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fawnilu · 9 months
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:)
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tearsofastraeax · 4 months
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simon is the type of guy to come up behind you while you're standing in the kitchen, his hands traveling over your hips right to your ass, his hands grabbing your cheeks and giving them a squeeze
"hmmmm, that ass," he sighs into your neck.
"simon....", you chastise him, clearly busy, your hands full, the water nearly overcooking, and the heat from the stove making you sweat.
you notice him step away a bit, but his hands don't leave your ass, giving it a little jiggle instead.
you hear his breathy laugh behind you, "sorry, babe, but these cheeks were calling to me, they miss me"
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joontroverted · 2 months
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of course other women want your boyfriend
pairing: nanami kento x reader
tags: nanami is 34. is that a warning? lol.
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"your dad's kinda hot."
the bar isn't too full, just the regular crowd, and then some. of course there were other college kids, none that you knew. well, except this one.
you've seen aiko around, always at the back of the class. not that that's worth shaming, you ended up back there too often due to sleepy mornings to be looking down on her.
no, it's the constant bitching and laughing during class that pissed you the fuck off. not an ounce of respect or decorum for the rest of you depressed losers just trying to make it out of class with notes that made sense, or the poor professor, who has long since given up on admonishing her. so maybe you did once tell her off in the middle of class a week before finals. just once. or twice.
and here she is, having tapped on your shoulder as you were sipping your drink, bitching and laughing with her friends hanging behind her, snickering along.
"that's not my dad," you reply, ticked off.
her eyes widen in faux shock. "even better then! I didn't wanna make it too messy for you. what's his instagram?"
you laugh, bunching up your shoulders, finally putting down your drink and getting up. you're usually not the jealous type, and you're not even feeling jealous right now, more like a bubbling irritation.
"he doesn't have an Instagram. he's thirty four, what instagram do you think you're gonna be hitting him up on, huh?"
"thirty four? he looks forty plus at least! I didn't know being with a stuck up bitch like you would age a man like that, but makes sense!" she scoffs, looking you up and down.
"so you can pick up on social cues! I was wondering how you couldn't figure out that he's my boyfriend from the kiss he gave me or, perhaps from the way he was holding me, but turns out you're just a rude bitch who wants to slather her fingers all over my boyfriend!" you snap at her.
that makes a few people around you look over, and as much as you wanted to smack her across her face, you needed to maintain your standards.
"then where is he now? where's your boyfriend? and which forty year old brings his little girlfriend on a night out to a bar like-"
"there you are, sweetheart."
kento slides his arm around your waist, slipping into the seat next to yours.
nanami kento. thirty four. food critic! 6' 1", honey blonde hair slicked back, but a few pieces spill out on to his face, deep brown eyes that are both soft and sharp. his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing his thick forearms, veiny with light, golden hair. the bar and the girl in front of you almost fade to the back of your mind when his cologne hits your nose, sending you into a daze.
almost.
"ken!" you breathe.
"did i keep you too long? you know satoru, refusing to get to the point," he frowns, dropping a kiss on your forehead. "what's got you all worked up?"
"hey!"
his eyes leave yours to look at aiko. "yes?"
"how come she doesn't bring you around more often? she's always all by herself, in her own little world! so shy, really! i'm aiko, we go to class together!" she smiles at him, all cute and bubbly like.
"what are you trying to do?" you ask, shouldering youself between kento and her. "you trying to swoop in and show him a better life or something? do you need attention that bad?"
"oh my god, you guys, look she's getting all bothered!" she gasps to her friends around her. "no babe i didn't mean it like that, i just meant it like i am personally, SO happy that someone like you's found love, you know? even if it's with someone who is SO different from you, you're finally out of your shell, and clearly, there is someone for everyone!" she gushes, and then looks over your shoulder at kento.
"why are you looking at him, look at me," you interject, something finally snapping in you. kento can sense the change in you, and places his hands on your waist.
"sweetheart, i think- "
you appreciate it, but you can handle this, you're FINE.
"no no," you repeat, "look at me! because do you think he's gonna treat you the way he treats me? do you think he's gonna keep up with your bullshit, and your little friend group and not see you for the pathetic attention seeking loser you are? you think he's gonna buy you the stuff you want and take you to all your raves and whatnot? this man goes to sleep every night by eleven thirty! you don't see him at parties because he's thirty four fucking years old, and his definition of a night out is wine and fine dining, with ME! he treats me like this, and buys me whatever the fuck i want, because i'm me, he's not gonna treat you like that babe!"
"don't get all worked up!" aiko spits "we can just be friends, you know!" she twirls her hair, her eyes still on kento.
"what are you twirling your hair for? he's not even looking at you, the only thing that that's gonna do is make you even balder. spending all your time trying to poach another bitch's man the whole time your bald spot's been making direct eye contact with me."
she gasps, and deep down you know you would never say that to a girl unless she absolutely deserved it, and aiko has been begging for it.
kento squeezes your waist, standing up, towering over you from behind.
"baby, she said she just wanted to be friends, didn't she?" he asks. "why don't you give her my instagram?"
aiko chuckles, seeming to have recovered. she pushes her phone into his hands, instagram open, and he hands it over to you diligently.
you scoff and type in his username, pressing the follow button and shoving it back to her.
"now that that's done," sighs kento, holding you. "it's getting a little hot in here, isn't it honey? let's get this scarf off of you."
his hands unfasten the scarf that you had tied around your neck, that you're sure aiko just attributed to poor fashion sense. despite the previous chaos, your eyes follow his thick fingers as the open the knot, and unloop the scarf from around your neck, causing the scarf to slip out and leave you neck bare in the deep v neck top you had put on this morning.
deep red and purple bruises litter your neck, all the way down to your breasts, disappearing off behind the lace borders of the neck of your top.
kento stares at you, smug and unclouded desire clear on his face. he slides his hands up and holds the sides of your neck firmly, squeezing slightly. he pulls you closer and your lips meet in a deep kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your cheek. the kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away and leans back in to place on more kiss on your wet, parted lips, taking you by surprise.
"that's perfect," he thumbs on one of the hickies, eyes never leaving you. "my perfect girl."
warmth floods up your chest and face. a smile can't help but spread across your face as you lean into him.
"let's go, love. dinner, wine and that eleven thirty nap time awaits us," he chuckles, taking your hand, gathering your bag and turning away to leave, not a single glance given to aiko.
aiko!
you turn to her, a lazy, easy grin on your face, glancing to her phone open with kento's instagram, and then back up at her. "happy stalking!"
aiko and her friends are sure to spend the night pouring over kento's instagram, which is filled to the brim with pictures of you, you and him, food, you, travel and his girlfriend, you.
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DO NOT REPOST
yay first fic!!!
likes, reblogs, comments HIGHLY appreciated 🩷
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vodenanimfa · 10 months
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God Is a drunk man with a gun and I'm a soda can in his backyard
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savage-flirtation · 6 months
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I need one of these!!! 😍😍😍
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owlbearwildshape · 3 months
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Half-Ilithid Durge attempts to break up with Astarion for his own good
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neteyamsilly · 1 year
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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2
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summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory. PART 1 | PART 3 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!
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The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath. 
The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line. 
You weren’t exactly happy about this.  
The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach. 
Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you. 
Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —
the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that. 
If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily. 
Maybe. 
Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared. 
But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee. 
Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one. 
She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger. 
You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never. 
You weren’t a child.
Just wanted to be one, sometimes.
Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed. 
Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See. 
He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time. 
Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did. 
Win some, lose some, I guess.
Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five. 
Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention. 
You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.
You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?   
Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you. 
That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.
The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways. 
A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong. 
The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat. 
At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall. 
Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention — 
and you slipped. 
The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge. 
The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height. 
You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally. 
Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle. 
You’d made it?  
No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening! 
Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd. 
But. 
One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.
You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.
You were chosen. 
It wanted you as its rider. 
If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.  
The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly. 
You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw. 
Firstborn daughter excellence. 
Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong. 
Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling. 
“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”
The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you. 
You were all alone. 
The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement. 
Right. 
You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life. 
Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.
Flying! He wanted to fly! 
The first flight sealed the bond, after all. 
You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step. 
The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night. 
The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine. 
You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you. 
And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos. 
No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun. 
Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.
When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory? 
Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.    
Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.
And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. . 
 Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up. 
Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this. 
But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!
“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”
Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick. 
Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”
“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”
The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.” 
“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”
“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”
“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”
You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core. 
“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.” 
All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’
You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.
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One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood. 
An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.
“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”
Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”
“How much longer?”
“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”
What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”
This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in. 
His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation. 
He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child. 
It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first. 
Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.
Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.   
His teenage daughter. Scared him. 
Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place. 
The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore. 
He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely. 
And then he didn’t. 
“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”
Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”
“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”
Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut. 
His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”
“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”
Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”
This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before. 
Here we go again, Jake thought.
“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”
“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”
He grimaced. “I have to—”
“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”
“They trust me plenty.”
“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”
“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”
“They won’t if you never tell them.”
“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”
“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.” 
“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”
“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”
Because he had gone too far already with the older three. 
Trial and error. 
He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step. 
A father protects his children, that’s what gives him meaning. 
Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.  
He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.” 
Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.  
“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”
“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”
“Dad—”
Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”
Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”
He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”
“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”
Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.  
Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”
“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.
“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?” 
Silence.
The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—” 
Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”
“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”
He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”
His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.  
Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.
You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.
A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face. 
When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble. 
“Neytiri?” 
She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear. 
“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”
And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.
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taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily
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poorly-drawn-monhun · 3 months
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officer!els<3
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author's note - meow i love this woman.
content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!
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- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)
- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.
- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)
- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...
- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...
- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.
- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!
- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."
- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.
- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES😧.
- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.
- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:
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suggestive/NSFW!
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- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.
- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)
- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.
- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.
- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-
- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.
bonus round - police!els edit<3 :
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sysboxes · 4 months
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[Text: This system has insys romantic relationships.]
Like/Reblog if you save or use!
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miharuhebinata · 10 months
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it genuinely pisses me off the way some people STILL think of peeta as just some dumbass bootlicking white liberal for calling for a ceasefire in mj, as if katniss doesn't literally spell it out for both coin & the reader that he is clearly being tortured & used as a mouthpiece for capitol propaganda???,,???????
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everlastlady · 1 year
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Striker X Short Reader
┆ Author's Note: Hello! Welcome back my little imps, demonic sinners, and powerful overlords. Welcome to Striker X Short Reader. I thought this would be nice since I'm a short person, I'm like 5'2 in real life and always get mistaken for a kid and just the look on people's face when I tell them how old I am, is absolutely hilarious, but I hope all my shorties enjoy this story.
┆ Story Contains: Smut
┆ Fandom: Helluva Boss
┆ Word Count: 823
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Striker is used to meeting people who are short and he especially enjoys teasing them a bit. But he just loved teasing you, calling things like, “ Short thing, “ Little demon, or “ Small creature “ You didn’t mind Striker’s teasing but sometimes it could be annoying. When he tools things from you, he would hold them up high and laugh when you would try to jump up and try to grab them. He would give it back and tussle your hair. “ I’m sorry pumpkin, you are so small and cute. “ He said while chuckling.
He would grab things off high places if he saw you struggling. Striker knows you love to do things for yourself but that could often lead you to hurting yourself. So if Striker saw you reaching for something. He would give you a hand either grabbing it with his hand or tail. Sometimes he would lift you so that you could grab. He did this because he didn’t want to see you hurt yourself like last time. You had fallen off the counter trying to grab a box of cereal and fell and ended up breaking your arm.
Striker is careful when you two wrestle each other and play fight. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He usually uses his tail to throw you on the couch or bed. He doesn’t put too much of his weight on you when he sits on you. But for some reason, you don’t take it easy on Striker so he calls you a little gremlin or puppy when you bite him. Striker would just chuckle but for a short person, you pack a punch and that’s what Striker likes about you, you may be short but you are ready to fight and not give up.
He thinks you look adorable when wearing his clothes, especially his hat. “ Hey look I’m Striker, howdy howdy. “ You would say as Striker would roll his eyes and take by his hat. “ Ha ha, very funny darlin’ “ But he did have a few pictures of you wearing his clothes because he found it cute. The only thing Striker had wore that belonged to you was your necklace, calls it his good luck pendant.
When he brings you to the saloon he is very protective of you because a lot of assassins, hitmen, criminals, and scum asses drink there. So he will keep his tail around your waist if he sees someone flirting with you or coming up to you both. He knows you can handle yourself, he just doesn’t want you getting roughed up just in case there is a fight.
When you guys sleep together you are usually spooning with you being the little spoon but if you beg Striker enough, he is willing to be the little spoon. But sometimes you sleep on top of Striker which is nice because he’ll rub circles on your back. In the morning is nice because he’ll pick you up off him and set you aside then tickle you awake, has he gotten punched once? Yeah, he has but he has learned how to dodge.
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When you, guys are having passionate smoking sex, Striker has you on top of him. Ride a cowboy save a horse! Striker loves hearing your gasps and moans when he places his hands on your hips. Oh, how you tremble on top of your cowboy. You love hearing his huffs and growls
But when Striker is on top of you, he’ll cage you with his body while he pounds into you. Your little whines make him smirk when he drags his tongue across your neck and marks up your neck, collarbone, and chest. When you cry out his name it only makes him pound deeper into you. Seeing your eyes roll back brings him joy as he whispers how good you are being. “ Oh, darlin’, you are being so good, let me hear you say my name again, come scream how much you love. Let me hear it ~ “
Will he tie you up while you ride him? Yeah, He’ll place your hands behind your back and bound your wrist together and let you ride him while he holds you. He thinks it's adorable watching you squirm, whine, and beg him to let you cum. If he’s feeling kinky enough maybe he’ll choke you but you both have a safe word. Because if there is one thing Striker doesn’t want to hurt you too bad or make you uncomfortable.
This cowboy knows about aftercare so he’ll praise you on how good you were and then wash you up. He’ll give you sweet kisses and let you know how much you mean to him. He’ll help you put on your pajamas, then make you a nice meal and get you something to drink. If you fall asleep, he will hold you close and rub your back. “ I love you, darlin’ “ He’ll say then fall asleep holding you close.
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tearsofastraeax · 4 months
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thinking about simon growing out his beard. you want to love it but you just can't because every time you kiss him his scruff scratches your skin. 'stay away from me, you're too fucking scratchy!' you exclaim as you try to run from him. 
but simon has other plans for you, he stalks behind you, slower than you, knowing he'll eventually catch up to you. a predator stalking his prey. 
and he does, one moment you slam the bedroom door behind you, trying to think where to escape next, and the next he grips you by the waist, throwing you on the bed. you squeal in response, giggling under your breath. but all the fight ebbs out of you when you catch a glimpse of simon. he looks like he's about to eat you whole. 
he prances toward you, slowly crawling over the mattress toward you, grabbing your legs roughly and shoving them apart to make space for his large frame. he doesn't say a word as he strips you of your clothes. the only thing he lets slip is the way his breathing grows more and more labored, the way his eyes roam over you with a mischievous glint in them. 
he starts his torture on your right ankle, pressing sweet and gentle kisses on it, before he drags his face across your skin, the stubble irritating you and making you squirm, trying to get out of his hold on you. you scream, but laughter breaks through as you look down at him. 
'simon, please, you're torturing me', you press out, barely able to contain yourself as he continues to pepper your leg with kisses and gentle strokes of his stubble over your sensitive skin. your exclamation prompts a smirk to spread over his lips. what an evil man. 
he continues his torture, till he reaches your inner thighs and your squeals turn to soft little moans. at the sound of them, he gets motivated. so, simon licks and kisses and drags his goddamn beard over your sensitive skin, till he reaches your throbbing clit. making you scream and moan and curse him to the gods. 
when you cum on his tongue, whimpering his name, only then does he stop the mind-shattering torture. you barely have a chance to look down at him, resting between your legs, looking like he just worshipped you, with a satisfied little smile on his face. your skin looks red and puffy, sensitive from the torment you had to endure. 
'not gonna tell me to stay away from you again, are you?!' he exclaims, pressing sweet and gentle kisses to your abused skin. you can barely hum in agreement, too spent from the sinful pleasure. 
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joontroverted · 1 month
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best friend gojo who's here to help you with your pms!
pairing : gojo satoru x reader
word count : 2.2k
tags : reader has pms, groping, titty sucking, grinding, clit rubbing, gojo is heavily implied to be the bisexual loser who gets no bitches that he is, nanami mention (who do you think I am after all), a lot of back and forth between him and reader. if not smutty, ik you will find this funny 😁
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obviously gojo satoru is more of an active person, he'd rather be outside than inside, but he'd lock himself in jail if that meant he could spend some time with you. that's why he's here, bursting in arms filled with sweet treats. you groan, sitting up, making grabby hands for the gummy bears and he snickers, squeezing your cheek.
"you're not funny, satoru," you mutter, adjusting yourself in bed again.
"but I do get it! once a month, you and I become extremely similar, united by a hunger for sweets!" he laughs, tossing another sweet in the air and catching it with his mouth.
"how the fuck hasn't shoko beat some sense into you to speak to women with more respect," you say, smacking him over the head with a pillow.
the time passes, too slowly for your liking. satoru, to his credit keeps himself busy, chattering on about something or the other. you're busy twisting around in bed for a better position to provide yourself some relief from the random cramps, and satoru cannot help it.
he cannot help himself from staring at you.
all this while, he had been yammering on about anything he could think of, trying to distract himself from you. but here you are, refusing to settle down in one place.
he didn't really know all of the biology of the entire cycle, but he knew enough to figure out that periods come a month away from the last. and if he didn't figure out himself, your bitching was enough for him to know that the time was here.
he had burst into your apartment all cheery to give you some good vibes (and give himself some good vibes), and had walked right into your room to see you looking drained and angry. like he could focus on that when you were just sitting there, looking delicious. 
sure, you look good all the time. of course you dress up when you go clubbing, curves all fitted in a snug dress, hair and face done to the t. but now… god. the heat had made you forgo the usual hoodie or baggy shirt you'd pull on and you had instead worn an old tank top with a pair of booty shorts which you had announced you only put on because you heard him come in.
like damn who asked you to do that, but whatever makes you comfortable.
but.
your tits. your tits. your tits. your tits had swollen up, as they do every period, and they were trapped and straining against the tank top you had thrown on, which was obviously not built for the extra curve of them. and your nipples, fuck. they poked through the material, hard, prominent and enticing.
he sneaks another peak at them, and his eyes nearly fall out of his fucking head when he saw that in all the time he was lost in his thoughts, mindlessly blabbering, you're grabbing them.
round, juicy tits were in your hands, and you are squeezing them periodically, with your eyes closed, breathing slowly. he watches the cleavage peeking out of your neckline, the bulge of your boobs bouncing up and down as and when you squeezed them, and the little sighs that you keep giving. he gulps.
before he knows it, more like a horny panic response, he reaches forward and jabs your thigh. 
“ow, what the fuck?” 
your eyes fly open and you stare at satoru, who himself has no clue what the fuck just happened. and your hands. your hands are still grabbing your fucking tits.
“you weren't listening to my story,” he manages, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.
you look like you could slap him. he would accept that. he wishes he could slap himself. 
“the fucking story about how you charmed your way to the front of the line at the coffee shop (not starbucks, fuck starbucks) once again? that fucking story?”
he just has to soldier through this. “yeah, that story! it's impressive to make your way past the old coffee addicted coots before their 9 to 5. if you want to massage your tits that bad do it on your own time!”
oh no. now he's said it. he’s brought attention to the the melons- elephant in the room.
“you are so useless,” you hiss. “you useless, useless man.” you are rising onto your knees and making your way closer to him. 
his eyes widen as he leans back. he chuckles nervously. “hey, i'm not entirely useless. i mean, i can take away your period, but just for -”
your hand shoots out and grabs his face. “if you pull that pathetic playboy shit on me right now i'm gonna slap you so hard you'll see stars,” you whisper.
satoru doesn't dare breathe, the space between you two is so small, lips almost touching, your breasts heaving. 
“how big?”
“wh- what?” he stutters. 
men and women and almost everyone who has laid eyes on him have tried to smooth talk him, and here he is, stuttering for you. 
“how big are they?”
oh! your tits! your fucking tits!
“big. bigger. bigger than usual. beautiful.” he muddles.
you huff, and seem to relax a bit. “good,” you say, pulling back a little. “now use them.”
with that, you turn away and plop down right in front of him, ass pushed against his crotch, and he can just hope that you don’t feel how hard he is right now. 
“what,” he says again, stupidly. yes, he always dreamed of this day. no, he didn't know what the fuck was going on.
“your hands satoru. use your hands! you keep comparing hand sizes with me, so use your big fucking hands to massage me!”
his hands. his stupid hands. okay.
“jeez just say that, you tease. and here i thought that i could feel up a girl after so long,” he jokes, the only way he knows how to get out of this situation, his face still hot. he grabs your shoulders and squeezes haphazardly, “juicy tits are rare to come by, after all i can only jump nanami so many times before he -” 
you grab his hands from your shoulders and pull them from the back around your body to your tits and squeeze. 
“oh,” you moan. “oh god, that's good.”
you're too deep in the sauce to notice that satoru's brain's been fried. his fingers just follow your directions, fingertips digging into the plush flesh, while you moan away. you tip your head back, eyes closed. he stares at you, the relief you’re in and how you're openly just using him for your own gain so unabashedly. your head hits his shoulder, causing your eyes to open slightly, making direct eye contact with him. that snaps him out of the daze that he's in.
“yeah?’ he mutters, his voice low, “you like that?”
“uh huh,” you nod, eyes not leaving his.
“all right cutie,” he chuckles, “i'll give you what you want.”
he finally goes with the flow and starts massaging. his big hands circle around each breast, gathering them entirely, and squeezing. his thumbs grind down on the neglected sides of your tits in circles, pulling out an unexpected moan from you.
“oh, that was good!”
“yeah? tell me more,” he says, steadily pushing them in and out.
“they were just- just so sore, toru. and yesterday i was out the entire day, and you know i had to wear a bra because i can't just not wear a bra! so they were so so restricted and tied up! so obviously i don't wear a bra when i'm at home -”
he knows. he's seen. 
“- but i don't know, the soreness just somehow feels different and worse now? because they so heavy and swollen, and they're hanging down, nothing to hold ‘em up!”
“aww, poor baby. why didn't you tell me earlier, huh?” he asks, working his way around your breasts.
“i don't know… my head's been so fuzzy, and my cramps are pretty bad too.”
“well that's okay cutie. i'll be there from now on, yeah?” he whispers into your ear. even beyond his own horniness, he really does want to help you. he didn't know he too could benefit from this though.
“yeah… thank - oh!” you shriek.
“what?”
“my nipples, oh, they're just too sore, toru! you need to be gentle!” you huff.
“‘m sorry baby, i'll be more careful, kay?” he mutters, looking down at your hard nipples, poking through the strained material of your tank top. since today has been full of miracles for him, he decides to push his luck. “can i… can i see ‘em?”
see them? you had definitely been lost in the bliss of the situation to see the realness of it. to see that the line between friendship and the light flirting that had been going on between you and satoru off late had been getting blurrier by the moment. you are too horny and in need of pain (and horny) relief to be thinking clearly. 
“nothing has to change, kay?’’ whispers satoru into your ear. “it's just you and me… and your tits between us, obviously” he giggles, nipping your ear a bit.
you look at him. things would change, you decide, looking at the slightly dizzy look he has, his eyes lidded, lip between his teeth. he's easier to read than he thinks he is. knowingly, you nod.
“atta girl,” he whispers, positively buzzing with excitement. he pushes himself off from behind you, instead laying you down on the pillow he was leaning on and coming to the front. “atta fucking girl.”
he slides down your body, tossing away the blanket that was loosely thrown over your legs, showing your thighs and your shorts hiked up enough for them to just look like underwear. he wants to settle his face onto them so badly, but that's a task for another day. for now, he looks up. 
you're looking down at him, your usually pissy face wide eyed, waiting for him to make his next move. he can't help but smirk at how cute you look, especially considering how much you gag or at least pretend to gag whenever he flirts with you. 
“i'm gonna lift this up, okay?” he tells you, holding the hem of your tank top.
you nod.
he pulls the hem up, up and over your tits, exposing them. the air hits your nipples, causing them to pebble even more. 
“fuck,” he whispers, his eyes wide and unblinking. “fuck baby, they're beautiful.”
“they're all swollen and… stuff,” you mutter, not knowing what to say.
he reaches forward and grabs the two mounds, one in each hand. 
“hi!” he says to the one in his right hand, jiggling it, “hi!” he says, now to the left one, jiggling that one too.
“satoru, you're such a dor- oh!”
he's opened his mouth and latched onto your right nipple, his wet, warm mouth, enveloping the smaller, tender bud. years of sucking on lollipops, and other things, makes him really, really good at this. eyes closed, he sucks and sucks, tongue circling the nipple and lapping it up. the pointy, sensitive bud is soothed by his constant suckling, causing you to moan out loud. that finally gets him to open his eyes and gaze back at you, pausing his administration. 
“i'm such a dork, huh?”
“shut up, god!”
“no god, just satoru gojo,” he says smarmily, nuzzling into your other boob, his hair tickling your neck, and under your chin.
you smack his head and he snickers. he goes back to suckling on your tits, plump lips leaving a trail of shiny gloss on your tits as he kisses them away. his hand continues to massage your other tit, and his other hand is, well… gripping your thigh.
“satoru,” you gasp, but he pays no heed. you push him away from you slightly. “satoru!”
that breaks him out of his daze, looking up at you. “did i do something?”
“could you um… could we grind?” you whisper.
“i can touch your pussy?” he ask hungrily, eyes gleaming.
“no!” you yelp, “not directly at least, we aren't there yet. but could i… grind on you for a bit?”
“fuck yeah you can!” he almost shouts. he pulls his leg up, his knee pushing against your clit.
with how sensitive and horny you are, that little move makes you moan, sending shivers up your body. and this bratty demon descends upon you immediately. he’s back to suckling on your tit, while the other hand massages your other one, gently pulling your nipple now and then. the sensitivity added with the gentle tugging creates a delicious sort of slightly painful yet soothing delight. your back arches and he most definitely cannot be comfortable in his position to satisfy you in every place all at once but he doesn't even pause for a moment, not letting up on his knee grinding on your clit. 
“satoru, satoru, slow down,” you gasp, the sensitivity knowing no bounds.
“no,” he replies “i don't get to see you in your panties even! i'm taking whatever i caaan,” he says in a sing song way, going back to his sucking.
“fuck you!” you gasp, writhing at this point.
he makes a sound that you cannot decipher, and moves his hand from your thigh to your clit, pinching it, eyes flitting up to see your reaction.
“fuck! fuck!” you exclaim, “more, toru, please!"
"yeah baby?" he asks, rubbing which circles around your clit, as if he would ever hesitate to give you anything, ever. he looks down at you, the state you're in. tank top pushed all the way up, uncovering your breasts, your soft tits jiggling up and down, as you grind down to meet his fingers. and as he looks down to his fingers, he sees the prominent lips of your pussy through your shorts as his fingers pressed unwavering against your little clit. one day. he is so close.
you are so close.
the heat in your body is building up, the pressure in your tummy rising. the band stretches tighter and tighter and satoru, that evil boy is only enjoying this. your period addled brain cannot ever string together an insult to throw his way, and instead you wantonly moan, motioning for him to come closer.
he leans in, an eyebrow quicker up.
"kiss," you whisper. "needta kiss you toru."
that takes him by surprise. 
"of- course you can, pretty girl," he whispers back, "been dreaming of this day".
with that, your lips meet, and it's immediately sloppy and desperate. tongue and gloss and indignance from both sides have your eyes rolled to the back of your head soon enough, so much so that you don't even realize that you've let go of the pressure that was building up, the band snapping.
with a gasp, you orgasm, shaking against satoru, who doesn't even seem to be phased. he's taken lapping and nipping against your lips as you come down from the high. your shaky fingers come to grasp his toned arms.
"hmm, how's that for some pms relief, huh?" he mutters against you, laying himself on you gingerly, making sure he isn't squishing your tits accidentally. "good job, both of you," he says, looking at your tits.
"and good job to you too, cutie," he says, looking up to you. he looks content and smug. "still think I'm a dork after all that?"
you pull a face, too sleepy and too, well whipped to insult him. he looks so sexy and adorable at the same time. proud and happy and eager all at once, his hair sticking up. you reach out to ruffle his hair and pull his ear. 
"you're not off of massaging duty though. I have a full night's sleep to catch up on after I clean myself up," you grunt, pushing yourself off of the bed to go to the bathroom. 
satoru follows you, like a puppy. 
you turn back to look at him. "are you gonna um… take care of yourself?"
"yeah, about that," he mutters, looking away, his hands hovering over the crotch of his sweatpants. "you don't have to worry about that- "
you yank his hands away from his crotch to reveal a dark stain down the front of it.
"you fucking dork!" you exclaim, laughing "you came just from that? I didn't even touch you!"
"yeah yeah, laugh all you want, after using me like that" he rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink. 
"when did you even come?"
he remains quiet.
"satoru," you egg on gleefully, almost forgetting all the pain you are in.
"there was a lot of precum when you first made me grab your tits… and then I came when I… when I saw em bare for the first time," he trails off.
you smack his shoulder. "you pathetic boy!" you laugh, "is that why you wouldn't let up on me"
"fuck off, you're such a meanie, and after I just gave you the best time ever!" he shouts, closing his ears, dashing past you to the bathroom. 
you follow him, and he's kicking off his sweatpants and pulling off his underwear. "don't look!" he shrieks, face red. 
"I'm not looking" you laugh, turning away and beginning to change too. "I just wanna get cleaned up and go back to sleep."
he grunts. "can I -"
"can you what?"
you see the tips of his ears are pink as he throws one of the many pairs of shorts he left at your place before. 
"can I suck on your right tit and jiggle your left one while you sleep and after that maybe put my head between your thi- "
"satoru!"
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first smut fic yay!
comments, likes, reblogs and excited rambling tags are HIGHLY APPRECIATED! ❤
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bbmsxlene · 2 months
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in which: y/n, a common and unpopular girl falls in love with Suguru Geto, the most popular guy on campus. She always knew he was out of reach, so why does she keep trying? And why does it hurt so much?
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GROUPS :
1. hot moms club
2. alvin and the chipmunks
3. extras
“ 📖 - EMO “
“ 📖 - QUEEN ”
“ 📖 - DO I KNOW YOU ?”
A/N : do not expect me to update daily because i can’t PHYSICALLY do it i’m so sorry </3
(20/50) TAGLIST : @conan-hearts-u @mixzimtwo @shotovhs @polarbvnny @h3r-litt1e-w0rld @nahoye @satoryaa @bladesoap @lylovw @legbouk @zoaqttz @reiluvr @raechu11 @arysbruv @rykuunas @tojirin @ich1koko @iamhasuya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @satanloveseveryone @luvlybeom
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meiporang · 2 years
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☆ ఌ︎ . . 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴
☆ ఌ︎ . . kunikuzushi / scaramouche x reader
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"i love you, kuni."
he doesn't understand, he really doesn't.
"..you don't mean it, [name]," he manages to whisper.
"why would you want to be with someone like me? i'm not a good person."
he thinks it's stupid of you to love him; a murderer, a fruitless creation. his hands are far too bloody to hold you, to embrace you.
"but-"
"stop it, [name]. all that pursuing me is going to bring is disappointment. just.. leave me alone."
"you stop it! stop trying to push me away from you kuni, just listen to me–" the way your voice cracks shatters his heart to pieces.
"i love you for you. i understand you don't trust me, but please, give me a chance," you breathe out.
he can feel eyes brimming with tears. "but i'm a dick to you. i can't watch my mouth, and-" he chokes back a sob. "you always put up with it, and you're so patient with me. i don't get it. you're so, so stupid."
you don't respond to his words but wrap your arms around his shaking body, a hand threading through his silky locks of hair.
the glistening tears he's been holding back finally fall onto his soft cheeks.
you can't help but find him beautiful even when he's crying.
"kuni, i'm patient with you because i know you're not a bad person. i wait for you because i know you're stubborn. please don't speak so low about yourself." you stop embracing him for a moment to dry his tears.
"so, kuni, will you let me love you?"
he still doesn't trust you, but he wants to.
"okay," he whispers into the crook of your neck.
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a/n : so i decided it'd be a great idea to write some cheesy angst for my pookie for my first post lolll
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