#peak height results

[neteyamsyawntu]

My Little Tawtute

Neteyam x Curvy!Human Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Synopsis: Your relationship with Neteyam was unique to say the least. Nothing ever going farther then some light touches and some cuddling, but what happens when Neteyam decides to push the boundaries of your relationship during one of his visits to the lab?

LIGHTLY PROOF READ

Warnings:🔞MINORS DNI🔞 SMUTSMUTSMUTTYSMUT, P in V, fingering, mentions of creampie, thigh fucking, friends to lovers(if you squint hard enough), size kink, interspecies relationship, dirty talk, dom!neteyam, pet names. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Tawtute -> Human

Today wasn’t necessarily the most busy day in the lab. You had gotten most of your research done by noon and for the most part you now found yourself just organizing things into virtual files, before moving your work to your room to start on your physical copies, being a very tedious note taker. You were half way through the pile when you were pulled out of your thoughts to heavy footsteps against the tile coming from down the hall. You look over to your open door just in time to see Neteyam crouch down as he carefully makes his way through the doorway, having learned the hard way from being excited one too many times and smacking his forehead against the frame. The realization of his carefulness coaxing a small chuckle from you. Neteyam’s ears perked at the sound, giving you a smirk in return, “You sound like you are in a good mood today.” He says as he closes the door behind him, moving to stand to his full height, only leaning down slightly from over your shoulder, observing the papers in front of you. “It’s been a pretty easy day, nothing too exciting. I’m just organizing all of this to keep myself busy at this point” You say with a content sigh, swiveling around in your desk chair to look up at the nearly 10ft tall na’vi. Neteyam gives a small nod, taking in your words as his smirk slowly spreads a tad wider, “And.. when do you think you will be done with your… organizing?”. You give a small shrug as you casually look over your stack of notes and your tabbed storage container, which was sorted by importance of category, “Mm… hopefully not too much longer- here let me set up your spot”. What had become Neteyam’s spot was simply just some extra pillows and blankets you had, that you arranged for him so that he wouldn’t have to sit on the cold tile floor for too long, which of course he showed no issue with, but still appreciated the gesture. Rising from your chair, you made your way over to the tall wardrobe on the farthest wall of the room, Neteyam’s eyes glued to the way your exposed thighs rubbed against each other as you walked, watching the slight jiggle that was created with each step. It was one of the things that drew you to him; despite your own insecurities about your body, Neteyam was fascinated with the curvature of your body, only really being accustomed to the lean, slender build of the na’vi. You were different in the best way possible.

Although his initial attraction to you started with your peaked interest and passion for learning about Pandora and the culture of his people, the more time he spent with you, the more he would catch himself staring at your body. Staring, slowly led to daydreaming, to fleeting touches, pushing the boundaries further and further to get close to you. The relationship between the two of you was unique for lack of a better term. The two of you were close, very close in fact. With na’vi being monogamous creatures by nature, as soon as Neteyam started to feel a more intimate attraction toward you, he silently made his claim on you, always making sure you were not left alone with other men for too long without him being present and even cuddling with you during your down time. Sometimes your cuddle sessions would turn somewhat heated, fueled by Neteyam’s wandering hands and his need to squeeze the thickness of your thighs, but none of it went farther than some suggestive touching and cautious kisses. Neteyam’s eyelids became heavier as he watched you set everything up on the floor, his tail swaying intriguingly behind him, “How's this?” You asked, kneeling on the floor as you adjusted some of the blankets. Neteyam slowly lowered his body onto the soft surface of the blankets and pillows, his face creeping closer and closer to yours as he stared straight through you with his large golden eyes, “Nearly perfect…” he hummed, before shifting to lay his head down on your lap, his eyes closing contently as he nuzzled gently against the plush of your thighs, “Mmm.. much better” he purred with a slight pull in his throat. You were used to his advances by now of course, yet they never failed to manifest butterflies in your stomach at his forwardness. 

“Neteyam, I still have work to do..” You state with a small pout. Neteyam’s ear merely flicks at your weak attempt at a protest, opening his eyes to gaze up at you with a playful glint in his eyes, “Just stay with me like this a moment… then you can go back to your ‘work’, I promise” his words almost have a sarcastic tone to them as he shifts his position to run his nose along the skin of your thigh. You sigh before giving a soft giggle, moving a hand to pet his head, “You’re just like a needy house cat, you know that?”. Neteyam scrunches his nose a bit at your comment, his tail shifting to tap against the pillows in a slight annoyance, “I do not appreciate being compared to your Earth creatures.”. It was so easy for you to tease him, which only made you want to do it more. You had shown him pictures on your laptop of certain animals native to your planet one day, whilst the two of you were exchanging information about your own respective planets, when you continued to point out some of his own feline features that reminded you of the small furry creatures, which prompted the same reaction of an unamused nose scrunch. Either way he continued to allow your soft caresses, humming as he shifts his body to lay on his side, facing your body. A deep blush begins to form on your cheeks as you watch him. How his nostrils twitch as he pokes your inner thigh with his nose, just below the hem of your shorts, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Neteyam what-”, “-You smell so good, tawtute… so sweet.. right here” he hums as shifts his head to brush his flat nose against the crotch of your shorts. You could feel your heartbeat begin to double at his words and actions, your body stiffening as he takes a deep inhale of your scent, pressing his nose against the zipper of your shorts.

You flinch at his assertiveness, watching him with wide eyes. This wasn’t necessarily out of character for him, but he was definitely pushing the boundary of your usual intimate touching. To have his face so close to your clothed cunt, blatantly smelling your arousal, it nearly made you feel light headed as tension started to build up between you. “Teyam… “ you whisper, gulping slightly as the air in the room almost seemed to become thicker, harder to breathe. Neteyam reluctantly lifted himself from your lap, nearly high off of your scent alone, desperate for another hit, his eyes heavy with lust, as he rose to his knees, “Turn around…” he ordered in a low almost strained voice, as if it was taking him every morsel in his body not to pin you beneath him and claim you as his. You shivered at his tone, giving a slight nod as you slowly rose to your feet, turning your back to him. Listening as Neteyam lets out a pleased hum, a soft gasp suddenly escapes your lips at the feeling his large hands taking hold of your hips, pulling you to press your back flush against his chest, his nose immediately finding its nesting spot in the crook of your neck, having another intake of your scent. Neteyam’s hands slowly creep down to the swell of your thighs, his fingers squeezing the fat there firmly as he releases a groan directly into your ear. “N-Neteyam… This.. this is a little.. Uh..” You are hardly able to put your thoughts into a cohesive sentence. Your brain was yelling at you to reject his advances, but your instincts and the tightening in your stomach as his nails lightly dig into the skin of your thighs, wanted nothing more than to melt under his touch. “Are you uncomfortable, yawne? Do you want me to stop?” he purrs into your ear, his lips grazing its shell, waiting for your consent before he continues, “N-no..I just… you’ve never held me like this before.” You breathe as your eyelids flutter at the thought of what could be going through Neteyam’s mind. The power he had over you felt intoxicating.

Neteyam lets out a soft chuckle, enjoying how nervous he’s making you feel, the heat of his breath on your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, “Do you trust me, tawtute?” he asks in a soft sultry tone. Giving him a slow nod, Neteyam responds by parting his lip to lick a thin stripe up the length of your ear, instantly sending another shiver down your spine, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as the action pulls a whimper from your throat, “Good…”. Neteyam begins to massage your thighs in slow circles, his fingers spreading out to encompass the width of your thighs, continuously squeezing the flesh there, his thumbs lightly caressing your exposed stretch marks periodically, releasing a deep groan into the side of your neck, as his eyes are glued to his repetitive movements, “So beautiful…”. A small whine escapes you at his words, your breath hitching as you feel something firm, pressing against the back of your thigh, while Neteyam shifts his right hand to allow his index finger to rub against the hem over your crotch, pressing firmly enough for you to feel friction between his finger and the fabric of your shorts. Your brows pinch at the sensation, head rolling back to rest against his shoulder as you release a staggered exhale.

A satisfied smile forms its way onto Neteyam’s lips as his eyes move to watch your pleasured expression, “Are you enjoying this, Y/N?” He asks, already knowing full-well the answer, as he examines your face, mouth agape and eyes closed tight as he adds more pressure to his long digit, dragging it across your clothed folds, too caught up in the feeling to answer him straight. “Answer me sweet girl…” his voice rumbles against your ear, his nose gliding down the side of your neck, “Haah… mmm- yes… feels.. really good.” you respond between shaky breaths, your mind beginning to spiral as his thumb drifts to push open the button of your shorts effortlessly. “Hmm that’s my good girl..” as the words leave his mouth, another swipe of his tongue finds its way down your jugular, toward your collarbone, the sensation tingling your sensitive skin enough for you to grip the forearm, of his hand that was working on shimmying your shorts down your thick thighs, as a reflex. As your mind finally becomes conscious of what Neteyam was trying to do, the sense of urgency fueled by your desire takes over, prompting you to move your hands to assist him in shoving your shorts down your thighs, pushing past the slight resistance of your thighs, kicking them away the moment they fall to the floor. “You seem eager, little one” Neteyam says with a soft chuckle as fingers hook themselves around the band of your panties pulling them down as well, tossing them to the side after you step out of them, before his hands work their way up your legs to reclaim their place back on your thighs. His right hand shifting to lightly lay over your mound. Your body shivers as the cold air brushes past your naked folds, breath hitching the moment Neteyam’s finger slides through the wetness that had built up at your entrance, collecting the wetness enough to bring his lubricated digit to your clit, rubbing slow repetitive circles against the bundle of nerves. Your back instantly arches at the sensation, your hand moving to cover your mouth, muffling your noises, to which Neteyam immediately removes your hand with his free one, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss against it as he eyes you hungrily, “do not hide those pretty noises from me, sevin… let me hear you” Neteyam purrs a he begins to rub slightly firmer circles into your clit while simultaneously beginning to grind his throbbing erection against your leg.

“Ohh! Ahh- oh god..” Neteyam’s ears flick as your whiny moans fall from your lips, responding with his own low growl at the sound, “Yes… that’s it, yawne… s-so so pretty…”. You can hear his own voice begin to waver as he grinds his erecting firmly against your leg, his brows knitting together as the sensation starts to become too much for him to handle. His eyes land on the puddle of slick that had built up on his hand from massaging your folds, “Y/N… do you mind if we try something?” He asks in a slightly shaky voice, as he loops a hand behind his back to expertly untie his loincloth, allowing it to fall to the floor at his knees, his cock springing up, smacking lightly against your thigh. Your eyes widen at the feeling, unable to stop yourself as your curious hand reaches behind you to run your fingers along his shaft, earning a trembling hiss from Neteyam, “Y-yawne, wait.. you don’t have to do that… Oh…”. Looking over your shoulder at him, eyes now half lidded, watching as Neteyam leans his head against your shoulder while unsteady, heavy breaths leave his lips, as you wrap your small fingers around his cock, giving him slow yet firm strokes from base to tip. His shoulders rise and fall with a bit more urgency as his breathing becomes heavier, absolutely crumbling at the way you’re touching him. Biting his lip, Neteyam puts his hand over yours to halt your movements, pulling you off of him, “S-stop… you’re gonna make me cum like that… just- spread your legs a bit more.” He requests, letting go of your hand to place his own on the swell of your ass, his fingers hungrily digging into your cheeks, spreading them apart slightly, causing you to whine as you eagerly follow his orders. Neteyam places a hand at the base of his cock, steadying his breath as he brings you closer to him, pressing your hips flush against his front, guiding the length of his cock to slide right up against your sopping cunt, pulling pleasured sounds from both of you at the contact. “Good… n-now close your legs for me”, “W-wait, close them?” You ask, giving him a somewhat confused look. “Yes, tawtute.. close your legs for me… please”. You could tell he was becoming more and more desperate by the shaky plea that left his mouth. Complying with his wishes you close your legs as much as you can with his cock sitting between your thighs, Neteyam’s hands gripping your hips tightly as he holds back a strained groan, “J-just like that… perfect…”. Taking in deep breath Neteyam pushes his cock through your thighs, using your slick as lubrication, your eyes watching as his tip breaks free from the containment of your closed legs, a content sigh leaving his lips as Neteyam once again has to remind himself to keep his restraint, to not plunge himself straight into your tight, unprepped pussy. 

Your body began to tremble, feeling as a potent heat spreads through your core you could feel your cunt aching as Neteyam began to use your hips to slide you back and forth on his cock, using your thighs to fuck himself. His palms moving to pull your ass cheeks apart to watch the base of his cock disappear between your thighs over and over again, “Oh shit, yawne… haah.. you're doing so well for me.. Eywa, you’re so wet…”. A high pitched whine rips from your throat as his thick shaft glides effortlessly over your folds and clit, coaxing out small squelching noises from the push and pull of his movements, your hips occasionally jerking at the sensation of his cockhead hitting your clit a certain way. “Ahh.. Teyam I- I can’t..”, Neteyam immediately stops his motions at your words, thinking he may have done something wrong, or that you weren’t completely as comfortable with this as you had led on. Leaning in close to your face, Neteyam nuzzles against your cheek in attempts to comfort you, his cock continuing to throb and twitch at the loss of friction, “What is it, tiyawn?” He asks a little out of breath, as he tries to reel back his mind to focus on you and your needs. “I… I need more.. please, Teyam.” You beg in soft whimpers, as your hand reaches down to caress the tip of his cock that was poking out from between your thighs, causing his hips to jerk slightly at the sudden touch. Neteyam stares down at you with wide eyes at your boldness before his lips twitch into a smirk, releasing a low chuckle from his chest, “Oh my little needy tawtute… you have no idea how hard it is for me not to pin you down and have my way with you.” He purrs against your cheek, before shifting his head to place a firm kiss on your temple, “But I would hurt you. Your small little body is not made to take such.. large intrusions”.

You pout letting loose another needy whimper as you lean forward enough to shift your hips to align his tip with your rubbed out pussy lips, “I can take it.. I promise… or I at least want to try- please Neteyam… I need you” you whine desperately as you begin to stir your hips against his cockhead, already feeling how it would take him a good amount of effort to even force himself inside of you, as his tip barely passed through your lips. Neteyam takes in a sharp inhale at your actions, gritting his teeth as his hold on your hips becomes nearly bruising as he fights against his own internal conflicts, “Y/N this is dangerous.. I’m serious, you could really get hurt”. You groan at his protests, knowing that he was right, but he had already given you this much, let you feel him, touch him, and your body only craved more. Your pussy throbs in anticipation as you take matters into your own hands, attempting to push yourself down on to him, “Fuck it! I don’t care, hurt me then. Neteyam please I can’t take it anymore.” Before you can even process what is happening, your head is pinned to the blankets below you, ass in the air as Neteyam continues to hold you by the back of the neck, keeping you in place. Looking over your shoulder you can see the dark look in his eye, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he indulges in his own primal instincts for a moment. Leaning over your backside, Neteyam drags his tongue up your spine, pushing your shirt up as he goes, until he reaches the center of your shoulder blades. With one hand Neteyam maneuvers your shirt to bind your wrists with it, rolling the excess fabric into a small knot. His voice is a low growl in your ear, “If you want it that badly, then be a good girl and let me properly prepare you.” Releasing his hold on your wrists after ensuring that your wadded up shirt would do the job, Neteyam snakes his hand behind your rear, moving down toward your exposed glistening cunt, giving it a rough slap, not enough to hurt, but to at the very least stimulate your aching hole, enough to cause you to cry out, “You said you wanted to be hurt, isn’t that right, tawtute? Hah.. such a naughty little thing..” he coos to you teasingly as he rubs the flesh of your ass, before directly inserting his middle finger down to the last knuckle into your throbbing core. Your breath is caught in your throat at the unexpected entry, thinking he would have maybe given you some sort of warning, only finally finding your voice as he begins to pump the digit inside of you, letting out a breathy moan in partial relief from the aching in your deprived walls. 

“Is this what you wanted? Begging for my cock and now you can’t even speak, all because of my finger. Go ahead, beg for more, little one… beg me to stretch you out properly” he orders you in a deep growl, as his fangs graze the flesh of your shoulder. Without any hesitation, you eagerly answer to his call, “M-more! Please, Teyam put another finger in… ohh it feels so good…”. With a sly smirk Neteyam shifts his hand back, watching your expression closely as he forces his last two fingers into your hole. Your brows pinch together at the sudden stretch, mouth falling agape as you find your voice temporarily missing again, before releasing a strained mewl. Neteyam placed a kiss on your shoulder, choosing to be a bit more patient with you, soothing your discomfort, considering the drastic adjustments your body was having to make, before slowly moving his digits in and out of you, massaging the gummy part of your walls. Continuing to release a stream of shallow breaths and moans, you find yourself fisting the blankets beneath you as Neteyam’s fingers masterfully find your g-spot, watching how your body squirms every time he hits it. “O-oh god.. Tey- Teyam I’m close!” You warn, feeling your legs start to tremble, your knees struggling to stay upright in your current position, “That’s it… cum for me, my little tawtute. Cum on my fingers.”, his words ring in your ear like an undeniable command, almost as if your body was hardwired to appease his wants, prompting your body to immediately obey his orders, as you feel your core tighten more and more before you burst, screaming out in ecstasy. The tightness of your cunt practically pushing his fingers out of you, leaving a thick string of slick connecting his fingers to your throbbing cunt. You nuzzle your face into the blankets as you come down from your high, desperately trying to regain control of your breathing, you turn your face to look over your shoulder, just in time to catch Neteyam’s predatory gaze as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking your juices tentatively, his tail swaying possessively behind him, “How is it that you taste this good?… Sweet.. yet tangy like an utumauti… or I think you humans call it banana fruit.”. You throw a half hearted, exhausted laugh his way as you slowly move to  sit up, your mind fogging as you assumed this was the end of your intimate session, that was until his large palm presses into the middle of your back, pushing you back down, forcing you to arch your back for him, ripping a surprised yelp from your weak form, “You’ve been such a good girl, yawne… I think it’s time I give you what you’ve been begging for.” Neteyam hums, rubbing his shaft along your dripping folds, biting his bottom lip as he collects your remaining cum on his shaft, his ears flicking when his actions are rewarded with the sound of your breathy sighs, “Unless of course you have changed your mind?” He teases you, pressing his tip firmly against your entrance, restraining enough to wait for your green light to insert himself into you.

“Tey, stop teasing me and give it to me already!” you pout, pushing your ass to meet his advances, nearly causing his tip to slip inside of you, earning a shaky moan from the na’vi male behind you, slowly turning into a rough chuckle, “I don’t think I've ever met anyone so desperate to be torn apart. Very well, tiyawn… relax for me” he coos, leaning into your ear, placing a gentle kiss on it’s shell before leaning back, firmly placing his hands on your hips, holding you in place and then you feel it, his cockhead forcing its way into your cunt, assisted by your preexisting lubricant. The stretch was unlike anything you had felt before, making his fingers seem feeble in comparison, yet feeling as Neteyam pushed himself further and further through your walls, you knew that without having taken his fingers first, you would have certainly been torn apart. Your back arched further as the weight of his pelvis caused your knees to spread further apart, gasping as the action drove him deeper inside of you,“I-It hurts, Tey…”, “You’re doing great, yawne… just a bit more..”. His tone is soft and affectionate, in his best attempts to comfort you. No matter how much he teased you, it did cause him pain to see you in such discomfort, nearly on the verge of tears as you lay your head flat on the floor in defeat, allowing your body to fully relax as you accept your fate. Just as Neteyam had promised you, with a few more pushes into your tight walls, his cock had finally reached as far as it could go, his tip nestled against your cervix, releasing a heavy exhale into the crook of your neck, as he tried to keep his composure despite how hungrily your pussy clenched around him, “Oh Eywa… you feel incredible, yawne.” He mutters in a barely audible whisper as he nuzzles into your hair, taking in your scent to calm his nerves, his hands falling from your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your rear flush against his pelvis, his tail curling at the sensation of being so deep inside of you. His eyes trail over you as your expression finally seems to relax, carefully resting his forehead against your temple, placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

“I am going to start moving now… ok?” He coos into your ear, placing another kiss on the top of your head after you nod in approval. Steadying himself with a final breath, Neteyam slowly begins to roll his hips into you. “Mmmn…Oh my… ohh!”, you moan out as your heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute, the pain slowly melts into pure arousal. The feeling of the stretch was still there of course, yet oddly the discomfort in itself became satisfying. Gripping the shirt that still bound your hands, you began to rock your hips back to meet Neteyam’s thrusts, taking him off guard for a moment at your sudden eagerness, nevertheless it fuels his desire to want to pound into you that much more, “Look at you taking me so well…so deep.. and so tight” he purrs low into the back of your neck between moans, his breaths becoming slightly heavier as his hips begin to move a bit more passionately, nuzzling into your hair once more as his own desires grow more intense, “You’re so tiny…oh you sky person…” Neteyam whispers breathily into your neck, chuckling softly at the pathetic whine you let out in protest of this specific pet name, only encouraging him to buck his harder into you, admiring how his movements cause your tongue to fall past your lips as your mouth hangs open to allow string after string of moans and whimpers to emerge. The small room filling with noises of ecstasy as well as the sound of skin slapping against one another as Neteyam steadily loses his composure, rutting into you with intense love and carnal desire.

Moaning out at the feeling of a sudden tug at the base of your skull, Neteyam uses your hair to pull your head backward, forcing you to stare at the ceiling while his mouth hungrily attaches itself to your neck, leaving dark marks all along its surface, leaving his claim on you, so that everyone- sky person and na’vi alike would know who you belong to. The familiar tightness builds up in your core again, as the mix of sensations work together to send you into overdrive. Neteyam can feel it too. The way your cunt is clenching and unclenching more rapidly around him, he knows you are getting close. His arm that his still wrapped around your middle moves to descend his hand down between your thighs, rubbing at your overstimulated clit, immediately causing your entire body to tremble once again, albeit more aggressively than before as your orgasm ripped through your body before you even had a chance to give a proper warning. Neteyam’s ears perking to full assertiveness, basking in the pleasured sounds of your climax, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head as he uses them to chase his own release, “Oh.. yawne.. yawne, ah- I’m cumming…” he warns, panting heavily as he feels his cock attempt to twitch within the confines of your tight cunt, before he releases his load inside of you. Pulling out slowly after taking a moment to catch his breath, Neteyam lays down beside you, pulling you into his strong embrace, as he gently runs his finger tips up and down your back as you come down from your high. Your own fingers caressing his chest in a slow kneading motion as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. The room was quiet, only the sounds of your soft panting and sighs filled the space. Neteyam holds you closer to him as his hand lifts from your back to gently caress your cheek, his hand nearly twice the size of your head in comparison, “My little tawtute… so beautiful.. mine…” he mumbles into your hairline, pressing a gentle yet firm kiss on your forehead. The sound of his soft whispers and his strong yet calm heartbeat lulling you to sleep in his arms. 

I'm so proud of myself for getting this fic out when I said I would. Well kind of, I'm technically a day late, but shh. I didn't wait till after I woke up the next day, so it still counts. TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT AND I SHALL NOT BEND TO ITS WHIM. N E WAYS I hope you guys enjoyed this! It was honestly super fun to write and god, something about human x na'vi pairings just do something to me.

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Tag-list:

@tiredmamaissy

@jakexneytiri

@neytris

@jake-sullys-whore

@live-laugh-neteyam

@zynn4

@eywascall

@christinechickiee

@fanboyluvr

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@im-in-a-pansexual-panik

@blackchim3ra

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@kiri-tuk

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@yeosxxx

[malereadermaniac]

Serial Cheater ~ Mako x Male Reader

This takes place somewhere along season 2 - Mako having just broken up with Korra and chatting to Asami again

You are a core member of team Avatar!

Short fic! Sorry lol

Even though Mako is the kind of guy fan girls swoon over, most people would say that he's pretty down to earth

Your friends wouldn't describe Mako as flirty or as a serial romantic

But for the entire time you've known the muscular fire bender, some things have stuck out to you - most notably that he is, in fact, a flirt and a serial cheater (on accident)

Mako never actually means any harm to the girls he dates, but you have noticed a trend in his dating patterns of dating drop-dead gorgeous girls with a little overlap between them

It may just be the law of attraction - maybe Mako is just a magnet to romance and he can't help it

But it's most definitely a fact that if an opportunity is presented to the police officer, he takes it

And that is exactly what got the both of you into this situation

Mako and you were hanging out, Korra away somewhere on avatar business and everyone else at their respective jobs

The two of you were just chilling in Mako's apartment, having ordered take-out and drinking some new companies mass-produced rice-wine

As conversations drifted from one to the other, Mako started to vent about his highly active love-life

Being a good friend, you listened to the tall police officer - nodding along to assure him that you're listening to his ramble about his feelings for Korra and also for Asami

You of course throw in a joking comment or two at Mako's adulterous nature, but all in all you listen to his problems and offer your comfort

And your comforting and caring nature, mixed with the alcohol in Mako's system, was what resulted in your current situation

That being you on Mako's lap, making out with you handsome friend

Yes, you broke the kiss initially

Yes, you said you two shouldn't do this because of your close friendship with both of Mako's love interests

Yes, Mako begged for your warm, soft lips and for your comfort

And yes, you gave in...

Even though Mako was just yapping on about kissing Asami less than 24 hours ago, his chiseled face and warm brown eyes drew you in like an inescapable black hole

As the two of you made out, clothing started to make its way off of your body - the air in Mako's apartment becoming hotter and stuffier

But as your nude chest rubbed against the handsome man's pecs, a knock of the door forced you two apart

"Mako? Hey I wanna... talk about earlier!" you could hear your dear friend's voice shout

Asami was behind that door, and you most certainly didn't want her to walk in and see you and her not-so-boyfriend-boyfriend getting it on

You and Mako struggle to get off of one another and desperately reach for your clothes to cover up

You head to the bathroom to hide and dress back up as Mako let's Asami in to talk

You over-hear the two as you wait in your friends' tiny bathroom

Their conversation had ups and downs, but it definitely ended in an up

You peaked out of the crack between the door frame and the door, watching as Asami and Mako kissed goodbye

As the front door shut, you open the bathroom door and lean on the frame

"Sooo... looks like you really just can't help yourself" you say with a smirk to Mako

The tall man chuckles as he walks over to you

"Heh... yeah, I guess so"

"I don't think you deny being a playboy much longer, haha..." you joke

Mako holds you head up with his soft hand to make you look him in the eye - Mako's height being emphasised

"Shut up... and what if I am?" Mako half-lids his eyes as he focuses on your features

And while you know that it's a dick move on your part, breaking Asami's and even Korra's trust, you couldn't help but push your lips against Mako's

Your hands rest on Mako's strong chest, his tongue slipping past your lips as his masculine hands slip onto your waist

"That's what I'd do if your were... Hmhm~" you laugh after breaking from Mako's warm lips

The two of you laugh as the strong man picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck

As Mako makes his way to his bed, all thoughts of guilt float out and away from your brain

[atskiruma]

snow day

expl: snow falls on the ground and you find yourself enjoying it by yourself until someone stumbles upon you

a/n: the loser of the poll on the last imagine. i wrote both because the poll was just to see what would be written and released first

masterlist

ask me anything

second person writing no pronouns used

"You should have dressed better for this weather," Kaeya said, taking your hands into his and blowing the hot air from his mouth onto them. The tips of your fingers were a peachy pink from your lack of gloves. You smiled to yourself finding the act of kindness sweet.

He smiled at you, knowing you practically rushed out here to experience the snow, leaving him behind. Kaeya had to track you down in order to find you, the footprints basically went for miles. How could you run so far in such a little amount of time?! In the snow nevertheless??

It had probably been only an hour since the snow reached a good amount of height where snowmen and snow forts could be created. You found yourself enjoying the never-ending fall of the flakes from the sky, it was a peaceful thing to stare up at when you were laying below making a snow angel.

He joined you in the snow, not to create a snow angel of course, but just to sit next to your laying form and look down at you. Such a tender part of his emotions always came about when he was with you. That's what he loved, the way you always made the young version of himself peak out from the doorway in shyness and come join the fun.

Kaeya finally snapped out of it when he saw you staring back at him. It seems he didn't notice your eyes change direction when he was admiring you down below.

"You look like an angel from here, Kaeya." You spoke, with a soft smile that practically melted him in his spot. The two of you continued to chat in the cold while remaining in the same spots. That was until the sound of a young girl with too much excitement bottled up caught both of your attention.

Klee and Albedo were rounding the corner, Klee obviously more ahead of the young alchemist. Her small body immediately collides with your own and rolls over to copy your movements. She always seemed to copy after you in everything.

Her talking went on for hours and hours, while you, Albedo, (sort of), and Kaeya listened to the rambles and stories she always seemed to have on hand.

But what you never noticed while listening in on the young arsonist, was that Kaeya's hand slid into yours during it, and was keeping those peachy pink fingertips of yours warm the whole way.

One thing that Tighnari does not do, is play in the frozen-over rain. He finds it too useless to mess around and make figures out of the substance too. Rather, using his time to stay indoors and keep his tail and ears clean. While also doing numerous amounts of research along the way.

He could see you from the window of his small research hut, watching you for a bit as you run around with the children in Sumeru, quickly picking up a clump of snow and throwing a perfectly rounded snowball at someone in the distance. Tighnari shook his head, looking back down at the table of vials and substances to focus more on.

He could see Collei from the corner of his eyes peaking out the window every now and then. Knowing she was anticipating getting out there as quick as possible to join them, he sighed and put down his vials roughly.

"The more you stare, the less time spent on the project, just go do it." He said with another sigh, she looked towards him with glee and ran out to join you and the children. Sighing again, Tighnari dusted off his hands and also left the hut to stand on the porch with his arms crossed and watched all of you play. A small smile formed when he saw how happy you looked running around. He continued to admire you in the distance.

You smiled when you realized he was watching, and tried to wave him over to join. Which resulted in a swift shake of his head in declining. You knew he wasn't one to play, but the least you could do was wipe that frown from his face. Reaching down to form a snowball and whipping it towards him while he was distracted looking in the distance at Cyno's approaching figure.

The snowball immediately collided with his chest and a little bit below his chin, causing him to jolt backward and look toward where you were giggling. Cyno also caught sight of the action and smirked while he walked towards the porch.

"So that's how we're going to play? Okay." Tighnari said, before retreating back into the hut.

You continued to laugh lightly at it, before seeing a rapidly approaching green figure with a large handful of chemically created snow in his hands.

Gorou loved when snow days occurred, it was free time off work and a beautiful day to play and have fun! This was why today he was especially happy to wake up and rise from his bed, looking towards the cloudy white window.

This also meant he could spend time with you, most of the time you two would only see each other late in the afternoon because of his military work schedule. Dates were rare, and you almost never had time to take walks around Inazuma.

He was beaming when he walked out of his home, seeing a couple people waving toward him and others trying to make the perfect snowman. All he wanted to do was find you and spend some time together on this perfect winter day.

Which was seemingly pretty difficult! Because so many people wanted to talk to him and have him join them in their activities. Couldn't they see he was on a mission? He was completely focused on walking in the direction you'd most likely be, but everyone seemed to need him today.

He was so caught up trying to make his way out of another conversation with some guys who he trained, that he didn't seem to notice you standing right next to him.

Gorou's reaction when you lightly patted him on the back was not an amusing one. Specifically, because he thought you were just another person trying to take up his time. Don't get him wrong! He loves spending time with people, but he really wanted to see- Oh. It's you!

His face lit up and his tail swished a million miles per hour, smiling immediately at the sight of seeing you in front of him. You smiled as well, it seemed he had a rough day from his first appearance turning towards you. You put your hand on his arm and squeezed it a little bit in reassurance. Just before his friends could start teasing him for the reaction, you offered to go for a walk down the pretty scenery bridges of Watatsumi Island.

As the two of you walked off, he never stopped looking down at you, while his tail continued to wag like crazy, admiring your appearance and the small snowflakes littering you.

The Kamisato Residence was littered with patches of snow here and there. Ayaka being the only one to actually adventure out in the rain-down of white flakes. Her brother, Ayato, staying inside and continuing his business work instead.

You passed her on the way up to visit the residence, and chatted for a bit, learning that he decided to stay inside on such a nice day. She begged for you to at least get him outside for only a minute to enjoy the peaceful day. You smiled and nodded, telling her you'd do her best, but knowing the man preferred the warmth more.

The walk-up was peaceful, people waved while building their snowmen and others sat with each other watching the snowflakes fall. You smiled, knowing if you couldn't get him in the snow, you'd at least try and get him to go outside and look at it, the least.

When you entered the Kamisato Estate, the guard standing in the front nodded toward you; you felt so bad for him standing out in the snow and offered a chance to come inside. He shook his head in result and said it was too nice to sit inside all day, you smiled and agreed.

Ayato was sitting in his workroom staring down at multiple parchments when you entered, looking stressed at whatever he was reading. You said his name softly, earning his attention and the weight of his shoulders dropped once he saw you.

"It's so beautiful? Why don't we go outside for a bit and relax?" You said, walking behind him and putting your hands on his shoulders to rub them. His eyes closed at the action and he showed a ghostly smile along with it.

"You know I can't." He said, "I've got too much to do today." His rejection of your offer didn't phase you, because you knew deep down you could convince him. You grabbed his hand and pulled him up from his chair, and with no resistance, he followed.

The two of you walked out of the doors of the estate and stepped onto the small porch leading to the garden. It was covered in white and looked to be gleaming with the small rays of sunshine peaking through the clouds. Your small glances toward him proved that the suggestion was proven effective, he looked so much more relaxed looking at the beautiful scenery.

Ayato looked back at you, taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it. "This scenery is beautiful," He spoke, "But you are all I need to feel this way."

A small blush formed on your cheeks, so unnoticeable from the dusty rose color already painted on them from the cold. Your flustered expression caused him to smile with his eyes. You leaned closer into him and hugged his arm, staring towards the direction that Ayaka, the Traveler, and Paimon emerged from in the distance with dinner.

[downbadf0rficppl]

sweater weather

Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: While caught out in a snowstorm while on a mission, you resort to desperate measures to keep warm.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Canon violence, slightly injured reader, smut, manhandling, soft sex, facefucking

Repost

The mission was long. And hard. And all you wanted now was a nice, long nap.

Steve had brought up this particular mission while you two were hiding in Manila. You always preferred the warmer destinations, even when you worked for SHIELD.

It was a simple mission - too simple in hindsight - the grab-the-file-and-get-out type.

"It's Austria," you sighed, again with the cold. "I know, sweets, but it's an ex-Hydra base. We gotta check it out, make sure they don't have anything they shouldn't."

You nodded, "When do we leave?"

"Wheels up in an hour."

When you landed in Austria, your mood soured quickly. There was a foot of snow surrounding the town, and you trudged through the snow to get to the safehouse - a mile away from the nearest town. You were staking out the safe house when the entire town lost power. No lights, no heating, no appliances. It was going to be a rough couple of days.

You bundled yourself in a coat and blankets while you and Steve went over what you knew. The old Hydra base had been abandoned for a while, but it was one of the few that hadn't been on SHIELD's radar due to the lack of activity in the area. It seemed that they had missed something. It seemed very active now.

You spent the first few days making sure no one suspected you were doing anything suspicious. You stocked up on firewood - making sure you would have enough, even if you ended up snowed in for a couple of days. You tried to get out to some shops, but with the three inches of snow in the local town, no shops were open. You hoped that there was some long-life food still left in the safe house.

When you set out, you silently prayed that the power would come back on by the time you had finished dealing with the agents in the bunker. You also thanked Tony for putting a heater in your suit as part of one of his routine upgrades. You weren't freezing your ass off as you broke into the base.

The bunker itself was powered by some self-generating form of energy - no doubt developed as a result of Loki's scepter in the hands of Baron Von Strucker. The bunker was still working at peak capacity when you and Steve waltzed in the building, guns a-blazing, looking for any signs they were planning something big.

The bunker clearly had been expecting you, launching a full assault on you as soon as you guys walked in. Agents flew left, right, and centre, throwing kicks and punches. The odd bullet was fired at your heads. They were good. But you were much better. You dodged each blow, retaliating with one much harder. They may have had power but it was amateur. You were a battle-hardened professional.

One guy was lucky. He took a baton to your ribcage while you were preoccupied with two other guys. Clearly, he hadn't learned to play fair. You threw the other two guys off you, kicking your assailant into the wall. A nasty crack was the end of him.

You left the bunker exhausted, gripping a nasty bruise that was forming over your ribs. Steve wrapped an arm around you, carrying your weight as you hobbled from the bunker. He abandoned the idea quickly, your height difference making the maneuver awkward. Instead, he wrapped his arms under your thighs, scooping you up bridal style.

You nuzzled into his chest, seeking out his warmth as the snow beat down upon you both. Steve was like a human furnace, his heat radiating through you, keeping you warm even in the hostile temperatures you found yourself in. He smiled down at you, gripping you tighter into his body as you retreated into the trees.

It was about 12 miles from the bunker to the safe house and Steve knew he had to get you both there before the blizzard really hit. There he could check your ribs for the extent of the damage. He prayed that the damage wasn't bad, guilt overtaking his mind. A few seconds of preoccupation on his part led to you being injured. Steve felt terrible.

He was also on high alert. There was no exfil team. They weren't Avengers anymore. They were on their own out here - even Nat wouldn't be able to get here in time if they were attacked.

The trudge through the snow was terrible. Frost covered your hair and his beard, and the chills were racking through your body with more frequency. The snow was seeping through your tactical gear, and given that night was fast falling around them, Steve picked up the pace.

More than once, you offered to walk alongside him, saying that you'd both be faster if you could run, but then an odd step would jolt your body and the pained gasp that would leave your lips was an answer enough.

By the time you reached the house, you had fallen asleep in Steve's arms. He kicked the door open with his toe - the key being a biometric scan of his eye.

You woke up as he sat you down gently on the edge of the sofa.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sleeping beauty." He chuckled as you threw your boot at his head. He caught it easily.

You almost swooned. Sometimes, you thought Steve showed off just to get a reaction out of you. You didn't mind - it was hot.

Steve shut the door with a click, kicking off his shoes by the door. You shivered. Somehow it was colder inside the house than outside. Steve grabbed your bag, throwing a pair of soft clean clothes in your direction, before grabbing some firewood and getting a fire started.

You limped into the bathroom, the coldness making your bones ache. You made quick work of your suit - throwing it into the bathtub, before toweling yourself dry. The wetness of the suit had chaffed at your skin, and the threadbare towel was doing nothing to help the soreness of your skin, but a little itchiness was nothing compared to the hell that would be a cold. Especially since you had no idea when you were getting out of here.

"The power's still out!" Steve called from outside the bathroom. You could tell he was leaning on the door frame, ever the gentleman, even in sub-freezing temperatures.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." You mumble under your breath as you open the door.

Steve smirked, "I caught that." You gave him a sarcastic smile back. He passed you to go dry off, "No hot water, so I dumped my suit in the tub to dry." You said, leaning on the door frame to take in the picture in front of you.

Steve's usually prim and proper appearance was dishevelled, hair run through multiple times. His suit was half-unzipped, toned chest visible under the confines of the tight fabric. A spattering of hair grew on his chest - the result of multiple back-to-back missions. And, of course, being an internationally-wanted fugitive.

He gave you a nod of confirmation, before shutting the door. You turned around to be hit by a wave of warmth. In the time it took you to pull the skin-tight tac suit off your body - which, let's be honest, took quite a while seeing as it was soaked - Steve had managed to get a fire going.

You huddled close to the fire, pulling your legs into your chest and tucking your face into your knees. You stayed there while Steve stirred in the bathroom - the occasional grunt as he bumped into the things making you giggle.

You shuffled closer to the fire, trying to steal every ounce of warmth to warm your frigid body.

"Careful, doll, you might burn yourself." You looked up at him and smiled, reaching for him as he walked towards you. He sat behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You relaxed into his arms. This was nice. You needed to do this more.

He ran his fingers over your ribs, goosebumps following in his path. You winced slightly as he applied pressure. "Not broken." He whispered, hot breath ghosting over your ear. You shivered lightly.

Steve pulled you into a chair, before retrieving the first aid kit. He sat you down, before sinking to his knees in front of you. You clenched your thighs slightly, the action pushing your mind to filth. If Steve noticed, he said nothing. He rolled up your sleeves and your trousers, revealing a plethora of small cuts and bruises that littered your body. Steve made quick work of treating your superficial wounds, smiling sympathetically when you winced at the sting of antiseptic against the cuts.

He snuck a hand under your shirt, locking eyes with you in a silent request for permission. You pulled up your shirt, revealing the large bruise over your ribs. There was a red mark in the centre of the bruise where the pole had hit you. Steve gently wiped it with an alcohol wipe, before applying Arnica cream to the bruise. You watched him tenderly patch you up.

"I'm sorry." His words surprise you.

"What?"

"I should have been there. To protect you."

You scoffed, "In case it slipped your memory, you were preoccupied. It's not your fault."

He nodded silently, rolling your shirt back down. He started to pack up the kit, but you grabbed his arm, dragging him back to sit where you had been sat moments before.

"You're hurt too, Captain," you said, sinking to your knees in front of him in the same way he had. The effect you had on him was far more visible. His face blushed a bright red, and you smiled coyly.

You bandaged up the graze on his leg, hands lingering longer than they needed to. You pushed yourself off the floor and occupied yourself with the knots in his shoulders. The adrenaline made both your bodies tense, but while you had had the time to relax in Steve's arms, he hadn't had that same luxury.

You ran your fingertips over his shoulders, kneading the particularly tight parts. Steve let out a low groan in appreciation, resting his forehead on your stomach. The sound sent electricity through your body, heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

Steve's hands came around to rest on your thighs, pulling you closer into his body like he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment.

You leaned to whisper into his hair, "It's not your fault, Steve." His hold on you only became tighter.

You stood like that for a while, your arms running up and down Steve's back while he convinced himself that you were fine.

He walked out back to grab more firewood, promising he'd be back in a few seconds. You smiled to yourself, fingers ghosting over your lips. The thought of kissing Steve was overwhelming, but you didn't want to push him when you weren't sure of exactly how he felt.

You had a pretty good idea though.

Ever since you had joined the Avengers, you had been close. But with the multiple near-end-of-the-world experiences, it never seemed like the right time to explore those feelings. Steve had always been affectionate, keeping close to you, both in public and private. He had bought you flowers regularly when you lived in New York, always remembered your birthday, protected you when Hydra agents and internet trolls attacked you. In return, you had stood by him in every fight that you could - you always had his back. He could count on that. When the dispute over the Sokovia accords had happened, you agreed with Steve - even if that meant you lost some close friends. In the years that followed, you had fought countless enemies side-by-side. Bucky sometimes joined you, Sam too. But for the most part, you two had become almost intimately acquainted.

You crept towards the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for any long-life food that might have been kept there. You pulled a can out of the cupboard. Baked Beans. You pulled another can out of the cupboard. Baked Beans. And another. And another. And another. All beans.

Buried at the back of the cupboard was a single tin of Chicken Noodle Soup that was so out of date, the mold in it had probably bred a new organism. Baked beans it was then.

You heated the beans up in a pan, placing them over the roaring fire to warm them up. You huddled up to the fire again, chills wracking through your body, keeping the pan over the fire all the while. After a while, with the tomato sauce bubbling slightly, you pulled the pan away from the heat and stood up to serve it into the two cracked bowls that were left in the safe house. Tony had done a good job at emptying the safe houses after the end of the Avengers.

Your hands shook as you evenly distributed the beans. You could hardly bear to be this far away from the fire. You needed more layers, but your coat and your tac suit were soaked through, meaning you had nothing else to wear.

Your hands shook violently again as another shiver ripped through you. You tucked your hands under your armpits and raised your shoulders to cover your ears.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted something fuzzy draped on the edge of the sofa. Steve's jumper. He's been wearing it when he arrived in Austria but claimed that it was far too thick for him - immediately discarding it when you had entered the safe house. You didn't know how it had slipped your mind earlier.

You slipped it on - Steve hadn't lied. It was incredibly thick and cozy. And also quite large, dwarfing your figure, making you feel safe and warmed. You pushed up the sleeves and carried the bowls to the floor in front of the fire.

You noticed an extra pair of Steve's socks tucked into the front of his backpack. You quickly stole them, slipping them onto your feet. You were grateful that Steve was an over-packer.

You crouched back in front of the fire, pulling the jumper over your knees, balancing your bowl on your kneecaps.

You heard Steve before you saw him. He was carrying a pile of firewood in his arms and grumbling about how 'the stupid snow got in his boots and now his socks are wet'. You giggled.

"Glad you find my torment funny, sweets." He said, his eyes still trained on the wood in his eyes, "How would you feel if I got trench foot, and was benched for-" He stopped abruptly.

You looked up at him. His gaze was trained on your body, eyes darkening by the second.

"You shouldn't have done that, sweets."

Your face breaks into uncertainty. Maybe you had completely misread the situation. Maybe Steve only wanted to be friends.

The way he grabbed your face, though, told you differently.

He stooped low to cradle your face in his hands. He placed small kisses all over your face, pecking you like a bird would its food.

"You're mine." He whispered between each one. The declaration made heat pool in your stomach and you couldn't help but laugh. You grabbed his face with your hands, and pressed your lips to his, gently at first. Steve ran his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in.

You moaned as his tongue explored each and every part of your mouth. You could feel him getting harder every second that passed and that only spurred you on.

"Steve," his name fell from your lips like a prayer, "please."

He picked you up and you let out a soft gasp.

"You like that, sweetheart?"

You nodded, words cast from your mind. He chuckled, lust colouring his tone as he shuffled you in his arms.

"Makes me feel safe." You whispered, nestling your head into his shoulder. "Like it when you carry me."

He smiled and laid you on the sofa gently. He pressed deep and sensual kisses on your lips, large and warm hands caressing your body.

You arched your back as he ran a knuckle over your nipple. You were hopelessly horny, begging for friction.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"You. Only you." You whimpered.

"Where do you want me?"

"Everywhere. Please, Steve." You were begging. Steve's eyes lit up.

"Want me to love you, pretty baby?" Steve said, dragging his fingers up your sides.

"Steve, please!" You were close to tears.

He pulled your panties down, fingers slipping in between your wet folds.

"Fuck, darling, you're making a mess." You shuddered, moans spilling out from your lips. He pulls his trousers down, dick curling into his stomach.

"You ready, sweetheart?"

You nodded in response.

"Good." He slid into you gently, your walls stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, head tossed back in pleasure.

He was bigger than you had thought - you grabbed his bicep as he brushed your g-spot.

“S’big Stevie." You whimpered, "M’all full.”

"Yeah baby? You like that?" His hands came to rest on the bulge in your stomach.

The pleasure exploded like a million fireworks in your stomach. He started moving, setting a brutal pace, pushing in and out of you. His cock brushed your g-spot with every thrust, and soon enough you were seeing stars.

"Love it, Stevie! Please don't stop!" He drilled into you, muttering sweet praises.

The coil in your stomach tightened with each thrust. “M’not gonna last.” you whimpered softly.

“S’okay baby." He praised, "Come for me, pretty girl."

You came with a silent cry, shuddering as a wave of arousal washed over you. Steve rode out your orgasm with you, before pulling out. He stood up to head to the bathroom, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the sofa. You sank to your knees in front of him, again, and licked a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

You placed a kiss on the tip of his cock before taking it in your mouth and sucking on it. You wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock and used the other to massage his balls. Steve drew a sharp breath in above you. You wrapped his hand around your hair, giving him permission to fuck your face. He grabbed your hair tightly and fucked up into your face, choking you with the brutal pace that he set.

"Oh, God, I'm gonna cum," Steve said, slightly relaxing his pace as he moved to pull out. You pushed your face further onto his cock.

Ropes of his cum coated the back of your throat as he came with moans of your name. Your eyes welled up as your throat filled with his seed. You swallowed it, much to Steve's surprise. He pulls you into his lap, before carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

You settle on the sofa in his lap, kissing lightly over and over again.

You turn your head to the fire. "Shit."

"What?" Steve looked at you in concern.

"The food. S'gone cold."

He burst into laughter, resting his forehead on your shoulder. He placed a small kiss on your shoulder. You could get used to this.

fin.

buy me a coffee

[melatonin-melanin]

jirai kei as a trend and the inherent ableism and racism present within it

if you've been present in any japanese fashion or vtuber spaces for the past few years, chances are you've most likely heard of jirai kei. it's gotten major media attention in japan, and inevitably its popularity has spread overseas. what is still misinterpreted about it, however, is that jirai kei is a fashion style. jirai kei is a stereotype, as well as a subculture that features fashion elements. as opposed to the fashion aspects, the focus of the subculture is mental illness, and many people use the jirai tags and labels to find those with similar struggles and interests. you can learn more about the recent history of jirai kei as a stereotype here, and the fashions associated with jirai kei here.

jirai kei as a stereotype is bad for a multitude of reasons, but there are many people who seem to think that there's nothing wrong with the trend itself. i've seen many arguments in favor of it, ranging from "if brands are using it, that must mean the term isn't that bad" to "plenty of japanese girls are using it to only refer to the fashion, and they don't actually lash out at others or self-harm." its usage by brands and everyday people are true, and that much cannot be argued. the problem comes from assuming that, because it's something widespread in japan, it can't possibly be as bad as people make it out to be. if this trend were to come from anywhere else, i'm almost certain that people would immediately question the morality of it for several reasons. this is going to be a long post, so i hope you have some time.

TW for mentions of self-harm, alcohol and drug abuse, and child sex trafficking below the cut.

a brief rundown of jirai kei's origins

to start, jirai kei's original coinage before the trend has existed since around the 90s. it was used by misogynistic men to refer to women who they believed exhibited signs of emotional instability. this was applied to completely harmless traits, and the criteria for someone being a landmine has drastically changed over the years. for example, the first common identifier was simply "a girl who looks put together." this sexist usage still extends to present times, but now it's often conflated with the current aestheticized definition of the term.

the source of the current iteration of jirai kei

the modern-day jirai kei stereotype comes almost entirely from a gang known as the toyoko kids, who reside in kabukicho. this gang contains many members ranging from ages 9 to 24 who have run away from their homes and families. they have been known for several activities, but the most publicized ones are cutting themselves in public circles, papa katsu (underage prostitution), heavily drinking, and overdosing on over-the-counter medications. majority of the gang members also wear japanese alternative fashions, with girly kei being the fashion that's most often present in the jirai kei stereotype.

where does the ableism come in?

the rise of the aesthetic trend peaked somewhere in 2020, where a "landmine makeup challenge" gained popularity online and resulted in various people attempting to mock and mimic the stereotype for clout. people would wear girly fashion, act "wild" or "crazy" on camera, and, at worst, pretend to cut their wrists or even use makeup to create fake self-harm scars. i don't believe i need to explain why faking self-harm for views is ableist. however, the ableism is also present in the supposed "lighter" aspects of the trend, particularly its sudden association with girly fashion.

during the height of jirai kei's popularity in japan, many brands had begun to sell pink x black girly coordinates, advertising them as jirai kei fashion. it's incredibly important to note that girly as a fashion has existed for several years prior, and that multiple people had already been wearing clothing that's abruptly being labeled jirai. as a result, you have all of these random people minding their business suddenly being labeled as "crazy psycho bitches" because of the clothes that they wear. as if that isn't enough, some brands went as far as to promote the more dangerous aspects of the stereotype as well. with attempts to pander to girls who are deemed "yandere" and "highly explosive," many shops, online influencers, and companies had directly and indirectly capitalized on the suffering of the toyoko kids by encouraging people to cut their wrists, manipulate their partners, binge drink, and lash out at others to engage in the "full landmine experience."

mental illness in japan is almost never taken seriously because it's seen as a personality flaw rather than something that needs treatment. the jirai kei trend only set back any progress made for mental health acknowledgement in society, as people perceived as landmines began to be harassed for wearing girly fashion. more girls were approached by men on the street trying to scout them for prostitution, and people gave away their wardrobe because "others assumed they were troublesome" for wearing it. from another perspective, the anti-recovery nature of the trend has also taken lives. some people who felt that they identified with the term had fully embraced the lifestyle that was commercialized and promoted as something "cute and fun," resulting in more people running away from home to be like the toyoko kids. these people, who have essentially been failed by the system, are simultaneously fetishized and shunned for the fact that they're struggling.

well, what about the racism?

the racism present in the jirai kei trend, from what i've seen, mainly comes from overseas communities. the perception that many people have of jirai kei tends to have its roots in orientalism. if you've ever witnessed how people tend to glorify japan in almost every context, this shouldn't be too surprising. what's concerning, however, is that much of this glorification of jirai still goes unacknowledged by the western j-fashion community.

when jirai kei gained popularity in japan's mainstream, people mistook the name of the stereotype for the name of the fashion. this mindset also translated over to western spaces without a second thought. as a result, when jirai kei as a stereotype was formally introduced to overseas j-fashion communities, some were confused and oddly adamant. it seemed like people thought, "there's no way that japan would endorse something so horrible. there has to be different explanations!" regardless of whether this idea was conscious or subconscious, it had begun what people now call "jirai discourse" in the community. many arguments were made in favor of using jirai kei to refer solely to girly fashion, as opposed to recognizing its origins and continuous usage as a derogatory term. an especially common viewpoint that's perpetuated is that jirai kei has been reclaimed or is in the process of being reclaimed, which is something that has several things wrong with it.

problems with thinking that jirai is "reclaimed, so it's fine to use"

firstly, reclamation is subjective. the assumption that the entirety of a minority group makes the unanimous decision to reclaim a term is frankly just implausible. even more popular words that are thrown around more casually nowadays are still debated in some circles on whether or not they should be used. for a term like jirai kei, something fairly recently coined and undoubtedly controversial in most contexts, the mere idea of reclamation amongst anyone would have to take a much longer time, and that's only if the stereotype starts getting taken seriously.

secondly, the only people who have the right to consider reclamation are the people who are directly affected by the usage of this term, which would be feminine-presenting native japanese people who are mentally ill. people overseas have argued in favor of reclaiming the term despite not being a part of the group that the term is actually used against. this is not something where you can take apart the criteria and suddenly claim that you're also affected by jirai kei's usage. for a comparison that may be easily understood, that's like if a nonblack woman tried to advocate for the reclamation of the "mammy" stereotype, which stereotypes and therefore only affects the perception of black women. just because both groups consist of women, that doesn't mean they have the exact same experience with the stereotype in question, even if they happen to resonate with some aspect of it. unless you've grown up in japan as someone afab and/or feminine-presenting and have struggled with mental health, it's nearly impossible to fully identify with the extent of jirai kei's harm because it's occurred in such a specific set of circumstances to a specific group of people. the only thing that should be done in this case is doing your research on the affected group, which you can do by looking into the history of the toyoko kids and some of the individual stories of the members. that way, you can at least attain a better understanding of their perspectives and connect the effects of jirai kei to their struggles.

lastly, it is not reclaiming to simply use the term for yourself. this tends to be where the idea of jirai kei being reclaimed comes from, because many japanese girls on social media use the term to refer to themselves as well. in these instances, there are typically two separate reasons: one, the person is pretending to be a landmine for clout; or two, they genuinely identify with the derogatory meaning of the term. the latter is often the case, since there's not many other ways for people in japan who are mentally ill to find groups for themselves. when it comes to reclamation, it's important to remember that it's not simply using a word that was used against a group that you're a part of. reclaiming is about actively working to change a term's meaning into a neutral or positive context for the benefit of the group. none of these girls are doing that. there's no big effort in japanese landmine spaces to move the perception of being a landmine away from things like girly kei fashion, idol fan culture, or toxic behaviors, which leads me to the final section of this post.

it is not anyone's job to push for the "reclamation" of jirai kei.

i put reclamation in quotes because, although some genuinely may not have ill intentions, many people come off as having a "white savior" mindset as opposed to actually wanting to reclaim the term in any sense (which, as mentioned before, is not the right of just anyone), and it's usually for the sake of enjoying girly fashion without feeling bad for incorrectly calling it jirai kei. one of the defenses often used to propose that being seen as a landmine can actually be a good thing is that the people who do self-harm and abuse substances are simply "bad apples" in the landmine community. if they're not treated as the dirty underside, then they're seen as things to be pitied and sympathized with, but with the quick disclaimer of "don't worry though, not all landmines are like this!"

not only is this incredibly ableist, but this assumption being made by mainly white influencers is also rooted in the historical development of racism against asian people, particularly in the united states. if you've heard of the model minority myth, one of the biggest issues with it is that it heavily generalizes asian people as being well-mannered, good-natured, and upstanding citizens. as a result, anyone who seems to fall out of this generalization is deemed an "untrustworthy foreigner" and appears as nonexistent through a romanticized lens. this exact situation can be applied to how people tend to treat the issues surrounding the jirai kei trend. the japanese girls who are faking and/or making fun of mental instability for the sake of online popularity are suddenly being glorified as these ideal representations of jirai kei to be palatable to the western world. meanwhile, the people who are considered by many to be part of the lowest rungs of society and are actually getting this term thrown at them pejoratively are treated as an afterthought and not representative of what people overseas want jirai kei to mean. it's even to the extent where native japanese people using girly kei or being uncomfortable with jirai kei are immediately assumed to be faking their ethnicity or their japanese-speaking skills, something that many foreigners have actually done in an attempt to claim authority over jirai kei's usage. since the reality of the trend is so uncomfortable to many, people think that it's best to simply disregard it or dumb down its impact when that changes nothing. what has avoiding the topic of discrimination and fetishization ever done for anyone?

the last thing i want to point out is that, even if reclamation of the term was in progress, it would not be happening the way that some seem to think it is. if the term was being reclaimed, we would not have people (both overseas and in japan) still acting like the stereotype for tons of likes, namely by taking pictures of themselves in girly kei next to cans of pink monster while sitting on the sidewalk with someone handing them money. that is an actual image i've seen, and if that doesn't tell you that there's a problem, i'm not sure what else will.

[ze0re]

╭﹐ఌ﹕ Scream For Me Mi Amor ﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹 － 𝖬𝖨𝖦𝖴𝖤𝖫 𝖮.

cw/tw. biting , pain kink, degradation , light smut, marking, POSSESSIVE MIGUEL 🗣️, top!miguel, bottom!reader, black!reader

an. so. I watched the new Spider-Man movie and boy when i tell you…Miguel, Hobie AND Miles had me in a choke hold- Bit anyways i decided to write this short story because i haven’t been seeing that much Miguel x Reader stories ESPECIALLY Black Readers so i’m gonna change that right now! Hope you guys enjoy!

I’m out here spoiling y’all frl..😭 Had this in my drafts for a week so i decided to post this to feed y’all as i continue writing these requests, anyways love yallll 🫶🏽!

summary. - you added more flames to the fire resulting Miguel going feral.

“Maldita mocosa..(Y/N) do you not get it?!” He raised his voices as he threw his arms into the air, staring at you as you rolled your eyes, throwing your mask onto the table crossing your arms, “Why’re you getting so mad? Me and Hobie are only friends..plus I don’t say anything when you and Jessica are always together.” You mumbled that last part looking away from him, Miguel scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing, “Me and Jessica don’t flirt or get all touchy like you and that punk.” He tried to hold back a snarl but the more you were trying to justify the situation was pissing him off even more.

You darted your gaze back to him with a scoff of your own, “You think me and Hobie are flirting? What..? Do you think about this whenever I talk to a friend? A GUY friend at that?!” Miguel saw how you were starting to get mad but he was not giving a single care right now as he walked towards your frame keeping that same eye contact with him, you held up your guard as you looked at him but couldn’t bypass that feeling of unease. Miguel was a big guy with a muscular build, so being towered by him made you feel things, he stopped in front of you crossing his arms looking down at you with a scowl on his face. “You’re so oblivious with things.” He growled leaning down towards your height to be faced too faced with you, “I can see it in his eyes that he does this to get under my skin and you’re so oblivious to seeing that. I don’t want you hanging out with him anymore.” Your eyes went wide as your arms dropped down looking at him in disbelief, “Says the fuck who?!” You raised your voice as you glared at him seeing him shake his head, “You can’t decide for me..you’re NOT deciding for me. Hobie is my friend and you’re not stopping that.” You scoffed, the next thing you were about to say wasn’t really planned out..you let your emotions and anger get the best of you, you didn’t think before talking.

“I’ll have him fuck me if you think me and him are flirting at this point.” You mumbled looking away but instantly realized what you said. Your eyes went wide as you froze hearing his breath hitch, you opened your mouth to apologize but gasped when you felt a harsh grip on your throat making you look at him, you felt yourself shrink in his hold.

He was mad.

His breathing was getting heavier as his eyes went to a deep red spotting, his fangs being peaked out with a scowl on his face, “What did you say?.” You stayed quiet as you tried to avoid his stare looking anywhere else but him but that only made him more mad making him squeeze your throat, gasping as he did feeling your air way go close for a second. You were fucked! Miguel growled lowly not hearing a response slamming you against the table that was behind you getting real close to your face, the impact wasn’t hard but it did have some slight impact but not that much to hurt you as he gripped tighter around your throat. You tried to claw his hand off your throat as you tried getting off the table but he only pushed you back pinning you with his free hand feeling the sharpness of his claws from his suit, “You want him to fuck you?” He questioned with a snarl, you looked at him giving up on your fight shaking your head, “No, no! That’s not what i meant-“ You got interrupted with a whimper feeling his claws dig into your skin, “Then what did you mean, (Y/N).” He asked again, you choked on your words as you tried to explain yourself but you couldn’t. You sighed to yourself you digged too deep into your own grave you don’t know how to get out of this,

Miguel saw how you were struggling to explain yourself and that only made everything worse for yourself. You felt your heart drop as he pushed your back on top of the table standing in between your legs, Miguel stayed quiet looking at your form pinned to the table with a cocked eyebrow, he read your eyes and you were clearly enjoying it but didn’t wanna admit it through your actions, he looked towards your neck to see the previous hickeys start to fade away. He let go of your throat giving you the chance to catch your breath feeling his finger pull your suit to the side to see the marks we’re indeed starting to fade. You gulped waiting to see what he would do but that changed when a gasp left your lips feeling your suit go loose and being pulled off you exposing your top part and neck.

How did he even remember where the button was?!

You thought shivering at the air that came through the room, you were excited yet scared. Cause what if someone comes in to speak to Miguel but instead spots him ontop of you with the top part of your suit off?! You guys were in the middle of his “so called office” where anyone could enter. But Miguel didn’t seem to care, he was too pissed off to even care. “Wait! Miguel anyone could walk in and see- oh fuck.” You moaned softly feeling his lips on your sensitive spot, “Callarse la boca.” He growled in between your neck and in instinct you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him closer to you feeling him suck on your neck, you gripped onto his shoulder digging your nails through his suit. You felt the tip of his claws against your skin, arching your back from the table feeling his free hand go to your thigh gripping it holding you in place. After the third mark he went to an open space giving it light kisses, “Don’t move Mi Vida..” He whispered before digging his fangs into your neck.

You whimpered in pain but mixed with pleasure feeling the stingy feeling start to form. “F-Fuck!” Miguel hummed in your neck feeling your nails go through his suit to his exposed shoulder scratching it, the pain was so much but it felt so good. Miguel always knew your little pain kink, he thought it was a bit strange but he got used to it kinda enjoying your screams and moans for him whenever he bit you. It hurt..it hurt so bad..but that was the fun of it, you loved every moment of it but couldn’t help but scream his name feeling his bites get harder feeling blood getting drawn, he smirked before whispering, “That’s right.”

“Scream for me mi amor.”

[catboybiologist]

Transition journal and documentation: Jan and Feb of 2024

Measurements for January are up, and February will be soon to follow! Tagging @whalesharkcat and @trans4hire here. If you want to be tagged when I post these, let me know! The advice for injections is in the journal below.

Some quick notes to clarify things:

I'm consolidating qualitative observations into my journal. Oftentimes these haven't been easy to cleanly classify into different categories of observation, so I'm not really gonna bother.

As I'm sure you've realized, the timing of these observations isn't consistent. I have a private document with exact date stamps for everything, and these are mostly right at the end of the month. But my levels checks don't match up to this cleanly, so I group them with the closest set of other measurements. Sometimes I don't have one that cleanly fits.

I can't trust myself to measure height anymore, to be blunt. I want to ask the doctor every time but chicken out about it easily.

But anyways.

And now, as a journal, a brief summary of my thoughts on the past two months:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*deep breathing*

fuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkk

Okay. So. I'm not gonna list off everything that's happened since the year started. So many independent things started happening, one after the other, that I had to start formatting it as a bulleted list to tell people I know irl what's been going on. Each one has been a crisis on its own- massive emotional events, health problems, health problems in people close to me, transphobic drama with former "friends", academic&research problems, and a resulting mental health spiral. And all of this leading up to my qualifying exams at the end of February, for which I barely scraped by and passed.

But. With all of this. There's silver linings.

The biggest one is that the start of this year has been a stress test of my overall emotional state since starting HRT. I'm not gonna lie- if all of this had happened a year ago, I don't think I would be here now. I either would have completely snapped and done something I regret, or... yeah. But as it stands? I cried. A lot. I isolated a bit. I had mood swings and anxiety and anger and excitement and relief and highs and lows beyond my wildest dreams. It was intense. It was not pretty. But it was cathartic, and healthy. Before this, I would've processed all of this as a generic, stressful, anxiety-ridden malaise, that would've weighed down on me until a breaking point. As it stands, however, I made it. Not in a neat way, not even really in an emotionally stable way, but I made it. And there is no fucking way that would be true pre-HRT. I think I can genuinely say at this point that estrogen has been life saving for me.

In the middle of all this, I switched to injections, right at the start of February. A mistake? Maybe, but I'm too fed up with delaying my progress because "the time isn't right", so I stubbornly refused to delay that change any further. It's a goal I worked out with my provider ahead of time and I stuck to it. So how's that been?

It's been an incredible and WILD experience. I'm on estradiol valerate. For those that don't know, estradiol is conjugated with another compound, which is then cleaved over time in your body to release it. For injections, that results in a peak irculating levels about 1-3 days afer injections. Some people feel it more than others- and holy shit, do I feel it. This has given rise to "the Sundays", because on Sundays, I'm going fucking nuts. My senses are heightened, and I start craving and reacting to physical touch in intense ways. It's not always sexual- while arousal comes easier to me the closer I am to peak, mostly I just become a cuddleslut. It is WILD. I'm also more emotional and cry more easily. Some cis female friends I have confirmed that it mirrors the feelings they get at a certain point in their monthly cycle, so essentially the fluctuating levels are giving me the sensory and emotional effects of a period every week.

The flip side of this is that I feel like shit on Thursdays, like I missed a sublingual dose when I was on that. After the first two weeks, I started taking 2mg sublingual on Wednesday night and Thursday mornings to avoid this, which helped a lot. My provider specifically said this was a good idea, so if you're dealing with that yourself, consider trying it out. I might move to a 5-day injection interval instead, but we'll see.

I've only had one problem with injections so far, which I'm dealing with right now- on my fifth self injection ever, I had unsteady hands and hesitation before stabbing myself, causing a not-great needle stick. Currently, I have a nasty looking injection bruise. Not painful, and healing pretty well, but not fantastic to look at. Self injecting has been intimidating and scary, moreso than I thought it would be. But the actual physical pain is much, MUCH less than I thought it would be, its just that the lizard brain refuses to stab yourself.

If you're thinking of switching to injections, here's a bit of my advice:

keep as many oral/sublingual pills on hand as you can anyways. These will be helpful if you feel your injections aren't carrying you emotionally for the entire interval, or if you don't have an environment where you can inject regularly

If you have a provider, they should provide a nurse tutorial and consultation for you to inject properly. If they don't, try to insist on one. They'll give better advice than I can.

think less, do more. Ideally, the actual moment of the stab should be painless. Be quick and steady about it. The fluid entering feels like pressure and slight burning, but nothing more than that.

vary your injection sites. A doctor or nurse should explain this to you, but this reduces risk of doing what I did and bruising yourself.

be extremely sterile about things. All of the wiping down and sterile technique you'll hear? Don't fuck around with it. Infection is no joke, and absolutely can happen.

Purchase spare needles and syringes from a pharmacist or online. Several reasons for this- one, if you make a mistake and a needle is no longer sterile, you don't want to hesitate about throwing it away. And two... well, let's make a second point about this.

If you want to stock up on estradiol for the future (if you're worried about future access to HRT), this can be easier with injections- but you have to be careful, and you'll need extra needles (for the love of fuck, do not reuse needles). Vials will always have excess medication, because it allows standard volumes to fill and distribute, and it also ensures that needle draws will always be able to be fully submerged. Do NOT try to run your vial out. You WILL run into sterility and contamination issues. That said, vial expiration dates are typically measured from time of first puncture. This will vary, but for me, I was told that the vials are good for 4 weeks after the first puncture. This is overcautious, but not egregiously so. My recommendation would be to use each vial for 1-2 extra punctures, and open the next vial a bit later. Still get prescription refills as frequently as you can. That way, you can stock up on unpucntured vials in case anything happens to your supply. THIS SAID- if you notice ANYTHING wrong with the vial- if the seal isn't containing the fluid properly, if bits of the seal are falling into the medication, if you can see a noticable hole in the seal, DO NOT USE THAT VIAL. Look me in the fucking eye. Do. Fucking. NOT. get sepsis. Do not fuck around with this. The flexibility to be cautious about your vials is a great reason to stock up on a bit extra in the first place.

To anyone in the US, if you're comfortable with doing this to stock up, I would highly, HIGHLY recommend starting this now. Slowly start using your vials for 1-2 punctures extra, stock up unbroken vials. Just in case something bad happens after the elections.

Typically, your medication will come with two sizes of needles- a draw needle (puncture the seal and draw medication into the syringe) and an injection needle. You might want to consider going *slightly* smaller on one or both of those needles. Estradiol is dissolved in a viscous oil as medication, and can be difficult to draw and dispense as a result. But, if you're patient, a smaller gauge might help. For the draw needle, it can help do less damage to the seal and preserve it a bit longer. For the injection needle, if you have a bit more sensitive skin, it might be comforting. Don't deviate too much, though, ESPECIALLY without a medical professional involved.

Remember that I'm not a medical professional, please consult one whenever possible.

I'm still on spiro for now, and I'm continuing it until my next levels check comes back clean. I don't want to erase months of progress getting my levels up by dropping it too early.

Measurement-wise, there hasn't been much change. But I'm starting to realize that the measurements aren't really telling the full story. My breasts look so much larger and, for lack of a better word, breast-like than they did even a couple months ago, but that hasn't been coming through in the measurements very well. I think what's happening is that my fat around my sides is shrinking at the same time my breasts are growing. This is reflected a bit in terms of underbust and waist measurements, but it still seems more dramatic than those are letting on.

Face wise, I think I'm really seeing some changes now. It's hard to put into words, but I'm starting to look more and more androgynous or femme by default, especially if I shave. I'm estatic, honestly, and I hope the trend continues. My chin and nose continue to be problems, but as the structure of the face around them changes, that's becoming less and less true.

I've been getting laser, but so far it's done pretty much nothing. There's lag time, and some of my health issues meant that I had to delay a session and get both sessions at a much lower power than I would've like. I was really hoping to have visible hair removal by June or so, but it looks like that's not happening. That kinda stings, and is a huge blow to my ability to pass by the one-year mark, which has been my target.

I think my boymoding has been holding, for the most part, although its been harder. Even with my sports bras, small bumps are visible under a t shirt, and the face changes won't be unnoticable forever. I've def been more loudly bisexual, and I think most people just write it off as me being fruity. Cis people can also be pretty oblivious, especially when changes are gradual. That being said, I've been coming out slowly to people, giving my usual speech of "I'm still presenting as a man for now, but just so you know this is what's going on", which removes a lot of the pressure and anxiety from boymoding. Still, I haven't told everyone (notably, labmates and family), and my timeline of social transition between June and August seems to be holding steady.

So uh, yeah. If you're curious about anything specifically, I'm an open book, although I may move it to DMs if it gets too personal. Hope that my progress updates are helpful to at least someone!

[anim-ttrpgs]

Composure, Tiers of Fear, and Monsters in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Time to make another post about a cool mechanic in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, this time about Composure, a mechanic that has actually been mentioned a bunch of our other posts because it interacts with a lot of other mechanics, but hasn’t gotten its own post. Hopefully this will make all those other posts make a lot more sense.

So, every PC in Eureka has a Composure of 7. Think of Composure as kind of an emotional HP, though it is not ‘sanity’. Composure loss represents stress, fear, fatigue, and anything else that can make people not quite work at their peak performance.

Here’s how that works:

Normally, a character’s base stats for any skill max out at +3. +3 in Eureka is actually a very good modifier and will make the roll very very likely to succeed, and it represents expertise in the subject of the skill in question.

Composure, however, caps those skills. If a PC has 7/7 Composure, they’re fine, and their skills are unaffected. But a base skill modifier(the modifier that comes from putting skill points into a skill) can never be higher than the level of a PC’s current Composure. So if a PC has only 2/7 Composure, then that +3 becomes a +2. Skills that were already +2 are unaffected, but the PC now can’t make use of the full extent of their skill. Their hands are shaking, sweat is dripping in their eyes, they’re tired, and they’re more likely to mess up because of all this. At 1/7 Composure, their skills max out at +1, and at 0/7 Composure, their skills max out at +0. Thankfully, Composure cannot go into the negatives, but having +0s at best for all rolls is pretty bad.

There are ways to get around the Composure cap, but I’m not going to get into that for the sake of simplicity. You can find the full rules explanation for free in the shareware version of the rulebook on our website.

One way that PCs lose Composure is by making Composure Rolls whenever they encounter something particularly threatening. Failing these rolls takes away Composure. The modifier for these rolls is dictated by their Tiers of Fear.

-3 Horrific: -2 Terrifying: -1 Frightening: 0 Unnerving: +1 Creepy: +2 Obnoxious: +3 Ridiculous:

Tiers of Fear is a little chart on the character sheet that tells you how scared they are of certain things. There are mandatory Fears that must go on this chart, such as gunfighting, but players can also add their own.

What is “horrifying” and what is “ridiculous” varies from person to person. For example, an adventurous whip-swinging college professor who brawls with Nazis on a seemingly regular basis might consider a fistfight Obnoxious and a shootout Unnerving at worst, but any kind of snake is firmly in the realm of Terrifying or worse.

Whip-slinging Archaeologist Example Tiers of Fear -3 Horrific: Snakes -2 Terrifying: -1 Frightening: Monster +0 Unnerving: Witchcraft/Magic, Gunfight, Blood/Gore, Death, Corpse +1 Creepy: Arachnids +2 Obnoxious: Extreme Heights +3 Ridiculous: Fistfight, Melee Weapon Fight

So when gun combat starts, the PCs must first make a Composure Roll with a modifier based on how much they fear getting shot at. A worse modifier, obviously, makes it more likely they will lose Composure points.

There are also ways to lose a flat amount of Composure points, such as by skipping a meal or staying up all night, and ways to restore Composure points, such as eating 3 meals a day and getting a full night of sleep(resulting in a restoration of 2 Composure points a day.) Composure points can also be restored by the PCs comforting each other. See the rulebook for the full rules.

Here’s where it gets really interesting, though.

PCs that are literally Monsters.

Monsters are not limited to +3 in Skills, they’re supernaturally powerful, certain skills can go up to +6 or sometimes even higher. (They can still only put 3 skill points into a skill though. See the full rulebook for rules on how to make a monster PC.) link

Because their skills can go so high, they obviously start feeling the effects of the Composure cap a lot sooner, but for a lot of types of monsters, the way they gain and lose Composure is very different. Vampires, obviously, do not fear guns very much, nor do they have to worry about eating normal food or getting a good night’s sleep. This means that while their opportunities to lose Composure are fewer, they also have fewer ways to gain it… that’s where the part about eating people comes in.

Monsters eat people to restore composure. Not every monster literally “eats” people, but you get the idea. They hunt people and do their thing, or else, organically by the way Composure works, their supernatural powers will start to wane. This gives monster PCs a choice: Do they eat innocent bystanders to keep their strength at its peak, or do they let themselves wither and soldier on weak and helpless in the hopes of sparing more lives?

Note: No, you cannot just eat “bad people” who “deserve” to be eaten. If you have enough time, foresight, and detective skills to effectively and consistently determine if every meal is a “bad person” that “deserves” to die, why haven’t you already solved the whole mystery by yourself then, hotshot? Engaging in one’s True Nature may be a necessity for continued existence, but do not pretend this is an act of heroism.

You can pick up the free shareware version of this game from the download link on our website, or the full version for $5 from our Patreon.

[slavghoul]

Hello, I prepared some statistics to give you a short overview of Ghost's amazingly successful 2022. It is based on data I collected between 22/12/2021 and 22/12/2022.

-

The big Ghost event of 2022 was of course the release of the band's fifth album, IMPERA.

Since March 11, it has sold nearly 500,000 copies, won the American Music Award for Favorite Rock Album and received a Grammy nomination for Best Metal Performance ('Call Me Little Sunshine').

Within the first week of its release, the album reached #2 on the Billboard 200 (ranking the 200 most popular music albums and EPs in the United States) and ranked in the top 20 best-selling albums in 19 countries across the world:

#1 in Sweden, Austria, Germany, Finland, Spain

#2 in US, UK, Belgium, Norway, Netherlands

#3 in Australia, Canada

#5 in Switzerland, Ireland, France

#7 in Poland

#8 in Hungary

#12 in Denmark, Portugal

#20 in Italy

IMPERA is Ghost’s best charting album to date.

-

On YouTube, the band amassed a staggering 260 million views. 840,000 people subscribed to the channel this year, which makes up 42% of all current subscribers.

5 most watched videos on YouTube in 2022:

Mary On A Cross (Official Audio) – 32 million views

Call Me Little Sunshine (Official Music Video) – 15 million views

Square Hammer (Official Music Video) – 11 million views

Mary On A Cross (Live in Tampa 2022) – 8.2 million views

Spillways (Official Music Video) – 6.8 million views

-

On Spotify, the band amassed 1,285,625 new followers. That’s around 61% of all followers since the band appeared on the platform.

5 most streamed songs on Spotify in 2022:

Mary On A Cross -  193,709,473 streams

Call Me Little Sunshine – 41,108,589 streams

Square Hammer – 29,720,042 streams

Dance Macabre – 26,494,053 streams

Spillways – 24,910,870 streams

-

It goes without saying that the viral success of Mary On A Cross on TikTok brought in a lot of new fans this year, but the magnitude of it becomes even more astonishing if you look at numbers.

On this graph, I marked a few events that resulted in a noticeable spike in the number of monthly listeners on Spotify, including the approximate time when MOAC began to gain traction on TikTok. As you can see, nothing, not even the release of a new album, gave the band as much attention as the 3-year old song suddenly raising in popularity on one single platform.

Between end of July and beginning of October, the number of monthly listeners on Spotify skyrocketed from 2.5 million to 12 million. This is a 380% increase.

Although the numbers have been in decline since then, it appears that for the past month they have stayed at a steady 9 million. As of today (Dec 22, 2022) the exact number is 9,110,996. Exactly a year ago (Dec 22, 2021) the number was 1,999,951. A hefty 355% increase in only a year.

-

Some other milestones and fun facts:

On June 7, Cirice, Dance Macabre, and Square Hammer were all certified Gold by the RIAA for sales of 500,000 units in the USA. Following the viral success, Mary On A Cross was also certified Gold on November 20.

The band's most liked post on Instagram this year was a video of Papa throwing the first pitch at the White Sox game (273,241 likes).

The episode of Jimmy Kimmel Live where Ghost performed Call Me Little Sunshine was watched by around 1.3 million people.

In September, Ghost reached over 12 million monthly listeners on Spotify and was the 450th most streamed artist globally - that's 450 out of over 11 million!

As of today with over 1.6 billion accumulated streams Ghost is one of the 1,000 most successful artists on the platform of all time (currently #808).

On September 11, Mary On A Cross peaked at #1 in the Viral Hits chart on Spotify in 54 countries across the world.

It was also the highest charting Swedish song on the platform in 2022, peaking globally at #31.

-

At this point I think it’s safe to declare that Ghost’s global success reached unprecedent heights this year and even allowed them to officially join the ranks of mainstream artists. With all of the above, 70 completed shows this year and many more to come in 2023, and with media of the likes of The Wall Street Journal proclaiming Ghost “the next generation of arena stars,” it looks like that the band is well on the way to become one of the biggest rock acts of this century. Not bad for a side project started by one Swede in his bedroom somewhere in Linköping. 

Let us hope 2023 will be as devilishly good!

[stat1cstarz]

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ Warnings:Smut,P in V,oral,Vincent keeps his mask on, because I have a mask kink,Reader is shorter than Vincent, but no height or body type is mentioned, reader has female genitalia

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ Des:You take one of Vincent’s sweater, and try to refurbish it, but it doesn’t go as you expected…

Both you and Vincent loved his sweaters, they all looked the exact same, but some were newer than others. But they were the only shirts he wore, and you loved using them as well, either to sleep in, or to use as a heater, since they were always warm. His heat would regularly etch into the fabric of the clothes, no matter how many times you washed them. But due to your love for Vincent’s sweaters, you used your knitting skills, and made something out of it.

You did all the planning behind your lovers back, not knowing what he’d do if he found out that you damaged his favorite garment. You grabbed one of his pencils, etching an idea onto some paper, his sweater wasn’t to big on you, it was slightly baggy and reached your upper thigh. Perfect to turn into a two piece, a mini skirt and matching sweater, maybe you could put fishnet into some of the rips.

It was about a week later until you got to the knitting process, a few specks of blood decorated your skin, from pricking yourself with the sharp tip of the needle. And a few loose strings vined off the sweater, as well as a few shreds in the already old and delicate fabric. But it was finally finished, you checked the elastic first, before you thought about trying it on.

Once the garment seemed wearable, you went to try it on, you didn’t wanna change in the basement, just in case Vincent came back, and you knew he’d B line for the basement. He was on his weakly run with Bo, collecting body’s and cars of the people that ran upon the town and made the dumb choice to stay. Luckily for you, it took a while to get it done, it made it easier with two trucks, but their was still a lot to do.

You picked up the two piece, checking if the coast was clear, knowing that it was, you continued up the stairs. You pushed open the door, and locked it. You didn’t want Bo or Lester seeing you half naked, and you didn’t wanna deal with the wrath of your dangerous lover. You slipped off your t shirt and shorts, you didn’t have a bra on underneath, and you didn’t bring one either. But you were sure that the sweater would hide the goods from any peeping eyes, you slipped on the top first, it fit perfectly.

It was slightly loose around your chest, so it wasn’t suffocating you, but it wasn’t loose enough to make you appear frumpy. You were very proud of your work, next came the skirt, it was sexy yet adorable at the same time. It was high waisted and ended near your upper thigh, and the light color made your skin pop, and the tightness showed off the swell of thighs and ass. You almost wanted to show it to Vincent, maybe if he saw the end result, he wouldn’t care about the death of his clothing.

And by the time you made up your mind, you heard the door slam, one of them was home. You hoped it was both of them or just Vincent preferably. You unlocked the door to the bathroom, and quietly walked downstairs, you saw Vincent make his way to the basement, just as you thought. He didn’t seem to notice you, but that made the surprise much better. You made your way down to his workshop, stopping at the peak of the stairs.

You looked down at him, he had his coat off, only in his sweater,apron,overalls,boots,and satchel. He was currently fixing up the bloody wounds on a recent trespasser. You snuck down to him, walking up behind your lover, and tapping his shoulder. He slightly jumped, until he turned around, and noticed you. He almost didn’t notice that his sweater had been cut, he just thought it you were wearing the full peace.

You backed up slightly wanting to give him a full view, causing his face to flush, not in anger, but in adoration. You giggled at him, you’d been with this man for a while yet you can still get him nervous from the simplest things. It was quite amusing to you, being able to fluster a mammoth that kills people fora living, it was almost empowering to you.

“Hey baby, you’re not mad are you” you said softly, getting a bit closer and twirling his dark strands in between your fingers. He got undeniably hard. “I understand if you’re upset, and I can get rid of it if you want.” If he could speak,he would tell you that was the last thing he wanted. But due to his hatred of speaking, he could only use sign language for the time being.

‘No, keep it’ he signed fluidly.

He stuck his strong yet lanky arms out to you, sinking them around your lower half and tapping your right ass cheek. You jumped up, locking your legs around his hips, and wrapping your arms round his neck. He instinctively brought you over to his work bench that sat in the corner of his basement.

“I guess you like it?” You asked him, innocently.

He didn’t give a direct answer, but what you got was definitely better, he slipped his tongue in between your plump lips, groaning into your mouth. He slipped both hands under your top, getting ready to unclip your bra, until he felt two of your pebbled nipples grace his waxy fingers. He felt his tip leak pre cum just from it, he than lifted up your shirt, twirling your nipples in between his fingers.

He lifted up his waxy veil, revealing his scared mouth, and wrapping it around your sensitive buds. He sucked on them viciously, as his hands snaked down south and massaged your upper thigh. He gently nibbled at your puffy nipples until they were red and sore. And he didn’t stop until your breast were covered in his saliva, and once your swoll breast were soaked, he pulled up his computer chair. He sat directly in front of you, grabbing your waist and pulling you near him.

“Vincent” you said, as a fresh coat of arousal sheeted your pussy.

He slipped up your mini skirt, noticing the wet patch, he snuck his head closer to the patch, inhaling your musky scent. His favorite scent of yours, it almost rivaled with the perfume you wore everyday. ‘Fucking love you so much, how did I get so lucky’ he signed at you, as he slipped off your panties, letting it fall down the length of your legs.

His lips immediately connected to your lips, causing you to moan out loudly for him, as his blue eye stared up at your lewd face. Your name came out of your lips in a breathy and needy tempo, he then grabbed both of your hands, allowing you to place them in his mane. You tugged at the tangled strands, feeling some wax bump your fingers. “Fuck- Vince” .

He could tell how close you were, by how your hole was clenching around nothing, and how you were clutching his head in between your thighs. He added two of his fingers into the mix, roughly playing with your sensitive little nub, rubbing the nerves around in his fingers. Your salty release coated his chin and stubble, he quickly pulled away from you, licking off whatever he could reach, using his finger to scoop up the rest and lick it off his digits. ‘So sweet’ he said, almost groaning at the taste that he had grown to love.

He than picked you up, repositioning you across the desk, bending you over it. He got on his knees behind you, he was almost edging himself at this point. He admired your perfect shaped ass, kneeding the plump flesh. He gave some delicate kisses and nibbles onto the swelled flesh, watching it turn a shade of red from his adoration. Your release and his slobber coated it, making him feel a certain way about it, making him way harder, if that was possible.

He worked at his clothing, ridding himself of his apron and his overalls, dropping it to his knees. His cock was desperately trying to free itself from the confines of his boxers. He slipped himself out from the hole pocket in the front. He was to lazy to drop them as well, so the slit would have to work. “Vincent, need it please” you said, backing yourself up against him and trying to get him inside you.

He only kissed your head, before rutting against your hole, than sinking himself inside you. He watched your tightness swallow his girth as you moaned loudly. He wrapped his arms around your waist, before aiming right for your neck. He slowly humped you, his balls snug against your ass, as he attacked your neck. He quickened his pace, somehow driving himself deeper into your warmth. Your walls massaged his girth as his name left your mouth.

You heard the door slam shut once more, so he quickly put one of his hands over your mouth, as his teeth nibbled at the delicate cartilage of your ear, allowing you to hear all his groans and growls. He felt his orgasm bubble up inside him, but he wanted you to release before he did. He aimed right for your abused clit, vigorously rubbing it and rolling it in between the tips of his fingers.

You quickly released, letting your cum dribble down his fingers and your inner thigh, after a few more pumps he released deep inside you. He pulled out directly after, dropping his knees once more, holding you by the hips to make sure you didn’t move. He watched as your releases dripped down between your thighs, and smirked to himself. He only dressed himself, but left you in just the garment you made, not wanting you to ruin your panties.

He picked you up bridal style, laying you on the cot and than placing your head on his chest, allowing you to cuddle up to him as he mumbled sweet nothings into your ear.

[neteyamsyawntu]

Kinktober 04

Choking / Spanking

Lo’ak x Human!reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, size difference, asphyxiation, light spanking, jealous Lo'ak, interspecies relationship, smut, P in V, fingering, dom Lo'ak, bratty reader

Inspired by a request from @bubbletae97

“You are such a wimp!” Spider laughed, nudging you in the arm with his fist. “Why? Because I don’t take joy in climbing deadly heights with no safety equipment?! I’ll pass. Thanks.” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the blue painted man behind you. You had finally finished your work for the day in the lab and while you were all for exploring Pandora with Spider and Lo’ak, the Hallelujah Mountains made you extremely nervous. They were nice to look at sure, but climbing and running on vines several hundreds of feet up in the air was not your cup of tea. “Why don’t we just go to the village?”, “There’s nothing to do there, you’ll be bored to death!” Lo’ak interjected from his crouched position by your desk. “No, you will be bored to death.” You chuckle, leaning over to poke Lo’ak on the tip of his nose, with your petite finger, “Besides I feel like I haven’t seen Kiri in ages, she’s been so busy helping out Mo’at recently, I want to check up on her!”.

With a sly smile you swivel around in your chair to face Spider, a telling look in your eye knowing that Kiri had always been Spider’s weakness. Lo’ak groans in defeat the minute he sees Spider’s expression shift, “How is it you always manage to get your way?”, “Because you have a hard time saying ‘no’ to this.” You say lifting a delicate hand under your chin as you present the na’vi man with a sweet smile. Lo’ak merely rolls his eyes, yet the hint of a smile on his lips shows that your statement isn’t too far off. With a quick peak around the corner to alert Norm that both you and Spider were leaving the lab, you each grab an expo pack off of the rack by the airlock, Lo’ak leaving his own temporary mask on the rack across from it before making your leave.

Gandering around the village you are filled with a sense of nostalgia. Coming here as a child you felt completely inferior to the looming Na’vi around you, yet that didn’t make you any less interested in them. Even now as a full grown woman you still felt so small compared to them, of course now you were so used to it. You hadn’t been to the village in weeks, having been stuck at the lab being Max’s assistant on his in lab assignments. It almost felt like home to be back. “Y/N?” The sudden voice brings you back to reality as a Na’vi man strides over to you with a cheerful look on his face, “‘Älek!” You exclaim, skillfully moving past Lo’ak and Spider toward the man as he crouched down to your level with a soft chuckle, placing the basket of fruit that was at his hip down between his legs. Both Lo’ak and Spider looking equally confused as you eagerly ran up to the forager.

 ‘Älek was the oldest son of Ka’ani. While his younger brother delighted in the thrill of the hunt, ‘Älek was less rambunctious and much more gentle, taking up great skill in both foraging and weaving. He was always so gentle and composed. Lo’ak eyed him up and down cautiously, noting ‘Älek’s tail tapping delightedly against the ground behind him. “It has been many moons since I last saw you, little one. I am glad to see you back in the village.”, “I’m glad to be back! Gosh I’ve been so cooped up at the lab, I forgot how breathtaking this place is..” you say in awe as you briefly look around at your surroundings. ‘Älek let’s out an appeased “Hm” as he takes a gentle finger under your chin to direct your gaze back to him, staring deep into your eyes, “There are much more breathtaking views than this village, but I’ll thank you for your modesty on behalf of our people.” ‘Älek chuckles as your cheeks become painted in a light pink shade. “I uh- sure… did you put braids in your hair?” You fumble nervously, taking note of the few strands of beaded braids that decorated his loosely curled hair, trying to steer the conversation off its current track, “Ha.. only a few, I still prefer my hair to be left loose. It is less heavy that way.”.

Meanwhile throughout this exchange, Lo’ak’s tail was batting wildly behind him, his hands in tight fists as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying his best to behave, yet his patience was wearing thin. As you are about to respond, you are caught off guard as ‘Älek leans forward, his eyes nearly closing as he inhales a slow breath of air, his head cocking to the side as his eyes wander along your form, “You smell quite nice today, tawtute.” Your mouth began opening and closing like a fish out of water as you tried to find the right words to respond, your blush having now spread to your ears, yet before you can respond, you feel a large hand jerk you backward by the back of your shirt, causing you to trip back into the perpetrator himself. 

You look up with a furious expression that quickly turns into concern and maybe a bit of fear when you see Lo’ak baring has fangs down at ‘Älek, who seemed unphased by the challenge, before his gaze fell back to you, “I suppose I will see you another time, Y/N”. Lo’ak now hissed in response, pulling you forcefully to stand slightly behind him, in attempts to get you out of ‘Älek’s line of sight. With that, the na’vi forager picked up his basket of fruit and went on his way, still holding his calm demeanor. The hairs on the end of Lo’ak’s tail was standing in all directions, his fists were trembling so much you could almost see the heat pouring from his palms. You could tell he was mad, pissed even, but you couldn’t help the growing resentment that was festering toward the front of your mind, quickly moving to smack his hand away from the back of your shirt, creating a reasonable distance between the two of you. 

“Excuse me, what was that about?” You glower, crossing your arms over your chest, scowling up at the 9 foot Na’vi before you. “He was too close…” Lo’ak grumbled, clenching his jaw as he tried to withhold his temper. “He was just being friendly!”, “Friendly?! I saw how he was looking at you, Y/N. The guy looked like he was two seconds away from scenting you!”. You roll your eyes with a exasperated scoff, “Scent me? You’re being ridiculous, Lo’ak.”. At that moment, Lo’ak let another hiss slip from his throat, turning around as he began to pace to try and walk off some of his unease. “Bro chill, just take it easy.” Spider finally chimed in seeing the clear steam of anger practically protruding from his friend’s ears. Lo’ak halted in his tracks, glaring down at him before his heated gaze shifted to you. In a matter of seconds you feet are being lifted from off the the ground as Lo’ak practically slings you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. “Lo’ak put me down!” You exclaim, squirming vigorously in his steel grip. 

“Hey bro, let Kiri know we’ll see her later.” Lo’ak yells to Spider from over his shoulder as he begins to make his way toward the edge of the village. Your heart immediately dropped to your stomach as he let out a quick “yip” to summon his ikran, which was all you needed to confirm where he was taking you, “No! Absolutely no way in hell, Lo’ak! I’m not going to the mountains, now put me down!”. Lo’ak continued to ignore your complaints as he set you up on the large winged beast, before making the bond with it and climbing up behind you. Pulling your back flush against his torso, between his spread legs, Lo’ak holds you with one arm around the waist, leaning into your ear dauntingly growling, “You will go where I want you to go.”. His tone of voice sent a shiver down your spine, deeming you speechless as you both take off on the back of the ikran, desperately cling to his arm for dear life, eyes clamped shut.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest when the two of you finally landed on one of the floating mountains. Your initial response when the ikran’s talons first hit the ground was to bolt for it, even if you had no where to run to, you wouldn’t give Lo’ak the satisfaction of being your only life line. This plan however fell through when his forearm that had remained wrapped around your waist throughout the flight, was still securely holding you to him. Plan number two… blatant annoyance. In a matter of seconds you are wriggling and squirming recklessly in his grasp, screaming profanities at the top of your lungs. “God damn it, you are one noisy little bitch.” Lo’ak cursed, lifting you into his arms as he dismounted his ikran, allowing it to fly off as he walked toward a seemingly smoother surface of the mountain, “EXCUSE ME??”, “Don’t act stupid, you heard me.”. 

In a matter of seconds Lo’ak had you pinned to the floor of the rocky surface, his large hands holding your wrists above your head as his golden eyes stared down at you. Strangely he didn’t seem as irritated or pissed off as he had been before, now gazing at you with a sort of…hurt? You could feel your heart tinge for a moment as confusion washed over your own expression. “You think I was really going to stand by and watch ‘Älek eye fuck you?” He grumbled, in almost a mumble. If it weren’t for the fact that his face was dangerously close to your own, you probably wouldn’t even had heard him, “What- Lo’ak are you really this upset that I was talking to him?” You ask in a slightly softer tone, not wanting to add fuel to the fire that you could see burning low in his eyes. “I’m upset that you let him talk to you like that and you sure as hell don’t deserve to be looked at like someone’s meal.”. 

Your heart softened at his words. Sure you don’t necessarily agree with how Lo’ak initially handled the situation, but you at least had a better understanding of why he acted the way he did. Aside from his reactions typically being over the top, Lo’ak had always been more protective over you when it came to the other Na’vi. You’d even catch him giving warning looks to some of your male coworkers back at the lab a few times. “Oh Lo…”, “Would you really let him scent you? Let him claim you if that’s what he wanted?”. Taken aback by his questioning you cock a brow at him, a cocky expression now painting your features, “Why? Are you jealous, Lo-Lo?” You coo in a mocking tone, his grip on your wrists tighten at this, “Eywa, you’re such a little brat when you want to be..” he growls with a roll of his eyes, “Quite frankly I don’t really think that’s any of your business..”.

Immediately you begin to regret that statement as the fire that had been previously burning low behind his eyes now fumed with new life, you could swear his irises even glowed for a moment. “Not my business?” Lo’ak growled, lowering his head to brush his cheek against your own as he pressed his lips to your ear, “You make it my business, tawtute. When not a single Na’vi knows you the way I do… the things that make you squirm. The secret desires that you mewl in your sleep.” Your cool demeanor is dropped in a matter of seconds after he says this. Your almost certain Lo’ak can hear your heart beating through your chest at this rate. A broken whimper escapes you as his tongue sneaks out to lick a long slow stripe up the side of your throat, before guiding his lips back to your ear once more, “Does ‘Älek know you moan my name in your sleep?”.

Eyes blown wide you suddenly felt extremely small under this 9 foot tall man, wanting nothing more than to crawl into your own skin like a void. “I- I don’t.. how-“, “A few nights ago when I was leaving the lab late and you were already asleep at your desk. For a minute I thought you were calling me, but I realized you were still asleep when you told me how good I was making you feel.”. A dark blush now deeply paints your features as you recall the specific dream that he was mentioning. It was the most recent dream you had of Lo’ak and you could remember the details vividly. It had felt so real. The feel and image of his pelvis bucking between your thighs, hitting right where you craved him most always made your stomach swarm with butterflies each time the images popped into your head. “You mumbled things like… ‘faster. Harder Lo’ak. I wanna cum on your cock so badly’. “ He chuckled as he shifted his hands to hold both of your wrists in only one of his palms, while the other slid down to cup your throat, his thumb soothing over your lips, making you instinctively clench your thighs together, a small gasp breaking your shocked silence, “Such a foul little mouth you have when you think no one’s listening…”. 

A smirk slowly creeps it’s way into his lips as he takes in your flustered appearance, noting your reaction to his hand on your neck, “You like that, baby?” He coos, slightly tightening his grip, coaxing out the smallest whine from you as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, “Haha… you dirty girl… is that what you want then?” Lo’ak asks as he lifts himself enough to get a clear look of your body below him, “W-want what?” You ask sheepishly, still holding your thighs together, “You want me to make you cum on my cock, sevin?” He purrs, allowing the hand that was binding your wrists to slowly fall down your body, over your breasts and down your curves, until his hand is encompassing the flesh of your thigh, his eyes boring into you with an inviting allure. “Fuck yes…” you half moan just at the thought of his offer. With a satisfied smirk, Lo’ak carefully spreads your legs, licking his lips as he eyes your clothed cunt hungrily. 

“I thought so… now be a good little slut and strip for me.” The look in his eyes never faltered and neither did your eagerness as you quickly fiddle with the button of your shorts before lifting your hips to shimmy them down your legs, releasing a slight gasp as you feel Lo’ak’s hand move from your throat to support your lower back as you rolled your shorts down to your ankles, before kicking them off. Lo’ak’s eyes gleam with want as he takes in the view of the damp spot on your panties, a primal growl rumbling in his chest as he guides your hips to lay flat against the rocks once again. You shiver at the breeze against damp panties, yet the thought is quickly erased when Lo’ak’s hands move to grope your breasts through your shirt. His nostrils flaring as as the scent of your arousal struck his senses, subsequently making his hands grip you more firmly in response, before hooking his fingers under the hem of your neckline, and tearing your shirt into two in one swift movement. 

“Lo’ak!” You try to argue, yet you couldn’t deny part of you was aroused by the action, “I’m barely even getting started, tawtute. I’m gonna mark every inch of your body, so there will be no mistake who you belong to.” And holding true to his promise, Lo’ak eagerly leans down to press his lips against your jaw, kissing and nibbling at it with earnest, starting a steady trail of wet open mouth kisses, occasionally sucking at the areas that made you shiver when he kissed them, earning sweet moans from you as his reward. As he trailed down further to your chest you shyly close your legs, only to be met with a harsh slap against your thigh, causing you to yelp at the sudden sting, “Keep those legs open for me, baby…”. 

With a nervous nod you slowly reopen your legs, watching as a smirk forms it’s way into Lo’ak’s lips at your obedience, “such a good little slut…and all mine.” He hums, guiding his lips down your abdomen until his nose is pressing against your clit, taking in a deep smell of your arousal, “Eywa, you smell so sweet, baby… fuck you’re making me so hard.”. And god was he hard, the tightness in his loincloth was bordering uncomfortable, he could practically feel his tip trying to escape from under the band of it. You suddenly become self conscious as Lo’ak gently shifts your panties to the side, his slender blue fingers gingerly caressing your saturated folds, trying his best to be careful with your small form. “Gotta get you all nice and prepped before you can take me though. I wouldn’t want to hurt my favorite girl.” Lo’ak says, hesitantly pulling his gaze from your cunt to look up at you, leaning his lips to press a kiss to your inner thigh, “You trust me, tìhona?”.

“You sure talk a lot for a guy who seems so needy.” You playfully shoot, spreading your legs wide for him, leaving yourself completely vulnerable to him. The fire in Lo’ak’s flick once more as a lustful growl emerges from his throat, “Such a little brat…” he sneers before dipping his middle finger into your cunt, his eyes glued to your expression as your mouth falls open to allow a whiny moan to escape you. “That’s it… make those pretty noises for me.” He purrs before bringing his lips to your thigh again, latching onto its flesh hungrily as he begins to suck dark marks into it, all while rhythmically thrusting his finger inside you. You find your hands quickly latching onto his braids at a particularly harsh bite, worried his fangs may have drawn blood. 

Again another cocky chuckle from the Na’vi as he pulls his lips away from your thigh with a string of saliva connecting him to your leg, “Easy Y/N. No blood, see?” He says licking a thick stripe up your thigh, guiding his tongue toward your mons. Retracting his finger from you for only a moment, Lo’ak adds a second finger to the mix, the stretch much more noticeable this time, your fingers tightening on his braids. 

“Eywa you’re so tight around my fingers, tìhona… I can’t wait to feel you gripping on my cock..” Lo’ak smirks, watching your face contorts in pleasure as he shoves his fingers inside to the last knuckle, letting out the most lewd noises he’s ever heard from you. For a moment you felt a brief tinge of panic. His fingers were filling you up so nicely, you almost began to worry if you would even be able to take him, yet the thought ceased to be when Lo’ak curled his fingers into the gummy walls of your cunt. “L-Lo’ak!”, “That’s it mama… You sound so pretty when you say my name like that.” Lo’ak purrs slowly guiding his lips up to your ear, kissing tenderly along its shell before sucking your earlobe into his mouth, giving it a generous tug between his teeth, when his fingers begin to coax a squelching sound from your dripping cunt, “So nice and wet for me… you going to cum, Y/N?”. You frantically nod, already feeling the presence of your orgasm tightening in your core, moving your arms to wrap around his neck, not before Lo’ak pulls away from your reach, removing his fingers from you in the process. Confused and dazed you prop yourself up on your elbows watching as he shifts back onto his knees, your eyes almost instantly falling to the pronounced tent in his tweng, before following at he brings his soaked digits to his lips. 

Seductively, Lo’ak allows his tongue to slip from between his lips to hungrily lap at your sweet nectar, his eyes trained on you as he does. A low growl rumbles in his chest as your taste and smell fill his senses. “You want to cum, yawne? Then be a good little slut and come and take this off for me…” he hums enticingly, giving a slight thrust of his hips to direct your eyes back down to his excruciatingly tight loincloth. Keeping your eyes on him, like a yerik cautiously staring at a looming palulukan, you slowly allow your body to move into a similar position on your knees, your hands moving to wrap around toward his tail to slowly begin untying the garment. Your chin resting against his toned chest as you stare up at him with needy puppy dog eyes. Finallying feeling the garment slowly loosen and slip down his hips, you scoot yourself closer, with full intent to climb this na’vi man like a tree, until you are hoisted up into his arms abruptly, his blue precum dampened tip brushing against the slippery entrance of your cunt, conjuring a gasp from you at the sudden movement.

Instinctually your legs find sanctuary around his waist to stop yourself from slipping, to which Lo’ak takes the initiative to press you down onto his fat tip by your hips, your poor tiny little pussy just barely opening enough to take it in it’s entirety. “Feel that?” He growls into your ear, slowly stirring his cock against the resistance of your tightness, “Feels like I’m gonna have to break you to be able to take me. You better hang on, tawtute.”. With vigilance you find your back being pushed into rough surface of the floating mountain, head thrown back with veins protruding from your neck as Lo’ak pushes himself deeper into you. The stretch created by it, feeling as if all your energy had just been drained with a single push as your body is forced to accommodate him. A screech tears itself from your throat, but not of pain. No, instead  it was pure pleasure. The blunt force of his thrust being all it took to draw out your unfinished orgasm from your depths, leaving your cunt spasming around him furiously. 

“Fuuuuck- so fucking tight. You look so sexy stuffed with my cock, baby…” Lo’ak says in a broken groan as you pussy clenches onto him hungrily, his hand shifting to find its place around your neck once more, “… but don’t think just because you came that I’m done with you yet.”. Pulling back his hips, Lo’ak drops his gaze down to watch his cock intrusively push it’s way back into you, deeper, his nose scrunching in a sort of snarl as he feels his tip caress the opening of your cervix, his grip on your throat simultaneously tightening as he repeat the action with a bit more passion, ears pinned flat to his skull, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the shaky moan that would’ve escaped otherwise. “Hnng! S-so much-!” You mewl desperately, wriggling and arching your back as your walls constrict around his girth, leaving no room for even the smallest pocket of air. “That’s it baby… take it all.”.

After taking a moment to recuperate Lo’ak signals his intent with a harsh squeeze of your neck as his hips begin thrusting at a reckless pace into your own, bouncing your small frame with each buck, his other hand moving to hold your hip in place so that he could properly pull out of your cunt that was so eagerly following him with how snug you were holding him inside of you. “Oh shit… Great mother baby, you feel so good.. sooo fucking good.” Lo’ak groans practically gasping for air with how vocal he had become in the span of a couple minutes. Meanwhile your sight becomes slightly blurred from the pressure Lo’ak’s hand all, but swallowing your petite neck. Your body felt as if it were swaying against the power of his thrusts, dizzy from being so light headed, yet it only furthered the pleasure, intensifying it in a glorious high. Your own smaller hand fervently grasping his own to egg him on further, your nails hardly piercing his flesh, feeling your second orgasm billowing in your stomach. “Lo! Lo’ak! Ohh-mmmn fuck!”, “Such a pretty thing with my hand wrapped around your neck. I think blue might be your color baby- haah!” Lo’ak’s breath hitches, feeling your cunt clamp around him once again, sucking him in to both his and your own limits. “Ack- you… you can’t keep squeezing me like that, tìhona- ahh!” 

“Haah.. mm take it, take all of it, Lo.” You mock his earlier words from earlier in a breathless tone as his grip on your throat instinctively tightens as his hips rut into you immaculately, sending you over the edge in a matter of seconds. Your mind wurled from the lack of oxygen, the sensation intoxicating as you try and come down from your aggressive high, “god you really are such a fucking brat.” He curses in a broken moan, when in actuality your words were just as powerful as the fluttering of your cunt as you came undone for a second time. Unable to stop himself, being driven by a force to be as close to you as possible, Lo’ak scoops his arms under your backside, locking your chest against his, rocking into you with a few more livid thrusts before his hips finally still with the release of his seed, remnants of it spilling out from the seams where his and your body met. Complete and utter fullness. “I should piss you off more often.” You sigh in a breathy chuckle, relief finally fills your body when Lo’ak removes his hand on your throat, bending to pepper gentle kisses on it lovingly, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” 

Tag list: @pandoraslxna @dvxsja @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @neteyamsoare@tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsikran @oceanstar19 @hadesbabygurl @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang @anonymousailurophile @netyamstruelove @eyrina-avatar @justcaptiannoodles @teymars @neteyamyanw3 @eyweveng

[i-identify-tanks-in-posts]

Okay. So, last night I was scrolling through my news feed and I came across an article with one of the most dogshit takes I've ever had the misery of reading with my own two eyes.

The article in question? From 'The National Interest', "The M60 Patton could never be built today."

So, come with me as we absolutely rip the fuck out of this dogshit article. (Now is your chance to read it.)

So, first, let me say, that I don't dislike the m60. It's a venerable tank, extremely capable for its time, and the fact that it still sees some use more than 60 years after it's creation says a great deal as to its capabilities.

However, I take great issue with some of this article's claims.

First, the idea that the M60 was some revolutionary miracle tank, developed out of the blue, and rushed to the field before it was ready. To be frank, that's a bold-faced lie. The M60 is the result of a long lineage of medium tanks and MBTs, stretching back to the final days of ww2. A fairly common piece of cold-war tank trivia is that the M60 was never formally called the "Patton", it just looked so much like the m48 "Patton", that the tankers never saw fit to call it anything different. (Below is a comparison of the vehicles: from the front, the tanks can be distinguished by the m48s concave frontal armor, while the m60 has a flat wedge.)

M60:

M48:

The m48, itself, was a development of the m46, which was itself an upgrade of the m26 Pershing, the American medium tank used in the last days of the European theater. So, the idea that the m60 was flawed because of its "revolutionary design" not being given time to be tested is, quite frankly, horseshit.

Next up on the chopping block is the claims that the M60 is still in use by nations today. The article states that, throughout the Middle East, you can find nations that use the m60 and its modernization still today, from Egypt to Saudi Arabia. However, you'll notice that none of these nations are exactly military powerhouses, with Egypt not having won a war that wasn't against starving partisan rebels since the British packed up their shit and went home, and Saudi Arabia quickly transferring to the M1, and offloading as many of their Pattons on other nations as quickly as they can manage. And let's be honest, when's the last time you even thought about the Iranian military?

Next, I'm going to directly quote this line, because it's peak comedy. "in 1991, the United States Marine Corps, one of the most innovative branches in the US military, deployed the M60 in battle against Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi Army." Ah, yes, the Marine Corps, famous for it's innovation and openness to change...

The Marines wouldn't know innovation if it grabbed the crayon out of their mouths. They hate change more than H.P. Lovecraft hated penguins and Irish people. So to come out and say that something is amazing because the Marines are still using it instead of a newer thing? It's peak comedy.

Then, the author goes into his highly-political diatribe about how, because the m60 was so "rushed" and "untested", it's head-and-shoulders above any US defense project since, because it still sees some use by tin-pot dictators, outdated militias, and the Marines in Iraq. However, what he fails to mention is that the m60 was the ultimate result of the 2nd generation of MBT technology, building on a lineage of tanks going back to 1945. The idea that the m60 is special in any way other than being the culmination of a generation or armored vehicle technology is ludicrous, and I sincerely hope that not too many are suckered in by this ex-congressional staffer's bullshit.

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Sweater Weather

Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: While caught out in a snowstorm while on a mission, you resort to desperate measures to keep warm.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Canon violence, slightly injured reader, smut, manhandling, soft sex, facefucking

AN: kinda rushed but i thought it was cute! have a good day lovely people

The mission was long. And hard. And all you wanted now was a nice, long nap.

Steve had brought up this particular mission while you two were hiding in Manila. You always preferred the warmer destinations, even when you worked for SHIELD.

It was a simple mission - too simple in hindsight - the grab-the-file-and-get-out type.

"It's Austria," you sighed, again with the cold. "I know, sweets, but it's an ex-Hydra base. We gotta check it out, make sure they don't have anything they shouldn't."

You nodded, "When do we leave?"

"Wheels up in an hour."

When you landed in Austria, your mood soured quickly. There was a foot of snow surrounding the town, and you trudged through the snow to get to the safehouse - a mile away from the nearest town. You were staking out the safe house when the entire town lost power. No lights, no heating, no appliances. It was going to be a rough couple of days.

You bundled yourself in a coat and blankets while you and Steve went over what you knew. The old Hydra base had been abandoned for a while, but it was one of the few that hadn't been on SHIELD's radar due to the lack of activity in the area. It seemed that they had missed something. It seemed very active now.

You spent the first few days making sure no one suspected you were doing anything suspicious. You stocked up on firewood - making sure you would have enough, even if you ended up snowed in for a couple of days. You tried to get out to some shops, but with the three inches of snow in the local town, no shops were open. You hoped that there was some long-life food still left in the safe house.

When you set out, you silently prayed that the power would come back on by the time you had finished dealing with the agents in the bunker. You also thanked Tony for putting a heater in your suit as part of one of his routine upgrades. You weren't freezing your ass off as you broke into the base.

The bunker itself was powered by some self-generating form of energy - no doubt developed as a result of Loki's scepter in the hands of Baron Von Strucker. The bunker was still working at peak capacity when you and Steve waltzed in the building, guns a-blazing, looking for any signs they were planning something big.

The bunker clearly had been expecting you, launching a full assault on you as soon as you guys walked in. Agents flew left, right, and centre, throwing kicks and punches. The odd bullet was fired at your heads. They were good. But you were much better. You dodged each blow, retaliating with one much harder. They may have had power but it was amateur. You were a battle-hardened professional.

One guy was lucky. He took a baton to your ribcage while you were preoccupied with two other guys. Clearly, he hadn't learned to play fair. You threw the other two guys off you, kicking your assailant into the wall. A nasty crack was the end of him.

You left the bunker exhausted, gripping a nasty bruise that was forming over your ribs. Steve wrapped an arm around you, carrying your weight as you hobbled from the bunker. He abandoned the idea quickly, your height difference making the maneuver awkward. Instead, he wrapped his arms under your thighs, scooping you up bridal style.

You nuzzled into his chest, seeking out his warmth as the snow beat down upon you both. Steve was like a human furnace, his heat radiating through you, keeping you warm even in the hostile temperatures you found yourself in. He smiled down at you, gripping you tighter into his body as you retreated into the trees.

It was about 12 miles from the bunker to the safe house and Steve knew he had to get you both there before the blizzard really hit. There he could check your ribs for the extent of the damage. He prayed that the damage wasn't bad, guilt overtaking his mind. A few seconds of preoccupation on his part led to you being injured. Steve felt terrible.

He was also on high alert. There was no exfil team. They weren't Avengers anymore. They were on their own out here - even Nat wouldn't be able to get here in time if they were attacked.

The trudge through the snow was terrible. Frost covered your hair and his beard, and the chills were racking through your body with more frequency. The snow was seeping through your tactical gear, and given that night was fast falling around them, Steve picked up the pace.

More than once, you offered to walk alongside him, saying that you'd both be faster if you could run, but then an odd step would jolt your body and the pained gasp that would leave your lips was an answer enough.

By the time you reached the house, you had fallen asleep in Steve's arms. He kicked the door open with his toe - the key being a biometric scan of his eye.

You woke up as he sat you down gently on the edge of the sofa.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sleeping beauty." He chuckled as you threw your boot at his head. He caught it easily.

You almost swooned. Sometimes, you thought Steve showed off just to get a reaction out of you. You didn't mind - it was hot.

Steve shut the door with a click, kicking off his shoes by the door. You shivered. Somehow it was colder inside the house than outside. Steve grabbed your bag, throwing a pair of soft clean clothes in your direction, before grabbing some firewood and getting a fire started.

You limped into the bathroom, the coldness making your bones ache. You made quick work of your suit - throwing it into the bathtub, before toweling yourself dry. The wetness of the suit had chaffed at your skin, and the threadbare towel was doing nothing to help the soreness of your skin, but a little itchiness was nothing compared to the hell that would be a cold. Especially since you had no idea when you were getting out of here.

"The power's still out!" Steve called from outside the bathroom. You could tell he was leaning on the door frame, ever the gentleman, even in sub-freezing temperatures.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." You mumble under your breath as you open the door.

Steve smirked, "I caught that." You gave him a sarcastic smile back. He passed you to go dry off, "No hot water, so I dumped my suit in the tub to dry." You said, leaning on the door frame to take in the picture in front of you.

Steve's usually prim and proper appearance was dishevelled, hair run through multiple times. His suit was half-unzipped, toned chest visible under the confines of the tight fabric. A spattering of hair grew on his chest - the result of multiple back-to-back missions. And, of course, being an internationally-wanted fugitive.

He gave you a nod of confirmation, before shutting the door. You turned around to be hit by a wave of warmth. In the time it took you to pull the skin-tight tac suit off your body - which, let's be honest, took quite a while seeing as it was soaked - Steve had managed to get a fire going.

You huddled close to the fire, pulling your legs into your chest and tucking your face into your knees. You stayed there while Steve stirred in the bathroom - the occasional grunt as he bumped into the things making you giggle.

You shuffled closer to the fire, trying to steal every ounce of warmth to warm your frigid body.

"Careful, doll, you might burn yourself." You looked up at him and smiled, reaching for him as he walked towards you. He sat behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You relaxed into his arms. This was nice. You needed to do this more.

He ran his fingers over your ribs, goosebumps following in his path. You winced slightly as he applied pressure. "Not broken." He whispered, hot breath ghosting over your ear. You shivered lightly.

Steve pulled you into a chair, before retrieving the first aid kit. He sat you down, before sinking to his knees in front of you. You clenched your thighs slightly, the action pushing your mind to filth. If Steve noticed, he said nothing. He rolled up your sleeves and your trousers, revealing a plethora of small cuts and bruises that littered your body. Steve made quick work of treating your superficial wounds, smiling sympathetically when you winced at the sting of antiseptic against the cuts.

He snuck a hand under your shirt, locking eyes with you in a silent request for permission. You pulled up your shirt, revealing the large bruise over your ribs. There was a red mark in the centre of the bruise where the pole had hit you. Steve gently wiped it with an alcohol wipe, before applying Arnica cream to the bruise. You watched him tenderly patch you up.

"I'm sorry." His words surprise you.

"What?"

"I should have been there. To protect you."

You scoffed, "In case it slipped your memory, you were preoccupied. It's not your fault."

He nodded silently, rolling your shirt back down. He started to pack up the kit, but you grabbed his arm, dragging him back to sit where you had been sat moments before.

"You're hurt too, Captain," you said, sinking to your knees in front of him in the same way he had. The effect you had on him was far more visible. His face blushed a bright red, and you smiled coyly.

You bandaged up the graze on his leg, hands lingering longer than they needed to. You pushed yourself off the floor and occupied yourself with the knots in his shoulders. The adrenaline made both your bodies tense, but while you had had the time to relax in Steve's arms, he hadn't had that same luxury.

You ran your fingertips over his shoulders, kneading the particularly tight parts. Steve let out a low groan in appreciation, resting his forehead on your stomach. The sound sent electricity through your body, heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

Steve's hands came around to rest on your thighs, pulling you closer into his body like he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment.

You leaned to whisper into his hair, "It's not your fault, Steve." His hold on you only became tighter.

You stood like that for a while, your arms running up and down Steve's back while he convinced himself that you were fine.

He walked out back to grab more firewood, promising he'd be back in a few seconds. You smiled to yourself, fingers ghosting over your lips. The thought of kissing Steve was overwhelming, but you didn't want to push him when you weren't sure of exactly how he felt.

You had a pretty good idea though.

Ever since you had joined the Avengers, you had been close. But with the multiple near-end-of-the-world experiences, it never seemed like the right time to explore those feelings. Steve had always been affectionate, keeping close to you, both in public and private. He had bought you flowers regularly when you lived in New York, always remembered your birthday, protected you when Hydra agents and internet trolls attacked you. In return, you had stood by him in every fight that you could - you always had his back. He could count on that. When the dispute over the Sokovia accords had happened, you agreed with Steve - even if that meant you lost some close friends. In the years that followed, you had fought countless enemies side-by-side. Bucky sometimes joined you, Sam too. But for the most part, you two had become almost intimately acquainted.

You crept towards the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for any long-life food that might have been kept there. You pulled a can out of the cupboard. Baked Beans. You pulled another can out of the cupboard. Baked Beans. And another. And another. And another. All beans.

Buried at the back of the cupboard was a single tin of Chicken Noodle Soup that was so out of date, the mold in it had probably bred a new organism. Baked beans it was then.

You heated the beans up in a pan, placing them over the roaring fire to warm them up. You huddled up to the fire again, chills wracking through your body, keeping the pan over the fire all the while. After a while, with the tomato sauce bubbling slightly, you pulled the pan away from the heat and stood up to serve it into the two cracked bowls that were left in the safe house. Tony had done a good job at emptying the safe houses after the end of the Avengers.

Your hands shook as you evenly distributed the beans. You could hardly bear to be this far away from the fire. You needed more layers, but your coat and your tac suit were soaked through, meaning you had nothing else to wear.

Your hands shook violently again as another shiver ripped through you. You tucked your hands under your armpits and raised your shoulders to cover your ears.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted something fuzzy draped on the edge of the sofa. Steve's jumper. He's been wearing it when he arrived in Austria but claimed that it was far too thick for him - immediately discarding it when you had entered the safe house. You didn't know how it had slipped your mind earlier.

You slipped it on - Steve hadn't lied. It was incredibly thick and cozy. And also quite large, dwarfing your figure, making you feel safe and warmed. You pushed up the sleeves and carried the bowls to the floor in front of the fire.

You noticed an extra pair of Steve's socks tucked into the front of his backpack. You quickly stole them, slipping them onto your feet. You were grateful that Steve was an over-packer.

You crouched back in front of the fire, pulling the jumper over your knees, balancing your bowl on your kneecaps.

You heard Steve before you saw him. He was carrying a pile of firewood in his arms and grumbling about how 'the stupid snow got in his boots and now his socks are wet'. You giggled.

"Glad you find my torment funny, sweets." He said, his eyes still trained on the wood in his eyes, "How would you feel if I got trench foot, and was benched for-" He stopped abruptly.

You looked up at him. His gaze was trained on your body, eyes darkening by the second.

"You shouldn't have done that, sweets."

Your face breaks into uncertainty. Maybe you had completely misread the situation. Maybe Steve only wanted to be friends.

The way he grabbed your face, though, told you differently.

He stooped low to cradle your face in his hands. He placed small kisses all over your face, pecking you like a bird would its food.

"You're mine." He whispered between each one. The declaration made heat pool in your stomach and you couldn't help but laugh. You grabbed his face with your hands, and pressed your lips to his, gently at first. Steve ran his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in.

You moaned as his tongue explored each and every part of your mouth. You could feel him getting harder every second that passed and that only spurred you on.

"Steve," his name fell from your lips like a prayer, "please."

He picked you up and you let out a soft gasp.

"You like that, sweetheart?"

You nodded, words cast from your mind. He chuckled, lust colouring his tone as he shuffled you in his arms.

"Makes me feel safe." You whispered, nestling your head into his shoulder. "Like it when you carry me."

He smiled and laid you on the sofa gently. He pressed deep and sensual kisses on your lips, large and warm hands caressing your body.

You arched your back as he ran a knuckle over your nipple. You were hopelessly horny, begging for friction.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"You. Only you." You whimpered.

"Where do you want me?"

"Everywhere. Please, Steve." You were begging. Steve's eyes lit up.

"Want me to love you, pretty baby?" Steve said, dragging his fingers up your sides.

"Steve, please!" You were close to tears.

He pulled your panties down, fingers slipping in between your wet folds.

"Fuck, darling, you're making a mess." You shuddered, moans spilling out from your lips. He pulls his trousers down, dick curling into his stomach.

"You ready, sweetheart?"

You nodded in response.

"Good." He slid into you gently, your walls stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, head tossed back in pleasure.

He was bigger than you had thought - you grabbed his bicep as he brushed your g-spot.

“S’big Stevie." You whimpered, "M’all full.”

"Yeah baby? You like that?" His hands came to rest on the bulge in your stomach.

The pleasure exploded like a million fireworks in your stomach. He started moving, setting a brutal pace, pushing in and out of you. His cock brushed your g-spot with every thrust, and soon enough you were seeing stars.

"Love it, Stevie! Please don't stop!" He drilled into you, muttering sweet praises.

The coil in your stomach tightened with each thrust. “M’not gonna last.” you whimpered softly.

“S’okay baby." He praised, "Come for me, pretty girl."

You came with a silent cry, shuddering as a wave of arousal washed over you. Steve rode out your orgasm with you, before pulling out. He stood up to head to the bathroom, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the sofa. You sank to your knees in front of him, again, and licked a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

You placed a kiss on the tip of his cock before taking it in your mouth and sucking on it. You wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock and used the other to massage his balls. Steve drew a sharp breath in above you. You wrapped his hand around your hair, giving him permission to fuck your face. He grabbed your hair tightly and fucked up into your face, choking you with the brutal pace that he set.

"Oh, God, I'm gonna cum," Steve said, slightly relaxing his pace as he moved to pull out. You pushed your face further onto his cock.

Ropes of his cum coated the back of your throat as he came with moans of your name. Your eyes welled up as your throat filled with his seed. You swallowed it, much to Steve's surprise. He pulls you into his lap, before carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

You settle on the sofa in his lap, kissing lightly over and over again.

You turn your head to the fire. "Shit."

"What?" Steve looked at you in concern.

"The food. S'gone cold."

He burst into laughter, resting his forehead on your shoulder. He placed a small kiss on your shoulder. You could get used to this.

[fashionsfromhistory]

Side Chair from the Worsham-Rockefeller Dressing Room

1881-1882

George A. Schastey & Co.

In 1881, Arabella Worsham, then-mistress of railroad magnate Collis P. Huntington, hired George A. Schastey & Co. to decorate her townhouse at 4 West Fifty-Fourth Street in New York City. The resulting artistic interiors would have been considered the height of cosmopolitan style in the early 1880s and were emblematic of Worsham’s quest to fashion her identity as a wealthy, prominent woman of taste. When Worsham married Huntington in 1884, she sold the house, fully furnished, to John D. and Laura Spelman Rockefeller, who made few subsequent changes to the decorations. Following Mr. Rockefeller’s death, the house was demolished in 1938, yet some furnishings, large-scale architectural elements, and three interiors were preserved, and the rooms were donated to local museums by John D. Rockefeller Jr.

This side chair of satinwood and purpleheart, one of a pair, is part of the suite (2009.226.1–.4) that furnished Worsham’s elaborately decorated dressing room, one of the preserved interiors now installed in The American Wing (Gallery 742). These objects were part of a decorative program that encompassed every aspect of the room, including the architectural woodwork, lighting, stenciled wall-treatment, painted ceiling and frieze, textiles, and other furnishings. On the chair’s back, the marquetry decoration of grotesque masks and vines echoes the ornamental motifs in the dressing room’s architectural woodwork. The overall form is light and rectilinear. The tapered front legs with cascading bellflowers channel the spirit of English Neoclassical designers such as Robert Adam and George Hepplewhite. It rests on castors, allowing it to be moved easily within the room.

Although few objects can be attributed to George A. Schastey & Co., the high quality of their work – as seen in this fine example – was comparable to other prominent firms of the Gilded Age, including Herter Brothers and Pottier & Stymus. At its peak in the early 1880s, the firm employed at least 125 people in its workshops. Their distinctive designs are steeped in Renaissance sources with flourishes from the Islamic world and the British design reform movement.

The MET (Accession Number: 2009.226.3)

[be-my-ally]

Autumn Leaves Falling Down

(Like Pieces into Place)

I've inserted the sneak peak/1st part from last week into this to make it easier to locate and read, so if the first 1k reads as familiar that's why.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland. There's the Memphian, an attempt at a trip to the morgue, and Elvis in a sweater - oh, and smut.

wc: 7.6k

warnings: 18+, kissing, making out at the cinema, there's an argument with Red that results in a gun being drawn but doesn't go off, mentions of dead bodies, p in v sex. this could probably do with a ton of editing but i am fundamentally lazy.

the memphian scenes are totally inspired by @whositmcwhatsit’s The Gate Girl — I've avoided rereading the past couple of weeks to try and forget it but i’ve read it upwards of 55 times and i think i’ve absorbed it all into my brain as fact - and really, she does it much better than me so everyone (if you haven't) pls go and check it out.

October 19th 1972 Graceland.

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really anticipated having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s pretty sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side for her to see everyone. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cosy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it. Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.

“How’d’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s pretty sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she attempts to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp.

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. Self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!”

So, Laura hurries. She gets ready as quickly as possible; dabbing on a little makeup and brushing her hair. She’s casually dressed when she heads back down towards the back door - jeans and a ribbed rollneck, fully expecting to change again later in the day. She grabs one of Elvis’ coats out of the coat closet on the way, wrapping herself in the thick fabric and liking how it fell past her knees - she’d really not been prepared for this early fall chill, having brought with her light jackets and layers instead of anything with a focus on warmth. Elvis grins over at her, pretending to throw the ball at her when she finally exits the house, and she giggles back at him, standing to the side of their playing space,

“Gimme a E!” She shouts at him, and he roars with laughter, shaking his head as he loudly tells the boys;

“Oh, you’re in for it now! Got my little good luck charm out here, haven’t I? Where’s all your missus’ huh?” Jokingly shoving and jostling as they come in closer. The game continues - seemingly some sort of bastardised version of football wherein it was every man for himself, and Laura contented herself with watching from the sidelines, every now and again giving Elvis an encouraging cheer at what she hoped was a particularly decent run or pass. It was growing a little boring watching by herself and she wondered where all the other wives and girlfriends were, if they’d had other plans or turned down an invitation to watch - or, as she hoped (despite her boredom) if she’d been specially invited out to the boys-only impromptu game. But Elvis looked happy, practically beaming at her every time he ran close by and so she was more than happy to burrow into the lapels and collar of the large overcoat, enveloping herself in his scent while she watched on. It’s only about ten minutes later that he runs past and pauses, hands outstretched,

“Aw, Lor, baby, I’m all chilled to my booones, you gotta warm me up ‘fore I freeze!” He tries to shove his cold hands up her sweater and she shrieks, dashing away from him -

“Oh no you don’t!” He pouts, arms crossed, and she shakes her head, “Not gonna work this time mister, you’ve got icicles for hands, and you can keep them to yourself!” Elvis huff in a faux put upon manner, and calls the boys in;

“C’mon guys, I’m gettin’ bored of kickin’ all your asses… and ‘m hungry - let’s go have somethin’ to eat and warm up a bit.” Laura goes where he nods towards the house, slowing to let him catch up with her and letting him curl his cold hands onto her warm stomach from behind as they walked in together.

Hours later, after the afternoon light had turned to darkness and they’d spent the day fooling around in the house - if she didn’t know better she’d be wondering where all their energy was still coming from - Elvis was again calling for her to get dressed so they could leave for the Memphian.

“Maybe you wanna get changed sweetheart? You know, into, uh, just something, you know, honey, just, just a bit more, uh, flattering…” He’d followed her up the stairs, and she found it hard to be annoyed at his disparaging comment towards her jeans when he’d playfully chased her into the bedroom. Laura shrieked and danced out of his hands, screeching when he got close enough to dig his fingers into the sensitive flesh just above her knee. She careened through the door and they both fell together once he tackled her when she was close enough to the bed.

They ended up rolling around on the bed for a moment, both laughing. She allows him to pepper her face with kisses, rolling on top of him to return the favour. He clings to her, unwilling to let her wiggle off of him even when she tries to lean back fearing she was squishing him. “Elvis, you’ve got to let me get offa you; I bet you can hardly breathe under me!” He rolls his eyes, flexing his forearms as he squeezed her even tighter to him,

“Can’t breathe! I’ll show you can’t breathe.” She can practically feel her ribs cracking and she yelps,

“Elvis!” Elvis laughs, releasing her, making Laura relax on top of him, sinking against his body. She leans back to observe his face, running a gentle hand over his cheek, stroking the side of his intense eyes and trailing it down to trace his plush lips. He playfully nips at her finger, growling and she blushes at how the noise immediately sent her tummy into somersaults. She feels herself tingle at the sensation of his breath on her now damp finger, and her eyes slip closed for a long second. When they reopen he’s staring at her, mouth slightly open, eyes lidded and she no longer cares about being on top of him, his hands sliding down her sides to hold her as she bucks her hips, manoeuvring her to slip her legs on either side of one of his. She grinds down, tangling her fingertips into his sideburns as she captures his mouth again. It’s delicate for one short moment before they both seem to sense an urgency in the situation and she suddenly feels like she’s a willing victim being devoured, his tongue and teeth everywhere all at once. She pulls back to catch her breath, and he chases her lips even then, kissing the side of her mouth until she recaptures his. He ruts up against her once, twice, before stilling and rolling her to the side - Laura lays there panting,

“El, what’s? what’s wrong?” She pauses, she doesn’t want to embarrass him but she can’t help but ask, “Did you - did you, uh, finish?” Elvis smiles a little bashfully, eyes crinkling at the sides as he shakes his head,

“No, no, honey, no just, just gonna save myself - be better later if we just wait; I’ve got plans for you this evening, jus - just lemme hold off for the mo.’” She nods, it makes sense, even if she impatiently wanted him now - and she whispers as much against his jaw.

“Want you all the time, want you in the morning, in the evening in the - god, Elvis, I just - I want to be here all the time, want you right now.” He rolls them so he’s leaning over her, caging her in with his arms and wrapping one of his legs between hers.

“You got me darling, you got me - we just, I want to make it special, tonight - just, just cool it baby yeah? Gotta,” He leans forward into her to kiss her, pressing his mouth hard against hers, tongue licking into her long and slow, before pulling back, breathing heavily again. Elvis reluctantly stood up. “Gotta get ready now. Get ourselves looking uh, presentable.” He cracks his back, stretching his arms and Laura feels abruptly cold at the loss of his warm body heat, panting as her heartbeat slows and the throbbing between her legs cools to a faintly warm glow.

—------------

Laura stares at her hair in the mirror, pinning half of it up, brushing through the rest gently, trying not to lose too much of the volume from the day. Her mousy roots are showing from where she dyes it near-black and she absentmindedly makes a mental note to ask if Elvis knows where she can get some dye, or if there’s time for her to go to the hairdressers. He’d already left for downstairs, having gotten changed unusually faster than she had and left the bedroom long before she was done in the bathroom, telling her,

“Take your time, baby, ain’t going nowhere without you.” She’d blushed at her own reflection at her reaction to his words - it had clearly been a throwaway sentence for him, not something she should take to heart and yet she couldn’t resist it. It was too much, too soon, too close to everything she wanted that she could practically feel it fluttering around her head, feeling herself locking it away tight in her chest. It had been on the edge of every interaction with him the past couple of years, the knowing that she was kept around for a reason, and that she kept coming back for a reason. She’d never been much of a fan of the men in Vegas; they were all too lecherous and desperate – even those that weren’t there to partake in all the sins and pleasures. The few dates she’d been on with guys she’d met while working out there had ended fast, and often slightly uncomfortably. Elvis wasn’t like that though. She’d thought he might be, expected he would be - had rolled her eyes at herself when her stomach flipped at his fingers calling her over. Had lain in bed telling herself it was just her stupid crush from years ago rearing its ugly head, making her see things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t ever even see him again, and don’t be stupid Laura, he probably wasn’t all that nice anyway. Besides, he has a wife and she knew enough not to get involved.

But somehow, her feelings and heart ruled over her sense and before she knew it her life revolved around him in a not unwanted way. She’d not had to worry as much about the men in Vegas then, they could behave how they wished — her dating life that had previously been slim was pared down even more, too anxious that she might be out when Elvis would choose to call and she’d miss him or have to explain where she was. It meant dates were few and far between, but as much as she thought herself a terrible idiot - she couldn’t bear to let anything get far enough that she might have to turn Elvis down.

She shakes her head at the reminiscence, it's been years since that first encounter during one of his early residencies. She’s getting too emotional about it now she’s allowed to be here, tangled in the domesticity of Graceland life, allowed to be photographed, and publicised. She just needs to stay in the moment, worry about how her feelings are getting involved when she gets home - she’s only here for a month, she should just make the most of it. She finishes getting ready quicker with that in mind, rushing through her make-up, a voice in her head telling her not to stupidly waste time. Before long she had her mini dress on and shoes quickly buckled before she headed down the stairs.

Laura had seen photos of Elvis when he was younger, knew that he wasn’t opposed to knits, it just wasn’t something she’d yet had the good fortune of witnessing. But there he was, sat on the couch in the music room, waiting for her and everyone else to be ready. Open V neck knitted sweater with a little collar. She stilled in the hallway, reluctant to break his silence. He’s just sat there with his thighs spread and his legs stretched out, arms across the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and head tipped back. She must make a noise, or something, because he suddenly jolts his head up to look over at her. They make eye-contact and she freezes even more still, trapped in his intense gaze. He looks well, like she wanted to climb into him and never crawl out, cuddly and soft and yet thick and masculine. Laura swallowed, her hands shaking a little, as he pats his thigh. How ridiculous that something as little as that could make someone so nervous - she’s just about to take a step towards him, ready to curl into the plush fuzzy softness of his sweater and tangle her fingers in the similarly plush fuzzy softness of his chest hair when there’s a sudden ruckus from seemingly all sides as all the other men and woman, ready for a night out, suddenly appear. Laura mourns the loss of her cuddle, but Elvis’ hand in hers as he effectively shows her off on their way out makes up for it a little.

The step out into the late evening air was even chillier than the day, Laura shivered in her thin jacket - it was downright unseasonable for Tennessee in October to be this cold and she wishes for the second time that day that she’d thought to bring a heavier coat, but then the heavy thump of Elvis’ arm comes down around her shoulder, enveloping her in him. She finds she doesn’t mind the cold so much then, able to enjoy the scent of the wet, crisp fall air and how it just feels different to the summer within the warmth of his grasp.

They’d filtered into the Memphian and Elvis immediately grasped her wrist, pulling Laura with him. He ignored the hustle of the others to head straight up the stairs to the balcony, she goes where he leads - he’d taken her to the Crosstown the last time she’d been in Memphis, so she didn’t really have much choice; not knowing where he was going beyond the ‘balcony’ sign on the door. The door slams behind her, and she jumps at its loud echo in the empty movie theatre.

“I didn’t wanna ‘embarrass you ‘round the guys, I just, uh, want you all to myself.” He pauses while he shuffles down the aisle, “Figured this way,” He settled himself into a chair one row back, in the very centre, “this way you can - “

Elvis suddenly realises she hasn’t followed him down the aisle and laughs, “C’mon, darling, what’chyu standing out there for?” Laura hurries down to him, and he clasps her hand as she gets herself comfortable in the seat next to his, bringing it to his lips. She blushes at the feeling - it was so startlingly romantic that she can’t think of what to say, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He settles back into his chair, dropping her hand to stretch his arm across the back of her chair. A couple of the others come thundering up the stairs, laughing and joking, but they go silent when coming through the doors, taking seats right along the back wall - Laura’s head turns to see who it was but Elvis’ hand from her chair blocks its path, two fingers pressed against her cheek as he cups her face - keeping her looking directly at him.

“Don’ worry about them - they won’t bother us none.” She nods, unable to stop herself leaning her head further into his hand — he smiles softly - cheeks crinkling into his eyes. His hand falls to stroke at her shoulder,

“There we are. Now, what was I saying?” He pauses, “Oh, yeah, if - this way if y’get scared I can cuddle ya.” He pauses, “You’re alright with a…. uh…. slasher flick aren’t ya?” He prods her far shoulder.

She nodded enthusiastically, although her head was ringing alarm bells - she wasn’t normally a huge fan of any kind of horror. She lived alone - life was scary enough without worrying about x hiding behind her doors at night.

But any reservations Laura had were quickly lost when after the title card came across the screen accompanied by some ominous instrumentals Elvis’ hand came creeping across to her thigh,

“You scared?” She shakes her head.

“Course not.” He nods, although his smirk suggests he’s unconvinced,

“Good, but just so you know - ‘m packing…. I could protect you from anything. ‘Specially a man.” He’s looking at her almost too seriously, and she feels trapped under his intense gaze, all she can do is nod.

“Of course - I know, I know you would.” He stares a second longer, before leaning back into his chair, and he indicates with his head the unoccupied seat next to him.

“Besides, if you’re just scared, I got my big ol’ flashlight with me too.” She nods again, not quite knowing what to say in reply - she can tell he’s waiting for her to speak though so all that spills out of her mouth is,

“That’s-that’s the police one, right?”

“Mmhmm… got it direct offa the sheriff.” She turns to say something else, but the opening scene starts to play and he shushes her, pulling his hand off her thigh, enrapt in the movie.

Clearly, it fails in holding his attention for very long. Mere minutes later he leans over, sighing, not bothering to try and keep quiet. She squeaks in surprise as his hands grip hold of her arms - tugging her, she scrabbles over the arm of the chair to go where he’s pulling her — arranging her to be sat on his lap. She looks around, suddenly coming to the realisation that at some point he must have shooed away everyone else from the balcony. He tuts, a finger going to her mouth in a keep quiet gesture when she opens it to speak, pointing at the screen as if telling her to keep watching. Laura does, but she’s lost track of whatever was going on and can’t find it in herself to care when she feels one of his hands curl around to creep gently up her uncovered thigh, the other gripping tight on her side, just below her breast. He teases her like that for a few minutes, although Laura’s lost all sense of time, too focussed on the tickle of his fingers and breath on her neck. She can’t take it anymore, turning to throw an arm around his neck, shifting on his lap to draw him into a kiss. Elvis pulls her tighter, fingers tensing, and she moans into him.

He tugs Laura’s leg a little, pulling her to be straddling his lap. She’s embarrassed almost, or would be if there were anyone around, to be sat on his knee like this, rocking against him and necking him like a goddamn teenager. She’s not done this since college, and he feels so different. He’s got solid thighs and sure hands, manoeuvring her and masterfully keeping his lips on hers - just the right amount of pressure, of tongue, and nibbling bites.

Elvis’ fingers slide up her skirt, toying with the fabric of her slip while his other comes around to palm at her like a teenager himself, hand roving over her breast. She gasps into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw as she grinds against him. He seems to gain confidence at her reaction, moving to push the wide strap of her dress off her shoulder, tugging it low enough to reach the soft cotton of her bra. His fiddles with her nipples, pinching one just the tiniest bit between his fingers and Laura’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He bumps her panties with the other, but goes no further, moving to grip her back in an attempt to keep her balance on his legs.

She pants, uncaring now if she’s louder than the actors, gasping as he pulls away. She’s never been gladder he’s wearing a v-neck when she rocks against his thigh, leaning forward to suck a bruise against his collarbone. His hips dislodge her accidentally when the pressure gets too much and he bucks up, jerking her away. Laura’s fingers tangle into the fabric on his shoulders, her nails making little divots in the knit; he was going to have to have someone steam this sweater to get it straight again. He’s breathing rapidly against her cheek, hot breath tickling her nose,

“‘s no good baby, I got - I got plans for you tonight.” Laura grinds against him, unabashed at her wanton display.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah baby, wanna,” His thumb rubs a circle on her hip as he slows his own jerking pelvis. “Wanna show you something. Something a lil’ spooky” Laura grins back at him, hand slipping down between them -

“Oh yeah, you got something you want to show me?” She attempts a particularly awful Transylvanian accent, “Something spooky you wanna show me?” She brushes her hand over the not insignificant bulge of his trousers, the outline of his cock clearly displaying he’d forgone underwear. He moans, eyes closing for a moment before he shakes his head, clasping her wrist and tugging her hand away.

“No, no baby, honey, I got, ah, lord, got something serious I wanna show you.” Laura pauses from her playful wriggling, curious.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh Lor, but, uh, let it be a surprise.” He pulls up her strap, patting her shoulder.

“A surprise?” She’s unsure now that he’s not joking about sex.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He’s looking at her so earnestly, lip caught in his teeth that she couldn’t dream of refusing him.

“Of course!” He pushes her off his lap, brushing himself off and straightening her collar when he joins her in standing up,

“Well then darlin’ let’s go.” He holds out a hand and seems to take a mischievous glee in practically running away; leaving the boys downstairs none the wiser to their disappearance. He opens the car door for her with an exaggerated wave and bow before trotting around the front to climb in himself.

They pull up to the nearby funeral home and Elvis starts to climb out of the car but Laura stays frozen where she’s sat, more uncertain than ever. “El I’m not sure about this,” He cuts her off,

“Nah baby, trust…you said you trusted me.” He leans down to peer through the door at her, “Don’t go lying to me now, doll, Cilla liked it - she told me herself it was uh, enlightening!” He’s tripping over his words in his haste to convince her. He’d mentioned his trips to the morgue before - endlessly fascinated with the spiritual and scientific notion of the still bodies. But Laura’s conflicted - she can’t help but feel it’s fundamentally disrespectful to stand there gawking at some poor person’s body but, on the other hand, the reverent way he spoke about the trips and his persistent aura of peace means that she can’t help but feel that it’s ok. As long as she’s with him. She nods, climbing out to follow him. He once again takes her hand, and the unease builds again the closer they get to the door - she was concerned before with the morality of going in there but now it’s her squeamish nature that’s starting to make her tummy hurt.

“C’mon hon, it’ll be good for you.”

“If you say so -“ She mutters back. He raps on the door that was now in front of them. There are no lights on, and she shakes her head,

“Elvis - I don’t think there’s anyone in there, they’re closed.” He tilts his head, frowning, as if confused that a door might remain shut to him before insistently knocking again.

“I got, got special permission, Laura, they - they can’t just lock us out. Hello?” He bangs on the window to the side of the door, he huffs, turning away when there’s a sudden loud crash from inside. Both him and Laura jump at the noise, both whirling back - Elvis jogs down the path, standing back to be able to see all the windows but still no light turns on to indicate anyone inside. He marches back up to the door, raising his arm to pound on it again but Laura catches his forearm, tugging it back to her;

“C’mon El - we’ll come back another night. I’m - I’m scared now, and maybe if they know we’re coming they’ll have the lights on…” He looks down at her, gaze softening at the way she’s quivering a tiny bit - a combination of the anticipatory fear, her jumpiness, and the cold.

“Goddamnit.” He swears, “Well, guess we’ll have to come back another night.” He makes it sound like his idea and accompanies it with a shake of his head. Laura had fully expected him to be more annoyed - and he is, somewhat, ranting the whole way back to Graceland; but thankfully less at the funeral home and his inability to sneak in and more at the movie they’d left. Blaming it for his rash idea to come here with no planning involved.

Most of the cars were already back and parked along the driveway when they got there; either the movie had finished and they’d all left before they started another, or more likely - they’d noticed Elvis’ disappearance and abandoned the movie all together. Red shook his head at Elvis as they walked in,

“Man - don’t you go looking at me like that.” Red baulks at the suggestion,

“I wasn’t Boss, wasn’t looking at you like anything, swear it -” Laura tactfully takes a step back, removing her jacket and taking Elvis’ coat in an attempt to remove herself from the conversation. She goes to the kitchen in the hope of finding someone to hand them off to, before taking a second to collect herself to be, hopefully, a calming influence on the raised voices she could now hear. She slinks back into the hallway,

“I can go where I goddamn like - you sayin’ I can’t protect myself?” Elvis’ waving his pistol in the air like he’s in a western, and Laura bites her lip to stop from giggling. Red’s backtracking now, his hands up as if warding Elvis off,

“Of course, I wasn’t - I wasn’t suggesting that I’m jus’ - just sayin’ you disappeared is all and what with the threats -”

“You hear about anybody threatenin’ me at home?” Elvis roars back, his finger inching ever so slightly to the trigger; Laura panics desperate for them to not get into this now - God forbid there had been a threat made, they’d all be up for hours while they reassessed the security. Red shakes his head,

“Well, no - but people move about, EP, they don’t just stay in one-” Laura takes her chance and steps in, lightly touching Elvis’ arm,

“Baby, I’m tired.” Elvis does a double take at her, completely ignoring Red still talking. “Can we go to bed please?” She blinks owlishly at him to convince him to leave it be, and Elvis seemed to relax, his tense shoulders coming down as he lowers his arm with the gun in hand. There’s a long pause,

“Sure, sure, doll, sure.” He gestures for her to go ahead, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, “Get him the fuck out of my house, I’ll talk to y’all tomorrow.” Elvis ignores Red’s reply, climbing the stairs himself. He shushes Laura when they reach his bedroom, fiddling with the security camera feed until he watches Red leave. He sighs, heavily, and shakes his whole body out, “Awh, baby, I didn’t - didn’t need to get all worked up like that, just - those assholes just don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I can’t be all, all, all cooped up like this all the time.” He whines, gesturing expressively as he talks.

“It’s ok.” She shrugs, running her manicured hands gently up his arm, “They can be pretty overbearing huh?” She presses her chin into the crook of his shoulder as he sighs, kneading his biceps. He sighs back at her,

“I know he’s just doin’ his job, but…” He trails off, taking another deep breath, “Anyway, enough of that now. I want to get back to the night - all m’plans were ruined tonight - you deserve well, you deserve the perfect night.” He turns in her arms, and Laura frowns up at him,

“Why don’t you let me worry about that. I’m fine, I’ve had a great night; such a shame about not being let into the morgue…. How about you let me take care of you?” He shakes his head,

“Naw, naw darlin’ I want to -” He cups her face in his hands, the size of his palms dwarfing her cheeks, “want to show you how much I like having you here.” Elvis tips her head up, bending over a little to reach her lips even as she’s stood on her tiptoes.

She’s enrapt in the moment, not really even conscious of his hands fiddling with her zipper on her back until she suddenly feels his fingertips on her bare skin, chasing the zip all the way down until it's falling off her on its own. His hand comes up to clasp her face to his when she moves as if to pull away, using his free hand to shove her dress to pool at her feet. He pulls back with a tug on her bottom lip, and Laura surges forward to hurriedly tug at his sweater - he takes the hint, pulling it over his head and Laura turns her attention to his trousers. He rushes to unhook her bra, even as he stumbles out of his pants, and it's only a few seconds later before her panties join her dress on the floor.

“C’mon now, honey, s’ok, just - just wanna love on you some,” He pulls on her wrist again, smiling almost shyly down at her naked form. Gently lowering her on top of the covers, he kisses her neck, gentle presses of his lips - every few seconds sucking down with a little more pressure in one spot, before moving to the next. He moves down Laura’s chest, one hand on her waist keeping her still, the other joining his mouth. He kisses across her breasts — capturing her nipple in his mouth, he wets it with his saliva, pulling back to blow his breath across it, Laura’s skin pebbling in response as she quivers. Her hands come up to tangle in his hair, and Elvis stills when she tugs just a little too hard - the sting sparkling down his spine. He pants against her, eyes closed as he rests his head on her chest, trying to regain any semblance of self-control so he could continue, his hands splayed across her stomach. The heat that had been building in Laura’s body all day is back with a vengeance, and already she can feel her heartbeat throbbing between her legs.

He presses little kisses down the soft folds of her stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself up onto his knees. Laura takes a moment to drink in the sight of him - the way his hair is fluffed out from where her hands were just in it, the dark shadow that hints at stubble around his chin catching her attention, and below that a flush that matches hers colours his chest. She’s almost embarrassed at the little moan that slips out of her mouth as she follows, with her eyes, the thick patch of chest hair past his necklaces, and down, down his soft tummy before she rests them onto Little Elvis. Who’s already popped up to say hello, rosy and chubby. He takes her moment of stillness as his cue to go on and shifts one hand to tweak her nipple, the other going down to gently trail across her thigh. Laura gasps, urging him on. He dances his fingers across, hovering them over her until she’s about to beg. The moment his rough fingertip finally touches her she jolts, legs falling open even as her thighs clench.

“Oh Lord, you’re, you’re, Christ Lor, you’re ready for me already.” He strokes his finger up her wetness, adding a second to the mix to expertly spread her sticky folds. Laura tries to respond but all she can manage is a frantic nod as she struggles to find her words while Elvis busies himself with teasing her in little circles, dipping his finger in just the teeniest bit to gather more wetness and bring it back to circle almost directly on her clit. He’s got the same burning focus he does on stage, eyes blazing and his mouth open a little in concentration, pouty lips looking even more appealing in their bitten state. Laura’s eyes fall closed and she feels Elvis’ hand come back to her stomach, pinning her in place while his other plays with her, stilling her jerking hips a little. Laura doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but the problem quickly resolves itself when Elvis leans back to rub his wet hand over himself, before lining himself up and sinking into her hot, soaking, heat. Laura’s hands fall to grip at his shoulders, uncaring of her nails sinking into his delicate flesh.

“El-Oh, god, bit, bit of warning - next time, would be, ah, would be ni-ice.” She was ready but it didn’t stop her from feeling the stretch of him pushing into her. He pauses,

“You want, you want me to, fuck, come out?” He looks pained as he says it, and Laura grins,

“Christ no! Just, give me a-,” She wiggles a little, “No, no. It’s fine.”

“Yeah? You sure, honey? I don’t wanna - meant to be about you baby,” He says this, even as he can’t help but nudge further into her, his eyes begging her to say he can stay.

“Elvis. God, you can move.” He’s slow at first, barely rocking his famous hips, eyebrow quirking as he teases her.

“Yeah, baby? That - that what you wanted?” She groans, red-faced and sweaty,

“Elvis. Please.” It’s the magic word for a reason and he smiles before he concentrates again, his own eyes rolling back a little at the pleasure of it all as he builds up speed, rapidly fucking into her.

Laura rocks her hips into the air, legs shaking as Elvis brings his thumb down to rub directly over her clit, and their tight connection keeps her in precisely the right position even as her legs seem to flail. Her orgasm hits suddenly, and she falls off the precipice with a yell, mouth open and eyes wide as she catches sight of them both in the mirror, Elvis’ sweaty self-satisfied grin as he slows his fingers.

She shivers with the aftershocks, suddenly realising there were tears streaming down her face.

“Oh - Lord, what’s, ugh, what’s wrong baby, am I - am I hurting you?” He slows himself until he’s almost completely still, although, not totally. His voice strains with the effort of not moving, high-pitched, and Laura just shakes her head, “No - honey, I gotta know, you want me, you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” Laura sniffles, “‘s just, just a bit much - please Elvis, I want more.”

“Bit much?” Elvis takes her at her word and thrusts into her again,

“Just can’t get over you wanting me - ‘s just,” she moans, “just over, oh, overwhelming.”

“Baby, you feel what you do to me? What you done to me all day?” He pushes the hair from her face, staring down at her. She gazes back at him, glossy-eyed. “Awh, now baby, don’t look like that - you’re so pretty - Jesus, Lord, even,” He thrusts again, starting to fuck into her at a solid pace, “Even, fuck, even crying baby - makes your eyes all big, and your cheeks all rosy … god you look so fucking pretty.” He drags her even closer to him, his hands tight on her hips and waist, finger bruises being left - she babbles at him that he looks good too, pretty, and handsome and sexy. He doesn’t last much longer, maybe another thirty seconds before he’s shouting,

“Oh fuck, baby,” and his hips still, mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back as he groans. He collapses half on her, half on the bed and despite the almost overwhelming heat of him Laura welcomes the sensation of his heavy presence over her and the way he rubs his face on her shoulder. It should disgust her, the fact that he’s essentially covering her in his musk and sweat, but instead she finds it endearing, her pulse jumping in reaction to it. She kisses the top of his head and he responds by gently pulling out of her, rolling to one side. She tries to find it in herself to be brave, the afterglow making her bolder than she would normally be, but still not quite enough on her own.

“Can feel them cogs whirrin’ from here - did I not give you ‘nough attention?” He rolls over to face her. Laura shakes her head, taking a deep breath - it’s hard to have this conversation when she can literally feel his cum still sliding out of her, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he refuses.

“Elvis, can I - I want to stay here. Can I stay?” He pauses,

“For Christmas?” Laura frowns, starting to shiver at the cooling sweat and her stress at the discussion. Elvis tuts, rubbing her arm,

“Well, maybe? I mean I’d love to - if you’ll have me. But I mean, maybe that could - I’d really like to stay with you.” He hums, as if finally understanding what she’s getting at, there’s a long enough pause that Laura opens her mouth to say she didn’t mean it, explain that she was caught up in the emotions of the evening and she didn’t want to - honest, but Elvis beats her to it.

“Well, hon-ey,” He’s talking slower than normal, his southern drawl even more pronounced, “I don’t, I don’t see why not - I sure like having you around.” Laura turns to face him, finally,

“You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say if I didn’t.” He says it sarcastically but he’s smiling softly at her and Laura grins,

“Oh! Thank you,” He strokes a circle against her arm, and she continues the only thing she can think in her mind that’s not just Elvis Presley agreed I could live with him is the next thing that comes falling out of her mouth, “I’m gonna need a thicker coat.” Elvis laughs,

“Baby, you wait ‘til Christmas - I’ll get you the warmest coat you’ve ever seen.” She smiles back laughing a little with relief, “Now, let’s get you warmed up again.” He rolls himself back over her and she giggles as he digs his fingers into her sides and his lips find hers once again.

—————

taglist!

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @lookingforrainbows @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll  @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @18lkpeters @lettersfromvenus

[saltyloafy]

the "came back wrong" idea but its how kazuma thinks of himself after he gets his memory back post dgs2-4.

even with his memories back, he can't wash away the dirt and the callouses on his hands from 9 months working at sea as a manual laborer, an experience he never would have lived had he never gone through the tragedy on the ss burya

he can't get the look in ryunosuke and judicial assistant mikotoba's eyes when they first learned of the assassination contract that he willingly participated in out of his head, the look that said that maybe the kazuma they knew, the kazuma they LOVED, did in fact die and stay dead on that boat

kazuma was never truly carefree even as a boy with the shadow of his supposedly serial-murderer father over him but now that the sheet is fully off of the gruesome scene, can he really ever go back to who he was before? will the guilt of the deaths he couldn't stop just move into the hole left in his heart left by the resolution of his life's ambition?

or how about how kazuma wanted to be the one to show ryunosuke the ropes of being a defense lawyer, but by the time he found him again, he had already grown into everything that he hoped that he could be (just without him). now that he was on the side of the prosecution, kazuma could never stand by his side in that way ever again, yet another thing that changed over that year that he was 'dead'. ryunosuke took his perception of kazuma's dream and flew to greater heights than kazuma ever could have(this is kazuma's thoughts talking), all the while while with kazuma's defense band around his arm and karuma at his hip. 'kazuma asogi' was already living on through ryunosuke, so why did kazuma still need to be here? he could no longer do what he had come to England to do, because someone else had already taken up that niche perfectly

if kazuma wasn't the son of a mass-murderer, the defense attorney who changes the judiciary, or ryunosuke's partner, than who was he?

I think kazuma deserves to be a little fucked up by the shit he was forced to go through as a result of the professor case being dragged out into the open and also his amnesia / hong kong adventure. kazuma already has his new goal in life figured out by the end of the resolve of ryunosuke naruhodo?? I disagree. I don't think kazuma would fit as perfectly into the role of a prosecutor as quickly as he did. I don't doubt he would be a very good prosecutor but after the adrenaline of the professor case fades away, there has got to be some growing pains,,, and seeing ryunosuke having adjusted so well to his absence (221B fam :) ) could not have felt great, even if he would've been accepted into that family in milliseconds if iris got a peak at that tortured face but that's besides the point here

the way that kazuma acted all cold to ryunosuke and susato during the van zieks trial, I can't help but think that he tried to distance himself out of fear that they'd see he had changed and not want to be around him anymore. that because he wasn't the same kazuma that had left japan's shores aboard the ss burya that he wasn't worth being a part of their family anymore. obviously he couldn't be more wrong. but let the samurai boy have a bit a brooding time, he deserves it