#but it was the first time i noticed just how twitchy my hands get

[onebookcharacter]

bad mental health ramble in the tags don't mind me

[riality-check]

Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

[oh-no-its-bird]

Normal 'Izuna survives' au but he gets isekaid into canon founders era and doesn't notice for a week (everyone is convinced he's a ghost)

He literally lives in the same house as Madara but Madara acts like this is normal bc hes been hallucinating so this is clearly just another hallucination

He only realizes smthn is wrong with Tobirama sees him and immediatley goes "what the FUCK" and suddenly everyone is going "oh god you can see him too????"

Izuna is on a quest to convince people he's not a hallucination (it's a losing battle)

Realistically tho, in that era, wouldn't it be more believable that Izuna is a ghost / somehow came back to life than fucking dimension travel?

Cearly the ghost of Izuna just doesn't realize hes died (common enough in ghost lore)

Tobirama is the only one who believes Izuna bc he has the brain cells to think ab dimension travel / time and space jutsu

POV Madara starts to convince Izuna he's actually a ghost. Maybe... he did die? And he just doesn't remember?? Oh god is he a ghost??? Is he dead????

Tobirama is standing by watching this shit happen with a look of disgust on his face (I'm sorry Tobi the stupidity is genetic)

Madara really said gaslight gatekeep girlboss, starting with yourself first

@beatriceportinari :

hashirama is trying to be compassionate and get him to move on and izuna just. stays there (bc he's not a ghost)

hsrm so desolate abt it

tbrm he won't move on 😦 what if he's stuck forever 😦

SORRY IM JUST PICTURING LIKE HASHIRAMA AND MADARA DOING A FULL EXORCISM LIKE OUTFITS AND SAGE BURNING AND HITTING THE DRUMS AND ALL AS IZUNA STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM LIKE 🧍‍♂️

Tobirama is standing nearby watching this shit happen fully aware Izuna isn't dead but no one will listen to him so !!! Might as well watch the show

@fashionredalert :

Izuna standing there like

Tweak it slightly to turn it into a happy ending where they get to keep him bc he eventually has to go back home: there was no dimension travel, for some reason he survived or was revived (zetsu interference gone wrong?? Or right ig, for Izuna)

IT LOOKS LIKE HES WAITING PATIENTLY FOR IT TO WORK PLS

@mengfm :

He fr came back to life/survived but everyone's convinced he's a ghost and are trying to lay him back to rest

The idea of people trying to re bury him is so funny. Left and right he’s trying to avoid having funeral rights just said to him

@beatriceportinari :

PLS YESS

montage where they make him lay down in a coffin and he's just laying there fidgeting like "this feels weird is it working yet"

noooo asdfghjh he's letting them do it'

maybe i should be dead yeah' izuna!!!

@mengfm :

"No I saw you die"

"Ok convincing argument I guess" -Izuna, apparently

@fashionredalert :

I know there’s that trope about the Uchiha burning the bodies with funeral rites could you image…Bro having to run away from Madara trying to burn him alive to lay him to rest again

@mengfm :

IZUNA GET ON THE FUNERAL PYRE

ITS TIME TO BURN!!!

@fashionredalert :

Izuna running through the village with rope ties around his hands as he runs

ZUNA STOP SCREAMING AND LET THE FIRE DO ITS JOB

"IZUNA COME BACK!!"

THEY TRY TO DO IT BUT IZUNA GETS TWITCHY AS THE FLAMES DRAW CLOSER THEN JUMPS OFF THE PIRE

"NO I CHANGED MY MIND"

"THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD"

Madara is chasing Izuna through the streets with a lit torch as Izuna screams about wanting to try a different way and Madara screams about how it'll work if he just STAYS STILL

@instant-bull :

(Hashirama looks out his window and asks Tobirama if he just saw Izuna running through the streets and Tobirama tells him to stop making shit up to get out of work)

@mengfm :

JSDNJNFSDJNSDFKSNDJF HASHIRAMA THIS WON'T SAVE YOU FROM THE PAPERWORK

That’s just a lack of sleep hallucination back to work!!!

@instant-bull :

Madara trying to burn his brother alive isn’t real!

"You'll get used to them" Tobirama waved his hand, the years of insomnia experience making him sound particularly knowledgable

@mengfm

Hashirama’s already moukoton scrambled brain is going to feel even more insane. This is not helping his sanity

@instant-bull

Hashirama starts to believe he sees into some alternate timeline or the past or whatever that shit was

HASHIRAMA ON HIS OWN INSANITY KICK BELIEVING HE CAN SEE INTO ALTERNATE TIMELINES

The ending is literally just Tobirama hitting everyone over the head with a rolled up newspaper and yelling that they're all stupid, going "HES alive. YOURE not hallucinating. and YOU can not see into other dimensions!"

Only sane person in Konoha

(Then in the epilogue he goes home and has his own regular hallucinations of his dead brothers)

Parts of todays AU are brought to u with the help of @instant-bull @mengfm @fashionredalert and @beatriceportinari, everyone say thank you to them

[dairy-farmer]

what about asexual tim? like he’s just not into sex. he doesn’t really see a point with it y’know.

maybe if he’s like, really REALLY stressed he’ll jerk off a bit, maybe.

and what if tim, -who’s seriously into one (or all) of the the rest of the bat and birds (like obsessively into) notices that THEIR stressed, that they are just so busy they haven’t had time for a lay or to sastify themselves.

and he just wants them to relax. and if even HE can relax a bit after jerking off, then it must heavenly for them.

so he offers himself to them. offers them to take what they want, do whatever they want.

maybe most of the time he just can’t get wet, he’s just not into it. but he still wants to help, wants them to feel better

maybe they pulled a muscle, so he gives them a massage ,slowly running his hands down, lower and lower.

just worshipping their body. lets them fuck his mouth. anything to make them feel better.

—————————————

i know a lot of people aren’t comfortable writing smut about a character being ace, so you seriously don’t have to. and sorry if this doesn’t make a lot of sense, i seriously suck at explaining my thoughts or whatever😭

i get it though!!!!! and an ace tim does make a lot of sense! like, personally, he's not very interested in the whole "scene" of sex. he knows its a big hobby of bruce and dick's and plenty of other people but for tim? yeah it just doesn't really...look like it'd be much fun. but that doesn't mean tim isn't fascinated by the aesthetics. he might not jack off to porn and only ever touch himself when he needs a dose of dopamine and oxytocin so he can unclench and relax enough to sleep- but that doesn't mean he doesn't look. he's as curious as any teenager about bodies, why they do things the way they do, why they react. and so sometimes that means he watches just to see how two bodies mesh together, hands grasping for each other, people making little noises and squirming...wetly against one another. it's equal parts interesting as it is sort of gross.

but bruce and dick love it- tim knows that. the two of them are some of the most grounded, focused people tim knows and yet they'll be thrown so off their game by something like sex. tim has had orgasms before and they were alright, pretty nice, and they helped him fall asleep faster, but sex seemed like a different ball game.

but it worked! bruce could go out one night, wound up and full of tension but then he'd come back looser and nicer and more focused and less stressed. same with dick. dick would be twitchy and have a slightly pained look on his face ever while smiling but then he'd go out to fuck someone and come back genuinely happier.

so tim is aware of the effect sex has one them. and he's also tangentially aware of how dick and bruce treat people that they regularly have sex with. how they speak kinder to them, are more patient with them, are nicer, smile at, and trust them to a certain degree.

so maybe tim is also thinking of that when he starts debating how to best help them when another crisis hits the city and they're all trapped either in the cave or running down assists in the city. the worst of the disaster is over and all that's left is picking up the broken parts of the city and putting it back together. but that work is stressful and tim can see how neither dick or bruce are sleeping as often as they should, how they're snapping at tim and each other.

and tim just knows he can help. he can ease the burden.

he can give them what they need to feel better, to be better.

and so he offers, in the only way he knows how, by tapping them for attention while they're one hour into tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep, and whispering his offer.

tim is offering them to take what they need no matter what it may be. tim goes to bruce first because he's the worst of them and bruce is desperate enough that he doesn't even protest.

tim's never had anything in his hole, bruce is the first. he's lucky bruce keeps adult things in his bed side drawer like lube and condoms and pills.

tim knows bruce needs to closeness, the warmth of another body so he says nothing when bruce doesn't tear open a fresh condom and just squirts a thick stream of lubricant onto his cock and onto tim's cunt.

tim makes a face at the cold, wet slimy feeling. it's an unexpected feeling like someone squirting wet sunscreen onto his back.

but it's not bad and even if it was tim wouldn't protests because the point of doing this was to make sure bruce and dick could relax- tim having a good time simply wasn't a factor.

fucking is..weird. not bad, but not good either. it's a lot like when bruce makes tim do stretching exercises, the ones that take hours and where tim is forced to hold his position for several minutes until his muscles are trembling and shaking from the lactic acid build up. bruce rutting into him is a lot like that, tim's muscles are getting stressed and worked up and made achey and into trembling messes but it's...deeper. tim can feel internal muscles clenching and moving, his abdominals keep flexing as he breathes through bruce taking what he needs. bruce is heavy and puts pressure on tim's lungs and him being so close means he's breathing and panting right into tim's face and...well tim's never been the most tactile person so being pressed so close to someone who's sweaty and moving...it's not the most fun thing in the world.

by the end tim's whole body is tired even though he hasn't moved. his thighs are aching like he's run a mile and despite it not being the point, the orgasms bruce fucked out of him leave him shaking and weak. he tries to squeeze his hands into a fist and can't because his energy has been drained.

bruce seems like he enjoyed himself, he's rolled over and breathing fast breaths that are slowing down as his eyes start slipping closed.

the cum dripping out of tim as he gets up he positively does NOT like. it's too much like when tim's on his period just more watery. it's like some gross combination of menstruating and peeing at the same time which tim grimaces at the thought of while an uncontrollable flood of cum falls out of him in droplets onto bruce's sheets.

dick is next and he, much to tim's quiet relief, doesn't ask to fuck tim.

he's nervous and unsure about them doing anything but eventually concedes to tim sucking his cock.

the experience does just about how tim thought it would go.

tim tries his best to make it feels good but the experience leaves much to be desired. dick just tastes like warm skin, slightly salty and odd. tim's tongue twitches and is unsure of what to do. it's not like licking ice cream or lollipops, those are sweet and the sugar encourages someone to keep licking. even the salt licks tim had once gotten curious about and tried had flavor and texture to entice. but a cock is just a big, wide thing that is stuffed in tim's mouth and makes it hard to breath and that he has to be careful not to gag himself on. dick holds tim's head and strokes his cheek and at one point just wants him to suckle on the tip but that's not much better because dick's precum tastes bad. it tastes chemical-y like bleach and something bitter.

tim tries not to make his dislike about it to clear. but dick ends up cumming fast anyway, he holds tim's head still and locked on his cock as he twists his fingers into tim's hair and humps his face with low 'un unh unh' sounds while spilling into tim's mouth.

so sex is not fun. tim very much does not understand the appeal even when dick insists on paying him back and settling his head between tim's thighs.

even though it does feel a little nice tim can't shed the absolute humiliation he feels at dick being pressed between his legs, of his warm, wet tongue pressing against and inside him. it's just so...uncomfortable. anything nice his parts feel is completely overshadowed by how gross it feels. the warmth, the wetness, the stickiness, the thought of dick leaving saliva on his skin. time whines and frantically rubs his cheek whenever dick presses a wet, spit soaked kiss to his skin- was this supposed to be better?

dick looks a little hurt when tim can't take it anymore and pushes him away. but he seems to be pacified when tim lies and says that sucking his cock was enough for tim to feel good and that he's supposed to be something for dick to use to feel good.

at first dick seems soothed and tim is just waiting for him to tuck himself into bed so tim can return to his own room.

tim may have counted his blessings too soon. tim spends the next twenty minutes awkwardly bouncing and riding dick who has an iron grip on tim's hips to grind them together with one hand and the other on the back of tim's neck so he can force their faces together and makeout with tim while jolting his hips and fucking into tim's sore insides.

it's hard work. tim really should give more credit to those porn stars he used to curiously watch. fucking takes a fair degree of muscle control, energy, and stamina and helping both dick and bruce means tim has to increase both- which acutally helps with his robin work so its not all for nothing.

still, after awhile tim loses his initial childish 'ew' ness about saliva and body fluids. he still doesn't find himself liking sex but he does tolerate it well enough to make sure both bruce and dick find enjoyment and relief in it.

not that tim would tell them that. if he admitted he didn't really like having sex they'd get all weird- tim knew they would because they always asked if tim liked something, if something felt good, if he wanted to do something specific. but that too tapered off once they were convinced that all tim wanted was for them to make themselves feel good, using him.

so tim didn't like sex. big whoop. he also didn't like having to shovel snow out of the driveway after a blizzard. or having to go to tutoring for his english class. or having to clean his room.

sometimes tim did things even if he didn't like them. because shoveling the driveway made alfred happy and going to tutoring to raise his english grade made dick happy and doing a weekly vacuuming of his cluttered room made bruce happy.

tim liked making his family happy so if that meant having sex with them well then of course he'd do it!

why wouldn't he?

[kyojurismo]

I don't know If this counts as an Emergency Request and I know I've already made like two, but can I have an emergeny request?!

I'm just now realizing how freaking messed up I am with comfort and knowing when I need help and Why I want and hate physical contact so much!

I'm terrified when people start yelling and I get really shaking and -twitchy when people start raising their voices becuase I associate loud voices with "physical punishment"

I hate asking for emotinal support becuase I'm afraid of being pushed aside and scolded. I'm now realizing why I want to be hugged with so much force and just scream!

I'm asking for Kyojuro, Tengen and his wives, Akaza and Sanemi in a scenario where fem reader is remebering her home life as a child so she suddenly gets really jumping, twitchy, emotinal, and anxious, but refuses to admit she needs help becuase actaully aknowleging it terrifies her, but then she hears someone loudly yelling and breaks down just wanting to squeeze and scream and becuase her family relationship, she doesn't know how to react when she is just genuinly comforted.

Please, I'm really wanting some comfort right now, even if its just ficton.

▸ ANSWERING. i’m in super delay and i deeply apologise. i’m not sure i actually did justice to this kind of feeling… i hope that’s okay and that it’ll help you a bit <3 i’m sending you a big big hug 🫂

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. kyojuro rengoku x fem!reader, tengen uzui & wives x fem!reader, sanemi shinazugawa x fem!reader, akaza x fem!reader

▸ RATING. sfw

▸ WARNINGS. this is my first time writing for akaza i’m shaking, tension, crying, childhood trauma, angst but with comfort, not proofread ofc. lemme know if i missed something !!

KYOJURO RENGOKU

kyojuro is checking senjuro's training, giving him advice and such, while you're cleaning the living area. you remember a moment from when you were young, casually: it's your mother scolding you because you're crying, then your father is here too... you sigh heavily and shake your head, as if to get rid of that memory.

you're unconsciously trembling the whole time, but keep on cleaning. every noise starts to get you more and more nervous, until you hear shinjuro calling kyojuro's name from his room, his tone always so rude, that you break down.

you fall on the ground, hiding your teary face and heavily shaking. kyojuro notices and is soon by your side, checking on you. senjuro goes to their father instead, avoiding him getting angry.

"y/n, what's wrong?" he asks you, trying to gently move your hands from your face. "i'll... i can handle this," you quickly reply, pushing him away. kyojuro frowns, not truly understanding the situation. "i just need to finish cleaning," you whisper and try to grab the cloth you were using to clean the table before kyojuro stops you.

"why are you crying?" he tries again, searching for your eyes. "i'm not crying!" you snap at him, not really making him back away. "baby..." it is as if you're crying even more at this point. kyojuro pulls you against his chest, circling you with his arms.

he's warm, his perfume is comforting and familiar, his big hands are caressing your back gently, soothing you. "w-what are you doing?" you ask, trying to move in his embrace. "i'm comforting you. you're not alone, darling," he caresses your wet cheek and smiles down at you. "i'm here for you, when you're feeling good and when you're down, you don't have to push away your feelings, or else it will get worse."

you stare into his glowing eyes, listening in silence. you've never felt like this before. you were used to force yourself to simply push forward when you were feeling down or overwhelmed, your parents never truly comforted you and kyojuro doing it so loving made a new wave of tears streaming down your cheeks.

"it's okay, let it out."

TENGEN, HINATSURU, MAKIO AND SUMA UZUI

[the memory is pretty much the same for the tengen & sanemi too]

you let a plate fall on the floor, making hinatsuru, who's standing by your side, jump. "wait, don't move..." she says, before kneeling down to gather the broken pieces before throwing them away. "i'm so sorry," you say on the verge of tears.

hina simply shakes her head and smiles at you. "we have plenty of plates, honey," she chuckles, before resuming washing the rest of dirty dishes.

you follow her example and keep drying the now clean dishes. in the back of your head you hear your father shouting at you for breking something and you jump, making another plate fall and break. hinatsuru turns towards you, nothing your distressed expression.

"lord tengen is gonna get mad... i'm so sorry, hinatsuru!" you cry, even though deep inside you know tengen rarely raised his voice at the four of you. "oh baby... don't worry about the plates, no one will scold you for breaking them," she tries to assure you, taking your hand.

makio comes into the kitchen, noticing the broken plate. "what happened?? someone tried to attack you?!" she raises her voice due to preoccupation, checking the whole area to make sure nobody is there to hurt you. "an attack?!" here comes suma. "hey!" tengen enters the kitchen too, to see what's the matter.

"he will get angry, he will scold me again, he will..." you curl up on the floor, cutting your hand with one of the broken pieces but you can't notice it. you're repeating the two phrases over and over, hina and tengen are the first to notice.

"there's nothing, calm down," makio pushes suma away, sighing. "but what if he’s hiding?" she cries, looking around nervously. "don't be dumb, how can he hide when there's five of us here?!"

"shut up!" hinatsuru shouts at the two, making you flinch. tengen moves closer, moving you away from the broken plate and checking your hand. "dumb baby," he whispers while carefully removing the splinter. "don't get mad at me please," you're crying at this point.

"i didn't wanted to break them, i swear!" you scream right into his face while more and more tears stream down your face. "i don't care about a bunch of boring dishes," tengen assures you deathly serious. "get of the kitchen," he orders the others, who quickly obey and say nothing.

tengen notices you're shaking while staring at the ground. "hey, it's okay," tengen cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead, trying to calm you down. "i... i don't know what to do," you whisper, simply staring at his face. "you’re very nervous baby, why don’t you try breathing with me?”

you follow his suggestion and once you’re more calmed tengen hugs you, cuddling with you. he leaves a few kisses on your head while holding you.

“this is… so comforting,” you mutter against his chest, surprising him. “t-that’s the point,” he stutters, noticing how you never actually asked for help and are the one who’s rarely seen seeking this kind of treatment. “you’re okay, darling.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

you’re walking by his side while you two go back to his mansion. he just finished training with iguro and you clearly see he’s a bit tired from the past few days.

when you walk past a little group of slayers, you don’t notice at first but they’re arguing about something. when one of them shouts you jump, bumping into sanemi’s side. “what?” he glances at you and notices something isn’t right. the following screaming and shouting stress you even more, while memories from your childhood take control over your mind.

“what’s wrong?” sanemi asks you, stopping mid track. “n-nothing, i’m alright,” you reply, as if you weren’t clearly shaking and on the verge of tears. “yeah, well that’s bullshit.”

you meet his eyes and flinch back a bit, scared of actually opening up. “i just want to go home…” you try to avoid talking about it and resume walking, moving rapidly. sanemi grunts in response but follows you, staring at you.

once you reach his mansion you’re quick to get the dinner ready, hoping to distract yourself, but you’re failing. sanemi follows your every action and it makes you even more nervous.

if i speak about it, he would push me away and start hating me, stating that i’m weak.

“okay, i’ve had enough of your shit,” he snaps and stops you. he grabs your hands and makes you turn towards him. “you’re all twitchy, you’re holding back tears and you’re clearly distressed. what’s wrong? someone hurt you?” you shake your head, knowing that you would end up crying if you speak. “y/n, i just want to help alright? but i can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” sanemi gets more worried as the time pass.

you notice it and you start crying, feeling bad for making him worry so much. “jeez,” sanemi pulls you into an embrace and you hide your face against his chest. “i’m so sorry!” you raise your voice, crying. his hands caress your back slowly, trying to calm you. “it’s okay,” he assures you and rest his chin on your head, keeping you close to his body. “i-i don’t know how i should react, i just don’t know,” you grip his uniform and sniff, shaking a bit. “just let it out, baby.”

sanemi keeps comforting you, making sure you know that he’s here for you and that it’s okay. it’s okay to cry and ask for help.

AKAZA

[i opted for a nightmare in his case, akaza is visiting reader during the night]

you’re turning in your sleep and sometimes little wails leave your lips, you’re sweating. akaza enters into your house and reaches the bedroom. you wake up right before he enters the bedroom and quickly wipe your tears, catching your breath.

dreaming your parents scolding and yelling at you is the last thing you expected. you’re feeling as if your every next move would be the wrong one and someone will appear to scold you, making you feel small and useless.

“you okay?” he kneels beside your futon and notices your status. “mh, i just had a nightmare. it’s okay,” you reply, trying your best to get over it soon. “you wanna cuddle for a while?” akaza asks, a gentle smile appears on his face. “oh, um… why would i?” you genuinely ask, confusing him a bit.

“well… i think humans like being comforted after a bad dream,” he scratches his neck while chuckling lowly. “i-i’ve never done that… i mean, i don’t know how…” you stutter and start crying without noticing. akaza frowns and raises his hand to wipe away your tears. “let’s do that, alright,” he says before laying down beside you. he circles your body with his arms and holds you closer to his chest. “t-thank you..?” you whisper, letting him do whatever he please.

akaza caresses your hips slowly, kissing your cheeks every once in a while. “i love you,” he mutters against your skin. “i’ll always be with you,” he promises. you scoot closer and smile, taking one of his hands into yours.

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. well i hope it wasn’t too bad because it started to suck for me lol lol lol

[serasfanfiction]

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

[chestcongestion]

Demon-to-Demon Ch.2/5 : Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion, Vale/nti/no (he doesn't do anything, but I know some people aren't into his general...existence), and mess

Word count: 4,329

Chapter two is finished, right before I have to leave for work, funnily enough ^^, this chapter is even longer than the first, including some more setup because I love my porn with some plot, some structure. I don't know how many chapters this thing will have...I'm aiming for at least 4 or 5. Hope you enjoy!

“Hh’KZZHhshew! Hh’Tszchiiiew! HIH’TSHHEW!”  

Niffty dove to catch Alastor’s coffee mug before it hit the floor, placing it back on the end table next to the armchair that he’d slept in all night, waking up the next morning with itchier sinuses and an awful sore throat. 

“Got it! Maybe you should wait until you’re done sneezing before you drink your coffee, Alastor,” Niffty proposed. 

“Mby… snff!- My coffee would be ice cold by the…H-heh…HEH’KZZHHT! HEH’KSHIEW! Heh’KTSCHIEWW… by the time I’m done sneezing,” Alastor replied, his voice noticeably hoarse as he took a sip of his coffee. 

“That’s true,” Niffty said, wiping her hands on her dress skirt. 

Alastor held his handkerchief with both hands, loudly blowing his nose until he had to pause and catch his breath, scrubbing under his nostrils to try and fend off the building itch, “This is ludicrous,” he grumbled to himself, “How did this happen? H-huh’KSCHIEW! Hh’KZzhht!” 

“For fuck’s sake!” Husk groaned from his station behind the bar, wincing at the droplets that sprayed into the air with each unruly sneeze, “Same way it’s gonna happen to the rest of us if you don’t cover your damn mouth!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, “You seem to have survived a direct hit to the face just fine, Husker,” he said with a knowing smile. 

Husk shuddered, thinking about the previous day and instinctively wiping his face off again, “Don’t remind me,” he said with a huff, “I hope whatever this is knocks you out again so I don’t have to hear your smart ass mouth.”  

Alastor lowered his eyelids threateningly, “Excuse mbe?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, reaching for his microphone, only to be thwarted by the scratchiness of his throat, coughing into his wrist. 

“I could get used to this,” Husk chuckled, “You bein’ too sick to threaten me.” 

Alastor- still coughing- angrily stuck up his middle finger in Husk’s direction. Eventually, the coughing fit let up and Alastor was able to take a deep breath, leaning back in his armchair and briefly shutting his eyes. 

“Morning everyone!” Charlie said with a smile upon arriving downstairs with Vaggie. 

“Mornin’,” Husk replied with a wave, taking a swig from a bottle of cognac he kept underneath the bar counter. Niffty broke her focus on sweeping the floor around the bar to give Charlie an eager wave before returning to her task. 

“Hh’ptshh! Hh’kzZHht! HNK’Tshhieww!” Alastor sneezed, wiping off the underside of his nose with his damp handkerchief, the constant friction leaving his nose irritated, twitchy, and shiny, “Pardon mbe- Snff snff!- I can’t stop… HH’KSchiiew!” 

“I was going to ask if you’re feeling any better, but I think I know the answer,” Charlie said, cautiously holding out her hand, “Can I feel your forehead?” 

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” Alastor muttered, staring at Charlie’s hand while he gently pushed it away with his microphone. 

“That’s fair… can I at least take your temperature with this?” Charlie asked, holding up an ear thermometer and flashing Alastor a pleading smile, “It’ll only take a second.” 

Alastor’s left eye twitched, but he relented, “If you insist… snff… make it qui-ih…IH’KSHHIEW!” he said, wrenching his eyes shut as Charlie slid the thermometer into his ear. 

The thermometer beeped, and Charlie quickly pulled it out , “Almost 102… how do you feel?” 

Alastor ignored the heat that had risen in his cheeks, answering Charlie’s inquiry with a shrug until the prickling sensation in his sinuses returned, “HNK’TSHHEW! HH’KSSHHIEW!... Messy is probably the most notable word I’d use…snf-snf!” 

“Fair enough,” Charlie replied, only to jump when Angel rushed into the parlor, draping himself over the back of the sofa, visibly out of breath, “Oh, hi Angel!” 

“Hi, yeah, G’Mornin’, watch this-” Angel said hurriedly, turning on the television in the parlor and glancing at his phone before a 666 News bulletin interrupted whatever had been playing before it. 

“Good Morning Pentagram City, I’m Katie Killjoy!” an all-too-familiar voice greeted from the other side of the screen, “Breaking news from scientists in the Doomsday district: A viral infection is sweeping its way through The Pentagram. While completely harmless, it is said to be incredibly contagious, and researchers say that they are uncertain of how long the infection lasts.” 

“Well, that explains what happened yesterday,” Charlie sighed, leaning against the arm of the sofa and reading the text on the screen, “It’s already infected 16% of the entire city? That’s almost impressive…” 

“Don’t think the virus needs your encouragement, Princess,” Husk piped up from behind the bar. 

“Sorry, force of habit,” Charlie chuckled, silently reading the list of symptoms that appeared on the screen, “Huh, these are basically just your symptoms, Alastor.” 

A silence filled the room, all present individuals shifting their gaze to Alastor, and then to each other. 

“Ohhhh,” Charlie said, finally connecting the dots, “Shit.”  

Alastor blew his nose, tucking his handkerchief away when he finished, “I should have skipped that accursed meetii-IH’Kschhiew! Hih’KShhew! HIH’KSCHIEWWW!” he said, swiping his wrist underneath his nostrils after his last explosive sneeze, wincing at how the wetness of said sneezes was beginning to make his irritated nose look shiny. 

 “It’s okay Alastor, hey, nobody else is sick yet, that’s a good sign, right?” Charlie asked. 

Alastor shrugged, taking another cautious sip of his coffee and wincing at how the harsh texture against his scratchy throat made him want to cough, “I suppose so,” he said, pushing himself out of the armchair and attempting to brush off the way he swayed on his feet, “I’m going to spend my confinement getting caught up on some correspondence… best of lu-huh…HUH’KSHHHEW! Hnk’TSHIEW!...luck, best of luck.” 

In a blink, Alastor’s armchair was empty, leaving nothing behind except an invisible radiating aura of germs that made everyone nervous about approaching it. 

“Alright, I’m heading out with Vaggie to go do some more field recruiting, have fun while I’m gone!” Charlie announced, walking out of the front doors, her left arm linked with Vaggie’s right. 

Angel checked his phone before stuffing it into his chest fluff, “I gotta bounce, today’s shoot is in two hours but makeup’s gonna take at least 30 minutes, see ya!” he said, waving goodbye to the group, shooting Husk a wink on his way out the door. 

“I’m gonna… Gonna go make another mural, yeah… found a bangin’ wall to paint on the other day, hope to fuck it’s still blank,” Cherri said, bouncing on her heels. She’d only recently exchanged her bombs for brushes, after Charlie’s recommendation of a more ‘constructive’ hobby, and it was going well as an outlet for her emotions and destructive urges. 

Once Cherri left through the front doors, Husk and Niffty were alone in the parlor. Husk breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the bar counter, his nose twitching. 

“Niff… d-do me a solid, hm?” Husk asked, tapping his claws together as he struggled to resist rubbing his nose. 

“Okay! What is it?” Niffty asked, scrambling over to the bar and standing on the counter. 

“I-ih… I need you to h-hih… hit me in the face w-whhihhth your feather duster,” Husk pleaded in a hushed tone, fanning in front of his face as his nose twitched faster, “P-please…Hehh…h-hihhh” 

“Why?” Niffty asked, blinking innocently as she pulled her feather duster out of the loop in her skirt’s waistband. 

“I…Iihh… Hihh… H-hihh!... I gotta sndeeze…snf!” Husk muttered, “It’s st-huhh…Huhh!- stuck.” 

“Ohhhh! Okay!” Niffty said, smacking Husk on both sides of his face with her feather duster, before brushing it up against Husk’s twitchy, sensitive nose, dust clinging to his sinuses with each desperate inhale. 

“H-HUHH’KSCHOO! HUH’KSCHOO! Huh’KSCHUHHH!!” 

Niffty blinked, watching Husk’s violent sneezing fit practically double him over, his fur standing on its end and a slight trickle of moisture beginning to leak from his perfect feline jellybean of a nose. 

“Mmbh…SnFFF!...guhh,” Husk groaned, running the back of his hand under his nostrils with a damp sniffle, his typical alcohol-induced flush shifting from grey to pink, “Fuck I ndeeded that…SNrkk!” 

“I thought you’d sneeze cuter,” Niffty huffed, flicking another puff of dust from her feather duster into Husk’s face with a pout. 

“hHRR’KSCHUHHH! Hhn’KSCHEWWW! HNK’SCHUHHH! H-hUH’KSSHHOO!...SnRKK!...Snff-snff!” Husk sneezed again, his eyes growing irritated and his eyelids getting puffy, the patch of skin above his nose turning an itchy pink as he scrubbed it with the heel of his palm, “Shit, Ndiffty, quit it…snffff!”

“You sneeze like an old man,” Niffty teased, giggling as she held out her feather duster again, only for Husk to grab hold of it and gently push it away, “Awww…no fun!” 

“News flash, I amb an old man…snff! Shit…” Husk grumbled, grabbing a paper towel from the roll behind the bar and noisily blowing his nose, tossing the soiled paper into the trash and attempting to wipe the congestion-induced moisture out of his lower eyelids. 

“You’re good at hiding,” Niffty said with a smile, “I almost didn’t notice you were sick… I don’t think anyone else did at all.” 

“How the hell did you notice?” Husk asked, raising a fluffy eyebrow. 

“You kept pinching your nose, rubbin’ it and pushing up on it… you tried passin’ it off like you were just grooming your face, but I know you,” Niffty whispered, poking Husk’s nose, “You use the other hand for that.” 

“Well ain’t you a clever bug,” Husk scoffed, shooting Niffty a warm smile, “This stays between us until I get shittier at hiding, got it?” 

“You may ndeed to expand your definition of ‘us’,” 

Husk felt his heart jump into his throat, and lunged forward out of panic, nearly slamming his head against the counter, “HHK’SSCHHHUHH! Shit!” he exclaimed, letting out a hoarse cough, “I dunno what to be angrier about, you gettin’ me sick by sneezin’ in my face or you being a nosy fuckin’ creep!” 

“Why not both?” Alastor chuckled, his laughter taking on a wheezy undertone and threatening to turn into a cough until he suffocated it with a harsh swallow, “I’m almost impressed, you’re better at keeping up appearances than me… I suppose after all our years together I’m rubbing off on you.” 

Husk dodged Alastor’s attempt to pet him between his ears, snarling at his boss with an unamused glare, “Don’t you have letters to write or some shit?” he hissed, the plumage on his tail fluffing up as he flattened his ears in frustration. 

“Oh, I have all the time in the world to finish mby letters, eavesdropping is mbuch more fun- snFf!” Alastor replied, pulling out his handkerchief and blowing his nose, rolling his eyes at the heavy rumble of congestion in his sinuses, “Uch…snff!... disgusting.” 

“Tell me about it,” Husk grumbled, staring at Alastor’s flannel pajamas and shooting him a teasing smile, “You look ridiculous.” 

Alastor smacked Husk in the back of the head with his microphone, “I will not take pot shots from someone who looks like they use a giant litter box,” he said through clenched teeth, feeling a familiar tickle in his sinuses when Husk poked his nose, “H-hihh…Hih… HIH’Tshhiew! Hihh’TShhhewww! HIh’TSsHiew!” 

“I could get used to you havin’ an off switch,” Husk said with a smirk. 

Alastor sniffled, wrinkling his nose and wiping around his nostrils with his handkerchief, annoyed with how often he had to pull it out and tuck it away in his pockets again, “You… I…” Alastor blinked, swaying a bit on his feet and steadying himself by pressing his palms against the counter, “I completely forgot what I was going to say…” 

Husk noticed the beads of sweat trickling down from Alastor’s hairline, the glassy quality of his eyes, and the sudden uptick in effort he was putting into breathing. If those weren’t enough to signal that their playful banter was over, twenty seconds later Alastor silently lowered himself to the floor, stretching out on his back and covering his eyes with both hands, still smiling, but noticeably drained. 

“I am going to lie here… until everything stops spinning,” Alastor said breathlessly, holding a hand over his mouth to cover a violent cough, the crackle of congestion audible in his lungs, “Euch…” 

Husk’s ear twitched, and he quietly joined Alastor on the floor, curling up next to Alastor’s reclined form and purring, in spite of the fact that purring aggravated his runny nose.

Niffty resolved to leave the two alone, hurrying away from the bar to finish her daily cleaning checklist, completely oblivious when a message on Husk’s phone popped up from Angel. 

[Might be back earlier than I thought… today’s shoot’s goin’ weird] 

Across the pentagram, in Valentino’s porn studio, Angel found himself on his hands and knees, filming B-roll material for the studio’s current work in progress. The floodlights had been turned off, and the air conditioning in the studio was cranked, making the filming space so cold that Angel could practically see his own breath. 

“He’s shakin’ too much, the DP can’t get the camera to focus,” Travis whispered. 

“Angel, baby, the more you shake, the longer you have to stay like that until we get a good shot of your pretty little ass,” Valentino crooned, blowing a plume of smoke into the air and fanning himself off with a copy of the script, “What’s the matter? You nervous? Need something to calm you down?” 

“I’m n-not nervous,” Angel retorted, running the back of his hand under his nostrils, “I’m cold… snff!... it’s freezin’ in here.” 

Valentino groaned, massaging his temples and snapping his fingers at two members of the film crew, “Turn the lights back on,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off, his pectorals and abdomen slick with sweat, “Fuck, I’m gonna melt, why is it so hot in here?!” 

Angel’s shivering subsided slightly with the heat from the large floodlights returning, and he managed to hold his position long enough for the camera to capture what it needed to capture. 

“Okay Angie, roll onto your back and open your legs,” Valentino instructed, wincing at the bright lights, which were beginning to give him a headache. 

Angel rolled onto his back, spreading his legs open, “Hhh… Val… I uhb… Uh..Huhh…-” he attempted to ask for a moment to pause, his breath beginning to hitch, the tickle that seemed to randomly appear in his sinuses building to a quiet crescendo- 

“Hih’kshuu! Ih’kshuu! Ih…h-ihhh… ‘Kshuu!” Valentino’s squeaky, quiet sneezes caught Angel off guard, so much so that he forgot about his own need to sneeze, “I-IHH’KShuu!” 

Angel sat up, leaning forward and hugging his knees as he watched Valentino pluck a handful of tissues from a box next to his chair, holding them up to his face as Angel’s breath hitched again, “Huh…h-ihh…Hihh-” 

“Ihh’pshuu! Ihh’KSHUU! Hih’kshuu! ‘Kshuu! ‘KShhiew!” Valentino sneezed, throwing his damp tissues into a small trashcan that he typically reserved for dumping out his ash trays, “Fuck! I can’t s-stop sne-eezi’g- IHH’KSHUU!” 

Angel frowned, frustrated that his shithead boss seemed to be snatching his own sneezes out from under him. He swallowed, wincing at a dull soreness in the back of his throat, and basked in the warmth of the floodlights while Valentino emptied his sinuses into another handful of tissues. 

“Where were we?” Valentino asked Travis, who shrugged, “Dammit… snff… I can’t fucking focus with this itching!” 

Angel stared intently, watching his boss scrub desperately at his nostrils with the heel of his palm, his cool-toned skin looking hypersensitive and blotchy. 

Eventually, Valentino gave up, flopping back in his chair and motioning for Angel to approach, “Angieee, c’mere baby…snff!” he beckoned. 

Angel rolled his eyes while Valentino wasn’t looking, and slid off of the bed, sprawling out at his boss’s feet and looking up at him from between his long legs, “Yes, Val?” he asked, his sore throat giving his voice a husky overtone that made him feel sexier, even if it was slightly painful. 

Valentino paused as a shiver ran through his body, making him practically vibrate as more sweat trickled down his face, the previously sexual look in his eyes melted into something more vulnerable and subdued, almost frightened. 

“Uhm… n-nevermind,” he mumbled, massaging his temples and jumping when another shiver ran up his spine, “Fuck… now I’m cold.” 

Angel blinked, feeling heat radiating from Valentino’s body in a manner indistinguishable from the sensation of hovering your hand over a curling iron.

Not particularly concerned about the man keeping him on a choke chain, Angel did see how the current circumstances could get him off the clock earlier than expected, “Val, I think you’ve got a fever,” he said, laying on the faux-concern as thick as possible, cupping Valentino’s warm face with both hands. 

Valentino’s antennae fluttered at the soothing touch, leaning into it, “Really?” he asked, his tired eyes briefly closing as Angel stroked his cheeks. 

“Yeah…” Angel replied, pressing the back of his hand to Valentino’s forehead, feeling a noticeable warmth, but nothing particularly extreme,“You’re burnin’ up… poor baby.” 

Valentino seemed to wilt in his chair, snapping his fingers at the film crew to turn the floodlights back off and getting up from his seat, struggling to stand on his own two feet, “Okay, yeah, we’re done here… I feel like shit…IHh’kshuu! H-hih’kshuu!” he muttered, “Everyone out, I’ll let you know when we’re picking back up with the schedule.” 

Angel nodded, tugging on his shorts and jacket, “Bye Val, hope you feel better,” he said, waving goodbye and rushing out of the studio before Valentino could change his mind. 

“Bye Angiehh- IHH’KSHUU! ‘Kshuu! ‘Kshhieew!- Fuck! I’b gonna kill Velvette for getti’g mbe sick- IH’KSHIIEW!” Valentino hissed. 

Angel sprinted out of the Vees’ media tower, panting to catch his breath upon reaching the bottom, coughing into his arm when his ragged breaths caught in his scratchy throat, “Phew… made it,” he sighed to himself, finger-combing his fluffy hair to neaten it out. 

On his walk back to the hotel, it dawned on Angel that the streets seemed less crowded than usual, there were still people out and about, but it wasn’t the jam-packed squeeze it normally was… not by a long shot.  

“Wonder where everybody is,” Angel pondered out loud, scoffing at his hoarse voice. 

Suddenly, the familiar prickle that had built up in Angel’s sinuses while he was working returned in full force, with nothing distracting him, it built, and built, and built until Angel stopped in his tracks, fanning in front of his face and pawing around on his person for a tissue. 

“Hahh…H-hahh…Ah…!!” 

Angel sniffled faintly, trying to fight the urge to sneeze and failing miserably, by the time he got his hands on something he even thought was a tissue, it was too late. 

“Ah’tshhheww! Hah’tshew! HAH’KTSHIEW! A-ahh’KSHIEW!! ‘KSHIEWW!” Angel sneezed, polishing off his fit with a damp sniffle, thanking fate that no one was around to see the dense mist of droplets he’d just sprayed into the air, “Fuck mbe…snff! That’s probably where everybody else is… somewhere sneezin’ their heads off…AH’KSHHEW!” 

Angel winced, blowing his “nose” into the single tissue he found in a nearly-empty travel packet in his back pocket, tossing the soggy paper into a nearby trash can. Each spraying sneeze seemed hell-bent on scraping at his already-raw throat, swallowing growing more and more painful with every sneeze. 

An hour passed, and Angel walked through the hotel’s front doors with an exhausted expression painted onto his face, struggling to sniffle enough to keep the constant trickle of moisture at bay, his “nose” reddened from the constant rubbing. 

“Back early!” Angel announced, gently resting a hand on his throat and swallowing, frustrated that the husky, almost tattered quality of his voice had only managed to get worse on his walk home. 

“You’re back from a shoot in a good mood?” Husk asked incredulously from his position behind the bar, pouring a shot of whiskey into two mugs of steaming liquid, “Did your boss fall out the window?” 

“Fuck, I wish- snff!- he’s sick with whatever’s been goin’ around,” Angel explained, pausing to clear his throat, “Sorry… but it was ridiculous, he had the AC cranked up and the lights off cause he was too hot… snff-snff! I swear I could see my breath in there it was so cold.” 

Husk chuckled, “Don’t think keepin’ a porn studio ice cold is the best idea,” he said, carefully swiping underneath his nose when Angel wasn’t paying attention, “What’d he have you doin’ today? Normally your voice ain’t this wrecked without givin’ some giant head for an hour.” 

“Actually, I didn’t even have to do anythin’ today, they were just gettin’ B-roll shots of my body by myself… it was kinda nice,” Angel paused, “Mby…snff…sorry… mby throat’s just sore, it’s kinda pissin’ me off cause I feel like I’m losin’ my voice.” 

Husk’s ear twitched, and he silently pushed one of the steaming mugs over to Angel, “This should help at least,” he said with a kind smile, both ears twitching when his fingers brushed up against Angel’s. 

The two demons took a sip of the hot substance in their mugs, and then another, before setting their drinks down. Angel licked his lips at the taste of black tea, honey, and whiskey, a blend of flavors that reminded him of his brief stint lounge singing back on Earth. 

“This is good, thanks,” Angel said, taking another sip and sighing at the warm liquid soothing his scratchy throat on the way down. 

“Don’t mention it, glad the pain wasn’t caused by someone else’s dick for once,” Husk laughed, clenching his teeth to stifle the cough that was building in his chest, and taking another swallow of his drink. 

The plumes of steam blooming from Husk and Angel’s mugs reached up to their faces and wafted into their sinuses, the steam loosening up the congestion they’d built up from hours of sniffling. 

“H’RrSCHUHHH! Hh’TSCHUHHH! Hnk’TSHOOO! hNk’SHEWWW,” Husk sneezed, hurriedly hiding the mess of congestion behind a handful of paper towels, noisily blowing his nose and trying not to wince at the abrasive paper towel rubbing his sensitive little jellybean raw. 

“Ah’KShew! Ah’kShiiew! Hah’kchew! Hnk’Chiew! Ah’KShhhew!” Angel sneezed, running the back of his wrist under his nostrils and wincing at the mess he’d made of his gloves by swiping at his “nose”.  

“Well, at least I don’t have to  hold ‘em in anymore,” Husk sighed, noisily blowing his nose and tossing the bundle of soiled paper towels in the trash, before turning to address Angel, “You too?” 

“Mmhm,” Angel replied, wiping tears from his watery eyes, “I don’t even know who I caught it fromb- A-ahh’KSHEW!- either Val… or Velvette, or Smiles… where is he, anyway?” 

Husk gestured toward the armchair in the parlor with his head, where Alastor was curled up, half asleep, staring at the television with glassy eyes, “The fever’s kickin’ his ass, watch this- Alastor!” he called out. 

“Hm?” Alastor replied, turning to face Husk. 

“How many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Husk asked, sticking up his middle finger at Alastor, who could barely register shapes in his current state. 

“Uhmb…Hnk’Shhiew!... three?” Alastor replied, squinting at Husk’s hand from the negligible distance between the parlor and the bar. 

Husk snickered, “Yup, three,” he lied, turning back to face Angel, “He doesn’t even know where he is right now.” 

“Oh shit, that’s gonna be us,” Angel sighed, polishing off the last of his drink and clearing his throat, “I already feel a little woozy… I’mb gonna go change outta this, you comin’?” 

“Comin’ to change into mby pajamas, or comin’ to watch you change?” Husk inquired. 

“Both?” Angel offered, scratching behind Husk’s left ear. 

“Both it is,” Husk replied.  

Thirty minutes later, Husk and Angel emerged from Angel’s room, both looking noticeably more tired than when they vanished upstairs, and collapsed onto the sofa next to Alastor’s armchair. Husk positioned himself so that his head was nestled underneath Angel’s chest fluff, and Angel shuffled in place so that Husk was right between both of his legs, the large cat’s fever-heightened body heat keeping Angel from shivering. 

“I feel hot,” Husk grumbled, running a hand under his nose and wishing he had a box of tissues. 

“I feel cold,” Angel whimpered, hugging Husk closer to him in an attempt to fight back against his building chills, “a-AH’kSHEW!...’kSHeww! ‘Ksheww!” 

“I mbiss phonographs… snrkk!... It was always so interesti’g to watch themb spin,” Alastor rambled feverishly, his nose twitching, “Hnk’TSHhiew! HNK’TSHHEW!” 

Niffty draped a blanket over Angel and Husk, and wiped down Alastor’s forehead with a damp washcloth, before returning to her flurry of cleaning tasks, humming peacefully to herself while the three pitifully sick demons stared at the television. 

Eventually, Charlie and Vaggie returned from their work outside the hotel, “Guys, we’re back!” Charlie called out, “Cherri texted me saying that she’d be back tomorrow, she’s scouting out another mural space right now, but I wonder if Angel’s back from his shoot yet.” 

Niffty tugged on Charlie’s pant leg, “Look,” she whispered, gesturing toward the parlor, where Husk and Angel were snoring against one another, and Alastor- while awake- was feverishly rambling to himself. 

“Oh no,” Charlie sighed, “At least they look comfortable… the news wasn’t lying about this thing being contagious.” 

“Yeah, maybe we should be a bit more cautious around them and their germs before anyone else gets sick,” Vaggie proposed, inching away from the germy haze in the parlor, with her hands behind her back. 

“Ihh’pshuu! Ih’pshuu! H-hihh’kshew!” 

Charlie and Vaggie winced at the sound of Niffty sneezing from the other room. 

“I’ll go get her,” Vaggie said, “Whatever this is, let’s cross our fingers it doesn’t get any worse.” 

“Yeah… fingers crossed,” Charlie echoed, crossing her fingers while staring at her sick friends with wary concern, their congested snoring occasionally broken up by a hoarse cough from Angel, “Feel better, guys.” 

When Charlie walked away, Alastor drowsily looked up, following her with his eyes until she left the room, mouthing a delirious ‘Thank you’ in her direction before leaning back in his armchair and falling asleep. 

[yawntu]

The Times We Win

A/N: There’s not enough out there for the literal sexiest man in the whole franchise. Do I have to do everything myself? DO I? Second person pov isn’t my cup of tea but he deserves sm more hype. You’re work with Mo’at as a shamans apprentice or something and he admires you a lot but you act all tough because of it. Also i’m delusional and in my silly little mind he’s alive him and Jake are buddies even if he doesn’t like admitting it <333333333333 I know this man aggressively spoils the people in his life u can’t tell me you would not be a queen in his presence. Vague mention of bestie Jake Sully who has made you a definition of a gremlin.

pairing(s): Tsu’Tey te Rongloa Atey’itan x Fem!Reader

word count: 6k

warnings: NSFW MDNI, I am going to an unimaginable hell. Overstim, Sub/dom aspects, Unprotected (be safe y’all), Established Relationship, Oral (fem!receiving), Fingering, P in V, Praise / degradation, Usually soft ish dom Tsu’tey turned a little mean has my heat, He just wants you to not act like a hooligan and behave you’re better then that, He’s going to torture you and tease you a little bit tho, Tsu’Tey is obsessed with you, Slight non/con if you squint, Saw someone do queue stuff and had to commit to it, Squirting, Breeding, Vague waterworks if you squint, Slight dacryphilla, Impact play, He’s a little mean in this one but, Slightest hint of Daddy kink at the end but he can’t help wanting you full of his kids <3, if you notice anything else pls lmk, we were both cringing writing this /jk

na’vi glossary: kelku- home, tswin/kuru- queue, yawntutsyìp: darling, Nga yawne lu oer - I love you, paskalin: honey, yawntu: beloved, sempu : daddy

A lot of things no longer made sense to Tsu’tey. He had spent a majority of his teenage years with the sole focus of being Ole’eytkan, and defeating the twatute. All he was was a warrior, always ready to fight. After a series of events outside of his control he lost his first love, reigned as Ol’eytkan briefly and then willingly gave the honor to the uniltìrantokx. Granted he had accepted the man as a brother and even sided with him when his parents had done the unthinkable- that did not mean that the way his life turned out did not often confuse him. 

So all he could do was preoccupy himself with you. Your soft thighs are thrown over his own, a stark contrast between soft and ridged. He could not help but tense his outstretched legs under the weight of your straddle. For his intimidating stature, Tsu’tey’s fingertips are lithe against the cerulean skin of your back. Your arms are thrown haphazardly over his broad shoulders that have started purpling due to being out under the sun daily. You twirl the loose hair at the end of his braids, occasionally caressing the stubble on the side of his head. 

You had been perched on his legs like this for what could have only been an hour. Tongues sloppily slotting against each other, teeth clicking ever so slightly on occasion. Kissing him has left you dizzy every single time despite how long you have found a home in each other. Seeing the normally coy and aloof man so passionately present sent jitters up your spine right to the base of your pleasantly throbbing kuru. 

He had finally given you a scintilla of what you desired when his thumbs gently grazed the swell of your breasts. He doesn’t miss the way your body jolts up in his lap, or the way your ears draw forward, tensing your forehead that rests against his own. Finally drawn out of your distracted kiss hazed day dream, and once again fully focused on him. Twitchy like a yerik before he’d impale it with an arrow. 

You had to nearly whine to get him to toy with your breasts- drop your body weight down into him and give him little choice but to entertain you. Letting your weight push the fat of your breast into his empty hands. One large hand massages your breast while the other reaches behind you to untie the intricate halter of your jewel beaded top. 

You try desperately to pull back- to watch his fingers finally twiddle with the soft azure of your right nipple, yet he’d catch you in another kiss not long after you pulled away. Not allowing you to watch the powerful and rugged hands- that had no doubt done the most of the work in bringing home the talioang that had just fed the village- smoothly rub against your nipple. His right hand finds your stomach, palming the warmth. It made his tail flick, knowing he provided for you. He didn’t so much care for filling the stomachs of the rest of the village- no, he was far more interested in what else he could fill yours with. 

How can he think of anything else when you are practically trembling on his lap. Sighing into his mouth as his calloused hands slid past your svelte waist to grip a handful of the hips he loved so dearly, hands embarrassingly growing clammy at the feeling of the skin bunching between his fingers. 

“‘Su’tey…” 

How can he think straight when you slur over his name? When your tail is flicking so pretty between his legs, the tuft of whipsy hair tickling his calf. It is too hot out for you to add this much heat to the atmosphere of the home you built together. 

“Are you alright, sevin?” 

You had not moved back from where your lips were ghosting each other, so he was privileged with feeling the apples of your full cheeks rising at the compliment. 

“Oh? I’m pretty now? What happened to being a skxawng?” 

Ahhh. That’s right. He remembered now. How displeased he was with you. You were a skxawng. An absolute fucking moron. He had to restrain himself when his large palm cradles the back of your head, wrapping around your kuru, pulling you back softly so your eyes are trained up at the ceiling of your tent, tsmisnrr illuminating your soft features. He feels the sharp angle of your nails grace down the braid of his own kuru, finally releasing some of the deep rooted tension at the base of his skull. The seconds of bliss do not halt the attitude laced quip from falling from his lips,

“Why do you always have to ruin everything. I forgot you were a vonvä,” 

His hiss barely falls past his subulated teeth. And now that your head is trained back he can finally run his nose down the nape of your neck. You can’t even say that he’s kissing it. His mouth is no longer dry and leaves a messy trail of his saliva all over your pulse. Maybe he was right. You were always a dick head. No discipline. Just a mischievous little fuck that he prayed would stay out of trouble while he was out providing for you. Yet you never did. Could he blame you? Your world was peaceful now, almost too peaceful. After growing up war torn he was sure you felt every bit of anxious energy he still felt himself. Unlike you however he had an outlet in hunting. Though you serviced the village well, and were adored by many, your work did not give you an outlet to release all of that turbulent energy. So you found yourself meddling. Your quips were usually funny, and you amused him, but he was aware that you knew how to get under peoples skin. Even worse- you thought it was funny. 

He was grateful for Jake, really they were the best of friends now. Though Tsu’tey would never admit it he had finally found comfort in feeling like a younger brother, he genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together. However, Jake encouraged your bad behavior. Teaching you English curses, or how to flip the middle finger at argumentative Na’vi while you were meant to be helping them. He supposes if you were just a forager or cook then perhaps he could excuse the attitude you walked around with. You worked under Mo’at though, not just as a healer, but to be a shaman. A holy woman. Despite a respectable title you had fucking punched a man. Salt to the earth, you had flipped him off after. You were small for your kind, an incapable (unwilling; you’re compassionate you’d tell him) of killing a bug kind of girl training to be a peaceful shaman, and yet you were hitting men. To prove a point; to win whatever overblown argument you had decided you’d be the winner of. Hitting men when he wasn’t there to save you from the recoil. 

He owes Ki’ani for defusing the situation in his absence (which was an extra annoyance to him as one of his students had filled the role he was meant for). All for you to sit on his lap, giggling that he called you an asshole. Utterly bemused that he of all people would be grumpy over a brawl. 

“Ah, I remember why I don’t hang out with you hunters. Vulgar hooligans. And i’m meant to be better than that,” 

There was an air of superiority in your voice that he thought didn’t suit what he was about to make of you. The snooty little angle of your head to the side, smirked lip caught on your sharp teeth. You only acted so tough around the village because you knew he would get you out of any predicament you had managed to get into during the hours he was away. Relinquishing his Olo'eyktan duties after surviving the war meant the only dedication left in his heart was you. It has spoiled you really, and it was all his fault. 

“You don’t hang out with hunters ‘cause the only thing you know how to do right is irritate me,”

He loosens the grip on your kuru, sliding his hands down your shoulders and ribs once more so he could squish your full breasts together, allowing him to finally run the moistened muscle of his tongue across the swell of your right breast. He had not realized how wet his mouth had grown until his teeth began to graze the flesh. 

He knows you are mad above him. Irritated that he had sat stoically though dinner in a silent rage just to have you follow him home to be teased for what you believed was far too long. Undoubtedly, even more irritated now that he had just called you annoying. Your hips jut forward when he runs his teeth over your purpling nipple though you are unable to slide up his extended legs due to the grip he held on your breasts. He smiles against them- amused that you had become so worked up that your chest was beginning to flush. If he wasn’t so irate he’d have spent more time kissing the blush that crept across your chest. 

“You seem very friendly for someone who’s vexed by my existence,” 

You still have that stupid tone of ascendancy to your voice, and it works at pulling him out of his lustful haze. Your eyes trailed down to your saliva covered breasts that he has occupied himself with sucking soft bruises on. He knows what you’re doing. Being annoying on purpose so he gives in and pays attention to you. 

He hasn’t meant to neglect you. Eywa knows he would never want anything less. He had responsibilities though. The warmest season would end sooner rather than later, and Tsu’tey was far too busy helping prepare- which meant you would have been in the village without him to keep that big brain of yours occupied. He doesn’t acknowledge your quip, and you quickly realize it’s to punish you. He does not like the tone of your voice, and he wouldn’t entertain the impish attempt to continue to rile him up, instead he’d continue to lick and kiss at your assaulted chest. 

But you always poked the palulukan, even before he had claimed you. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when your hips wriggled forward again in an attempt to flush against his, arching your back to slide to your goal. You’re embarrassed by the feeling of the moistened fabric finally making contact with him, but you are shameless at the feeling of slotting up against him. You try to look down, to see where you meet but his torso and head, that had slid up to the crook of your neck as you moved forward kept you from gazing upon where he stood at attention for you. You could feel the speared tip that has grown past the confines of his tweng, leaking violently against his stomach now that your own body pushed against it. 

His resolve breaks only momentarily as his face falls to hide in your neck as his eyebrows furrow. He had to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your mandible to distract himself from purring at the contact of your heat. It felt like ages ago he made you sit on his lap. Plants are now glowing outside, and your body is beginning to clam up and tremble. You are embarrassed when your nails dig into his shoulders as leverage to try and grind yourself forward. Anything to end this impasse with your imposing mate, the weight of his presence right next to your deprived cunt sending you into a haze of mania-inducing desire. 

He knows he’s cruel when his hand wraps around the base of your tail, pulling you backwards off of him, the round of your ass once again finding their perch above his knees. He almost feels bad when your eyes are wide and watery, staring at him in disbelief.

“Baby please, this is cruel,”

He snorts at the term of endearment. He hadn’t been called a baby since he was one. No one would dare call him such a name- yet here you were. He could tell you were indignant, but you still found it in your heart to speak softly to him. He can only smile up at you, fangs poking into the pout of his bottom lip; it’s a patronizing hint of a smirk that makes a whining hiss fall from your kiss swollen lips. You feel the pad of his thumb caress the puckered ring under your tail, sliding under the thong of your tweng as a response. 

“Why should I touch that cute cunt of yours, huh?” 

He whispers against your lips, kissing you quickly and softly. Your ears pull back against your head, and your tail wraps across his calf, the end thudding against him rhythmically. Your stomach flutters at his words, partially because he had been too quiet up until this point.

“Tsu’tey- you’re being mean to me,”

You whine like a petulant child, nose crinkling and fangs baring ever so slightly. Like a cornered animal caught in a carefully laid trap he can see you weigh your options- trying to figure out what you can do to break him. To win. 

“You are mean to me,” his answer isn’t a quip like yours was, there’s an aftershock of a scold in his voice. You can’t help but break your gaze. 

In response to your sudden shyness he releases your tail and begins to roll the spheres of your ass in slow circles while slowly squishing them together then pulling them back apart. His nimble fingers would slide under the waist of your tweng to pull it up, snagging it against the thin sensitive skin under your tail, and wedging the delicate woven linen between the lips of your pussy. He relishes in the sloppy sound of your lips plopping together against his intrusions and you’re whimpering breaths. 

“All day I go out and take care of all the things you need, and all you do to repay me is get yourself into trouble.” 

You are embarrassed that he is scolding you while you’re dripping onto his lap, and you thank Eywa most of the village is still preoccupied with eating and festivities as to not hear the reprimand in your mates horsed yet honeyed voice from the inside of your home. You could have gotten a little rowdy, but you do nothing in comparison to the trouble he and his friends could occasionally get into. You can’t bring yourself to argue your case though. All you can do is look up at his sulfuric eyes, your own gaze knitted together in embarrassment. You finally were at a loss for words, and found it hard to look into his sharp eyes- slitted down at you, almost disappointed. But you know this is what he wants. You try fixing your gaze at the crinkle of his nose but you can’t help but fall on his plump lips. You realize you have to speak before he can tease you for your piteous attempts. 

“I said I was sorry before dinner,”

It’s pathetic when you plead for him, and he’s so glad no one can hear it from the safety of your own kelku. No one else deserves to hear this side of you. Only he gets to hear your pleas reverberate off the walls just to bounce back to his ears. 

“That was nice of you,” you finally breathe a sigh of relief thinking he’ll give in, lay you on your back and drill into you at speeds only the best warrior in the clan could achieve, “I do not forgive you,” 

Your stomach drops at his words, yet there’s a quip in his voice that puts your aching heart at ease- at least he’s not actually upset with you. Not really. Just half upset. Just upset enough to make your night long. He can tell you were worried he was truly mad at you for a second, afraid you had fallen from grace in his eyes. So he quickly lays a chase kiss to the crown of your head, running his thumbs under your waterline. He finally looks down to see the reflection of the slick you have left across his muscular thighs, and admires the dark front of his tweng. He didn’t care about anything that went on outside of your chambers. The only thing that was real to Tsu’tey is how wet his pussy gets for him. 

The sob that falls from your lips and the pleading “baby please” that falls from your lips as his hand dances to your kuru again makes him chuckle. You were the baby, useless and needy and loud. So loud. Especially loud when his hand once again wrapped around it, guiding you down so your pudgy round cheek fell flush against the woven matt of your bed. You laid across his lap now, stomach flat against his legs while he held your face to the floor. It strains your eyeballs to glance sideways to look up at him, the throbbing of your eye sockets the first round of pain you’d feel tonight. 

“Tsu’tey please, I said I was sorry. I mean it,” your tail flicks as your bare nipples rub against the fibers of the mat. 

You were flushed over the feeling of the position you were in. Yet you could only be thankful for the breeze that entered your home. The dry breeze is no doubt an indication of a coming storm but you didn’t care. Now that you were on the floor however, you could finally begin to cool off. You liked to think you were smarter than Tsu’tey (and he usually let you believe this wildly inaccurate statement) but you would accept he was smarter in this moment as he had the foresight to leave a small sliver of the tented flap open. Thankfully the breeze it let in had kept the floor cold despite the heavy haze of summer heat and arousal clinging to the air of your home. 

Your salvation is short-lived when his fingers dance across the braid of your kuru. He’s pushed the long terraces of your half loose hair above your head to expose your upper back and neck, and you’re sure you looked like a wildly unkempt beast out of the forest he spent his days in. He runs his hand down the braid to the fluffy end which makes you huff against the floor, balling your fist over your face. He tuts when your tail wraps around the hand that’s holding the now exposed nerves above you, keeping him from moving his hand (and in conjunction the exposed tswin tendrils) freely. 

“C’mon, do not start that,” 

He still has to be patient with you. You’re not ready for him to use you the way he wants yet. And he can see your wet clumpy eyelashes and it can’t help the pinch at his heart. He watches the tip of your tail tremble, but you don’t move quick enough for his liking. He hates to force your hand but you were so bullheaded that sometimes you just needed a nudge in the right direction. So he hunches forward over you, face meeting his hand to lay a soft kiss at the exposed nerves. 

You all but howl at this, and he watches your legs clench and tremble over his lap. His tail is wagging rhythmically behind him and had he not been torturing you already you’d have called him out for his lack of bodily control (and his tails assault against your already perfectly fluffed nice pillows). 

He had found success in his silent intentions however. You weren’t tense now at least. Finally enjoying the feeling of the tendrils grazing over his tongue, and you even sat well behaved in his lap while he untied the knot of your twang, letting the cold breeze finally touch your bare cunt. It only increased the hot ache between your legs, and added to the embarrassing drip from between your legs- but you couldn’t be bothered to focus too long on it because at least he was finally touching you in some way. 

“Nga yawne lu oer,” you cry to him as you feel a palm grip the pliant skin of your ass spreading you apart. 

Perhaps he’d think you were endearing and let you off of the hook like he often did. Yet with your tail wrapped around the hand holding your kuru up to his mouth there was nothing stopping him from staring down at your swollen pussy, and it only spurs him on more. He knows he’s being terribly mean to you but he also knows that you enjoy it. Despite your drawn back ears and furrowed brows your cheeks are still pulled up into a grin. 

He huffs at the sight and you can feel it shoot across your skull at the cool contact with your wildling flowing tendrils. It was a welcome distraction once his left hand rises and falls against your ass. You finally release your tails grip on his other hand, letting it fall limp against his torso. 

“I’m sorry. Please-“ you don’t even get to finish before there’s another sharp slap to your other cheek. It’s hard to feel any of the pain when he’s tongue fucking your nervous system however, and he knows this. 

“I know what you want, yawntutsyìp. You’ll get it when I am finished,” 

You try to focus on the wall of your home while his palm spanks down against you. Try to focus on the feeling of his dripping cock against your tummy in embarrassment while he mumbles something about how if you liked hitting people you could take it back. You couldn’t help but strain your eyes to glimpse at him. His stupid little smile while the tendrils of your tswin dance across the area surrounding his lips, desperately looking for his to connect to. You want to bite the stupid smirk off of his face for torturing you like this but the sight of his slightly cocked head and his hooded eyes trained directly on you invoke mercy in your tortured little heart. After a final stinging slap to your wet folds he becomes more interested in soothingly gripping your ass. You huff slightly each time he would trail his fingertips across your folds haphazardly, knowing that anything louder would have resulted in another smack. 

“Nga yawne lu oer,” he finally whispers back.

It’s silent enough that you can hear the strain in his voice. You never understood how he held such great equanimity in these situations- especially when you could hear the desperation in his voice- see it in his eyes. Though you’re wet, frustrated and becoming increasingly aware of the sting on the skin of your ass you could fall asleep with him right now. Comforted by the fact that someone had not only known you, but loved you so intensely. And with the way he was so softly caressing your folds you couldn’t help but feel soothed in his lap. At least that’s what you thought until he taps his fingers against your cunt again, the dull pop echoing in the silent room. 

“Tey,” you bark, eyes shooting open, jolting slightly, “you’re going to kill me,”

“Never,” he bends rather uncomfortably to kiss your spine, “C’mon paskalin, spin ‘round for me,” 

His hand did not leave your kuru, not since he had grabbed its end. You surprisingly have a fight left in you; enough at least to make a coquettish show of sitting up on your knees for him, and sitting yourself between his legs. You are finally faced with the state of your mate, and your tweng that he was now tossing away from your nest of linen and pillows neither of you had made when you left this morning. 

You can’t help but cringe at the state he has put you in- he’s still clothed and you’re naked, and you’ve left a mess on him despite barely being touched. How could you be so absolutely absorbed in him? You should have chosen someone less attractive. Or someone who didn’t kiss you as sweetly as he did, so sweetly that you can sit back on the heels of your feet and the warmth of your stinging bottom didn’t bother you. Instead your thumbs run over his handsome strong cheeks, grinning at him. 

“Are you alright?” 

You don’t get to answer because he spins you around forcing you to crane your body to continue looking at him. He sounds as sweet as he kisses you. He’s so sincere in his asking that the “Find out,” that falls from your lips sounds mean in comparison. It’s not your fault you’re snippy, to think he’s left you unconnected to him since the early hours of the morning is criminal. 

Tsu’tey is never forceful with you, he doesn’t need to use force. Eywa knows with his 9’2 form and dangerous muscles he could push you forward into an arch. Yet, Tsu’tey had a natural air of authority that left you winded. It didn’t matter how stubborn you felt, when he looked down at you and began guiding you gently with his hand that was it- with a fluttery stomach you would do it. 

He would love you even if you were the hissing spoiled monster you would pretend to be. But he can’t help the fact that he loves you the most when you behave for him. The pretty show you made of laying down for him and grant him the bliss of being face to face with your sloppy, pretty pussy was surely the best behaved you had been all day so he ought to tell you-

“That’s my good girl,” he finally connects your tswin to his with no warning. Finally the cool rush shoots up your skull, casting over your face in a tantalizing buzz. For a split second the air in your nose wasn’t yours, and the throbbing across your skin did not belong to you. 

He pulls your arch back by your tail, laying a chase kiss on your folds, the cruel overstimulation of an almost simultaneous assault on the most sensitive parts of your exhausted body. At least he’s merciful to not pick on you for the groan that escapes your lips. It’s almost unbecoming of you, guttural and feral. It’s quickly replaced with a squeal when he begins to lick up your folds. You can only press your cheek to his calf, and clutch your fingers around his leg while he assaults your cunt with his tongue.

“Fuck,” 

He learned the word from Jake, and said it entirely too much now. Practically mumbling curses as he shoves his face impossibly deep into you. If you didn’t feel moist and sticky before it’s only accumulating at an alarming pace now. Tsu’tey is sloppy with it, unlike everything he does Tsu’tey can’t keep that composer once he’s actually face to face with his pussy. He enjoys fucking his spit into you with the pointed end of his tongue until it twitches and you start to drip back out into his mouth. He can’t stop himself from angling your hips with one of his large hands, while the other hikes you up higher by the tail which gives him the luxury of wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, wanting to swallow as much of the yovu sweetness of your cunt as you’d allow him to. 

You can’t say you feel bad for the mess you leave anymore, not when you can’t even bring yourself to moan about how good you feel. And your dazed heavy breathing wasn’t enough sound for Tsu’tey. You had made his day long, he was going to make your night longer. Unbearably long like the pointer and middle finger that slides into your silk folds with no resistance. He figured he could have used all three and you wouldn’t have complained too much, and now that he himself can feel the dull thud of his fingertips against the spongy wall of your cunt he wouldn’t stop. He moves so quickly, embarrassingly so as he can feel what you’re feeling, he knows how to ruin you and you can no longer hide your lack of resolve. 

“‘Tey I wanna cum,” 

Your voice is cracking as you huff out, biting into his calf whilst he speeds his intrusion up. What an embarrassing position. If anyone walked into the door of your home the first sight they’d be greeted with would be Tsu’tey sitting straight up against the walls that met the corner of your comfort ridden bed, legs lazily outspread caging you on your stomach, back arched right in front of his face while he watched your sloppy cunt take his fingers, often leaning down to lick, suck, and kiss wherever he can. 

“Ya?” He finally removes his mouth from you, still pistoling his two fingers at speeds you thought were sacrilegious, “You wanna cum on my face?” 

It’s embarrassing when you squeal, even more embarrassing when his third finger finally slides in. Between yanking you back by your tail onto his assaulting fingers, and the heavy panting of his breath fanning across your swollen lips you can’t help but orgasm. Hips jutting forward and ruining your rhythm. An act which should have annoyed him further, however, when his pretty lady is nice enough to squirt all over his face he can’t help the love sick moan that rips through his chest, 

“Ya that’s my baby, all you’re good for,” 

It leaves his mouth as his fingers start to slow down, you weren’t even holding yourself up anymore, chest pressed firmly into the floor while he held your hips in the air. Too busy breathing as your heart skips in your chest to hold your own body weight. There is still embarrassingly loud and slopping wet noises coming from you as his fingers had never stopped slowly finger fucking you. 

By the lack of any discernible sound around your expertly woven home you knew others had heard you at some point and decided to avoid the area around your home all together. You couldn’t give your mate anything in all of Pandora that could get him to care. 

You reach your soft hand between your legs to grab at his wrist, digging your nails into him and he can’t help the twitch of his cock at the sting. He sharply scissors the two fingers that now preoccupied themselves in slowly keeping you stretched open as he preoccupied himself with the sight of you. 

“Stop- stop looking- you’re embarrassing,”

“Ya you should be embarrassed, you should see the mess you have made,” 

You can hear the smile in his voice and you can’t stop the mewl that falls from your lips at the way he teases you. You don’t need to see the mess to know it’s there, the back of your legs are uncomfortably wet, and your leaking cunt is throbbing. You know he watched everything you had to show him greedily. That everytime you connect to him for the next week you’ll get the view of you squirting for him pushed to the front of your mind as if it was your own memory. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, only for him to lay a chaste kiss to you one more time, you can feel the smile on his face.

He knows neither of you mean this, it’s almost silly that you both put on this charade. He still thinks it’s cute you are at least still polite enough to apologize. It doesn’t save you from the quick grab of your leg and hip. It’s surprising how gently you land on your back, considering the speed he flips you over at. You don’t yelp because it hurts, but because it startles you. One second you were looking at the wall, the next you’re on your back, gazing up to meet the exhilarated eyes of Tsu’tey. And now that you can see him without straining your eye sockets you want nothing more than to cum again. 

You’re sprawled out on your back, and he is above you perched up on his knees now- looming over you as if he had just shot an arrow into you- as if he was your last shadow. You can’t help but clench around nothing, missing the stretch of his fingers so terribly at this moment. Fingers that are now untying the far thicker fabric of his tweng. Not that it’s hiding much of anything at this point. He’d grown past it, tip flushed indigo and leaking violently. It looks like he had probably came once already without you noticing, had he really made you that oblivious?

He falls forward on his hands once he’s done, and your eyes snap up to meet his. He lacks his usual authoritative aura in this moment, his pupils dopey and wide as his form engulfs you. If feral was an unbecoming look on you, Tsu’teys wide lovesick eyes was unbecoming for him. He’d lie and blame it on your neurolink- he’s only a love drunk fool this way- but he more often than not felt this way. You in some mystical way had bewitched him in his entirety. He doesn’t kiss you, opting to rub his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you. 

“You’re not sorry, this is what you wanted,” 

His smile is huge against you. You can feel his cut cheekbones rising as you try to peek between your forms. You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing him above you. You can’t help but tense at the sight of him. He hates himself when your jolt of genuine panic shoots down his own spine and his cock twitches. After all of this time he still intimidated you. How could he not? At nine foot two, it was fair to assume Tsu’tey’s cock was nothing if not admirable. He had been a talking point amongst women on many occasions, you and your friends had surely spoken about the older boy before you had mated. You knew however that any girlish gossip had been an understatement. His ears twitch forward as his props himself back up slightly, 

“No answer for me, huh? Jus’ going to stare dumb at my cock?” 

He spoke too regally for the nasty words that fell out of his mouth. He’s quick to kiss the pouty lips you give him as your eyes slit and your brow furrows, you’re small “Shut up,” only fuel to edge him on. It’s cute; you’re already spent by him. You of all people don’t have a quip of an answer for him. You barely even complain when his right palm meets behind your knee, sliding your leg over his shoulder as he posture’s up on his knees slightly. You start to sit up on your elbows when you feel the dull- plap, plap, plap- of him smacking the tip of himself against your clit. You watch his body jolt along with you as he could feel how his intrusion made you feel and though the pleasurable stinging of the intrusion subdued you, it seemed to only spur Tsu’tey on more. 

Your body moves without you really thinking, trying to slide yourself backwards, further away from the man and the puddle you’ve been laying in. A desperate attempt to keep his hips away from yours. 

“Nuh- uh,” he’s quick to sush you, grabbing your fleshy hips and dragging your weeping cunt back towards him, “Why are you running away from your cock, huh?”

He’s rubbing himself between your folds, catching on your still swollen clit and relishing in the feeling of your muscles spasming. The liquid that escapes doesn’t bother you anymore, but you watch it begin to coat his lower stomach. Skin sticking uncomfortably. 

“It doesn’t fit,” you’re dramatic, and he’s sure to remind you. 

“It fits every time,” He finally snags the hole, and feels the coil of your stomach tighten in his own. So pleased with your reaction he can’t stop his moan. Finally what he’s wanted all fucking day.

“I’ll make it fit, shh, there you go yawntu,” 

He is large enough that he can sit on his knees, one hand next to your head, supporting his weight while he hunches over you. He could have been mean and made you suffer through a tight and slow stretch, or he could mess with you one final time. Could he really waste such a slick state? No. Not when his pretty pussy was begging for the weight of him. You all but scream at the quick trust of his full-lengthen intrusion, and he can’t help but whine at the feeling of finally being seethed inside of his mate, as well as enduring the delicious feelings you were. He was confident you didn’t even acknowledge the neurolink at this time, too busy stupid over how good he’s made you feel. 

“Tsu’tey,” and you're grasping at the bottom of his own stomach, pushing your palms into him as he slowly pulls out, pushing back in as far as your hands would allow him. 

There’s already a milky ring accumulating at his base and he’s barely moved. He does not thrust haphazardly, yet the control he possesses is finite. You can feel him bubbling on the edge of ferocity as the muscles of his lower stomach twitch under your fingertips. He is not a man that blushes often but the sight of your watery, wide, and ever so wondrous eyes has his neck and chest flushing deeply as well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his ears so purple. 

“Oh fuck! Eywa!” The kick up of pace has you forgetting your previous adoration, too distracted with his face to notice he had propped himself up on the balls of his feet as to better his angle.

Though you couldn’t deny the ache in your cunt at the weight of his girth or the tightening of your stomach due to another impending orgasm it couldn’t be something you focused on. This wasn’t really painful. Pressure perhaps- but none of that mattered over the electrifying buzz that had begun to grow so intense that your lungs felt locked. 

Are you filthy for watching the assault on your cunt as he grabs your right thigh with a huff, forcing your leg to slot comfortably on his shoulder? Now that you had one leg hitched over his broad shoulders you both had an unimpeded view of his cock disappearing into you only to bulge the skin above your pelvis at the force of his obtrusion. Once he moves his weight off of his freed hand to meet your clitoris you can’t help but relax deeper into his thrusts. 

The spray of liquid that follows and shoots up covering your reddening chests enunciated the slapping sound echoing between your bodies. You weren’t even sure if you were cumming anymore or your overstimulated cunt was just releasing everything it could for him, 

“See baby. Always take care of you,” 

His face is rubbing against yours, as he reaches down to hold your tsaheylu. Running his thumb across where the two braids meet. He relishes in the feeling as one of your hands grab at his head, gripping the braids of his hair while he drilled into you. 

“Y-you’re so good. Tsu-“ You cut yourself off at his words in regards to running your own fingers over your abused clit-

“Did you ask to touch my pussy?” 

Though there’s a snarl in the voice of the man whose face is mushed up against yours his thrusts become more powerful. 

“Tsu’tey please- for Ewyas sake you’ve made your point,” the squeal is in your throat as you continue to rub- he never stopped you and you had never implored self control before, this is not the time to start. 

“Please, I want to cum on your cock so bad,” 

You finally look into his blown out eyes now. There’s barely any yellow to be seen. Just the messy appearance of your reflection in his huge pupils. You can feel something snap in him as you suddenly feel both of your legs get pinned down against your torso. It almost knocks the wind out of you, the feeling of being moved so suddenly. Folded in such a demanding way and then your guts getting drilled into by the man above you. Of course your hand doesn’t falter though- he had been treating you like a whore he should expect you to act like one. 

“Look how fucking wet you are,” He starts, it’s a dangerous whisper, “You’re gonna make another mess for Sempu?” 

It’s embarrassing. The fact that the only words to leave your mouth after his vulgarities are a very pretty “Oh Eywa,” followed by your doey eyes rolling into the back of your pretty head. Daddy. You had called him it before but something about his blown out eyes locked onto your own as if he can see nothing else but you, letting the title fall off his own swollen lips had you reeling, hips trying to jerk under his assault, hand jerking messy, tight, circles on your own clit. 

You don’t even know if you squirt this time, too busy alternating between clenching though your orgasm and pushing down, listening to his guttural moaning in your ear as he once again hunches down over you a little more. 

“Fuck, please ‘s too much. Sempu please, w-want you-” You don’t even know what you want. You’re too busy spasming on his cock. 

Praying maybe he’ll pop out for a second so you can catch your breath. Despite your newest orgasm Tsu’tey does not stop his assault. Only now more of his body weight falls into you. Using the momentum to drill deeper into you. It’s too much, your feelings on top of the tight painful pit in his stomach. He wants to cum so badly. 

“Let me cum in you,” it’s almost a beg, almost a plea to you. He needed to hear from you that you were satisfied. That he could breed you full and you’d finally be satisfied with all he does for you. 

You cup both of his cheeks in your now unused hands, and despite the ache in your contorted body you can’t help the wave of relaxation that teases you when you make eye contact, 

“Want your cum so bad, Sempu,” 

It’s embarrassing really. The way you two talk to each other like this. You would cringe at the idea of these words coming from anyone else, but you can’t help but be addicted to the sound of desperation that rises out of the both of you. 

“Fuck please breed me,” 

Though you’re choked up, at least you can speak. You are almost positive he’s brain dead when you feel his hips jerk up into you deeper then his previous thrusts. When he pushes you legs down further you’re shocked at the feeling of him grinding the head of his cock against what you could only assume was your cervix. He did not seem to care so much for your shock though, returning to sitting up more so he could watch the bulge of your stomach. 

“Ya fuck, my sweet girl,” the breathy pants against your face results in a tight clench of your lower stomach, yet with a whine you keep your legs open for him,

“Fuck baby- jus’ lay there and take it for me, there’s my good girl.” 

It’s not long before his thrusts go from a calculated assault on your g-spot to an erratic chase for his own high. It almost surprises you- the animalistic pace of his thrusts against you. The way he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slam into you, forcing the slick skin of his pelvis to grind against your far too stimulated clit. It’s why you don’t feel bad for the hand that reaches up to wrap around the base of his kuru. You could have came when you feel the way his stomach tightens when you apply pressure to him. You feel the jolt the action sends through him- and you have never been more thankful (yet felt such disdain) to Eywa for tsaheylu. Eyes rolling into the back of your head at the mind thudding euphoria you felt. 

“Look at me. Baby look at me when Sempu cums in you,” 

He’s prettiest when he whines. Despite the honorific title there is little that defines Tsu’tey as the dominant one right now. Anyone could tell he was completely at the mercy of your slicken folds. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad at you by the time he had flooded you, using his large hands to pull the plush of your hips flush against him. Unable to control the need to be as deep as possible. 

He’s purring when he notices the way your eyes light up at the feeling of him overstuffing you with his cum. Loud rumbles that you can feel vibrate against you as he lets your legs finally drop and lays flat against the floor. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Your closing eyes are being kissed, as he travels to any exposed skin he can get to, while moving as little as possible.

“I win,” your eyes don’t even open as you mumble. Too busy caressing his sweaty back that was most likely torn up from the assault of your nails. All that there was left to do was breath and enjoy the warmth of laying safely under him. Proud of the turn of events. 

Now that you weren’t actively engaged in each other the humidity of the sex stained kelku wasn't enough to keep you warm. Not with the eclipse breeze creeping through the opened flap. 

You turn your head to see your mate, forehead pressed to the mat, eyes closed, catching his own breath- yet there’s a large cheshire grin on his exertion blushed face. 

“Ya whatever. I give you everything you could want, what mate would I be if my little love suffered one night without making a sloppy mess all over me,”

        His attempt at teasing makes you laugh, occupying yourself with kissing his cheek and lingering there a minute. Ignoring the way the fat of his cheek squished under your kiss. The bubbly,

“Ya, hopefully you gave me the baby I want this time,” would have broken the resolve of Ewyas most pious. 

The roll of his hips deeper into you in hopes to plug you full makes your toes curl. He can’t help but say a silent prayer to anything that would listen that you’d be round and full soon. Tsu’tey also can’t help the fact that the feeling of your tight walls twitching and fluttering against him make him throb with a whole new need. The assault of his rolling hips is unwavering. Both completely enchanted by the uncomfortable sting of over stimulation. He could cease his slow drawn out movements that reward his ears with the sloppy echo of his cum being fucked right up into your womb where it belonged. Tsu’tey could stop and clean you up and let you fall blissfully to sleep while he held you. 

Or he could make sure you don’t roll out from under him without a deserving prize in your womb.

[sunflowerreid]

Worth the wait - S.R

Spencer has never had an orgasm before, reader helps him out

Warnings : Sub Spencer, Dom reader, Handjob, Blowjob, Masterbation, Praise kink, Swearing

Spencer had always been a mystery to you. The extraordinary genius with the IQ of 187, eidetic memory and ability to read god knows how many words per minute. There was nothing he couldn’t figure out or find a solution to, it was that simple. He was a genius, a prodigy, a miracle worker. You never would of guessed that this beautiful man was still a virgin, sure he seemed innocent enough but not that innocent, I mean come on, he was gorgeous and adorably caring who wouldn’t want to ride him for hours on end.

You’ve always had a slight feeling that he may of been more innocent than you had predicted especially when you wore a low cut top that showed just the right amount of cleavage to remain professional, or your tight trousers that sculpted your arse perfectly. Spencer was normally a lot more blushy and twitchy than usual on those days, you loved teasing him.

Today you decided to treat yourself, dressed in your black low cut top and tight grey trousers you strutted into work, armed with two cups of coffee from the local cafe and a proud smirk. Spencer was in his usual outfit looking as cute as ever, his fingers resting on his lips as he worked through his paperwork at his usual 60 mph speed. “Morning Spence” you said with a hint of amusement, ready for when his adorable eyes would predictably widen at your outfit choice. “Morning y/n” he said shyly as he squirmed in his seat, his eyes widening slightly as you leaned down to place his cup on the unusually clean desk. “T-thank you, you didn’t have to do that”, could he get any cuter you thought to yourself. “No problem Spence always got you covered” you smirked as you walked away over to your desk, you had the perfect view of him from across the bureau as he fidgeted in his seat.

All day you’d spent stalking him, well not stalking per say more observing his every move to see if you had your usual effect on him. Spencer had a new record going, he made it all the way to lunch time before he ran off to the bathroom, presumably to cool off. He returned to his seat next to you for lunch, resuming his stiff posture and blushing cheeks. You loved your job for many reasons, this just happened to be the best one.

-Three days later-

“Do you want to shower first Spence?” You asked as you opened the door to your shared room, “No that’s okay you can go first” he said kindly as he followed you in. God he couldn’t get any sweeter could he. “Alright I wont be too long” you replied with a smile as you went into the attached bathroom, accidentally forgetting your body lotion and only noticing after spending 10 minutes in the shower. Dripping wet with a small towel wrapped around your flushed figure, you slowly opened the door a crack noticing the pretty boy waiting patiently on his bed. “Spence could you get my body lotion out of my bag please I forgot it” you asked sweetly startling him out of his daydream. “Y-yes of course y/n” quickly jumping off the bed, he made his way over to your bag, gently rooting through it trying not to unravel your neat packing. He stiffened slightly as he reached the layer containing your white lace panties, gaining his usual blush and nervous stutter as he reached the bottom of your bag grabbing the lotion and hurrying over to the door to hand it to you. “Thank you sweetie”.

Spencer squirmed on his bed, the intense throbbing in his slacks clouding his thoughts as he palmed himself slightly, sighing in relief at the blissful friction. Unfortunately for him, you had chosen that moment to open the bathroom door dressed in an oversized t shirt and the black lace panties that matched the white pair. Spencer quickly took his hand off his bulge praying you didn’t notice the dumb pleasure filled look on his beet red face. “Showers free sweetie” you said with a hint of amusement as he scurried around the room collecting his things before rushing into the bathroom. You lied down on your bed attempting to untuck the hotel sheets that were practically glued to the mattress fidgeting around for a few minutes before giving up. Your internal struggle had masked the whimpering noises coming from the bathroom, little grunts and moans “cmon please just once just once please” you heard Spencer whisper as you approached the door “please I need it please cmon cmon” he whimpered in a desperate tone before you heard a loud groan of frustration. Spencer was touching himself that much was obvious to you but the frustration was surprising, normally wanking was a therapeutic, relaxing a way of relieving stress. “You okay sweetie?” You shouted when you had returned to your bed, not wanting him to know you’d been listening. You heard what you assumed was a shampoo bottle crashing against the bottom of the shower before a simple, squeaky “Yep everything’s fine”. Silence followed for another 5 minutes before Spencer shyly opened the door dressed in a pair of tartan pyjama bottoms and a simple black t shirt, quickly making his way over to the bed before untucking the sheets effortlessly. Show off.

The room was silent after you turned off the lights and said an awkward good night to each other. You couldn’t help feeling sorry for him as he tossed and turned quietly, he was a 23 year old man of course he got horny, you’d been teasing him non stop since you arrived at the bau sending his hormones haywire what did you expect. “If you want some time to sort yourself I can go to Garcia’s room for a little bit sweetie” you whispered into the dark room. “N-no that’s okay y/n, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed, I’m sorry for earlier I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” he said shyly, “Nonsense sweetie you have needs like the rest of us”, receiving a small sarcastic laugh from him you could tell he was embarrassed, of course he was he’d been caught wanking himself off, reaching the same miserable conclusion that he normally got. You knew something was off, normally he’d been throwing facts and statistics at you, his way of coping when he’s nervous. “I promise it’s no trouble Spence” “T-thank you y/n it’s okay, I’m okay, not like it would solve anything anyway” he whispered, the end barley audible. “Sweetie I thought you of all people would know the benefit of masturbating” you said teasingly, “O-oh I’m aware of the benefits if you can achieve-” he cleared his throat slightly before carrying on “an orgasm” he whispered shyly. “If?” You questioned. “Spence have you never… you know?” You asked him gently no wanting to embarrass him further. “Um I mean.. I’ve tried I guess but no not while i was awake anyway”, “Oh sweetie that’s okay, nothing to be embarrassed about” you reassured. You couldn’t feeling both horny and sympathetic at the same time, imagining him trying and trying to cum the desperation he must feel to experience the relief that practically everyone else his age can, including you.

You finally gained enough courage to ask him the question, if he rejected you that would be okay right? You’d get over it but you couldn’t help feeling that he liked you the same way you like him. “Spence if you’d like some help all you have to do is ask”, “R-really?”, “Yes sweetie if you’d like that” you could hear the sheets of his bed rustling as he leant over to turn the lights back on, revealing his blushed face, his desperation clear as day as you sat up leaning against the headboard. “Please, please help me”. That was all the conformation you needed.

Signalling him over, he quickly untangled himself from the sheets quickly making his way over to you, unsure what to do next. You sat up onto your knees reaching for him as you tangled your hand into his damp hair and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. “Fuck please” he whimpered into the kiss as he straddled your thighs, his excitement pushing against you and he began gently rutting himself down onto you, encouraged by your other hand guiding his movements. You figured he had been teased enough when you felt his cock beginning to twitch under his pyjamas, constant whimpers flowed out of him as you guided him down to lie on his back, his cock tenting the material of his bottoms. “Please please do something y/n it hurts” he whined before gasping in relief as you pulled down his pyjamas and boxers at the same time, his cock springing up and hitting his tummy with a wet slap. “Fuck so pretty for me sweetie”, his cock twitched at your words, red, throbbing and leaking a steady flow of precum from the tip. You quickly took it into your hand, pumping him slowly from base to tip your hand slicked up as more precum spurted out of his slit as you pinched it open slightly “Fuck yes” he shouted, the relief evident on his face as you began to speed up your hand, moans flowing out of him after every passing of your palm. “Please yes fuck feels so good s’good more please more” Spencer babbled as he throbbed in your palm, “More, need more, please, please y/n, god yes feels so good, right there” he whined as you teased him red, swollen tip. “Feels so much better than my hand, please keep going please, wanna cum for you, need to cum” he begged as he felt his orgasm teasing him, the same feeling he always left with after trying and failing to cum by himself. You could tell he was getting close, his loud moans turning frantic, the erratic rutting of his hips as he humped up towards your hand. His eyes began to roll back into his head, his back arching before the pleasure stopped. “NO please no y/n, please keep going i need it please” he begged, tears streaming down his face as you took your hand off.

“Calm down sweetie its okay, I’m gonna give you something better okay sweetheart” you reassured him before replacing your hand with your mouth, his hands immediately went to your hair holding on for dear life. “Fuck yes” Spencer moaned as your tongue traced the veins on the side of his cock moving up to tease his slit before you put his tip into your mouth sucking gently “GOD YES” he screamed as you moaned, the vibrations causing him to shake, twitch, beg. “Fuck something’s happening, wait wait” he whined as he tried to push your head off, “Please y/n think mgonna wee feels like its gonna happen please no no” he begged as you carried on aware of what was about to happen, before pulling off “It’s okay sweetie your gonna cum for me okay that’s what it feels like don’t be worried I’m right here, let go for me sweetie okay”, “Fuck yes, gonna mgonna cum y/n, so close, please don’t stop, please mgonna gonna…..” he screamed as his back arched, eyes rolled back, reaching his end, finally after years of trying and failing he was cumming. “Yes god yes m’cumming y/n” he shouted as he spurted rope after rope of cum onto your tongue, cock twitching relentlessly as you milked him for all he was worth. “Fuckk” he moaned, his entire body twitching as you held him in your arms allowing him to recover from his high. “Hope that was worth it sweetie” you said gently to the a nearly asleep Spencer. “Was definitely worth the wait” he gently muttered into your neck as you stroked his hair and rubbed up and down his back, the calming actions sending him to sleep.

[inoreuct]

I'm loving your drabbles and headcanons so much, esp the hurt/comforty things, thank u for blessing my dash😭❤ if you felt like it, zoro and Sanji x how they would help the other through having a panic attack

aaaaaaa thank you anon! hurt/comfort all day every day 😔🤌🏼LESGO

sanji definitely has them more i think, considering the fuckton of things he’s gone through; not that zoro hasn’t been through some shit but you get my point. sanji had panic attacks as a kid back when he was in the cells in germa. to a certain extent i would say he's used to his body breaking down, so much so that he's learned to hide it very well. a slight increase in breathing, a little more twitchy with his gaze, maybe a very slightly bouncing leg; imperceptible to the normal person.

BUT. zoro is so attuned to him that he notices almost immediately, especially after they get together and he's paying even more attention. the first time, he's confused; sanji seems stressed. those are subtle signs of distress, but... there's no immediate threat around them that zoro can see. nevertheless he takes the cook's wrist and pulls him through a random door with one thumb ready on wado's hilt, asks him what's wrong—

and sanji breaks down. they're in the dark, quiet stockroom of some apothecary; if it had been anyone other than zoro with him he would have tried to hold it together, but zoro is fine. zoro is safe. he slides to the ground and curls up into a ball, hugging his legs to his chest and burying his face in his kneecaps even as he hears the swordsman's noise of concern. he's trembling all over, breath spiralling out of control and fuck, he doesn't even know what set him off— just that he'd started feeling smothered, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck, and then zoro had pulled him back here.

zoro's brain stalls a little. he'd seen some of the older kids at the orphanage struggle with this; panic attacks, shimotsuki sensei had told him, were not uncommon in people who had endured long periods of stress or trauma. but he'll think about the semantics later.

zoro has to ask three times, each increasingly desperate, if he can touch before sanji gives him a jerky nod; the cook's shoulders are hunched up to his ears, nails biting into his arms in a bid to ground himself, and zoro can't stand the thought of him hurting more than he already is— so he gently takes sanji's wrists as he crouches down, unwrapping his arms and sitting properly so that he can pull sanji close.

the cook shudders as he clambers into zoro's lap, graceless and hurried, hands slipping under zoro's arms to grip at his shoulders and zoro lets him cling, presses a hand to sanji's nape and the other to his spine, shifts so that his own back is against the wall.

they sit there for a long time on the stockroom floor. zoro isn't good at this, he thinks. at comfort. he tries anyway, sifts his hands through sanji's flaxen hair as he talks about everything and nothing at all, mindless murmurs as he feels tears dampen the side of his throat where sanji has decided to hide. sanji lets out a shaky breath, fingertips digging into zoro's muscle, and zoro can feel the cook's heart beating out a slowing tattoo against his own chest. his slacks are twisted around the ankle, rucked up above his stupid fancy loafers. zoro smooths them down as sanji pulls back and curls up sideways.

he is loathe to break the silence, but he asks anyway. "everything okay, cook?"

"...yeah," sanji breathes, seeming to deflate as zoro presses a kiss to his crown. "yeah, i'm good." he leans into the arm around his back and tucks his nose against zoro's collarbone, closing his eyes. zoro doesn't move and he won't until sanji wants to leave.

after that first time, zoro kind of gets it down to a routine. when sanji's about to have a panic attack he gets the cook to a quiet, dark space, sits down and talks him through it; it helps sanji to know where he is, who he is, who he's with. a lot of the times he gets set off because something tripped a memory from his past, and it rockets him right back into his childhood. sanji hates it; hates the hold that it all still has on him, but zoro is VERY insistent that his getting through it all, unscathed or otherwise, is something to be proud of.

sanji's always shaken after panic attacks, no matter how much he brushes it off. when they get back to the ship zoro bundles him up in blankets and brings him hot tea; it's a direct opposite of how he was treated back in germa. it helps. they already share a bunk most nights anyway, but on these nights especially zoro makes sure to really hold sanji close, lets the cook arrange him however he wants before they fall asleep because it's the least he can do.

it irks him. the fact that he can't fight something that's in sanji's own head, that he isn't the best at handling these types of situations— but sanji refuses to have anyone other than him for the time being, so he does what he can.

(to sanji, it's more than enough.)

now, zoro. i don't think he gets panic attacks often, but only because his body's kind of in a constant state of alert; he is so focused on being ready to fight, so high-strung, that he doesn't even have the chance to slack and slip into one.

however i think a breaking point would be if the crew was in any sort of perilous situation and he couldn't do anything to help. shit goes down and everybody's alive but he gets back to the ship and it all hits him at once.

sanji finds him sitting eerily still on the bench in the crow's nest. his leg would be bouncing but he's always had incredible awareness of and control over his body, and right now he has himself in an iron grip. his breathing is fast and laboured and his gaze is burning a hole into a spot on the wall— and sanji hovers for a second because it looks like zoro would fly apart at a single poke.

he recognises the symptoms even if they're locked down tighter than a sprung mousetrap. he climbs up gently but obviously enough that he knows zoro will notice, keeps his footsteps soft but lets his soles brush across the floor. zoro inhales sharply when sanji lays a tentative hand on his shoulder and the cook nearly pulls back, but he gives zoro a firm squeeze and sits down next to him.

they don't do much, just sitting there with their shoulders and knees pressed together, and sanji waits because he knows he can't push this no matter how much he wants to and god does he want to. his fingers twist discreetly into the covers on his free side. he wants to pull zoro to his chest and rub his back and show him that everything's alright. he needs zoro to show something other than stone-faced calm, about as convincing as a plaster mask. he needs zoro to not bottle everything in but he will not push, he won't, so he sits there and bites at the inside of his cheek.

eventually the weight on his shoulder slowly grows heavier. zoro reaches for his hand, tentative, trembling, and sanji nearly yells a prayer to whatever god he doesn't believe in. he leans over to pull zoro down and lies on his back on the bench, letting the swordsman curl around him and smoothing his palm over zoro's tense spine.

zoro's exhale is shaky. his fingers grip at sanji's shirt so tightly that the threads strain, his torso laying across sanji's stomach like a shield. sanji shifts down a little when he realises zoro's trying to get to his heartbeat; he sighs when the swordsman's palms bracket his ribcage, ear pressed above his sternum, earrings warming from being pressed against skin.

sanji rubs a thumb over zoro's hairline, kneading into his tense temples. "wanna come down for dinner?" he asks quietly, face soft as tired grey eyes peer up at him. "bet they're all waiting for you."

he knows that zoro needs proof that they're all alright. a night in the galley with gentle hands and bandages and soft laughter would do him some good. cake, if their nakama want, and spiked hot chocolate all around.

zoro grunts, burying his face back into sanji's stomach, and sanji takes that as a later. maybe a soon, if he's lucky; he needs to talk franky into giving this bench seat cushions. a soft huff ruffles zoro's hair, and sanji smooths it back into place.

they go down much, much later. sanji's spine is aching and he knows zoro feels bad about it from the palm that kneads at his lower back, but he doesn't really mind. luffy's indignance at missing dinner is mollified when sanji bakes a massive red velvet cake. nobody notices when he slips zoro an extra slice and gets a soft squeeze around the waist as thanks.

[kaisfruit]

junkrat x lucio wholesome hcs PLEEAASEEE PLEASE PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏

Boombox (Junkrat x Lucio) Wholesome HCs

A/N: IK THIS SAYS ANON BUT THIS IS MY BFF YALL THX U FOR REQUESTING POOKIE ILY <333 also this just kinda turned into boombox hcs in general im srry qwq warnings: junkrat is his own warning that's it

I'm just in love with them. I need to get over that first before I type ANYTHING

anyways-

Lucio staying up with Junkrat when Jamison is really into whatever he's working on at the moment

To be honest, seeing Lucio get tired makes him feel a bit bad and it ends with them both going to bed bc it's okay if Jamie is sleep deprived but it can't be his fault that Lucio is as well. That won't do at all!

And i see a lot of ppl being like "Lucio helps calm Jamie down <3"

BFFR

Lucio is an enabler.

Junkrat: BABE! WANNA SEE HOW MANY BOMBS IT TAKES FOR ME TO PASS OUT FROM SMOKE INHALATION? <3

Lucio: Hell yeah. Lemme get my phone

No one else is allowed to find the video funny tho

That's right. Lucio def notices how everyone in OW treats Jamie (idc im projecting here. WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN TO HIM IDC IF HE'S A CRIMINAL HE'S FUNNY)

DVa can maybe find it a bit funny, but that's cuz she gets BFF privileges

Lucio constantly hitting Junkrat with the "hold on, this song reminds me of you-"

Eventually he just makes a whole playlist

Junkrat has it blasting constantly in his workshop

That or he has every song by Lucio on shuffle

Now, Jamison's,,,talent,,, is a bit harder to show affection with

It took Lucio a long time to really grasp Jamie's love language, but now he knows that 99% of the time that Junk's bombs towards him are romantic

The other 1% are accidents and Lucio is the only person Junkrat apologizes to

He doesn't even do that for Roadhog, so this is a very rare honor

Junkrat is so on board with Lucio being a freedom fighter

"HELL YEAH! fuck the government! down with the enforcer! BLOW THEM UP!"

The enthusiasm is much appreciated, but Lucio does have to explain in detail what he's really fighting for

Junkrat's chaotic nature is just on board with anything

And, despite being the resident yapper of overwatch, he really does like listening to lucio telling him abt things he wasn't aware of while being in Australia

Lucio's telling him so ofc it has GOT to be important, yk?

Sorry this is all just such word vomit. They're my two mains and I just....love them both sm i cant

They're just such a chaotic duo together

Like yeah, Lucio is a pretty chill guy but god does Jamison bring out the worst in him sometimes. They're perfect for eachother

On the rare occasion, Lucio can get Junkrat to settle down long enough for cuddles <3 ofc the lad is still a bit twitchy but it helps him realize that maybe this isn't so bad

Lucio shows Junkrat a kind of love Jamison has never seen before and Junkrat helps Lucio learn that it's okay to lose his cool sometimes

They just compliment each other so well

TL;DR Lucio and Junkrat are so good for each other I will throw hands over this

[oleander-nin]

Apologizes if this request is a bit vague. But maybe 2018 TMNT. You can pick whatever character you think best suits the scenario. Just head canons about y/n having an over active nose. (Examples include: nose twitching and/or scrunching) If it's too vague of a request I understand not doing it.

A/N: THANK YOU! I've wanted someone to request something for so long! And I literally love this, It's so cute! I really liked it, so I did all four. Sorry they're all so short and it took so long, I haven't had the best week. I hope it's satisfactory though.(Thank you for adding the examples, my first assumption was reader sneezed a lot.) Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Words: 927

Summary: Rottmnt boys have an S/O with a very twitchy nose.

Mikey: 

The first time he noticed it was when you were baking together.

You were measuring out the dry ingredients while Mikey was mixing in the eggs.

He couldn’t help but stare, your concentrated face was adorable and you seemed so determined to get the measurements exactly right.

And then your nose twitched.

Face scrunched up, moving back and forth between the bowl and the bag of flour beside you, pushing the extra flour back into the bag with the dull edge of a butter knife.

He had never seen you so focused, admiring you from his spot on the middle island.

You must’ve sensed his staring because you look up at him a few moments later.

Nose twitching as the flour dust rises around you, eyes trained on Mikey as you try to figure out why he’s staring so intently. He never told you, deciding to keep it to himself.

After that day, he continued to notice whenever your nose twitched, his eyes seemed to fixate on it every time.

He finds it adorable, figuring out what triggers different twitches and using them to his advantage. Does your face scrunch up in concentration when you play video games? Well now you both just have to have daily matches.

Likes to draw you with your scrunched up face, noting that it happens when you're happy or focused. He just finds it cute.

Donnie:

Was one of the first things he noticed about you. 

He was watching you play poker with Raph, both of you starting trying your best to keep your faces straight. When you spoke, trying to slyly convince Raph you had the upper hand, your nose twitched.

Donnie wrote it off at first, assuming there was dust in the air and he needed to check the air filters he had set up, but it happened just about every time you lied. 

He was pleasantly surprised to find this tell of yours, content with knowing you wouldn’t be able to lie to him.

As you grew closer, he was able to differentiate between different nose twitches, memorizing how your face scrunched up in disgust at certain textures, how your nose flared when Leo was starting to get on your nerves.

It made dealing with your emotions a lot easier when he could see them. He loved this little quirk of yours, hoping you never found out why he just studies your face so often.

He likes to keep you close and just listen to you talk, watching your facial expressions and little nose twitches while you tell him about your day.

If you ever ask about his staring, he just gives some non-committal answer. Not only does he want to keep up his bad-boy image, but he also doesn’t want you to figure out how to train your expressions. Then his upper hand would be taken away.

Raph:

Didn’t notice for a long time, but once he did, he assumed you just had allergies or something. He’d carry around tissues just in case a twitch turned into a sneeze, not wanting you to be left with a runny nose. He’d offer you allergy medicine and try to get rid of any unwanted dust, never wanting you to be uncomfortable down in the lair.

Once he realized it was just a normal you thing, he relaxed a little, no longer hounding Donnie about the air filters and such.

Finds it cute now that he isn’t constantly worried you're allergic to everything.

If you ever mention his chasm, he mentions your nose scrunches. Is happy to have something you can both mutually tease each other about.

Defends you if Leo makes fun of it though. Will not tolerate Leo’s BS when it comes to you, especially if you're sensitive or insecure about it.

Just stares with a soft smile whenever you go on a rant and your nose starts acting up, he thinks it just adds to your charm.

Will just make silly faces at you randomly, trying to copy your nose scrunches. Loves when you make silly faces back at him.

All in all, he just thinks it’s a cute little thing you do.

Leo:

Holy cow, prepare to be teased.

Also notices it right away, but unlike Donnie, he instantly points it out.

Finds it cute and goofy, immensely enjoying the way your nose twitches as you go about your day.

Will tease you about it, but will not make fun of you. Like, if your nose starts twitching as you talk, he will add sound effects to it, but he won’t outright make fun of it.

If you’re insecure about it, he will tone down the teasing and compliment you more often, feeling bad he might’ve had a hand in your insecurity.

If you are both into heavy teasing, borderline bullying, he will absolutely compare it to Raph’s chasm and rag you about it every time you are having a teasing fight. It’s okay though, you just make fun of his bald head and lack of fingers. Sure wish you could play an instrument, huh Leo. 

Will fight anyone else who makes fun of you though. That’s his thing.

Starts copying it subconsciously, his snout starting to scrunch up a little more as he talks. His brothers tease him for it. They are less kind about it. It’s not his fault he just wants to be more like you.

Like Mikey, he tries to find what triggers certain twitches and purposefully puts you in a position where your face scrunches.

Loves your little twitchy nose.

02.24.23

[delopsia]

*whispers* please ignore this if you’re busy or still laying down

💐🥺💐

i just... del, what do you think would happen if reader and robby really did actually lay rhett down in their bed (with lots of kisses) and strap a little vibrator to the head of his cock and then just sat back to enjoy the show?

*whispers* you can't just tell me to ignore a prompt like this.

I made the mistake of reading this right after I reread my babbling about Rhett and the spreader bar and for some reason I?? Unintentionally combined part of that with this 😭oops.

My mind ran in like fifteen different directions with this, and one way or another, I wound up with a bonus rambling about how Rhett, Bob, and Reader broke in that particular piece of equipment...I dunno if you'd consider that a bonus or a curse, but it's at the bottom 💃here we go

The way in which sweet Rhett would be so nervous at first, a little tense over the idea of being watched but into it at the same time. Freezing up the moment Robby has finished tugging his jeans down his legs, only loosening up when they both start kissing on his cheeks and lips, and everywhere they can reach. Rhett so wrapped up in the feeling of the Reader's lips against his that he doesn't notice they're gingerly laying him back onto the bed.

It takes some adjusting because the moment that little vibrator kicks on, Rhett's pawing at it and squeezing his pretty thighs closed. Cuffing his hands to the bedpost does absolutely nothing to stop his frantic squirming. Hair spread out in a loose halo beneath his head, chest heaving, legs thrashing, whimpering to high heaven as that tiny pink vibrator buzzes away at his cock head.

"Fuck, fuck fuck, this—hah!" Rhett's babbling, his head bobbing back and forth, biceps bulging as he strains against those cheap cuffs. "Mean!"

It's such a fucking sight that Bob's pressing the heel of his palm against himself, already so hard and heavy in his sweats that the Reader can see the outline of him from across the bed. And so when Bob reaches to turn off the vibrator, both Reader and Rhett think that's the end of it, too worked up to just keep watching.

But then Bob's pulling that little spreader bar out from under the bed, the annoying one that extends the further you open your legs, and Rhett's muttering incoherently as it's placed between his ankles. He knows what it is, but the moment that vibrator buzzes to life again, his legs are fluttering until he's spread wide open. Pale back arching off the bed, crying out as his cock spasms and twitches against his belly.

"Too much?" Rhett doesn't remember when Bobby sat down next to him, but he's there, smoothing a big hand up Rhett's quivering belly.

And the Reader's hands are dipping between his legs, cupping his balls, and he's forgotten how to speak. His hair bouncing as he shakes his head back and forth. Wordless.

It's hard to tell if the full-body tremor is from the vibrator or from the overwhelming sensation of Bob's meaty cock tapping against Rhett's hip, or maybe it's from the way the Reader is straddling his shivering thigh. Whatever it is, it's got him shaking like the leaves on the tree outside. So much. It's so much. But it's not enough.

"Wanna," he croaks, eyes screwing shut, "wanna, wanna, wanna..."

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before he devolves into another mindless sputter. Reader and Robby's names tumbling off his short tongue, chanting like it's some incantation that'll bring him what he wants. Can feel the way the Reader pulses against him and how Bob's growing twitchy, so so so close.

But he's not the first one to cum. Its Bob. Practically untouched, losing himself at just the sight of Rhett, and that's all it takes for him to tumble over, too. Painting his pretty, heaving belly with white as he cries high in his throat, back arched off the bed, head tilted back and all.

An unforeseen factor is the clinginess that follows suit. His cheeks flushed as he nuzzles his head into Bobby's chest, silently running his palm up and down the Reader's thigh until they've reached their peak too. That sort of blissful quietness that only comes when the afterglow of his orgasm doesn't fully leave his bloodstream. A little worn out, a little dazed, and a little something extra that he can't quite name. Eager to steal kisses from lips and wordlessly grumbling when a shower is suggested. They're a mess—Rhett's a mess, but moving quite literally requires Bob to pick Rhett up and carry him into the bathroom because he is not moving.

"'s that a duck?" He murmurs, somewhere between slouching against the Reader's side and piling a bunch of bubbles on top of Robby's head.

"There's another by your shoulder," Reader hums, their eyes already on that little pink hunk of plastic, bobbing with the gentle waves of the soapy water.

Rhett's head twists, "Oh," pausing to clomp his hand over it, dragging the poor little duck to the bottom of the tub, only to let go and let it pop back up to the surface.

Bath ducks 🦆🫧

Since we're on the topic of breaking Rhett, let me bring you to the concept of a cute little bullet vibe buzzing away in Rhett's cute little ass while he gets fucked from behind.

It's the entire reason Rhett's gotten so acquainted with that spreader bar; he's got this awful habit of clamping his legs together and not being able to part them again.

Bobby isn't home when they try it out for the first time; supposed to be at a meeting. So the Reader is the only one around to hear that sharp inhale when the cute baby blue bullet vibe buzzes to life inside him.

Metal bar clanking as he squirms, face squished against the cool surface of the kitchen island, peering back at the Reader with this darkened gaze that suggests he wants more. Perky ass wiggling back and forth as the Reader fixes their strap, vibrator still whirring away inside of him.

He expects them to pull it out, but the thick tip of the toy is pressing into him, and all of a sudden, the vibrator is pushing further into him. Buzzing past his oversensitive prostate until it's high enough that the tip of the strap bumps into it with every thrust.

Oh, his legs are spread so far apart, cock swinging heavily between his legs as he bites into the thick flesh of his forearm, muffling his cries. On full display as the Reader fucks him, deep blue eyes crossing at the way that toy keeps rubbing against that sweet spot of his.

He hardly notices the hum of the garage door or the dull thump of boots as Bob walks into the house, stumbling to a halt at the scene unfolding in the kitchen.

But the Reader has. And it only takes one look for them to get on the same page.

When the Reader pulls out of him, Rhett thinks they're changing positions, but there's something warmer, softer pushing into him all of a sudden. A big hand splaying out between his shoulderblades, pinning him down against the counter, and—

"Robby!"

"Hi, baby," Bob's wasting absolutely no time with him, falling into a heavy rhythm that's got Rhett's hands clinging to the opposite edge of the island, panting like a dog as he's pounded into. Hair bouncing with every heavy thrust, thighs erupting into a shaking fit that has him fighting to keep upright.

He can hardly move, can't touch himself out of fear of being forced across the counter, legs split painfully wide, reduced to nothing but a sweet little toy. Tongue loose in his mouth as he tries to ask for something he doesn't know the name of.

But it's too late. By the time he gathers his bearings enough to ask for more, Bob's hips are stalling with this guttural groan that wanders out of the kitchen and down the halls. Leaving Rhett a squirming mess, pushing back against him, babbling something incoherent that ultimately has the Reader reaching over to stroke him. Only takes a few soft pumps of their hand for him to cum, too, making a mess of the floor and Reader's hand.

The best part of those little spreader bars are the thigh massages that come after, working away the little aches and pains of being spread so far, but I'll leave that thought for another day...💃💐

[itsdeathofabachelor]

Remember the post I made about Jotaro being the same level of fucked up as Kakyoin but in different ways? I think I need to give examples because I have a very distinct thing in my brain I need all of you people to grasp to some extent here.

Jotaro is fucking huge. Ginormous for no reason considering he very likely hadn’t had the time to work out in between beating the shit out of local gang members, dashing and dining, and being a bitch to his mother. But because he hasn’t really been in a setting with a bunch of people with similar physiques as him, he has no idea how to act outside of being ‘cool’. Like, he sees no point in flaunting how he looks so he doesn’t, unlike with someone who, say, worked at their body image for months.

So I am being dead serious when I say Holly didn’t make him a school lunch one time (she had such a bad flu bug she couldn’t get out of bed) Jotaro skips all of his classes, entire day ruined. He goes out to the convenience store, red faced, puffy eyed, and shoves a packet of donuts down his shirt. No one even fucking notices. He eats all of them and cries, it’s so fucking funny.

I should probably mention, Kakyoin is one hundred percent the only one who Jotaro could give less of a shit seeing him do this. So he’s there, gingerly explaining the breeding cycles of salmon and trout in hopes of engaging Jotaro’s autism enough so he doesn’t choke and fucking die around the three donuts he shoved in his mouth.

So, six foot five, bulging muscles, could pop a can of tomatoes open if he put it in between his thighs and squeezed slightly, having a breakdown under a tree somewhere in a national park, defeated. A red haired, twitchy twunk drawing with a stick in the ground saying some shit like, ‘you can tell it’s a type of mammal because of its fin bones, even if it’s exclusively in the water now— please slow down Jojo I really don’t want you to throw up again’.

No, like, he’s a mess all the time but would rather die than be around literally anyone when he has that ‘calm before the storm’ meltdown feeling. So he just sort of shows up at Kakyoin’s doorstep like a stray and lays on his bedroom floor for three hours. Sometimes he falls asleep and Kakyoin uses him as a backrest because he always chooses to be face first directly in front of his Atari and Kakyoin wants to play his games.

Kakyoin’s mother one hundred percent thinks Jotaro is some dangerous delinquent who is going to put her son into a grave, life or death peer pressure situation until she sees Jotaro being dragged out of the house by his ankles with an out of breath Kakyoin carting both their bags under one arm, Jotaro’s coat over one shoulder, and Jotaro’s foot in both his hands. Like, ‘We have a math test. I need good grades. I am not explaining to Miss Holly why you have to retake highschool’.

And Jotaro’s completely limp, like three hundred fucking pounds of pure muscle, wearing a tank top, face down with his hat brim dragging on the floor. He looks fucking dead. He looks like a dead fucking rat. And Kakyoin’s mother no longer has nearly as many worries about Jotaro but also is forever cursed with the knowledge that, even if she were to gossip to her book club about it, they would never believe her.

Also, she’s seen Jotaro cry three separate times on the kitchen floor as Kakyoin makes his grilled cheese in the shapes of dolphins because his favourite cereal changed their packaging or Sadao calls and he’s just losing it in a puddle of tears. He never mentions it again and literally goes back to normal like nothing had happened.

He could beat the shit out of a whole biker gang, spear and set their leader on fire, all stoic and angry and totally badass. Everything falls into place with perfectly timed catchphrases and comebacks, but he’ll still be at Kakyoin’s house, twenty minutes later, face down infront of his Atari. And Kakyoin will use him as a back rest to play his games.

[sea-owl]

Who remembers my Gothic Featheringtons omegaverse posts? If you need a reminder here there are.

Part 1: Link

Part2: Link

Part 3: Link

So I've been thinking, I kinda want a rut post and gothic Penelope seems like one of the few who is okay with going with the flow and seeing what happens.

It shouldn't have counted as a chase. It shouldn't have. Colin couldn't even see her when his carriage followed her hired hack. His inner alpha disagreed though.

Must catch omega

He didn't even feel the signs coming on. Didn't feel his temper rising, in body heat or anger. Didn't notice that he was becoming more jittery. He just knew he needed to get to Penelope.

And god help her if he found her with a lover

Our omega. OURS

They stopped at a church. Stopping at a church wasn't that odd for her, the Featheringtons loved going to churches for the ghosts . . .at night. During the day though?

She was alone in the church, if someone were to walk in they would think she was a woman in mourning with her black dress and veil. Colin watched as she hid a letter. He had to get that letter, and grab his omega.

Penelope sniffed the air, her body growing tense. She could smell him. Good.

Penelope turned towards him. "Colin?"

Hearing her voice say his name, it snapped whatever control he had left. Colin rushed forward, caging her body with his own. One hand holding her close the other was under her veil and in her hair to pull her head back. His face buried in her neck, mouthing at the choker that protected her mating gland.

Pomegranate and lotus. Colin groaned at the smell.

Penelope gripped at his arms, her breathing becoming faster. "Colin? Colin what are you doing here?"

Colin pulled back, his grip on her did not loosen at all. He stared down at her, her brown eyes wide. "I followed you," he told her simply.

Penelope's jaw dropped. "You what?"

Colin didn't answer her, he was becoming more twitchy. He and his omega were too open. He had to get them home, but first he needed that letter. Letting go of her hair Colin reached for the letter.

"No!" Penelope exclaimed. "Please don't, it's a secret."

"A secret worth risking your safety over?" Colin growled at her.

"Colin please."

Colin fully let go, and Penelope ran off.

His eyes skimmed the letter. It wasn't to a lover, oh no it was something so much more dangerous to his omega.

your's truly,

Lady Whistledown

Colin's alpha voice came out full force. "Penelope stop!"

Penelope froze in the doorway of the church. Like all unmated omegas she was helpless to any alpha's voice. Colin would have to change that.

He grabbed hold of her again, he needed contact with her. Needed to know she wasn't going to leave him. Her hack was gone by the time they left the church. Good. He herded her into his carriage, hitting the top of the roof for the driver to go.

In the closed space Penelope began to take a closer look at him. "Colin you're acting like a beast in rut. It's . . .exciting."

Colin didn't like how little he was on Penelope. The heat was becoming too much, he felt like he couldn't breathe with this damn cravat on!

Colin pinned her under his body, his face burying into her neck.

"Please stay with me Penelope," Colin begged, mouthing at her chocker covered gland. His mouth trailed up to her jaw. "Stay." Lips ghosting over her's, her chest heaving into his. "Stay."

"Si, mi amor."

They trip back to his home in Bloomsbury was a short one. As soon as Colin's feet were steady on the ground he swooped Penelope into his arms. He couldn't risk his omega being taken away. Penelope wrapped her arms around his neck, her face flushed yet intrigued.

"Draw a bath, and no one is to disturb us until morning," Colin ordered.

Dunwoody nodded and Colin carried Penelope to his room. He would not let her go until the staff came and left with the bath. After that Colin began to loosen the fastenings on her dress, stripping her bare besides her chocker. Her skin was cool against his heated hands.

God he wants to be in her, but first he has to make sure she knows she's his.

He dumped her in the bath.

"Colin Bridgerton!" Penelope shrieked, the first time he's ever heard her do so. She opened her mouth again, probably to curse him in either English or Spanish, or maybe a mixture. Colin cut her off with a kiss. His hands washing her body with his soaps.

There, now she smells like pomegranate, lotus, and him.

Unable to take the heat any longer Colin began to strip himself as he made his way to his closet. As much as he wants her to be in nothing, he knows he needs to see her surrounded by him.

He goes through his shirts. He does not want her in white, it is not her. Penelope has always worn jewel tones and black. They are her family's happy colors. Blue, yes put her in blue. Not Bridgedrton blue, but a navy. Combine them both.

She looks gorgeous, like a goddess. Colin picks her back up again, this time laying her down on the bed. He once again attaches his lips to her mating gland. He lets out a growl when he realizes there is no choker blocking his path.

[mamamittens]

For my low-key failwife au verse, here's food for thought.

How often do you think harassment is an issue? Like, 99% of OP men are absolutely unrepentant perverts, yes, even my bby Thatch.

That's right you fuck, I haven't forgotten the invisibility comment. Sicko.

Anyway, specifically on the Moby, I can't imagine it's usually an issue but there are troublemakers. A ship and crew this big, with nurses dressed like that, someone is going to act stupid. And not in a 'the nurses brought this on themselves' way, but like...

I'm still not over the gogo boots and mini skirts. On a SHIP. AS NURSES. YOUR FEET MUST BE HORRIFICALLY MANGLED MA'AM, SOMEONE GET HER COMFY SLIPPERS STAT!

The animal print was also unnecessary. Who decided this??? I'm sure they could change if they wanted but like, I just want to talk... that this is the standard to begin with???

PERVERTS

Got side tracked.

So, eventually the accidental bitch face would fail to ward off particularly bold weirdos. Ones that notice how conflict avoidant she is and tries to make a move, likely unaware there are already interested parties they'd have to answer to.

I had fun imagining a bold attempt is made to grab her ass but winds up with a fist full of very sensitive flight feathers that happen to cover her up. And for his troubles he gets a startled yelp and her wings poofing, flaring out sharply and slamming him into a wall.

With a fist full of feathers, so now her wings are bleeding, she's crying cause he basically just ripped a chunk of hair out, and the dumbasses that were encouraging him are aware of how fucked they are.

Now, I did consider what division she'd be in and decided it would likely be Haruta simply because I headcanon him as primarily information/communication based. They've got contacts everywhere. Izou's is more for like, infiltration honestly. Maybe. Still not sure. And this is because she helps run the library so it made the most sense. (Thatch pouted for a week)

Anyway, point is, Haruta has dibs and is pretty pissed off. As well as aware that if Thatch and Izou find his punishment lacking, they'll step in, so to keep some peace he'll have to make it pretty damn good. He's also pissed cause no one fucks with Marco's division members cause they know better and views this as also a slight to himself.

Nikia's just upset cause flying is ruined for a while and her whole body aches from oversensitivity. It's so close to her spine she limps around and just wants to curl into a ball and cry for a little. Even after treatment she's super sore and there's not much to be done but wait.

This is when Thatch learns how sensitive the feathers closer to her back are and is retroactively horrified he basically succeeded where this dude failed by accident.

She flinches anytime someone gets near her wings for a while and it pisses off Izou a lot cause he really likes bonding by helping her preen but she just can't stand anyone touching them right now. Eventually she heals enough that her regular molt regrows the feathers and sheepishly asks Izou for help since she can't reach the new pin feathers to free them from the sheathes.

He manages to pull in Thatch and very carefully coaches him on how to properly, platonically, preen her big ass wings without making it weird. Which Izou is quite good at naturally.

Maybe it's on deck in Whitebeard's shadow, the old man pleased the hurt has been soothed enough for her to feel safe doing so more or less in the open. But he does glare when anyone gets too close with twitchy hands.

Marco gets a pass in his Phoenix form and abuses this to rile up Thatch and Izou.

I imagine they both can have bouts of possessiveness and jealousy but Izou stews in it more compared to Thatch who will loudly complain first before acting. They're both fairly secure in their relationships so it's not usually a problem (maybe used as fuel for spicy bedroom time lol) but in this uncertain phase with Nikia they're more sensitive than usual. They do try not to be pricks but very much carry an energy of "we called dibs first".

Doesn't help she's fairly passive in interactions so it's harder to get a read on her interest in people as well as communicating rejection. They'll gladly do it themselves but (rightly) fear pissing her off as it comes across as patronizing.

And excessive coming from two commanders. Possibly more depending on how severe and who happens to be there.

No one wants these two to start a brawl and Nikia has no idea how ready they are to deck someone if they try that shit again.