#but i just dream of good things. very good things.

[rizsu]

food for thought, except it’s unwanted jujutsu kaisen : fem-reader.

have you ever wondered about a scenario so much that you must ask? well that’s exactly the last thing they’d wish to answer.

+ love ‘su: gojo, geto, itadori + ‘live, laugh, love’ hater final boss ( sukuna )

gojo satoru ﾉ refuses to answer.

“do you ever think about how it’d be if we never met?”

“ha— no. don’t even go there.”

satoru stops you there. he doesn’t wish to hear another word from you— especially if it extends your former question. he thinks about it— daily, in fact. it's a scenario that crosses his mind whenever he finds himself drunk on the temporary love he receives from you.

you’ve sung the lyric ‘i’ll love you until there’s no more left’ almost every week for him, silently begging that he gets the concept of genuine love through his head.

“why not? imagine if my friends didn’t make that bet where i either hit on you or pay for the night.” you reminisced, remembering the very night you lost the last touch of shame.

he hums, drumming his fingers on your thigh.

“bet or not, we’d still be fated to meet. next question!”

“anddd what makes you so confident?” you threw another question at him. this time, it's lighthearted.

“mind you, i’m the second coming of an angel. i predetermined this since three years ago.”

glances were exchanged, an expression of a grinning fool met the expression of a glaring responsible person who’s the said fool’s other romantic half.

you should've been familiar with satoru’s ways. it’s your fault for expecting a deep-dive conversation with satoru. not quite his cup of tea!

geto suguru ﾉ expects it and tries to escape.

suguru's home was no new, unexplored area to you. you knew his home's blueprint like the back of your hand. if needed, you'd walk through his home blindfolded and still end up in the room you want to be in.

this isn't a good thing to suguru. there are days where the feeling of confusion as to who he is piles up on him, leading him to isolate himself.. until he forgets there's a spare key of his isolation cube in your hold so now the plan goes awry.

that is exactly what’s happening. after he sent the text ‘k bye’ and silenced his notifications, he felt an impending doom. the reason was unknown by then but he should've guessed it was you.

you marched into his home, readying yourself with suguru-loneliness-begone techniques and, of course, the question that's been wandering your mind since you woke up from a dream.

“babe, what if—”

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, too exhausted to put a hand over your mouth.

“what if we were the last persons on earth? would you recreate humanity with me or kill yourself?”

there it is: your special ‘what if’ questions that know no bounds when it comes to absurdity.

“when would that ever happen? please, stop this,” he groans, pleading with his eyes for you to stop.

“that's the thing— you never know! so, what option is it?”

“i'd kill myself a long time ago if possible.”

“so it's the second one?”

“i'm... not cut out to be a good father.”

“i hate an indecisive bitch, my goodness,” it's your turn to complain, a little let down at his grey answers.

suguru's equally offended. you're the one who jumped him with such a question— who even thinks about that?!

“(y/n), baby, has it ever crossed your mind that your thinking skills aren't quite normal?”

“are you calling me stupid?!”

itadori yuuji ﾉ just as stupid.

it's mango season— yuuji's most anticipated season of the year. mangoes are to yuuji what your lipbalm is to you. a necessity, a survival item, a lifesaver, an important part of his lore, something he worships.

peeling mangoes and slicing them to equal pieces has never brought him such satisfaction before. it immediately brightens his mood. this must be how his grandfather felt whenever he took a walk around the neighbourhood.

now you appear, yuuji's second most anticipated person. you to yuuji is what mangoes are to him. this causes yuuji's current happiness level to reach its peak today. such a great level of happiness can defeat any evil being with just being in its area.

“say, yuu,” you begin, stabbing one of the mangoe slices with a fork.

he nods, signalling that he's listening but still focused on his current activity. a true mulit-tasker.

“if one of your limbs happen to detach from your body, do you feel the pain or does the pain go with it?”

he stops, allowing the question to sink in. he's never been asked such a.. divine question before. what's the answer? does the pain go with the limb or does it stay?

“oh... i gotta ask nobara this, she'd know,” he suggests, placing the knife down. a question that'll haunt him if he doesn't act quick for the answer.

“yes, yes!!” you encourage his actions, mindlessly enjoying the mango slices. mangoes are truly a blessing.

sukuna ryomen ﾉ no. nice try, though! A+ for effort.

“ryo, have you ever wondered if—”

“no, i never.”

“you didn't even let—”

“i haven't learnt since two-thousand years ago.”

“you old fuck, let me finish—”

“it's truly been a while since i've wondered.”

“DAMN, BITCH!”

you threw the remote at him, ultimately fed up with him cutting you off before the peak of the sentence. it could've been the question of the year and he'd still dodge it.

sukuna invited himself over since he ran out of entertainment options and you're always there for him. unfortunately, you do not find him as entertainin. he's annoying, arrogant, and attractive so it cancels out the negatives about him.

of course, sukuna caught the remote. his athletic capabilities are its prime despite him being dormant for centuries. it'd be a white lie to say he's not interested in your question, however it is way more benefitting to push your buttons.

he throws the remote back onto your bed, drying his hands with your hand-towel before making his merry way to you.

“your bed's small.”

“well no shit. it's for ME.”

“you mad? you look mad.” his hand holds your chin, turning your head side-to-side to observe your expression.

you rolled your eyes, “i don't get mad that easily.”

“is this how people felt when i told them an obvious lie? i should repent.”

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V

Something is Brewing

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20)

Warnings: explicit pregnancy smut, pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst [for the plot], pregnancy [this chapter is entirely about pregnancy if you haven't caught my drift, just giving you guys a proper warning], age gap, mood swings, cravings, nausea, vomiting, reader is very clumsy, intimate/invasive medical treatment, rut cycle, sexual tension, pregnant sex, p in v, titty fucking, cum eating (m and f), oral sex (m and f), masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda, not really), lactation kink

Word Count: 17.5k (this takes the cake, i apologize)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient with me as usual. I had planned to post this chapter earlier, but with the help of @zestys-stuff, we made a last minute change to the chapter. This will definitely cause some changes in the next chapter, so I’m going to work on that right away. I won’t lie, I’m really nervous to publish this one. It's been a while and I’ve ventured into some new territory where I’ve introduced a couple of new themes and -drumroll- a new character. There are parts of this chapter that can possibly cause discomfort (technically, all of this could), so I urge you guys to proceed with caution and click off if you do feel uncomfortable in any way. Aside from that, it’s good to be back (again, lol) and I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A timeline of your pregnancy with Ralak’s child, shown through a series of flashbacks of your most prominent milestones—some of which foreshadow something bigger to come…

<- Previous -> Next

Pregnancy is tough. 

A beautiful blessing, but tough nonetheless. With its own set of hardships, uniquely tailored to your own being. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. A sore back, chest, ankles…the list is seemingly endless. The shift in moods, the fatigue. Adjusting to an entire new being growing inside you—one that sucks the nutrients straight from your bones and blood—has your body overcompensating.  

At first it was a dream. 

No life-changing symptoms. It was smooth sailing for the first few weeks. Life went on as usual. If anything, others were more reactive to your pregnancy than you were. Your skimwing became aggressive towards Ralak, snapping at him and whipping her tail, treating him as a threat rather than a companion. He was more than understanding, as it’s common for the protective instinct to kick in when the tsurak senses their rider is with child.  

More importantly, it was an urge that Ralak shared with the beast.

—

You watch as your tendrils intertwine with your skimwing, and how they come together with a rough tug. You let out a rugged breath and the beast beneath you starts to writhe. Ralak instinctively grasps at the harness to steady you and— 

Slash. 

Your trsuak whips her spiked tail at your mate, who blocks it with his strake.

“Shit.” You gasp, tugging at the leather strap and patting her neck to subdue her. “I thought I was in control. Are you alright?”

Ralak nods, his hair now soaked and plastered to his chest. He simply chuckles, respectfully and cautiously approaching the beast with an open hand. Despite this, your tsurak continues to thrash, repeatedly snapping her snout open and shut. Ralak clicks melodically a few times, and her pupils blow and constrict as she calms down. He strokes her snout with one hand, and lays his other on your thigh, gripping it lightly.

“She senses that you are with child.” 

“She does?”

“Yes. That is why she protects you. I understand the feeling.” His accent is thick on his tongue. 

——

Then the nausea came. It was… unbearable. Insufferable. It was almost frightful, actually. Not being able to stomach anything really brought down a sense of dread upon your shoulders. Most days, you found yourself worried about the budding life inside you more than yourself. 

Was he getting enough? Would he develop properly if you went another day without eating? 

Ralak was more worried about you, of course. Going to great lengths to find something you could stomach. Spoon feeding you as you laid down all day from the gut churning nausea. Washing the sick out of your hair when you missed the bucket at your bedside. Detangling and braiding it for you to keep it clean and out of your face. Releasing his pheromones—your only relief—just to put you to sleep at night. 

—

t.w. nausea, vomiting.

In the crisp night, a wave of nausea washes over you, waking you from your sleep. Typically, this is the only time you have a break from the nausea—your slumber. That, and the first ten minutes after throwing up.

You quickly hurl over, grabbing and heaving into your bedside bucket, something that's rightfully earned its spot at your side. Ralak jolts awake, sitting up behind you to gather your hair into his fist, rubbing your back as you retch. 

“Alrigght.” He hums lengthily. “Get it up.”

Finally, you stop. You gasp and pant for air, sitting up only to collapse back into him. “I h-hate this–haah.”

“I do, too.” He grits, reaching over you for the rag at your bedside, and wiping your mouth.

He hates seeing you so sick. He’s tried it all, and though he’s found a few foods that you can stomach, nothing seems stops the nausea. Well, that’s not entirely true.

Ralak relaxes his body, focusing on opening his scent glands to release his his pheromones. They slowly become stronger, calming you down and dulling the waves of nausea. He pulls you close to his warm body, reaching behind him for his kuru. 

“Tsaheylu.” He whispers yearningly, making the bond slowly. He sets a steady breathing pattern, slipping his hand over your tiny bump to caress it. The sickening feeling eases up enough for you to drift back to sleep, Ralak along with you.

——

Thankfully, Eywa lifted you of your säspxin [sickness] when you were about to come upon your third month of pregnancy. Cravings increased ten-fold almost instantly. On the occasion where you couldn’t keep it down—when the desperation was too much—you’d volunteer Ralak to eat it for you so that you could satisfy the craving vicariously through him.

—

“Eywa, that’s so good. One more bite.”

“Tanhí. Enough now.” He grumbles, feeling overly stuffed and almost queasy. 

You glance down at the purple hue of your connected kurus.

“Please...” Your eyes burn as they threaten to well with tears, and your bottom lip quivers, “…last one, promise.”

Ralak sighs, shoveling in another bite of boiled squid, chewing it slowly so you can savor the taste. You keep your eyes closed as he eats, tongue swirling in your mouth to swish your pooling saliva in your cheeks. And when he swallows, you swallow too, gulping down your spit. 

“Thank you.” You say shyly as you open your eyes, feeling bad for making him overeat now that you can really feel his fullness. 

It is my pleasure. Never feel bad. His accented voice tickles your brain. A smile spreads across your face, just as one does on his. 

——

And when you could keep it down, they were delightful when satiated. Keyword being satiated. It posed an issue when they were what Ralak called, ‘forest food’, or on a more rare occasion—‘sky people food’. Those were the insatiable ones. The ones he couldn’t just whip up for you. The times he'd come to you with his ears laid flat to his skull, admitting his defeat. Those were the moments where you felt something stronger than just disappointment. 

It left you gutted. 

—

You can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. They’re hot and leave a sticky film on your skin, clumping your eyelashes together. It’s stupid. They’re stupid. Stupid tears, from a stupid cause. All because you want your grandmother’s stupid soup. Another thing the blessing of pregnancy has bestowed on you—big, intense feelings. 

As you soak in your bath, Ralak cooks dinner and you just know that whatever is in the pot is something that will make your stomach churn. You bury your face in the palms of your hands, trying to keep your snotty sobs to a minimum. It’s ridiculous, sobbing over something like this. It’s shameful, even. How can you be so ungrateful when this man goes to such lengths to care for you?

“Tanhì!” You hear his rough voice echo from the pod. 

You quickly wipe your face clean, and scramble for your loincloth and top, slipping them back onto your body. Finally, you fix your hair and force a smile to your face. As you get up to the marui, you’re met with the sight of Ralak stirring the soup pot over the firepit. Then the smell hits you. Typically the first thing to set off your nausea to begin with. It smells like—

Grandmother’s soup.

You stare at your mate wide eyed, taking a deep breath to savour it in your lungs. Outside of Ralak’s scent, nothing has smelled this good in months. And you swear you can already taste it on your tongue, the savoury flavour with the sweet aftertaste. 

“I asked your mother. Hope that is okay.” Ralak speaks casually as he serves you a bowl.

As you let out a harsh breath, your eyes burn as the tears come back with a vengeance. You sniffle once, twice—thrice, whimpering quietly as they roll down your cheeks. Ralak looks up at you, concern and honestly a smidge of confusion fixed to his face. Putting the bowl down, he stands and comes over to you, enveloping you in his arms. 

“I do not like to see you cry.” He hums, kissing the crown of your head. “Is it the smell? I will make you something different.” 

“N-No, no. It’s… it smells great. I’m sorry. I—I” You sputter, burying your face into his chest. 

“Then what is it, tìyawn [love]? What do you need?” Ralak cups your face and gently tilts your head upwards so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me and it is yours.” 

“Thank you.” You croak, feeling your bottom lip curl over and kiss your chin. Now his facial expression is just pure confusion. He tuts in a comforting manner, pulling you back in close to his chest as he waits for you to settle, rocking side to side. 

“Alright, my little one. Shh–shh.”

——

Soon after, that soup pot made quite an appearance. It became your favourite dish, your favourite craving. Ralak made it just like grandmother, for the most part. There were a few omaticayan herbs missing, but outside of that it tasted like…home. At that point, you felt like you had this pregnancy thing down pat and could return to a semi-normal life. 

Everything was relatively the same, except a few obvious things—your growing bump and lack of heats. That was also a blessing, not having to go through a torturous heat every month. Though, you couldn’t say that for Ralak. 

As you neared the end of your third month of pregnancy, his pheromones grew stronger, wafting by you at random times of the day. At first you thought he was just doing it for you. Or, perhaps it was your heightened sense of smell. 

But the day came when his scent was so potent, it was as if it had stained your lips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t smell the scent of your mate under your nose. That was the night you realised it was out of his control. That it was his rut coming. That was the night you confronted him at the bonfire. 

The night he looked at you like you were something to eat. 

— 

Right…there.

You catch the flicker of his eyes just before he lowers his head, shifting to that deep shade of blue. He keeps stealing a glance or two. Maybe even three, or more. It’s hard to keep count when he’s looking at you like this.

is piercing eyes, sultry and alluring, tempting you to crawl through these roaring flames just to get to him quicker. His demeanour. His stance and posture. His domineering leer. Whatever he—or his body—is doing, is working. 

He sits on the boulder, elbow perched on one thick thigh and a hand propped on the other. His hair covers his chestpiece, curled ends barely brushing against his defined ribcage. His bioluminescent freckles dance under the moonlight, his turquoise skin almost golden from the cast of the fire. It’s all so intimidating. He’s exuding dominance, practically looming over you despite him being seated. But there’s something about his aura, something darker.

“I can feel it, you know.” You speak casually, uncrossing your legs.

Ralak’s eyes snap up, boring into yours. He cocks a brow, keeping his eyes locked on you as you stand and walk towards him.

“Your rut. It’s close, isn’t it?”

This would be your first, real rut with him. Without the influence of your own heat. Ralak huffs a sigh, his eyes falling to the small bump that’s in his direct line of sight. Ralak watches as it seemingly grows bigger the closer you get. 

“You are showing.” His hands gently rest on your lower abdomen. Holding his shoulders, you slowly straddle him. 

“Answer me.” You whisper as you cup his face, tilting it upwards to make him look at you. “I want to be with you… and before you say it—” Ralak grits his teeth as he turns his head away, out of your hands.

“No.” 

“Ralak. I am your mate.” You retaliate through tight lips. You knew this would pose an issue. 

“Y/n.” He growls, turning his head to look you in the eyes. “You know my rut. Must I remind you that you are with child? It is final.” 

“I do know, and that’s why I won’t let you go through that alone, ever again.” Though your voice is stern, he can hear the tenderness in it. That this comes from a place of concern and love.

“I will not be in control.” Ralak admits as he shakes his head firmly, flicking his gaze back down to your belly. 

“Look…I made a plan.” You basically confess that you’ve been conjuring up ideas on how to endure this together all day. Although his eyes and hands remain fixed on your tummy, Ralaks ears perk up. He’s listening. 

“How do you feel about…being tied up?” 

Now you’ve got his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours. The idea of being tied up isn’t entirely foreign to him. It’s something that his people use as a punishment for those who do wrong. He’s not opposed to it. Having a rut so intense is probably something to be punished for, anyways. 

“Hands behind your back…bound to the marui stilt. I will be the one in control. I will take care of you.”

You take his hands from your stomach and tuck them behind his back, your face now millimeters from his. Ralak fights the urge to kiss you. To free his hands from his back to grab your hips and shove your further down onto his growing bulge.

“...feed you…water you…bathe you.” Your voice falters as you swallow your spit. “...fuck you.” 

“...that so?” He whispers against your lips, heart thudding wildly behind his ribcage. 

You look in his eyes, and see that they tremble with constraint. He can’t hide it, the look on his face gives it away. He’s really struggling to think straight. To keep his answer as a firm no. And it doesn’t help that he’s on the cusp of his rut. He yearns to accept. Every fibre of his being wants this–wants you. You see it in his eyes, as they flicker like the flame behind you.

He just needs a little push. 

“We’ll take it slow…gently.” You roll your hips into him and feel his cock straining against his tewng. You lean in close, lips brushing against his as you speak into his mouth. “And, if anything happens… we’ll stop. No knotting.” 

His ears twitch. He’s considering it. Really, actually considering this. But how could he? How could he expect this of you in your state? He squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and conflicted. And aroused. So fucking aroused that when he feels your lips drag against his cheek, your tongue tasting the lobe of his ear…your breathy whisper, “Pänutìng [Promise].”, he lets out a heated, shaky breath of defeat. Of surrender. 

That seals the deal.

—

Not now. Not yet. Ralak thinks to himself, fighting his urges.

The urge to mate—to pin you down and drive himself inside you. He must remain in control. For you. For your unborn. He sits on the floor, slumped against the stilt of the marui, bowed shoulders and a heavy, hung head. His skin, flushed, and eyes swollen—glowing a vibrant mauve. His hair haphazardly sticks to his sweltering skin as his hands lethargically twiddle with the braided twine behind his back. 

Groggy, you strain to open your eyes and quickly scan your surroundings. Ralaks pheromones cloud the room, engulfing you with their overpowering scent. As you sit up, the bed creaks and Ralak lifts his head, allowing it to flump limply back into the stilt. Extra lidded eyes and tensed brows, he breathes through his mouth. He wills himself to speak, but he’s heavy and sluggish as if he were three bottles deep.

“Ralak.” Your voice is wary and full of concern. Your eyes continue to trail down his body, landing on the undeniable, taut bulge in his loincloth. His cock strains against the fabric, precum completely soaking it through. “How long have you been like this?” 

“Few hours.” He croaks out a dry throat. 

“And you didn’t wake me?” You hastily make your way behind him, slipping to your knees to take the twine from him. 

Fuck. There it is. Your scent...driving him over the edge. Wafting past his nose and making him woozy in the head. 

“Tie me.” He demands. For a moment, you’re frozen in place by his tone, unable to move your hands and fingers. “Quickly.” 

The edginess in his voice startles you, causing you to fumble with the twine. You take a breath and begin tying the knot as he taught you, weaving the twine with itself, tugging at the ends to close it.

“Tighter.” He snaps at you, making your ears lay flat. You pull the ends even tauter, witnessing the twine pinch the thin skin on his wrists. 

“Shit—sorry. Didthat hurt?” You go to loosen the knot, but he pulls at the restraints, making it even tighter.  

“Leave it.” He grumbles, tugging yet again, ensuring it’s unyielding.

Because the closer you get, the harder he finds it to resist. He needs to know that he can’t get out—that he can’t hurt you—before he loses it completely. And with that delicious scent seeping from your neck, he feels himself slipping under. 

“Are you sure? I can tie you after you drink some water and have a—” 

“No...haah—now.” He growls, dropping his head causing the rest of his hair to flow forward and cover his face. “…need you now.” 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up and flushing them over. You can even feel your heart pumping it harder–faster. It’s hot in here, but even hotter now that you feel yourself heating up too. It’s his rut, influencing you like some sort of drug. You can barely control your breathing, much less think straight. But you told him that you’d be the one in control, the one to care for him. 

“Mawey, ma’ muntxatan [Calm, my husband].” You whisper close to his ear, giving the knot a final tug. “What kind of mate would I be if I did not care for you first? Hm?”  

You shuffle to your feet, and walk away, newly widened hips swaying side to side with temptation. He’s taking in the show through the cracks of space between his clumped together strands of hair, unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. Knowing this, you bend over, lifting your tail to expose your clothed mound to him. You swear you can hear a hiss seep from his lips, and that brings a smile to yours. 

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do. 

You scoop up some water into the cup, and bring it over to him. Using two fingers to his chin, you tilt his head back, revealing the famine in his inebriated eyes. They’re glossy with need and desperation, begging you to take his ache away. 

“Alright, alright.” You coo softly, sinking back to your knees. “I’m going to make it go away. Now, drink for me.” You bring the cup to his lips, tilting it carefully as he gulps it down thirstily. A few drops dribble down his chin and onto his already glistening chest, rolling down his unflexed stomach. 

Tossing the empty cup to the side, you bend forward and lick the beads of water up his stomach, to his throat, to his lips. His arms jerk reflexively, wanting to cup your face as your lips lock with his.

Throwing a leg over his lap, you straddle him, pressing against the bulge in his sticky tewng. You cup his face instead, deepening the kiss to have a taste of the potent desperation on his tongue.

When you pull away, your noses brush against one another and you feel woozy in the head. His rut is beginning to affect you now. Which isn’t all a bad thing if you want to be able to keep up with him for the next couple days.  

Your hand smoothes over his jawbone to the nape of his neck, where you gently grip the base of his kuru. His ears immediately lay flat to his head, reddening at just the tips. Running your hand along its length, you bring the end of his kuru in front of him. 

“Going to make the bond.” You warn him breathily, bringing forth your queue as well. 

At this point, Ralak is huffing for air and sweating profusely. It looks as if he’s nearing his peak already. This only reaffirms that you’re making the right decision by making tsaheylu—you need the direct influence of his tìsom [heat]. 

When the tendrils intertwine, you come together with a sharp tug and gasp. Instantaneously, you sink into a hazy state, heating up from within. Your breath syncs with his, and suddenly you’re panting too. 

“Ralak.” You moan softly, grinding into him for a bit of friction.

You can’t stop your hips from snapping, and your loincloth is almost completely soaked. He throws his head back into the wooden stilt, looking at you through lidded eyes as he lets loose subtle groans. He looks more than hungry. He looks starved. 

With trembling hands, you search for the knot of his loincloth at the base of his tail. After a bit of scuffling, you untether it and shimmy his tewng down his hips and off of him. Up springs his aching cock, veiny and swollen. It’s so obviously neglected, glossy and sticky with his slick, so uncomfortably hard that it’s already pulsing as it stands firmly pressed against your clothed cunt. 

“Fuck. It’s… even bigger.” You’re taken aback, unsure of how exactly you managed to take this inside you last time he was in rut. Then you notice the red tinge of colour on his cockhead, especially where his ridges stand erect. “D-Does that hurt, karyu?” Bump in the way, you shift your hips back to reveal what exactly you’re talking about. “Need your numeyu to take away the pain?” 

The giant remains silent, but his cock jumps in response, oozing out another large bead of precum. Using your pointer finger, you trace the length of his cock, swollen balls to his pointed tip, collecting that fresh bead of slick on the pad of your digit. He watches intently as you pop your finger into your mouth and suckle, swallowing his semi-sweet essence. His brows knit tightly together. 

You know this is nothing short of torture to him. And though you have every intention to take the ache away… when would you get another opportunity like this? Where this giant is tied down and unable to resist the pleasure you bring him. Where you’re completely… in control. Fuck, you’ve never felt like this before. It's exhilarating. It’s a feeling of power. Of dominance.

A smirk pulls at your lips.   

You begin to pull yourself to your knees, brushing your swollen breasts against his lips. His tongue darts out, eager for a taste. Looking down, you cup one breast with your hand, and guide your stiff nipple into his mouth. His lips pucker over it, closing once they make contact for a vacuum seal.

Your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tickle the sensitive tip of your nipple. His teeth graze against them as he tries to do this handsfree, and you let out a low hiss. Soon his movements grow erratic, being bound to the marui stilt is starting to frustrate him. 

“Ah-ah. What do you need, karyu? Just tell me.” Your voice is feigned with innocence. He breathes heavy against your chest, keeping quiet as his focus is purely on getting his fill. “You won’t get anything from them.” You tsk, tugging away little by little, until eventually you pop off his mouth. 

You continue to rise to your feet, dragging his lips along your swelling tummy, until he’s eye level to the band of your tewng. You can feel his eyes pierce into you, his stare is anything but discreet. It’s intimidating. Your hand flies to the back of your loincloth, fiddling with the knot to untie it. 

“Is it this?”

The cloth drops to your ankles, exposing your flushed cunt to him. It’s pink and hot to the touch, undeniably aroused. Your scent grows stronger with each passing second, filling his lungs. It’s driving him insane—being able to see and smell, but not touch. His rut is only making him more irritable. He just needs to fuck into something and spill himself inside. 

His eyes glisten over an even brighter shade of purple, locking onto their meal. He wets his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue as you take a step closer. You cup his jawbone, tilting it upwards to look down at him. The sight is… intoxicating. His lidded eyes, blown pupils that are threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tensed brow bones and damped, slightly parted lips—not a drop of composure left in his features. 

That new feeling rushes through you again, making you take two more steps forward. Your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his nose, officially branding it with your scent. He leans into you, closing his eyes and straining his neck to indulge himself. 

Your thumb smoothes over his jaw before your hand slips to the back of his head. You fist his hair and yank his head back, sending his eyes flying open. With your free hand, you spread your pussy lips, exposing your swollen clit. It’s sticky and in need of attention, throbbing occasionally as you tug your hood back. 

“Now, suck.” You demand breathily, slowly guiding him by the head to bring his lips to your clit.

You clench around nothing when you feel his heated, slippery lips pucker over the stiffened nub, sucking gently. Sharp eyes bore into yours before they roll back, leaving nothing but the whites exposed. Lids finally fluttering closed, he sucks a little harder, tips of his canines accidentally nipping your supple skin.  

“Ss—fuck.” You hiss, hips snapping back with force, popping off his mouth with a sharp sting. Frantic fingers rub away the tingling sensation as you grit your teeth. You shuffle your feet to ground yourself as you tighten your grip on his hair and hold his head still. 

“I know you’re in rut, but be good to your muntxate [wife].” You warn through your teeth before shoving his face back into your cunt.

This time he feasts with greed, groaning like a starved man. Eating, like a starved man. He’s slurping and sucking, lapping up your slick as it coats his tongue and lips, enjoying every second of your reign.

“Oh—oh shit. Fuck. Right there—” You moan breathlessly, free hand flying to his head to fist his hair, using it as leverage to keep him just where he is.

Before you know it your hips are moving on their own, humping at his face as you hold him tightly with both hands. With each thrust you shove him further back into the stilt, until the back of your hand is repeatedly hitting its surface. 

Until you’re hunched over him, looking him deep in the eyes as you grind into whatever part of him your clit is rubbing against. He expertly holds his breath as he allows you full control to fuck his face as if you were the one in heat.

Because with each roll of your hips he feels it too.

He feels the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you when his tongue hits your clit in that special spot. When the tips of his canines graze your swollen folds. The feeling is all consuming and he’s whining into your cunt from the over—and under—stimulation. His cock shifts to a shade of purple, jumping each time you thrust into his mouth. 

‘Sorry, Ralak. ‘m sorry.’ You think to him through tsaheylu, feeling the burn in your own lungs now. 

“Haa—ah, fuck. Thrust. Fuck. Thrust. F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum—in your—ngh!” Your voice quavers as you come suddenly undone in his mouth, holding him firm and still as you rock your body into him. 

His eyes slam shut and his brows knit tightly together as he grunts repeatedly into your cunt. He tugs harshly at his restraints and his heels dig into the woven floor. Yet still, you hold onto him even tighter until your pussy stops fluttering. 

With a loud, shaky gasp, you yank him away, letting go of his hair to grab the marui stilt to stop your trembling legs from giving out beneath you. Ralak wheezes loudly, shoulders heaving harshly as he frantically pants for air. His face is bright pink, flushed and glazed in a layer of sweat. He opens his eyes but they’re so heavy that you can barely see the colour in them. 

“Rutxe [please].” Ralak begs through a desperate groan, flicking his stare downwards. And when you look, you’re met with the sight of his still-throbbing cock, covered in his sticky, thick cum. Shiney beads still ooze out and dribble down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. 

His first word was a plea of help. 

Your heart aches in your chest. How could you let yourself go so far with your little bit of power? To be so selfish. And here he was, in so much discomfort and yet you put your needs first. Leaving him so neglected to the point his body makes the release for him. Is this how he felt after he unleashed six pent up years on you in a couple days? 

Pent up years of suffering. 

“Shh. You’re okay, my love. You’re okay.” You whisper as you slowly squat down. “I got you. I’m going to make it…” you hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto his cock, aligning his tip with your sopping entrance, “…all better now.” 

You wince when his cock slowly penetrates you, mewling a little higher with every inch you manage to take. The stretch is almost unbearable. This is the first rut you’ve spent with him without being in heat. 

No foggy haze to dull the ache. 

No emptiness to be filled. 

And it doesn’t help that your womb is already so full. 

Your mewl quickly turns into a whimper when your bodies become flush to one another. Ralaks head slumps back into the marui stilt and he heaves a loud, lengthy moan of relief from being buried deep inside your warm cunt. You feel so good around him, making his cock heat up and twitch inside of you. 

Snaking your arms around his neck, you hold onto him as you frantically try to adjust to his size. It’s dawning on you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and that you’ve seriously underestimated his rut. A sense of uncertainty begins to tighten your stomach but it quickly dissipates when you hear Ralak’s second plea. 

“Rutxe, ma’ tanhì..” Ralak mutters with a pained, gravelly voice. 

Without another word, you move your hips up and down, dragging his length along your gummy, slick walls. Your movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, you’re not used to doing most of the work much less all of it. With his hands tied behind his back, you can already feel the burn in your thighs and the throb in the tips of your toes. 

Regardless, you keep moving your hips. 

Bouncing up and down on his cock, pressing your forehead into his in a poor attempt to steady your position. That little sting slowly morphs into something of pleasure the more your hips meet his with a slap. And soon all you can hear is smack, after smack, after smack. The noises that split his lips tell you all you need to know. He’s feeling good and that’s all that matters. 

But exhaustion hits you quickly—unexpectedly. His cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and the more tired your legs get, the deeper it drills inside you, pressing harshly into your cervix. Your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath, leaving you no choice but to lazily rock back and forth on his cock. 

Ralak lets out a grunt and bucks his hips. 

“Haah!” You yelp.

Ralaks ears lay flat, lips pursed tightly into a thin line. He can’t hold back his frustration any longer. He’s growing impatient. If he didn’t get his real release soon he may really lose it. He’s grunting through his nose and tugging at his restraints, bruising his wrists. You feel him shift his hips up and shove his cock as far as he can inside you. 

“Ngh! I-It won’t go any deeper!” Your voice strains as you try to lift yourself up. But he just keeps pushing until his feet are grounded. And then his hips drop, pulling his cock half way out of you. 

Thrust.

Ralak slams his cock back inside you, drilling deeper than he was before. Your mouth falls open as all the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. As you suck in a gasp of air he thrusts inside you again. And again. And again. Until he’s rutting into you in a feverish frenzy, chasing his climax as if it were prey. His thrusts turn relentless, leaving you breathless with each buck of his hips. 

“Fuck—fuck—fu—” Your voice bounces with his thrusts. 

You look down, met with eyes that are empty yet heavy with appetite. He’s in the thick of it and he’s no longer all there. He’s purely instinct now and the only thing holding him back from pinning you down and having his way with you is the twine wrapped around his wrists. 

You can’t lie and say that you aren’t enjoying the look on his face and the break from the burn in your thighs. Stars sprinkle your vision as you’re overwhelmed with the immense pleasure he’s slamming into you. He’s fucking you into submission and you’re mind is borderline blank. His groans are primal and guttural, and they grow louder with each hysteric thrust. 

“Want to knot.” He huffs suddenly—desperately. You can feel his thick knot poke and prod at your entrance, his thrusts now sloppy and erratic. 

“Fuck, I—” You know you shouldn’t, no matter how hazy his rut is making you feel. “W-We can’t. I’m still ea—rly.” But he’s too busy watching himself fuck you in a daze, drenched with sweat. “Ralak…” You grab his face, tilting his chin upwards so he looks you in the face. His gaze is hollow yet his features are tense. “…are y–ou hear–ing me, la–k?”

“Need to breed.” He growls as he fights against his restraints. He doesn’t ease up on his tussle with the twine, sweating and panting as he desperately tries to force his knot inside you. 

“Shit.” You mutter, coming to the quick realisation that he can’t stop himself. “Wait, wait, wait—” 

Your hands fall from his face to his stomach, pushing down in a panicky attempt to lift yourself off him. But his rut is making you sluggish and weak, so you make the quick decision to sever the bond with a rough yank. 

Snap. 

“Oh, fuck.” You curse under your breath. 

The twine breaks, and his arms fly forward, hands making impact with your hips, fingernails digging into the thin skin. His grip is unyielding as he holds you down firmly on his cock. You feel him throb inside you as he attempts to plug you full with his knot. 

“Lak! Ralak, h-hold on!” As much as you actually want to, you can barely take what’s inside you as it is.

“Submit.” He rasps, top lip curled tight to his teeth, baring his canines. 

“I—I’m pregnant.” You whisper quickly, voice hoarse and strained. 

Immediately, his movements cease and his eyes flick down to your tiny bump, then widen when he finally realises. In one swift, sudden move, he lifts you off him and uses your swollen pussy lips to hug his cock and finish himself off. He rocks you back and forth like a rag doll at the mercy of undying grip, growling and grunting. 

His head drops forward when he outright howls. You look down and witness his mushroomy head pulsating feverishly, spurting out his load in thick ropes, all over his stomach and chest. All whilst his engorged, throbbing knot pulses against your slit as he cums, earning some well deserved comfort and warmth.

Ralak sputters as he tries to catch his breath, hands still glued to your hips. The fog still clouds his mind but it’s less blinding now. He’s just about capable of acknowledging what just happened. To acknowledge that this was risky, and could’ve ended badly. That, if you hadn’t said something to him, he would have knotted you without mercy.

An uncomfortable silence passes between you, where you’re both breathing heavily and staring at one another. You both share the same thought—the same realisation. His rut is too aggressive for you to handle right now. 

“I must go.” Ralak looks away as he breaks the silence, wanting to take advantage of his release before the pressure builds yet again. He’s clear headed enough to leave without turning back and pouncing on you. 

“No, don’t… we can try again.” You say softly, hand cupping his jawbone, turning him to face you. You feel terrible that he may have to spend this rut alone, that you couldn’t fulfil your promise—your duty as his mate. 

“I almost knotted you, y/n.” His eyes gloss over with guilt, his hands finally peeling away your bruised hips. 

“But… you didn’t. You stopped yourself—” 

“And if I do not leave now… I will.” Ralak growls inches away from your face.

You’re a little taken aback by his bluntness, but you know it’s the truth. And it’s final. No matter what you say. No matter how it makes the flesh between your legs throb a little more. You nod, keeping yourself quiet. 

“I will see you in a couple days. I love you both.” Your lips meet briefly before he carries you to bed and readies himself to leave. You watch in silence, murmuring an “I love you, too” under your breath when he exits the marui.  

—

As time passed you grew more angsty, unable to keep in one spot or focus on a single task. All that ran on your mind was Ralak and how he was probably suffering all alone. All because you failed to do your duty as his mate. The guilt was almost sickening, having you dry heaving into your bedside bucket a few times for the rest of the day. 

Until later that night. 

You rub in the thick, oily concoction on your belly, getting ready for bed. The sound of the marui door flapping open startles you, making you jump in your skin and clutch your stomach. You’re not expecting Ralaks return so soon. 

A silhouette stands tall at the door, his bioluminescent star pattern unmistakable. 

“Ralak? Oh, Ralak. Eywa. You’re back. I should have made dinner. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. You must be so hungry. You—” You speak urgently, eyes flicking down to his tewng, which is seemingly damp, “—was it too much? …are you alright? Let me help you, lak.”

“Tanhì.” Ralaks cuts you short, voice trembling slightly, yet full of relief. “It is done.” 

“…what?” The question is breathy. 

“My rut.” Ralak says as he makes his way towards you, scooping up a glob of your special concoction. He sits next to you, and begins massaging it into your back. “You have fixed me.” 

You come to the realization that he's talking about his rut finishing earlier than usual—like that of an average na'vi.

“You were never broken, my love.” You moan softly, closing your eyes to enjoy the massage.

Ralak then rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands down your back and around your abdomen—rubbing what's left on his hands onto your swelling belly. His touch prickles your skin, sending the tip of your tail swishing. 

“I live for you.” He mutters with a thick accent, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I will die for you.”

Your heart skips a beat when you hear his words, he must have really been suffering for the past six years. You feel your face heat up, and you try to fight the smile balling your cheeks. You opt to drop your head and hide your face instead, resting a hand on his thigh. 

“Well. We won’t have you doing that.” You giggle, rubbing his upper thigh as you turn your head to glance at him. “…the last part, that is.” 

But he just looks at you, face still as stone. He speaks sternly.

“I will.” He speaks sternly.

You swallow your spit, tempted to drop your head again as you take in the gravity of his two words. You nod, searching his eyes with yours as you close the space between you. You hover open mouthed against his lips. 

“Me too.”

——

Time waits for no one. 

At least that’s how it felt. You had ballooned overnight, round and a little heavier as you embarked on your sixth month of pregnancy. His kicks grew stronger and more uncomfortable. But it was Ralaks favourite thing to feel before bed.

You found yourself spending most of your days bouncing between your marui and your family’s marui—paying your family visits more often. They grew fond of the idea that there would be an addition to the family and it became a regular thing for you to seek refuge there when Ralak was roped in for his ‘duties’. Which seemed to increase in number the further along you progressed. 

Ralak had his daily duties—tending to the ilus, a few lessons, fishing... These were just the simpler tasks that you could say you knew for certain he did. But there were his ‘fkxaranga’ [stressful] duties’, as you liked to call them.

The ones where Tonowari would summon him with nothing else but a simple nudge or glance. The duties that were spontaneous. That stole precious hours of his time. Duties that left Ralak spent and on edge, reaching for his top shelf when he came home. Those were the ones you dreaded the most. 

The ones like last night. 

——

With a huff, Ralak chucks his gear onto the floor and roughly unclips his chest piece. His pointed tools are covered in some sort of thick, iridescent muck, shifting from green to orange as they rock side to side on the floor. It’s something you’ve been seeing recently with no idea as to what it is. 

Ralak grunts, bringing your attention to his lips, which are slightly downturned. The more you take in the sight before you the more it occurs to you how exhausted this man is. His eyes are hollow, ears droopy, tail dragging heavily behind him. His muscles are seized up despite the bow of his shoulders—he looks as if he could use a massage. 

“Manga [Hey, you].” You get up to meet him at the door, taking the chest piece out of his hands to hang up on the wooden stand. “Tonowari is working your tail off. Do I need to have a word with that man?” 

He only works up a grumble as you lead him over to the bed. “That bad? What is he making you do? Hunt akulas? Eywa.”  

Ralak sits down, face sinking into his hands before two fingers slip down to pinch the bridge of his nose. You climb up and settle behind him, huffing and puffing along the way. Your hands smooth over his back, thumbs pressing firmly into his muscles, kneading the flesh until you feel him loosen up. 

Though the question sounded rhetorical, he knew it wasn’t. He knows you’re awaiting a response, the silence is loud and clear. You always want to know more about his day, fine details and all. And he’s usually reluctant to speak of it, but insisting it’s nothing for you to worry your head over. But recently, your inquisitivity is… well founded. And he knows it.

“Not quite.” He mumbles wearily into his palm, ears laid flat to his skull–although it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter an akula or two whilst fulfilling the olo’eyktan’s orders. 

You open your mouth to question him further, but you can tell that he’s more than tired. And it didn’t help that you were constantly needing his help, especially now that you’re growing heavier.

Going down the stairs is a struggle considering you can no longer see your own feet or keep your balance. You had been waking him up almost twice a night to help you down the marui stairs just to pee. He’d always be happy to help, though. He understands that this is what comes with the changes that are happening to your body that’s giving life to his child. 

“Rest. Please.” You say softly, tugging at him to lie down in bed with you. 

To your surprise, he actually lays down, assuming his typical position before dozing off for the night—on his back with a hand on your belly. You expected him to resist a little, insisting something or another.

He really, really must be tired. Your heart fills with something heavy. Something that makes you almost feel sick. Your brows pinch as you look beside you to see his tensed face relax into something of tranquility. 

And a smile pulls at your lips when his eyes fall shut. 

Dinner’s over the firepit—his favourite stew with extra mushrooms. The sound of it bubbling becomes louder as it thickens. With a quick, final stir, you take it off the fire and cover it to let it sit. You hope that this will help lift his mood when he wakes. You look over to him as he lays stockstill with softened features, breathing tidally. 

Holding onto a supporting beam of the marui, you bring yourself to your feet and waddle your way over to him. You extend a hand to wake him for dinner but you hesitate. He needs this. And that’s when you make the decision to allow him however long it takes to rest. Even if it means that you speak to Tonowari yourself. 

Night falls and the temperature falls with it. The glowing firepit keeps the stew and marui warm for the time being as you prepare for bed. You draw the curtains and glance over to your mate, who still remains in a deep sleep, tucked cozily under the blanket you covered him with. You drape the shawl he wove you over your shoulders, and make your way to the door. 

A silent yawn splits your lips just before you lift away the flap. Your eyelids are heavy and the drowsiness is weighing on you tenfold. You have one last step of your nightly routine before you can crawl into bed next to your husband. And that's emptying the bladder that your son uses as a footrest. Plus, if you didn’t do it now, it would just be an additional trip in the middle of the night. 

As you make your way to the door, the need to go becomes urgent. Perhaps it was all the water you thirstily chugged whilst eating, or maybe it's just the fact that you're already on your way there. Either way, you can’t seem to get there quick enough. Your movements turn hasty the second you get to the top step, hands clutching on the only thing available—your bulging belly. You’re looking down despite the fact that you can’t even see your feet.

Leaning forward slightly, you try to shift your stomach to the side to see your next step. You step down and feel your bare foot make contact with the slippery wood. Your toes press into its surface to ground you as you take your next step. You wobble when you get to the last step, and sigh in relief when you feel the cold, wet sand spill between your toes. 

After wasting no time and doing what you came to do, you quickly make your way back to the marui. The tips of your ears and tails are just going numb from how cold it is and the night dew is beginning to form. You get to the bottom step, fixing your shawl so that it’s out the way. You make your way up the first, second and third step, but when you get to the fourth your shawl falls forward. 

And so do you. 

A blood curdling shriek rips from your throat when you feel your feet give out beneath you. Your hands splay out to grab onto whatever’s around you to break your fall but before you know it you're tumbling back down the stairs at a frightening rate. You keep on your side as best you can, landing into the sand with a muffled thump. 

“Fuck. Shit—oh, great mother—” You mutter as you hyperventilate, clutching your stomach as you wait for your son to kick—to show you some sign of life. Your eyes well with tears as you rub your bump vigorously. Your heart is slamming violenting against your rib cage, so hard you can hear it over the ringing in your ears. “Please, please, please.” 

…but nothing. 

“Y/n?!” You hear Ralaks worried voice boom behind you, then his hurried footsteps down the stairs. 

Maybe it’s his fathers voice, but your unborn son gives you one of the biggest kicks yet. You sob out a laugh, rubbing your stomach as relief flows through your body. You take a few deep breaths through your mouth to calm down, feeling another reassuring kick. 

“Y/n. Y/n.” Ralak chants your name, eyes rapidly darting side to side to assess you as he kneels beside you. Concern’s etched deeply into his features as he lifts your arms and legs, searching for injuries. 

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” You repeat urgently, but he continues to look, even taking off your shawl. His eyes are wide and he seems to be in some level of shock, especially after coming straight out of a deep sleep. “Ralak. Really. I’m fine. We’re okay.” 

Ralaks features soften at your two final words. His stare falls to your swollen belly, hands taking the place of yours as he waits. After a few seconds of stillness, his eyes snap up to yours—refilling with worry. He begins to shake his head, and you reassure him with a hand to his face. 

“Talk to him.” You whisper with trembling lungs. Ralak looks back down to your stomach.

“Maitan [My son].” Your mate says in a low, steady voice, ensuring not to allow even a hint of fright slip through. Just then, he feels a little nudge against the palm of his hand. Ralaks gaze snaps up to you and his expression relaxes, hands rubbing your belly gently. “How did this happen, tanhì?”

“I…needed to pee.” You say shamefully, avoiding eye contact. “…and I tripped going up the steps.” You glance up at him to see what you perceive to be a face of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m so stupid.” 

“No. Do not say that.” He interjects, tensing his jaw. “...you are heavy with child—why did you not wake me?” 

“You were so, so tired. You needed to rest, and I did not want to disturb you.” You turn to your side to get up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down your back. 

“Careful.” He clears his throat, stopping you from trying to get up on your own. He watches your contorted face relax, but the heart wrenching guilt just gets worse. “You should have. Wake me for anything.” He says sternly, snaking his arms underneath you to lift you up. “Everything.”

“You really don’t have to—” Ralak continues, scooping you in his arms and holding you close to his chest. “I can walk. I’m all right, Ralak.”

You try to reassure him, shuffling in his arms to get down. But he only muffles out a sigh, glancing down at you with downturned brows and droopy ears. He then walks away from the marui stairs, to the direction of the water. 

“Where are we going?” You ask quickly when you realise that you’re walking away from home. Ralak clicks for his tsurak, taking his time as he mounts it with you tucked to his chest. “Ralak.” 

“To tsahìk.” He states, making the bond with his beast.

“Ronal?” You sound almost panicked as the idea of everyone knowing you fell up the stairs clouds your mind. It’s almost mortifying to think about. “We don’t need to do that, it’s really late too, and—”

Commanding his beast to go, you both take off at full speed. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the tsahìk’s healing pod. Many healers gather at the door when they hear the sound of Ralak’s low pitched call. And they rush out to meet him as he carries you towards them in a hurried manner. They usher you in, hushed murmurs growing louder and clearer as they bring you to Ronal. 

You didn’t even notice the burning pain in your lower back until you were about half way here. 

The Tsahìk stands upon your entrance, her crystal blue eyes widening when she sees Ralak with you in his arms. You wince as he lays you down where the healers instruct him to. She strides over to a woven basket filled with an array of herbs and needle-like wooden sticks, and quickly props it on her hip—just out of the way of her own bump. She settles herself beside you, feeling your stomach as she channels Eywa. 

Ronal throws a look to Ralak, whose hands are on his hips as he waits patiently for the verdict. 

“She fell.” He says, only for Ronal to cock an eyebrow. “Stairs.” He finishes. Then both her eyebrows raise, and she reaches for a jar of a ground up, purplish herb. She pours half of it into a wooden bowl, and activates it with a few drops of water from the spirit tree. 

“Baby is strong. Very strong.” The Tsahìk announces, and both you and Ralak heave a loud sigh of relief. “But—” Ronal props your legs up on the makeshift table, spreading them slightly. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you look over to Ralak. “You are still at risk.”

Ralak moves closer to you, taking your hand in his to keep you calm. You both watch as Ronal rolls the fabric tightly into a small cylindrical shape. You swallow your spit when you realise exactly where that’s going. 

“This ensures he stays. It will also help with the pain.” She states, glancing at Ralak to see the glare he’s trying to hold back. She shakes her head slightly and hands you the precautionary apparatus. “Insert. Rest…and remove at sunrise.” Ronal continues, drawing back the curtain to give you some privacy. 

“Sunrise?” You whisper to yourself as you watch her step out.

Your eyes dart up to Ralak who is clearly concerned, staring down at you with worry in his eyes. Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and your nerves fray. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? He’s your mate. Your husband. 

You sit up a bit more and try to see over your stomach to get the task done with shaky hands. You fumble and struggle with the flimsy cloth, blindly doing your best. But each time you lean forward the pain in your back burns hotter.

Ralak’s supporting you with a hand on your upper back, patiently waiting for you, noticing your trembling fingers and little grunts. He uses his free hand to cup yours, stilling your hurried movements.

“Mawey [calm]. Breathe.” He hums, gently taking it from you and helping you lay down. 

You look him in the eyes as he inserts it carefully, wincing when the concoction stings a bit. Ralak gives your hand a light squeeze, speaking as if he had access to your thoughts. You nod, trying to smile through the burning sensation, but he picks up on your discomfort. 

“What is it? Is it your back?" His voice quavers with worry.

“No… just burns a little.” You say quietly. You watch his jaw flutter and his shoulders droop as he huffs out a sigh. “Not to worry. It’s going away now.” 

As he’s about to speak, the curtain is drawn to the side and Ronal comes in and stands at the arched entrance, hand on her hip. Ralak averts his attention to her, his eyes glancing down at her unborn moving in her belly. Although you were both six months pregnant, you were noticeably bigger than her. 

“A word.” Her serious tone of voice brings him out of deep thought, and her nudging head tells him that it’s something urgent. 

Ralak looks at you, not wanting to leave you alone but you smile and reassure him with a light nod. He clenches his jaw but you give him a gentle push towards Ronal. He squeezes your hand before letting go and leans in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. You watch as he leaves, laying back and taking in the ripples in the curtain as you strain to hear their hushed conversation. 

“Ronal. Oe irayo si ngaru. [Thank you]” Ralak begins, bowing before the shorter na’vi.

“I worry for your mate.” Ronal cuts to the chase, using her hand to guide him further away from the curtain. 

“For what reason?” He asks, keeping his head hung to hear what she has to say. They walk until they’re nearly at the entrance of the healing pod. 

“Your son is fast growing.” She speaks calmly but quickly.

Ralak is a little puzzled, although he doesn’t show it. Is that such a bad thing? He continues to look down at her with the same expression, listening intently to what the tsahìk speaks of.

“Her body will struggle. Birth will be hard. Very long and painful.” Now Ralak is having a hard time keeping his emotions concealed as they chisel themselves into his features. Yet he remains silent. “You must warn her about mun’i [the cut].”

“Pxasìk [no way/fuck that]” Ralak curses through a hiss in his native tongue as he stands at full height, figuratively and literally taken aback. How dare she call that upon his mate? Ronal returns a low hiss as Ralak moves away from her, staring down at her with a mixture of emotions. 

Concern. Surprise. Fear. 

Mun’i [the cut] is rare and risky. Only three have been performed since the birth of this clan, all done in desperation when hope was gone. The last one was performed by Ronal's mother herself. It is an extremely invasive procedure where the mother is cut and the infant is removed. It’s only done in dire situations, where the mother is incapable of giving birth to their young naturally, and risks dying in the process.

Ralak can’t help but feel a burning anger amongst the sea of emotions flooding him at once. How could she suggest such a thing to him? Something so dangerous and grave? All because you will give birth to ‘a different kind’. He’s more than confident that you’re capable of this, despite the murmurs circulating the clan. 

He has always been aware of Ronal's perception of you, and her opinion about the mating. It was no secret, though she never outwardly told Ralak as he is like a son to her. She often insisted that you two were not compatible in more ways than one, and always saw you as the forest girl who needed special training. But to know that Ronal doubts your capabilities to give life ignites a flame in his chest. 

One that he must quickly put out. 

“Ralak!” 

He hears you call out for him, prompting him to quell the flame and shoot Ronal a glare of displeasure. “She is stronger than you know.” Ralak speaks through his teeth before turning his heel to tend to you. 

Heart pounding, he makes his way through the curtain to be met with the joyous sight of you cradling your stomach with a smile plastered to your face. That only further calms the flicker of the flame in his chest, making a smile tug at his lips. He sees you glance up at him, pearly teeth glistening in the luminosity of the night. 

“Sorry if I startled you, it’s just—he’s kicking so hard. Come, come feel!” You blubber excitedly, reaching out for his hand to place it on your belly. He slowly takes a knee, staying still as stone to soak up each movement. “He is so strong, Ralak. Like you.” You whisper, looking down at your mate doting on your bump. 

Though he should be proud of your words, he can’t help but feel a little nervous by them. If this child is really like him, then what Ronal said may have some truth to it. Yet he smiles, smoothing his thumb over your protruding belly button. 

“He is strong like his sa’nu [mummy].” He says softly, perhaps in attempts to reassure himself and calm his own nerves. Your smile only grows and you place your hand on top of his. 

“What did Ronal say?” Ralaks eyes snap up to yours, wide and almost panicked, wiping the smile off your face instantly. “Oh, no. Is it bad? Is something wrong?” 

“No, no. She says…” He drops his head, watching his unborn move as he contemplates telling you. You need rest, and this would further stress your mind and body. Ralak urges himself to smile—to create a new mask—one of feigned happiness. “…you must rest. Wait until sunrise.” 

“Oh, okay.” You exhale a sigh of relief, “Good. I—I can do that.” 

—— 

After such an eventful night, sleep found you easily. Ralak carried you up the marui stairs, tucked you into bed and watched as your eyes fluttered shut. And even so, he remained at your side for some time, ensuring you were deep in sleep before embarking on his new task. 

It began with a ‘quick’ trip inland for the right kind of wood. The kind that holds up well against the elements and the saltiness of the water. The kind that doesn’t have a slip to it when it's been wet for more than a few hours. It took a few trips to get it all back to the beach but it was more of an irritable task than a difficult one.

Ralak tried to keep as quiet as possible, spending the rest of the night—until sunrise—cutting and carving the wood, binding them together with twine, sap and wooden pins. And by the time the first few rays of sunlight beamed in, he was engraving his finishing touches. 

—

Ralak chucks down the tool and it lands into the sand with a muffled thud. Using the back of his strake to wipe his forehead clean of sweat, he looks up at his work for a final time—railings for the marui stairs. Then the bright ray of sun shines before his eyes, standing between his two new creations. 

You.

You’re surprised to see him out this early, still in his gear from last night. The realisation dawns on you that he’s been up all night, doing this. You can actually feel your chest warm up as your heart pumps the blood through your veins at an insane rate. It rushes to your cheeks, making them hot and flushed. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?” You ask the question under your breath, dragging a hand along the railing. It’s smooth under the pads of your fingers, and warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been filed down. You notice a small carving on the side of the railing—your son’s initial.

R. 

“Mm.” He grunts, not that he could have slept anyways. He glances at the initial that you’re staring at. “I should have done it long ago.” The shame in his voice is loud and clear. You look down at your feet, unsure of what to say, noticing that he’s redone the steps too. 

“Ralak—”

“You must still wake me. Understand?” He cuts you off, already knowing what you’re about to say. 

You take a step down, holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and the other tucked under your bump. He rushes up the stairs and supports you by the arm. You lean into him for a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. “… thank you, my love.” 

“Kea tìkin [no need (for thanks)].” He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, words muffled by your hair. His hand slips down your arm and rests on your lower back. “Still feeling pain?” 

“No. I feel good. Like new.” You smile, watching his features soften and his lips pull into a subtle smile. “Your son, too. He kicked me all night.” 

“Is that so, young one?” He leans down to speak to your belly as you watch intently, “you must be gentle with your sa’nu [mummy].” 

As he looks back up to you, your eyes follow his every move. And suddenly it’s just the two of you, before the orange glow of the sunrise, sharing this intimate gaze with one another. 

“Ralak… I see you.” You say softly, witnessing his pupils blow until there’s nothing but thin rings of blue.

He swallows, you see the lump in his throat undulate, and the balls of his cheeks stain a light pink. He blinks a few times, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. He lingers there for a bit, jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth a few times. He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest. 

How could he keep this from you?

“Oel ngat kame, ma’ muntxate.” He husks the words before locking his lips with yours.

But as he pulls away, you see the glint in his eye. When he sees your lowered brows and inquisitive eyes, he attempts to fix his mask of indifference—no, happiness. But you see right through it—

The glint of guilt. 

“What is it?” You ask, reaching behind him for his kuru. It’s your way of saying, 'no secrets'. He’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unsure of how to say what he should say. You urge him with a light tug to his queue, creating a little more distance between you to look him dead in the eye. “Ralak.”

“Ronal doubts…you.” He says plainly, trying hard to rid himself of the thought of childbirth taking you away from him.

“I don’t understand. What—what does that mean?” You ask, confused and worried. 

“I should have told you about it when you asked.” Ralak says, shaking his head. “But…you were already under so much stress. In pain. Our son—” 

“Ralak. Tell me about what?” You whisper quietly—quickly. Ralak looks at you, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before he speaks. 

“Mun’i [the cut].” Ralak’s voice cracks with pain as the dreaded thought floods his mind. 

Ralak goes on to explain mun'i, giving you a brief lesson on its history and typical…outcome. He explains why Ronal urged him to warn you about it. And exactly what he told her in return. That he is confident that you are more capable of doing this. 

It ends with a comforting embrace and the both of you coming to the conclusion that a conservation with Jake is needed. If the cut were to happen, the sky people’s medical advancements would be…useful. 

——

Since then, Ralak adapted a very strict agenda when it came to the preparation of the birth. In some ways, it reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with him as teacher and student. Karyu and Numeyu. A revision of previous lessons, such as breathing lessons. 

—

“Deeper breaths, tanhì. Slow.” Ralak instructs you with his hand on your round belly. 

“It’s hard…” your voice is strained, “when his feet are in my lungs.” 

Ralak chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Right. Do your best.” 

You attempt to follow his demonstration a fifth time, inhaling deeply through your nose, holding it, and then slowly letting it out through your mouth. “Light headed now.”

“You did well.” Ralak praises you, snaking an arm around you as he lowers you onto your back. “You all right?” 

“Just fine.” You mutter, grateful for the new position. 

Ralak looks at you for a while, taking in a sight that may be similar to the one of you giving birth—giving life. The reality that you will soon be a family quickly dawns on him. The reality that… Ronal's words still weigh heavy on his heart.

“And when you bear down…” Ralak pulls your leg back, your knee now grazing against your cheek as they flush with embarrassment. “…shallow, fast breaths. Do not hold it.” 

He then demonstrates, emphasising the sound of the breathing technique to ensure you’re doing it properly.

'…hee—hee—hoo…'

You mimic his sounds, looking down to see nothing but your protruding bump. It may be strange to some that Ralak is teaching you a lesson on something such as childbirth. But with his mother-figure being the tsahìk, there were just certain things he grew to have knowledge of. 

“Ronal says there are times where it is best to allow your body to take over. Focus on breathing him out. Let your body do the work for you…” You nod slowly as you practice deep breathing in this new position, “…she will show you some positions in your lesson tomorrow.” 

"What?" Your ears perk up. For some reason one on one interactions with Ronal always make you nervous. 

“The other expecting women of the clan will be there.” 

Your ears relax, and you feel a little more at ease knowing you won’t be alone, even if it’s a sea of gossiping women. At least they were more discreet about it. 

——

As you neared the final months of your pregnancy, Ralak was called out more frequently. The aches and pains that came along with being so big were just as frequent, it seemed. They’d hit you at the strangest times, during your sleep or whilst on your tsurak.

But when the pain spread to your abdomen is when Ralak urged you to take things easy. But they didn’t stop him from going anywhere. No matter how badly he wanted to stay home and tend to you. It was more complicated than that. Something that you were blissfully unaware of. Something he wanted to keep that way until it was the right time to tell you. 

—

“Must you go?” You ask hopefully, tugging at his bicep. “You just got back.” 

“Tono will have my head, tahnì.” He states, buckling his chest gear yet another time for today. 

“It’s not fair. Not even the warriors back at home tree were called out so much. Especially if their mate was this far along.” You huff, letting go off his bicep to clutch your protruding belly. He cups a hand over yours, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Ah. I know, I know. I want to stay, I do—” He’s cut off by your sudden gasp, and your face screwing with discomfort. “Are you alright?” His voice turns fills with concern, head tilting even more so that he can look you in the face. It felt as if your back set ablaze and your stomach hardened into rock. It eases up within a few seconds and you take a quick breath before answering. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You feel around your bump, taking note of how it’s softened and back to normal. “…that’s the second one today.” 

“Hm. It is. See Ronal while I am gone.” Ralak insists, tucking a couple loose braids behind your ear. You nod in response, gritting your teeth from the reminder that he’s leaving again. “I will speak with Tonowari today.” 

He’s quick to kiss you, lingering longer than he should. You savor his tender touch, breathing him in until you’ve gotten your fill to last you until he’s back. He pulls away, a grimace fixed to his face as it’s almost painful to do. He rubs your belly a final time, clicking for his beast. Reluctantly, he leaves, and so do you.

—

‘Practice Contractions.’

Ronal’s diagnosis of your pains. 

You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept. Mom calls them something different, but it all means the same thing at the end of the day. The body’s way of preparing to give birth. The constriction of your stomach, accompanied by intense pain, at random times with no rhythm. 

It’s normal, and expected. Ronal was particularly pleased to see your body do this early in your pregnancy. It typically occurs a couple weeks prior to birth, and both of you weren’t due for another month. 

They’re nothing to worry about, but she advises to rest if they get too intense. You waddle home with your tail dragging behind you, unhappy to see no sign of your mates return. 

—

“You are late.” Tonowari speaks monotonously, back turned to Ralak as he keeps his eyes on his task—forging a new tool. Ralak has to swallow his frustration and maintain his confidence. 

“It will happen soon.” He responds in a similar tone, his eyes following as the olo’eyktan stands. “I must be with her.”

“I understand. I do. But—” Tonowari finishes up the last touches, giving the tool its final inspection. “This is your duty, son.”

“She, is my duty.” Ralak snaps, his frustration slipping through. 

Feeling challenged, Tonowari turns to face him, now eye level with Ralak as he slowly nears his subordinate—chest to chest. But with a pregnant mate of his own, and the fact that Ralak is like his own son, Tonowari huffs a sigh and gives this a pass.  

“This is for her, too. For the people of the clan. You know what we are about to face. You will do this.” The olo’eyktan states sternly. “When the horn sounds… you come. And that…” he shoves the tool into Ralak’s chest, “…is an order.” 

Holding the tool against his own chest, Ralak looks away from Tonowari, grinding his back teeth hard enough to file them flat. He breathes heavily, attempting to recenter himself and stamp out the flame flickering in his chest. Tonowari gives him space, going ahead and mounting his skimwing, readying himself to embark on their journey. Whilst Ralak is left behind to let out a sluggish, shaky breath, closing his eyes when it dawns on him...

…what he must do, where he must go and who he must see. 

All before coming home this evening. 

—

“Zu’té.”

Ralak calls his name outside of the secluded, dim marui pod. It’s familiar, yet so unknown. It’s an eerie feeling to be standing here. It’s as if no one’s home. Not a single flame burning, nor the residual heat of a smothered fire pit. But Ralak can sense his presence. It’s thick. Aggressive. Just as it’s always been. It’s only intensified since the incident. 

The silence is deafening now. A message loud enough to have Ralak reconsidering his actions—rethinking his feelings. No part of him really desired to ask anything of this man, much less this. But in the case Tonowari really doesn’t budge with his decision, it is something he must do. No matter how many years have passed. Ralak has moved on…come to terms with what’s happened, and is in a much better place in his life now. Because of you.

You.

He’s doing this for you. Or is he? The fact he’s fathered a child has a major influence on his decision to be standing here to begin with… perhaps it’s something within him driven by nature—by instinct. The further you’ve progressed, the more he’s thought about rekindling this relationship. But he always brushed off these passing thoughts, until they were no longer just thoughts that passed. They became thoughts that lingered and kept him awake some nights. 

Showing their faces the most when Tonowari reminds him of the imminent danger the clan may face.

They reminded him of the good times when they were children. Teasing the ilus when no one was looking, sneaking off to the reef where the adults went to hunt just to see what it was like. But it also reminded him of the more unfortunate moments they shared. Those that will forever leave a scar on their souls, branded by pain and suffering. Since then, Ralak took an oath to never allow his own family to suffer the way he did. 

If this is what he must do, he’ll do it.

“I am in need of a favour.” Ralak finally admits, witnessing a tall, thick silhouette emerge from the marui. 

At this angle, its darkness looms over Ralak ominously. Green glowing eyes peer down at Ralak as the figure's hands cross defensively over his chest. He steps out of the darkness, revealing his inked face and intricately up-kept hair. He looks as if he’s been disturbed or rudely interrupted, evident in the way his eyes pierce fearlessly into Ralak. But Ralak simply returns the leer. 

“Zu’té.” Ralak speaks his name again, a little more sternly this time.

“Brother. To what do I owe this visit?” His tone is sarcastic with undertones of hostility. 

Ralak sighs, turning his head away from his older brother, fixating his gaze elsewhere. His jawbone flutters as he struggles to figure out what words to string together next. This isn’t easy for him—being here with his tail tucked between his legs. 

“It is no way easy for me to ask you of this…I know we have not spoken for some time.”

“Really? You think so? I would say it has been a little more than ‘some time’, no?” Zu’té’s irritation is shining through now.

“Agreed.” Ralak speaks sharply, dropping his head, gaze piercing into his own feet. He swallows and sighs once more, finally lifting his head to look his brother in the face. "I need your help, brother."

“Hm.” Zu’té scoffs, meeting his stare flagrantly. “Let me get this right. You come here, wake me out my sleep, speak to me like this for the first time in over forty-eight seasons…and demand my help?”  

“You are the only one I trust with this.” Ralak grinds out the words, they are hard to admit. 

This quietens Zu’té, causing his features to soften and his fixed stare to falter. To hear this after twelve years, straight from his brother’s mouth has him a little taken aback. There’s only one thing that it could mean—that could bring the golden child before him, begging for a favour. 

War. 

“What does our ‘mighty’ olo’eyktan have you up to now, baby brother?” Zu’té’s tone is especially sardonic when speaking of their father-figure. 

“Plenty.” Ralak chuckles quietly, shaking his head in amusement. His curved lips fade into a thin line, returning his grim expression when he’s reminded yet again of his exact reason for being here. “Look…” Ralak exhales, “...it is nowhere likeable for me to show my face like this. Trust me, I have thought of every possible solution. But…" he shakes his head, hesitant to share what he must say next. "My mate...she is pregnant."

Zu’té’ sighs when he realizes the gravity of the situation, eyes narrowing as they look behind Ralak to scan his surroundings. He’s far from all of the neighbouring marui pods, being the last pod along the mangroves. But if someone were nearby, they could eavesdrop with ease.

Zu’té lightly nudges his head, giving Ralak the silent signal to enter his marui. Ralak moves slowly, a little surprised by his change in...heart. Annoyed with Ralak's sluggish movement, Zu’té rolls his eyes.

“What? You expect an invitation?" Zu’té asks the rhetorical question loud and clear, watching in awe as his not-so-little brother stands almost eye to eye with him. "...you've grown."

"Surprised?" Ralak mutters, ears spasming from his brother's comment—shuffling past him.

"Don't get smart with me, little brother." Zu’té snaps with his ears pinned to his skull, automatically slipping back into disciplining his younger brother like he once used to. Ralak fights the smirk pulling at his lips, making his way further into the neat, well-decorated marui.

——

Ralak came home that night, as he does most nights nowadays with a heavy tail and tensed muscles. That night he broke the news that he had no luck with Tonowari. That he remained tied to his duties as a warrior, teacher, hunter and evidently more…that you had no knowledge of. 

But he made it clear that none of them came before you—his most important duty of all. He promised not only to your father, but also to you, to put you first, no matter what. That he will do whatever he needs to ensure your safety is never compromised. Even if it means putting his pride aside, and asking for help, as he did that night. 

The desire to prepare for your son's arrival grew with each passing day, making you nest like an expecting ikran. You smoked enough meat to last for the next couple months, and gathered as many herbs and fruits that you could manage.

Weaving has been one of your more frequent tasks, making a couple slings and a few more blankets. Ralak was quick to build the cot when he got into a nesting frenzy, too.

But regardless of what your next task was, it was always a little bit harder…a little bit more tiring. Until you were so round and heavy that most of them became unachievable. Your size started to affect you in more ways than just physical. It started to affect you mentally, too. Playing tricks on your mind, making you think negatively about yourself.

And Ralak picked up on that very quickly. 

——

As you wait for his return, you give the marui another deep clean. You take small breaks often, sitting down whenever you become short of breath.

Whilst you sweep the patio, you see your mate trudge up the stairs, ears pinned back and exhaustion wrinkled into his forehead. Ralak sees you and wastes no time to take the broom from you and pull you into his chest. 

He holds you in silence. Comfortable silence. Savouring how you feel against his body. The thud of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You’re his safe place. His home. As he is yours. His embrace is what you look forward to the most after a long day apart. 

Perhaps this is what you both need. A moment of peace and quiet, where your focus is purely on the person in front of you. A break from the mayhem that life can entail, from the pull and push of the rough tides. Serenity. All to be interrupted by Ralak pulling away, holding you by the arms to create some distance between you two. 

Furrowed brows and beaded eyes stare back at you when you look at him. He’s staring at you, but not at you. His eyes pierce into your chest, and then peel away to flick down at his stomach. A smile creeps on his face, and a huff of air through his nostrils as he chuckles softly. His gaze finally meets yours, and he lets go of your arms.

“Your milk is in.” He almost whispers, his fingertips grazing against your stomach. 

“What?” You breathe, caught off guard to say the least. Your head snaps down, eyes searching every inch of your shawl to find two large, growing wet spots on it. “O-Oh.” You stutter, looking back up at him, catching sight of the glistening liquid on his stomach. “Oh.” 

Your cheeks grow hot when blood rushes to them from embarrassment. Just another thing pregnancy has bestowed upon you. “Sorry, Lak.” You turn to reach for the nearby cloth that hangs by the window. 

“What for?” He asks innocently—a little confused. 

He watches as you wipe him down in an almost frantic manner. He stills your movements by grasping your wrists, causing you to drop the cloth. He brings your hands to his lips.

“Mawey [Calm]. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He speaks into the palm of your hands. You hear his words, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Hey.” 

He lets go, and cups your cheek, urging you to look at him. When you finally do, he’s smiling down at you, allowing his hand to slip down to the bow of your shoulder—his fingers hooking underneath the hem of your shawl. “Let me clean you up, hm?” 

“Oh—okay.” You stutter shyly, feeling his fingers slip under the woven fabric to slip it off your shoulders. “W-Wait.”

And when the material hits the floor, a shiver shakes your spine. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air, sticky nipples hardened into peaks for him to see. They’ve darkened in colour, and are even a little more puffy too.

Honestly, you weren’t the biggest fan of them anymore. You wore thicker tops or shawls to conceal them, just as you did your stomach with your new…stripes. But Ralak loves them, always stealing a glance at every given chance. 

But to know that they’re full with milk makes him feel…on edge. 

His eyes bore into them, unapologetically taking in every detail. His smile falls into a slight smirk, which then droops into a thin line. His jaw flutters as he grits his teeth, biting back his urges. 

“Don’t stare.” You whisper shyly, covering your chest with one arm and your belly with the other. He looks at you, and reaches for your arms, peeling them away from your body. 

“Beautiful.” He states as a fact, intertwining his fingers with yours. “So beautiful, carrying my child.” 

“‘m really not.” You mumble, looking away in shame. You feel his hand move to your face, two fingers tugging at your jaw to have you look up at him. When you finally give in to his nudges, you see the look on his face. It was as if you had deeply and personally offended him.

“You are.” He insists softly. 

You simply shake your head, arms instinctively wrapping around your chest and belly once more. “I don’t feel it. I don’t even know how you can look at me and say that.” 

Ralak almost feels angered by your words. It hurts him to hear you speak of yourself in such a way, especially when it’s far from the truth. If anything, he’s even more attracted to you. Knowing that this is what your body is going through to bring his child into the world has made him even more appreciative of you. 

“Never say such things.” He husks firmly, removing your hands from your body and keeping them in his grasp. “Do not hide.” 

“You have barely touched me.” You retaliate, voice cracking with hurt. 

“Not for that reason.” He’s quick to cut you short, making sure you know that the last thing stopping him from pouncing on you every chance he gets is the way you look. Absolutely not. 

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then—”

Frustrated, Ralak shoves your hand onto his loincloth, pressing it firmly against the bulge that strains against the material. “You feel that?” 

You do, you feel every inch of it, hard and warm against your palm. Your face heats up even more, cheeks staining a bright red. Your breath turns raggedy as you struggle to find the words to say. 

“Hm?” He grunts as he presses himself even harder against the palm of your hand. 

“Y-Yes.” You stutter. Ralak turns you around, pressing himself into you from behind. His heated lips are flush against your ear, hot breath prickling your skin. 

“This is what you do to me.” Ralak husks into the shell of your ear, grinding his bulge into the swell of your ass. “Day after day.” He groans almost painfully, filled with all sorts of emotions. He holds you firm against his body, grazing his bottom teeth against the lobe of your ear. “All it takes is a single glance.” His words have your clit pulsing under your tewng and your thighs rubbing against one another. “The sight of you…of your swollen breasts… your swollen womb…” he hisses, on edge and high strung as he caresses your belly, “…it makes me lose myself.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, reaching behind you to tug his loincloth down in a frantic manner. You feel his lips nibble and nip at the skin behind your ear, making their way down the back of your neck. You can’t help but moan from the feeling, your already stiff nipples tingling from his gentle touches. 

You feel his hands wander over your stomach and under your tewng, his fingers fondling your folds as he gently parts them. He grunts against your neck, inhaling your scent deep in his lungs as his hips stutter into you. Your stickiness coats his fingers as they slip and slide over your hardened nub. 

You tug even harder at his loincloth, struggling to get the annoying thing off him. You let out a frustrated grunt, and he lets loose an amused chuckle, peppering soft kisses down to the bow of your shoulder.

“What is it? Need me to take you right here?” He husks low, voice muffled by his continuous kisses. “…where someone may see?” 

Right, you’re on the patio. 

Out in the open, under the light of the moon. Ralaks marui pod is far from the village on a cul de sac. The only thing further than here is sand, open water and a couple smaller islands off in the distance. However, there' is's always the slim chance of a na’vi or two going for a late night swim or on a romantic adventure far from the village.

But you simply didn’t care. 

If anything it only riles you up more—the riskiness of it all, the thought of being caught. The need to be sneaky and quiet, when all you want to do is moan his name until your voice goes dim. It seems that Ralak feels similarly as you feel him throb against you, excited to take you where you stand. 

“I don’t mind.” You huff shakily, finally tugging the cloth down enough for his cock to spring out. “Do you?” 

You feel him smile against your shoulder when you grip it in your hand, smooth teeth bumping into your skin as his free hand cups your full breast. 

“Not at all, my tanhì.” He breathes, gently kneading the soft flesh, feeling the trickle of your milk flow over the back of his hand. 

“Good.” Your lungs tremble beneath his touch, hand desperately stroking his length. Yet he remains gentle with his touches, pinning your clit between his two fingers as he rubs you slowly. “Then hurry…I need you inside.” 

Ralak quickly moves his kisses back up your neck, and you feel the tip of his tongue tickle the lobe of your ear before he suckles on it lightly. Tingles ripple up your spine, sending your head into a shiver as you lean into his mouth. His fingers dip into your soaking core just as he rolls your tender nipple between his other two digits. 

It’s all too much. All-consuming. Making you gasp for air in lungs that won’t seem to fill. Fog clouds your head. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like this.

You’re already so sensitive as it is, so tender and delicate, like silk under his fingers. He pushes his two fingers even deeper inside your aching pussy, curling them and earning a whimper from your lips and quiver of your tail.

“Not too loud, oeyä sevin muntxate [my pretty/beautiful wife]”. Ralak whispers the hushed praise, knowing it’s what you need to hear. 

You’re so much warmer around his fingers than usual, so much softer. Wetter. With each curl of his digits comes out a squelch as he works you open for his cock that he’s been dying to plunge inside you. 

You wrap your leg around his, perching your heel on the side of thigh as you lean all your weight back into him. He steadies his knees, supporting you with ease. Your head slumps back into his shoulder, opening up your neck to his hot breaths, an arm reaching behind you to fist his hair. 

His brows are tense and his breath is heavy. He’s overcome with arousal and he can’t keep his composure as your scent grows stronger now your throat is directly under his nose. Truthfully it’s been too long, he knows that. He knows he’s been too protective, too cautious. Depriving you and him of the touch that’s necessary between a mated pair. 

His fingers slip out of you, now expertly unravelling the loose knot just barely keeping your tewng on you. As it drops to the floor his fingers are back where they were, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit before spreading your pussylips apart. His hips stutter as he attempts to align the crown of his cock with your slit and finally buck forward when he senses your little, exposed hole. 

His cock sinks inside you at an achingly slow pace—inch by inch. You let loose a lengthy moan when you feel him fill you completely, no longer caring if anyone hears you. 

“Hnng—I missed you.” The gruff words slip out as he bottoms out inside your cunt. He has longed to feel your gummy walls squeeze oh-so tightly around his cock. “You alright?” He checks on you in a daze, voice thick with want—with the desire to pummel your little pussy until your voice is hoarse. But the last thing he wants is to hurt his heavily pregnant mate. 

“Mhm, ple-ase.” You purr with need, closing your eyes and relaxing completely into him. Trusting someone this much feels too good. Ralak moves slowly, pumping his cock in and out of you in a languid haze, tickling your sensitive clit with just the tips of his fingers. 

“Tanhì—haah—you are squeezing me so tight.” Ralak moans as his strokes grow with intent. His hips roll deep, shoving and forcing his cock inside your sensitive cunt until his swollen balls kiss your clit. 

He’s unapologetically coaxing out the orgasm you’ve been denied for so long with only a few lazy thrusts. And he knows it. He can feel it from the way you clench around him. From the way your thighs tremble a little more after each deep stroke…from the sweet, filthy noises that shamelessly drip from your lips. 

“Oh my—Ralak! I-I’m gonna—” You sputter the words between choked sounds, eyes welling with tears from the burn between your legs. 

“I know, I know.” He huffs, dragging his hot tongue along the length of your throat. The truth is, he’s close too. But he can’t allow himself to finish inside you. He can’t risk letting himself go and pounding recklessly into your poor, tender pussy. He’s already had a long day. “Let it out, tìyawn [love].”

Its almost cathartic. 

Weeks of pent up frustration released in a few minutes, leaving you near convulsing in his grip. You can’t stop the flutter of your pussy walls if you try, it’s out of your control, much like the surge of white fire going right through you. Your legs fight to stay open and you hold onto your mate to keep you standing. Gurgled noises spill from your lips as your body shudders under him. His hips still, keeping his cock buried to the hilt inside your quivering cunt as he holds you tight, supporting you until you finish riding out your high. 

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praises you in a hushed, shaky voice, extremely wound up from feeling you flourish so beautifully under his touch. It's a miracle that he didn't empty himself inside you right then and there. 

“But you—but you haven’t—” You sputter, collapsing into him as your legs give out. 

“I know. It is alright..” He hums, carefully leading you inside the marui to lay you on the bed. 

“Thought you were c-cleaning me u-up. Not mak-king m-more of a mess.” Your breath is relentlessly hitching as you watch him hastily remove his tewng that’s been digging into his thighs. A reminder of exactly how quickly things happened. 

“You are right.” Ralak tsks, cocking a brow as he stares down at you with a predatory leer. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

Ralak situates himself between your legs, crouching over you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between him and your stomach. His cock presses between your sticky folds as his lips press against your clammy neck. He tastes the faint saltiness of the thin film of sweat on your skin as he drags his lips down your chest—between your breasts. 

“Lak…” You whisper, back bowing against the bed. 

You’re way too sensitive right now, like an exposed nerve. His eyes snap up and lock with yours, responding to you moaning his name. His tongue darts out, sampling a taste of the spilled milk on your breast. Then his eyes slam shut, tensed brows and scrunched nose telling you that he’s unsure of the flavour in his mouth. 

Eyes widening, you’re taken aback by his actions, feelings of shyness and embarrassment creeping back in. Fisting his hair, you pull gently at his head to pry him off your chest, only for him to resist your tugs. 

“You shouldn’t have done—why’d you do—” You struggle to find the right words at this moment, flustered and nervous that he’d do that. 

But what leaves you even more speechless is when he opens his eyes to reveal dots for pupils, a look you only see when he’s high strung. And then he eagerly takes your nipple into his mouth, latching on and ensuring the suction is airtight. The tip of his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple a few times before he gently suckles at your breast.

A tingling sensation radiates your chest and you feel it in the pit of your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat, a little surprised by his lewd behaviour. And soon, all you can hear are the repeated, muffled gulps of your warm milk flowing down his throat.

“W-What are yo-ou d-doing, my love?” You mewl, squirming underneath him from the strange feeling. He unlatches harshly with an audible pop, leaving your pointed nipple misshapened and exposed. 

“Cleaning you.” He huffs quickly as he catches his breath, diving back in to lap up the milk leaking from your other neglected breast. Your head throws back in what is undeniably pleasure now, legs tightening around his waist. You look down in a daze, watching him feast greedily, feeling his hips begin to stammer against you. 

“Fuck—I didn’t know this i-is what you meant.” You’re finally calming down from your orgasm now, already feeling your body gearing up to have another. His desperation is pungent. Evident in the way his cock grinds between your soft, slippery folds, scenting your cunt with it. 

He pulls off you with yet another pop, his tongue swiping his bottom lip so not to let the bead of milk dripping off of it go to waste. He’s huffing and puffing against you, trailing his wet kisses down your curved stomach as he tucks your legs back. You feel his hot breath against your thighs and your legs tremble in anticipation. 

“Kalin, kalin [sweet, sweet].” He mumbles, kissing your pulsing clit. “Oeyä kalin [My sweet].” 

“Oh shit.” You let loose the breathy curse when you feel his lips pucker around your over sensitive nub, and squeal when he begins to suck on it too. Your hands fly to his head, grasping at his hair to shove his face further into your cunt. He devours you with exhilaration, lapping at your leaking slit to savour your sweetness. 

His cock is aching now. He’s so hard it’s painful. He can’t stop throbbing and his cock strains so hard it’s swollen. He wants to shove himself back inside you— your warmth—and hump at you until his marked you with his essence. 

He can’t help but touch himself as he pleasures you. Stroking his cock with every lick of your pussy. Thrusting into his hand when he feels you throb against his tongue. He’s groaning and grunting into your cunt, urgently chasing his own release as he sucks on you for his own pleasure. 

Too busy to realise that you’ve been begging him to slow down a bit. That you’re too sensitive. That you feel like you may explode if he continues. 

“Ralak! I just came! F-Fuck—” You yank his head away, hurriedly rubbing at your sore pussy.

Ralak pants for air, pulling back into a standing position to reveal that he’s been fucking his hand this entire time. It’s glossy with his precum as it dribbles down his strake. He’s frantically stroking himself, staring brazenly down at your pussy—taking in how it’s flushed and swollen, glistening with his spit and your slick. It’s a delicious sight, tempting him to go in for another taste. 

He’s close and you can tell, his hips are stuttering erratically and he’s groaning like a dying man. You sit up slowly, bringing yourself to your knees as you shuffle your way closer to him. Your chest is level to his cock and you cup your full breasts with both hands, pushing them together only inches away from him. 

He seems a little confused, unsure of what your next move may be. Fuck, you aren’t even sure of what your next move is. But you’re going with your instinct, pinching your nipples until they begin to leak milk. His brows jump, the sight of that sends his hips stammering into his hand. With each huff and thrust sends his cock a little closer to you, until his swollen cockhead is poking at your breasts. 

You shuffle a little closer, moaning softly from watching him get off like this. Then you feel his sticky cock slip in between your breasts, and his hand falls to your shoulders. 

Now he’s fucking your tits in a frenzy, his leaking tip prodding at your lips. You stick your tongue out for a taste, allowing his cockhead to slip and slide against it. He’s groaning and moaning, eyes fixed in the sight beneath him. The pressure from his fat cock between your breasts only makes you leak even more, and that’s when he loses it completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls, thrusting hard enough to shove his cockhead into your mouth. You feel him throb violently against your tongue, his thick, hot load coating your cheeks until they're full to the brim. He pulls out as soon as he realises what he’s down, immediately reaching for your bedside bucket to spit in. 

But you shake your head, glossy eyes staring up at him as you swallow his cum with a singular, loud gulp. His eyes bulge, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he quickly searches your eyes. You simply smile, using a thumb to swipe the single bead of cum on your chin and pop it into your mouth. 

Features softening, he returns the smile, chest heaving wildly as it swells with pride. 

——

[foldingfittedsheets]

I know the answer is probably "it depends", but how long is a mattress actually supposed to last? My mom seems to be of the opinion that mattresses are lifetime purchases, ie that one should last you 30 years. That doesn't sound like it could possibly be true to me, but also I don't know enough about mattresses to be sure.

DEFINITELY NOT!

People see a big purchase and want to ride it as long as it can last and I get it. Beds are expensive. But a 30 year old mattress is just not capable of doing a good job anymore. Even with neurotic care being taken to preserve it, which lets me honest, is very few people.

The average bed will be comfortable for you proper care being taken with waterproof protectors for about 7-8 years on average.

Most people think of replacing between 10-15 years which can be a long time to have shitty sleep. I don't think it's unreasonable to keep a bed for ten years but after that you need to take a very hard look at your sleep time. It's easy to ignore, we wake up and get going and forget what our sleep was like but it's a big deal! It affects every area of your life.

My bed is about eight years old. I've gained a lot of weight with my illness and now what was my dream bed hurts my hips and I wake up achey a lot of mornings. It's not worth it to wring an extra two years outta this guy, when I get a job the first thing I wanna do is get us a new bed.

[starbop]

How SMELLY all the Honkai Boys are...

Here's my ranking of HSR boys based on how much I think they smell. Explanations + headcanons below the cut!

The Top Stinkers

Caelus literally digs through garbage for fun. I don't think I need to defend their spot as the #1 stinkiest mf in this whole game. 11/10 on the stink scale.

Sampo also has the energy of someone who enjoys garbage. I, for one, have no idea where that thing has been and I don't think I want to know. He is also known to hide in piles of snow when need be, meaning he's just out there rolling around on the ground sometimes. 10/10 would not sniff again.

Luka is the sweatiest man alive. But he looks SO good doing it. The sparks and smoke his arm produces, while very cool to look at, do not help his smelliness rating. 8/10 because he at least has good reasons for smelling funky.

I do not think Blade has ever taken a shower. You could fry a whole chicken with the oil from his hair. 9/10.

Boothill smells like a mixture of motor oil, grease, and sweat. Not a smell I would personally hate, but objectively not a good one. Yeehaw/10.

The Smelly

I feel like, in theory, you could smell like anything in the Dreamscape. I just also feel like Gallagher would not choose to smell good. 7/10.

I really want to believe that he'd smell good, but the second he finishes his magical girl transformation sequence, Imbibitor Lunae reeks with the smell of seaweed. I will deduct a stinky point from my initial rating because some people may think this smells good. They are wrong. 7/10.

Neutral Smelling

Yanqing should reek from all the time he spends fighting and training, but Jing Yuan is not letting that boy leave the house without taking a bath. 6/10.

Arlan bathes regularly, but I can't imagine him having a particularly strong smell. Asta will occasionally gift him some lightly scented soaps, though. If anything, he smells vaguely like Peppy. 5/10.

Gepard might get a little sweaty under all those layers, but he doesn't have a strong scent one way or the other. 4/10.

I Am Sniffing Respectfully

I just KNOW that the Astral Express has the nicest bathrooms in the universe. Dan Heng and Welt stay smelling FRESH. 3/10.

(Though Dan Heng has ended up smelling like bubblegum on a few occasions after borrowing March's shampoo...)

Misha smells like a sweet dream. I don't know what dreams smell like, but that's the only way to describe Misha's scent. Vaguely like cotton candy, perhaps. Ethereal/10.

Jing Yuan takes bubble baths with Mimi and you can NOT change my mind. I can totally picture him dozing off peacefully after a nice, warm bath. I-can-overlook-the-cat-hair/10.

We've seen Ratio take SO many baths at this point that I don't think you could find a single speck of dirt on that man's perfect body if you tried. How are his fingers not just permanently pruney? I hate him so much. 1/10.

I AM SNIFFING DISRESPECTFULLY

Argenti smells like roses and sunshine. 0/10 smelliness can I please bottle your sweat sir

Luocha has to smell great with all those flowers he summons. I would grind him down to make potpourri. Not sure about the coffin, though. -2/10.

And as for Aventurine? Cologne. SO much cologne. Whether this is a good or bad thing is up to you, but he certainly has A Smell. Subjective/10.

[honey-milk-depresso]

okey so it my first time writing a request T^T but i absolutely love your batboys fics so i wanted to ask about batboy x scarlet witch reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Scarlet Witch = Baddiest of the Baddies ❤️ I love her

Main 3 Batboys with a Scarlet Witch s/o (GN)

Dick Grayson

Talk about being such a total hottie! That’s what he said out loud when he saw you for the first time. But who can blame him when you’re so cool using your insane witchcraft powers? Absolutely no one.

Dick finds you so cool: when you conjure up spells and hover about in the air like a ethereal being from above (and you are to him), he can’t help but be absolutely in awe of you. In other words, he’s your biggest simp, he’s absolutely smitten for you.

You know how cartoon witches have their own evil minion beside them? Dick’s acting like that with you whenever you two are on a mission or on a patrol.

“Nightwing, hand me my spell book so I can put this demon in place.”

“ANYTHING FOR YOU, S/O—”

But… he also feels sorry for you. There were times you just couldn’t take the stress of things and when he came into your room to talk, he found himself in a completely different world you created out of your power as a form of escapism and engulf yourself in your own imaginary world to shield yourself away from the harsh realities of your life. While impressive… he sympathises.

He doesn’t have powers like you, but when he was younger he used to dream in his sleep he was still with his parents at the circus, living the life. But he’s grown from that to know when to move on. If something unfortunate or even small has happened to you, he’ll always be there in your little sphere of your imaginary world, whispering sweet things about how things will be okay to hopefully get you to open up to him and that you don’t have to always rely on your powers to feel better.

He’ll always be here for you…

…and he’s completely downbad for you. But he loves you is all that matters- <3

Jason Todd

And he probably liked you immediately because you wear red and you have a shade of red in your name. Jason won’t be a simp immediately, but as time goes on I bet you the sum of Bruce Wayne’s net worth that he’ll be on his knees for you everyday.

Your witch powers are just so cool? Hello??? He loves going on patrols or missions with you just to see you in action. I’m also very convinced that Jason has thought of asking you to join the Outlaws (either version). You’d make a perfect addition.

Like Dick, he probably sympathises on your escapism habits through using your powers to create an illusion of an imaginary world suited just only for you, and probably a lot more. He didn’t have a very good upbringing, and a lot of time while his parents were arguing and the environment of his home got too scary, he’ll shut himself out and dream of himself in his own little world to escape the situation around him. It’s just that for you, you take that to a whole new level.

Jason, while he understands your reasons for this, he knows by experience it’s not healthy. You’ve got people around you who you can confide and if you feel insecure to share your feelings, he’s there for you. You shouldn’t feel ashamed to tell him.

He’s not so good with words, but he’ll sit there and listen if you want him to. He’ll hold your hand in his and hopefully get you to open yourself up more to him and confide in him instead of relying solely on your powers.

Overall, he’s in love with you. <3

Tim Drake

Tim finds your powers really interesting (and cool). He’s always asking questions about them: “How does it feel when you use astral projection?” “Have you ever travelled across multiworlds?” “Probability manipulation? How does that work? Mathematically or…”

Yeah, he’ll be yapping a lot when he’s around you. But he does find you quite dangerous if you’re not on his side, luckily you are though so he thinks your powers are super cool but also super life threatening if you aren’t careful but he trusts that you can handle your own powers.

Tim also likes to ask about your witchcraft and magic (and maybe his D&D brain is sparking when he asks about it), he always wants to be beside you to see the kind of spell books you’re reading. You’d also be surprise of how many languages he knows if the book is in Latin or some otherworldly language, like how does he knows?? Let’s be real, he knows just to impress you-

Oof… escapism? When has he not ever try to escape reality in his life? Out of the three, this habit of yours hits him too hard to home. When he was a child and up until now, him sleeping for the very little moments he has before he needs to get to work is his own form of escapism and imagining things are okay.

He feels a bit hypocritical for saying this to you, but he knows it’s not always healthy doing that. Tim, like the rest, will sit beside you in your little bubble of illusion, hugging you close and kissing you softly, asking whether or not you want him to share your feelings to him and that you can confide in him.

He just wants you to know you’re not alone, and that he’ll always be there for you if you need him. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[hannieehaee]

ENDLESSLY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite not having a large audience, jungkook's camboy career prevailed with the hopes that someday he'd make enough money to finally leave his dead-end job. what happens when one of his admirers offers to make that dream come true?

content: camboy!jungkook x trustfundbaby!reader, jungkook is shy, jungkook is a faceless camboy with a very small audience, reader is younger than jk, kind of pathetic!jungkook, reader is rich and very confident, slowburn (kind of), afab reader, smut, camming, masturbation (m receiving), oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 2126 (teaser); 12.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 28th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this took me forever to finish lol i hope its any good at all</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Well, that's it for today guys, thanks for watching."

With an awkward chuckle, Jungkook reached out to his computer screen and shut the laptop closed, groaning just as he stopped being out of earshot.

233 viewers.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Jungkook the hope that maybe someday he'd be able to find pride in the number. Maybe his streams would blow up in views overnight one of these days – the hope prevailed. It had been a month since he hit the 200's, now garnering an average of 250 viewers per stream.

It was quite embarrassing to him sometimes. There were instances in which he'd finish a stream and regain full consciousness of his actions, becoming embarrassed at the knowledge of strangers watching him cum — of them hearing his voice and his whimpers as he played it up for their entertainment — and of him not even being able to make a living out of it.

He had to stay creative, sometimes finding scripts online that he'd read out to his viewers while he jerked off, playing the role of a subby coworker or a dominant childhood friend in order to keep his audience engaged (and maybe incite one or two to send money his way). Other times, he'd simply ramble about his life (but never get too specific) whilst he let himself lose control on camera.

Jungkook never once showed his face, only ever giving people glimpses at the tattoos decorating his arm and of his cock as it stood against his abs. The most he'd ever shown had been a small view of his lips before the camera's frame cut off.

He liked it this way.

In reality, he was too shy to ever be outspoken about doing such a thing, which was why no one in his life knew about it. He didn't judge anyone who enjoyed camming, but he was simply too self-conscious to do such a thing. Despite being aware of how handsome people thought him to be, he had never been too forward when it came to sex, much less this.

This had all started a little over a year ago, when he'd come across a few cammers on Twitter late into the night. Going on their accounts out of sheer curiosity, he realized that they each had a large following, not only on Twitter, but also on camming websites. Some of them even had their Patreons and PayPal accounts linked to their accounts, amassing even more revenue from these third party websites on top of their income from the camming sites. This was what mainly caught his attention.

Part of him felt bad about being on it solely for the money, but he was beyond desperate. And so he held the false hope that he'd somehow have the same luck as them and create an income out of this.

As someone who had only recently graduated university, having found no luck in his field, Jungkook had to resort to applying to jobs he felt were below his level of expertise. Having no connections in his field and no call-backs from employers, he found himself working a part time at a gas station accompanied by a part time at a grocery store. Both jobs were miserable to him.

The jobs themselves were not horrible, but attempting to manage both schedules and both sets of responsibilities was slowly weighing down on him. His coworkers were also not the best to be around. And did he mention the commute to each establishment? That part ate up at his days drastically, leaving him with almost no time for rest.

Jungkook knew that he should've given up on camming a long time ago. Hell, he'd made a grand total of $876 dollars in the past year he'd been at it. That would be a laughable amount to all the cammers that had inspired him into taking such a profession. But he didn't have any other prospects. Even as he worked his two jobs and cammed, he continued to search for more fulfilling (and better paying) employment, but was unable to ever even get any callbacks.

And so now he found himself doing about three streams per week, getting more and more discouraged each time he'd end a stream with the same low number of viewers.

With yet another sigh, Jungkook got up to go clean himself up, lethargic in his movements due to both the physical and mental exhaustion of having worked all day, only to come back home for a lowly appreciated stream.

Coming back from a much needed hot shower, he did his usual skin care before heading back to bed, where he had been recording just now. For a moment he pondered whether he should go to sleep now in order to get ready for work early next morning or to indulge in watching some anime as a reward for the tiring day.

Going for the latter, he opened his computer back up, sighing again when he remembered he hadn't closed the tab in which he'd been camming.

But before he could actually tap out of it, something caught his attention, making his eyes widen more than he thought possible.

burner98 donated $1,000

This must've been some sort of mistake. Right? Maybe they mistyped? No one in their right mind would donate such an amount to a faceless cammer ranking up to less than a thousand weekly views.

All his prior donations had been in the lower numbers, usually only ever amounting up to $20. Never had he ever gotten someone to donate anything in the triple digits, much less going into the quadruples.

The name of the donor also caught his attention. Babystarcandy. It was a frequent watcher who had been in attendance to every single stream of his starting a few months back — which was when they'd first made an appearance in his audience.

He had never noticed this viewer in particular, though they were one of the only people to ever grant him donations. They'd usually donate whilst he was off stream, which he found slightly strange but never questioned. Checking through his donation history, he saw this name listed three times prior, with donations of $5, $15 and $20 respectively. They'd happened throughout the months, with no pattern in particular. It made no sense for them to donate such a high amount to Jungkook out of nowhere, especially not while he wasn't actively on stream.

With a heavy heart and half a mind to simply keep the money, he decided to message the donor to inform them of their mistake and follow through with a refund.

So much for his anime binge before bed.

babystarcandy - Hey, burner98. Thank you so much for the kind donation, but I think you made a mistake. I'll refund you.

He decided to go with something kind of formal. After all, he'd never spoken to this person before.

Surprisingly, the response came within minutes. Being three in the morning, he assumed you'd wait til the following day to reply, but maybe you were in a different time zone.

burner98 - omg hiii !! did i make a mistake ?? im sorry !! i meant to send 1k. did it not go through correctly ?

Had that not been an accident? One thousand dollars?

This made no sense. Why would you send him such a large amount out of nowhere? That was more than he'd made in the entire past year. Hell, that was half his rent.

Jungkook had no idea how to respond to you.

As much as he wanted to accept it, it felt like robbing you of a fortune.

babystarcandy - Gosh, hi! No, the thousand came through, it's just ... Are you sure this is correct? This is a lot of money ... I'd feel terrible taking so much from you

Once again, you responded almost immediately.

burner98 - haha ur so cute

burner98 donated $2,000

burner98 - is that better ? ;)

Holy fucking shit.

Jungkook's hands were shaking at this point. His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him.

Quickly, he took out his phone to check his baking app, checking to see if the deposits were legitimate. Upon opening it, he found that his balance had in fact gone up $3,000. This was far more money than he'd ever had in his bank account.

He stared blankly at it for a few moments without so much as breathing. A reminder to snap out of his trance arrived in the form of another chime coming from his computer — a new message from you.

burner98 - did i scare u off :((

burner98 - just wanna help u out :(((

Immediately, he rushed to respond, not even thinking before typing anymore.

babystarcandy - no! not at all! this is just so much money. i dont want you getting yourself into financial trouble for me

Within seconds, you responded.

burner98 - haha it's okay i can afford it dont worry <3

He furrowed his brows worriedly, typing up yet another message.

babystarcandy - i really dont mean to sound ungrateful, but why ? it's so much money ... this is life-altering type of money for me (as made up as that may sound) my content isn't even that good. why are you giving me this?

He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by questioning it so much and not simply accepting it, but he'd learned through his life that good things don't just come out of nowhere. He needed more details. At least for his peace of mind.

burner98 - i adoooore ur content. u've helped me so much u have noooo idea !!! u deserve it !! u mentioned in ur live a week ago u were struggling with money, so ofc id wanna help u out pretty <3

Fuck. You actually liked his content? His content was worth $3,000 to you?

Jungkook was almost sure he had accidentally fallen asleep before he even opened his computer. Pinching himself a few times proved for this to be actually real.

babystarcandy - thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me.

babystarcandy - there has to be some way i can repay you.

Was he propositioning himself to you?

Not even Jungkook was sure. He had no idea what he was offering to you, but it was the middle of the night and he was extremely grateful. He couldn't help himself as he typed up that message and sent it.

burner98 - oh ? what would u suggest ?

Oh, fuck. You were agreeing. Okay ... Now what? Jungkook had nothing to offer. He was an amateur cammer with nothing to his name. What could some random person on the internet with tons of disposable income possibly want from him?

babystarcandy - maybe i could give you a call to thank you ? you know, one on one ?

He mentally kicked himself as soon as he sent that message.

What the hell was he thinking, offering up a personal call to some random person online? This could be a friendless creep for all he knew. He had no identifying information about you, other than knowing you apparently had a vast disposable income. I mean, hell, your account name was burner98, you clearly did not want to leave any traceable information about you.

Before he could backtrack (not that he would actually have the balls to), the three dots on your side of the conversation popped up, followed by another message from you.

burner98 - really ??? :00 that'd be amazing omg ... are you free tomorrow ? i'll make it worth your while <3

Staring at the $3,000 sitting cozy on his bank account, he didn't even let himself think before agreeing, sending a quick message in confirmation. He had work tomorrow, but maybe calling off would be worth it considering you were hinting at even more money.

Jungkook felt dirty for some reason, despite knowing what camming truly entailed. However, he also knew that there was nothing morally wrong with what he was doing, so he pushed that shyness to the back of his mind and began drafting up some sort of goodbye message that encapsulated your plans to call tomorrow and a few more thank you's for your donations.

burner98 donated $5,000

burner98 - just a little thank u for ur kindness ;) see u tomorrow baby ~

Jungkook had to swallow the gasp that was about to leave his body. Five thousand dollars??

You'd managed to drop eight thousand dollars on him within an hour's time. This was four months of his rent. Jungkook had never had this much money lying in his bank account. Its mere presence was making him nervous.

Not only that, but the thought of talking to someone who had this much money to give without a second thought scared him shitless.

There was no way he'd sleep tonight.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[supercutszns]

luke castellan comforting his gf?

btw i love ur work 💗💗

wc + pairing: 0.9k, luke castellan x reader

oh i really needed this,,, if i stop writing comfort fics i’m dead i will literally write a thousand of them over and over they could be exact replicas and i would not care. sorry this took such a long time i've been in a big writing slump and i really don't like this but we have to start somewhere <3 every time someone requests a comfort fic i get very happy inside! i know this isn’t my best work like at all but hopefully it’s enough for now

Luke’s good at finding hidden things. A playing card wedged between wooden panels. A camper that always trudges at the back of the line. He can find something at its most sheltered and pluck it right back where it belongs. He’s good at that with you, too. When you wedge yourself somewhere tough, he slips through the cracks every damn time. 

You’re exhausted. You don’t know what time it is, how long you’ve been here, or how you can stop it. You just couldn’t get up this morning and your siblings let you stay sick. You imagine an alternate version of this day over and over, where you’re up and alive and contributing to something. But that’s not today. But it should be. You dream it until tears press against your eyes but you’ve got no energy to push them out. 

Feeling like this isn’t a constant occurrence, but it happens. Luke finds his way in each time, wedging open the slightest crack in your door or coming in through the window. He comes bearing gifts, he jokes. You don’t ask him where he gets the things he brings you—snacks, chocolate, plastic figurines to place on your windowsill. Menial things you like. Luke has his methods, and you know he loves you too much to reveal them. 

“Got some offerings for a goddess here,” he says when he sits down on your bed, knuckles brushing your arm. If you’re too tired to answer he never minds, he just crosses his legs and pulls your head into his lap. He smooths the hair away from your face to massage your scalp, and lets you rest. He doesn’t ask you for anything. Doesn’t force you to speak. You do when you’re ready. 

“I don’t feel good,” you admit hoarsely, blinking back tears. 

“That’s okay.” He leans down to kiss your forehead. “You just rest.”

It almost makes you laugh. “I’ve been in bed all day, Luke.”

“Mm, yeah, but you’re not really resting,” he says without judgement, letting you cling to his body as you pull yourself up to a seated position. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

You press your face into his neck so the warmth can distract you. Sometimes you say a lot, sometimes you say a little, like your mouth has separated from your body. It almost always ends with, “I feel like shit. I don’t know what to do.”

Luke is patient with you, but never overbearing. He knows you shut down when things are laid on too thick. “Want to take a nap?” He offers, threading his hands through your hair. “I can take you to my cabin, it’s cooler.”

He’s right, so you let him, and he steals you away without a fuss. The sheets smell like him, so even if you want to be alone, he still grounds you. When you fall into his bed you curl into a ball like an armadillo, like you can squeeze the rot out of your bones if you compress hard enough. Luke slots himself beside you after confirming it’s what you want, pressing kisses into your shoulder, until you turn into him and starfish over his body. “You let me know if you need anything, angel,” he murmurs, swiping your hair away from your face. “I’ve got you.” 

You manage to doze off, with his arms loose around your back and his chest underneath you. When you wake up later with a kiss of late afternoon breeze, you’re struck with the disorienting feeling of a good sleep. “Luke,” you mutter, digging your nose into his neck. 

He rouses too. “How’re you feeling?”

“Still bad.”

“Mm.” He kisses your forehead, squeezes you against him. “That’s okay. Want me to go grab you some food?” 

“Can we talk a little before?” 

“‘Course,” he says gently. He ghosts a kiss over your jaw. 

Sleep has pieced together some of the words you need, and Luke brings them out of you with hardly any effort. You have what’s probably a fragmented reason at best, but he doesn’t care. He keeps you anchored to him as long as you want him to, rubbing your back and letting you take your time. Once you’re done with the conversation, Luke diligently wipes your tears and kisses you. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” he grins. “I mean, I do love you. Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You let your forehead rest against his. Your throat feels thick but you get the words out, “I’m worried I’m going to feel this way forever.”

It doesn’t feel good to admit. Luke’s face softens, and he presses a kiss between your brows. “You won’t,” he murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “You’ve got time.”

The length of the day moving around you matters a little less when Luke shields you from it. His knuckles rub across the ridges in your back until you’re sure the texture of his shirt is imprinted on your face. 

After he goes off to bring you some food, you find the strength to go wash your face in the bathroom. It’s practically nothing. Practically. At least you settle back into his bed, the blankets aren’t as heavy as before. You don’t feel better yet, but Luke’s got plenty of time for you. (He’ll pawn his kids off to Chris. None of them need this grilled cheese anyway.)

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant @huang-the-geek @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jennapancake @idunnowhattonamethis @jarofshells @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @lauraisthebestyapper @nininehaaa

[hellodropbear]

like she used to (III)

alexia putellas x sister chapter I, II

edited this in 25 minutes and now I am going to bed... but alexia debut in here today :)

~~~~~~

I sat in the back of the car as Ingrid drove Mapi and me to Johan the next morning. The car was silent, my eyes focussed out the window, hyperaware of the glances that both defenders threw back at me every so often.

Mapi is worried about me. That much I can tell, but I don't know why Ingrid, who I've barely spoken to, seems to think the world is coming to an end. She was in the room this morning when Mapi told me that Mami had called to say that she would see me there. I don't think the tension in the room was hard for the Norwegian to identify. Or it could have been Mapi's wide eyes staring at me that made her think something was wrong. 

Alba is also coming to watch this game even though I told her I wouldn't be playing.

"you are part of the first team for the first time ever, hermanita! It is exciting just to watch you warm up."

I had rolled my eyes as she pulled me into a hug that day, but I appreciated it either way.

Ingrid led me to the changing rooms as Mapi made her way into the stands with some of the other injured players. My locker is beside Aitana's and she beams up at me when she spots me. I thank Ingrid quickly and make my over to Aitana and into her open arms.

"You ready?"

I nod, a smile on my face. For the first time in a long time, I do not think about my sister or what she would say, what her opinion would be. It is hard to grasp the idea that my dreams are maybe becoming a reality. 

E. Putellas 29

It is a dream that I have had for a long time, to have my name on a blaugrana shirt, to be in this very position. It is something I have wanted since I could kick a ball, since I watched my sister do the same thing all those years ago.

They had asked me what name I wanted on the back of my jersey. Because Alexia just had her first name, I could take the last name without the E but Mami said to keep the E. I think she wanted me to just use my first name as well but that is for Alexia. I am only new to this, I thought.

I will not play today, Jonatan told me, but he said he wants me to be a sub in a game with lower pressure after I've spent a few games on the bench and trained with the team for more than a week.

Despite this, Mami and Alba are sat in the audience, between a bunch of relatives and family friends.

A red flush creeps onto my cheeks as I hear them all cheering when I run out of the tunnel to start the warm up. Aitana's arm is around my shoulders and she gives me an extra tight squeeze before winking at me and releasing me from her hold.

I know I will be sitting on the bench for the whole game but just warming up with the team is exciting. The cheering from the audience during the warm up is ten times louder than any crowd I've played in front of, even in the most stressful part of a match.

I try to shrug off the goosebumps that creep over my arms as I take in my surroundings. It is surreal and I think I am in a state of disbelief when Patri approaches me.

"You ok, pequena?"

"I'm good." I look at her as she places a hand on my shoulder. "This is just big."

"I get it. You are very young. You should be very proud of yourself, Elena. You a right, this is a big thing. A huge thing. We are all very proud, remember that."

She squeezes my shoulder before letting go.

"Now get to warming up, stop drifting off with the fairies!"

~~~~~~

It only took Barcelona 5 minutes to establish their dominance through an early Salma goal and by half time they were already up by 4 to 0.

The second half started and by the end of the match we were up by 8 with a decent scoreline of 9-1. Patri pulled me off the bench to go on the rounds to all the opposition and the fans. I have seen this happen so many times that it still feels surreal to be experiencing it.

"Where is your sister?"

Patri's whisper is meant to be harmless but her words are like ice water down my back and my stomach flips inside out. She continues when I shrug my shoulders.

"I saw her earlier with Olga, she's probably sat with the other injured girls."

At the mention of the girlfriend I have not met, I resist the urge to throw up, saying goodbye to Patri and heading over to where my family was in the stands.

My whole family tells me how proud they are and I think Mami takes about a thousand pictures of me and Alba and gets Alba to take some of me and her as well. I am grateful that she ignores Alexia's absence but that does not mean any of us are happy about it.

Mami is frustrated, angry maybe and that is evident in the way she scans the stadium every few minutes and shakes her head or releases disappointed sighs every once in a while.

Alba is sad and it is obvious because she makes no effort to hide the tears that brim in her eyes behind her smile. She tells me it is proud but I know when she looks longingly over to where Alexia should be standing beside me that she is just as upset as I am.

I am offended but I do my best to hide my emotions. I try to be as happy as I can because I am somewhat exhilarated from the experience despite sitting on the bench for the full 90 minutes.

Keira and Ona were being rested for the whole match and it turns out that Keira is hilarious and Ona can provide the best commentary on any match. They are a good pairing and I enjoyed making fun of Keira as she struggled to keep up with our (very slow) Spanish.

I am definitely looking forward to playing at some point. The thought makes me so incredibly nervous but I don't think there will be a better feeling than finally stepping out onto that field with my name on my back and representing my childhood club.

Mami holds me in her arms after she's satisfied with the pictures and I feel a tear drop onto my head.

"I am so proud of you, nina, you have made me proud from the day you were born and you will continue forever. This is just the start of everything. Papi is looking down on us right now with pride too, he's telling all his friends that you are his baby bear and that he taught you everything you know."

I sniffle in her arms.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me Mami, I would be nothing if not for you."

"Oh, hija, I love you."

"I love you too."

Alba throws herself into the hug and proclaims it is now a group hug. Mami chuckles and extends one of her arms around her.

"Mi hermanita is all grown up!" Alba cheers quietly so only me and Mami can hear. "15 years old and in the first team, a record?"

"Only a record when I leave the bench, Alba." I whack the back of her head with my hand and she recoils from the hug in mock annoyance.

"I should go, Mami, I'll meet you out the front?"

She nods and I kiss her cheek before wandering back to the changing rooms.

I am surprised when they are empty but the sound of the showers tells me that I will not be alone for long.

It is supposed to be a happy feeling, but I can not help but feel alone in this room, full of the belongings of people who are older than me, more experienced, skilled. People who know my sister better than I do.

People who will always look up to La Reina. Who will always hang off her every word.

I wish that was me still because if it was, I would not be alone in this locker room right now, I would be celebrating with my sister.

But she is nowhere to be found.

She didn't even say hello to me, she didn't say congratulations, she didn't even acknowledge my existence. It hurts me more than I care to admit, but maybe that is what she meant when she said I was weak.

I wipe the tears out of my eyes before they spill and it is good timing because a whole group of girls walk into the locker room at the same time that Ingrid and Frido return from their showers.

"Our pequena!" Marta cheers when she sees me in my cubby and paces over to pick me up. "You are one of us now, welcome to Barca!"

Everyone cheers and a big smile takes over my face as I am thrown amongst the group of people, being hugged and patted on the back, loud yells in Spanish bouncing round the room.

Aitana holds me for longer than everyone else and whispers her congratulations in my ear.

"You need a lift home today?"

I shake my head and smile.

"Mami and Alba are taking me out to dinner."

Aitana nods and begins talking about how exciting it is that I have finally been introduced to the first team and how I have grown up and I zone out and scan the room.

The loud chatter is a far cry from the near silence that engulfed the room five minutes ago.

I spot Mapi in the corner of the room speaking animatedly to Ingrid.

Frido is also there, laughing with Caro and Marta

Jana is beside Bruna, a giddy smile on her face as they chat to Esmee.

That can only mean one thing, Alexia is somewhere in here but I do not want to speak to her. I do not want to see her and I do not want her to see me. I excuse myself from Aitana to quickly grab my change of clothes and I go over to the showers, spending the longest possible time rinsing myself and washing my hair and an even longer time drying myself and getting changed.

I spend a humiliating amount of time in the stall but I do not hear anyone else come into the bathroom so I don't really think anyone had noticed.

If I had known what was been waiting for me when I opened the door of my stall I probably wouldn't have opened it.

Because the bleached blonde hair was the first thing I clocked, but her confidence oozed out of her as she leant against the wall, her arms crossed, her head resting against the blue paint like she was bored.

I don't say anything when I see her, trying my luck by just walking straight past her but her hand reaches out and stops me from leaving.

"No, Elena, don't run away from me."

"What do you want from me, Alexia?"

She let out an exhale and her features softened slightly. I look down at her feet, willing myself to not make eye contact.

"Why did I find out you had joined my team through a post on Instagram?"

I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders, making an unintelligible sound that tells her that I do not know and I do not care. I try to leave again but she just stops me again.

"Why do I not know anything about you anymore? Why did Mapi find you in the middle of the park near her house last night when you should have been in bed like Mami thought?"

At least Mapi didn't say anything. I was worried, she is terrible at keeping secrets.

I just scoff because I don't know how else to react to the irony.

"Where is your girlfriend?"

She sighs.

"Olga is in the changing room with the others. You can meet her if you would like."

"I do not want to meet her."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted to confirm it wasn't just another one of Alba's rumours. You never told me."

I am proud that my voice doesn't falter, that it doesn't break. It is calm, level, despite the emotions that are raging inside of me.

"And whose fault is that?"

I roll my eyes but I avoid saying anything. She hesitated before continuing.

"We were best friends Elena, what even happened? Why did you stop talking to me, why did you start skipping our thursday night dinners?"

I scoff as she tries to make eye contact.

"I am not having this conversation now, Alexia. This is supposed to be a happy day but you are ruining it. You don't remember, that is the problem."

"I should be part of this day with you. I am your captain now."

I hold back a laugh.

"yes, captain, anything you say captain." I salute her weakly and turn around to leave, pushing past her outstretched arm.

Mapi looks at me cautiously as I walk back into the changing rooms but she is chatting with Olga and I do not want to have any interaction with her. I wave goodbye to her and Ingrid and say goodbye to a few of the others.

"What did she say?" Aitana had walked out with me and had apparently seen Alexia enter the showers earlier as well.

"That she is my captain now." I don't think I will ever forget her coldness.

"She is also your sister, Lena, she must be proud?"

If she is she has not shown it.

"She is my captain before she is my sister." My voice is monotone and I stare straight ahead of me. "Football always comes before family. It always has for Alexia."

Aitana shakes her head.

"It should not, it is not healthy."

I can't help but agree with the midfielder beside me.

~~~~~~

Dinner with Mami and Alba is nice, although I shouldn't have expected the topic of my oldest sister to be completely neglected the whole evening. Thankfully, she waits until we are all in the car driving home to bring it up.

"Your sister should have been there today, Elena." She makes eye contact with me through the rear view mirror and I look away.

"There are many things she should have done but didn't." I mumble quietly so Mami can't hear me, but Alba does and she looks back at me weirdly.

"Alexia said she was going to talk to you, she told us how proud she was and I said that you would want to hear her say it to you."

"She's... proud of me?" My voice is soft and I can see my mother's eyebrows furrow in the mirror.

"Of course she is, you are her baby sister and you have just joined her team. She was upset that you didn't tell her and I don't think she really understood why but, Lena, she was practically crying. She is a very proud big sister. I told her to come with us tonight and she seemed keen, said she would meet you in the changerooms and come out with you."

"Why does she tell you all this but when she talks to me she is so cold?" My voice is barely a whisper yet both Mami and Alba hear me loud and clear.

"She went to meet you in the dressing room, she was excited for you to meet Olga and Olga was excited as well. What did she say to you?" Mami frowns, her eyes flickering over to Alba who also had creases in her forehead.

I shrug.

"She asked me why I didn't tell her that I had joined, why she doesn't know anything about my life anymore. She said she was my captain, she should be part of my life. I think she meant my football life, not my actual one."

"What makes you say that?" Alba is the one who speaks because Mami looks devastated.

I look around dramatically. "If she wanted to be part of my actual life she would be here right now, no?"

Alba runs her hands over her face in frustration but I don't think she is frustrated at me. Just the situation. I think it has upset Alba more than anyone else and I feel guilty.

"Sorry." 

"No, hermanita, this is not your fault, I just don't understand what is going through Alexia's head."

"It's ok, Alba, Mami. I don't mind. Really, I don't."

Mami just shakes her head. She is not happy and she clearly does mind.

"No, you and your sister need to sort this out, pequena, I simply cannot stand it any more. You will be home for dinner this Thursday and you will talk about it."

"But I have train-" I am interrupted.

"No you do not, you are not playing with the B team at the moment, don't be ridiculous. You will be there and we will discuss it then. We also need to discuss what we are going to do about your school."

I groan, although the change in topic is appreciated.

"Mami! I don't want to have to go back to school because I'd rather do this." She sighs and I roll my eyes.

"La Masia has made an arrangement that will allow you to continue your classes there but your days will be rearranged. You will go to training with the first team until 2, then you will go over to La Masia and do your school classes with your peers there. They will get you a tutor to study with you in the evenings when training usually is to make up for the school you missed in the morning."

Unfortunately, Mami has always been adamant that we get a good education despite mine and Alexia's obsessions with football.

I was quick to get out of the car when we arrived home, having dropped Alba off at her apartment on the way back. I went up to my room quickly, changing into my pajamas and heading to bed quite quickly.

Mami called out to tell me that she was going to see Alexia before bed, so I sat on my phone for a while, the doors locked and my lights switched off.

But my phone was plugged in and my eyes were closed when a soft fist hit my door twice. Thinking it was just mami, I called for her to enter.

But when I registered that bleach blonde hair for the second time that day, all I felt was regret.

"I am tired, Alexia. Please, just let me sleep."

"Elena, please." I hadn't noticed the tears that dripped down her face, the slump in her usual perfect posture. Her voice cracked when she said my name. "I miss you."

"Alexia. It has been a long day, I am tired, I want to sleep. Please, Alexia. Let me sleep." I am acting immature but I am tired, and I don't want to have this conversation now.

She let out a soft exhale, stepping towards me and placing a kiss on the side of my head that is exposed to the air.

I try to ignore the warm shivers it sends down my spine, it has been so long since she did that; since she did something she used to do every night.

She walks slowly back to the door, stopping as she reaches it and resting her hand on the door handle.

"Mami says you don't think I am proud of you. It is not true. I am so proud of you and I love you, pequena. But I don't think you need me anymore, I think you're fine without me. I am sorry, Elena. I am sorry for not being there for you when I should have been, but I will take a step back. I am so proud of you."

She pushed down the door handle and was gone just as quickly as she came and I resisted the urge to call out and tell her she had got it all wrong. I want her to take a step forward, she has already taken a step back. She has already taken 50 steps back.

I need her. More than anything.

But I can't rely on her. I can not be weak in front of her.

I am a Putellas. I can not be weak.

She has to be right. I am fine without her.

~~~~~~

She is still home when I walk downstairs in the morning, her eyes puffy and hair a mess as she sits on the kitchen table with a coffee. My sigh alerts her to my presence but I turn my back on her as soon as I enter the kitchen.

"Elena, please." I don't know how I changed my sister from a leader to a beggar, but today is not the day to ask when that happened.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal silently and head straight back upstairs, locking my bedroom door and eating my breakfast before sitting down on the piano stall, my fingers immediately jumping onto the keys, improvising and experimenting with new notes, chords and rhythms.

I don't know what Mami said to Alexia when she visited last night, but to be quite honest I don't want to know. I just need to keep being ok without my older sister, no matter how much I miss her. She said I should be fine without her, so I will be.

For some reason, I neglect to consider the other words she said.

"I miss you."

"I am so proud of you."

"I love you."

I think I ignore those statements because I can't seem to grasp their validity. If she missed me, she would have seen me; she would have come to my games. If she was proud of me I would already know, she would have told me like Mami had, like Alba had. Like everyone else who is proud of me has.

If she loved me... If she loved me she would be my older sister again.

I miss her, I am proud of her and I love her. It is true and I have never once doubted those emotions.

But it feels like she is just saying what she wants me to hear. What Mami said that she should say to me. I don't think she actually means it.

How could someone who loves me tell me that I am weak?

How could someone who is proud of me tell me that she doesn't want me to achieve my dreams, that she never wants to share a shirt because I am haven't had to work for it?

I don't understand how it could be true, both things at the same time.

I curse at the tear that spills out of my eye, rubbing it away aggressively and shaking my head at myself. No. I can not be weak. Not today, not ever.

My sisters words from today, from yesterday, from three years ago spin in my mind and my fingers become more and more aggressive on the keys of my piano, my song increasing in intensity; reflecting my emotions in the only way I know how. The keys are my home, the notes are my head and the song is my heart. 

Though sometimes the song sounds broken, like right now when there is so much going on. So many chords, rhythms. Increasing speed, increasing volume. My fingers moving at a million miles an hour, barely hitting one key before moving to the next. 

There is so much going on that it is overwhelming, so much going on that it could just explode. Into a million pieces. So many pieces that it would be futile to even try and put them back together.

It does that sometimes, and I have to fall back down to the softness and calmness of the easy rhythms, easily sailing away from the broken song like it never even existed. 

But it always existed, and it's remains will always be there at the bottom of the sea, haunting me, threatening to re-emerge. 

I realise I have been grieving my sister like she has died. I grieve the death of our relationship and how it has changed so quickly and so aggressively. I miss her more than anything, but the thought of what it used to be is overwhelming, it fills me with dread, with complete sadness. 

Those notes that exploded so long ago, still lying dormant somewhere, never gone, never forgotten. There are so many of them, I just wish she would help me pick them up.

My song has already exploded, so I resort to playing soft chords, tears now spilling from my eyes in a continuous stream. There are too many to wipe away and I know that my eyes will be red and my cheeks puffy when I eventually do. I have lost my sister in a way that is almost impossible to comprehend.

Because Alexia isn't dead, and somehow that makes her distance so much harder to understand, so much more hurtful.

She isn't dead, she has just decided she does not want to be a part of my life any more.

The song comes to a conclusion, and my fingers rest on the keys, my eyes staring ahead at the empty stand in front of me, trying their very best to not slip upwards towards the picture that I know hangs directly above it.

The picture of me and my family the day I was born, held in Alexia's arms as Alba tried her best to share me, both of them sitting beside Mami in bed as Papi watched on with a proud smile.

I would go back to that day in an instant if I was given the opportunity.

~~~~~~

I don't go back downstairs until I hear the front door close and Alexia's car drive away. I give it a few minutes before I actually leave the safe haven that my bedroom has become, ignoring Mami's watchful eyes as I slump onto the sofa, using the remote to switch on the tv.

I only watch it for five minutes before my mother switches it off, standing by the door and looking directly at me.

"She is confused, Elena. She doesn't know why this has all happened but she is angry with herself for not being there for you more."

I roll my eyes. Of course she doesn't remember.

"Maybe she should use her brain. Maybe she should just think."

Mami shakes her head at me, it could be in frustration, maybe disappointment. I still do not look at her.

"Maybe you could just talk to her! She doesn't know how to love you when you won't let her. She wanted you to meet Olga yesterday, but you left. She wanted to speak to you last night or this morning but you ignored her."

"But Mami, it is not my fault! It should not be up to me to fix what she has broken."

"She is trying, Elena, and at the moment that is what matters. This just can not go on, you are in the same family, the same football team! Mapi spoke to me yesterday, you know. She was practically crying, Elena, it's effecting even her."

"I never should have opened my mouth to her. Now she has involved herself in something that is not her business." My voice is poisonous and my words aggressive. I know Mapi would be heartbroken if she could hear this, she always has tried so hard to do what is best. Especially when it was about me.

I love Mapi, I always have. She never thought I did because I never gravitated towards her at training when I was little, but that was just because I thought she was another sister - she was like Alexia, always around.

When I was 11, maybe, I didn't realise how upset she got about me 'not liking her', and I had made a joke about never hanging around with Mapi. It was when she left the room that Alexia pulled me to the side harshly.

"Even if you don't like her, Elena, you have to pretend! She is my best friend and she loves you so much."

I remember looking at her with my mouth agape - I love Mapi, I always did. I was confused, it was a meaningless joke - a version of a joke I made all the time to Alexia.

Alexia didn't need to tell me to go talk to her, but I didn't know what to say when I walked out the door and found her sitting down with her back to the wall, tears pouring down her face. I explained everything and she apologised for being dramatic.

Since then, we have gotten along well and I have tried to spend time with her when I can.

It has been harder in the last couple years when I have fallen out with Alexia. They are best friends, I don't want to get in the way of that.

Mami's anger brings me right back to reality.

"That is enough, Elena! Maria only wants to help, but she can't, nobody can do anything except you and Alexia."

I resist rolling my eyes, instead releasing a huff of air.

"I'll think about it." 

My arms are folded and I turn back towards the blank screen, ignoring the way Mami sighs and walks away. 

It is only when I hear her door close that I let my angry facade crumble, my body shaking as I resist the tears. 

I need to stop crying. 

Alexia thinks I am strong enough to do everything by myself.

I need to prove to her that I can. 

Maybe then she will tell me she is proud of me. 

~~~~~~

this is pretty much all the prewritten stuff i have, will write more soon once my exams are done

let me know if there's anything you want to see in the next parts

[burialbunnys]

am i the only one who’s really curious as to what andrew studied in college??

my first thought was that he gives off math/science vibes (like anything STEM). no reason in particular it just seemed fitting yk

but then i was thinking about how in game, andy and ashley have multiple back and forth moments where he does his long winded, poetic speeches as a way to compliment her. which he plays off as an ‘ugh fine ashley ig i’ll do it’ thing, but he seems like he does kind of enjoy it or find it funny at least.

if anything it’s obvious he’s not only good at coming up with stuff on the fly, but very poetic stuff too. these are some screencaps of said moments, as well as a specific line he has in his dream at his parents’ house

that was the line that got me thinking about what if, andrew ‘reads too much poetry’ graves actually studied like literature, or journalism, or creative writing at college. like ik it’s established he can be pretty eloquent in general (cough being a bullshit artist cough)…but just like the thought of him secretly loving to read and analyse writing and poetry is just kinda 🥹🥹

anyways long ass post just to spread my andrew being a english major propaganda

[lionheartedmusings]

hi everyone! i'm once again showing up on your dash with a life update and a request for help, but this time a much brighter update <3 i know i haven't been very active around here but i've been very busy (in a good way) and do want to return to my previously scheduled shitposting soon.

halfway through may i managed to escape a very toxic and damaging living situation and got my first payment from twitch! the support that i've received has been groundbreaking and i couldn't be more humbled and thankful for everyone who's dropped by a stream. something something dreams coming true in ways we didn't expect.

the unfortunate part is that moving took me scrounging up 200€ and a lot of penny pinching, and thankfully (and thanks to the 76 dollar payout from twitch) i was able to survive and keep working as hard as my mental health allowed me to.

i'm currently in the middle of a subathon and i'm? confused and shocked by how much support i've gotten for it, to the point that when the next payment i receive will be my first proper paycheck in over half a year. for the first time in ages, i'll be able to pay my bills and eat and not be panicked about tomorrow, upgrade some things for stream *and* still have some savings.

the problem becomes the fact that twitch only pays out on the 15th of every month and until that happens, i'm at an absolute zero in my accounts and food has run out as well as shampoo and bodywash and all those necessary things. i was incredibly lucky that a friend was able to help me get feminine hygiene products this month. i'll provide screenshots below.

if anyone is able to help me get past this last hurdle i would be eternally grateful, or if you could reblog that would already be so appreciated <3 but if you read this just as an update on my life, know that i am so at a loss for words from all the kindness and support i've been shown, and that if my life is changing it's because of everyone's support and good vibes. thank you <3

my p*ypal <3

[justleaveatnine]

pink in the night - matty healy. part five.

you join the 1975 on tour as an actress starring in the narrative portion of at their very best alongside the lead singer, matty healy. he’s got big ideas and wants to redefine what a concert is, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. on stage together each night, it starts to feel less and less like acting. but is it the same for him?

masterlist

cw: drug use, smoking, panic attacks, a little more blood stuff (sorry)

wc: 5.4k

—

San Diego

“Please don’t kill me.” 

“Huh?” You whip your head around to find Matty standing in front of you, somewhat anxiously for a reason you can't yet determine. You're lounging on the settee on the stage, watching the crew set up as you wait for your call time to begin prep. Matty comes to sit down beside you, and you sit back up from your supine position. 

"Here," he says, practically shoving a paper in your hand. It's been ripped out of a notebook, jagged edges against your fingertips. You begin to read over the words scribbled on the page in dark black ink.

I glow pink in the night in my room I've been blossoming alone over you And I hear my heart breaking tonight I hear my heart breaking tonight Do you hear it too? It's like a summer shower With every drop of rain singing "I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you" I could stare at your back all day I could stare at your back all day And I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right Can I try again, try again, try again Try again, and again, and again And again, and again, and again

You touch your finger to the words, softly brushing against the page. You turn your head to him sat beside you.

"Is this my poem?" you ask, bewildered.

Now he looks even more nervous. This is odd. He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. You aren't sure what to say, but he fills the silence before you have the chance to.

"Erm, when I read it, I couldn't stop thinking about how it basically perfectly connected to the fragments of this song I had started writing. That's why I took a picture of it," he gestures towards it with his hand, "so I could see if it fit." 

He takes another deep breath, somewhat strained. "If I overstepped, or if you hate it-"

The words come out a hundred miles a minute. "Matty, this is amazing. I can't believe you did this. I-I-do you have any of it written to music yet? Or just this? Not just this, god, I mean-

He thankfully cuts of your overwhelmed rambling. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, opening up his voice memos. "Here, uh, I recorded the first bit with a guitar earlier." 

He presses play. The sound of him singing over a simple guitar part rings through the empty stage. It's stunning. His voice singing your words conjures a feeling within you that is nearly indescribable, an electrifying somatic response. He's given the song an eerie but almost comforting feeling. One that almost compliments the show, you think to yourself. His fingers pluck the simple but beautiful backing on the guitar, and as he repeats the words of the chorus that you dream of him saying to you, you look into his eyes. His voice drones on, repeating the phrase over and over until it feels as if he invented the words himself. The whole thing, really. Not just those fatal three words that ring in your ears. It feels like what you wrote was simply words on a page, but the feelings running through your body and mind are all because of him. He took your haphazard notes on a score and turned them into a symphony. 

You hold his gaze until the voice memo finishes with his voice clearing, the noise of him fumbling with the phone filtering through the speaker. 

You let out a small laugh in shock. "That's so beautiful, Matty. I don't even know what to say, I'm a little overwhelmed."

"In a good way?" he asks, nerves seemingly returning.

You touch your hand to his, warmth tangling with electricity. "The best way. I never thought my poems would be anything more than just words on my pages, I didn't even plan on ever showing people."

"Well, that would be a damn shame, love. That poem is amazing, this was just as much you as it was me, don't get it twisted." His smile brings you so much comfort it almost makes you nauseous. You'd write a million books, hundreds of thousands of pages until your fingers bleed if it meant you had that smile directed to you forever.

You look back down at the phone. "I've never written a song before, this is kind of exciting," you let out a soft laugh. 

"And it sure has hell won't be the last. You're letting me see more of that work of yours, darling. I'd love to try and write with you and not just parallel to you next time," he says assuredly. 

How do you tell him that he's the subject of all of your prose, all the of lines filing up the pages of your notebook tucked safely under your pillow?

Inglewood

"Do you ever worry about more casual fans' reactions to the show?" You're sat in the booth of the bus as it sits through the inevitable evil that is Los Angeles traffic. You've got your knees pulled up to your chest as you read a novel, and he's flipping through a magazine across from you.

He exhales out his nose, and flips a page of the magazine "Nah, I usually am just thinking about the people who care the most about the band in everything we do. I think as an artist, you kind of have to, you know? Otherwise it feels like they are taking your devotion for granted. What brings this on?"

"Nothing, I just, uh, I saw a video on TikTok of someone asking if you were really as drunk as you appear up there and it just got me thinking."

He takes a moment to think. "It's hard, I won't lie. Seeing the opinions of people who don't know a thing about me, or the band, or what I'm trying to say, and go on and say that kind of stuff. But I've been exposed to it for years, and the concept of being famous far longer."

"Is there any part of you that worries about alienating people? I don't think you will, I mean, I'm just curious as to what you think."

He runs a hand through his hair before speaking. "Yeah, I do sometimes. But that is usually far removed from when I actually am performing, where I usually am so in my own head I don't give a fuck about what some random person who only knows one song thinks. And I don't mean that as an insult to them, not at all. I just mean in regards to performing, I'm only ever thinking of the message I want to say, and what the people who care most about us will think."

"I don't think there's many other artists who care about and think so highly of their fans as you do," you smile at him. He meets it before turning back to the magazine, and you return to the book leant up against your legs.

San Francisco

Your bare feet pad along the tour bus floor as you slip out of bed. The digital clock fixed to the wall near the front reads 3:24, and you rub your eye with your fist as you approach the kitchenette. 

You open the fridge, the fluorescent light illuminating the empty living area. You take out what you need to make a sandwich, a late snack that will hopefully cure the hunger preventing you from sleeping.

As you make the sandwich, you find yourself humming In My Life, the song somewhat of an earworm to you in the past few days. You mumble the melody peacefully, enjoying the quiet moment in this newfound life of yours that never seems to rest. A noise from the sleeping area startles you, and you turn your head to see a squinting Matty walking towards you.

"Shit, I'm sorry if I woke you," you tell him sheepishly, setting the knife down with a small clatter.

"Nah, don't worry. I haven't been able to sleep all night." He yawns and goes to lie on the couch, phone illuminating his face. You turn your back to him to continue making the sandwich, resuming humming quietly to yourself. You return the ingredients to the fridge, almost forgetting he is sat behind you as you work your way through the song.

Suddenly, Matty begins to impersonate the sped-up piano in a high-pitched voice. The shock of it all and the silly voice he is putting on causes you to laugh, pausing slicing the sandwich. You turn your head to look at him behind you, and he's chuckling to himself while scrolling. You shake your head with far too fond exasperation and return to assembling the sandwich.

Portland

It's about to be Robbers, so that means you're knelt in front of Matty as he stands on the side table, leant down towards you.

His eyes catch something on your forehead and he drags his thumb across it, slightly scraping. There’s blood on his finger now, some your makeup artist must have missed in the hasty clean up you endure each night after Inside Your Mind. 

He raises his thumb and takes it in his mouth, a cocky grin on his face as he sucks it clean. You’re stomach churns as you watch him, entranced. Does he know exactly how much power he has over you? The reaction each of these intrepid moves causes within you?

Your choreography is about to start, usually punctuated with Matty taking a drag from the cigarette before placing it in your mouth to stub out afterwards. He takes a drag slowly and begins to leans in towards you, startling you slightly out of the rhythm you usually fall into. The brazen grin on his face tells you what he wants. You were surprised it took him this long after finding out you actually smoke, really. You meet him half-way, and inhale as he breathes out the smoke into your mouth, covetous and desperate. 

The audience is cheering, as they always seem to be whenever the two of you are doing something that you know will make the rounds on Twitter later. He hands you the cigarette, presumably to stub out as you do. Instead, you breathe in, reach your hand up to grab his hair, and shotgun him right back. His eyes are sparkling as the smoke tangles between the two of you, mouths grinning and lips touching. 

You stub the cigarette out on the table leg, and the choreography begins.

Seattle

You’ve been writing more poems than ever, your book overflowing with ideas and lyrics. No matter what you try to write about, it always ends up being about him.

It’s even worse when he takes them and completes them. He takes your words about him and gives them far more grace, more talent than you ever could, and turns them into things of beauty. Will he ever realize all that beauty is just silhouettes of him?

He's sat across from you in the green room, plucking a melody on the guitar. You're rifling through your journal, trying to find another half-finished poem that isn't completely glaringly obvious about its subject matter.

"Here, uh, how's this one?" He looks up at you, and takes the book out of your hands.

Last night I broke from old  and told a friend the truth that I've got one foot out I've called it bad and I colored it blue

But it's a beautiful life to be in your hands one step out of the light under your command

I'm in my modern world  tribute living man  I've got my one foot out  when I do my modern dance I am in your hands I am in your hands I am in your hands

He smiles down at the page, laughing softly to himself. 

"What?" you ask, slightly alarmed.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "This is fuckin' amazing. And I've already got a few ideas and stuff that might work saved, come here."

He pulls out his phone and opens voice memos, playing one called lead vocal idea 3. 

"Gonna have to change this for the syllables and phrases, obviously. But how does something like this sound for the first bit?"

It's a simple, repetitive melody. When you imagine it lined up to each of the lines, it's perfect. You tell him so, and his face lights up. "Let's try and figure it out then, yeah?"

Fort Lauderdale 

You never talk about what you do during the shows. 

No one in the band had questioned why Matty always buys your drinks, but you’ve caught Polly giving you an odd look once or twice. You don't pay it too much mind.

Matty gets bolder, and you get just as bold in return.

He moans into your mouth when he kisses you. You run your hands up his sides when he leaves his shirt untucked, which he has done every single show since you first did it. He lets your head loll limply before pulling your hair harder, puppeteering you how he wants to. Like you're a doll for him to play with. 

You scatter kisses along his jawline after All I Need to Hear. His stubble itches against your skin. When you're feeling particularly bold, you nip gently at his skin, eagerly welcoming his groans. When he kisses your hand, he places kisses on each of the knuckles before placing it on his cheek for you to hold. You touch your finger to his nose as he does this, and it makes him smile, brown eyes crinkling. He drags his thumb across your lips when you're knelt in front of him, and a cheshire cat smile dawns his face when you swipe your tongue across it. 

After the show, you'll talk about the crowd, about something funny that George said in the in-ears that made you almost break. But you never talk about the rest. It goes unsaid, unacknowledged. The blatantly obvious escalating passion that you pray is reciprocated due to  a feeling similar to yours.

You fear the bubble you've built for yourselves will break if you prod it. So you don't say a word, and you take what he gives you. 

Denver   "Do you wanna know the original reason I came up with the show?" 

You're lying on Matty's hotel room bed with your feet to the pillows, head dangling off the edge. He's lying on the floor beneath you, out of your sight. You see his hand reach up to pass you the joint, and you accept it gratefully, movements languid. 

"Hmm?" you ask, not hearing him completely.

"The uh, the original reason. Of the show, why I made the show."

"What, you wanted to make a meta reinvention of the stage show, filled with meta ideas and subvert the audiences ideas of meta-" you say in a voice, mocking his northern accent.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Matty loves saying meta, real creative." He hiccups before continuing. 

"It was because, uh, George and I, uh..." he starts laughing, unable to finish the sentence.

You turn to face him, stealing the spliff out of his hands to take another hit. "You and George..." you gesture for him to finish with it in your hands.

He's laughing through the sentence, rubbing his forehead. "Venues only let you smoke if its part of a theatrical performance."

"Huh?" Your hazy mind doesn't put it together.

"They wouldn't let us smoke on stage unless it was a part of a theatrical performance. So voila, theatrical performance." He grins, proud, as he points at the two of you.

"You knob! You wrote this entire show solely because you couldn't go two hours without a smoke?" You reach with your free hand, hitting him as your roll over to face him on the floor.

"Well not solely that, Jesus! That was just what inspired me to write a show. And I think that worked out pretty well, did it not?" He's cheeky, smiling proud as he takes another hit.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh as you move your head up and nestle into the bed, ready to fall asleep as your intoxicated mind clouds your best judgement.

"I do try."

The smoke alarm starts buzzing. "Oh, shit!"

You can't help but laugh at him as he tries to fan smoke away from the small detector, beeping incessantly. "Fuck!" he yells, but you just laugh louder into the bed.

Independence

"So you'll be on the settee now, not the lounger. And Robbers is in At Their Very Best, not Being Funny. And when All I Need to Hear finishes, you'll freeze there instead."

"Every iteration of this show is just a test of my ability to stay still while you prance around the stage, then?"

"Prance?!"

You should have known based on everything about Matty that he wouldn't be satisfied keeping the show the same for long. He briefed you earlier in the day about the changes he wanted to try, and you did a quick run through with the crew to ensure they were prepared. Matty told you he was writing a follow-up show to the current one, and wanted to try incorporating some of the ideas into the current set-up.

You're sat comfortably on the settee, knees pulled up and feet tucked up to the side. You're still with a demure smile cast on your face, finishing your act in this position rather than looking up at him knelt in front of the table. There is a new classical piece playing over the sound system, one you don't recognize.

He goes through the panicked motions he usually does, attempting to wake you by shaking your shoulders and lightly hitting your cheek repeatedly. It's harder to stay still when directly focusing the audience as you are now, their motions and screams adding an extra challenge to keeping your gaze fixed at an invisible point.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Matty near the mic stand lighting a cigarette. He begins to anxiously stumble across the stage, frequently turning to you. He's concerningly good at acting drunk, and you're reminded of the post wondering if he truly is that drunk. He takes a sip out of a bottle that is placed on the piano, and walks to sit on the couch beside you. 

He takes a few drags, and begins to cry with his head in his hands. You can't help but think of the fact that there are definitely several confused parents in the audience as a result of this scene: classical music overturing Matty as he sobs into his hand and chainsmokes while a woman they have never seen before sits frozen smiling beside him. At least after the first show, the parents might have been briefed on the oddities of this performance the two of you put on. Matty changing elements removes all that. The thought of these traumatized and perplexed parents so nearly makes you laugh that you have to take a deep breath to prevent it from escaping, forcing the smile down your throat.

Matty keeps turning his head to look at you, crying even further. He then proceeds to sit on the ground in front of you and embrace your legs, weeping into the hug. You can feel his warm breath against your shins, shaking with put-on sobs. He stays this way for a moment before calming his cries and looking up at you, taking a drag of the cigarette in the process. He then sits back up on the settee beside you, watching you all the while. He reaches out and plays with your hair, twirling locks and running his fingers through it. It's more comforting than the pulls earlier in the show, the ones that send warmth through your body and shivers down your spine. His hand travels to your neck and begins to prod it rather aggressively with his fingers, making weird movements as they travel up to your chin.

He rubs his face one final time, and abandons you on the couch to sit in front of the television stack. Only a few more minutes of being still. You're able to blink, but your eyes hurt from the focus. In the corner of your eye, you see Matty begin to do twenty press-ups, all-the-while watching the news footage interspersed with videos of the two of you from previous shows. He finally crawls into the television, and the lights go out. You exit quickly as regularly, steps echoing in the momentary silence.

Chicago

"I feel like Ferris Bueller."

You turn your head to see Matty beside you. He's staring at the painting, the museum map folded in his hands.

"It's Cameron in front of this one, actually," you remark, cheeky.

"Oh, piss off." You chuckle.

You're stood in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, as you have been for nearly ten minutes. You've analyzed every speck of the painting, but you can't bring yourself to leave it just yet.

"You know, Nighthawks is just around the corner," his head turns in the direction as he speaks, "if you want to go see it."

"I'm alright here, but thank you," you smile warmly at him before continuing. "I saw Sunday in the Park with George on the West End as kid, and I've been wanting to this ever since. It feels so much larger in person, even having seen it in Ferris Bueller and all."

"Art always manages to surprise you."

"That's very wise."

"Indeed." You can hear the smile in his voice.

"I usually squeeze a few group museums trips on each tour, actually," he continues. "Nice peaceful day off with everyone."

"This one been good so far?" you ask him.

"Oh, the best." You hold his gaze for a moment before returning to the painting, the butterflies he always conjures in your stomach unable to bear it any longer. You stand in silence with him, staring at the painting. You sneak glances at him when he's not looking as if he’s another one of the works of art strung along the galleries walls.

Milwaukee

You walk towards the green room, ready to tell Matty and George they are needed on stage before the sounds of an argument stops you in your tracks.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt, mate!"

"No one will be, I swear. I know what I'm doing, I promise."

"Well, good, then. You need to be careful about not hurting her-"

"George. It'll be alright. Okay? I'll figure it out."

There's a slight lull, and you take the time to knock and push the door open. Their heads turn to you, Matty's eyes wide before washing over with a still expression

"Hey, uh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything, we're needed on stage."

"Not interrupting anything, love. C'mon." He walks assuredly past you into the hallway and towards the stage. George flashes you a soft smile, but you can see there's something behind it.

You look at them nervously as they walk ahead of you, mind racing as you try to put an explanation to the conversation you walked into that clearly they did not want you to hear. You forget about it by the time the show is over, the moment washing away with the day.

Toronto

"I won't lie, I'm not a huge fan of this." 

You're standing on the glass floor of the CN Tower. You haven't been up here since you visited your uni friend over the holidays a few years back, and when you realize the whole band had never visited you promptly commandeered the day off planning. 

You remove your eyes from gazing at the aquarium below to see Matty, standing at the edge of the glass. His toes barely touch it, refusing to step onto the clear portion of ground you are traversing.

"Somebody's scared," you childishly tease him, overjoyed at this exposed weakness. 

"I'm not scared, I just don't particularly enjoy being reminded that if there are any structural disintegrities in this massive pole that this is my route out."

"Nah, he's bloody terrified of heights," Ross tosses from nearby, staring out at Lake Ontario.

"It seems I have lost all of my kind, loving, friends, whatever has happened to them?" Matty asks theatrically, turning around as if to search. He's caught up enough by what he's saying that he doesn't see George approach from the side, who quickly grabs him and pulls him onto the glass floor.

"You fuckwit! What is your problem!" Matty yells to George as he hastily runs back to the covered floor. You and George are practically dying of laughter, and it's only egged on by Matty's unimpressed expression.

Minneapolis

The text notification from Matty drops down from the top of your screen, pulling you away from mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. You roll over to your side in your bunk and open the message.

Last night I finally slept Next to somebody true She's worthy of your faith I felt you in her hands I saw you when she moved

God, it's a beautiful life To live for somebody gone One step out of the fight One dream into the storm

Your eyes scan over the words, and you type out a quick ? in response. He messages back instantaneously, rapid-fire.

A second verse

For I am in your hands. 

And then I think it could lead back into the chorus

What do you think

You pull the curtain back from your bunk to find his curtain already open, staring at you. You go back to typing, looking up at him when you finish.

It's perfect

I love how you modified some of the lines slightly in the second part

You look back up and he's got a grin on his face, clearly pleased with your approval. You look back down to type some more, thumbs flying across the screen.

I was also thinking maybe after each line in the chrous it's followed by a bv of I am in your hands

Like 

But I'm in my modern world (I am in your hands)

And so on

You look back up at him and he's nodding his head to an inaudible tune, clearly singing out your suggestions in his head. He returns to the screen to write you another message.

I love that

You're a proper songwriter now love

You look back up at him with a small smile, lips pursed. You hope the light of your phone doesn't illuminate the blush on your cheeks, always appearing so easily when it comes to him.

Newport

The rush of cold air stings your skin. You need to get away from the dance floor, the far-too-bright flashes of the club lights, the music pounding so loud it hurts to hear. Everything is too much. 

You're losing control of your breathing, gasping for air. The back door finally slams closed, the sound scaring you. You lean against the brick wall and it itches against your skin.

Your legs can't hold you up anymore, and you slid down to the asphalt, burning your exposed shoulders along the way. Tears spring from your eyes, and you loose further control of your breathing.

The alcohol is making you feel completely out of control of the situation, floating above your body as the streetlights smear together into a blur. You're losing grip on what's happening, and it only furthers the panic attack you've finally recognized is happening..

You throw your head against your knees that are tucked up to your face, crying and trying to breathe. You were worried this would happen eventually at one of these nights out. You're no stranger to having to tuck yourself into a corner while you name five things you can see, four things you can touch. The alcohol always makes them worse.

You only feel more overwhelmed and scared as your intoxicated mind continues to spin, unable to function the way you need it to in order to calm down. Your breaths are ragged, heaving sobs echoing through the back area outside of the club that you've found yourself in.

The pounding slam of the door swinging open hardly registers in your mind, and you only realize someone else is out there with you when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, come here, look at me." It's Matty.

You slowly look up, raising your head a herculean feat. He's crouched in front of you, eyes alight with concern. His mouth is parted, and both his hands are now gripped on your shoulders. Your breaths begin to increase rapidly, so far out of your control.

"Matty, I-I-I can't, I-" you're gasping for air, unable to get any sentence out. You're so overwhelmed you can't help but cry more, heaving and shaking. Worry stains across his face.

"Shh, shh, don't worry about talking, just sit with me. Here." he maneuvers to be sat beside you, and pulls your head against his shoulder. He takes your hand from the pavement and weaves his hand into it. You immediately begin to squeeze his hand, and he hums in encouragement. 

You don't know how long you sit there, squeezing his hand and matching his breaths until yours calm, your grip on the world returns. The booming of the club music is audible against your back, but all you can hear is Matty's breaths, deep and steady.

Pittsburgh

You're knelt on the ground, sat back and knees digging against the carpet. He's above you, painstakingly recreating the Robbers video as you do each night. Matty doesn't stray from the script in this song, so you're careful to follow his lead.

He sticks his hands out sideways in the air, and leans down as scripted to kiss you. But this time, he weaves his hand into your hair just as he does earlier in the show. His deviation spurs you on, and you reach up to place one hand against his cheek.

He smashes his lips against yours, violent and wanting. The passion is practically tangible, dancing through your body, sparkling from your fingertips until the carpet lights aflame. It's never like this in this song. It's never like this with anyone else.

His hand is still in your hair, a feeling nowhere near foreign this far into the tour. When he begins to tug, you're not exactly unused to the sensation. But he's never done it now. Not in the song he's so stringent with, timing each action to the video by the syllable. The surprise mixing with the pleasure racing through you concentrates itself into a moan, gasping into his mouth uncontrollably.

You can't help yourself. You've never been more glad to not be mic'd up, the sound a secret between only you and him. You've never done that, lost control to the extent you are now. He pulls back from the kiss, slightly late for his cue. His mouth is slightly open, eyes predatorily down on you. His lips curl into an open-mouthed smile, tongue pressed against his teeth. 

He sings the rest of the verse with the hand still in your hair, unscripted and unfathomable. It occasionally pulls, moving your head slightly. He's never been this brazen. Maybe the audience, unfamiliar with the show, is wondering why the choreography looks the same as one of the last songs. You can't begin to care about their possible confusion. All you want is him, breaking the last piece of the show that remained untouched by the desire coursing through the two of you. You have to assume it's in him as well as yourself. Any other explanation would break you. So you connect the dots, create the picture in your mind, matching the enormity of his desire to yours. You pray you aren't imagining any of it, creating a full painting out of just a few pigments of colour. All you can do is paint and paint, a blood-stained, half-finished image of passion. 

—

a/n: new song is i am in your hands by bleachers! let me know what yall thinkkkkk

[kpop---scenarios]

Monster (2)

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Felix

Genre: Mafia, Arranged Marriage

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of blood etc

Word Count: 3k

Taglist: @gloriajovicc @bluebeard67 @stephanieeeyang @mouseyboo @stayatinykatsy @thicccurls @thecutiepieme @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @kayleefriedchicken @msauthor @chloe-elise-2000

One |

“Are you sure you're okay?” Chan asks, glancing back to where your supposed boyfriend had previously stood. You watched as he walked off with his partner, part of you now felt like there was more to the story, but you weren't going to admit that right now.

“Yeah I'm fine.” You smile. “But I do think I'm going to go. Thank you both for a wonderful night, let's do it again.” You smile. You move out of the booth as fast as you can, trying to get away before either of them can say anything to you. Even if Seojoon and you weren't in the best place in your relationship, why was he lying to you about where he was? If he had told you he wanted to go out with some coworkers, you wouldn't have cared.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool air hitting you in the face, your body cooled down immensely. You hadn't realized how hot you had felt, from being flustered with Seojoon or from being around Felix and Chan - you weren't sure. You pull out your phone, clicking your boyfriend's contact, you place the phone up to your ear as you walk to the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab.

The phone continues to ring, and ring and ring. Once you get into your cab, you hang up the call, telling the driver your address to take you home. You enter your shared apartment and the feeling of loneliness consumes you. The quietness is so fucking loud, you can feel it in your heart. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember a good memory here you had with Seojoon, something, anything but no matter how much you tried, all your happy memories were things you did here alone, or times that you were alone here which was more often than not, and you didn't mind it. Which should say something. That night you laid in your bed, trying to dream about your boyfriend, but found yourself dreaming about two other men instead.

In the morning you woke up to the sounds of dishes banging in the kitchen. You got out of bed, walked to the kitchen rubbing your eyes, you saw your boyfriend, shirtless, flour and other ingredients all over the counter and breakfast cooking on the stove.

“What's this?” You ask, rubbing your eyes.

“Good morning.” He smiles. “I'm making breakfast.”

“I can see that.” You chuckle. “But why?” You ask. Seojoon stares at you, almost like he's trying to study your face to see what you know. Did he see you last night?

“I can't make breakfast for my girlfriend?” He asks, turning back to the stove.

“You can, you just never have. So I'm a little confused.” You say. You weren't lying and he knew that.

“What did you get up to last night?” He asks, completely avoiding answering your question.

“I went to the club with some new friends.” You told him. “Was work very busy last night?” You ask.

“Yeah it was. But we had some down time, so I went for dinner with the guys. Other than that it was pretty uneventful.. same old, same old.” He says. “Who are your new friends?”

You watch him bring his coffee cup up to his lips. His eyes are watching you intensely. “Bang Chan and Lee Felix.” You say. Seojoon chokes on his coffee, spitting some out while he coughs on the rest. He sets down his cup as he tries to catch his breath but you don't move. That was a weird reaction to the names, it made the wheels in your head spin.

“W..wrong..tube.” He gasps, practically coughing up a lung.

“I hate when that happens.” you sigh. “Do you know them?” You ask.

“No, no, how would I know them?” He awkwardly laughs. “How did you meet them?” He wonders.

“At my dad's party.” You say.

He nods his head. “Did you have fun? You know, I don't think I've ever met your friends before.” He smiles. “We should change that.”

“This change is weird and sudden.” You whisper.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I was going to talk to you today. About how alone in this relationship I feel. And how I feel like you're lying to me about something.”

Seojoon looks at you, with a look you don't quite understand before he smiles widely, placing his hands on your arms before he plants a kiss on your forehead. “You worry too much. What are these friends of yours filling your head with?” He laughs. “I definitely need to meet them now to set them straight.” He laughs again. The most forced, and fake laugh that you had ever heard. He goes back to the stove, finishing making breakfast for the two of you.

You ate a little bit before, heading to the bathroom to shower. You weren't sure what the fuck was going on, but something felt so off but you indulged this new Seojoon. You weren't about to tell him no when he's becoming interested in certain aspects of your life because he's never done this before. Which is how you ended up sitting in a pub next to Seojoon, a drink in front of each of you as you waited for Chan and Felix to show up. When you had called the two of them to ask if they would meet with the two of you, they laughed so hard through the phone you were about to hang up on them, until they agreed, without you having to convince either of them to do it.

“Hi beautiful.” Chan says as he walks up to the table, smiling at you.

“You look stunning.” Felix grins, giving you a sly little wink. You glanced over at Seojoon, who looked unfazed by the nicknames from the two men across from you guys.

“You must be Seojoon.” Chan says, glaring at him. Felix didn't say a word, just stared at him, while Seojoon smiled widely.

“Nice to meet you two. You must be.. Bang chan.” He says, pointing to Chan. “And you Lee Felix.”

“You're right.” Felix says. “Good job.”

Silence around the table consumes you, making you feel so uncomfortable. You looked between the three men, Seojoon's eyes darting between Felix and Chan, Felix and Chan glaring hard at Seojoon and you sat there for a second, before the waitress walked by.

“Excuse me!” You yell. “I'm sorry, could we get some shots.. please.” You ask, begging her with your eyes. She looks around the table, feeling the tension between everyone.

“So.” You smile. “What are you guys doing tonight?” You ask Felix and Chan. They turn to look at you, smiling.

“We're actually going to your fathers house.” They announce. You look shocked. You had no idea anything was happening tonight.

“Oh? What's going on?” You ask.

“Just a late dinner, that's all. I told your dad I was seeing you this evening, and he told me to extend the invitation.. to you.” Chan explains.

Seojoon looks down at his phone before back up at you. “I gotta go to work.” He sighs. “I'm sorry..you.” He says. “You two.. make sure you take care of my girl.” He says, another forced laugh before he kisses your forehead. He slides out of the booth, walking away and out of the pub.

Chan and Felix both burst into laughter as soon as he's out of view. “Never, and I mean never, ask me to hangout with him again.” Felix laughs.

“I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable sitting with a cop before.” Chan chuckles.

“He's not a cop, you guys.” You groan.

“Why does he walk like that?” Felix asks. “Cause he's a cop.”

“Why does he talk like that?” Chan asks. “Cause he's a cop.”

“Oh my god, would you two..” before you can finish, your waitress comes with your shots. You quickly take yours and Seojoon's before heading to your fathers.

Later that night, when you got home, Seojoon was already home, in bed and asleep. You were surprised, usually when he was called away it was at least a day before you saw him again. You quietly undressed yourself, got into your pj's and crawled into bed. You dozed off quickly to the faint sound of Seojoon snoring beside you. It didn't feel like you'd been asleep long enough when you're woken up to the sound of Seojoon answering his phone. You looked at your phone, it was 3:45 in the morning. Who the hell was calling him so early? As you tried to fall back asleep, you listened to him speak, only catching a few words here and there.

“Yes. YES.” He whispers. “Bang Chan.. Lee Felix.. big...us.”

Us. you think. A big what for us? And who is us? Why were Felix and Chan so important to him? You squeeze your eyes closed as you hear him try to quietly shuffle back into the room, crawling back into bed, falling asleep quickly, while you lay awake, thinking.

The next morning, Seojoon had gone to work before you had even woken up, like usual. You knew there was something going on with him, but you couldn't quite figure out what. Felix and Chan were still convinced he was a cop, but no, you didn't think he was able to pull that off. Later in the day, you called him, wanting to see if you could catch him in another lie.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” You begin. “Are you gonna be late today?” You ask. “I saw the big pile up on the news, how fucking awful. Are you working that accident?”

“Oh hi, um, yeah, I'm here now. It's so bad, babe. Like so bad. I probably won't be back until tomorrow, maybe the next day if I need to work extra. I'll call you, Kay? Oh gotta go.” He says, hanging up the call.

“That lying piece of fucking shit!” You scream. There was no pile up. You made it up to see what he would say and he fell right into the trap. You dial a different number this time, needing someone to talk to. “Hey. Are you guys busy?”

“You're sure?” Felix asks, glancing at Chan.

“What else could it be?” You sigh. “He's cheating on me.” You pout, taking a sip of your cocktail.

“He's a..” Chan begins.

“Stop it. He's not. There's no way. Look, I called him and asked him if he was working a pile up and he straight up lied to me about it.” You say. “I bet if I call him right now, he either won't answer or it'll be some other bullshit he spews.”

“Call him.” Felix says, gesturing to your phone. You finish your drink before dialing his number. Putting your phone on speaker and setting it on the table as you let it ring.

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Hello?”

Your eyes go wide, staring at both men, who stare back at you. It was a woman's voice. A woman's voice that you did not recognize. Your hand had never moved so fast to end a call before. Your screen goes black, with you sitting in silence, Felix and Chan unsure of what to say to you.

“I guess that's that.” You say. “Honestly, I thought I would have been sadder.” You chuckle. Truly, you felt fine, you almost felt a sense of relief. Like you finally had a reason to end things. You'd be able to get your apartment back, after he moved in sort of spur of the moment, with no discussion with you about it. A few months into dating, he came over with a whole bunch of shit, talking about how his lease expired and he thought it would be so fun to surprise you. A surprise was an understatement, that was for sure.

“You sure you're okay?” Chan asks, grabbing your arm as the three of you walk out of the bar.

“I'm completely fine.” You smile. “You guys go, I know you said you had some stuff to do.” You say, waving them off. You went home, seeing Seojoon there already, fast asleep, again. Could he not keep his lies straight? He wasn't even supposed to be home and frankly you didn't want to sleep next to a cheater, so that night you got changed and went to sleep on the couch, which only lasted a few hours before a continuous knocking on your front door woke you up.

“Y/N..” you hear from outside the door. “Fuck. Y/N!”

You pull the door open, seeing Chan, hunched over, his arm wrapped around his stomach. “What the hell?” You gasp. He stands up as much as he can, looking at you as your eyes trail his body. You can see the blood seeping through his fingers. “What happened?” You whisper, pulling him inside. You pull him to the bathroom, checking on Seojoon before you quietly close the door.

“Felix and I had some stuff to handle, the guy fucking stabbed me.” He grunts. You dig through your drawers, finding your first aid kit. You always had at least some medical supplies on hand, just in case. This wasn't the first time you needed to sew someone's wound.

“Where's Felix?” You ask.

“He got out of there, they got me as I was trying to take off. I remembered you lived around here. I'm sorry.” He says.

“I'm glad you came.” You smile. You help Chan to sit on the counter before you get your needle and thread out. “I'm just gonna..” you pause, your fingers lifting the hem of his shirt. Chan leans back as much as he can, you lift his shirt, revealing an extremely nice set of abs.

“Wow.” You whisper, closing your mouth to stop you from drooling. You can see Chan smirking from the corner of your eye as you grab disinfectant spray. “This is probably gonna sting.” You warn.

“Just do it.” He says through gritted teeth. You spray his wound, Chan opens his mouth to yell but nothing comes out. The silent yelling as he squeezes his eyes shut. Once you're done, you start getting your other things ready, warning him that this is also gonna hurt.

“Believe me, not my first time getting stitched with no numbing.” He chuckles.

“Luckily for you, not my first time stitching without numbing.” You grin. You start sewing him up, and his eyes never leave you. He watches you with such intent, how you concentrate on your work. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched you.

“Oh fuck.” He hisses, one spot a little more tender than the others.

You can hear Seojoon stir in the other room. You stop, waiting, listening.

“Y/N?” You hear a groggy Seojoon call out. You quickly stand up, dropping the needle as you press yourself against Chan, covering his mouth with your hand.

“I'm just in the bathroom.” You yell out.

“Ah, okay.” He yawns. “You okay? I thought I heard another voice?”

“That was my phone.” You say back. Chan's stare burns into your face as you wait to listen for Seojoon to shuffle back to bed. Your body pressed against his, felt so good, he completely forgot about his stab wound. Once you're confident that Seojoon has gone back to bed, you move your hand from Chan's mouth, taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry.. I just..” you start as you back away. Chan grabs your wrist, pulling you back towards him. “What are you doing?” You whisper.

“Do you have any idea how bad I fucking want you?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. Your breath hitches.

His phone rings, he lets go of your wrist, answering it quickly. “Felix? Yeah, okay. I'm on my way.”

“Sorry princess, I gotta go.” He says, grunting as he gets off the counter.

“I'm not done.” You whisper. The world is spinning. He made your fucking head spin.

“It's good enough. Thank you.” He whispers, pling his shirt down. You put your supplies away, open the door and immediately hear Seojoon snoring. You usher Chan out the door, opening the front for him. “Is Felix okay?” You ask as he turns to go.

“Don't worry about him, or me. We're both gonna be just fine.” He winks, walking down the hallway and out of view.

In the morning, you wake up on the couch to Seojoon sitting in the chair next to you.

“Morning.” He smiles.

“Don't.” You sigh, getting up.

“What did I do?” He chuckles.

“Are you cheating on me?” You ask. He looks stunned, shocked and panicked.

“W-what? Me? No?”

“Something is going on, either you tell me now or I'm fucking done.” you spit.

“Babe..” He chuckles. “You're being delusional.”

“Get out.” You yell. “I'm done. This is done.” You say.

“Y/N.” He pleads. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Do I? You've never told me. Go ahead.” You say, crossing your arms, waiting for what he was going to say.

“I.. you know. I lo..” he mumbles. “We've been together for so long. You know how I feel.”

“No. I don't. I honestly don't think you've ever told me that you've loved me. I've told you plenty. I've always been clear to you about my feelings, but you can't even give me the decency of saying it once to save the relationship.” You scoff. “I'm done. Get out. We're over. “ You spit. “You have an hour to pack your shit.”

You go to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you. You run a bath, sit and scroll through your phone for an hour. You really fucking hoped he would be gone by the time you got out. And thankfully, he was. Your place was quiet, and you felt like you could breathe. But you also felt hurt. Why didn't he fight harder for you? Why did he give up so easily? Weren't you worth more?

You pulled out your phone, calling the two people who had become the closest people to you in your life.

“I did it.” You breathe. “I'm single.” You laugh.

“That's cause for celebration!” Felix exclaims.

“Get ready. We'll be there at 10 to pick you up.” Chan laughs. You were thankful for them, and how in the short time you'd known them they were always there for you. Little did you know, sooner rather than later, you'd need them even more.

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Kirishima Eijirou's Route

⋆ PAIRING: jpop.member!kirishima x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: kidnapping ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1020

A/N: omg the first written story mode i’ve ever done! initially i was going to make this part like the regular story modes but i realized i think it would be executed better if i wrote it out instead. for other longer story modes like this, they will also be written out in the future for kaminari, sero, bakugou, and izuku’s routes!

NOTE: the kirishima cap is from @eraserhead-transparents. this part is inspired by the reader story mode in day 10 of zen’s route.

Mystic Academia: Kirishima Eijirou's Route Masterlist

Everything felt hazy the minute you opened your eyes. Your vision was blurry, only for a moment as your eyes fluttered open. Looking around you, you sighed a breath of momentary relief. You were back at the office, your new home. Perhaps everything that had happened was a dream, or a nightmare rather, and you were finally back home in your apartment.

That sentiment was immediately eradicated the minute you realized you were tied to a chair with your arms pinned back and around the chair. It was very much not a dream.

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” an unfamiliar voice greets you. A man dressed in all black walks from behind you and stands before you. He had a black face mask covering his face and the hood from his jacket covering his head. The only feature you could discern were his piercing crimson eyes. 

You could feel your whole body shivering in fear. The last thing you remembered was waiting to watch Kirishima’s conference when this Unknown person broke into Kirishima’s apartment. Who knew you’d have to have security guarding the balcony door as well…

“If you’re wondering how I brought you here, I simply used a chloroform rag to knock you out. Then I just dragged your body here.” You could hear the smile in his voice as well as on his face, despite it being half-covered, as his eyes crinkled up. He spoke so nonchalantly about doing such revolting things to you.

“What do you want?” You mustered up the courage to question him. You hated how shaken your voice was and despite wanting to seem strong, it was hard to do so when a strange man had been stalking you and finally found you only to hold you hostage in your own home. 

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you. I’m just a pawn and I will do whatever it takes to help my master carry out their dream.”

He started pacing around your room, looking around at the things you had moved in with you. You had paperwork all over your desk as the party was just two days away and you were still working on inviting guests to the event. 

“You see, you’re just a pawn, Y/N.” You shivered at his utterance of your name. “We don’t have any issues with you personally. In fact, I was ordered to lead you to this place to help take down those five imbeciles.”

Five imbeciles… He was referring to Bakugou, Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima… He most likely left Deku out due to his absence from the group.

“Just leave them alone. What could they have possibly done to deserve anything?” You could feel yourself getting angry for your new friends. Despite only meeting them almost a week ago, you could tell they were all genuine, including Deku. I mean, who hosts events for charity if they weren’t good?

Unknown bursted out into a fit of laughter. It was an unpleasant sound. He approached you once again and if it weren’t for your being tied to a chair, you would’ve attempted to move as far away from him as physically possible. He crouched down in front of you, bringing his hand up to pat your head. “Don’t you worry. As long as you don’t fight back, everything will be fine. After all, I was ordered to bring you back alive.”

Just as you were realizing the severity of the situation, the doorbell ringing ripped you away from your fears. Several pounding knocks on the door followed.

Unknown chuckled, standing to his feet. “That must be Sero Hanta. Since he’s the only one who knows where this place is.”

“Help!” You screeched. 

Several beeps could be heard on the opposite side of the door, indicating that someone knew the password and was entering it. The door swung open and, to your surprise, revealed Kirishima, who was out of breath and his leg was free from the boot you remember he still had on that morning.

Kirishima’s scarlet eyes scanned the room briefly as they stayed focused on you. “Let Y/N go!”

Just as Kirishima attempted to move towards Unknown, he swiftly removed the rope tying you down to the chair. Unknown grabbed you by your collar, forcing you to your feet as you felt the cool metal blade of a knife to your throat. 

Kirishima stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. “You take another step and I can’t promise you Y/N will be unharmed,” Unknown threatened in a low voice.

Kirishima’s hands balled up into fists at his sides as he felt powerless. “What the hell do you want?!”

Unknown shrugged. “I’ve just been ordered to take Y/N with me.”

“Yeah? Over my dead body will I ever let you take her away!” Kirishima’s voice was strained out of the pure rage he was feeling. You felt tears threatening to spill out as you were doing your best to keep it together. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Kirishima Eijirou. Eventually you and the rest of MFA will go with her.” Unknown smiled sinisterly through his mask as his eyes crinkled upwards once again. “You can all have a little family reunion then! How fun!”

You were getting fed up with all of this nonsense. Who was this strange man to impose on your life and think he could do whatever he wanted in the name of following orders? Unknown’s hand was right below your chin and so you bit down as hard as you possibly could, certain that you drew blood. 

Unknown screamed out in pain, dropping the knife to your feet and recoiling back in pain as he fell backwards and held his hand to his chest. You swiftly picked the dropped knife up, spinning around and back towards Kirishima. You held the knife out in front of you, nonverbally threatening Unknown not to take another step towards you.

“You stupid girl,” Unknown grumbled, struggling to get back up to his feet.

Kirishima grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. He took advantage of the slight pause before he screamed, “RUN.”

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[hwaflms]

i'm ngl i was reading happy now but fell asleep midway and had the craziest dream abt jaehyun (...pornstar!jh don't ask, but your thoughts are very welcome, if you'd so graciously provide them 🙏), thank you for this blessing of a fic, i'm gonna go back to finishing it :3

UR SO SWEET??? thank you sm i hope you enjoyed it :(

and omg anon ur on to smth with pornstar!jae i NEED to hear abt ur dream hold on……..,

im thinking about pornstar!jae who knows he’s got a huge cock and acts like it too. no one has ever made a single complaint about working with him because he’s just too good at what he does; he knows just how to use his mouth, knows all the right dirty little things to whisper in her ear, never cums first.

pornstar!jae who catches you watching his latest, and is surprised that innocent little you seems to be enjoying watching him fuck a woman senseless on a kitchen counter, blushing as you keep your volume low at sounds of their pleasure.

pornstar!jae who jerked off to the thought for the first time in a long while, picturing your hand stuffed in your panties while you touched yourself to him, wishing it was you underneath him instead. being the little shit he is, he makes a number of allusions to the incident, driving you mad because you’re not sure whether he knows or not.

pornstar!jae who finally confesses he wants to fuck you in the most casual manner, stroking your bright red cheek with a thumb slowly. you can only imagine his surprise when you shyly ask whether you can make a lil movie out of it, all his thoughts shooting straight down to his cock.

pornstar!jae who has you bent over his balcony railing, drilling into you long and hard, a hand slapped over your mouth to not wake the neighbours. he has your dress bunched up over your breasts, watching them jiggle with each hard thrust, positioning you so you’re facing the lens of the camera. he gives you exactly what you wanted and more, and with each coo of “dirty girl” and each slip of his fingers into your mouth, your moans sound even more pornographic than those of the women he fucked on screen. you’ve already come all over his mouth, but he’s absolutely relentless as he slips a hand around you to rub fast circles on to your throbbing clit.

pornstar!jae who downloads and saves the video on to his ‘favourites’ album, knowing that would be the only thing he’d watch for the next couple months. he knows it would do numbers if he posted it but he wants it to be ‘his special lil secret’, even thought you both know there would be more to come.

[bellaramseysgf]

Bitter & Butter. (B.B)

Warnings; Smut (18+ only), PWP,oral (M receiving) pet names,angry Anthony mixed with a little jealousy,mention of past Bridgerton episodes, food for lube,fingering,kissing + more

Pairing(s); Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader x Johnathan Bridgerton.

Summary; Anthony is getting a little “tired” of Ben’s new girlfriend.

A/n; I haven’t written anything this long in a minute I haven’t written smut in a while either. Keep in mind I’ve never written for Bridgerton so if this seem out of place I’m so sorry!!

Scroll to the end for a surprise!!

Anthony was a very patient man it’s something he prides himself on if he’s honest. He’s had patients when Daphne courted and then married his best friend,when his mother yelled out that he was looking for a wife,when Colin almost married a women he knew was awful for him.

This however,this is starting to truly provoke him in a desperate and disastrous way. Ben had no clue how this was effecting him, more like how you were effecting him.

You.

You and your sweet nature. You and your beautiful smile. You and your perfect hair. You and your irresistible smell. Oh heavens your smell. It filled his every sense,it filled his dreams.

“Please” Anthony spoke taking a deep breath before entering the evening room.

“Anthony! Where have you been hiding?” His mother asked as he entered the room for breakfast. “Apologies for being so late mother” he said kissing the side of her head.

He was begging- pleading in his mind that he had waited long enough.

“Good morning Brother!” He was lucky his back was to Ben and he couldn’t see the way his face tensed, because he knew. He knew where he was you were sure to follow.

He turned and sure enough he was met with you still in your silk night gown sat cuddled up to his brother. “Morning.” He said rather shortly turning back to finish his conversation with his mother.

“Well, I’m off to meet Daphne at the garden.” His mother said leaving the room as she bid farewells to you and Ben as well.

Anthony turned to the table seeing a spread of wonderful food. Fruit,pancakes,bacon,eggs, biscuits,sausage, an array of jams and butters to top things with.

Anthony finally turned back to his brother to ask him about his plans for the day only to see Ben with his tongue down your throat, and his hand practically inside you with how far under your gown it was.

He let out a sigh clasping his hands behind his back “please keep in mind you have young siblings in this house.” He scolded his brother only to be waved off. “Benedict! Act like you have some honor!” He yelled making you jump and pull from his mouth.

Benedict looked to his brother with a roll of his eyes “everyone but you is out of the house. I’m allowed to act how I want with my lady” he huffed raising a brow to his brother.

Benedict grew up beside his brother and while he was definitely clueless sometimes he could tell when his brother was upset….or rather intrigued by a situation.

Ben couldn’t help the smirk that fell to his face when he dipped his head to lick at the sweet spot on your neck his eyes never leaving his brothers.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say someone was jealous” “jealous?!” Anthony raised his brows in shock. You just sat there dazed as the two brothers went back and forth. “Jealous,envious,bitter. You decide how to word it” he bit out at his brother. “Ben!” You scolded hitting his chest.

“Oh do not make a fuss sweet girl! He just wishes to take you so desperately it’s made him stupid” your cheeks turned red “Benedict!” You gasped.

Anthony snapped. He had been a honorable man, kept his dick words to himself this whole time. “Benedict I think you’ve said enough.” He said his eyes narrowed the color somehow darkening.

Your eyes shot to him his tone catching you off guard, he’s never sounded like that ever. You knew he was serious and you couldn’t help the wetness that coated your panties at his tone.

“M-my lord I-” you started stuttering but were quickly cut off by Ben covering your mouth with his hand. “Shush” he warned as Anthony walked up to the pair of you.

“Now, I have been a gentleman and I’ve had patience. However, you,brother, have just exceeded the last of it.” He said.

You don’t know what happened it was like a blur you just know you were jerked from Ben’s hold and gripped to Anthony’s chest.

“Hey! You know I’ll share but she is mine” Ben reached for your leg only to be smacked by Anthony “no. You’ve had her long enough” he glowered his lips beginning to kiss down your neck and to your shoulder.

His hands fiddled under your dress until they found what they wanted. Your cunt. You gasped feeling his fingers sink into you “Anthony-” his fingers were moving in perfect motions. You had never had your orgasm build so fast you squirmed the pleasure coming at you to fast wanting away from it.

“Shh go ahead tell me how good it feels. Tell me how much better than my brother I am” your eyes snapped open practically forgetting your boyfriend was right there.

To your surprise he had his own cock out slowly pumping his hand up and down his shaft. You noticed the small dish of butter had been dipped into he obviously using the melted result for lube.

“Hey, focus on me” Anthony spoke from behind you rudely pressing into that one spot that had you seeing white. You let out a whorish moan and fell back into his grasp. “Oh-” without warning it sent you shooting over the edge. You curled your toes your vision going white as you trembled in Anthony’s arms.

“Atta girl, mhm just like I said. Listen so well for me good girl” his words were already sending your sensitive cunt towards another release.

“Shit, making you cum like that? What a sight” ben added as you dreamily watched him stroked his length. His hand would squeeze harder at his tip. His thumb trailing over his own slit mixing the precum and butter together in a sloppy mess.

Your mouth watered as you watched imagining his delicious looking cock sliding down your throat. Instinctively you leaned forward “where are you going,hmm?” Anthony stated as you ignored him to take your lovers hand away. Ben smirked down at you “see even she knows who she belongs too hmm?” He remarked.

You licked a stripe from his base to his tip loving the salty taste of his pre cum mixed with the melted butter. You quickly took his tip into your mouth making your way to half his length before you choked. Benedict let out a groan and the restricted feeling of your throat.

“Now let’s see if this is worth all the screaming I’ve been hearing.” Anthony said before you felt his tip enter your soaked entrance. His tip made you whimper it was much more bulging than your lovely boyfriends. He worked his way into you slowly his warm hand holding your waist.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes watered the stretch was much more difficult than your other. When he finally stopped his hold reacting against you the both of you sighed. His from pleasure and yours from the stretch finally settling.

“That’s it baby” Benedict called pulling your eyes up to him. You had almost forgotten that his dick still stuffed your mouth. “Don’t worry baby we are gonna take very good care of you sweet girl” Anthony called from behind you.

You don’t truly remember much of what else happened it was still all a blur as you woke up later that day. The sun had now gone away a long time ago the darkness outside had you’s tumbling to find your footing.

When you were finally able to stand you realized you weren’t in your room but rather Anthony’s. The door opened and you jumped moving to hide yourself with the curtains.

“It’s just me love” you sighed hearing Ben’s voice. “Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shook your head the only pain was from your legs which were still uncertain on the ground under them.

“Anthony was worried about you being in pain” you smiled and looked up at your boyfriend. “Is this…have you always done that?” You asked and Ben could t help the laugh that erupted.

“Darling, you were just fucked by 2 of the most powerful people in our town and you’re still embarrassed to say sex?” Your cheeks flared red and you let out a small whine in reply. “No, I’ve never seen him so…angry like that” you raised your brow.

Seems like you still have a lot to learn about these two.

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Cassian - NSFW alphabet - 1,3k followers celebration

Yay, the second one of my 1,3k celebration! 18+! You can read Rhysand's alphabet here.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He always makes sure you're okay and cleaned up. Sometimes he insists on taking a bath together, he likes to wash your hair and give you a massage. I swear he's so sweet after sex <3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's most proud of his arms, because they are very muscular and show those centuries of training. You're looking (almost drooling) at them so much, it resulted in him having a dream where you are riding his biceps. He gets so smug when he sees you watching them. Like when he grabs something or he's sparring or even when he is just readjusting his hair, you're always drooling over the way they flex.

He is obsessed with your ass, this man has his hands on it all the time. In public and in the bedroom. He isn't shy of spanking you when everyone is around. Or just putting his hands on it casually. He also spanks you during sex and he loves groping your ass when he's pounding into you (and you like to grip his ass too, to push him deeper into you).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He goes feral when you let him cum in your mouth. Cassian groans and moans so loud when you suck him dry. It's always too much cum to even fit in your mouth.

Sometimes you play a game where you try to let the other cum as much as possible, the one who gave the other the most orgasms wins (the loser has to massage the winner afterwards).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

One time you called him general when he was fucking you. "Oh yes, please, you feel so good my general". He wouldn't admit it, but to him that was the hottest en filthiest thing he's ever heard from your mouth. He groaned loudly when he heard you say it, his pace picking up, your legs going numb. He doesn't dare to ask you to say it again after that one time, he's so shy about it, but that doesn't stop him from fantasizing about the name when he's on a mission and has his cock in his hands.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced, this male did a lot of sexual stuff already in his long live. Especially when he was young, he discovered a lot back then. Cassian gives me bi vibes, but in a sexual way. Like, he just loves fucking females and males, he doesn't really care, he's just horny lol.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy (because he can grab your hair and stroke your back, he also has the most delicious view on your ass)

He regularly fucks you in a mating press, he can look you passionately in the eyes this way, while also making sure he's deep enough.

When he's sitting ons his knees on the bed and you are straddling him, riding him with his hands supporting your back. His hands help you to go faster by pulling you up and down, hard against his body.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A little but not as much as you would expect from him at first.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Cassian doesn't care that much about what's going on down there, he asks about what you prefer though but if he's going to listen to that, is another question

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is pretty rough but he can also be very intimate. This is the case when you've had multiple rounds already, towards the end it gets a little more romantic and soft. He always starts with fucking you hard en desperate. But at the end, it's all kisses, strokes and making love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He literally has the need to cum every day, but luckily you're here to help him with that. When he's on a mission and you're not there... well... you can expect Cassian leaning against a tree in the woods during his break. Tugging on his cock while thinking about your pretty and soft lips, coming on his hands in the middle of a forest like a wild man.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spanking

Daddy kink or calling him sir/general

When you are in charge he loves bondage (his hands on the headboard this time)

Some breath-play now and then

Dancing!!! Like you giving him a lapdance, so in addition to that:

Dry humping

Degradation kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He enjoys fucking you in the living room of the house of wind. He loves the risk that comes with it. "You dirty girl, you love that, don't you? Getting fucked by me when all your friends could walk in?" he grins. You both get so turned on from the excitement.

Afterwards, when you two are there with the others, you can't help but grin as you see them unknowingly sitting on the places where Cassian has fucked you only moments ago.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Training.

When Cassian sees you on the training fields, Illyrian leathers clinging to your body and cheeks flushed, it turns him on immediately. He can't help but admire how good you look like that, imagining how it would be if you showed him some of those tricks in the bedroom.

But especially when he is the one you are fighting with. He can't help but grab you by the hips and grind into you. "You look so hot when you're training, wanna fuck you right here, right now" he whispers in your ear. It caught you off guard, making him spin you around and pin you to the floor. "I won" he smirks. The stupid son of a bitch.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think he would do almost everything. Maybe he wouldn't like sharing you? Except with Azriel or Rhys.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to give and is focused on letting you come before he does. But when you give him a blow job... He's addicted. It's canon that Cassian loves to throat fuck, so when you give him head he always has his hands in your hair. He especially likes when you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, it's so so sensitive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mostly hard and fast, he needs to let go. Cassian always fucks you with all the force he has in him (and that's a lot). But sometimes he's more soft en sensual. He still fucks you hard, but he does it slowly. Sometimes he prefers it this way because he can see your tits bouncing when he fucks into you like that.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I think Cassian doesn't like quickies, he wants to take his time with you. If there's no other way he doesn't mind, but he doesn't prefer it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes he takes risks!! He fucks you in the training ring and (like i've said) the family living room. When it comes to experimenting he likes to find out more about your dom and sub dynamics. And it turns out, Cassian is a switch. He likes it when you are the dominant one sometimes too.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Since he obviously has a high sex drive, he can go for many round When you are the one in charge, he needs some rest in between rounds! Because he is always so overstimulated and sensitive he literally has tears in his eyes. "Baby, please, one second, 's too much, feels too good" he mumbles whiny.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Well.. when you both found out about strap-ons... Let's say it was a long long night...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Cassian is not that much of a tease but he teases you more outside of the bedroom (still in a sexual way).

"You don't have to stare so much baby"

"Sorry Az, she's a little tired, didn't get much sleep last night"

"Do you always get so flustered around me sweetie?"

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groans so loud. He's also a grunter and very talkative. "You feel this? How hard I am? Just for you baby." or "Make me beg for it".

When you're in charge he definitely whines!!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He thinks it's the hottest thing ever to fuck while fighting/wrestling. So of course, you've done it a few times. It was the hardest he'd ever cum. At first you start spinning around and wrestling, resulting in some dry humping and grinding. Then you ripped each others clothes off and started fighting some more. He fingers you, but you try to get out of his grasp and are successful, because you distract him by stroking his dick teasingly. When you manage to turn him around, you give him a blowjob. At last, he pins you under him and fucks you hard. But... you manage to turn it around and ride him until he cums.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

This man is THICK, not necessarily long. But he stretches you out every time, sometimes it's difficult to get in so he needs to prep you more. His balls are also very big.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is very high, I mean, you can't get a second of rest with him. He's such a horny bastard.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Cassian would have to do his best to not fall asleep afterwards. When he falls asleep after sex, he's in a coma.