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palioom · 2 months

Text

starving

summary: joel comes back from patrol to find you have kept your promise to him.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; established relationship; overstimulation; orgasm denial/edging; dirty talk (joel has a filthy mouth); oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some softness in the end; choking (a lil)

a/n: we're back after almost a month of hiatus, with a fic also written last summer! I hope you enjoy

thank you to my love @aurasjournal for the moodboard 🖤

IMPORTANT as tlou is made by a Zionist, as well as part 2 being based on the oppression of Palestine by Israel, I urge you to educate yourself in the light of the genocide happening in Palestine, specifically Gaza, right now. I cannot in good conscience post for Joel without bringing awareness to the horrific things that have been going on for 5 months.

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follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

She had been wound up tight all week - always was when Joel was on patrol somewhere, made worse by the fact that the way back had been cut off by an unexpected, small avalanche.

She was worried about whether he was safe up there with Tommy. He would be. Joel was good at surviving things, she gathered that much from the little talking he had done with her.

He was an interesting man, only too quiet, never liked to talk about his past too much, so she had gathered everything of importance from Ellie or Tommy once they had become a little more serious.

Of course he’d be fine.

But if she had known he’d be gone for a little over a week instead of a day or two, she never would have promised him shit before he left.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself, darlin’.” He had said to her before he left, his rough, calloused palm on the softness of her cheek. “Wanna see her dripping and needy for me when I come back.”

Oh, dripping and needy she was. And it was even now, having fought the urge back ever since day three.

Day one was easy, two became just a little annoying, so used to having his thick length buried inside of her almost daily. Unless he had to patrol, which really was the only time he didn’t fuck her.

Because even when he was too exhausted, she would simply turn him onto his back and bounce on his dick until she was satisfied. Much to his amusement.

On day three, the throbbing between her legs became more than annoying, it bothered her, clouding her thinking. It was tempting to just sneak her hand into her underwear at home and get herself off with her fingers.

But she didn’t, only squeezing her thighs together to find some semblance of relief.

After that, things had only gone downhill.

So when he was finally back, safe and unharmed, it hadn’t taken long to go from sweet kisses by the entrance to demanding ones in their bedroom.

Ready to burst right here.

Joel had barely managed to take his thick winter coat off before she had dragged him there, his large hands now opening her flannel, then wandering beneath her undershirt to feel her warm skin.

A hiss left her, caught by his mouth as he pushed his tongue against hers, goosebumps breaking out on her skin at how icy he felt. Pressing himself against her as if to warm himself.

He was fucking freezing, his fingertips a little numb despite his thick gloves, and she was so damn warm, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Fuckin’ missed you, sweetheart.” Joel rasped, hands leaving her skin to open her jeans as quickly as he could, slowly regaining the feeling in his fingertips. “Been a good girl for me?”

She hummed affirmatively, stilling when he shoved his hand down the front of her jeans.

“Oh, baby, she’s desperate.”

His cold fingers pressed against her clit over the wet material of her panties, the change in temperature making her shiver. That was almost enough to make her cum, her hand coming to claw at his wrist.

“Not like this- Fuck me, Joel.” She whispered, desperate and impatient.

Surprised that he just pulled his hand back out, now hastily working to get her undressed, her own hands started working on his pants.

The air felt even colder when he had her naked, pushing her onto the bed, leaning over her to kiss and nip at her neck, then down to her chest.

His beard scratched over her skin, her hands in his grey hair, slightly wet from the snow.

Like a man starving, he sucked bruises into her skin, bit at her until small imprints showed. Showed she was his.

Joel knew he didn’t have to worry, there were no signs she would ever stray. Not with the way he fucked her, the way he took care of her.

She had it too damn good with him, he kept the creeps away and generally kept an eye out for her.

Still, he liked to show she was his, that no one else could have her, even if they tried.

His tongue found her pebbled nipple, sucking it into his mouth while his hand squeezed and pinched at her other breast, making her arch into his touch with a drawn out whine.

She was always so responsive to his touch.

So cold but so good, goosebumps on her skin, hands tugging at his hair.

“Stop teasing.” She whispered breathlessly, earning a harder bite from him, his dark eyes finding hers as he looked up at her. So hungry.

“Someone’s impatient.” His mouth wandered lower, despite his words, hands staying on her breasts when he found her wet heat.

Joel's tongue dipped into her and made her moan, just about ready to burst. Especially with the way his tongue flicked over her clit, sucking on it before letting the tip glide over it again.

Joel noticed how quickly her legs started shaking, her fingers curling into his hair tightly, his own digging into her thighs as he spread her open. Feeling her muscles spasm below her skin as he kept licking at her, eating her out like she was his last meal.

It happened way too fast, throwing her head back as the coil inside her tightened and snapped so suddenly, her body shaking as her orgasm rushed through her unexpectedly.

“Oh fuck- Joel-” She moaned, her legs fighting against his broad hands but he kept her spread open, working her through it.

Too worked up from him having been gone that she just couldn’t last any longer, feeling a little self conscious about just how quickly he had pulled her apart already.

“Seriously, sweetheart?” Joel asked when he lifted his head, looking up at her from where he kneeled between her open thighs. His beard was wet with her, a ravenous expression on his face. “That was way too damn short, darlin’.”

His words burned on her skin, unable to look him in the eyes so she stared at the ceiling instead.

That really was embarrassingly fast, her fingers carding through his silvery hair.

“Sorry, Joel. I’ve been so damn horny all week and-”

He shushed her, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh. His beard scratching her, making her shiver.

“Let’s go a little longer, I’m not done with you yet.” His chuckle was deep, tongue finding her middle again with a hum.

She whined, still a little sensitive as he worked his tongue over her clit repeatedly, back arching and her fingers curling back into his locks.

The heat came back immediately, settling in her abdomen, his tongue now moving down to find her soaking entrance, pushing inside.

Feeling her pulse around him when he fucked into her, his nose bumping against her clit in time with his movements, making her whine.

“Right there, Joel, yes!” She breathed, already feeling another orgasm approaching rapidly. “I’m close already, fuck. You feel good.”

Pushing her over a second time, he made her cry out, her legs shaking as he once again worked her through it.

But he didn’t stop.

Joel just kept going, not giving her time to come down from her high, the buzz steadily moving through her body.

It was then that she realized he really was far from done with her, looking down at him with furrowed brows, while the glint in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Joel-” She whined, feeling another rush coming, trying to scramble away from him somehow but he had an iron grip on her thighs.

He hummed against her, shaking his head No. She could swear he was grinning, doubling down on his efforts, tearing another orgasm from her.

The pleasure bordered on pain at this point, every nerve feeling like it was on fire as she shook, his tongue alternating between her clit and her pulsing hole.

God, he could be such an asshole, going on until tears were in her eyes, right on the brink of the fourth one.

Leaning back and licking his lips while he looked at her, squirming and shaking. A gasp left her when he worked two of his thick fingers into her, her legs clamping shut around his arm as he began to pump them in and out of her.

“Told you I’m not done with you yet, darlin’.” He rasped, using his other hand to open her legs again, teeth sinking into the soft skin before his tongue soothed over the marks. “She’s hungry still, must’ve been starving the whole time.”

Her hands fisted the sheets, head rolling from side to side as he built her up, scissoring his fingers before pushing into that soft spot inside of her again.

Then he let her fall, pulling his fingers out, laughing at the long whine that left her, the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Like she didn’t know what she wanted, to cum again or to be left alone.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry.” Joel chuckled, like he was mocking her. Somehow she liked it, the pulsing between her legs becoming worse, feeling empty. “Thought I’d give your little pussy some lovin’, she must have been so neglected.”

She lifted her head, trying to glare daggers at him but failing when his fingers rubbed over her clit, once again building her up just short of the peak, then removing them, his hand finding her breast, groping and squeezing at it.

What wonderful sounds she made, first feeling too much and now too little.

Maybe he should leave for extended periods more often, she clearly enjoyed the way he treated her right now, making up for time lost but also depriving her of what she really wanted.

“You’re mean.” She gasped, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

She looked so fucked out already, yet he hadn’t even gotten his fill.

“I can be mean, sweetheart.” Joel said, letting go of her again and standing up, just watching how she writhed, deprived of his rough palms. “Wouldn’t like me when I am.”

“Joel, please!” She cried, one of her hands wandering over her stomach and to her aching pussy. But Joel was quicker, grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Don’t worry, baby, gonna get what you want when you’re fucking patient.” He said, letting go of her, moving to take off his pants. “Spent a whole week without me, can wait a couple minutes longer, can’t you?”

She watched him, growing frustrated at just how slowly he seemed to take off his jeans, then his underwear.

Then, finally, his hard cock was springing free, head glistening with precum.

Hovering over her, he nestled in between her legs.

She squirmed more, her hands running over his arms, feeling his muscles flex beneath the skin, coming up to cup his cheeks.

“So, so needy.” He chuckled, taking himself in hand, hitting her sensitive clit with the fat head of his cock a few times. The action made her whimper, fingers curling into his arms.

Shooting electricity through her, her whole body taut, just needing him to push inside of her.

“Joel, can you fucking move?”

The corner of his lips curled slightly upwards, finding her entrance before pushing inside with one fluid motion, knocking the air out of her at the sudden intrusion.

His lips attached to her neck with a groan, feeling how tight she was gripping him. Like she wanted to strangle his dick, always so damn tight.

“Don’t get mouthy with me, sweetheart.” Joel said, hooking her leg over his hips, squeezing the soft flesh.

“‘M not.” She gasped, feeling so full of him, ready to burst again.

Slowly he began to move, shallow at first before thrusting deeper.

Pushing her up higher on the bed with each thrust, making her cry out and hold onto him, her head too dizzy and hazy as he fucked into her, letting out the week’s frustrations.

All that escaped her were incoherent ramblings, slurred whimpers and moans as she threw her head back, exposing more of her neck to him, his lips still dancing over the skin.

“Shut up pretty fast with some cock in you, sweet darlin’.” He chuckled, voice strained and clearly losing himself slowly. Her wet pussy and her cockdrunk face were too much even for him after he’d been away from her that long.

He’d gone without it for longer, but now that he could fuck her every night, even just a day had seemed like an awfully long time.

“Joel-” She mewled, voice high-pitched and so, so desperate.

“Yeah, tell me who makes you feel this good.” Joel said, lifting his head to look at her, one of his broad, rough hands coming up to wrap around her throat. Making her gasp as he squeezed the sides lightly, feeling her pulse throb in time with her sweet hole around him. “Say it, baby, keep sayin’ it. Whose cock is feeding your starvin’ pussy?”

She opened her eyes, finding his dark ones.

“You- Yours, Joel!” She cried out, feeling her head become lighter as he cut off the blood flow, hazy smile on her face, jaw slack as he fucked into her. The words caught on her breath as she forced them out, stuttering. “Your cock, fucking- Fucking me so good!”

Joel almost snarled, thrusting harder, losing his rhythm. Jaw set so tight she could see the veins throb on his neck.

“That’s right, pretty girl. Hungry little pussy, what a poor thing.” He groaned, grip tightening around her throat, grinning at the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “C’mon, be a good girl and let me feed it.”

The coil inside her snapped again, almost painfully as she sucked in a shaky breath, her cries muffled by his mouth when he bent down to slot his lips over hers. Her heels dug into his lower back, pulling him deeper as she trembled, nails digging into his skin.

Everything hurt as he kept pounding into her, her veins filled with fire, his skin against hers hot, like it was burning her, her clit too sensitive as the coarse hair above his dick kept brushing against it.

But she loved it, the pleasure that wasn’t bordering on pain anymore, but actually hurt her in the best way possible, her entire body too stimulated.

It didn’t need much more for him to break, stilling inside her with a hiss that was swallowed by her mouth as he spilled himself inside of her, giving her exactly what she needed. Filled to the brim by his cock and his cum, humming as the pulsing of him didn’t seem to end, his hand around her throat just tightening a little more.

He loosened his grip when he felt her legs falling away from his waist, moving back to look at her face, blissed out while her body became boneless beneath him.

“My good girl.” He said, seeming less tense as he hovered above her still, the corners of his mouth slightly curled upwards, his hand moving up to brush some hair from her damp forehead. “Been too hungry.”

She giggled, catching her breath, feeling the blood rush back into her head as she laid there, feeling him soften inside of her.

“Not anymore.” The words were barely more than a quiet mumble, her weak hand coming up to cup his cheek, his coarse beard biting into the soft flesh of her palm. “Really missed you, though.”

In the quiet afterglow, the worry finally crept back in. She had been too pent up, too excited when he had walked into the door earlier, relieved to see him back but her need for him drove away all the worries of the past week.

Joel saw the change in her face, kissing her forehead tenderly.

“Been at the lodge when it happened, don’t worry, sweetheart.” He said, seeing her nod in understanding.

Silence fell between them, and she grew tired as she looked up at him, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Joel had worn her out pretty well, boneless and spent.

After pulling out slowly, he helped her get under the covers, his body finally warm again as he pulled her against his chest.

“You can take longer patrols, you know.” She said, her hot breath fanning over his neck where she had buried her face. “Hated you being away but if you fuck me like this every time you come home…”

Her words trailed off into the silence, making him chuckle.

“But no avalanches.” He said, making her giggle. “Love when she’s starved for me, sweetheart. Will see what I can do tomorrow, yeah?”

She nodded, eyes closing and enjoying his warmth again, his firm body against hers, strong arm wrapped around her waist.

Yeah, if he fucked her like this every time he came home from a long stretch of patrol, she definitely could manage being away from him for some time.

Starving for his touch and his cock.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedrostories #my writing

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tiredmamaissy · 6 months

Text

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips.

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’.

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit.

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible.

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap. “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure?

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

2K notes · View notes

fishyfishyfishtimes · 5 months

Text

Daily fish fact #4 062 993

General fish fact!

Fish have gills maybe. Sometimes, I think? Uhh....

#fish #fishfact #fish facts #marine biology #biology #zoology #general fish fact

( 1 note )

🧊 grønland-citizen follow

Only 100 years old... he shouldve been at the blub :(

( 40 notes )

🖤 pandawhale follow

Liveblogging my migration! ;)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Found a fish! Ate it >:)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming!!!

🖤 pandawhale follow

My sister and I bullied this humpback for a lil before our ma told us to stop. What a party pooper..

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming and balancing a fish on my head B)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Sorry forgot to update. Swimming!

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming..... still swimming....

🖤 pandawhale follow

Cod why did I think this was a good idea we're just swimming a dozen million miles and that's it

🎣 murican-shad follow

So, um... what was that about the fish?

( 153 notes )

💤 manatee-ing-just-fine follow

"Hey, did you hear about the recent-"

No, I didn't. I'm literally so unbothered by fishcourse I couldn't care less. I'm just goin with the flow. Riding the waves. Chilling. Moisturised and in my lane. Do you think the moss on my back signifies anything other than my peaceful adn pacifist nature. I'm just a Guy

( 588 notes )

🐟 migrating-gal follow

OOOHHHH MY COD YOU FRYS!!! You have no idea holy carp holy carp theres this one atlantic salmon migrating at the same time as me,,,, says we're going to the same river,,, her sides are such a gorgeous rich chestnut colour and shes so large compared to me and her belly accentuates her curves and shape in the best way! Her scales are so shiny too? Shes practically glowing!!! UGH every time we swim next to each other i wish there was a small creek so that she'd be forced to swim over me and crush me with her whole body weight

🧦 s0ckk-eye follow

Horny on main again?

🐟 migrating-gal follow

Oh, when I post about MY crushes its suddenly soo strange and unusual? Sure mr. "where can i find a salmon who will bite me right". sure. It's literally the season!

🧦 s0ckk-eye follow

You cannot prove I said that.

#/hj #hush hush #lets just pretend neither of us said anything thanks ;))

( 22 notes )

🐡 puffering follow

Felt bored. Doodled this.

( 9,432 notes )

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

Ngl I really hate how barren fish representation actually is :( There's two types of fish ever. Fish and shark and sometimes ray. They always show generic fishes only, like nonspecific fishes with one or two primary colours plastered on the side. Where are the pipefishes? The anemonefishes? The anglerfishes? The damselfishes? The morays? The hogfishes? The groupers? The marlins, the tunas? Even the wrasses???? There are never any specific species, just red fish, blue fish, that's it!

🌠 stargazing-in-antarctica follow

I would also like to bring up unflattering fishes. It's always reef fishes that get their spotlight to shine, but I've never even seen another stargazer portrayed in a good light on TV

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

!!!! This is so true! There's so many of us who never get our chance to be seen anywhere and it makes me so sad :( No diversity at all in the casts of recent underwater movies.

🦈 zzz-in-pyjamas-zzz follow

even the representation that does exist for specific fishes sucks. sharks like myself never see ourselves be shown as anything other than bloodthirsty killers :( we get generalised into a single stereotype of a big gray murderbeast

🔲 among-the-sea-weeds-deactivated follow

Anemonefishes are underrepresented?? umm okay. so we're just gonna pretend like a clownfish didn't star in the single biggest fish movie of all time? Where the sharks are portrayed as nice people mind you so why are you even whining. okay. sure. cool. Really need more clownfish movies out there!!!!

🪸 acidicanemone follow

No need to be passive aggressive @among-the-seaweeds-deactivated. You say anemonefishes are oversaturated in the media? In that case, point me to the seemingly abundant movies where two-band anemonefishes are the main character? How about the ones with only Mauritian and orange-fin anemonefish leads? Red saddlebacks, tomato anemonefish, orange anemonefish, skunk anemonefish, wide-band anemonefish, I could go on. Just because one species of anemonefish, the clown anemonefish, starred in one movie doesn't mean that the rest have it super nice and cozy.

Finding Nemo wasn't even too good for clown anemonefishes either. It's the only movie many have seen that even features a clownfish in a speaking role. My anemonefish roommate has often had people calling her Nemo or asking her to tell a joke because it's a "funny gag" from the movie. It's the first thing people tell her when they meet her a lot of the time. Trust me, the only person who has a problem with better fish species representation is you.

🐬 the-spinnerrrrrr follow

Did

Did you also miss the part where the shark goes on a massive murder rampage over two (2) tiny fishes because he smelled A Blood

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

This person had a ton of anti-dolphin posts on their account too, why am I not surprised 😭😭😭 We need to pull each other up, not put a whole subfamily down for cod's sake. Anemonefishes are called "Nemofish" to this day and age still

🦑 strawberry-squid follow

"We need to pull each other up, not put a whole subfamily down."

Beautifully said.

#deep sea talks #long post #fishcourse

( 644,214 notes )

🐚 gob-y-lin-cave follow

Just moved into my new place! It's this wonderful sandy crevice with a beautiful view of the kelp and a good nice rocky back wall for support. Hope the neighbours are nice and don't throw their sand into my hole like at my last neighbourhood

😎 the-goby-living-next-to-your-cave follow

hey

🐚 gob-y-lin-cave follow

what the fuck

( 1,201 notes )

🌟 bioluminescent-girlboss follow

can someone please come hang out with me in the deep sea? :( it's so boring here...

🦐 shrimpy-wimpy follow

I can! :)

🌟 bioluminescent-girlboss follow

wonderful! Come Closer please. to the Light.

🌑 tunicate-tunes-527 follow

RIP @shrimpy-wimpy it's been more than 3 hours 💀💀💀💀

🦐 shrimpy-wimpy follow

hopital

🌑 tunicate-tunes-527 follow

SHE LIVED!!!????????

#WHAT THE FUUUUUUUU

( 362 notes )

🐉 autistic-rhinomuraena follow

Pictures of my transition journey :}

🪶 pelicans-we follow

Oh look at you !!!!! You look so much happier and more comfortable in your latest picture! So happy for you!!

🌔 look-to-the-moon-wrasse follow

I can't wait to go through my transition myself :]c

#only i'll vbe transitioning in the opposite direction haha #*be

( 4,009 notes )

🐢 xxleatherbackxx follow

New drawing of a terramaid!! 👩👩🐟🐟

🐙 magnapining follow

Okay but imagine if terramaids we're actually real. To live on land there scales would probably be all dry and rough-textured! Brushing against them would immediately ruin your slimecooat, probably

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

Ah, thanks. I hate it.

🐳 left-whale follow

Since they're half human and humans have hair, what if they had

THESE!???

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

NOOOOO DON'T RUIN TERRAMAIDS LIKE THIS FOR ME ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

🐋 big-blue-offishial follow

There's more. With a human lower half, they most likely give birth to live young as well. And with mammalian reproduction habits comes the, well....

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

STOP THIS SHADNESS THIS INSTANT

🌊 pull-the-triggerfish follow

Since they have a human lower half with a human digestive system that means they have a human diet too, right?

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

why

🐋 big-blue-offishial follow

Too much time in our flippers, dear.

Oh, and a need to make everything cursed. Of course.

🐢 xxleatherbackxx follow

Please stop reblogging this 😭😭😭 I just wanted to show off my art

#not my art #im so tired i keep getting notifs for this post #let me rest

( 428,497 notes )

🐌 hadal-snailfish follow

*moves one inch*

#unreality #tw unreality #fake post #fakeposting #fake posts #marine biology #aquatic #my art #fishblr #long post #teeth tw #teeth #merfolk #mermaid #fish

883 notes · View notes

joeys-babe · 5 months

Text

Joey B Imagines: Don’t Give up on Me

————————————————————————-

Summary: When being the girlfriend of an NFL heartthrob starts to feel suffocating, and you feel like running, Joe tries to convince you to stay with him.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

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*no specific date for this fic!*

You couldn't take it anymore. It was just that simple.

Getting together with Joe back in September of 2022 felt like a fever dream. He gave you everything you could want or need in a boyfriend and you seriously loved him.

At one point you might've even said he was the one.

Joe himself hadn't done anything to change that idea, it was the fans and the attention that came with him.

After dating for a year, Joe finally proposed the idea of going public. You guys weren't necessarily hiding your relationship since you went to games and such, but it hadn't been openly proclaimed.

You were excited and giddy, sitting on the couch next to Joe as you both curated Instagram posts of pictures of you two. After tagging one another and hitting the post button, you and Joe turned your phones off and spent the evening just with each other.

Joe was ecstatic that his relationship with you was out in the open, everyone finally knew he was taken and he was taken by the girl he thought he was going to marry.

Later that night when Joe was fast asleep next to you in bed, you turned your phone back on and went through the comments.

“Not cute…”

“He could totally do better…”

“Sad that he's choosing to settle.”

“She has to be fire in bed or smt 💀.”

“She doesn't even have a body.”

“Obviously he went for personality.”

“He def cheats on her every day.”

“Gold Digger!”

“Using him for status Fs.”

“He could have a model but chose that?”

It seemed like the comments had turned into an endless stream of hate, all against you.

The words made you start to think things that you never would have thought before tonight. You felt secure in your relationship with Joe, but now? Now it felt like at any moment he was able to walk out on you and find someone better.

Sitting in bed staring at your phone as a waterfall-like flow of tears streaming down your face, it suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe.

You jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. Hearing Joe yelling behind you, you kept running. You ran till you were down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out of the back door.

Everything was a blur from how hard you were crying but you could barely make out the porch swing and fell into it.

Sobbing into your hands, you had never felt so small, useless, ugly, and so much more.

“y/n? Are you okay? What happened?” - Joe

Flinching when you felt a hand on the top of your head, you pulled away from your own hands to look up at Joe.

He stood there looking scared for what you were going to say, fearing the worst.

“The fans, Joe… they hate me.” - you

Joe almost felt his own heart shatter when he heard those words leave your lips. You were the woman he was in love with and this was all because of the people who call themselves his fans?

“Baby… don't pay attention to what they say. Any person who says negative things about you is no fan of mine. Look at me.” - Joe

Looking up at Joe, he cupped your jaw with his hand and rubbed over your cheek with his thumb.

“Don't read those comments and if you do, don't listen to what they say. They don't know you, they don’t know me, and they don't know us. I love you with every fiber of my being, please don't feel wary because of something someone else said...” - Joe

At that moment a little bit of security came back, but you still felt like total shit that was unworthy of how good of a man Joe was.

Joe had made a statement during a press conference the following day, addressing the hate and how much he detested it and resented anyone who spoke such words to be a fan of his.

He had promised you that things would change in a week, but a week later they hadn't. In fact, it got worse.

That's why you made the hardest decision of your life and decided to part ways from him.

It was the best for you and your well-being, as much as you loved Joe. You pondered and pondered this decision but knew it was the right one. There didn't seem to be a life that you could picture without Joe in it, but for now, you needed to be away.

Joe was at practice when you started packing your things up. You planned to be gone by the time he was home because you knew saying goodbye to him face-to-face would just make things harder.

That's why you froze in place when you heard the garage door open.

How was he home an hour before practice was supposed to even end?

You were finishing the goodbye letter when Joe walked into the kitchen through the door from the garage.

“Hey baby, the practice was so good that Zac cut it short.” - Joe

It broke your heart when you looked up to see his smiling face, knowing it was probably the last time you would see it.

“Hey…” - you moved your suitcases from out behind the kitchen counter

Joe’s smile dropped and he looked at you confused. His heart rate was getting increasingly fast and he was internally freaking out.

“What's that for?” - Joe

You couldn't choke out an answer and Joe asked another question.

“Going on a surprise trip?” - Joe nervously laughed

“No uhm… I'm going home.” - you

“Home? What do you mean? You are home.” - Joe

“I’m moving back in with my friend in Columbus. I can't take it anymore Joe. The backlash is too much… and I hate myself because of what they say.” - you

He stared blankly as he felt his stomach drop. This couldn't be happening.

“You're leav- leaving m-me?” - Joe

“I’m so sorry Joe. It wasn't you at all, you showed me what it was like to truly be loved. I just can't find myself staying in a relationship where I get constantly hated on just because I like a boy. Don't take it personally.” - you

“y/n… please don't leave. I love you. I love you more than anyone else that has ever been in my life. You mean more to me than anything in this world… I- I can't go on without you.” - Joe

By this point, you guys were both crying your eyes out.

“You have to learn how to Joe.” - you cried

“I don't want to learn! I want you!” - Joe

“Maybe there's a life where we work out… but it's not this one.” - you

Joe walked towards you, he thought you were going to reject him but you opened your arms. He cried into your neck and held you so tight, like if he let go you were going to disappear. Which in a way, was true.

“Don’t go. Please don't go. I can't live without you. I’m so sorry that being with me hurt you so much, but as much as I try to I can't control it.” - Joe

He was hiccuping and so close to hyperventilating that it scared you. You knew the breakup would hurt but you didn't think it would affect him this much.

“Breath, Joe. You're gonna hyperventilate.” - you

You held him and rubbed his back until his breathing slowed down, but his crying hadn't. Something about what he said resonated with you. He couldn't control what they said, as much as he tried to prevent it. It wasn't his fault. You knew that, but did you know it? Was leaving him really the best option?

Joe pulled away from my neck and looked at me with red puffy eyes.

“y/n… please don't give up on me.” - Joe

His eyes looked pleading. He was begging you.

“I’ll do anything. Tell me something and I’ll do it… please. Tell me something.” - Joe

“You don’t have to do anything.” - you

“Wh-what?” - Joe

“I change my mind. Leaving you isn't the best option. I can't run away from my problems, I have to face them.” - you

“And I'll face them with you. I'll always be right by your side y/n. You're it for me.” - Joe

“You’re it for me.” - you

He hugged me tight again before pulling away and taking hold of my suitcases.

“Fuck I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life. I thought I was going to pass out.” - Joe

“Sorry.” - you

“No, it's okay. But can you make it clear that you're staying because you want to, not just for my sake?” - Joe

“I’m staying because I want to. With you is where I want to be. I'm sorry I almost threw everything away over some stupid hate comments.” - you

“Baby they aren't stupid. Your feelings are important and I’m proud of you for putting your well-being first.” - Joe

You didn't know what to say so you just nodded.

Joe led you upstairs and put your suitcases back in the bedroom.

“Let's just take a warm bath and relax, sound okay?” - Joe

“Mhm.” - you

5 minutes later you both were submerged in warm water, you were sitting between Joe’s legs with your back to his chest as you laid your head on his shoulder.

Joe spread soft kisses on your shoulder blades, collarbones, and neck. This moment felt more intimate than it normally would since it felt like Joe was proving to you he was worth it.

“You are the strongest, loyal, beautiful, smart, humble, courageous, amazing woman. I'm so lucky to be your boyfriend.” - Joe

You hummed and nuzzled yourself into his neck.

“I love you, Joe.” - you

Joe was like a screwdriver. Unscrewing and uninstalling every negative word that had been drilled into your mind within the past week, one at a time. You were so lucky to have him in your tool belt.

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Authors note: first angsty imagine and I loved writing it! Shout out to the anons coming in clutch with the fun requests!!!

Request for this fic;

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

347 notes · View notes

iaure · 7 months

Text

𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1: 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

CW: delusion, chase sequence, desire to kill, fear of death, vivid description of bodily injury, kissing due to non-sexual desperation, non-lethal self-sacrifice

This part switches between Miguel's POV and the Reader's. ♱ stands for the translation being at the bottom of the post. please let me know immediately if there are any errors! Severe spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ it’s been very long! i am afraid i do not have much to say, aside that this was beta-read by the lovely @kinkandkreep !

wc: 7k

𝐘/𝐍 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

The landing of the Spider-Society that Y/N found herself on was dusty, unkept. It was clear that no one had been there for ages. Y/N had to hold back a sneeze. Glass riddled her abdomen and arms, and sneezing felt like something that’d turn her into even more of a mutated pin cushion. There was a cautious silence, or at least, as silent as Nueva York could get when there was a shattered glass window next to her. Her options were laid out before her. Y/N could go home, take care of her fish, and hide out. But Miguel inevitably would come to the same conclusion. That could mean devastation for her own city. Nuevo York wouldn’t be ready for someone like Miguel. Meanwhile, simply texting the neighbour to take care of Y/N’s pet would only take a second. Betty Boop the clownfish would prevail. There was tailing Gwen and the others-trying to intercept Miles in Earth-1610-B, to snag him before the others did. But there was no guarantee Y/N would find him. For an anomaly, he was slippery.

For an anomaly?

Y/N paused. Miles was an anomaly. So, hypothetically, since he used the Go Home Machine, it wouldn’t have read his DNA specifically. It would’ve read the DNA of his associated spider. Which meant...he wouldn’t have gone home. Y/N’s stomach churned, glass aside. Miles was all alone somewhere, lost and confused in a place that didn’t have room for him. He needed help, help that was someone he knew for sure was on his side. Gwen always meant well, and so did Peter B, but the damage on their end had been done. But she saw Miles’ face when he took the extra seconds she lent him. She knew that he knew.

Y/N input the coordinates for Earth-42.

The portal took a second to fizz to life. Y/N would need to get rid of the watch, considering its tracking capabilities. But Layla could track anyway. Layla was good, was sweet, but she was Miguel’s, and at the end of the day, it was about sending a message. Y/N wouldn’t need Miguel’s gadgets. She’d make her own. Or she’d find some other way to get home. And as she waited for the portal to be big enough to go through, a shiver went up her spine. There was the sound of metal being torn, 100 yards away. 80 yards. 60 yards. Shredded under something undoubtedly massive, torn from the side like a beast. It was grating, echoing through the empty bowels of the Spider-Society. And, unfortunately, Y/N knew exactly what that meant. Miguel was tearing up the sides of the tower to get to her, and Y/N was very much not planning to let him get anywhere near her. The portal stretched open as Miguel finally burst through the window. The excess glass seemed to bounce off of him, and there was a moment where Y/N was just jealous. How come her suit couldn’t do that, huh? Would’ve been nice. But Miguel spilled across the floor, trying to claw at anything to just find purchase to stop moving. It would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.

Miguel finally stopped moving about a yard away, on all fours and struggling to find his stance. He scrambled to his feet, booking it to Y/N with a shout. “Don’t move!” “You didn’t say ‘Simon’s Says’, Miguel.” Y/N quipped, shocking calm coming over her considering how scary this all was. She felt like she was in control. After all, Miguel hadn’t figured out Miles was on Earth-42 yet. She’d have some time before he figured it out, even if it was just a minute. She, finally, had the power. Miguel might be rushing at her with all the desperation of a starved man, but Y/N just needed to take a step back. This nightmare was almost over, or at least, this bout of it. The portal was already shrinking, and Miguel wouldn’t have the time to go through it. “No! No! Wait! Y/N!” Miguel’s tone was that of begging, a realisation that it was up to her own choice whether or not he’d win. His eyes were wide, with a puppy look that would’ve made Y/N crumble at any other time. He had it down on lock, if that included running on all fours and reaching out within an inch of space.

Y/N crushed the watch in her hands and fell through.

She never liked the feeling of teleporting. The colours made her head spin and hurt, but right now, it was like seeing secondary colour angels. There was no Miguel, no Spider-Society. It was her and the complete multiverse at her behest.

The portal spat her out in an alleyway, sending her crashing into some cardboard boxes. It took a second, but once she realised Miguel wasn’t going to immediately tear through space and time, Y/N could only turn into boneless goo. Her entire body went limp. She was bleeding from the arms and stomach, her torso practically obliterated from the three total times she went through glass. The adrenaline ebbed away to world-ending pain. It was truly only describable as an ache that made her want to die, consuming her whole as she slumped against the bricks of the alleyway. She placed her hand against her abdomen, pressing down and feeling the glass dig in. Part of Y/N wondered if this was it. She knew Earth-42 was dangerous, due to its lack of a Spider-Man. She was defenceless, wounded, feeble, dying. The end of the illustrious Spider-Woman of Earth-7290, in a world far from her own. It was disappointing that Y/N was going to die in a place so beautiful.

New York was something sacred. Somewhere direct from the original birthplace of Spider-Man. Not Nueva York, not Nuevo York, whatever faux iteration that was a spin-off. A thousand twinkling lights that replaced the stars, so bright that the day would pale in comparison. New York was home. Even from the grubby, ugly alleyway, Y/N could see the lights of Times Square. The voices of the masses, the promise of help if only she could raise her voice. But no. The danger outweighed the reward. Part of her wondered what would happen to her body after she died. Would it lay in the alleyway to rot? Would it disappear back to her home world, somehow, someway? And what of Nueva York? Would Miguel be so delusional as to get revenge on Y/N’s beloved city? Or would it be abandoned in the wake of his death? She would’ve been something of legend, if fate was kind. A hero, disappearing into the mist without explanation. But even then, that was disappointing.

An ache settled into her heart. A sadness that choked her, like a bitter pill. Y/N had her regrets. Her uncle Ben, her brother, not helping Miles and the rest of the kids more, not having the courage to step up to canon before. To not be a better Spider. Not a better Society member, but a better Spider. A Spider-Woman that the original Peter Parker would be proud of. Y/N was a guilty heart, safe for one more minute. She didn’t even have the strength to do much more than crane her head, staring up past the skyscrapers to the night sky. And as those sparkling lights dimmed and the darkness grew, Y/N saw a flash of purple before she knew no more.

Miguel couldn’t believe it.

It’d been ten minutes since Y/N had run. And it was something that could only be categorised as ‘against all odds’. Miles had gotten away. Y/N had gotten away. The Spider-Society was in shambles. Spiders were defecting left and right. Gwen, Jessica, Peter, and countless others were going off the map. Layla was working double-time to try and track them all, to figure out what they were trying to do. Miguel wanted to kill someone. Maybe it was Miles. Maybe it was Gwen, Hobie, Peter-any of the others that failed the multiverse. He didn’t want to kill Y/N, though. He wanted to pluck her up, feel her in his teeth, grip her arms so she could never leave. He wanted to rattle her like a toy before putting her in a box like a collectible. Something only he could touch, look at, play with. And he’d treat her well. He’d give her everything she could possibly want (within reason). She’d want for nothing. He’d even cover her world so she could retire from being Spider-Woman. So she could be safe.

Miguel couldn't understand it.

He thought about Y/N all day. All night. Every minute that air passed through his lungs was done with the intent of thinking about her. And he was so fucking mad because how did she not understand that? She ran, mindless, like some savanna animal as soon as he let the barrier down. He loved her, but god was she frustrating. He was being polite, and she completely disregarded it, tossed aside. She tossed him aside.

Y/N L/N did not love Miguel O'Hara.

And he hated that. He'd be the first to admit that letting the barrier down was a stupid idea. For what physical strength he had over Y/N, she had speed. And at the end of the day, strength means nothing if you can't hit your target. That last hit Y/N had landed on him made Miguel crash into a banking tower, scrawling down the side like a cat. Damn not being able to stick to walls. He'd just about yanked out his claws trying to hang on. And the watch! He should've made Spider-Byte deactivate it before anything else!

There were a lot of things Miguel should've done in hindsight.

He found himself scrubbing every possible world he could, from 1 to 10,000. With the watch destroyed and Layla overwhelmed with trying to track everyone everywhere all at once, there was no way to directly trace Y/N. If she was truly smart, she would’ve input some random number and go somewhere absolutely random. But Miguel knew Y/N. He’d studied her. He knew how she thought. That meant she would go somewhere at least a bit familiar, where she was likely to have some form of an ally. There were a few places. Earth-7290 (obviously), Earth-1610-B, Earth-50101-B, Earth-616, Earth-65...she had her pick, cream of the crop. It became a matter of elimination. Earth-616, Earth-65, and Earth-50101-B, Hobie, Gwen, and Pav’s worlds respectively, were bottom contenders. She wouldn’t inherently drag her issues into the worlds of her ‘kids’. And for the record, Miguel began to hate all three. Gwen was weak and a liability, Pav was naïve, and Hobie caused trouble for the sheer delight of it. Y/N’s little spawn wouldn’t be spared.

Y/N staying on Earth-928, in Nueva York, didn’t make sense either. The chances of him finding her in his own home territory was high, and she knew that too. That left Earth-7290 and Earth-1610-B, each for their own reasons. Miles had gone to 1610-B, as far as anyone knew, though Miguel had a hunch otherwise. Spiders don’t just disappear off the face of the earth. And 7290 was Y/N’s personal playground. That was her home turf. So either she went chasing after Miles, or she went to lick her wounds in her own world. It was a matter of which was more likely. But Lyla quickly put an end to his overthinking. She appeared before him, the glittering honeycomb hologram with a head tilt. Curious, but not too curious. Teasing but not disobedient. Just the way Miguel made her to be.

“She’s in Earth-42, Miguel.”

Miguel felt sick with delight. Finding Y/N’s location was only a matter of time once Lyla tracked down where Miles was. If he found the anomaly, then he found his guardian angel. And maybe Y/N was too stubborn for her own good. But her faults were Miguel’s successes. Where she stumbled, Miguel would appear, ready to set her on her feet with a firm grip on her arms. His stomach was turning over in joy, like he was a kid about to go on a rollercoaster for the first time.

“Good job.”

Miguel didn’t waste any time, spinning around and setting his watch for Earth-42. But as he tapped, Lyla spoke up, flickering next to his head. “Want me to call for backup?” “What?” Miguel paused, glancing up as his mask set itself over his face. Something so natural, yet so false. “Why?” “For Miles? I mean,” Lyla snorted. “You couldn’t take him by yourself.”

And Miguel paused.

In his mind, he’d completely obliterated the idea of going after Miles. The anomaly. The whole reason this was happening in the first place. And somehow, his priorities had gotten so…skewed. He froze in place, blinking at his watch owlishly. Why? When? How? It felt strangely unfathomable. Miguel had spent so long going, going, going, running on fumes for worlds that didn’t even know he existed. He saw red when Miles tried to run, but it didn’t seem to panic him as much as Y/N running did. And maybe he wasn’t the same Miguel. Maybe he’d changed. That’s what all the old people would say; that love changes people. And Miguel wasn’t sure if he was alright with that. Deep within the recesses of his mind, some lucidity lingered. The fear of letting the multiverse down, of what could happen if he didn’t go after Miles. But…

Why shouldn’t he indulge?

He was Miguel O’Hara. Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time he received something that was even the slightest bit good in his life? A reward, for all that he’d done. All that he would do, all that will be. He’d been fighting for everything he loved since the day he was born, and now he was just fighting some more. The rest of the Spider Society could figure out Miles. Peter B. Parker could finally step up and fix the problem he made. Everyone else could pay penance by letting Miguel have this. This one thing, this one person, that made everything feel better. He’d done his fair share of sins. This would just be another that he would inevitably pay for. And for once, he didn’t mind that.

“No. I’ll go it alone.”

Lyla raised an eyebrow, but Miguel pretended not to notice. Pretended like what he was doing wasn’t going to endanger the entire multiverse. Like he hadn’t completely rewrapped his life’s duty in the span of a day. He knew he’d pay for it someday, when he died and he had to suffer for the worlds of hurt he made. But right now, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care as much as he should. He had happiness, right in front of him.

He would not fail a second time.

“Are you sure she can be trusted?” “Uh...yeah. Pretty sure.” “Pretty sure?” “...yeah. Yeah.”

Y/N’s head felt like it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Everything ached, though it wasn’t as bad as before. Her sight was hazy, soft purple and black hues warbling in her vision. Two heads loomed over her. One was poor Miles, bruised and battered with his suit torn on the shoulder. He looked equal parts fearful and concerned, making Y/N’s heart wilt. Did she really scare the boy so much? But she looked over, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Y/N had seen the Prowler before. She’d fought the Prowler before, even. The visor was a bit weirder, and his head was tilted in the same way Miles’ was. But the Prowler was crouched before Y/N, arms on his knees in a pose that seemed far more demeaning than Miles’ crouch. Y/N’s heart bungee jumped from her stomach to her throat, and immediately, she tried scrambling backwards. But the blooming pain in her stomach made her gasp, and she went limp again. A quiet groan left her mouth. She hated how laboured her breathing was, soft huffs leaving her lips. “Told you she’d panic.” The Prowler muttered. Miles just shot him a look. “Why’re you here?” Miles spoke quietly as the Prowler rose, adjusting his gauntlet. The unspoken threat was there. “I…” Y/N huffed out, letting out a choked sigh. She set her hand on her stomach, trying to think past the pain. Against every good reason, she sat herself up against the nearest metal wall. Only then did Y/N realise that the glass was gone, and she’d been bandaged. She’d been hurt so much that her arms and stomach made her look like a mummy, and some blood seeped through. But it was the thought that mattered. The Prowler and Miles stared at her, one seeming far more threatening than the other. “I came to find you. Which…sounds bad. But I want you to hear me out.”

Miles stayed silent. Y/N set her head against the wall.

“I defected. Miguel’s gone off the deep end, bad. It’s stupid enough that his paranoia was entertained for so long. He’s snapped. Nothing he says or does makes sense anymore. And I’m sorry that no one tried to help you, back then, back when you were alone. I’m sorry so many people helped him.” Y/N let out another small groan, shutting her eyes. The lights of the kitchen were too bright. “This…all this ‘pick a side’ B.S., that’s not how Spider-Man does it. I know that this is asking a lot. You’ve had your trust completely destroyed. But I want to make it up. I want to help you save your-oof!” At once, Miles suddenly wrapped himself around Y/N in a hug. Though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his tears beginning to soak the front of her suit. The sting of her wounds were sharp across her nerves, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Miles was willing to trust her. That meant more than anything. “Thank you,” Y/N whispered, putting her arms around the teenager’s shoulders. He held on a bit tighter, but Y/N couldn’t hold back her hiss of pain. Instantly, Miles pulled away, hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, sorry! Wasn’t thinking.” “No, you’re okay,” Y/N gave a shaky smile, before glancing at the Prowler. She pointed between the two with a shaky hand. “Wanna…talk about this?” “No.” The Prowler huffed. “Yeah!” Miles leapt up, gently punching the Prowler’s arm. “This is Miles, too! I mean, me, but like…not me?” “Your alternate you,” Y/N nodded, picking up what Miles was putting down. “Your variant.” “What the hell happened to secret identities?” The Prowler groaned, letting his visor undo itself to reveal, indeed, another Miles with braids. He seemed miffed, rolling his eyes. “What? She’s cool! She gets it!” “Whatever.” P. Miles (as differentiated in Y/N’s head) stalked to the other side of the room, and Y/N realised the space was half kitchen, half gym. “How’d you find me?” Y/N glanced at Miles, raising a curious eyebrow. “Saw the portal.” Miles sat up on the counter as P. Miles began tinkering with his gauntlet across the room. “Thought it was Gwen, or Miguel, or any of the others…but when we saw you, I figured after what you did, I owed you.” “Miles…” Y/N sighed. “You don’t owe me anything.” “You bought me time. That’s pretty debt-worthy.” “It’s called doing the right thing.” “And doing the right thing means not letting you bleed out.” Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to shove down the smile. Despite how little time passed since everything started, she missed the banter. She missed the spider-teens, missed how everything was before Miguel snapped. She missed when Gwen, Pav, and Hobie would crash in her apartment and they’d watch whatever shitty soap operas were on TV and Y/N felt like a cool big sister. Now, everyone was scattered to the four winds. She wasn’t even sure if she’d ever get something like that again.

“So you two need to get back.”

P. Miles made Y/N snap out of her thoughts, and both she and Miles looked to him. “Yeah. 1610-B. If we can get to an Alchemax collider, then we can find another world with a Spider, use their watch, and get Miles home before supper.” “Supper. Supper’s a weird word.” Miles hummed. “Yeah. It kinda is. Whatever. There’s an Alchemax two miles from here. I can lead the way. You just have to not be dead weight.” P. Miles nodded, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Dead weight.” Y/N looked down to her torso, sighing. The pain was already creeping back, the adrenaline leaving her system as quickly as it came. “Yeah, well…no promises.” P. Miles scanned her up and down with an almost distasteful eye, before looking back to Miles. An unspeakable connection was there for a fleeting moment, but P. Miles broke his eye and walked over to the window. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out.” Miles winced at his variant’s tone, letting out a sigh before gently helping Y/N up. Everything shook, her knees nobbling like an old man in a cartoon. But with one hand on Miles’ shoulder and the other gripping the kitchen island, she found her balance. Damn the pain. Damn the multiverse. And damn Miguel. She’d get Miles home and beat Miguel’s ass while at it, with or without all her vital organs. And as she teetered upright, she took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

Miguel couldn’t bring himself to truly appreciate New York.

Nueva York was better, in his opinion. New York was barbaric, premature. Meanwhile, Nueva York was bright and with a lot more green. Maybe it was biassed, but as Miguel tore through the fabric of time and space, the stink of the city made him clear his throat. “Miguel, they’re on their way to this Earth’s Alchemax.” Lyla appeared before him, acting as a HUD as he walked. “Seems like they’re trying to find their way out.” “Yeah, well…” Miguel peered over the city, popping his neck. Ordinarily, he might’ve said something a little witty, a little mean, but now his mind was dead-set on finding Y/N. So close. So far.

Finding Alchemax wasn’t hard. The bright white building was obvious, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the greyscale and dark skyscrapers. Even moreso, the fleeing workers evidenced that maybe there were several people inside who were dressed in suits and doing something a little less than normal. The doors were yanked off the hinges, there was some smoke coming out of the upper levels, and it’s a bit astounding that they even did that much damage so fast. He walked past the doors. Alchemax was always a sore spot for Miguel. Obvious reasons aside, it was always somewhere that Spider-Man suffered. And now, Miguel was suffering. He was always chasing after Y/N, and to have an ending battle at Alchemax felt like a cruel twist of fate. And he knew it’d be hard. He knew he blew away any chances of a proper relationship when he’d shoved Y/N through the window, went after the kids, tore aside the sides of buildings to get to her. But that didn’t matter when he knew they were meant to be together. Sometimes, doing what was right for all parties was the hard thing. And Miguel was used to that, and was ready for it. He’d been doing the hard thing all his life. This was one of the most important hard things, yes, all cards were off the table. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. He’d do whatever it took to get what he was denied, for so long.

When he turned a corner, there was a sudden spike of…something. It was like a ‘ting’ in his entire body, a vibration against his throat that spread. Maybe this was the closest thing he’d ever feel to a spider sense, with the way it made his neck twitchy and his shoulders tense. He took such a deep breath that his back popped, a flicker in his eyes. She was close. How close, he wasn’t sure. But close enough. Maybe it was her scent that set him off, or the sound of the collider booting up, but either way it was enough to make him shudder. This had never happened before, not even when he had her in the anomaly containment cell. It was more of a predator-prey impulse, thick and heady and hanging in the air. Miguel wanted Y/N’s hair in his hands, her neck between his teeth, her back against his chest. It was a base instinct that set Miguel’s nerves on fire. He pressed forward, finally coming to the collider door. The transparent glass made it clear that Y/N was already on guard, speaking to both Mileses. Her voice grew suddenly sharp, almost irritated, and both boys jumped. Miguel would refuse to admit to anyone just how her commanding tone made him stand stiff. And how sweetly the scent of her blood hung in the air! Better than any wine or sweet or divine treat. How could he have been so oblivious before? It wasn’t like he needed blood for food, or anything, but… Indulgence was his new favourite word. Miguel’s hand hovered over the doorknob. He knew if he didn’t manage to snag Y/N this time, she’d run off to Lord knows where and dance right out of Miguel’s reach until it was too late. Somewhere, in the back of Miguel’s mind, he knew this would’ve been made easier if he’d just brought backup. Then, Jessica or Ben could catch Miles while Miguel got Y/N. But then again, he’d have to explain why he was ready to full-body tackle and make out with someone who, two days prior, he was hardly able to share a room with. So maybe he’d just have to wing it.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The lab was quiet.

P. Miles apparently carried quite the potent fear factor. Civilians scattered when they saw him, leaving the collider open for use. Miles helped carry Y/N, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he slung across Alchemax. There was a terse feeling in the air. Y/N, half dead and feeling like the grave, knew somewhere along the line, something was going to happen. Life was never so easy as to just hand the three a perfectly functional collider. But P. Miles got to work booting the collider up, and as he stood off by himself, Y/N had a moment of reprieve. Y/N stood yet still, but she slumped against one of the monitors, pressing a hand to her bandages. They were soaked through, the throbbing pain inching back now that the second dose of adrenaline was dying down. Miles stood next to her, eyes switching from his variant to Y/N, back and forth, back and forth. It was almost dizzying to even watch. The collider was slow to start, and it was almost nerve wracking. The slow, bubbling light was bright, but it would take a few spare minutes that the three didn’t have.

P. Miles was off in a world of his own, but as Miles’s head bobbed back and forth between the two, Y/N gave an almost pained laugh.

“You’re gonna pull something if you keep that up,” She teased, taking a painfully deep breath before resting her hands behind her on the console. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.” Y/N watched him for a second. If it weren’t for the mask, then her frown would’ve been obvious. “It’s jarring, isn’t it?” She glanced back over to P. Miles. “Seeing a version of yourself.” “I mean, it would be for anyone, right?” Miles gave an awkward laugh. “Well…still. You’re taking it well.” Y/N hummed. “Especially for being thrown into all of this so suddenly.” “Well, I-” And suddenly, the two froze. There was a distinct feeling creeping up Y/N’s spine. Her spider sense didn’t usually have a slow build, not like this, but every muscle was tense. It was like a violin sting, the bow crawling across every nerve at a snail’s pace. Miles went stiff next to her, uncrossing his arms and glancing over his shoulder. P. Miles gave the two a confused glance from the sudden shift. “He’s here,” Y/N tilted her head back, knocking against the monitor with a laboured breath. Miles helped her get up as P. Miles went on his metaphorical haunches, gauntlet up and mask on. The room felt like it was spinning, a constant swirling camera angle around the three. Y/N set her hands on Miles’ shoulder. “You. Collider. Now. “ “Wh-?” Before Miles could finish, P. Miles started yanking him by the scruff towards the collider. The spider struggled against the Prowler’s grip. “Wait! No, we aren’t leaving you!” Miles looked almost irritated, as though the idea was genuinely disgusting to him. “Miles,” Y/N ignored her Miles, turning to the Prowler. “Get him through the collider at any cost.” P. Miles nodded firmly. He was a good soldier, but Miles broke out of his grip. “No! We can fight Miguel together. I mean, we’ve got me, and me but cooler! And you’ve been Spider-Woman for years-” “I’m injured, Miles.” Y/N’s tone took on an almost uncharacteristic stern note. “Dead weight. Miguel will be focused on me. My capture is inevitable. Yours doesn’t have to be.” Miles looked panicked, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “But what’ll happen to you? I’m not going to leave you behind. Spider-Man-” “Being Spider-Man is about sacrifice, Miles. And right now, this is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” The tension across Y/N’s nerved climbed to a fever pitch, and Y/N could see Miles’ face contort in fear. She knew what that look meant-Miguel was within Miles’ line of sight. Probably just past the door, tall and ominous. But Y/N shuffled in front of Miles to block Miguel off, to stop him from psyching out Miles, and to maintain eye contact. Her brows furrowed. “Miles-” “No.” Miles tired growing steely, trying to take the same commanding tone Y/N had. But Y/N felt everything spike. “Miles!” She snapped, louder than she meant to. “I am not going to bicker with you!”

Y/N’s voice was harsh, loud enough to echo a little bit. Angry, most certainly. Even P. Miles stoof stiff at rapt attention. “You have a choice,” Y/N pressed, despite the lingering guilt from the moment of fear on Miles’ face. “Me, or your father. And we all know what the answer is to that one.” The room was silent, save for the sound of the whirring collider. The lab door opened, and instantly, everything that was set off from Y/N’s spider sense went deathly silent. It was like her body was shutting down from fear and pain. Strong, almost silent steps drew closer, and Y/N let out a sigh. “Go, Miles. Be a better Spider-Man than the rest of us ever were.” Miles looked like he was forced to swallow hot coals. But with another tug from P. Miles, he began stumbling backwards. Y/N felt like there was still glass shards in her stomach, rolling around and cutting up her guts like a rock tumbler. Everything screamed for her to freeze, run, anything but what she was going to do.

But being Spider-Woman was all about sacrifices.

Y/N steeled her nerves and turned, a hateful glare scrawled across her face. Miguel was right behind her, breathing hard like he was huffing in the air she exhaled. If she took even the barest step forward, then she’d be buried into Miguel’s chest. Closer than she wanted to be. But even then, Y/N could smell mahogany and whiskey and sweat, something rich that seemed to be right up Miguel’s alley. He had his eyes glued to Y/N as though both Mileses weren’t right behind her, trying to clamber into the collider. Like she was the only thing in the world. It would be flattering, if the situation wasn’t so damn scary.

“Mi alma ♱ ,” Miguel whispered, reverent like Y/N was a god. “You were hard to track down.” “I fucking hope so.” She hissed, clicking her tongue. “I hope I gave Lyla a run for her money.” “Mm. That you did.” Miguel’s eyes flickered down a bit, taking in the sight of Y/N’s injuries. Slowly, he tried raising a finger up to touch at the bandages, but Y/N was quicker and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He didn’t so much as jolt, instead putting his eyes right back on Y/N’s face. “Don’t touch me.” “If anything, you’re the one touching me.” Miguel snarked, a grin beginning to sneak onto his face. The banter was clearly something he enjoyed, seeing Y/N as nothing but a defiant pet. “And don’t get smart with me, asshole.” “All these rules…but as you wish, chiquita ♱ .” Y/N took a pissed-off breath, sucking on her teeth. But as she was about to say something back, there was the sudden feeling of webs around her waist. They hurt, but the immediate confusion triumphed over the pain. Who was webbing her? What was going on?

“Sorry, man! But I take care of my own!”

Miles’ sudden defiant yell made both older Spiders jump. Before Y/N could say anything, she was abruptly yanked back towards the collider. P. Miles laughed from the sudden vision of Y/N getting pulled back like a dog on a leash. But the small victory was minute, because Miguel’s face immediately contorted into rage. He bolted across the floor, reaching an arm out to web Miles’ arm. Miles’ web broke off, and for a moment, Y/N was in free-fall. But she could see Miguel’s brain working, the cogs working in a way they hadn’t in days. His eyes were on the kids, realising that while they were around, he’d never have Y/N freely. He’d always have to fight, and that meant the kids were in danger. That phrase played in Y/N’s head on loop. The kids were in danger. The kids were in danger. She had to swallow, recalibrate in mid-air.

Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. Being Spider-Man was sacrifice.

And in the midst of the free-fall, Y/N did the one thing she could think of to distract Miguel.

She reached out, and she kissed him.

The kiss was something she wished she’d never have to do. And she hated to admit just how nice it was. She could taste a balm on his lips, the faint taste of coffee. Soft. And she hated how it made her gut dissolve into butterflies, layered with atomic vomit. Bile pooled into her throat, but she could hear the collider shutting down, and she knew. It was over. One way or another, it was over.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement.

The kiss was by no means perfect. It was forceful, rushed, harsh, with Y/N’s nails digging into his shoulder to try and hang on. Her lips tasted of blood and were scabbed over from how often she bit them. Miguel could see Miles (both of them) in the corner of his eye. 1610 Miles struggled against his variant’s grip, being dragged into the collider against his will. But Miguel couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d fantasised about this moment for what felt like forever. How close she was. The smell of her sweat, the feel of her suit, her hands clutching his biceps. If this was Hell, then Miguel would willingly clip his wings to stay in Y/N’s arms.

Even in the freefall, Miguel found himself reaching out to cling at Y/N. She gasped from the clutch of his hands, and Miguel had to actively resist the urge to shove his tongue into her mouth like some unruly, horny teenager. For the first time in what was probably years, he had butterflies in his stomach. Love. Actual, true love. His eyes were wide, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was what blushing schoolgirls felt like. Giggling at the idea of their crushes looking their way, doodling hearts in their journals. That’s what Miguel felt like. A grown man, reduced to mush at a single kiss. It was ridiculous, humiliating…but it felt so good.

Miguel slammed into the floor of the collider room, all air sucked out of his body. For a brief moment, he simultaneously came to and was dazed. He realised both Miles were nowhere to be found, and Y/N had slammed into him. She let out a pained cry, pending over against the floor to clutch at her stomach. But as soon as her feet hit the ground and she wasn’t in immediate pain, Y/N pried herself away from Miguel like he’d burned her. And his heart ached. She was leaving him, and he’d be left with nothing but a wounded soul and back pain to return with. And the memory of that kiss. That kiss. It was devastating. Holy. No, Miguel wouldn’t let that go. He couldn’t. He knew he was gone, his mind lost somewhere between affection and obsession. Once his vision cleared and he saw Y/N stumbling to the collider, trying to climb up the walls without opening her wounds again, Miguel felt a certainty steel him. Y/N was going nowhere. Nowhere that he wouldn’t follow, that he wouldn’t tear apart trying to find her in. Miguel shot up, hands reaching out. A neon web came, and partially Miguel wondered if it had a soul of it’s own, an extension of his own desperation. It wrapped around Y/N’s waist, and she fell from the wall with a yelp. She slammed back down onto the floor and there was a sob. And Miguel didn’t want to hurt her. No, he never did. But he couldn’t let her run anymore.

He yanked Y/N towards him, groaning from the ache in his back before walking over to her. She was struggling in the web, arms bound as she flopped like a fish out of water. Her breathing was hard and angry, frustrated grunts ringing out in the collider room as the machine slowly started to wind down. She looked up at those chromatic spots, fear and exhaustion reading on her face in real time as her only escape shut in on itself. Miguel looked down at her, hands on his hips. And Miguel wanted to say something witty. Something like ‘I didn’t want to do this’ or ‘you did this to yourself’. But Y/N just seemed…defeated. Sad. Her eyes were to the floor, refusing to meet Miguel in any way. Just like before, her last way of keeping her pride was to deny Miguel. But she would deny him no more. And all Miguel could do was crouch down, gently rolling Y/N onto her back. There was a wheeze and Y/N shut her eyes. But Miguel could see tears welling, pooling down her cheeks with shame. And Miguel didn’t necessarily like making her cry. Something in the back of his mind told him he should be disgusted, ashamed of himself, beating himself up for making her cry. But she was so pretty. Stunning, even when she was crying and laying there, blood seeping into her suit. A gorgeous red that suited her like nothing else. How would she be in a red dress, ruby jewellery, red makeup. Even against the orange of his webs, she was beautiful. Oh, who was Miguel kidding? She’d look beautiful in anything. A goddess, bathed in the light of day and the stars of night.

Miguel put a hand against Y/N’s cheek, stroking it with his knuckles. She just sniffed, eyes still closed. Miguel’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and…what would be so wrong with it? She was the one that kissed him earlier. Whatever reasoning didn’t matter. If anything, it was his turn. A kiss for a kiss. And so, Miguel leaned down and pressed his lips to hers once more. And this time, despite her whimper, despite her recoil, Miguel felt this was a true kiss. Something earnest, of his own volition. It meant so much, completely overwhelming Miguel’s senses. He could even faintly taste the spearmint of Y/N’s toothpaste, this time. But he felt her flinch, and he pulled away just barely enough that his lips hovered over her. His breath washed over hers as he glanced up to her eyes. And this time, she was staring. Pure hatred was painted over her face, seething just under her skin, and Miguel sighed. “Do you really hate me that much?” He whispered. “More than anything,” Y/N hissed.

And Miguel sighed. Y/N was proud. He’d always loved that about her, but now it was just an issue. But it was nothing that time couldn’t fix. He gently, slowly, reverently picked up Y/N in his arms, like the bride she’d be one day. She squirmed, but her injuries left her immobile. A day of ignoring grievous injuries save for some faulty bandages meant she was left defenceless. And for once, Miguel was glad. Did he delight in her pain? No. Did he feel she deserved it? Maybe. But right now, she was in his arms and unable to run for the last time.

And that. That was Miguel’s reward.

♱ : my soul, honey

╰･ ⨯・ ⨯・ @ishqani ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @pix-stuff ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @localdepressedvampire ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @cantchoosejust1 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @tired-writer04 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @neteyamsbulletwound ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @not-neverland06 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @nervousd ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @whatsmylife

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #୨♡୧ gothic updates #spider man 2099 #spider-man 2099

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lustrousbratz · 3 months

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How do I truly become a pink Pilates princess on a budget?

Pink Pilates Princess 101

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When I think of a pink pilates princess, I think of a girly person that romanticized their life in terms of wellness! a lot of people find the phrase annoying but i think it’s fun and cute! Here’s some things you can do to feel more like a pink pilates princess 💞

pic credit: all 3 pics from me posted on my pinterest @ nallyssajones

1. Doing pilates!

There’s mat pilates (only need a mat) and reformer pilates (using a reformer machine). Going to classes multiple times a week can be a tad expensive, so an alternative would be:

A) Signing up for paid subscriptions that have detailed classes for e.g; Alo moves, Pilates anytime, glo etc.

B) Following videos from youtubers that do mat pilates. My fave channels are; Move with Nicole, Sanne Vloet, Dansique fitness (she mostly does hitt pilates videos)

* Yoga is another amazing way to get movement in and feel connected to your body and spirit.

* Go on a hot girl walk! Going on mini walks around your neighborhood or even your house allows you to get some steps in daily.

2. Eating well!

pic credit: my pics posted on my pinterest @nallyssajones

This is different for everyone but here are some ideas that you can add to your diet;

- Drinking green juice

- Try out yogurt bowls! It's my favourite breakfast food because it's easy to make and can be very nutritious depending on what I put into it. I like to add greek yogurt, a nice granola, matcha powder, frozen and fresh berries, pomegranate, ground flax and almonds🫐🍓

- Increasing protein intake. A lot of people have tried to eat 1 g per each lb that they weigh daily and have felt really good. My fellow anemic girlies, please increase your protein intake if you can!

- Taking your vitamins/supplements! get a blood test done to see what you’re deficient in and research supplements that might be helpful for you personally.

3. Finding cute workout+lounge sets

(pic credit: from @ lyssithadoll on ig and twitter)

Working out and going out in cute loungewear and workout sets can make you feel really nice and girly! I like to thrift nice quality brands like lululemon or even purchase specific pieces from depop and poshmark! Amazon is a good place to find sets as well but I would recommend buying high quality secondhand pieces💞 Some good brands to look out for are lululemon, alo yoga, halara and girlfriend collective.

4. Get cute exercise equipment

pic credit: my picture posted on my pinterest and ig @ nallyssajones

Get pink workout equipment if you’d like! Marshalls, dollarama, and amazon sell workout equipment that you can get for $5-$20! I got the pink fila mat in the pic above from marshalls for $19.99:) Here are some equipment ideas:

- yoga mat

- yoga strap

- wrist/ankle weights

- 5 lbs dumbbells

- gym bag

*these things aren’t needed btw! just ideas if you’d like to have more equipment.

5. Practice self care

You can do whatever self care that you'd like but here are some examples that you can incorporate into your life:

- Take a relaxing bath (the book "ritual baths" has amazing bath ideas

- Engage in your favourite hobbies (sports, reading, watching a tv show etc.)

- Spend time with your loved ones

- Take care of your skin and have a routine down. You do not need 15 products but even adding a serum or a spot treatment to your routine can improve your skin!

***************************************************************************************************

I hope that you liked this post! This is all for fun and anyone can be a pink pilates princess 🧚🏾💞

#my pictures #my post #pink pilates princess #answered #girly girl #self care #wellness #prettygirlmission #my blog post #pink text

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a-rat-who-writes · 9 months

Text

Cove's Alphabet NSFW

This includes NSFW ideas of what Cove Holden is like during sex or after, please do not read if you are under the age of 18 <3 (Written by Rat #2) (added a few things since last posted)

A- Aftercare (What are they like): Very gentle, loves to pamper the other person, and greatly appreciates it when their partner gives them aftercare too, even if it is a simple spooning cuddle session or if it is bathing the other. He often tends to hold you close to his chest, threading his fingers through your hair as your breathing regulates, and gives you gentle forehead kisses.

B- Body Part (Their favorite of their own and yours): His favorite is his arms because he is confident in his strength when it comes to picking you up. He loves your legs, specifically your thighs, because they are a nice size for him to lay his head against when the two of you are relaxing or after everything is said and done.

C- Cum / Clothes After (Where they do it): He often pulls out if he doesn’t use a condom and cums purposefully on their stomach, their legs, or on a towel if available. After everything is said and done, he prefers to put on his underwear and shorts, lending you his shirt if it is oversized on you. He doesn’t mind if you have any clothes on after or even during the session, but he isn’t against you putting any or all of your clothes back on after. He purposely aims to keep you as comfortable as possible.

D- Dirty Secret (A dirty secret or a guilty pleasure during sex): He won’t ever admit it, but he secretly likes it when you talk dirty to him in public spaces when no one is paying attention or when anyone can’t hear. He also loves it when you give him neck kisses in public, which makes him instantly go red, stuttering out the ass.

E- Experience (How experienced are they): You both got together when he was 17 and you were 16. (For the sake of things, you can swap the ages if your birthday comes before his, which is November 2nd.) He previously had one girlfriend when he was in middle school, but it never went anywhere because he secretly had eyes for you the whole time and was too scared to admit it. You were the first person he was ever intimate with, which also allowed you to teach him things, though he had already researched a bit before doing anything with you. The first time you both ever did anything he was absolutely flustered out of his mind, stuttering the whole time and making sure you felt good as if he would die on the spot if you didn't.

F- Favorite Position: If it wasn’t obvious, he wasn’t very skilled in knowing about many different positions and how to properly do them, so he typically has you both in missionary. He loves it when you ride him, though because he gets a wonderful angle of you and he loves watching the way he's able to make you feel.

G- Goofy (Are they serious at the moment, goofy, nervous, etc.): Often he gets a bit carried away at the moment before realizing what he does, causing him to get flustered and making him ask, "Does this feel okay?". "Oh god, I didn’t hurt you, did I?" He tends to laugh a tiny bit whenever you do something more direct or dominant, such as wrapping your legs around his waist making him go silent for a moment before continuing.

H- Horny (How horny do they typically get and what is their desire to do things): Often, when he is off visiting his mom and you aren’t with him. at least one of the nights he will jerk off at the thought of you under him or you whispering in his ear. Something he will never admit is that one time when he called you at his mom's, he was touching himself and quickly ended the call before he finished. Something that makes him get lightheaded is when you drag your tongue along his neck or collarbone. (Bonus points if you kiss him after and where your tongue stopped, there is a trail of saliva dripping down the side).

I- Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantically, do they touch a lot, sensual?): He often doesn’t know what to do with himself physically because he gets very nervous and second-guesses himself, leaving you to help him figure out where to touch. After your third time having sex, he has the things that make you moan the loudest burned into his brain, making him instantly do whatever that is.

J- (Jack off, how often do they?): He wasn’t really one to touch himself before your relationship because he always thought it was disrespectful to think about you that way without knowing you also reciprocated the feeling. After you got together, he did it about once a week.

K- Kink (One or more of their kinks): He has a HUGE praise kink since he is a bit nervous. He loves hearing how good he makes you feel, and that is often almost enough for him to cum on the spot without you even touching him. He dislikes the thought of you being tied up or blindfolded, but he won’t object to it if you suggest he is.

L- Location (Favorite place to do it; where is it most often?): While living with his dad, he ALWAYS prefers to do it in his bedroom or your bedroom, but on the off chance that absolutely no one is around, he might do it on a kitchen table, a counter, or a couch. When he is living on his own, he will do it anywhere in his own place: kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, living room, etc. Unless you beg him to do it in a public restroom, he always strays away from doing it somewhere in public.

M- Motivation (What turns them on): He instantly gets weak in the knees when you breathe along his neck or give him gentle kisses along his collarbone. He likes it when you are more direct in the beginning, such as by pushing him against a wall or whispering dirty things in his ear because it reassures him fully that you do want him.

N- NO (What is off-limits, or something they would not do during sex?): Choking: He WILL NOT purposely choke you unless you specifically guide him where to put his hands and how much pressure to apply. He is also against physically hurting you, like spanking. Despite this, he will toss you on the bed if you were being a tease to him earlier in the day.

O- Oral (How good are they? Do they prefer receiving or giving): He definitely likes it when you give him handjobs, blowjobs, etc. More often than not, though, he enjoys eating you out when you’re pressed against a wall. He likes watching how your legs give out with the way he flattens his tongue against you. Probably it is a 65:35 ratio of him eating you out and you giving him either of the jobs.

P- Pace/Physical (Are they fast and rough? How quickly? Do they like to bruise or give hickeys?) Since you are the first person he has ever been intimate with, he often finishes really quickly. He loves it when you give him hickeys anywhere on his body, but he purposely gives you hickeys on the lower part of your neck, where no one can see. (It’s like your little secret with him.)

Q- Quickie (How often and their opinions on this over proper sex): He definitely prefers proper sex in the bedroom or somewhere more comfortable where he can take his time and really make sure you’re satisfied, but if you request to do a quickie, he often won’t turn you down.

R- Risk (Are they willing to do it with others around?): When it was earlier in your guy’s relationship, he was 100% against doing it when his dad or your friends could hear, but over time, as you guys learn about each other's bodies, he will do quickies in another room quietly. Later, when you guys are alone, he will give you what you deserve.

S- Stamina (How many rounds and how long are the rounds): He is pretty average when it comes to stamina, usually 2 or 3 rounds, unless you eg him on for another or if you edge him into another.

T- Toy (Do they own some or use it on themselves or their partner): He isn’t the biggest fan of toys, and he would prefer to be touched by you or to touch you. If you request toys, he isn’t against using them on you, but again, he doesn’t like using them on himself unless he is alone and you can’t satisfy him yourself.

U- Unfair (How much they like to tease or get teased): He won’t ever admit it, but he does love it when you tease him. He finds it super attractive when you know the little things that turn him on. Only when you begin teasing him will he lightly tease you back, but it often blows up in his face with you teasing him even more.

V- Volume (How loud are they and what sounds do they make): When there aren't any risk factors, he will get very loud, whining, and breathy groaning. When he gets carried away, he often cries out, repeating your name multiple times. He absolutely loves hearing your voice, so he aims to make you feel as good as he can. (Bonus points if you say his name when you finish, which often makes him cum on the spot regardless if you are touching him.)

W- Whispering (Do they like to keep you quiet or themselves or go all out): He often is quiet during a quickie, where he only grunts and gives quiet praises such as "Yeah" or "Just like that". When it is you guys alone, I’ve said it multiple times, he gets very loud and is a little puppy dog for you, whining and gasping for breath.

X- X-Rated (Do they watch porn to get off, or watch movies while you do it?): When he hasn’t seen you in a while, he will listen to audio that sounds similar to your voice, but he doesn’t often watch porn. When having sex, he will often put on some sort of low sound in the background, so it muffles the sound of your guy's voice from outside the room. Sometimes, when you go on date nights in the house, he will put on an X-rated movie to get you two going.

Y- Yearning (How much do they do it with you?): He generally can go 1-2 weeks without any sexual touching, but after that, he craves you. He will regularly have sex with you 1-3 times a week, with the occasional quickie thrown in the mix.

Z- Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep?): He often gets flooded with emotions before, during, and even after everything is all said and done, so he gets tired very easily, which leaves you to give him aftercare. He will make sure, though, that after every session he reassures you of how well you did or gives you some sort of pampering before resting. This is the time when he gives you the most softest kisses in the world and presses his hands against you like you're silk.

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absolutebl · 6 months

Text

I Feel You Linger In the Air

You ready for this?

The quickest of quick thoughts: I loved this show and hated the ending, but not for the reason you think.

This is gonna be one of my big meta beast-sized posts, skip to the end for the final review.

Some Historical Context for I Feel You Linger In The Air - Thailand 1925-1932

I love history and so here's some info that any Thai watcher would likely know, but the rest of us might not... ready?

The Historical Stage:

Burma (now Myanmar) to the west is occupied by the British.

The French hold Vietnam to the east.

Everyone is bickering over what would become Cambodia & Laos.

China occasionally gets involved from the North (also, lots of immigrants from China at this time accounting for a large percentage of the merchant/middle class)

Eventually, Japan would invade during WWII.

In part, The Kingdom of Siam was kept a "neutral" party because none of the surrounding colonial powers wanted to risk offending any of the other players in the area.

Siam re-negotiated sovereignty in 1920 (from USA) and in 1925 (from France & Britain). But during the time of this show (late 1929) it was back to it's customary type-rope balancing act of extreme diplomacy with the allied western colonial powers that surrounded it.

Recognizing that Thailand was never colonized (although it was invaded), it's boarders were constantly nibbled at and it was "ambassador-occupied" off and on by westerners whose military backing and exploitive business concerns simply outmatched the monarchy, especially in the technology department (as well as by reputation on the global stage at the time).

In other words, the farang in this show (James & Robert) were always gonna be both the baddies and the power players of the narrative. (Farang is the Thai word for non-Thai's of European descent, the word means guava.)

The king of Siam at the time (Vajiravudh AKA Rama VI) was initially somewhat popular but also regarded as overly extravagant since Siam had been hit by a major postwar recession in 1919. It should also be noted that King Vajiravudh had no son because he was most likely gay (which at the time did not much concern the Siamese popular opinion, except that it undermined the stability of the monarchy leaving it without an heir).

He "died suddenly" in 1925 (age 44) with the monarchy weakened and succession handed off to his younger brother.

In 1932 a small circle of the rising bourgeoisie (all of whom had studied in Europe, mostly Paris), supported by some military, seized power from the monarchy in a practically nonviolent Siamese Revolution installing a constitutional monarchy. This is mentioned in IFYLITA in the last few episodes but did not (apparently) appear in the original novel.

Siam would then go through:

dictatorship,

WWII,

Japanese invasion,

Allied occupation,

democratic elections,

military junta,

the Indochina wars,

communist insurgency,

more democracy and popularization movements,

multiple coups,

more junta,

more monarchy,

eventually leading us to the somewhat chaotic insanity of Thai politics we have today. (Which is, frankly, a mix of monarchy, junta, democracy, egocentric popularism, and bribery.)

The Filming of I Fell You Linger in the Air

The director if this show, Tee Bundit (Hidden Agenda, Step by Step, Lovely Writer, TharnType), has never particularly impressed or offended me as a director. I would have called him simply "workmanlike" in execution: not offensive, serviceable.

So much so that I spent some time hunting for info on IFYLITA's cinematographer (who remains uncredited on MDL) because this one, of all Tee's pantheon, is ultra stylish. It, frankly, felt too good for him.

Specifically, there is a repeated visual motif in intimacy scenes of either Yai or Jom being filmed from behind a screen/drape/curtain making them seem more translucent, like a ghost or spirit. While the other half of the pair is filmed with sharp clarity. In the first half of the series this is more likely to be Yai (an unknown and mysterious element), as the show progresses, it's more likely to be Jom (the person outside of place and time, destined to vanish all together). This cleverly conveys story, tension, and foreshadow (future shadow?)

Occasionally we shift over so they both become obscured and then clear again.

This stylized version of dirty framing and filters is used to foreshadow and then constantly remind us about that Jom slipped (and is slipping) through time and the disconnect that causes to his sense of reality and purpose, and to his burgeoning relationship.

For example, the scene where Yai is drunk and asleep in his bed. The first time Jom is sitting in a chair drawing him. Yai is blurry behind the screen while Jom is solid and sharp.

This filming technique combined with dirty and peekaboo framing is being used to give the watchers the impression of looking at something we maybe shouldn't, like we are being creepy and intruding on their private time. After all, they can see EACH OTHER clearly, it's only us who have the visual impairment.

This gives us a sense of doom and discomfort and slight sensation that we shouldn't be there. We shouldn't be watching. But ALSO that we too are outside of time, filtered by the future.

In other words his sense of displacement is being used to trigger ours visually.

It's all quite clever.

It's both beautiful and atmospheric and discomforting and touch stressful. Meaning that it is ALSO a visual vehicle to drive narrative tension. As effective as scary music, perhaps more so in this show (since I personally found the musical motifs and refrains somewhat overused.)

Linguistic corner

The word for reflection and shadow is the same in Thai.

Note on the por/phor/phô honorific in Thai

I have not encountered it before in BL. I am indebted to @embraceyourfandom for the following information;

Phô is a paternal honorific, luang phô is used for respected monks. It basically means father. And is oft seen as male honorific for village elders. It's also used as a male prefix in the names of several occupations like:

พ่อครัว phô khrua (khrúa= kitchen -> chef)

พ่อค้า phô khá (khá= trade -> merchant)

พ่อมด phô mót (mót= person of occult knowledge -> wizard)

พ่อบ้าน phô bân (bân =house -> butler) - most relevant

So, Yai's use is probubly foreshadowing that Jom will be a butler for his house, and is primitively referring to him with this title.

All that said, phô can also be used by a "man who is older/higher on hierarchy to refer to a younger/lower on hierarchy man with intimacy and/or affection."

I think all this has to do with Jom's demonstration of education. Yai figured out early on that one of the reasons Jom doesn't belong and cannot fit in with the servants is that he is more educated than a peasant (of this time period), which for Yai adds up to him being originally from a higher status and possibly wealthy family, especially since Jom speaks English and has travelled (he has a non-northern accent).

There is very little Thai middle class at the beginning of the 1920s since trade is being dominated/dictated by the West, or Chinese merchant operations, and Siam is a monarchy. So for a nationalize Thai citizen educated means military, landed gentry with trade operations (like Yai), royal/political/diplomatic connections, or... none of the above. This changes, especially in the south, throughout this decade (as it did in other parts of the world). So there is a rising bourgeoisie going on in the background but it's not that obvious in Chang Mai at this time.

What Jom's educated lack of status means to Yai is that Jom's family either got wiped out or politically disenfranchised possibly as part of the 1912 attempted coups (or even WWI)? This would be mystifying for Yai because Jom doesn't act like he comes from a military family at all. So his background and status is very confusing for Yai, but Yai does know one thing...

Jom is NOT lower class by the standards of Yai's temporal worldview and existence.

For a young man to be educated and yet entirely alone is very dangerous and suspicious. Also, let's be clear, Jom doesn't look or act like a laborer. He red flags "cultured" all over the place.

Yai is paternalistic and caring towards Jom out the gate because Yai has a big ol'crush but also because he recognizes "his own" is trying to survive while isolated and scared.

Yai wants to rescue Jom. Yai is an ineffectual 20 year old gay intellectual. But poor thing sure tries.

Let's Talk About How I Felt About I Feel You Linger in the Air

The historical aspect was great.

I adore historical romances and we almost never get them in BL. I was always gonna be biased towards this show. (As indeed I am towards Nobleman Ryu's Wedding, Tinted with You, and To Sir With Love.) Aside from some classic Thai BL production issues (less than normal, this is very high production value for Thailand) and my issues around the sound track and repetitive repriens (which frankly were more noticeable because I binged the last half) I have no complaints on that score (heh heh).

The surrounding support cast were all quite good and we even got us some lesbians!

The emotional and narrative tensions were excellent.

Any issues I had with pacing came from focus on characters that didn't interest me, but probubly did interest others. I wasn’t wild or particularly interested in the family drama or the side characters/couples, but they were necessary to make this a fully fleshed story with historical context and to give Yai much needed characterization. Also this use of a ensemble cast is very close to Thailand's lakorn heart, even thought this one had way less scenery chewing ludicrous soapy drama (thank heavens).

I was delighted that external threat, stressors, and conflict drove this plot. That's refreshing in BL.

I have no arguments with the chemistry and kisses and sex scenes were tasteful and lovely, occasionally even heart-wrenching, and it's nice to see Thailand especially use physical intimacy to drive plot, and not the other way around.

I love historicals partly because every tiny touch can have such lingering significance, they're very elegant in their chaste physicality. This show didn't need to move into higher heat, but I'm grateful it did because even that was very well done. Thai BLs can often feel clumsy around intimacy, but not this one.

The final sex scene before Jom and Yai separate forever utilizes the ubiquitous director's-favorite-romantic-moments-flashbacks (required of all Asian romance dramas) but with acceleration and tension driven by the noises of sex, which I've never seen/heard done before. In other words: climax of sex = climax of the romance story, I see what you did there, Tee. Clever. Very clever. Bit on the nose… erm… on the… well you know what I mean.

Like all Thai BLs this wasn’t perfect, but for me this is as close as Thai BL gets to high quality romance and that’s what I want the most from my drama watching experience (if not necessarily my Thai BL experience).

But... and you knew the but was coming didn't you?

I absolutely hated the ending.

It wasn't sad, don't worry, but it also wasn't good.

There is a long drawn out separations sequence and then Jom returns to the present, drowning from a car accident. Jom is "rescued" by an moustachioed iteration of Yai from the distant past (who we met once before) and then wakes in hospital. Some time later, Jom returns to the house in Chang Mai where Yai turns up and they reunite.

The end.

There is a stinger featuring Jom once more hurled back in time, only further, meeting the warrior mustache Yai once more.

Okay, that's all I knew and all I saw.

Confused? So was I.

If this had been a regular time travel romance: Yai would have been the EMT or doctor attending Jom when he woke up and their "this time period" romance would commence. With either shared memories, or not.

Had this been set up for audience comprehension in line with the original novel, we should have had flashbacks from both Present Yai (he's not the same one, as it turns out) and deep-past Moustache Yai interwoven throughout the series. Preferably with some focus on Present Yai's quest for reunion with Present Jom AND Present Yai's own experience with visions and memory of his past lives.

A full explanation of the ending is here. This explanation of the 3 different Yais makes me like our ending more. But I shouldn't need to read Cliff's notes from some random y-novel reading fan on Tumblr to understand what's going on in a series!

There is supposedly a special happening with Jom + Present Yai.

There was unquestionably a failure in adaptation in the finale of this show.

As a fan and watcher, what I actually felt was deeply confused and hurt.

I also felt that this was a disingenuous un-earned throw away happy ending, since I had no idea who this new Present Yai was and no investment in his character. I simply didn't believe he was the same Yai (Bright is too good an actor, he was clearly a different older personality).

So the fact remains that past Yai, our Yai, the 20 year old boy we grew to understand and love, is abandoned in the past to suffer alone for the rest of his life. And THAT is an unhappy ending for one half of my beloved pair. Yes Jom gets a new Yai in the present day, but it's not the same Yai. They have no developed relationship, and Jom is doomed to leave even this new Yai and slide into the past once more. That's barely even happy for now for Jom's character.

As a result of my deep sadness for 20-year-old Yai in particular, I'm not going to be able to rewatch this show. The whole thing was rendered not just confusing but the opposite of comforting by the final 15 minutes. I'm tempted to dock it two whole points - one for the ending and the other for the lack of rewatch potential.

But the first 11.5 eps were SO GOOD.

This is one of the only times where I am actually hoping for a second season, while simultaneously being wary of the screen writing and production team's capacity to give us a satisfying one.

Industry wise? I honestly don't think we can hope too hard for a full season 2. This was an expensive show with flawed/limited distribution and little sponsorship. I don't see how they'll get funding for a second season. Unless we see this show up on like Netflix or Viki, I urge you not to hope too hard and be disappointed.

In all honestly?

I started typing up this blog post thinking Thailand was finally, after 5 years, going to earn another 10/10 from me but I just can't in good conscious give it that. It's been days and I'm still upset about that last episode.

And Now My Quick Pitch Review

I truly loved this time travel romance. IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show should easily have earned a 10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls. Argh. Whatever. 9/10

(source)

This post is also in My Drama List as a review.

#I Fell You Linger in the Air #Thai BL #BL review #I have LOTS of thoughts #Filming analysis #historical context #lanaguage and lingsuitic use #BrightNonkul #YaiJom #Tee Bundit

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