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servicpop · 13 days

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AUGH THE COWBOY FIC WAS SO FUCKING CUTE FHSHJSBUSKFDSKUS I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!! OUUUUUU

I ALREADY HAVE ANOTHER IDEA FOR THEM!!!! so the reader eventually has to get to the next town for a week or two for a series of shows, reader tells Cole where he’ll be and where he’ll preform so Cole can send him a letter if he’d like. Cole obviously send a him letters and reader writes back every time. But one day Cole doesn’t send reader a response and this makes him think Cole lost interest for some reason, so readers moping around and complaining about it to other show girls until Cole shows up at the place their preforming. Reader spots Cole in the crowd and gets excited immediately and the rest of the show he has a wide smile up until he can go out and talk to Cole who has flowers for the reader!!!

THIS CAN END FLUFFY OR SMUTTY OR BOTH IDC I JUST LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH YOU DONT GET IT IM CRAZY RAH :3

-🎱

✶ ﹑��letters & flowersㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : Cole the cowboy x 'showgirl' m!reader

「ㅤSFW & NSFWㅤ」ㅤhalf is sfw and half is nsfw (the nsfw part will be separated and labelled as nsfw!)

✙ NSFW warnings — sub!top cole, dom!bottom/power bottom reader, cole is a virgin, riding, tummy bulge, cole is more vocal than reader, first time

notes ,, go to part one if you haven't read it already! Not proofread !!

You were able to extend your stay at Pinecrest just for a little while, and during your time here you were able to meet so many people and learn so many things about agriculture, farming, taking care of animals, and you even got to meet the local dog, Scout. More importantly, you were able to spend more time with Cole. He took you out almost every night to go sightseeing, taking you to his favourite spots whether it was in the mountains or by the lake. He even taught you how to ride your own horse and named her Taffy after you; since you were so sweet.

Nothing could've replaced those star-filled nights where it was just you and Cole with your horses, Taffy and Spirit, enjoying the cool breeze and endless conversations that seemed to meander. However, you were a busy man, especially while being in the entertainment industry you didn't have time to stick around forever. You could feel your heart sink just a little bit when your manager had announced that another show would be held in the next town for a few weeks. Of course you enjoyed your line of work, you loved performing, loved being on stage and hearing the cheers of others, but you also loved Cole's company. You knew that Cole had a role here at Pinecrest and it would've been selfish of you to ask him to come with you. But, it wasn't like you were going to keep this whole ordeal a secret from him.

"Cole?" Your voice seemed to break the silence; his head turned to look at you, "Yeah?" Cole's voice was warm, and gentle with a hint of ruggedness like honey dripping over gravel, and the way his eyes glittered when they met yours was enough to make your legs weak under the eye contact, causing you to splutter when you decided to speak again. "I– I have to leave tomorrow, I got another show I need to do at the next town," You mumble, shying away from his entrancing gaze. The cogs in his rusty little brain were visibly turning as Cole stared at you blankly with his lips parted like he was trying to comprehend your words. You can tell it finally settled in his mind when his face deflated like a sad puppy, "You're leavin' sugar?" His voice wavers as he stared at you; the fingers that were once tracing the rim of his glass paused, and the bartender took this moment of Cole's sad expression as a cue to refill his cup with root beer.

Oh, you couldn't do this to him. It was almost like kicking an abandoned puppy on the side of the road — totally cruel. You proposed the idea of sending letters and his sad puppy expression lifted just a little. Fishing in your bag you pulled out a flyer of your next show, sliding it across the counter so he could keep a copy for himself, "Here, send them to this address," you tapped the words in bold that say where you were performing. Cole — of course — takes the flyer eagerly, scanning over it to mentally note down the information written on it, "I'll definitely be sendin' you letters honey," Cole smiled with his dimples peeking through. He picked up his glass of beer and placed it between his lips to take a swig before he started blabbering about whatever came to his mind, a common habit of Cole, and you were always keen to listen to his rambles. You could listen to his voice all night long.

Unfortunately, Cole's most dreaded day came when you had to leave for the next town. He most definitely was one of the first people to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch you before you left, pressing a light, lingering kiss on the back of your palm as if you were a prince and he was nothing but a humble knight. After the townspeople waved you off, you and your fellow performers left via the vans. It was approximately a four hour ride, it would've been quicker if you took the train but your manager insisted to go by car for the scenery. You felt yourself missing Cole more than ever, more than anyone else that you've met and being in multiple towns and countries, you've met alot of people.

Your show was held over four days with a one day break in between and a few free days to explore the area — a total of one week and 3 days. As promised, after settling down in the new town, you received letters every morning from Cole. They usually contained heartfelt messages about his day, his animals, what he ate for every meal, some local gossip, and of course expressing how much he missed you. He even signed every letter with small doodles of what you assumed to be him and Scout. Sometimes, he'd even attach small poloroids of himself usually with Taffy and Spirit in the back. Every night when you had time to spare you scavenged your hotel room for a spare piece of paper and a pen, writing back a response with your signature and some doodles that were definitely not as good as Cole's. It's corny, but you kissed the envelop after sealing it before sending it off back to him.

One day after your 2nd show, you stopped receiving letters, and it really messed up your mood. Did Cole lose interest? Had he found someone better than you? Was it because you were away? All these thoughts ran through your mind and you found yourself slumped at the vanity, complaining and whining to the other showgirls on how you felt like he didn't like you anymore. Knowing how supportive the girls are, they always attempted to comfort you, patting your back and reassuring you that he might’ve just not had any time to write back, that he was busy tending the cattle and whatnot. But no matter what they said, that feeling if a pit in your stomach lingered for the 3rd show. Your aura wasn't the same, your energy wasn't the same, you couldn't perform as well as you did the first two shows.

But suddenly, you felt a strange, familiar pair of eyes staring at you from the crowd. Mid dance, your eyes scanned the sea of people and caught on that dear smile that seemed to light up even the darkest of nights. Cole. That stupidly charming cowboy was nestled in between the bodies of others looking at you. Just you with those eyes filled with admiration. Your heart skipped a beat — or multiple — and you felt your lips involuntarily curl up into a smile.

"That's it. That's the smile I love."

With a new-found burst of energy, your limbs no longer felt sluggish and that fake smile was replaced with a genuine one. All of the sudden, the spotlight seemed to focus on you, highlighting the sequins that glittered on your costume and your bright smile. The other showgirls seemed to notice your change in mood and they all shot you small smiles, watching at how your hips swayed with the beat of the music and how your dance lightened up the atmosphere. You couldn't wait to see him.

Once the performance ended and you and the other performers bowed, you immediately ran out into the crowd, searching frantically for Cole but no matter how hard you looked and pushed through the people, you couldn't find Cole. Your feet picked up in speed as you ran outside, looking around to find Cole leaning against a streetlight with a bouquet in his hands. "Hey," You huffed, catching your breath from all that running around. "You were— amazing, sweetheart," Cole smiled, extending his arm out for you to take the bouquet of dasies, "U–uhm, the daises are hand picked if— if you were wonderin'." From the way he was stuttering over his words like a highschool boy confessing to his crush, and how his eyes focused on anything but your face, you could tell he's never given flowers to anyone in such a romantic way. They were beautiful, all thoughtfully placed together to make the bouquet aesthetically pleasing with a white ribbon tied around the stems with a small bow. You took the bouquet before wrapping your arms around Cole in a warm embrace. He didn't expect you to hug him so abruptly but he for sure did not complain, taking only a second to return the hug, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I've never seen you smile so wide before darlin,' were you excited to see me?" Cole chuckled, keeping your face pressed against his cheek as he tangled his fingers through your hair. A small laugh escaped your lips too as you teased back, "Don't get ahead of yourself now."

After catching up a bit on the way back to your hotel, you found out through Cole that one of his cows gave birth to an adorable baby he named 'Choco' from its brown coloured fur. He really did have a quirk in naming animals. Once back, he helped you find a vase for your daisies, filling it up with water before carefully plopping your flowers in them. You flopped onto the bed, bouncing slightly from how plush the mattress was, and Cole followed shortly, laying right beside you. As you laid on the bed with your eyes staring up at the white ceiling, you felt a hand tangle with yours, turning your head to meet Cole's grin and his hands holding yours tightly. "Thanks for coming tonight," You were more than happy that he actually took the time out of his day to come all the way here to watch you perform again, "You know I'd do anythin' for you sugar," He cooed, squishing your cheeks between his fingers before he brought your face to his, giving you a small peck on the lips. You always loved how soft and gentle Cole's lips felt agaisnt yours, and they always had a faint taste of strawberries on them.

"That's too corny,"

"You want corn? We can go to the corn fields sometime if that's what you want"

And that earnt a pillow straight to his face.

One kiss turned into two, maybe three, with you leaning over Cole's body while he was still laying down. His arm snaked over to hook around your waist, pulling you closer to him and tangling his legs with yours. As he presses his body agaisnt yours, you felt him poke at your thigh. He was excited, something that you didn't expect from sweet little Cole. He seemed to notice and it was evident through the blush that creeped up his neck, "S–sorry... it's instinct y'know?" His words stumble over eachother and he brings a hand to his face, hiding behind the comfort of his palms as embarrassment ate away at him. It was adorable! This guy being such a flustered mess just from a few kisses and you haven't even done anything that intimate yet.

You reassure him, obviously; you tell him that it's natural and that it's okay to react this way. But then it strikes you. He seemed so inexperienced, so shy about everything. Was Cole a virgin? "I've never done anythin' like this before... I've never felt this way about someone else," His usually loud and confident voice was now reduced to a soft, nervous whisper. He shuffled slightly, pulling you up and onto his lap, his eyes glittered with nervousness and excitement, "D'you think you could show me a thing or two?" Damn. The way he's looking at you with pure love and sincerity made your blood pump faster from how quick your heart was beating. You've been dying for this too, so why not?

You helped him undress before following shortly after, discarding your clothes somewhere in the hotel. He was surprisingly big— like really big. His pretty pink tip was already glistening with pre-cum from the previous kisses and he had a prominent vein that ran down the underside of his cock that was bound to be a sensitive spot for him. Cole was also more built than you expected, he had toned muscles that were most defined in his arms and he had pretty big pecs. They were like pillows, you'd have to convince him to let you sleep on them later. Cole refused to look you in the eyes while you rummaged the beside drawers for lube. You put a generous amount on your palm before placing the bottle down and turning to face Cole, who was trembling like a little mouse.

"Relax," you cooed, wrapping your lubed up hand around his shaft, pumping slowly to coat him. His body physically jerked once he felt the cool substance around his cock, and a low whine slipped from his lips. Cole's breathing became more heavy as you slowly stroked his length, his eyes fluttered with every movement. Once you deemed that to be enough, you slowly moved to hover over his lap and Cole's hands immediately went up to grip your hips for stability. You knew this would hurt; you weren't properly prepared but you didn't care that much. Slowly, you sunk down on Cole's cock, feeling the slight burn as you bit back small whimpers. "You okay sugar? 'Mnot hurtin' you am I?" Cole grunted, his fingers gripping your hips even more, guiding you down his length. He was concerned, yes, but he also couldn't help from twitching inside you.

"I'm fine," you replied with a small huff once you were able to take Cole in fully, relaxing a bit so you could get used to his size. Cole on the other hand was certainly not relaxing. You could almost see the muscles on his arm tense and he had this unfamiliar look in his eyes like he was desperate for something, any sort of movement from you. After awhile of just silence and stillness, Cole's resolve finally caved in, "Oh, please sweetheart, please move. Anythin'! I need to feel you, please," he whined like a little puppy, staring into your eyes as if he was going to die if you didn't give him any sort of relief. But that wasn't any fun now was it?

You leaned down, your hips rolling slightly in accord to your movements, and pressed a honeyed kiss on the outer corner of Cole's lips. That little movement with your hips almost made Cole cum on the spot. "You can't do that t'me," Cole's eyes gleamed over with tears, dampening his eyelashes. All wet and pretty. He swore he'd actually start crying if you didn't move. "Alright, alright, sorry," you apologised but didn't really mean it — he was so adorable begging you just to move. But, you weren't that cruel. A string of 'thank you's poured out of Cole's mouth as you rocked your hips rhymically, grinding down on his cock. His head tilted back against the silk pillows, his brown hair cascading across the pillowcase like flowing water. Cole's lips were slightly parted, and his chest rose and fell intermittently, some breaths short and stuttered, while others were deeper.

"It feels so good," Cole muttered out between pants. His voice was nothing short of a whiny mess mixed with a few moans and grunts. You lifted yourself off of him, almost lifting completely off of him before dropping your hips back down, earning a muffled whimper from you and a loud moan from Cole. He was undoubtedly alot more vocal in expressing his pleasure. His eyes opened with heavy eyelids, as he looked up at you; you could practically see the hearts in his eyes. Cole's gaze flickered down to your tummy and his mind went blank when he saw the small bulge in your stomach, "Oh mercy," he breathed out, his hand moved to touch your stomach, "You're gonna be the death of me if you keep— hah, keep teasin' me like this."

Your mind was just as lost as Cole's with the way his dick was able to reach your prostate so easily. It drove you crazy; his cock angled perfectly to hit it over and over again with each bounce. Your own neglected cock was sliding along Cole's happy trail, the warmth of his body made you twitch everytime you grinded your hips. "I'm— im close, so so so close, please— please let me cum." Beads of sweat rolled down Cole's temples and his forearms flexed, digging his fingertips into your hips hard enough to leave an indent — he was careful not to use his nails, Cole would never want to hurt you. "Im—" Cole sat up from his laying position, enveloping you in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck, needing something to hold onto while he orgasmed. His moans were muffled by your neck as his thigh spasmed faintly while he spilt his seed inside of you, filling you up to the brim. Your own orgasm followed after his, coating his abs with your fluid.

You two sat in the comfort of eachothers arms and the sound of your heavy breathing; your own arms were lazily draped over his shoulders with one hand stroking his hair. "When's your next show?" Cole asked, moving his head off your shoulder to look at you, "The day after tomorrow, but I have rehearsal tomorrow morning," a small pout spreads across Cole's lips as his eyes flicker to loon at your thigh instead. "Do you think you can walk properly tomorrow?" "Oh right..."

Bonus ♡

You winced as you settled down into the chair infront of the vanity. A few of the showgirls walked up to you, noticing that something was off, "You okay honey bun? You seem to be in alot of pain today," one of the girls ask, placing a comforting hand on your back. "He obviously got some action last night with that cowboy guy." "No I did not!" "It's obvious in the way you're limping sweetie."

Cole on the other hand, was still soundly asleep in your hotel bed, curled up with the blanket he stole from you during the night.

a/n ,, Cole oh sweet Cole . To be honest ,, I'm still not used to writing smut . I guess it's because I'm trying my hardest not to make it sound off or weird ,, maybe I'm just immature . The word cock sounds funny to me . Anyways !! I kinda rushed the smut . To be fair my main focus with Cole is how he's an innocent n' sweet guy but ya know ,, nsfw is what gets people going these days

#bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #male x reader #mlm #male x male #servicpop — fics/drabbles #servicpop — ocs #sub character #dom male reader #x bottom male reader #original character #smut #gay #gay fanfiction #oc fluff #oc smut

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artemis32 · 2 months

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yandere superfam drabble i

listen, i have a ton of ideas for the batfam. really, i do. but come on. superfam.

dc masterlist

Thinking about Clark and his family as yanderes.

Individually, they're enough of a headache, but together? Damn.

Clark Kent sees himself as your father. The problem with him as a yandere is, he's genuinely terrifying. I mean, ignoring the fact that this man is literally Superman, he's also incredibly delusional.

I think most people downplay, or forget exactly how strong this man is. He's strong, fast, and so insanely smart. All that being said, there is literally zero chance of you avoiding him, under any circumstances.

The only saving grace in this situation is the fact that he's, like I said, delusional. Not in a 'oh, I know this is kind of wrong, but I can justify it as being right' kind of way. Rather, he wholeheartedly believes he's helping you, doing the best thing for you by allowing his obsession and thoughts of you overtake your life.

You don't even have the luxury of a slow descent into the situation. His mindset regarding you shifted really quickly, and by the time you were clued in on it, you'd already been stolen away to a farm in the middle of nowhere, ripped away from your life without warning.

The only aspect of his mindset that doesn't quite fit in with the delusional yandere archetype is the fact that, if you push the right buttons, he will absolutely fly off the handle. That in itself proves that, no matter how much he insists otherwise, he knows what he's done to you is wrong.

Jon Kent is a carbon copy of his father. He firmly believes that your place in life is with them, as a part of their family. The fact that you weren't born into the family means nothing to him. If you weren't meant to be with them, the your paths would never have crossed.

The only difference between him and Clark is that Jon has no doubt in his mind that what they're doing is okay. Clark is delusional; Jon is deranged. A part of you believes you can't really blame him - he's a child, a product of his environment. If that's what he was taught his whole life, by the people he loved and trusted, then of course he didn't see a problem with it. But the larger part of you still hated him, hated the fact that he saw you as the crazy one, as if his family hadn't abducted you from your crappy Metropolis apartment in the middle of the night.

And the fact that he was a few years younger than you didn't stop him from treating you like a child. Granted, he was insanely strong and fast, but that didn't mean you had to enjoy him manhandling you as easily as his father and brother whenever he thought you were getting too fussy.

Conner Kent, a few years your senior, isn't like Clark or Jon. He's completely aware of what they're doing to you, of how invasive and creepy it is. He just doesn't care.

I'd almost argue that him being fully aware of how wrong it all was might've been creepier than the shared delusion of Clark and Jon, especially since he could stare you dead in the eye, blank faced at the sight of your tears, and tell you in the most monotonous voice you've ever heard that he didn't care about what you wanted.

Besides a few uncanny moments with him, he was mostly pretty cocky and snide, with this keen way of getting under your skin. It's almost as if he revelled in the fact that you knew he knew they were wrong, the fact that he could do something to help you get away from all this, but he just... didn't.

The worst part was, if he hadn't, you know, kidnapped you, you might've liked him. He was easy to like, if you ignored the annoying sarcasm and ever-present smirk, the type of person you might've wanted to be friends with.

Too bad he spoiled all that by being batshit crazy.

Lois Lane, to her credit, was against the idea at first. She acted as the voice of reason in the family. Or, at least, she tried to. But the men in her family were nothing if not determined.

She realised how crazy, how morally wrong it was to rip someone away from their life for what you thought might be best for them. She also realised how terrified you'd be, surrounded by people, beings who were so much stronger than you, able to subdue you with little more than the tip of a pinky finger.

But, in the end, they won her over. The idea of someone to take care of, someone normal in the family - someone like her, and a daughter to boot - the offer was too sweet to pass up on. She's an odd mix of mindsets, a point somewhere between Clark's delusion and Conner's unwavering sanity, and that makes her scarier than the rest of them, somehow.

The fact that she knows it's wrong, but is able to convince herself it's for your own good - that's terrifying.

Though, she is great in the motherly role, acting as neutral ground for whenever one of the others overwhelm you past what you can reasonably handle. She seems to have a sixth sense for your threshold too, appearing as if out of thin air whenever you're close to snapping at one of the three men who are always in your hair.

Out of all four of them, you'd admit to liking her the most, though admittedly, it's for a selfish reason. She's the easiest person to slip by - the rest of them have super sight and hearing, and even if you could slip away, they'd catch up to you in a few seconds flat. Lois, as much as you may dislike her, was only human. Yes, she had this weird sense for when you'd try to pull something, but for the most part, you had more leeway with her than anyone else.

As a result, you stuck to her like glue, which lead to Jon whining that you were playing favourites. Jon, you could understand. He was a child, one who was used to getting his way most of the time. Clark, however, also tended to develop a strangely endearing pout whenever you ignored him, one that had even Lois caving and forcing you to spend time with someone other than her.

One thing all of them had in common was the fact that they were so damn clingy. They seemed magnetically drawn to you, hanging off of you like children at all hours of the day. It was infuriating, constantly having your personal space intruded upon.

Even at night, when you tried to sleep, you'd wake to find Conner or Jon sliding in beside you, or, even worse, you'd mysteriously wake up in Clark and Lois' bed the next morning. That always made you uncomfortable - how had they managed to move you several rooms down without you once waking up?

Your only saving grace was that all four had their own lives outside of the household, often leaving for work or school, or even patrols, so you very rarely had to deal with all four at the same time. Your favourite days were the ones when it was just you and Lois. You could slip away in the morning, right after Jon caught the bus to school, and spend the entire day away from the prison-like household.

They at least trusted you enough to let you roam around the farm freely. Well, not trusted, exactly. More like, they knew you couldn't get far before one of them caught up to you.

The perks of living in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

On the bright side, they acted as if the entire household revolved around you. You could decide what everyone ate for breakfast and dinner, you could decide the 'family activity' of the week. They tended to give in to what you wanted pretty easily, on the condition that you gave them something in return, whether it be attention, affection, or some crudely handmade gift that wasn't worth much.

Despite their joyful front though, they could all be terrifying, especially Clark. You'd learnt that the hard way when they'd first taken you. One of them snapping usually only happened if you put yourself in harm's way, but there were other circumstances where they (Clark), felt punishment was warranted.

You'd once made the mistake of making genuinely hurting Lois (or, her feelings at least), to the point of making her cry. Once, and never again.

But since then, you'd learnt how to play your cards, how to skate by in the Kent household with only a small dose of anxiety. You'd managed to avoid being metaphorically (and literally) shackled to the bed, like when you'd first arrived. Time had made things easier - time, and getting to know them.

As much as you were loathed to admit it, getting to know them had made it easier to handle them. It'd been a hard pill to swallow originally, but as the months went by, you'd had to accept the fact that you weren't going anywhere, and it was better to adapt to the situation than remain sullen and miserable for the rest of your life.

They seemed to believe you were slowly but surely coming around to the idea of being a part of their family. You definitely acted like it. But deep down, you were biding your time, waiting, planning for the perfect moment.

You'd leave, run and hide, go to furthest corner of the earth to get away from them. You always thought you would, and one day, you did.

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damianwaynerocks · 3 months

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the funniest thing about the batfamily is that they're so smart but they all have zero introspection skills.

the batfamily is smart. so smart. and they deal with the mentally ill population all the time. and most of the time they treat them good! they help them!

i find it absolutely impossible that bruce isn't educated on psychology. there's no way he isn't. no way he hasn't studied psychology, whether it was to understand the joker or any other villains, whether it was to learn how to instill fear, practice for going undercover, hostage negotiation, how to tell the difference between mental health issues and just violent criminals (because he wouldn't know which ones he could talk sense into without understanding why they were doing it), whether it was to learn better methods of interrogation, or even just an interest in how the brain works.

and i guarantee most of the other batkids are too. bruce had to have taught them that so they could learn how to go undercover or how to tell whenever violence is necessary or if you can just talk them down.

dick has a law degree, which means he had to do undergrad. i think it's insane to think that he wouldn't have taken a psychology class. he also was able to understand damian and how to handle him, and he wouldn't be able to do that if he wasn't aware of how his upbringing would've shaped his neural pathways.

tim has a genius level iq. no way he doesn't understand how the brain works. also, he was able to tell that bruce was in a terrible mental state just by observing him as batman, where bruce does everything in his power to hide his emotions. he's also, several times, shown to be one of the only if the not the only batfamily member to understand why jason acts the way he does.

damian likely isn't terribly empathetic to mental health issues. probably a little more now, but not very. but like. he might not be empathetic to it but there's no way he doesn't understand how it works. how the frontal lobe works. how the amygdala works. how to manipulate someone.

stephanie was in college, and just like i said with dick, i find it hard to believe she wouldn't have taken a psychology class.

cass is cass. enough said.

also!! they all have a pretty good relationship with leslia thompkins!! a psychologist!!

all this to say: how on God's green earth do none of them realize they need therapy.

and like i get why. bruce has suppressed his emotions so much that he genuinely think he's fine. dick is too focused on being a support for everyone to worry about himself. jason and stephanie push it all down. cass, and this is not a diss because i love her, would realistically be very emotionally stunted. damian wasn't raised to be empathetic to the mentally ill and even if he was, he's 15. his frontal lobe is so not developed. plus the trauma they've all endured? the training they've had from bruce, who probably wasn't that concerned about teaching them self care and most definitely taught them to put their emotions aside. so like i get it. but also.

they know all this stuff and??? don't for a single second (except for tim that one time) be like "hmmm i could benefit from CBT and EMDR"

except duke.

how is duke the only one who's like "yeah. you guys aren't okay." duke knows. he tries to reason with them and has several times been like "you guys are crazy. why are you chill with this."

which is all to say. i'm convinced that at some point duke is going to try to sit them all down and be like "you guys need therapy. please go to therapy. I'm begging you."

#i know that the whole “duke is the voice of reason” is kinda more fanon than anything bc he has to be crazy too to be a vigilante #but im convinced he's self aware of it #and is like wow #you guys are #so traumatized #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #robin #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin

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writingstoraes · 10 months

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sparks 🎇

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff)

word count: 1.7k, no warnings hehe

notes: once again this is a new idea even though i have a ton of drafts like my mind is a mess so i am not surprised ANYWAY . trying to get out of a writing slump so lmk what u guys think! ALSO apologies for any typos or grammatical errors this is not proofread at all 😆

about: The few of the many times Charles’ heart skipped a beat because of you.

Movies have always portrayed “real” sparks so well. Sometimes it’s a scene where a guy sees the girl for the very first time during a first date and he freezes for a moment, the apparent electricity between two people when their hands almost touch and they panic for a little while, or the moment of suspense before a first kiss and the exhilaration after.

But Charles taught that was exactly what they were - movie scenes. He lingered on the thought that the moments where sparks flew and one’s heart skips a beat, those moments cannot be manufactured in real life. They stay in movies, books, in the arts; where they belong, somewhere where they were fiction.

Not until he experiences it first-hand, not until he meets you, the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand.

He felt it the first time your hands ever touched.

At first, he thought he was going crazy. There was no way he felt a current run through his skin the moment it came in contact with yours, but to this day, it’s a testament he swears on very seriously.

You had been going out for a few weeks, several dates here and there. It was the exact point where you felt comfortable with each other, but only starting to be, hence why there were still evident boundaries present. The two of you were careful to not cross any, especially Charles. He’s cautious on establishing any physical touch, sure, he’s held your waist to guide you through bustling crowds and had slung his arm over your shoulder, but he hasn’t held your hand. At least, not yet.

He had invited you to have dinner on his yacht, set at the perfect time where you can be of witness to the beautiful sunset over the sea. He says the food was nearly done, so he set up two comfortable chairs that gave you just the perfect view of the Monaco skies. The sun was setting and the golden sky formed a beautiful gradient with the blue hue that painted it beforehand.

He turns his head to you, your arm resting on the chair’s handles, a tad bit preoccupied with the view in front of you. He keeps a smile to himself, enjoying the personalized view he had. For some reason, he feels the urge to hold your hand, or at least rest his on top of yours. He was hesitating and second-guessing, lifting his finger once in a while and then putting it back down when he decides not to push through. It didn’t help that there were minimal distance between your chair and his, and so he was fighting the urge to initiate contact and have you flee off.

But his hesitant hand that kept on moving was something you grew to notice, and thanks to your knowledge of many, many romance movies, you assumed it meant he wanted to hold your hand but was too afraid to do it. You shove the thought of doing it first in the back of your head, overthinking that you might be wrong and he in fact did not want to hold your hand.

Maybe it was something in the air, the quiet waves of the ocean, or just the fact that he really really liked you.

He finally lifts his hand so he can reach yours, resting it softly on top of your hand. He lets out a relieved and contented sigh when he feels you ease into his touch. His heart raced faster, like it was screaming for help and begging to be let out of his chest.

As if that was not enough, he feels a current run through his arm and out of his fingertips the moment you grasp his hand and decide to interlock your fingers with his then setting it on top of the chair’s handle. He swears he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and his heart finally exploded out of his chest. He vows he can stand up and jump around out of joy, but he chooses to indulge in the moment and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze instead.

He had met you earlier in the season and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to see him in his element, doing what truly made him happy. That is, if his team does not proceed to ruin the entire weekend for him and his dedicated fans.

He invited you to watch a grand prix, in a track that he felt most comfortable. He was the perfect gentleman whe he extended the invite, letting you know you could always decline if you didn’t feel like going. You were together, in all terms to be considered, but he didn’t want to pressure you into finally making your appearance only because he knew how harsh it could get. He assures you that he will take care of everything and all you needed to do was come.

You were committed to attend the entire weekend, from free practice until the race itself. Even if Charles was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to be there for everything, you only return a smile and tell him you wanted to be, which not surprisingly calmed his nerves.

You knew people were going to stare, fans will take pictures, even the possibility of you making headlines. This was your first paddock appearance as his girlfriend, after all. It was inevitable, so you try to take your mind off of the pressure. Much to your nerves bothering you before you even got on the plane, you had been racking your brain on what to wear. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard or too little.

You finally settle on an outfit and your lips form a small smile as you looked in the mirror. It was nothing extravagant, only a black one-shoulder top and a black high-waisted pants that you paired with a red leather jacket. It’s not like you wanted what you wore to scream Ferrari, but you wanted to add a little touch, at least for Charles.

“What do you think? I chose the red jacket for you,” you turn around to see Charles, seeing as you heard his footsteps earlier and knew he entered the room.

If he was being honest, he had seen you put on the outfit. He witnessed how you cocked your head to the side trying to see if it looks good. He sees the outfits laid on the bed, all with a touch of red, and he could feel butterflies swarm his stomach at the thought of you carefully planning out your outfits to include his team’s colors.

There it was again, the stupid sparks that he’s been getting ever since he met you. He curses himself for being a little non-functional when feels them, but he figures he has to get used to being blown away by everything you did. It feels magnetic, like he’s feeling actual static. You make him feel so much by just doing so little.

He sees you twirling around in front of the mirror, smiling when you finally put on the red leather jacket, looking satisfied.

He stops at his tracks, at least internally, and fails to respond for at least 10 seconds.

“Do you not like it? I can always go change-”

“No,” he says, almost out of voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

Where he was standing, he swears he sees fireworks erupt behind you.

Charles stands on the podium, feeling victorious and ecstatic he had clinched another win for his Formula 1 career. He looks fondly at the sea of crowd cheering for him, waving flags of his own country, Ferrari, and Italy. From where he stood he could see Fred’s big smile and the engineers celebrating, jumping up and down.

The trophies had been awarded and the Monaco national anthem had finally played. He was wearing his Pirelli cap and completely drenched in champagne. He scans the crowd down the podium, hoping to get a glance of you. Earlier, he did tell you you didn’t have to witness the awarding personally should he win, because he didn’t want you to get in between many people and possibly get shoved or pushed. He assumes that you were in the garage, waiting for him, probably with a kiss and a hug.

He leans over the makeshift railing of the stage, eyes still set on possibly sighting you. When he fails to find you, he finally comes down and there he sees you, just near the stairs going up to the podium with teary eyes and a wide smile. There you stood with hands clasped together, in awe of Charles who was standing in front of you.

He feels his heart race yet again, having experienced the first time you ever greeted him after he claims P1 in a race. Even just by looking at you he feels his world shift, like its only goal was to pull him towards you, like the fireworks that took the skies earlier weren’t enough and he was having his own show.

He jogs towards you, exhilirated and filled with adrenaline and pulls you into a tight embrace. His entire body twitches when you plant a soft kiss on his cheek, as if every fiber of his being had turned into putty at your touch. Everytime you engulf him in an embrace, kiss his cheek, or run your hands through his hair, he feels as if he’s inside his car going at least 320 kilometers per hour. He has no clue how you do it, how you possibly make him feel like he’s won a race every time he was with you; as if you and his heart had a binding agreement.

“Congratulations, mon champion du monde,” you say slowly and close to Charles so only he could hear, hoping you didn’t mess up the pronunciation, after having practiced it several times on the plane.

Something tugs at his heartstrings, having been greeted by the knowledge that you sent out his well wishes in French, even though you didn’t speak the language and mentioned you were always scared you were going to say something wrong. But mostly because you called him your world champion, and that just sends him down a spiral.

“Thanks for being here, amour.” he replies, pulling you in again for another hug.

------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: thanks for reading everyone <3 will try to post a 1.4k special soon but firstly thank u so much for all the love hehehe hope u guys r having the nicest day!

#writtenbyrae #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc one shot

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rosewine-5 · 3 months

Text

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (2)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastor’s daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

A.N: reader’s last name is Bennett.

A.N2: Thank you all for the likes & feedback from part one, here’s part 2!

UPDATE: Part 3 is here!

Word count: 1.1k

divider by saradika

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore Billy like the plague. He had a different idea, he would follow you like a lost puppy, never close enough for you to see, but you knew his eyes were on you. Going into town: you knew he was there. Working at the bar: you knew he was there. Even in church: you knew he was there and it drove you crazy. You all were taught to not look behind you during service, eyes forward and towards the pulpit at all times.

You were yearning to catch a glimpse of him, just to know you weren't crazy. However, you couldn't risk getting scolded by your mother for improper behavior. So you sat still, the burning of his eyes on you nagging you the entire time. As you waited for your father to finish saying goodbyes, you heard a voice behind you. “I should’ve known the pastor's daughter could clean up so well,” Billy said, looking you up and down.

“I didn't know the cowboy knew the Lord’s word either.” you responded, looking at him. “We all have our secrets, darling.” He said, a smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth. “So what are yours, Billy?” you asked, leaning on the wall and looking up at him. “I'm not telling mine if you're not telling yours, Ms. Bennet.” He grinned. You peeped inside the door and saw your father still in the middle of a conversation, so you had time. “Alright, I'll let you ask 3 questions about me, and I'll do the same with you, deal?”

“Deal. First question: Have you ever had a drink, and I ain't talking about wine?" Billy asked, to which you nodded in response. "Never. Have you ever taken someone's life?" you asked, noticing a slight twitch in his eyes. "Yes, I killed men before.” he replied, making your blood freeze. You felt your eyes go wide. “Let me guess, it goes against one of the Lord’s rules?” Billy asked, a tone of sarcasm laced in his voice. “Yes, a pretty big one!” You shouted, making him chuckle.

“Don't worry sweet thing, I'd never kill something so pure and innocent as you.” He smirked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I'm not so innocent, murderer.” You snapped, the grin never leaving his face. “Oh really? So you’ve held a gun before?“ Billy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Of course I have!” you answered, making him gasp loudly and putting his hand over his heart in a mocking manner. “I thought you were a proper lady Ms. Bennett! How dare you touch a gun!” he said, adding an exasperated gasp to his sentence, making you laugh.

“Shut your mouth! I know how to use one, I've just never shot one.” You said, seeing him side-eye you. “You poor soul.” you heard him whisper to himself. “So, why do you bother me so much?” you asked, giving him a sharp and challenging look. “You intrigue me, little Bennett. I don't get how you've had such a protected lifestyle.” be answered. “Having a stable life isn't protected.” You said, shrugging. “Yeah? Because I've seen those brothers of yours in the bar, and they have the same rules you do I assume.” said, making you nod.

“Bull. Shit.” he said, chuckling. “You don't even see how deprived you've been of fun because you’ve had your eyes set on heaven the whole time.” Billy said, and then you saw his smile change, his eyes darkening. “Oh. You poor little thing. You don't know what you're missing out on.” He said, making you look at the ground in embarrassment. “Eyes are up here, little girl.” he said, tilting your head up. “So then answer my last question. What do you want from me?” you asked, annoyance laced through your words.

He smirked and then grasped your necklace and tugged it slightly so you were almost nose to nose. “I thought I made my thoughts clear from the start, honey. I want you.” He said, hearing the desire in his tone.

You stepped away from him like he was a raging fire, and yet you stayed close enough to still be within arms reach. You both didn't say a word, you didn't need to. His word rang in your ears. This man was a walking sin, the devil in the form of a man: a very handsome man. His eyes glued to your face, waiting for your next move.

Just like that the word faded away. You were no longer outside the church, you were in your own little paradise. The one that surrounded you when you got lost in his eyes. Your dress softly flows in the wind, yet you don't feel the chill of the breeze. You didn't feel anything actually.

“I want you”

He didn't know how those 3 words and 8 letters affected you, but then again, maybe he did. Did he want to make you get flustered like this? Possibly. Would you slap him if no one else was around? Probably.

At the same time did you think about what he was saying? Definitely!

Before you could give him an answer, he spoke up first. “Don't you wanna live, honey?” Billy asked, giving you that same signature smile. Fuck him and his cowboy casanova ways, God excuse my French. As a matter of fact, fuck his pretty smile. Fuck his beautiful eyes. Fuck his large strong hands and make you lose your words with a simple touch. And fuck yourself for crushing on him.

Before you could answer him, you were happy to see your father walk out with your mother and father in tow. “Thank you Jesus!” you thought. “Ah! Billy. I see you've met my daughter.” He said, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Lovely daughter you've raised, sir. She was just helping me understand the message today, wise girl you have right there.” he said, giving you a kinder smile, but the true intentions remained a secret, one only you two knew.

“Well if you ever want to study the word more, she’ll talk to you about it. Won't you, dove?” he asked, the stern look in his eyes daring you to say “no” along with his palm on your shoulder. “Bringing a man closer to God and Jesus gets you to heaven as you always say.” You said with a nervous smile. Billy, who was now leaning on the wall, gave a knowing look in his eyes. “Closer to heaven” you say, Ms. Bennett?” He asked, a playful edge showing through his words. “Amen to that.” he said, taking your hand and kissing it softly. Before you walked away with your family, he whispered to you one last time. “Now I have a veiled excuse to have you to myself.” And with one last smirk, he walked away from you, leaving you shaken.

Your dad had no idea what he had just done. For a man of God, he seemed to be blind to the works of the blue-eyed devil in front of him.

The man who preached on saving souls from temptation just presented the blue eyed silver tongued serpent with his new Eve.

And the apples were looking riper by the minute.

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Text

At First Sight

Neteyam’s First Rut: Special Episode II

read chapters: one, two, three, four, five

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (18) x Human Reader (18)

Warnings: nsfw, lots of fluff, childhood friend/crush to lovers, masturbation, size difference, first time everything, foreplay, oral sex [f receiving], vibrator usage, consent king nete [you know how I like him]

Word Count: 8k 🧍‍♀️

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for 2000 followers, that’s crazy :’) I love you guys, honestly.

Synopsis: The story of how it all started. Neteyam comes to confess his feelings for you, but accidentally walks in on you using a vibrator.

Intro:

Too young to be put in a Cryo chamber and sent back to Earth, you were raised by the scientists who remain loyal to the na’vi after the war with Quaritch. Despite growing up in a lab, you spent most of your childhood with your friends – Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. You formed all your best childhood memories and milestones alongside them. They taught you the na’vi language, and their way of life. You did your best to keep up with them, although it proved hard in your human body.

They were always faster and stronger, not to mention bigger. Despite being the same age as them they would always tower over you, almost double your height and width. Regardless, you were determined to live the life of a na’vi, even with your tiny, frail body.

Having this exopack was bothersome, constantly getting in your way and needing to be recharged and cleaned. But it allowed you to be closer to your people, to your secret love – Neteyam. His family always saw you as the ‘lab kid’, especially his mother. Neytiri always insisted that you go back to your people when you came around to visit.

Neteyam was always quick to defend you, standing up against his own parents – something that he rarely did. He never made you feel left out, pacing himself to ensure you’d never get left behind, being extra gentle during games and always making sure to carry a backup battery for your exopack. He knew how careless you were in keeping it charged. He would even steal extra of your favourite sweets from the lab when you had your monthly cycle. You’d always had a crush on him since you were kids, but when you both got into your late-teens things became... different.

He grew much, much taller than you, always towering over you. His muscles filled out, becoming more defined as he went through the rites of passages to become a man – to become a warrior. Whilst your chest became fuller, hips wider and waist curvier. At times, you’d catch him staring at you, lingering his gaze on your chest or pelvis, burning holes through your shorts. It’d make butterflies flutter in your stomach, giving you hope that maybe he saw you in the same way that you saw him.

You spent most nights with your hand shoved down your pyjama pants, humping your fingers to your lewd thoughts of Neteyam without his loincloth on. Oh, the things you’d do just to see what he really looked like underneath. You wanted nothing more than for him to be the one touching you, to make you feel good. At times you’d try to be bold, and make a move, holding a single finger or brushing your chest against his thigh. But he never caught on, or so it seemed.

Under the immense pressure of his parents, he couldn’t spend nearly as much time as he used to with you, but you understood and never complained. You filled your time with Kiri, becoming her best friend. She taught you everything about the flora and fauna of Pandora, and made you want to become a healer one day if you could ever get an avatar of your own.

You wanted nothing more. Well, that was a lie. You wanted Neteyam more than anything on Pandora, but you’d go to great lengths to have your own avatar – to be able to become a true na’vi. Norm and Max always teased you about you getting your own avatar when you were old enough, but you never believed them, you knew how expensive they were to create.

You had no other choice but to accept your fate as the human girl who longed for a na’vi boy, and his na’vi way of life.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam felt similarly from the moment he lay eyes on you. He always felt a strong need to protect his tiny, frail human. He hated nothing more than when others picked on you, and made you feel less than all because of how you looked. He never cared about any of that, you were the kindest and most adorable girl he knew. You were a treasure to be cherished – to be protected at all costs.

He knew never to act on his feelings, though. Given the whole different species thing, he quickly accepted his fate as the son of Olo’eyktan who longed for a sky person. He knew it would never be able to work, in any regard. He felt like he’d break you if he touched you. But now that he’s become a man, the desire to touch you has only grown stronger.

The moments between you and him have become tense, and awkward. He’d keep a good distance between the two of you, yet he’d never take his eyes off you, always ensuring your safety. And in those moments – those rare moments – that the two of you were alone, the tension was off the charts. To the point where Neteyam started distancing himself from you even more, picking up more training sessions with his father and going on longer hunting trips.

It hurt you. To see the man you cared for so deeply never make the time to be around you anymore. You often confided in Kiri about this, as she was the only person who knew about your true feelings for him. She always encouraged you to be honest and open with her brother, convincing you that he had similar feelings. Even though you wanted to believe her, you couldn’t bring yourself to because of how distant and cold Neteyam had been.

----

“Is Neteyam coming?” you ask Kiri, watching her hook the mask around her neck.

“No, he’s on a hunting trip with dad. Sorry, y/n.” Kiri purses her lips before taking a swig of air.

“That’s okay. I understand that he’s busy.” you shrug your shoulder, trying to act like it didn’t bother you that he was always caught up with something.

She rests a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that it’s nothing personal, even though she knew it was. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll come around soon, y/n.”

You nod, keeping your gaze fixed on your feet as you both make your way deeper into the lab. Lo’ak and Tuk follow behind Kiri, gearing up with their masks too. Kiri came to see her mom, Grace, and Lo’ak usually just tagged along to bother Max and Norm. Tuk never wants to be left out, following closely behind her siblings everywhere they go.

You were excited, hoping to see Neteyam so you could finally talk to him about how you felt. But he flaked yet again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

“Hey mom.” Kiri hums, climbing on top of her mother’s tank, admiring her floating body.

Lo’ak and Tuk make their way over to Norm and Max, trying to convince them to reveal some top-secret information about what they have in development. “C’mon Norm, don’t be a wuss. Show us!” Lo’ak grins, giving norm a playful shove, moving him a great distance, unaware of his own strength. “...sorry, Norm.”

You find yourself thinking about Neteyam again, watching Norm’s small frame next to Lo’ak, and how you look just like that next to him. Huffing out a sigh, you look around at your friends and realize that you’re alone. Everyone’s got someone, except you. You could walk away, and no one would even notice.

So, you do.

Unable to deny the way you feel, as tears well in your eyes and your chest burns hot, you shuffle away quickly to your room at the end of the hallway in the lab.

Really y/n? Crying again? You scold yourself for being so sensitive.

Neteyam will never want me if I’m this soft. You blink rapidly, clearing the tears from your eyes as you turn the knob on your door.

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even realise you’ve walked into a completely different room. Looking around, you realise that you’re in Trudy’s room, not yours. It’s been untouched since the war; Norm couldn’t bring himself to step foot into her room, much less go through her belongings.

Being here gives you an eerie feeling, right in the pit of your stomach. Just as you were about to turn around and back out, you notice a black, open duffle bag on her bed. Inside it is some sort of object, bright and pink, in some sort of packing with a big red ‘XXX’ on it. It’s hard to miss. As much as you wanted to back out of the room, you find yourself closing the door behind you before making your way over to the bag.

Curiosity got the best of you, making you take it out of the bag to inspect it further. Still brand new in its plastic packaging, the object is slightly bent, with some weird looking rubbery bits that rib around it.

‘Thrusting Rabbit Vibrator – Adult Toy’.

You’ve never seen one in person, only hearing about it on shows you watched that aired in the early 2000’s. It’s... a sex toy – a vibrator to be exact. You flip it over, searching for the instructions.

‘Insert, turn on, and enjoy.’

Seems simple enough. The desire to open it, to know what it feels like grows stronger. You nibble at your bottom lip, trying to talk yourself out of your ludicrous urges. Your heart quickens, thumping violently against your ribcage. Deep down, you know what you’re doing is wrong, invading Trudy’s personal space like this, even worse that she wasn’t here to defend her space.

The sound of a doorknob rattling makes your whole body jolt. You gasp quietly, turning around and hiding the toy behind your back. Norm opens the door, jaw clenched, clearly uncomfortable to be looking in his late girlfriend’s quarters. He scans you up and down, a confused look washing over his face.

“y/n? Why are you in... Trudy’s room?” he asks, not wanting to say her name.

“Sorry. I – I didn’t even realise I came in here. I was going to my room...” you babble nervously, realising that you’ll have to reveal more to make it believable, “...I – uh, felt left out, and I was too caught up in my head. Sorry, Norm. I was about to leave.” you apologize again, knowing this room is off limits.

“It’s alright, kid. Sorry if I sounded upset.” He says, expression softening.

You laugh a little to lighten the mood. “Not a kid anymore, Norm.” you shoot him a smile before shuffling out beside him, walking backwards so he doesn’t see the toy behind your back.

“My bad, y/n.” He closes the door, locking it with his key. He turns around, to see you shuffling away.

“Hey. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Alright?” he projects his voice as you walk swiftly away, heart thumping in your chest.

You quickly shift the toy to your chest as you spin around and raise a hand in the air. “Alright, Norm! Thanks!”

----

You sit on your bed, staring at the bright pink object sitting on your table, already plotting how exactly you’re going to return this thing. It’s going to be difficult, seeing that he locked the door. It would have to involve some sort of conniving plan to steal his keys whilst he’s sleeping, or something. It honestly seemed like too much, for something so... useless to him.

It wouldn’t even matter right? He’s not going to use it... Would he even realize that it’s missing? You wonder, knowing he’ll probably never step foot in that room again.

You won’t lie, a part of you wanted to know what it feels like. Not only that, but this is probably the only time in your existence that you’d have your hands on such a thing. You’d never ever been able to make yourself climax before, even to your lewd thoughts of Neteyam.

Maybe this would do the trick?

It dawns on you that all you’re doing is trying to convince yourself to use the damn thing. You stand up let loose a loud huff, frustrated with yourself. You pace back and forth in your room, burning a line into the floor with your feet, looking back at the stupid little toy every so often.

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Fuck it.” you mumble, rushing over to the table to rip open the packaging.

Finally releasing the toy from its plastic-y restraints, you bring it close to your face to examine it.

“Whoa.” you mutter, looking at all of the little nubs and ridges on the tip of it, whilst the rest of it is like a smooth silicone.

Grabbing the packaging, you fumble with it a bit before flipping it over once again to read the instructions some more.

‘Clean before and after use. Charge before use. Waterproof. Use on clit or insert inside.’

You make your way over to the bathroom and wash it with soap and water before putting it to charge. Meanwhile, you take a quick shower, thinking about Neteyam the entire time to get you in the mood.

----

“Is she upset with me?” Neteyam asks Kiri, concerned that he’s ultimately ruined the friendship.

“No... I don’t know, Nete. Maybe? She can tell that you’re avoiding her at this point. Just. Go and talk to her, okay?” Kiri encourages her brother.

“Talk to her? And say what? I know we are a different species, but I have feelings for you?” he narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah. Actually. Exactly that.” Kiri says, scoffing and nodding her head.

“Really?” Neteyam looks at her with a blank stare.

“Yes, really. Just go.” Kiri pushes him out of the tent. “She didn’t even tell us she was leaving... Tell her that I’m sorry, too.”

“Agh. Alright.” Neteyam walks willingly out of the tent, making his way to the lab, eclipse in full throttle.

----

You brush and braid your hair, keeping it out of your face whilst you brush your teeth. Instead of getting into your pyjamas, you opt to stay wrapped in your towel, seeing that you were going to get naked anyways.

“Let’s do this.” you try psyching yourself up, making your way over to the charging object.

You unplug it and fidget with the button. Pressing the button, it immediately lights up and starts vibrating, making a loud buzzing noise. Startled, you quickly press the button once more, turning it off and throwing it on the bed.

Heart thumping viciously in your chest, you feel the flesh between your legs begin to pulse. All sorts of emotions were coursing through you all at once – anxiety, arousal, guilt. You decide that you need to get in the right head space to do this.

You unwrap your towel, resting it on the end of your bed. Crawling on the bed, you get comfortable, propping up your back against stacked pillows and spreading your legs. The cool, crisp air blows against your naked body, making your nipples hard and body shiver.

You reach for the vibrator, allowing it to brush against your inner thigh before placing it on the softness of your plump lips. Closing your eyes, you imagine Neteyam, standing in front of you with nothing but his loincloth on. His stripes are so prominent, much like his jawline and chiselled torso. His muscular chest stood strong, just like his thick biceps and brawny core.

Waist, lean yet robust, back, broad and sturdy – he was everything a girl could dream of. Nothing less than that of a mighty warrior. You feel your clit jump at the mere thought of his torso. As you make your way down his body you chew on your bottom lip, biting back a soft moan.

Breath becoming raggedy, you press the button with a shaky finger, jolting when the overpowering vibration touches your clit. You imagine his lower half – his thick, muscular, toned thighs, coated in a thin layer of sheen from sweat. Feeling yourself heat up from your lewd thoughts, you press the humming vibrator against your clit, trying to find a good spot.

Squeezing your eyes even tighter, you melt into the sheer power of this toy, relaxing your tensed leg muscles. You make your way in between his thighs and imagine his prominent v-lines, that have scant, dark hair – musky with his natural scent – peaking over the band of his loincloth.

Chest rising and falling from your heavy pants, your leg muscles tense again as that familiar hot feeling pools in your chest – you’re getting close. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, before parting them to allow little, soft moans to evade your mouth. You find your hips chasing your orgasm, bucking slightly against the length of the toy as you coat it in a thin layer of your wetness.

Working your way to his most vulnerable area, you imagine him hooking his thumbs underneath the band of his loincloth, gently tugging it down his hips. The more he tugs at the thin cloth, the more the thick, blue base of his cock is revealed. Your brows pinch at the sight, you wanted to know what it felt like, if you could even hold it with one hand.

The image of him brings you closer and closer, the heat pooling in your chest overflowing into the rest of your body, forming knots in the pit of your stomach. You always had a hard time with this stage, never getting past it – never making yourself cum.

“Oh, Nete!” you moan, “Make me cum, please.” You quiet down to a whisper, gritting your teeth as you arch your back.

He tugs the material down to his upper thighs, exposing the little dark blue stripes on his thick, veiny member.

“F-fuck!” you squeak, your head sinking deeper into your pillow as your toes dig into the softness of the bed.

He slips the loincloth down to his knees, revealing his throbbing, veiny cock, letting it slap against his belly, leaving a little wet spot as evidence. It’s so heavy, that even though he’s rock-hard, it rests, sheathed and hung, against his thigh.

----

“Thanks, Norm. I apologize again, for coming so late. I just... really need to make it up to her.” Neteyam bows his head quickly, thankful that he let him in the lab after hours.

“Don’t sweat it. She told me earlier she was feeling a little down. Just let yourself out when you’re finished talking, cool?” Norm responds, having more trust in Neteyam than the rest of them.

“I will.” Neteyam says, crouching slightly to make his way down the hallway to your door.

He looks at your door, reading the weird figures above the peep hole, ‘34’.

Three – four, that is hers, yes?

“Oh, Nete!” he hears your faint, muffled cry.

His ears perk up, heartbeat raising.

Why is she calling for me? Is she okay?

“F-fuck!” he hears your soft groan, hushed by some sort of whirring noise.

Oh shit. She sounds like she’s in pain. Maybe cramps?

Neteyam wastes not another second and bursts the door open, ready to help you in any way that he could. Instead, he’s met with the sight of you on the bed – naked – touching yourself.

----

You can’t hear the doorknob rattle over the buzz of your toy, and even if you could, you were too focused on trying to experience your first orgasm. It feels so good, it really felt like you were about to explode. Your breaths become shallow, and quick as you climb and climb towards your peak. All you can focus on, is Neteyam coming closer and closer to you, cock swinging at each step.

“Holy shit.” Neteyam breathes, chest rising and falling quickly, heart thumping violently in his chest. Eyes wide, brows raised, and mouth open, he watches you for a second too long, unable to take his eyes off the carnal sight in front of him.

“Shit.” You gasp, body practically curling up into a ball as you and yank the towel over your body and the toy. “What are you doing here?!” you shout at him, wrapping the towel around you properly as you shuffle your back against the wall.

He immediately drops his gaze, blinking repeatedly as he turns away from you, resting both hands on his forehead. “I am so sorry, y/n. I – I should have knocked. I’m sorry, I was just... coming to talk to you about something.” He babbles, gulping down a wad of his spit.

“About what?! So late?!” you shout, cheeks stained red from embarrassment.

You caught a quick glimpse of the bulge in his loincloth before he turned around. Your heart is thumping even faster, even harder. You just moaned his name.

Shit. Shit. Did he hear me moan his name? Fuck. How long has he been here?

“I’m sorry I upset you. Really. I-it can wait. I will be going now. I am so sorry, y/n.” he apologizes through raggedy breaths, feeling his own arousal.

He quickly leaves the room, closing the door tightly behind him, feeling like he just invaded your privacy – big time. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heart before walking away. You do the same, taking deep breaths to calm down and figure out what the fuck just happened.

Your hand rests on your chest, feeling the thud of your vicious heartbeats. He does the same, hand on his chest, leaning back against the door as he tries to catch his breath. He wants nothing more than to just go back in the room and tell you how he feels, especially now that he knows you think about him when you touch yourself.

It’s the same for you, wanting so badly for him to just burst back in your room, and confess his undying love for you. But you knew that was too far-fetched, to have the eldest son of Olo’eyktan love a simple human girl like you.

Then, why was he... hard?

You stare at the door, waiting to see if it’d open once more. Neteyam’s on the other side, debating with himself whether he should go back in there and come clean. Shaking his head, he attempts to snap out of his deep thoughts – you were naked, and obviously in the middle of something intimate. If he went back in there that’s just him invading your privacy even more. Deciding against staying, he starts making his way down the hallway.

He makes it halfway down the hallway before he stops dead in his tracks, ears perking up and expression softening.

But she said my name, right? He thinks, turning his head to look back on the ‘34’ on your door.

“Agh.” He growls, snapping his head back down to look at his feet. “Fuck it.” he turns around, storming to the door once more.

Surely, if he came all this way, at this time of night to talk to you, then it must be important. Perhaps, important enough to involve his feelings about you? Either way, it’s gone too far now. You may as well come clean yourself.

Making your way over to your door, you reach out to grab the doorknob, only to see it turn on its own. The door swings open, a gust of air blowing the loose stands of hair out of your face. Where the knob once was, is now where Neteyam’s loincloth rests, almost bursting at its seams.

Directly in your line of sight is his cross shaped ribcage, brutally rising and falling from his heavy pants. Your eyes work their way up his torso, past his muscular chest and carved collarbones, to the stripes on his neck and the flush of his cheeks. Your eyes lock with his amber eyes, searching once another in the silence.

He came back.

She was coming to get me.

You smile in unison, coming to the same realization – there was something deeper going on here.

“Hi.” You breathe.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, hand tightly grasping the overlap of your towel.

“Yes.” He glances quickly at you gripping onto your towel, before looking away from your chest all together. He wants to be a gentleman about this. “Do you want to talk?”

“Yes.” You say shyly, also noticing his shy demeanour.

He looks back down at you, scanning your facial expression to ensure you were being serious. He crouches under the doorframe and enters your room, walking over to the bed.

Your eyes follow his every move, his every step. “You can sit.” You say quietly, finally shifting your gaze to your feet. “What did you want to talk about?”

He seats himself at the end of your bed, elbows resting on his knees and head hanging low. “I wanted to tell you something, y/n. To tell you my true feelings.”

You heart quickens once more, hearing the words you’ve been dreaming to hear. Now that he’s sitting on your bed, you’re face to face. You take slow steps towards him, standing directly in front of him.

“And what might those be, Nete?” you ask, using two dainty fingers under his chin to have him look at you.

He stares deeply into your eyes, furrowing his brows slightly as a puzzled look grows on his face.

How do I even say this?

“I – I...” he stutters, relaxing his brows and swallowing his spit, “Oel ngati kameie” [I see you]. he confesses, cupping your hand on his chin with his.

You can’t fight the smile creeping on your face. Not only did he confess his romantic feelings for you, but he did it in na’vi. He sees you, not as a little human girl stuck on his planet, but as his equal – his mate.

“Oel ngati kameie, ‘teyam.” You repeat his words, letting him know you feel the same way.

A grin plasters his face, causing his ears to perk up. He pulls you in closer by the hand, situating your tiny frame in between his meaty thighs.

“I have felt this way for some time, y/n.” he continues, inches away from your face, “Since we were kids, playing hide and seek in the trees...” he looks down at your lips, “...since I first lay eyes on you.”

Staring at his lips too, you nod, unable to respond with words.

“I do not care, if we do not ‘work’ together... I cannot ignore my feelings for you anymore.” he places your hand against his warm chest, as he inches even closer to your face. “Feel it... My heart, it beats for you.”

Feeling his heartbeat against your palm, you wrap your dainty fingers around his thumb, gently tugging down your towel with your other hand to expose your cleavage. Inhaling sharply, you place his hand flat against your chest.

“Mine too, Nete.” You finally whisper under your breath. “I-I feel the same. At first sight.” You mumble, now feeling his hot, short breaths against your lips.

Inexperienced lips crash into yours, hungry and eager for your reciprocation. You kiss him fervently, waiting for this moment for practically your entire existence. Bodies pressing together, feeling the warmth radiating from one another’s skin, you fumble with the knot of your towel. A hand stops you, keeping you from untying the loosely wrapped material around your body, he shakes his head side to side.

“Are you sure?” he breathes into your mouth between wet kisses. “I did not...” he kisses you again, “...come back for that, my love”.

“Mhm” you mumble into his mouth, moving his hand away to fiddle with the woven part of your towel once more. You stop and pull away suddenly, coming to the realization that maybe he doesn’t want this. “Do you...want this?” you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckles breathily, smiling wide before pulling you back in to kiss you again. “How could I not?” he mumbles between sloppy kisses.

Smiling into his mouth, your teeth click together as you feel the pink tinge on your cheeks turn even brighter – even hotter. Breaths heavy and uneven, you feel the thud of your collective heartbeat as you allow your towel fall to the ground. Immediately, he pulls away, looking up and down at your human body.

“Yuey [beautiful]” he says out of breath, mesmerized by the curves and softness of your body.

Allowing his eyes to linger at your chest, he looks up at you briefly, silently asking for your consent to touch your breasts. You nod, pulling his hand up to the soft flesh on your chest before meeting your lips with his once more. His hand completely envelopes your breast, kneading it as gently as he can. His thumb brushes past your hard nipple, playing with it ever so slightly.

Having someone else touch you in this way makes your body shudder. It’s your first time, your first kiss, your first – everything.

A warm tongue presses against your lips, asking for permission to enter your mouth. You grant it, parting your lips and meeting your tongue with his, allowing them to dance with one another in your mouth.

His movements become eager – more impatient. He kneads your breast a little rougher, now gently rolling your small nipple between his calloused fingers. Your body jolts from the sudden pleasure, and a soft moan escapes your mouth into his.

“Feels good, yes?” he returns a moan, making sure you’re okay.

“Yes, teyam.” You nod, moving his hand to your other breast.

Repeating his movements, he gently rolls your nipple whilst kneading your breast. It feels so good, that you can’t help but pant into his mouth, allowing your hands to feel his chest, too.

It’s just as you imagined, his chest is hard yet soft, his skin smooth yet rough, like that of a warrior. Both your hands could fit comfortably on just one of his pecks – his size in comparison to you was no joke. You feel his hand snake around your waist and up your back, calloused fingers taking in the suppleness of your skin.

“So soft” he mumbles, moving his gentle kisses down your neck.

“You, too” you mumble back, moving your hands up to his broad shoulders.

“Not nearly as soft as you, my sevin [pretty].” he smiles into your neck, before planting kisses down to your chest. “May I?” he asks, brushing his lips against your breast.

“Yes. Always yes.” you reassure him, willing to let him do anything he wants to you.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, as well as most of your breast. He suckles as gently as he can, afraid he may nip you with his fangs. Your hands slide from his shoulders, up his neck to his head, where your fingers intertwine with his braids. Using it as leverage, you press him closer into your chest, letting him know he’s making you feel good.

To your surprise, he allows his hands to fall to your hips, pulling you on top of him. It causes him to unlatch from your breast, moving his wet lips up to your collarbones. Your bare pussy is pressed against his bulge, dampening the material that covers it.

“Neteyam” you call for him quietly, feeling so good from his soothing touches.

“Yes, my love?” he responds, pulling away from your shoulders to look in your eyes.

“Can I see... you, too?” you ask shyly, breaking eye contact to glance at his soddened loincloth.

His eyes follow yours, seeing that the thin cloth is soaked. Shooting his gaze back up yours.

“You’re so wet.” he whispers, so enthralled with you that he forgets what you asked of him. He looks at your reddened face, realizing that you’re waiting for his response. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I want to see you, too.” you repeat, dropping your hands to tug at the band of his loincloth.

Smiling, he leans back, supporting his torso with his arms behind him on the bed. You trail your eyes down from his face to his pelvis, seeing the small knot at the side of his loincloth. Fumbling with the knot, your shaky hands try their best to untie the material. He notices, resting his hand over yours before untying it himself.

“No need to be nervous, y/n. We will not do anything you are not ready for, okay?” he reassures you, untying the knot easily.

“Okay.” you nod, scooting back on his lap to make space for his loincloth to come off.

You slowly move the band down, exposing his deep v-lines and scant hair. You swallow your spit before taking it off completely, revealing his huge, thick cock. Your eyes bulge at the sight, eyebrows raising slightly as your mouth opens wide enough for a sharp breath of air to pass through your lips.

“Oh shit.” You pant quietly, surprised because it’s much bigger than you imagined.

The tip of his cock touches the middle of his thigh, the length and thickness of your forearm. Panicked eyes meet his, scared that he’d rip you in two.

“What is it?” he asks, concerned that you’re uncomfortable.

“It’s – you’re, y-you are too big for me.” your lips tremble as the words slip out.

His brows draw together, eyes squinting slightly – a puzzled expression contorts his face. He cups your cheek, searching your eyes for some sort of clarification. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think – uh. I-I don’t think that will fit inside of me, Nete.” you stutter, feeling too shy to say the words.

Neteyam can’t help but laugh a little. “Ma’ yawne [beloved]...” he uses his thumb to rub your cheek, “...you need not to worry about that. I do not want to do anything that will hurt you.”

The words bring serenity to your chest, making the uneven thud of your heartbeat rhythmic. As much as you want to share that level of intimacy with him, you’ve only been able to fit two of your own fingers inside of you. You lean into his touch, rubbing your face against his palm as a smile plasters your face.

Always so protective over you.

Turns out, he was only half-hard. You watch in awe as his member grows, lifting from his thigh to his belly, all on its own. Neteyam looks away to hide his flushed cheeks. You notice and take this as your sign to touch him for the first time. Wrapping your slim fingers around his girth, you find that your fingertips can’t touch each other. His pelvis shifts suddenly from the warmth of your touch.

“Am I making the mighty warrior blush?” you hum, wrapping your other hand around the base of his cock.

His eyes fall onto his crotch, watching as your hands stroke his shaft. He looks back up at you, directly into your eyes.

“Maybe.” his voice is low, and deep.

You never thought you’d even be in this position, stroking the cock of the man of your dreams. Even worse, him staring at you with sultry eyes and a husky voice, telling you that you’re making him nervous.

“Can I touch you, here?” he asks, sitting up fully and resting his hand on your inner thigh.

“Didn’t I say ‘yes, always yes’?” you smile at him, shifting your hips to allow for better access.

Wrapping one arm around his neck, you hold onto him tightly for support as his hand cups your pussy, making you gasp quickly. You feel his finger part your wet lips, searching for the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. You bury your face into the crook of his neck just as he finds your clit, rubbing circles into it with his slick coated finger.

Hot, quick pants evade your parted lips, blowing directly onto his neck. His lips plant kisses on your shoulder, tongue playing in the dip of your collarbone. You stroke his cock one handed, trying your hardest to provide enough friction for him to feel good too.

“Is this, okay?” he asks breathlessly, moving his finger down to your entrance.

“Yes, my ‘teyam.” you mumble into his neck, bracing yourself for his thick finger to enter you.

“Let me know if it hurts, my love.” he whispers, slowly sliding his finger inside of you.

“Oh! Ugh.” A strained moan is muffled in his neck, as you feel this finger stretch you out.

You shift your hand from his cock and wrap it around his neck, holding on as tightly as you can. His singular finger easily feels like two of yours, not to mention the fact that they’re much lengthier.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers into your ear.

“No. I’m okay, teyam.” you mumble, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling.

“Good. I am going to move now.” he warns, curling his finger directly into your sweet spot.

You gasp loudly, feeling the pressure already build in your bladder. It feels amazing – better than you’ve ever felt with your own fingers. Your hips buck on their own, grinding into the finger that impales you.

Little, sweet mewls escape your open mouth, beads of saliva dripping onto his chest. You’re so focused on the way he’s making you feel you didn’t even realise the volume of your whines and whimpers until he makes a comment about it.

“I like your little noises, y/n.” he says, pumping his finger in and out of you. “Are you... close?”

“I – I don’t know, I’ve never, c-cum before.” Your breath hitches, feeling your chest and stomach tighten.

Your legs begin to tremble, like they’ll give out underneath you at any moment. “Oh, Nete!” you moan his name, catching a glimpse of his ears perking up from the sound of his name rolling off your tongue.

His hips buck, too, thrusting his cock against your stomach. He’s losing it, all from hearing the sweet sounds that come from your mouth. Pulling away from his neck, you look down at his glossy cockhead poking at your stomach, then back up to look into his amber eyes.

“This is where you’d be... inside me.” you breathe, shifting a hand off his neck to press a finger under your sternum, where his tip touches.

“Whoa. Y-you are so, so tiny, y/n. I’m so scared that I will hurt you.” Neteyam confesses, rutting his hips against you.

“You won’t. I trust you, teyam.” you pant, feeling your legs wobble.

Your heads bump together, as your now both grinding into one another. He feels your weak legs shake and snakes his free hand around your back, supporting it as he lays you down on the bed.

He catches sight of the bright pink toy near your head, eyes widening.

“What is that? Where did you get it from?” he asks, still fingering you.

“Ah... haah, I – I kind of found it.” you pant raggedly, “Ngh! It’s a – oh fuck!” you moan, feeling a new sensation in your pelvis grow.

“It’s a ‘oh fuck’?” Neteyam chuckles, picking up speed.

“Neteyam! That feels weird.” You moan, eyes pooling with water from how good it feels.

“Weird, bad? Or weird, good?” he asks, slowing down his pace.

“Good! Good!” you shout, not wanting him to stop.

“Ah. Good.” He smiles, picking back up the speed, “Now, what is that thing?”

“It’s – it’s a vibrator! Fuck. Don’t stop, Nete.” you whisper desperately, arching your back against the bed. “I think – I think I’m close!” you let loose a strained moan.

“I want to taste it. Can I taste you?” he asks, already making his way in between your legs.

“O-okay teyam” you whine quietly, spreading your legs as wide as they can go.

His hot mouth engulfs your throbbing clit, the flat of his tongue shifting from side to side. “Good?” he mumbles into your slit.

“Mmmn! Fuck, yes!” you moan loudly, bucking your hips into his face.

He grabs your hand and places it on his head, you weave your fingers through his braids.

“Another... another finger!” you beg, feeling the knots in your stomach quickly unravel.

He shakes his head side to side, “’til hurt” he mumbles once more, picking up the speed of both his tongue and finger.

“Please! ‘m gonna cum, Nete!” you plead, toes curling into the sheet beneath you.

He gently slides another digit inside you, feeling the tightness of your cunt clenching around it. You yelp out, feeling a hint of pain among the waves of pleasure that crash through you. He pulls his finger back out, lifting his head up, causing your hand to fall from his head.

“See? I told you. I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asks through knitted brows, looking down at your glistening cunt sucking in his finger.

“Only a little, I’m fine teyam.” you reassure him, wiggling your hips back down onto his finger.

He clicks his tongue, catching a glimpse of the vibrator.

“Let us try this... vee-bray-tor?” he says the word slowly, as he reaches for the pink object beside your head.

He presses the button causing the thing to vibrate in his hand, shock plastering his face from the sensation of it buzzing against his skin. Your hips jolt as he presses the toy against your clit, sending shockwaves up your spine.

“Ohh, Neteyam!” you moan loudly, the feeling overwhelms you. “’ts too much...” your hips shift away from the toy, as you try to reach for his head once more.

He chuckles, switching the toy off and throwing it on the floor. “Prefer me?” he asks huskily, pinning down your leg as he leans in to suck on your clit once more.

“Mmmn, mhm!” you mumble, pushing your cunt into his face.

He closes his eyes, tuning in to the filthy noises that evade your mouth, drawing circles into your clit with the tip of his tongue. Neteyam touches himself, finally hearing the sounds that he’s been imagining every time he pleasured himself.

“Neteyam. I’m so fucking close.” you pant quickly.

He picks up the speed, now knowing where exactly feels good for you, and targets those sensitive areas. He rubs his own cock, beads of precum oozing from his tip lubricating his hand, allowing for fast strokes. He’s huffing hot breaths through his nose onto your lower stomach, giving you goosebumps.

“Holy fuck... R-right there” You let loose breathy moans, feeling the swell of your sweet spot pushing against his finger, as he curls it even harder and faster into you.

“Mmmhm” he moans into your clit, looking directly at you, encouraging you with his eyes to cum for him.

Bucking his hips into his hand, he feels his own orgasm quickly approaching. His brows tighten, feel his own knots unravel quickly in his stomach. He grunts into your cunt, finally squeezing his eyes shut as his thrusts become shorter.

You look between your legs, watching his aroused expression, now realizing that he’s pleasuring himself. It makes you feel even hotter – even hornier, sending you over the edge.

“Oh – oh shit, Neteyam! I think I’m – I’m cumming!” you cry out, shoving his face into your pussy.

You feel your cunt go into a frenzy, throbbing and pulsating feverishly around his finger.

His grunts turn into guttural groans, as he tries to concentrate on making you finish while his warm cum slowly pools into his hand. You push away his head, now feeling overstimulated from his relentless licks, for him to sit up quickly, grabbing his mask in a hurry to suck in a deep, long breath.

“You taste sweet, y/n.” he moans breathlessly, gently pulling his finger out of you. He sucks his finger, savouring the flavour of your slick.

Your cheeks heat up, feeling shy to see him taste you on his finger like that.

“That was... the first time.” you mumble wide eyed, breath hitching from you coming down from your high.

He smiles.

“I know. I’m happy I could do that for you, my love.” he projects his voice as he crouches under your bathroom doorframe.

He quickly cleans himself up so he can tend to you, coming back with a dampened cloth.

“Feeling okay?” he asks quietly, wiping the slick off your thighs, working his way up to the soft flesh between your legs.

“Yes, I’m... more than okay.” You hum softly, chest rising and falling as you try to take a full breath, feeling his tender, gentle touches as he cleans you up.

“Want to shower?” He questions, hanging the cloth against the back of your chair.

You shake your head weakly from side to side, puffy eyes blinking lethargically.

“What about clothes?” he makes his way over to your dresser, resting his hand on the top drawer’s handle, “tis a cold night.”

“Mm... rather you keep me warm.” you blabber, resting your eyes for a minute.

“My pleasure, yawne [beloved].” He smiles.

Tucking one hand under your neck, and the other under the back of your knees he lifts you up, moving you further up in your bed.

“Tired?” he chuckles softly, crawling into bed next to you.

“Mhmm.” You purr lengthily, trying to open your eyes as you scoot back onto him. “Don’t leave, Nete.”

“Alright, my love. I won’t. I will be right here. Get some rest.” He hums, pressing his warm naked body against yours.

He covers you with the blanket first, and then himself with whatever was remaining. He’s too tall for the blanket anyway, as well as the bed, honestly – he’s too tall for this whole place. Legs jutting off the end of the bed, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer to him.

Heavy eyes finally closing, you snuggle into your love, gripping a single finger on the hand are rests on your stomach. He unhooks the mask from around his neck, and straps it to his face, so that he, too, can close his eyes and drift into a deep sleep.

----

Everyone was accepting of your relationship with Neteyam. Surprisingly, his parents were both expecting it at some point, and had already taken the time to come to terms with it – well, mostly Neytiri. Jake was always welcoming of you. Kiri and Lo’ak were happy you two finally hit things off. Everyone, including the members of the clan, could tell that you both had feelings for one another. Even Norm and Max were elated for the two of you, both knowing that there was something more going on between you guys. Norm knew that night would be the night for the both of you to make things official, which is why he granted Neteyam access afterhours.

One day, Norm and Max approach you and Neteyam in your room, knocking quietly on your already open door.

“Y/n. Neteyam.” they say monotonously in unison.

You both look at them, concern growing in your chest after seeing their serious expressions.

“What is it?” you manage to get out, holding Neteyam’s hand tightly, thinking something horrible has happened.

Their expressions soften, a smile creeping on both their faces before they burst out in laughter.

“Just joking with ya.” Max laughs, looking at Norm.

“Yeah. We come bearing good news, actually.” Norm adds, quickly glancing at Max before looking at you once more.

“Good news? What is it?” Neteyam asks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, calming you down.

“Well, it’s not like you guys don’t already know. You can think of it as a ‘mating’ gift, ya know, seeing that na’vi don’t have weddings.” Max babbles, straying from the point.

“You’re getting your own avatar, y/n.” Norm announces happily, knowing that this is your biggest dream yet.

“What?! Are you serious?” you shriek, jumping to your feet, eyes flickering between the two of them.

Neteyam is still holding your hand tightly, now standing with you, wrapping his tail around your leg. Ever since you revealed your feelings to one another, Neteyam has rarely left your side, always making sure he’s near you – protecting you. You were his mate now, nothing less.

“Yep. She’ll be ready in about four months.” Max smiles, proud that he could pull the strings to get his favourite girl her own avatar.

“Oh, Max. Norm.” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, guys. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this.” You walk swiftly towards them to give them both a big hug.

Neteyam reluctantly lets go of your hand and leg, but follows closely behind you, towering over the two men. He wraps his tail around your leg once more, always needing to touch you in some way.

You hug them both, tippy toeing to squeeze their necks as hard as you can – to show how much you really appreciate what their doing for you.

“Thank you, Max, Norm.” Neteyam says, smiling and bowing his head at them both.

“Our pleasure, guys.” Max and Norm chant together. “C’mere Neteyam.” Norm smiles, pulling Neteyam into the hug.

Photo creds: ?? let me know!!

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thewomanwhoboughttheworld · 7 months

Text

I reckon it is widely accepted that Crowley and Freddie Mercury were, at the very least, besties, sometimes lovers, sometimes had a fling or dated. But I have feelings and headcanons nobody asked for that I have to share.

They met while Freddie was still in college. Freddie saw Crowley, drew a quick sketch of him and got up and gave it to Crowley. "I promise I will draw you a better one, dear." He never did, but Crowley still keeps the drawing and miracled it to always look like just made.

Crowley never really liked Mary Austin. He didn't like her when she was Freddie's girlfriend and always found a way to inconvenience her. He still doesn't like her, especially after she put Freddie's belongings up for auction. He liked Jim Hutton, however.

Freddie kissed Crowley first. It was after a rehearsal of one of Freddie's early bands, Crowley was giving him his feedback. Freddie just leaned in and kissed him. He avoided the demon for the following two weeks as he was confused (he still hadn't realised he liked boys) and felt embarrassed.

Even though they were both adamant that there were no feelings involved, they both deeply cared for each other. Neither would admit it, saying they were only friends who (more than) occasionally hooked up, but they both knew there was more. However, Freddie fell a bit harder even though he knew Crowley wasn't in love with him. It did hurt a bit, but he was eventually fine with it.

Freddie actually knew about Crowley and Aziraphale being a demon and an angel. Crowley told him one night while they were both drunk and then Freddie remembered and asked him. Crowley tried to deny it, but Freddie insisted so much that in the end, he decided to tell him everything as he knew Freddie wouldn't tell anybody. And he never did, he treated this like his own secret.

The first time Freddie saw Crowley's eyes, Crowley thought he would be scared. But Freddie just said: "I know they're snake eyes, but they remind me of my cats. And what a lovely colour, darling. Yellow's my favourite, you know?".

Crowley ranted A LOT about Aziraphale to Freddie. He was always going on about how much he hated his being a goody-two-shoes, how infuriating his constant reminding him that he was actually a good person and how the fuck can 6000 years be too fast? Freddie just smiled because he knew. He could see how much Crowley loved that angel. It broke his own heart, because he knew he could never be loved that much, but never said a word.

Freddie did write a lot of songs about Crowley and Aziraphale. Obviously Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, but also Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Somebody to Love and many more. Spread Your Wings is specifically about Crowley and he knew. But what Freddie would never tell anyone, a secret that he brought to the tomb with him, is that he wrote Love of My Life and You Take my Breath Away for him. (told you that Freddie was in love, my poor baby suffered too much in his life).

Freddie taught Crowley how to play the piano.

Crowley auctioned for some of Freddie's belongings. He got some kimonos, some handwritten sheets and his piano. He couldn't let anyone else have it.

Crowley never really left Freddie's side. He was always that mysterious, dark and handsome man showing up especially when Freddie needed someone. People eventually accepted it as part of Freddie's charm as he was always so secretive about his personal life.

Freddie let himself be vulnerable only around Crowley. Just as Crowley took off his glasses with him, Freddie allowed himself to cry only those times in which they were alone. He cried in Crowley's arms so much when his illness was worsening, when he was scared of how much he would have suffered. One night it got so bad that Freddie was basically begging Crowley to end his suffering and Crowley had to perform a miracle so that he could sleep. Neither brought it up ever again.

When Freddie died, Crowley was there with him. He gave Freddie just enough life to allow him to say some words. "You promised me you wouldn't come," Freddie told him. "I'm a demon, I lied" replied Crowley with a broken voice. He then sat on the bed and stayed with him until the very last moment. Aziraphale was there too. He followed Crowley without telling him because he felt he needed him. Aziraphale took away Freddie's suffering so that he could go without pain.

That same night, Aziraphale tried to persuade Crowley to stay at his library because he thought Crowley needed a friend. Crowley refused, hopped on his Bentley and drove away. He parked in front of his apartment building and found a used packet of cigarettes and an old pair of sunglasses that belonged to Freddie in his car. As the radio passed Love of my life, he couldn't hold it anymore and burst into tears. He cried hard, really hard. He felt a familiar hand on his back but didn't look and didn't ask. Aziraphale never said anything either and didn't leave until Crowley stopped crying but before he could be seen. He remembered how much it hurt and didn't want Crowley to grieve alone.

Master post: here

#I am deeply sorry for the last ones #Or maybe I'm not that sorry #I just love the idea of them together for a while #I mean Freddie and Aziraphale have some things in common #And Aziraphale would be friends with Brian May #Good omens #good omens headcanons #crowley #good omens s2 #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #freddie mercury #crowley angst #good omens season 2 #queen #good omens spoilers

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esmedelacroix · 4 months

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21 days til' Christmas

building a snowman with singleparent!miguel o'hara and gabriela⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

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Gabriela was on winter vacation but Miguel still worked eight hours a day. He may have been his own boss but he still held himself accountable and worked just as much as his own employees. It was only fair.

You had been babysitting Gabi for ages. It had been almost two years since you started babysitting her. She had grown up so much in these past couple of years. Miguel also grew a lot as a parent and as a person.

You and Miguel only became official about six months ago despite Gabi's effort to get the two of you together from the get-go.

You were helping Gabrelia get the last of her snow protection on when you heard the door swing open, You heard fast and heavy footsteps running up the stairs at an alarmingly fast speed. Miguel made his way to the doorframe with his coat still on and his glasses on the top of his head. "Papa's on vacation!" Miguel exclaimed as he held his arms out for Gabriela.

She bolted towards him and jumped into his arms. He lifted her up and peppered her face with kisses until she made disgusted noises.

"Papa! That tickles!" she squealed giggling like crazy.

Miguel gave you a look before giving you a quick kiss.

"We were just about to go play in the snow, wanna join us Miguel?" you asked.

"Of course, I love spending time with my girls," he answered as the three of you stepped outside and began a crazy snowball fight.

Gabriella made a 'snowball' that was almost as tall as she was and tried her hardest to pick it up to throw at her dad.

"I don't think you can throw something this big mama, but we can make a snowman," Miguel suggested.

"Yay! Snowman!" Gabi cheered as she jumped up and down beginning to make the second layer. She was surprisingly good at making snowmen for a six-year-old.

You and Miguel made the head together and all three layers were formed perfectly.

"Gabi, let's go inside and get some clothes and such for the snowman so we can bring him alive," you said, taking her hand.

Miguel watched the two of you giggle and run around the house lovingly. He finally felt complete. He felt like it was his fault that Gabirelia's mother had died that day, he felt like he was the reason his daughter had no mother figure to look up to, and he felt like it was his fault that his beautiful Gabi grew up in an incomplete family for all those years.

That was until you came around and taught him how to forgive himself. How to stop blaming himself for inevitable things. You taught him that he is just a mere human, that every bad thing that happens in his life can't be his fault because he's not the one making them happen.

The two of you came back out with a carrot, scarf, sticks, pebbles, and a hat.

You both sang Frosty the Snowman obnoxiously until Miguel joined in while you gave your snowman buttons, a mouth, eyes a nose, a scarf, and finally its hat, which brought it to life.

"What should we name them?" Miguel asked Gabi.

"Jaxx!" she exclaimed.

Who's that? Miguel asked with his eyes

Kid she likes at school. You answered almost telepathically.

You didn't know how the two of you communicated with just your eyes but it came in handy at times.

Miguel laughed to himself, happy to see Gabriela having crushes and talking to you about them.

"Alright both of you let's get inside and have some hot baths and soup," Miguel said, ushering the two of you back into the house. The two of you groaned not wanting to leave.

"Come on, you ladies are going to catch a cold if you don't," he warned.

To that, Gabi responded by running into the house and going to her bathroom.

"Thanks for looking after her Cariño[honey], I can't express enough how thankful I am to you," Miguel said.

"I love Gabi, and I love you just as much, it's always a pleasure Miguel," you reassured as you draped your arms over his shoulder causing him to pull you in by the waist.

"You wanna know what else is always a pleasure?" Miguel asked.

You looked at him with a puzzled look.

"This," he said as he started tickling you, causing you to erupt into violent laughter.

"Stop- Bahahaha, Miguel please," you barely chuckled out.

He laughed at your reaction before ushering you up the stairs for a bath.

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taglist: @aripet22@to-the-endoftheline

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dreamlandcreations · 9 months

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Beauty and the Beast

Darth Maul x Queen of Naboo!Reader

Summary: Maul is tasked to keep you in line while his master's plan comes together on Coruscant...

Warnings: angst, enemies to lovers (it doesn't really get to the lovers part but that's where this is going); mentions of child kidnapping, of murder and maybe other war crimes, of blackmail/threats (from canon), not proofread at all, a mess of POVs, long fic?, idk I went a little crazy with this

inspired by @alexversenaberrie's edits for @maulweek

~ 3K words

You called him a beast the first time you've seen what he is capable of. You never would have thought that he takes it to heart and tries to hide from you through the weeks when he acts as your guard while keeping you imprisoned in your own palace.

Maul wasn't much of a talker, so to say he was speechless when he saw you for the first time would probably not justify the feelings that still hold him captive from that moment - along with the pain and rage that your words caused him, of course - but he had no better way to describe the experience, as he was never taught to indulge in anything like this. Quite the opposite actually.

He was holding onto those lessons, trying to fuel his rage with the pain he felt when he realised he wanted you and you would never feel the same. He was trying to hate you, telling himself that you are just a spoiled princess who is nothing but a pawn in his master's plans.

His resolve would crumble within seconds of meeting you each day. The way you proudly held on and denied each offer of an easy way out, readily providing a defiant and sometimes mocking answer to everything your weak-minded enemies said. They thought they could break you but Maul knew better, he felt your strength and the underlining growing rage that might just burn them all in the end.

The Queen of Naboo fascinated him beyond words, not just with her beauty that he was fortunate to witness without all the paint you hide behind these days, but everything else he learned about you in this short time. Even the fact that you are strong enough to keep him out of your mind.

You felt his eyes on you all the time, he never said anything but most of the time you could tell what he was thinking. For how little he was showing of his face, it was really telling. Especially his eyes, that you were unfortunately too mesmerised by to look away from on the rare occasion he was actually facing you and not staring out of the window or looking menacingly at your captors.

But he was also your captor, you had to remind yourself way too often. Your mind regularly took you in the direction of wondering about his past. Because you needed to understand him in order to defeat him. Or at least that's what you've been telling yourself.

One afternoon he decided to barge into your bedchamber and caught you hacking into the Trade Federation's network to communicate with your trusted handmaidens, one of which took your place and your senator who escaped with the Jedi the Sith tried to kill. He smashed the consol with his mind and grabbed you by your throat, finding you without your armour of paint and jewels.

For a moment Maul thought the tears, fear and pain he saw were a result of his attack but the message you just listened to was still on and the display kept glitching but he understood the point of the news you received. The Senate abandoned you.

He saw how your misery turned into scorching anger that any Sith could envy and he couldn't help but stare admiringly. Then he let you go, curious as to what you would do. He did not expect you to have a weapon in your sleeve though.

It took him by surprise, not just the dagger but the attack too. You were nowhere near as good as him but you were trained well to use everything to your advantage and if he was an ordinary man, you might have managed to seriously hurt him too.

The first stab grazed his cheek, drawing a faint line of blood but he didn't even flinch and that somehow made you angrier, if that was possible. He let you surrender to your rage, not even trying to stop your attacks, just leaning away and stepping backwards a few times until he got you next to a pillar and grabbed your hand, hitting it against the stone until you dropped the blade.

He caught you, turning you around and pulling you to him, trapping you in his arms as you fell to the floor then he just let you scream with helpless rage while you still struggled against him. But after a while you became too exhausted, sagging in his hold completely, the back of your head hitting his shoulder.

He let you go after savouring your closeness for a stolen moment. After you pulled away, turning around, positioning yourself to face him while you sat against the pillar he carefully moved too, not to scare or agitate you. Resting his elbow on his bent knee, he subtly leaned a little closer, studying you while you collected yourself.

He didn't say anything as you calmed down and wiped your tears with your sleeve. Then you were looking at him, trying to figure out why he let you off so easily and you wanted to ask so many other things but you realised you didn't even know what to call him, so you asked first, "What is your name?"

"Maul," he answered before he could think this through and didn't even take your acknowledging hmm as an insult as he might with anyone else. And before you could start to interrogate him, he let his curiosity known.

"What is yours?" Your frown told him what would be your answer, so he quickly clarified. "The real one."

Maul didn't expect to get a weak smile at that and even though it was gone before he could blink, he knew it was there and the image would surely come back to plague him later.

"Can't you read my mind and find out?" You arched a brow challengingly, almost playfully and he felt a tug in his hearts at that. Before you continued and managed to hit a sensitive topic. "I thought Jedi could make people do things..."

"I am not a Jedi!" he growled back at you, cutting off your taunting.

"Clearly," you responded with only a little less hint of disdain.

He narrowed his eyes, apparently deeply insulted by the comparison. "The force is not the privilege of the Jedi, no matter how highly they put themselves above others."

"Is that why you hate them?"

"They wiped out my kind." You frowned at that.

"You are a Zabrak, aren't you? Your kind lives on Iridonia and Dathomir, I..."

He interrupted again, obviously not wanting to discuss that topic either but his confused expression betrayed the reason for his sudden change of topic. "The Jedi will not help you, nor will the Senate. Sign the treaty and end the suffering of your people."

Now that you were starting to understand him, you knew how to get what you wanted. In his case, with a little bit more antagonizing while satisfying your curiosity. "You could force me to sign it. Why didn't you?"

He stood up, turning his back on you, going to take his usual place in your presence, staring out of the window. "Only the weak are easy to control."

"You almost killed two Jedi, I don't suppose that is an easy task either."

He turned back to you, reaching up and slowly taking off his hood, daring you to look away. So you didn't. You kept looking at him, taking in his features with little to no emotion on your own face.

"What? You don't find this beast so hideous anymore now that you have no other hope?"

Now that, got him a reaction. You looked at him in utter confusion before you understood what he was referring to.

"I did not call you a beast because of the way you look but for how you acted." Although you truly meant it, he took the hint of laughter in your voice in the wrong way.

Quickly making the distance between you, he grabbed you by your throat once more. "You think I am so easily fooled?"

It was a little harder to breathe from the pressure but he wasn't really hurting you so you took a chance and went back to the question he dodged twice now. "If you don't believe me, why don't you look for yourself? See what I think about you."

You could see how he was struggling to hold back something but he gave up on it after a long moment of silent contemplation. But he decided to show you instead of simply telling.

You felt something trying to push into your consciousness, and despite it being almost gentle, something in you snapped and shouted inwardly 'no!' as you somehow pushed it away like it burned you. Your vision darkened for a second, and you could have blamed it on that or the following dizzyness that you saw a hint of a smile on his usually stern face but his eyes were still telling, speaking of feelings you did not want to dig deeper into.

But then he confirmed his admiration for you as he explained with a gentle tone, "You are strong. To break down your walls would mean breaking you."

With his answer, his hold on you loosened too and if you didn't know better you would have sworn you felt him caress your chin as he let you go. He moved to step back and give you some space but you surprised him again.

"Try it again."

It was almost cute how he tilted his head to the side and regarded you with utter astonishment. Then he did as you asked.

Your little experiment went a bit sideways though, because while you managed to let him in, somehow you also caught a memory he obviously didn't mean to project to your mind. And he did not take your thoughts well to that painful memory of one of the first lessons he remembered.

"I am not broken," he growled, oversimplifying what you thought.

"Yes, you are." You boldly approached him, explaining your conclusions with a gentle tone. "The Jedi take very young children to train them. You were taken too. Otherwise, you would know more about your origin, if it had been your choice to leave."

He didn't answer and even refused to look at you but you were not afraid anymore. You didn't have much to lose anyway.

"You have a master, don't you?" Still no answer. "He's the one who broke you. And he will order you to break me too."

He knew you were right but it would mean that all of his suffering was for nothing, because he knew couldn't do it. He couldn"t hurt you and he will lose everything. So he did what he was taught and leaned on his anger, lashing out at you to avoid facing the truth.

"What do you know of any of that, Your Highness? Living in your fancy little palace, surrounded by servants and riches must have been a terrible fate."

The fury reflected in his glowing eyes might have scared you a few days ago, but not anymore. You did not even return his anger, answering in a calm and confident tone that enchanted him.

"I was elected to be Queen for the first time when I was barely fourteen. While I can't even imagine what you went through, I do have an idea about the weight of expectations put on you when you are way too young to bare them."

You jumped a little as he finally silenced the still crackling comms and left without a word.

The next morning your predictions came true. His master contacted them.

"Let's end this once and for all. Make her sign it." The hooded figure ordered him and for the first time in years, he did not follow the instruction immediately.

"If I force her mind open, it will kill her."

Maul knew it was no use to try to subtly argue and his master confirmed that without delay. "She only has to live long enough to sign the treaty."

"I understand, my master." And for the first time, since he can remember, he truly did. He knew what he had to do.

Maul, as always, kept his eyes on you from the moment you were led into the throne room in your usually complicated attire. You didn't meet his gaze though, probably preparing for the worse.

The droids surrounded you, with the two Neimoidians on Maul's right. They asked for your cooperation one more time. You refused.

Maul reached out and took hold of you with the force, finally making you look at him as he held your body immobile. He grabbed his lightsaber and ignited one of the blades, making his supposed allies nervously fidgety next to him.

Your gaze flickered to the blade too before you met his again with confusion. Then you felt it. The nudge against your mind, it was deceptively gentle but it made you gasp and your eyes widen and that was enough to fool your enemies for now.

Maul realised you didn't trust him, so he had to change his plans if he didn't want to risk you getting hurt. So his eyes flickered in the direction of the throne where he knew the guns were still hidden and he applied a little more force into his hold to let you know he will push you that way.

The four droideka were firing before their masters even realised what was going on. He dodged their shots whit his lightsaber, cutting down the Viceroy with the same swing. You quickly grabbed the weapon, using the throne as a cover and fired on the other droids and witnessed with awe as Maul sent two of the shielded droid out the large window, crushed another with a big piece of stone he pulled from the floor and simply crushed the last one with the force.

Despite the loud fight, you did not hear any reinforcements approaching so when Maul dragged the other Neimoidian from his hiding place you approached them and to your new friend's amusement didn't hesitate to knock the other male out with one punch.

Maul felt his hearts skip a beat or two as you smiled at him with gratitude. He felt himself to be in some kind of trance as he deactivated his lightsaber and stepped closer to you.

He wanted to reach out and touch you but halted as he realised that he would smear the paint he liked to refer to as your armour. You caught the hint of the smile he was trying to hide but before you could ask, he reminded you that your fight was not done yet.

The two of you went to the chamber that was used as a prison, freeing the pilots and guards and locking in the Neimoidian.

It was easy from then on, with the droid control ship gone so was the invading army.

Somewhere during the meeting between the remaining council members, Maul wandered away and you later found him lounging on your throne. You stifled a laugh and quickly stopped your guards from shooting at him, dismissing them stating that, "I will be perfectly safe."

When you look at him, he silently taunts you and you could almost hear the "Why are you so sure that you are perfectly safe with me." And you can't help but smile at that, looking at him with a similar expression that says "Comfortable?"

Then he stands before you in a blink of an eye, reaching out again but stopping this time as well. Only for you to take his hands, stepping a little closer.

Your smile fades as you realise. "You want to leave."

He shakes his head, looking away. "I defied my master, he will not forget that."

"So you just plan to be on the run for the rest of your life?"

Your anger takes him by surprise, he expected you to be glad that you don't have to deal with the political headache that his presence would bring. And he certainly not expected you to be ready to fight for him.

"You can stay here. If you want." The addition to the offer was not lost on him. So much has changed in such a little time span, he was free to choose what to do, and he wasn't sure how to handle this.

Taking his silence as a sign that he was thinking about it you started to think through the possibilities. "I am certain you can handle any assassin he would send and I doubt your mysterious master would come here personally..."

Your tone asked for confirmation but he just quietly huffed at the way you said 'mysterious' as one would call someone a coward or something equally insulting.

"The Jedi and the Senate will want my head."

He thought that was it, but again, it seems he underestimated your stubbornness. "Well, fuck the Jedi and fuck the Senate. They did not save us. You did."

"I also helped your enemies."

You sighed and let go of his hands to cup his cheeks like he wished to do with you countless times. And he felt his throat tighten not just at that gesture but because of what you said next. "Was that something you chose to do?"

He took a deep breath and looked down again, unable to meet your eyes. Unable to handle your faith in him. But you did not let him go that easy.

"Stay with me," you asked in an almost whisper, feeling just how fragile was this moment.

When he looked at you again he placed his hands on yours and you felt the now familiar push that meant he was trying to read your thoughts. You let him but you also said them out loud.

"Stay." You repeated. "I will protect you and you will keep me safe."

He smiled at that. It was little more than a hint of amusement but it reached his eyes and sight filled you with warmth.

You were so preoccupied with the sight that you did not realise he went a little deeper, chasing that emotion he felt from the moment you met but could never put it into words. He understood that you knew what it was but weren't ready to consciously acknowledge it yet, he would have to ask you later. Until then he might just get more comfortable with his other feelings and newfound freedom, he could live with this annoying little tug on his hearts and what one might call a soul for a little while. Only if it didn't get more bothersome every time you smile at him. Like now, when he returns your promise with a single word. "I'll stay."

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #darth maul x you #maul x you #maul week #maulweek2023 #my stuff #my fics

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reblogs-and-writings · 8 days

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Inspired by @chaifootsteps

Everyone's sending in their Hazbin character rewrites, and that looked fun so I want to toss my own hat into the ring. Sorry for the long post. What really bothers me most about Hazin Hotel is that it claims to be a show about redemption, but it seems to be a show about lack of consequence. The reasons why the characters are in hell are never really explained. There are things you can infer about certain people: Alastor's murder, Husk's gambling, Angel's drug use, etc. However, the show never explains why those behaviors are wrong and how they can improve. More often than not, those behaviors are used as jokes. It's funny to have a cannibal town. Angel Dust's name is a pun on the drug that killed him. It's just tonally very wierd to purport that anyone can be redeemed, ANYONE, even people in HELL, can be redeemed and then not continue that very messy and difficult ethical conversation.

Nifty is boy-crazy. Taken to its extreme, what can that mean? What causes attraction so vile it sends you to hell? Was she was one of those "Boy Moms" who excuses his son's horrid actions at the expense of women's safety? Did she cover up a rape her child committed, because Mother's special little boy couldn't possible do something so vile! Or maybe she didn't love her children enough. Maybe her obsession with "bad boys" comes from being forced into an extremely suffocating and unhappy marriage. Maybe she ran off with some 50s biker. Maybe she abandoned her children because she was too obsessed with being loved herself that she couldn't love her children if it meant not having a man's attention. Maybe her boy craziness evolved into a raving jealousy if she didn't get her feelings reciprocated. She's a maid, right? She wants things clean and tidy. Did she murder a man? Did she spend hours scrubbing the floor so none of his blood would remain? Then maybe her arc could be about loving herself and not needing a man to define her identity. Maybe it could be unpacking internalized misogyny and coming to terms with the real pain she caused other women.

Mimzy is opportunistic. She only comes around when she needs a favor. She has no loyalty and only uses Alastor to get her out of problems. Why is she like that? Who taught her that relationships were transactional instead of committal? Maybe she was once a naive young girl who got 'used' for something, and it soured her opinion on other people. I mean, she's plus-sized during the FLAPPER era, where thin was like 1990s level of in. But there's a lot of plus-sized women who talk about being some guy's sneaky link, because he wants to prey on her insecurity and get her into bed, but then never be seen with her, because she's not a socially acceptable dating option. Did Mimzy get her heart broken, and now she doesn't trust anyone? Now she just uses people for what they're good for, because hurt people hurt people, and she's continuing a cycle she herself was a victim to? Maybe Mimzy's redemption could be about letting people in, about not letting trauma turn her into a bad person.

Husk is an alcoholic and a gambling addict. Most people don't just pick up those hobbies for the fun of it. Husk is a miserable little man, and he was probably driven to drink because of his own unhappiness. He was pansexual in the 1970s, right? Maybe he couldn't accept himself or he was forced to not accept himself. Maybe he was forced into a loveless marriage, and he started to go out to the casino to get away from the wife and family he never wanted. But more and more and more he spends time over there, because he doesn't want to go home. And soon he becomes dependent on booze and gambling because it gives him a little joy in his miserable life. But addiction doesn't hurt just the addicted person. It hurts everyone around him. He starts skipping work to gamble. He loses his job. He steals money from his wife. He bets the car. Then the house. He leaves his family destitute, and he's convinced he's the victim because he never wanted to be a husband and father in the first place. When he dies of alcohol poisoning, his family doesn't even claim his body. His redemption could be about how when your own life sucks, it's not an excuse to hurt others. You have to find better ways to cope with a bad hand.

Angel Dust is too many things. He's a prostitute and a porn star and a gay man in the 30s and a gangster and a drug-addict. But if we were gonna try and make all of that make sense, Angel Dust is very family-oriented. He grew up in a mob family. Loyalty is EVERYTHING. So in his mind, killing people was a lesser sin than "betraying" his family by not getting rid of their enemies. His family is everything to him. So he can't be gay. He can't. He can't. He's SO repressed. He refuses to acknowledge it. He spends his entire, short life, trying to fit the mold of a perfect, loyal son. But… he did kill a LOT of people… So when he dies in some shoot out, he goes to hell, and he snaps. He did EVERYTHING he thought was right. He did everything his family told him to do. He was the perfect son, and when he dies he gets sent to hell. He immediately loses all inhibition. He's still a sex/drug addict, but only after he winds up in hell. He's going to spend eternity giving into every single base desire he denied himself while alive. It's destroying him. He's selling himself to men, but deep down he's still ashamed and wondering what his family would think. He drowns out those thoughts with more sex and drugs. Angel's redemption arc is about balance. Yes, he should have been able to be true to himself while alive, but complete indulgence is just as hurtful to him as complete denial.

Sir Pentious… why is he even in hell? I mean, he's a little annoying, and in the pilot he was involved in a gang war, but what did he do in life to justify being sent to hell? Well, he was a Victorian Englishman, so I'm gonna say racism! Horrible racism and colonialsim. He was raised in a time where those were the dominant thought patterns, and he did not analyze them one bit. Conflict can come when black-coded characters like Alastor and Husk expect to be treated like human beings. And Charlie has to face the difficulty of believing a person can change, but how to deal with the current harm they're causing the people she cares about. Maybe Sir Pentious isn't a recorring cast member. Maybe he came to the hotel because he thinks he should be in Heaven. He brought glory to the British empire. He was a kind gentleman. He donated to charities. But he leaves the hotel because he doesn't think "those people" are good enough for Heaven. He refuses to acknowledge his behavior as needing to be changed, but Charlie tells him there is a spot at the hotel when he's ready to change. His character is about how you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. He can be offered all the chances in the world to be better, but until he can come to terms with his own capacity for evil, he can't be redeemed.

Cherry Bomb doesn't exist, because she's a superfluous character that doesn't fit in my rewrite. Sir Pentious doesn't get a love interest, and Angel Dust's friend is now Vaggie.

No fallen angel crud. Vaggie was a prostitute that got murdered like Viv originally planned for her to be like 10 years ago. I think Vaggie shows some really codependent traits in the show. Charlie seems to be her entire world. She sings about being her armor. She's willing to put herself in harm's way to defend her, even die for her. She doesn't seem to care much about the other patron's of the hotel apart from them being facet's of Charlie's dream. Maybe Vaggie was one of those poor women who gets trafficked by their boyfriend (or maybe girlfriend in her case). A single person becomes her whole entire world, and she's willing to do ANYTHING for them. Even put herself in dangerous situations that lead to her death… But she did it for love! <3 She hurts herself for love.. for approval. And maybe the show can get into a conversation about what sin really is. So many people define sin as harmed caused to others, but what about harm caused to yourself? Viv originally stated that Vaggie's feelings for Charlie were one-sided, and I think that detail would be even more poignant in this interpretation of her character. She's trying so hard to be noticed and to be loved, and Charlie's become a goddess in her eyes. She puts her on such a pedastal she has no room for her own worth. Her arc is maybe a bit too similiar to Nifty's depending on how we choose to interpret her character, but it's also about finding identity outside of others and being able to set boundaries. Because loving someone and wanting to help them and wanting to protect them are not bad impulses, but like anything else, when taken to extremes it becomes something bad. Dependency can twist love into obession.

Lucifer is the Devil! He's evil! No sad-man, Dad-trying-his-best nonsense! He's evil! The big twist of Hazbin Hotel is that they're not in Hell! They're in Purgatory. There are no sins that cannot be forgiven, but sin can also not enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Purgatory is a place where your sins are burned away so that eventually you can join God in heaven. In Purgatorio, Dante depicts Purgatory as a place of effort. People are in constantly motion striving to get closer to heaven. Purgatory in Hazbin could be a place where people get a second chance to work on their vices. If they couldn't be a good person in life, then they have all of eternity to try again. But Lucifer, the prince of LIES, has convinced everyone they're in Hell. There is no redemption. There is no getting better. He causes the sinners to fall into a great despair. Why try getting better if there is no hope? So when people learn they're in hell, they dig in their heels. They lean even further into vice. They cannot experience love or laughter or joy again. So they settle for booze and sex and violence, anything to numb the pain of knowing they're trapped forever. But is a hell of their own making, little do they know. By tricking generations of sinners, not a single soul has redeemed itself and gotten to heaven in centuries. That's why no one believes it's possible. That's why when Charlie suggests it, he's furiously disapproving of her. He doesn't want people to get better. He doesn't want to improve. He wants everyone to be as miserable as he is, because misery loves company. But he can't tip his hat too much or the older souls might get suspicious. He is the Prince of Lies. His power comes not from strength but from manipulation. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. In Hazin, the greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing people there's no hope for themselves. I was once told that Judas's great sin was not betraying Jesus, but his own suicide after falling into despair. How glorious it would have been to go to a church named after Judas the Repentent. But alas, it is not so. The greatest sin you can commit against yourself is thinking you're too far gone.

And that's why I think Alastor is the central sinner to the narrative. Because he shares Lucifer's viewpoint. People can't get better. Nothing ever gets better. People are bad or people are good, and you can't be both. And who could blame him for having that idea? Let's just pretend that Alastor's lack of visual black-coding is because he is a VERY white-passing creole man. And because of that, he was treated so differently than his mother. And he was treated differently when people found out about his heritage. He became a big radio host. He was popular. He was famous. But he wasn't seen as an equal human being. He was a performer to be enjoyed, but never a person to be respected. He was "one of the good ones" at BEST. And he believed in the good of people. His mother was such a kind soul. She instilled in him that everyone has good inside of them. So he waited to see it. He waited and he waited, and he only saw increasing racism and violence towards his people. One day he just snaps and kills someone, and he considers it a justice. People like that are never going to change. The world is better without them. So he just keeps murdering racists until he gets shot in the head. And when he finds himself in hell, he believes even LESS in the good of people or God or heaven or whatever. If killing racists sent him to hell, then God is evil, and the idea of objective morality in and of itself is perposterous. Positioning Alastor as a vigilante killer would also make some of his comic depictions make more sense. Like he's a really nice guy to Rosie and other women, but he's also a violent murderous man. It's because he thinks people are good or bad, and if you're bad it justifies whatever he does to you. The cannibalism might also be like a power thing. Alastor's arc is about believing in Charlie's mission, genuinely. Eventually, it's not about watching people stumble and fall, because there's a cosmic humor to the cruelty of the universe. He starts to genuinely see people improve, but he fights against the idea, because his life was defined by static, perpetual, instituional evil. Maybe a soul gets redeemed before his very eyes, and he still doesn't believe it. Because to admit a human's capacity for moral growth is to completely restructure his entire understanding of the world, and that's scary.

Finally, Charlie. Princess of Hell. I've always been rather fond of Tolkien's sentiment that evil cannot create, only corrupt. So I don't think Lucifer is her real father. I think Charlie was like… a baby angel. And when Lucifer was leading his rebellion he stole children and forced them to fall to hell with him. It was just another way to bring misery, forcing the innocent to share the burden of his punishment. I think he got a sick pleasure from raising her. He "loved" her, or at least she thought he did. He was very, very good as playing Father. Prince of Lies and all that. He gets a chuckle knowing she's so happy here rotting in hell and has no idea what she's missing from her true destiny in Heaven. But that goodness inside of her can't be extinguished. She's an angel. She has a natural instinct to help human souls and fight evil. But because she was raised in Hell, she doesn't understand the complexities of sin that the elder angels would have informed her about. She's naive, and she certainly has to learn how to help guide people towards a brighter path, but she doesn't change her stance. So many times characters who believe in the good of people end stories with some pessimistic maturity where they realize that some people can't be helped. But Charlie doesn't change. Charlie stands firm at the end of the series believing that EVERYONE can be redeemed. It won't be easy, and you could argue it's not even fair, but she believes it. Lucifer chastises her, saying it'll take an eternity to change a sinner's mind, but she just smiles. Because an eternity is what she has, and she'll spend it helping people.

Also Chalastor is canon.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazin hotel rewrite #adam and lute don't exist because heaven is actually good in this rewrite #also the vees might exist but definitely not in the form they do now #the extermination is done by lucifer and the other demons #they get their kicks watching sinners scream and run and beg for their afterlives #it also causes a false sense of scarcity which makes them act even worse to each other

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 months

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DaveFarts - Episode 28 “Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer” [Episode List] Thanks to Dave and his farting skills, a certain ass-kisser learns the hard way that some asses can be quite dangerous.

POV: Dave

Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer

It was late night, around 2:30 AM.

I parked the car in the middle of a big parking lot just out of town, lots of trees and bushes hiding the whole place from the busier streets only a few blocks from us. I admit I felt a bit nervous for a moment, but overall I was quite confident everything’s was gonna go according to plan.

A co-worker from Dana (my girlfriend)’s law firm, a 30-something guy, is being, well, kind of a big asshole and, ironically enough, a big kiss ass too.

Now, I know my girl can fight her own battles, but I kind of had to step in once we found out that this guy was a slicker, selling confidential data to other law firms, basically hijacking every case for money. Also, he’s being a nuisance to Dana and other co-workers, going as far as framing them (including her) for whatever scam (or other bullshit) he was doing.

I’m not a vigilante nor I like the idea of being one, but come on, this guy needs to be taught a lesson. And since he always gets away with everything because he’s an ass-kisser, well… I thought it’d be fun giving him a fitting punishment.

Yes, I’m going there. You know what I’m talking about.

And you know what I’m capable of.

Also, I’m aware this is a very stupid and irresponsible thing to do… so it’s fun, right?

“He should be here any minute now.” I said, hands on the steering wheel.

I was wearing a black face-mask to hide most of my, well, face, the cold dark night hiding the rest of me.

In the last couple of days I’ve been messaging with this wannabe criminal, pretending to be someone interested in buying confidential data. Not rocket science, and this guy wasn’t a criminal mastermind… like he addressed himself as multiple times.

Seriously.

“Really, Dana? This is the guy?” I remember asking her a couple of days ago, with my girlfriend being as confused as me about how much of a kiss ass you need to be to even look like a competent person in front of your boss and co-workers.

“He’s an idiot!”

But now I’m here, waiting in my freezing car (I really need to fix the damn A/C) for this man to show up so I can properly give him a lesson.

You all know that I’m very good at this and I’m quite confident myself about my skills; still, I wanted to throw in some extra fuel, so I had some chips and a very tasty, spicy taco… which I actually needed ‘cause I was starving.

What’s nice about my talent is that my farts are not as big as they are because I have a weak stomach. On the contrary, they’re as huge as they come because I have a very strong one.

Your belly hurts after eating at BellTaco? Sucks to be you, because I don’t know what that is: it all gets nicely converted to gas, dry powerful gas that I can effortlessly get rid of as if I’m breathing (from my ass… ok, you get the idea).

Then yes, I will take a good shit after a while, I too am a human, but we’re not here for that.

All you need to know is that whenever I face-fart my bro Tim, as disgusting as that is, I’m actually impressed by how he’s able to endure it. Not all my farts smell horrible, I’d say that I can roar very loudly… without biting too much, or not as much as you might expect, especially considering that I can fart like crazy even without any “fuel”.

But when they do smell, unless you’re as strong as Tim, you’re not gonna survive them.

I won’t even need to face-fart you directly: my farts have a quite wide, high DPS AOE.

And to be honest, that’s what the food I ate is for: flavor.

Yes, that’s a sentence I just said.

I can always rip long, loud and big ones, and while they do smell… they’re easy to endure. But throw some beer or some junk food into the mix, then you’re up for a good time.

And again, unless you’re Tim, with “good time” I mean “your nostrils will burn.”

“Here’s our guy.” I whispered, my eyes glued on the figure approaching the car.

I signaled the man with the car’s headlights and he responded with a quick gesture.

He quickly got into the vehicle and looked at me, looking serious… but not serious on purpose: it’s as if he was trying his best to play the part of a shady businessman.

“Are you… Scorpion?”

I almost laughed like an idiot.

Yes, I actually used a code-name and I knew it was silly, but I wasn’t ready for how ridiculous that was gonna sound during the meet up. Thankfully, the face-mask successfully hid my cheesy grin, so my eyes could (tentatively) do the serious talk. To avoid any further risk, I simply nodded.

“Good.” he said. Then he proudly patted his chest. “I’m Dura Lex”.

I started coughing, a deft way to hide the fact that I was now laughing. What the fuck did I get myself into? Who’s this guy?!

“Are you okay, Scorpion?”

Somehow that didn’t kill me and I managed to get myself together, fully aware that I was looking and sounding as ridiculous as him anyway.

“Sure.” I simply replied.

“That’s a good meeting spot. The darkness shall hide our deeds.”

Please, stop talking like this.

“I got the documents, if you’re still interested.” he pulled out of his jacket a folder and handed it to me.

“You can keep it… Dura Lex.” I had to pause for a few seconds, and not for dramatic effect. “For now.”

“Come on man, my ass is freezing.” he lamented, in a more nasal voice than before.

This guy’s “shady criminal mastermind” facade sure wore off quite quickly.

“You’re freezing, Dura Lex?” I asked. “Do you want me to… heat things up?”

I went for “tough guy”, but I’m pretty sure that sounded “unnecessary flirty” instead.

“Get to the point, Scorpion!”

You only had to ask.

Eyes glued on him, my right hand on the steering wheel, as if nothing weird was happening, I broke the silence by producing a muffled, rumbly sound with my ass. I was wearing a pair of jeans, but no clothes can stop my gas from reaching your nose.

“Are you…?”

The man was baffled, confused, surprised. Truth to be told, I can understand that.

I can’t blame him… but I will blow him… err… blow him away with my farts I mea- never mind, you get it.

The fart was warming my seat up and my face mask protected me from my own stench (which I was immune to anyway). I still had my eyes glued on Dura Loser or whatever his codename was, waiting for a reaction, which showed soon.

A disgusted facial expression appeared on his face. “Oh m-my God.” he stuttered, he coughed.

I leaned a bit to ease the fart out, and it got louder.

“What’s happening, Dura Lex? Something bothering you?” I said, pretending nothing weird was happening, almost yelling, so he could hear me over my loud fart.

“You’re a sick person, Scorpion. I’m outta here.”

My first blast ended after like 6 seconds. It was loud, airy, disgusting… and it was burning my asshole a bit. Spicy food tends to do that, but that also makes the stench more nauseating.

The man was trying to hold his breath already as he tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Open this damn door!” he asked. Or rather, he begged.

“What?! Leaving so soon?” I replied, the mask hiding my smirk. “I thought a professional ass kisser like you would love this!”

I ripped another loud, quick rip, leaning a bit more, so he could hear it clearly. A taste (or a threat) of what’s to come in a few minutes.

“Would you please stop with those damn toots?!” he screamed. Never seen a person so terrified of my farts.

Also, that was very offensive. Dude, I'm barely getting started! I carefully stretched my right arm towards him, my hand now firmly holding his mostly bald head.

“You thought those were toots, Dura Lex?” I firmly asked.

Now he was the one nodding.

“My bad!” I slowly pulled his head towards my ass. I leaned a bit more so I could more easily plant this man’s face where he belongs. “Allow me to fix that with the next one.”

The man tried to resist but my grip was strong enough to keep his nose as close as it needed be, right into my ass, which started to roar as soon as I finished talking.

A loud, deafening fart instantly hot-boxed the entire car.

“Oh my God!” he screamed, retching over the stench that burned his nostrils. “Let me go you asshole!”

I could barely hear him over my fart. “Yes, that’s where this is all coming from! Of course a kiss ass like you would know!” and I pulled him even closer to my denim-clad anus.

Tim usually just stays there and takes it, because of his fart kink, but I was struggling keeping this man where he belongs, as I kept farting right onto his face.

After 12 seconds, my blast finally ended.

Actually, it stopped ‘cause I wanted to. I wasn’t done.

“So, Dura Lex…” I started talking, pulling his face up, out of my ass, so I could look at him properly. “What were you exactly gonna do with those confidential documents?”

The man looked more confused than nauseated. “What are you talking about?”

“Wrong answer. Enjoy kissing my ass.”

I pushed him down again and I immediately resumed farting, the blast being even louder than before, as if the fart itself was mad it got interrupted. 8 more seconds of pure flatulence Hell, as I could tell because the stench was now so strong it even got past my mask.

I once again pulled the idiot up, who at this point simply accepted that he was basically my puppet as he stopped fighting back, probably startled by my gas too.

“So, I’m gonna ask again: what’s up with those confidential documents?”

Dura Lex shook his head. “Kiss my ass, Scorpion!” he managed to reply.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to say that.” I replied. "Like, at all."

And again his face was planted into my warm ass, which I made sure it was sagging, his nose rubbing on my denim and my blue underwear, which only made the stench more unbearable for him.

“Well, now you’re in the position to say that.”

I ripped another loud fart, which was greeted with more retching from my newest victim. As much as the small space of the car let me, I tried to stretch me left leg up, easing the fart out, and also because so I could more easily glue this man’s face into my cruel, farting ass.

The spicy junk food I ate earlier turned my anus into a fire-breathing gas weapon. I gotta say, I’m surprised this man hasn’t passed out yet because even the car windows are fogging up.

I wasn’t instead surprised at all by how big my farts were instead. I told you I’m good at this.

It kept going strong, as if Lex’s face wasn’t even there. I gotta say: he may be a jerk, but he was taking it like a champ… if we don’t count all the annoying whining at least.

“What the fuck!” he tried to get away one more time, but I kept his face down there, where it belonged, so he could breathe all of my gas in.

14 seconds and the fart finally started to lose power. For him it must have felt like hours.

Again we did our little “dance”, with me pulling his head up to question him.

“Just tell me what I wanna hear, Lex.” I said, with an evil smirk he couldn’t see because of my mask.

“I’m not talking.” he replied.

“That’s wise. You shouldn’t speak when your mouth is full.”

I pushed him down again, firmly planting his nose between my asscheeks, only a thin layer of clothes protecting his nose and mouth from the deep burning Hell that my asshole was becoming. I ripped another fart, as loud as the previous one, but much shorter.

Indeed, a very loud toot, 2 seconds long.

Still holding his head still, I spoke to him.

“Say it!”

“No! I'm not gonna say any-”

Another fart silenced him.

“Say it!” I insisted.

“Never!”

“Congratulations then! You just found one ass you’d never wanna kiss!”

Another loud, long blast followed and rumbled all over this man’s face. I could do this all night: I knew I had gas to spare. He was gonna break soon.

I made his nose rub on my sagging clothes so much so that it lowered my underwear as well, so the jerk's nose was in direct contact with my bare asscrack, right as I kept blasting him, basically wiping my ass on his face, the stench of my gas being mercilessly shoved down his throat.

15 more seconds of loud noises, a loud chainsaw-like sound making the entire car shake. Then, finally, silence again.

“Just say it, you bitch.”

“Fine!” he whined.

I pulled him up, his face sweaty and as smelly as my ass.

“I’m selling confidential documents.”

“And?” I threatened him by pushing him towards my ass again.

“And I’m making sure my co-workers get blamed for it.”

“Clever bitch.” I replied, satisfied with the answer.

I vehemently pushed him back on the passenger seat, his back hitting the door on his side of the car.

“Did you get that, bro?” I said, looking behind me, towards the back seats.

My friend Tim, who was lying back there the whole time, hidden under a black sheet, revealed himself. To keep his face unseen, he chose to wear a lobster mask which, to be honest, looked unnecessarily terrifying.

“Got every word, chief!” he said, holding his smartphone up, which he used to record everything.

I stared back at the man, with a smug, satisfied look.

“Fuck off. Both of you!” he yelled, pointing at us.

“Hey. Manners!” I said, as annoyingly as I could.

“Fuck you!”

Alright. One final lesson.

“Do you know why they call me Scorpion?”

“What?”

I once again reached for his head.

“Come here!” I shouted, in the deepest voice I could make.

I pulled his face down and the moment his nose touched my ass, I blasted him with another loud rip, or ‘toot’ as he dared to call them.

It was short (for my standards at least, about 5 seconds), but dense and stinky. My asshole was burning.

Once I was done shitting gas, I shoved him back to his place.

“So…?” I asked.

“I’m… I’m just gonna leave.”

I unlocked the car doors so he could get the fuck out of my car.

“You ruined me, you… you gassy, sicko monster!” he yelled. “I’m gonna lose my job and my damn money you bastard!”.

“Aw…” I said, mockingly slapping his cheek. “You’re a criminal mastermind, Dura Lex, you’ll figure it out.”

Both me and Tim laughed at him and he left, taking the documents with him.

After a few minutes, once we made sure Lex left for good, my bro Tim got on the passenger seat next to him.

“That was incredibly stupid and irresponsible.” he commented.

“Awesome, right?” I replied, even though he was right.

“Totally.” he admitted.

We removed our ridiculous masks and I drove the two of us back home. I rolled the windows down ‘cause even though my bro had a fart kink… even him couldn’t handle the stench I produced.

“Come here? Really?” Tim asked, all of the sudden.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the reference.” I said.

“I did, that’s why I’m cringing hard.” he joked.

“Oh I know you’re hard.” I teased him.

He just remained silent, which I found hilarious as usual.

“Don’t worry bro: you’re still my favourite fart victim.” I teased him again, like the annoying bastard I am.

Tim laughed a bit, shaking his head, as if he was still in disbelief about me being so chill about his kink.

“I guess you just love destroying my nostrils then.”

I winked at him in response, a smug smirk drawn on my face. I leaned towards him and whispered:

“Clever bitch.”

The End

#eproctophilia #davefarts #fart kink #fart story #malefarts

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sullyfortress · 1 year

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Imagine Lo’aks daughter being the exact same as him and Jake, always finding ways of putting herself in danger. Lo’ak nearly pulling his hair out in worry and stress while Jake is laughing his ass off at how the tables have turned. 🤣

Ok so just some general headcannons

Pey Pey + Ziri relationships to the other Sullys:

Jake:

He loves that Ziri has a rebellious streak and Lo'ak is experiencing the same terror that Jake did raising him. Ziri reminds Jake of Neytiri alot. Jake also as we know is a girl dad and has a soft spot for his granddaughter which does not help in her discipline(Yes he calls her babygirl). He and Neytiri often get in trouble covering for her or teaching her hunting skills that Lo'ak thinks she's too young for. Also he and Tonowari definitely get competitive trying to proove who's the best granddad.

Pey Pey is Jake's little man. He is a silent shadow of Toruk Makto. It's not uncommon to see Jake walking about given instructions and orders to his warriors fighting RDA with Pey Pey on his hip.

Pey Pey loves to mimic his granddad and definatly got the need to please Jake gene from Lo'ak. Like many in the family, Jake is very protective of Pey Pey, as he does remind him of Neteyam. This leads to frustration from young Pey Pey as he is coddled more than his sister.

Neytiri:

Badass grandma to the max. She often will buck against Lo'ak an Tsireya and join sides with Ziri. Especially when Ziri wants to take a warrior route while Tsireya wants her to take more of a pacifist path. Neytiri helps Ziri connect to her Omaticaya culture.

Ziri also really wants her own Ikran like grandma so Neytiri insists upon taking her on a field trip to Ayram alusìng(Floating Mountains) to get her own Ikran. To which Lo'ak says no because they are Metkayina she doesn't need an ikran and Neytiri raises hell going on and on about how she won't deny her granddaughter her culture!!!

Neytiri has a special love for Pey Pey as his sweet disposition reminds her of Neteyam. She spends time teaching him to braid and bead jewelry just as she taught Neteyam.

Also her and Ronal also compete over being the best grandmother.

Kiri:

Kiri has a closer relationship to Pey Pey than Ziri. Pey Pey's calm and inquisitive nature means he himself is more curious about Eywa and the life on pandora. Also with him being deaf, connecting with ilu's and other creatures gives him access to senses that he's never had before.

Kiri has become a mentor of sorts to Pey Pey and teaches him much of what Mo'at taught her about medicine and spiritual intuition.

Tuk:

While wild in her youth, Tuk actually becomes the responsible battle aunt. Tuk grew up to be a powerful warrior in the Metkayina clan. She loves to play from time to time, but growing up as a child in war did leave Tuk to be a little more precarious. Like many in the family, Pey Pey and Ziri remind her of Neteyam and Lo'ak. Which means she cares very deeply and very muchy hovers over her niece and nephew. But she also knows that fun and play are important distractions from war.

Spider:

He's the crazy uncle who encourages Ziri's rebellious nature. He also has a soft spot for little Pey Pey and makes sure to include him whenever he can. Pey Pey likes uncle Spider as he is coddled less with him.

Ziri calls Spider 'baby uncle' due to his small human size.

*Neteyam* Spirit: (Same relationships if he was alive)

When they are old enough to connect to the spirit tree, the kids meet their uncle.

Ziri loves to hear stories from her uncle about the Omaticaya forest and about her family when her father was a child.

Pey Pey, can speak through Eywa and therefore has a voice that only Uncle Neteyam can hear. He often shares insecurities and frustrations that he is unable to vocalize with the rest of the family. Neteyam and Pey Pey understand one another best in the Sully family as both are reserved and often put the needs of others before their own, and had a desire to please their fathers but always feeling out of reach of approval.

Pey Pey also feels insecure about not wanting to be 'a warrior'. He very much connects more with the role of a healer and worries he will disappoint Jake and Lo'ak.

Neteyam comforts and relates to him as he was forced into the perfect son role, but isn't sure that was really what brought him joy. (in my canon, Neteyam actually loved beading and jewelry making and had a lot of anxiety connected to the perfect warrior role).

#avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #my art #jake sully #pey pey oc #ziri oc #neteyam sully #avatar #au avatar headcannon #kiri sully #spider socorro #tuk sully #lo'ak and tsireya future child maybe????#neytiri

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kwlsn · 20 days

Text

the apple of my eye . . .

r ⁿ o . . .

A big chunk of crystal-clear ice slowly melted into Rin's glass — distorting the image of a lady in red heels, sensing his gaze on her like a predator for tonight.

Some people may call it an obsession, but Rindou wasn't obsessed with you — he was reclaiming what his.

"It's been a while, cheater."

"Sugar, y'know it's not true."

He waved his hand, telling everyone to leave him alone as a group of girls at the corner caught your eyes — making Sanzu and his men have to drag them out by their hair when they wouldn't budge.

Rindou hooked his arm around your knees, pulling you close to him as you rested your head against his chest, taking the upper three buttons off as your freshly manicured nails made a trail along his tatted chest.

"Thirty-thousand for this? My baby is either dumb and got scammed or trying to squeeze my money off."

He wrapped his hand around yours, pressing a kiss on your wrist as his eyes made contact with yours — trying to get an answer out of you.

Even though you moved out of his house, Rindou still let you have three of his cards to pamper yourself — each of them was for different occasions and as long as you didn't return them to him, he knew you were still his.

He believed you were playing around this whole time, still feeling upset when a stranger tried to make a move on him a year ago and he didn't brush her off.

You kept your lips tightly sewn, avoiding the older man's sharp eyes as his grip got tighter around your waist — pushing you to the limit as you straddled his hips, pressing your lips against his.

"You taste like alcohol, sugar."

"The guy I made out with is a heavy drinker."

Jealousy was a word Rindou never experienced before because he felt secure with your relationship with him — but your little game was his last straw and being nice to you was out of the topic now.

"Get on your knees now, whore."

He watched you climb off his lap, sitting in front of him like a good girl he taught you to be — feeling proud of himself for succeeding in molding you into his little doll.

Spreading his legs wide, you kept your hands close to you and unbuckled his belt with your mouth — taking it off slowly as you could see Rin was already getting impatient that his veins were visible around his neck and forehead.

Pushing down his boxer, you looked at his size in silence — always having many thoughts on how he would fit it inside you today when you knew that he would never give you time to adapt with it.

Shaking those thoughts off your head, you took his tip inside your mouth gently — feeling how heavy it was on your tongue, swirling it gently around his head before pushing it deeper into the back of your throat.

"Good girl."

He groaned, slipping his fingers between your hair and turning it into a makeshift ponytail — biting on his lower lip as your lipstick left a stain on his base (not that he was complaining though).

The combination of your tongue and moan was enough to drive him crazy, pushing him to his limit and giving him more high than any drug Sanzu could get for him — you were his only addiction and if you ran away again like before, Rindou might have to imprison you inside his expensive penthouse like what Mikey did to his wife.

One last buck against your mouth and he let out a thick string of cum filling up your mouth as you swallowed them without a complaint, looking at him with a pair of doe-like eyes that melted his heart the first time he met you.

"C'mere, sugar."

He took off your clothes and threw your expensive pair of underwear to the audience on the dance floor, watching them going wild and trying to grab one of the pair.

If there was something Rindou always enjoyed whenever he was with you, it was having people watching him pounding you hard — filling you up to the brim, making sure you kept everything to warm you up inside.

Rindou gripped your waist as he watched how you tried your best to fit it in as his tip was already making out with your cervix and yet, it was barely halfway inside.

"Need help? Here, lemme."

He placed both of your hands under your thighs spreading them open as he slammed his hips hard into your — a wide grin tugging on his lips, watching people taking pictures and videos of how your bare pussy was currently bullied by his thick cock.

Looking at him with red cheeks, you glanced at his hand and then your currently lonely clit — wanting him to pay it some attention as he let out a chuckle.

"You're really a whore, hm? Mine only, of course."

As if it was a threat, Rindou pinched your puffed up clit between his fingers — rubbing and rolling it with his hand as he could feel you were so close, wall pulsing and clenching on his cock, begging for it to fill you up, breed you and have every see you getting claimed by the one and only Haitani Rindou.

"I-I'm cummi—"

As if it was a cue, your raw pussy finally gave up and covered Rin's table with your sweet nectar — giving him a little bit of taste how much you had missed his voice, his touch, his cock.

As Rin noticed how tired you were, he asked one of his men to bring in a blanket — covering your shivering body with it before telling the rest to kill everyone who watched him fucking you.

After all, you were the apple of his eyes — you were his only and belonged to no one but him.

#tokyo revenger #tokyo revenger smut #rin haitani #rindou haitani #rindou haitani smut #rin haitani smut #tw.voyeurism #tw.exhibitionism #tw.alcohol #tw.recording #tw.murder #tw.slut shaming

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inoreuct · 2 months

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More weretiger Zoro thoughts bc I'm crazy abt it-

Before joining the crew, Zoros had a lot of bad experiences with ppl trying to kidnap/capture him, whether it be for his pelt or to keep as a pet or just to have as a spectacle. When bounty hunters come after the crew one day and somehow manage to cage him, it dredges up some bad memories. He fights the hunters off of course, hes stronger now, and has his friends by his side, but the encounter leaves him shaken. He tries to brush it off as nothing, stays in his tiger form so he has an excuse not to talk to anyone, but the crew can tell hes feeling uneasy, sulking around in the shadows, fur bristling at any loud noises or sudden movements. They hatch a plan, and lure him to the kitchen where its warmest, where theyve built a nest of pillows and blankets for everyone to curl up in together, and surrounded by his crew gently petting his fur Zoro feels a lot safer <3

ooh,,, weretiger zoro lore YES PLEASE 🤭 thank you for the ask anon!!

call it twisted, but zoro is used to running for his life. fighting for it. before everything (before safety, before them), people catching a glimpse of him could only mean three possible things: a leash, a cage, or a skinning knife. years of evading trappers and hunters and rich bastards who thought they could own him (dead or alive, they hadn’t really cared) had honed his survival instincts knife-sharp and taught him how to keep himself out of trouble. he’s ever only been in a cage once, and never again.

but he’s gotten lazy. his crew and the solace of their ship on the open sea— they had lulled him into a false sense of security. he’d let down his guard and now he’s looking out at the deck through metal bars with clammy palms and his throat tight, and it’s chaos.

there are bounty hunters fucking everywhere, like a swarm of roaches trying desperately to gain the upper hand; they had clearly overestimated themselves, based on the way his crew’s wiping the deck with them. a thrill of vindictive satisfaction threads through zoro even as a group of the bastards prod at him with bayonets and swords. that satisfaction only grows when he snaps at them, snarling and baring his fangs, but he can’t hide from the fear that pools underneath.

that, he isn’t quite so used to. fear is not something that roronoa zoro feels on a regular basis; he’d picked up his swords and turned himself into a weapon of a man, half out of necessity and half just for the way people pissed themselves just hearing his name. then it had been bar fights to duels to bigger bounties and then sudden safety, stability, Merry’s gentle rocking under his paws as he prowled the deck and then Sunny, afternoon warmth on his fur as he curled up on the grass to nap.

the roiling in his gut and the tension at the back of his neck is something zoro hasn’t known since he was very, very young, and weak, and alone.

he snarls again when the tip of a sword swipes a hairsbreadth under his chin, cursing himself for losing his focus as he backs up against the other side of the cage, resisting the urge to peek over his shoulder. the ocean rolls gently at his back; he can hear her, but it’s a small comfort. if he tips the entire cage into the water and fails to pick the lock, it would drag him down to a watery grave and he is not ready to die today. nami yells somewhere, her voice followed by a crack of thunder, and zoro bites down a manic laugh as he remembers her trying to teach him to lockpick and him being honestly quite dismal at it— not an option, then.

the cook had fared better at it, nimble fingers and all that. said cook goes flying past with his leg on fire and slams his heel into a bounty hunter’s face with a solid crunch. as zoro takes stock of the deck, everybody else is busy and that realisation doesn’t make him panic a little, it doesn’t. breathe, he reminds himself. they took his swords, but it doesn’t matter. he fights plenty well enough with his fists, not to mention the damage he can do in his other form.

one of the hunters bangs his rifle against the bars and zoro’s heart jumps, a shudder rippling down his spine as the man pspsps’s at him like— like he’s a fucking cat. “who would’ve thought,” he begins, laughing nastily. “roronoa zoro, the elusive green tiger. how’s it feel to be backed into a corner, hm?”

“all those years of stealing our bounties, taking all the money— don’t worry, now,” another sneers. “you’ll make it up to us when we get paid for the fur off your back.”

the disrespect makes him growl, deep in the back of his throat. he wants to rip off their heads. he wants to run away and hide. their cackles are loud and obnoxious, and the closer zoro looks the more he realises that he knows these guys. knows their faces, anyway, and he has those faces categorised in his head as nothing more than riffraff. he wraps his fingers around a bar discreetly by his hip, squeezing tight until he feels his claws extend, and cool metal presses into his back as his breathing comes quicker.

once before. he’d only felt this once before, icy against his too-thin fur, curled up in a trembling ball at the corner as jeers and the banging of metal on metal filled his ears. switching between boy and cub on instinct because he couldn’t control it with his heart pounding hard enough to hurt.

his gaze flicks around unseeing before he finds usopp, loosing rapid-fire shots of something that sends his targets into violent gasping fits, clawing at their throats before going still. the moment they lock eyes, zoro straightens; there’s a question there, a quiet moment of stillness as usopp holds his form, waiting. do you need us to come get you?

zoro steels himself, takes a breath and grits his jaw, and he shakes his head minutely. no.

a small nod, and that stillness shatters. usopp dives out of the way with his hands over his head and a startled yelp as luffy’s fist flies out of nowhere, and zoro sighs through his nose.

“not my fault i was just better than you,” he says, offhand and unbothered, tipping his head back against the bars as he surveys the hunters around him coolly. they react exactly as he expects; loud outrage and yelling and more clanging around, and he feels that urge to curl into a ball and hide shift into something more spiteful. more vicious.

it heats his blood as he notes the lock of the cage and nearly raises an eyebrow, because of course the whole damn thing’s made of reinforced metal except the latch. he’s seen enough of franky’s work to know shoddy workmanship— they skimped on quality because of the cost, probably because they’d planned to be dealing with a mindless beast and not a man. zoro huffs a laugh.

and sure, nami could try all she wanted to teach him how to pick a lock.

sometimes, though?

zoro inspects his space and backs up as much as he can. the cage is small, but it’s enough. he’ll make it work. metal scrapes against the taffrail as the ship rocks beneath their feet.

sometimes, old-fashioned’s just the way to go.

he crouches down, waits for one of franky’s cannon’s to draw the hunters’ collective attention, and pounces.

the door slams open as he rams it with his shoulder, cheap metal snapping like straw as he bursts onto the deck and fuck, the momentary standstill before the panicked scrambling starts feels electric. he shifts in an instant and yawns, prowling around the group of hunters, crowding then back against the cage as his tail lashes like a whip.

they’d just caught him off guard and coerced him into an enclosed area. fools. he melds back into his human form, eyes glowing gold as the wind ruffles his hair. “you should have collared me,” he chuckles, just the slightest bit cocky because please, he’s earned it by now. “maybe a leash. rope, at least. what the fuck made you think just caging a tiger was a good idea?” zoro flashes his fangs, bright white and lethal, and a man whimpers as his grin widens.

his footsteps are silent as he shifts back and stalks towards them. there’s a reason he’s known as the demon of the east, after all, and he thinks it’s due time to give the world a reminder.

“so…” usopp begins, fiddling with a short piece of rope. “who’s gonna address the elephant in the room?”

luffy looks around at the bounty hunters sprawled over the deck, all in various states of consciousness. “there was an elephant?”

usopp holds in the urge to sigh and drags a hand down his face. “tiger in the room. whatever.”

their captain tilts his head. “zoro’s not here.”

“exactly!” usopp exclaims, before he checks his surroundings and ducks his head to hiss, “exactly.”

“he’s probably off napping somewhere,” chopper offers, but even that doesn’t sound very sure.

the swordsman had disappeared after he’d shoved the group of mauled bounty hunters into the cage and bashed the lock in to seal it shut before chucking the whole thing into the sea. he’d stayed just long enough to watch it sink and then crept off somewhere— and he still hasn’t reappeared.

“oh— you know what he’s like.” nami rolls her eyes, perched on top of an upside-down crate, arms crossing as sanji squeezes her shoulder. “he’s fine. nothing shakes him.”

“you didn’t see the look on his face,” usopp shoots back, feeling strangely defensive. he knew what zoro was feeling, read it clear as day; he was intimately familiar with the kind of fear where you felt too small and too trapped to do anything.

he knows about zoro’s past. they all do. and the thought of zoro, fearless, larger-than-life zoro, undefeatable zoro, crammed into a tiny cage and getting poked at like a zoo animal? it makes something in usopp rankle so strongly it surprises even himself.

he startles as a gentle hand rests on his back. “i do believe our sniper’s right,” robin hums, leaning into franky’s side. “we should make sure he’s fine, don’t you think?”

there’s a general murmur of assent, and usopp leans back against the taffrail with a feeling that it’s gonna be easier said than done.

zoro doesn’t remember ever being this shaken.

he’d just been… numb, when he was a kid. not yet warmed up to the idea, the reality, that he’d be hunted just for what he was. after that numbness faded most of what he’d felt was rage; he’d indulged the instincts to hunt, to sink his sharp edges into muscle and viscera, until luffy had earned his loyalty and then the rest of the crew after him.

now he can’t stop feeling like he’s gonna tremble out of his skin, and he hates it.

it’s been days since the fight. he shouldn’t be affected. shouldn’t have been affected at all. but now without the adrenaline of battle, everything’s coming back crystal clear— the panic that had nearly choked him when the cage door swung shut, the sound of the lock clicking bouncing around his skull like a rubber ball. his own blood rushing loud in his ears, heart thumping a staccato against his ribcage, his eyes searching for someone, anyone, shoved back by the gritted statement that he didn’t need anyone to save him.

he hadn’t. he doesn’t. he shouldn’t.

and yet he hasn’t shifted in days, prowling the shadows of the ship on four legs, head ducked low and ears pressed down as he keeps his belly close to the deck. he tells himself he’s hunting for imaginary mice and jerks at every sudden noise. he’d let his guard down and then he’d payed the price and now it’s driving him mad; every creak and shift of the Sunny has him on edge, fur standing on end, and he hates it.

without his battle instincts, he’d have been stuck in that fucking cage. usopp had snapped him out of it a little— he’d made it out, but barely. the stupid metal box had been so small that if he’d shifted he wouldn’t have been able to move, and even now the thought of it makes him feel like throwing up.

the feeling of being locked up is not one that you can forget. bravado can only get you so far; he’d been a fool to think that being part of luffy’s crew offered him infinite protection, no matter how strong any of them are. he’s supposed to be able to handle himself, and he can. he can.

he hates this.

he’s been wandering aimlessly, strolling around without particular reason. his crew’s been trying to get him out of his funk; franky made him a whole new scratching post. sanji’s been leaving his favourite booze in the crow’s nest. brook had played jolly sea shanties for hours (and admittedly, zoro had felt terrible about just slinking off midway) and jinbei had tried to talk to him, but he gave it up when zoro just gave him a look. he knows they care, and he loves them for it, but he’s oscillating between wanting to go on a rampage and hide in a cupboard. the promise of safety still feels too good to be true after a refresher on what the rest of the world means for him. he knows he’ll have to get back to routine soon and he will, he just—

his ears prick up, and he pauses. listens.

“—arimo!”

he chuffs. it’s nearly midnight; what the hell is the cook calling him for?

“marimo! get your mossy ass in here now!”

and okay, wow. rude much. he wouldn’t put it past sanji (or any of his nakama, for that matter) to try another funky attempt at cheering him up, but on the off-chance that there’s actually something wrong…

he growls low in his chest, half-annoyed, padding around the corner and shouldering the galley door open.

he takes one look and turns around to walk right back out.

there are pillows and blankets piled everywhere on the galley floor, and the oven door’s open. the whole space smells like dark chocolate and cookie dough. zoro can’t do this.

everything after that happens in quick succession: he hears luffy laugh, he thinks oh no, and then he yowls as he’s grabbed and yanked into the midst of the massive pile of bedding. he flashes his teeth in a baseless threat, whipping around to hiss at his captain, but luffy just snickers and pulls back his arms.

he’s disgruntled even as the rest of his crew slot into place around him. it was a trap, and he admits he’s literally fallen right into it as he hears nami whisper, “told you he’d come if you called—” and then the sharp, mildly reproachful click of sanji’s tongue.

the cook turns to him, cross-legged with a pinstriped pillow hugged to his chest. “you don’t have to say anything,” he says plainly, eyes flickering to the side as he fiddles with a corner of the pillowcase. “or do anything, for that matter. just… stay.”

zoro stays quiet and lets himself look around. everybody’s in their pyjamas, smelling like soap and chocolate; franky has a nightcap on. luffy shoves a cookie in his mouth whole, and jinbei pretends that he doesn’t nudge the plate closer for their captain.

zoro doesn’t need them, maybe. but he remembers years of irregular sleep from watching his own back, stuck in his human form, always hyperalert and pushing for the next paycheck.

he’d been miserable before them. he really doesn’t need them— he can survive just fine on his own.

but that’s all it’d be, wouldn’t it? surviving. not living, not really. he doesn’t need them but he wants them.

it’s easier to admit than he expected. nothing changes. it’s no big revelation; just one that he’d been too afraid to acknowledge until now.

the anxious feeling in his stomach has settled some, and soft chatter starts around him as he lays down to rest his chin over his paws. after a while there are fingers in his fur— he allows it. if only just for tonight. let us help, is what he hears as he feels nami’s nails scrape gently between his ears, luffy playing with his tail, the warm wash of lamplight making sanji’s hair gleam dark gold. brook’s laughing quietly in the corner, and he can feel chopper’s chest rise and fall against his side.

sleep comes easily, for once. these people, his family— they make safety a little easier to believe.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro #strawhat pirates #mugiwara pirates #ino writes #ino’s ask box #weretiger zoro au #putting him BACK on your dashboards

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