#my name may not be that hard to pronounce

[gierosajie]

I needed to redeem myself from that frankly embarrassing joke delivery in the faculty room back in Grade 9

#genshin impact #it's hard to do an accurate translation since it's a pun #but basically it goes 'maybe I should change my name to John Michael so that you know I'm there when you need something' #'nanJOHN' is a pun on 'nandiyan' which translates to 'there' #with the syllable 'diy'/'dyi' having the equivalent sound for the letter J #'MICHAELangan' is a pun on 'may kelangan' which translates to needing something #'kelangan' is a shortened form of 'kailangan' (or maybe an accent? Idk) and it's the closest to the 'chael' part in Michael #which is pronounced as 'kel' with the accent used #also adding on that this joke has a bit of a twist from the original #which went like 'my name is John Michael because I'm only there when I need something' #with implications that the speaker bothers others every time they need something and it's the only time they'll make contact #and that they're unreliable and can't pull their own weight #which is what always *clenches hand* annoys me when it comes to the rampant mischaracterization I keep seeing #doodles #the art drawer

[mysicklove]

Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.

cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.

big brother au masterlist

“Su-kuna!”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs. 

Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”

In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm. 

The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”

Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.

Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”

“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up. 

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.

The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”  

“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”

“Yuuji!” 

“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question. 

In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”

Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”

“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”

You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man. 

“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person. 

The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.

You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”

“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.

Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.

“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.

“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”

“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.

You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.” 

“Yes!”

“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”

Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”

“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.

You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”

“Why not?”

The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”

“And?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”

He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”

You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”

“You can't kick me out of my own room!”

You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”

The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed. 

When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”

“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. 

His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.

“Hm?” 

“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.

You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”

You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.

Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch. 

#mello.writes #big brother au #sukuna x reader #kid yuuji #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #yuuji fluff #yuuji tadori fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #female reader #f! reader #fem! reader

[writingwithcolor]

A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair

@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. I plan to make his character very finnicky about his hair, both enjoying styling it, but also often being unsure how to style it (not in that he doesn't know how to, but has so many options for how to style it, he has trouble choosing). However, I know that there are some very harmful ways to write black hair, especially in regards to how the black character themselves feels about it. Kazuki does not hate his hair, in fact he takes joy in it, and I'm researching black hair and hair styles to be as accurate as possible. But I'm unsure if portraying a black character as occasionally overwhelmed by or vain about his hair is negative. How would you suggest either changing this or making it work? Does it need to be changed in the first place?

Black Character Overwhelmed by Curly Afro Hair

Your Black character wanting his hair to look its best and at times feeling overwhelmed seems reasonable and natural to me. It appears their challenge comes with how to style it. Not so much with struggling how it looks or how hard it is to manage. That is good, as this further helps avoid placing a strong negative focus on Black hair. 

Him caring a lot about how it is style should not be deemed vain or frivolous, either. In any case, hair care is self care. There’s nothing wrong with having pride with your hair, especially hair that mainstream society, historically and present, might say is not beautiful. This still matters, even in a fantasy world, since your readers still exist in this reality. It’s empowering and a welcome change to see someone who loves their afro hair, actually.

There are unique factors someone with coily afro hair would experience vs. straight, wavy, or looser curls, but people struggling with their hair (too frizzy, too flat, too limp, too thin, too thick!) is universal. 

There is a delicate balance to achieve.

Avoid Writing a Black Hair Journey Experience 

An overall negative Afro hair journey might be the reality for many, especially when society deems Afro hair as unacceptable and slaps so many uninvited opinions, laws and policies over its existence and on certain styles (again, historically and very much at present), but that’s the kind of story that is best handled by someone with the background. Someone willing to commit to the research might also be able to pull it off, although it’s truly not the kind of thing an escapism novel needs in my opinion. If the story is not meant to delve into “A Black /Black Hair Experience” then I'd avoid going that route. That is moving a bit towards a struggle narrative, depending on how much it defines your character’s story.

Add positive and neutral hair language and interactions

For your writing, I’d avoid using unchallenged negative language about his hair. Being overwhelmed at times and frustrated is one thing and expected. If his hair is constantly brought up, and is associated with uncontrollable, ugly, or too [insert struggle here], then rethink the direction you’re going. 

Add some positive or neutral terms, reactions, and interactions in the narrative towards afro hair, such as describing color and texture.

“His fine coils bounced in the wind.” 

“Hair black and shiny” 

“She wore her hair in two large, fluffy buns.”

“He admired his fresh, neat braids in the mirror, smiling at his reflection, before turning to leave.”

Another tip: It may have been for research purposes, but leave out any hair number categorizing in the story and rely on description. I’d say this goes for any story, as reading the number would feel off. 

“He had coily 4a hair.” Nahh! :P 

Also, I would suggest sending all passages that focus on his hair to a Black sensitivity reader for review.

More reading:

~Mod Colette

#asks #black #black hair #hair #afro hair #description #tragedy exploitation #struggle novel #creator responsibility #representation #guides #writeblr

[ceridescent]

carribean summer heat — m., wanda

wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: it's a lovely sight to see wanda maximoff sweating and blushing due to the tropical heat. sometimes it's tricky, because one moment she looks like a baby, and the next, well...you could ask the particular group of people who...but you suppose not. it's impossible they could have seen the hot flush on her cheeks as she handled you then and there, out in the open.

warning/s: top!wanda, bottom!f!reader, dom/sub dynamics, thigh riding, dirty talk, semi-public, mommy kink, use of strap-on, creampie, & teasing.

word count: 4, 300

author’s note: hiiiiii hiiii hiiii i'm so happy i finally have some content to post on my rotting account. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ (i did have multiple drafts but i forgot tumblr existed 'cause i had off notifs the whole time since may.) it was a giddy, high school girl crush feeling of me to write this filthy fic. (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ i hope everyone's having a wonderful Hot Girl summer!! or a Hot Slutty summer, whichever you prefer. o(>ω<;)o

18+ only. men and minors do NOT interact.

masterlist | navigation

the sun rays barely strike your tanning skin, serving only as an illumination toward the breathtaking view of the caribbean sea as you situate on the patio.  

three ivory-colored recliner beach chairs are included in the rental villa, wherein you occupy one whilst the woman who flew a helicopter in saint-barthélemy island, makes piña coladas in the kitchen. a few hours ago you woke up earlier than her, and it was a relieving feeling, of hearing the rise and fall of her breath. a pink blush coated her entire face, unused to the tropical weather. hair stuck on the oval of her face, grinning at how baby-ish she looked. you didn’t bother rousing her though, as you were both selfish for being the sole witness of the rising sun behind the full glass window of the villa, and considerate to allow her more time to rest. 

not long after though, she woke up moaning your name, rubbing a whole limb on the empty space you left behind. 

“you left me,” wanda whined, her eyes glazed and her red lips pouty.

“they gave us fresh coconuts,” you purred, showing her the fruit. helping her sit up on the white mattress, you plant a chaste kiss on her cheekbone. this feels like a true vacation, you thought to yourself, appreciating the beach elements surrounding the entire villa, and the hard-to-miss view of the sea outside. although, the other thing that left you breathless was wanda’s bare breasts, the only clothing clinging onto her body was the thong she changed into right after she showered last night. 

you rested the open edge of the coconut in between her lips, “here,” tipping it upward so she could drink the coconut juice. wanda’s eyes fluttered close, a long and pronounced moan gracing your ears. she covered your hands with her own to hold the fruit, gulping the liquid into her parched mouth. she sighed as she finished, looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes. 

she suggested, “we can eat the insides for breakfast, honey,” bending low toward the bedside to fetch her matching bra. you blushed at the recollection of last night. “i’m sure they have some honey in the kitchen somewhere…” you added, watching the tips of her peaks disappear into view. 

wanda teased, “you like what you see?”, lightly slapping your face in the process in a playful manner. you tried to forget how her plump breasts felt in your hands as you suckled her dry, returning into the present moment of the beautiful day. 

“i would like to eat,” you diverted the topic back into the fruit in your hands, which wasn’t successful as wanda raised an amused brow, pursing her lips together to fight back a smile. you pointed to the coconut to counter her silent reproach, giving her a light blush. “get your head outta gutter, ma’am,” you said and retreated to the kitchen before she could come up with a witty remark, which you’d most likely shut her up with a kiss. 

wanda hums the tune from maroon 5’s sunday morning as she exits the indoor, clutching a wooden tray filled with food and replenishments. a board of charcuterie sits in the middle of the two piña coladas. you gasp at the precise detailing, “i’m not done,” blinking your eyes in anticipation, revealing a coconut with a straw strapped to the side. wanda caresses your hair, gives you a kiss on the forehead as you look up at her adoringly. “help yourself, angel,” she said before pecking your cheek. you mewl and melt at her service, appreciating the beautiful woman even more. 

the drinks are astounding, satisfying your thirst for something cool in this caribbean summer heat, as well as your insufferable stomach—literal paradise—blinding your attention away from the oval-rimmed eyeglasses, but most especially, her gorgeousness in a bikini. “is that-“

wanda maximoff grins like a cheshire cat, “yes, angel, it’s the one you picked for me!” sometimes wanda does it, she sends you a fitting room pic of her in bikinis—and if you were blessed enough—lingeries—needing a different perspective of what looks flattering on her.  

this particular bikini that clings onto her glistening skin is a green tie-front bandeau matched with a thin-string bikini bottom that leaves little to no imagination; highlighting the fullness of her hips down her voluminous thigh. her exposed tight stomach that has a small bruise on the side of her belly button, the heavy cups of her chest. you love how wanda never fails to wear something as if she was born with it and that it never leaves her skin. 

you don’t realize until later that your mouth hangs open watching wanda cozy herself onto the beach chair next to you, laying it all out for the sea to see. 

“oh,” you choke on your own spit, sight glued onto her cleavage. and if temptation could get any worse, sweat trickles down on the valley of it, getting envious (and more) of how close it is to where you want to be. stammering “you look-l-look-so look so marvelous, w-wan,” you gulp down your insistent saliva and grab the cool piña colada, biting hard on the straw as you sip in the flavor to replace the volcano on your tongue, before saying another that would jeopardize this peaceful, sunny day. (although it isn’t bad if it heads toward that direction.)

“you’re sucking so hard on it, princess,” wanda chuckles, “is it that tasty?” facing you now, leaning her weight against her right arm. her cleavage sag toward gravity, you fear it might actually fall off. short-circuiting for a moment, registering her question, her intention, and her innuendo. trying to calculate and rethink your response as you now, gently, sip the straw, sensing the coolness of your throat and skin, staring at the vast sea. 

you turn your gaze on her nose, so wanda would think that you are brave enough to have a staredown with her striking olive green eyes. then you take another hard sip, hollowing your cheeks in the process, at the same time moaning loudly, rolling your eyes back. “oh yes,” you sigh, “it tastes so good, wan! would you like some?”

she grins like a proud mother, “yeah,” reaching for the other glass but you swat her hand away. “nuh-uh,” you spurn, shaking your index finger whilst you stand up from the chair. you take three slow, deliberate steps sipping on the cocktail, not breaking eye contact with her. wanda watches every move in a relaxed position, however, her eyes carry primacy and eagerness—she’s like a hawk with it. 

you bat your eyes at her as you lower yourself down, dipping one knee on the beach chair in the open space of her glistening legs, at the same time resting the piña colada on the wooden tray. wanda scoots facing you, realizing what is up your sleeve. a shiver runs down your spine when she holds your love handles, positioning you in place. you swear to not have done anything but sit, like a moan, when she plops you down against her lap, her grip on your knees reluctant as if she’s trying not to clench on you too hard. 

wanda’s specs tumble out of place for a second ‘cause you clip the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear, taking your time. she whines, “i’m getting so thirsty!” jerking your body up and down, making your legs quiver, the friction of your cores heating your bundle of nerves. 

sticking an index finger against her complaining lips only to pinch her jawbone to force an opening, without saying a word, you connect your mouth with hers, slowly pushing out the piña colada into her “parched” throat. 

wanda flutters her eyes close and hums at the sensation, gulping it down, caressing your back in the process. sluggish and soft, fingertips against your shoulder blades. upward your hair, combing through them. and finally, your neck, massaging your nape in circular motions. 

when you pull away you return a soft smile, giddy and grateful, reaching for the glass to give her some more. wanda’s wandering hands begin to become playful, toying with your bikini strap, stretching the fabric just to let it strike your skin. you hiss, slapping her hands away, yet she reprimands you with a smack on the ass. you sigh in relief for not having anything in your mouth. 

more perspiration covers her milk skin, moaning at the liquid tantalizing her throat, and you who cannot help but bounce against her, the heat crawling through your body caused by not only the tropical heat of the island. 

“princess, wanda whines, pushing your hips hard to stop you from bouncing like a bitch in heat, “what is it?” acting as if she doesn’t know what you’re asking for. “do you want to ride my thigh?”

or maybe she does. 

nodding eagerly, you slide your hands over wanda’s arms to intertwine fingers, descending to land on her thigh. “don’t let me go,”

wanda shakes her head, relaxed, rubbing her thumb over, “how am i going to play with your nipples then, honey?”

that particular sentence made you grind hard on her, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. it’s all up to you though, so you begin to feel her voluptuous thigh at home between your legs, at home to be used by your needy pussy. “let me play with them, yeah?”

you allow wanda to let go of your hands, although it doesn’t stay dangling and out of place. she puts them around her waist, “there. so you have something to hold on to,” gathering your hair around her grip. “get on it, little girl. give me a great view.”

you do as told. 

somehow, you always need wanda’s approval and permission before doing something that includes her, because it’s different with her. you utterly have faith that she would keep you safe, because most exciting things are dangerous. you become your truest, unapologetic self with her, dependent and clueless. wanda adores it, serving you, treating you like a princess. 

hoarsely, “there we go, nice and slow for now, huh?” wanda stares at your whole frame, your legs automatically spreading wider, draping over the chair. she bites her lip, dragging her fingers over your thighs, as you increase your pace. you squeal, pressing your clad pussy against her thigh, “that’s what i’m talking about, baby. make yourself feel good for me,” whilst wanda encourages you with hunger. 

you whimper, watching her watch you. blood rushes into your cheeks, bowing down to relieve the tension of being under wanda’s gaze, still unused to the pierce of her green eyes. you only look back when she begins fiddling with your top straps, teasing you with her next move. 

you believe you know what’s about to happen and yet she lets them go, cupping your tits with her hands, kneading them into her calloused palms. you topple over at the pleasure, and she holds you up with your breasts, almost crushing them. the action causes you to let out a high-pitched whimper, casually rubbing yourself to take off the insufferable itch in your clit. 

“oh god,” you sob when wanda pries the cups open without taking the top off, only setting them aside, as if she’s washing off sand from a seashell with her slender hands. “oh, oh!” feverishly you buck your hips, and “wanda!” a scream follows as she steps on her heel, her thigh going on a slope. 

“that’s my pretty girl,” wanda husks, “keep moaning for me,” encouraging you. a simultaneous long moan erupts from both of you as she pinches your peaks, rolling them in between her fingers. a hungry grunt vibrates through her before diving into your tit, sucking it full with her mouth. your hand goes straight through her blonde hair, gripping it through the scalp, and then her shoulder where you find better leverage. 

“that’s it-“ wanda huffs, “g-good, good, my good girl,” lost in the pleasure of sucking your chest. “yeah baby come for me-“ 

wanda guides your hips, setting a quick, solid rhythm. she pulses her heel up and down, and then it hits you,

“come for me, pretty girl. come for mommy-“

screaming and thrashing on top of her. 

you crash against her chest, quivering all over, moan after moan tumbling out of your mouth, your hips still moving but at their own accord, with wanda’s hands resting on your buttcheeks. wanda hums when you quiet down, the vibration reaching your nipples, grazing you with a scream, cum dripping out of you. “dirty,” you mewl, referring to your soaked and sticky bikini bottom 

wanda groans, “all mine,” palming your pussy through it, shoving her lips onto yours. you happily obliged, probing your tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted. massaging them together, suckling, and then nipping her lower lip, brushing your noses together. 

“mhm!” you squeal as you pull away, giving wanda a radiant smile. she pinches your cheeks and pecks your nose. “okay then!” she claps her hands together, an eager woman with a plan. she kisses the side of your neck just below your ear. she pulls you away from her, settling you down in between her legs.

she gets up, get cozy, princess, mommy’s just gonna take something inside, okay?”

“mommy,” you whine, “can i come with?”

“no no, princess. it’s a surprise for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it!” and then she’s gone. 

you probably should have added “please” then she would’ve surely brought you in with her. but you do entertain yourself with the little time alone: rearranging glasses back in place, disregarding your wet bottom because wanda would take it off as usual, and finish the cocktail. you also spooned a bit of the coconut’s inside. 

a loud chatter pulls you away from your little bubble, a group of people jet skiing echoing through the space. multiple arms wave in your direction, a booming “HELLO” as you wave back, blush coating your cheeks. you push your legs tight together. realizing the openness of the patio, you make a double take behind the place wanda has disappeared off, knowing that there’s more to come out of after your stunt, and most especially that you have brought her dominant side out here. 

you drink wanda’s piña colada to pacify your nerves. 

wanda isn’t scary, per se, she just gets super duper mega hot and towering—sometimes to the point of la petite mort—but this time the possibility of somebody else kayaking their way into your location makes you palpitate.

kayaking, the deliberate effort of rowing through this calm ocean—the agonizing trail of the canoes—it is something worse than a damn jet ski. this is driving you crazy!

“i’m sorry for the long wait, my darling. mommy couldn’t find it for a while ‘cause she’s thinking about you…”

you take a huge gulp, refusing to look at what's behind you. a hand ghosts on top of the beach chair. “it’s okay, wanda, i like the view here…”

“i know, princess. but it’ll look nicer if you see what mommy packed for you!”

this is her cue to come forward, blocking the peaceful view of the sea, showing her thick strap. you roll your eyes back, trembling all over, making her chuckle at the expected reaction, taking your hand to stroke her cock. 

“i love the sound of your whimpers, baby. shows how much effect i have on you,” wanda husks, her desire of giving it to you palpable, because she dirty talks her way into your pussy as she does so. you gasp, “it’s big,” gripping the tip, feeling the faux veins coating the shaft. “you can take it, princess. i know it.”

“i don’t think so…” you dissent, shaking your head, at the same time anticipating it. but surely you can’t take it in you, it’ll hurt so bad. wanda shakes her head and palms your drenched clothed pussy before setting it aside. 

she puts a finger in without warning, making you arch your back, a cry “mommy!” leaving your shocked mouth. 

“now you’re calling me mommy,” she gives you a disapproving look, but urges you on smiling at the motion of you sucking her middle finger in fully without resistance. “i knew you’d be so wet, so i didn’t bring any lube.”

wanda takes her finger out and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of your cum. “mmm, i might just have to eat you out instead. would you want that, my princess?”

you nod your head rather aggressively, your face contorted in desperation. anything not to take her monster dick. however, wanda must’ve noticed your not-so-subtle calculation because she changes her mind, shaking her head, trying to hide her cheshire smirk. 

“no,” she hum, “i think my tongue can wait for this sweet pussy. ‘cause then what’s gonna keep my baby girl’s boobs occupied?”

a squeal leaves your mouth as wanda drags your legs to the edge until it’s draping off the chair. you stick your legs together in the wind, your cum glistening on your pussy. wanda traces the slick that coats your inner thigh, just to get a rise out of you. she bites her lip in anticipation as she lubes her cock with your pussy juice, rubbing the tip over your clit. 

“fuck,” she moans, “listen to it,” slapping it the toy against your pussy. “mommy,” you could only respond, already over the whole teasing fit. “please!”

“please what, princess?”

“plea-pl-“

she chuckles. wanda groans as she lines her cock in your opening, “use your words, darling. makes it easier for us,” waiting for you to vocalize. 

you fling your hand forward to intertwine them with hers. “please fuck me, mommy. pleaseplease fill meplease!”

wanda whimpers.

“that’s my good girl.”

she enters you slowly, encouraging you to take deep breaths as she spreads your hole, tearing you open to get used to the size. your brows knit together at the sharp pain, mewling at the sensation. wanda peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, distracting you from the initial process, “hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, mommy’s here–mommy will take care of you.”

your “thank you” gets swallowed by her lips, capturing yours in a languid tango, firm and warm in the tropical heat. your eyes flutter close alike battling sleep as, fighting the urge to just stay open because if you stare long enough at wanda’s eyelashes, you would be able to count them, but you settle with feeling it caressing your cheekbone. she breathes you in with each inhale, her hands coming to your cheeks to get a hold of you even more. you let out a keen for the numerous times she bites your lip, sliding her tongue in when you moan at the first thrust. 

you break the kiss, “mommy,” giving her a pleading look. “please.”

she presents you a peck and nods her head, “oh yes,” beginning a pace. “is that okay, princess? does it hurt?”

“little only now, mommy. i like it,” you reply, taking her tongue in yours again. 

“yeah?” she pulls away from the kiss, “you like mommy grinding down on you?” pushing in her length harder, her pace controlled. you hear the beach chair thud against the movement. your tits bounce at the same time, whimpering, tugging her hand, “faster please-“

“no, no. mommy’s gonna take her time, my love. i need to feel every inch of you before we get back. fuck! i’ve never fucked you in a bikini! it’s been in my bucket list for months now and i could finally-!”

wanda finds her pace, a grunt leaving her, pumping deeper into you, “-do this!” a cry leaving your swelling lips as your back arches in the process, her cock stuffing you full. “thank you, feels so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back, seeing the blue of cloudy skies. you think you begin to drool. 

wanda makes an incoherent statement, her lower lip bitten to hold back her moans. a bucket of sweat forms on her forehead, little bubbles that slide down through her forehead and blushing face. her hair tangles in knots like a wet mop, clinging against her back. 

her hands slither through your body, tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your belly button. “you’re welcome,” she sighs, “anything for my favorite lady,” whispering over your ear, her hot puffs making your spine quiver. she nibbles your earlobe. 

and your neck, sinking her teeth into flesh, planting a bruise, gripping your waist tight to pull you forward to meet her pounding. “ah fuck, wanda!” you yelp, as she stretches your pussy hole open and full. bucking her hips with no abandon, chasing that high that belongs in between your legs, her primal urge to please you—to hear you scream her name in your favorite vacation spot—to make you come apart only for her to build you back up. 

“oh baby, uh,” wanda keens, clipping her hair out of the way of seeing you fucked out, “play with your tits, y/n. come on, please! show me your pretty bits,”

a high-pitched moan sounds out of you from wanda’s desperation, mimicking her movement a sex ago, setting your cups to the side. your fingers shake as you pinch and roll your nipples, your moans getting higher and prolonged the more you tug at them. your whole body spasms, thrashing under wanda who makes it her life’s mission to make you come around her cock. 

you hear her chuckle close to your ear, licking a column of your neck, peppering kisses down onto your chest, replacing your fingers with her lips and tongue. 

“so hard, so ha-“

“harder!” you sob, jackhammering your hips to meet hers, every snap ending with the sound of your juices thwacking around wanda’s big dick. 

“hey, hey, princess look,” wanda slaps your face lightly to catch your attention, at the brink of tapping out, your brain unable to cope up with the situation anymore. you push your hoods open—screaming at the shock—the sight of wanda’s bare breasts bouncing up and down, looking so supple and fresh. 

“mommy,” you whine, “i wanna suck you,”

how you managed to let that out you don’t know. 

wanda whimpers, “oh baby,” purring as she downs her pace, “here princess,” taking one tit and holding in front of your mouth, “suck mommy good yeah?”

you only nod your head, speaking less to more. your mouth envelops in the hard peaks of the older woman, flicking it with your tongue before you actually suck it. wanda lets out a shaky breath, “y-yeah princess. be a good girl for mommy-“ driving her cock in your wet cunt in one swift thrust, frantic to hear you once more. 

“y/n!” wanda writhes, the only leverage she has over you is her hands clenching your sides, “fuck fuckfuck me- mommy’s so close princess-!” screaming along with you.  

“mommy, mommy,” you slur, attempting to wrap your legs around her waist but it’s too imposible with the energy you have. although wanda takes notice, helping you, wrapping one leg around her, whilst the other takes your hand the way you intended to in the first place. “yes, princess. mommy’s clo–come with me, please? come with me m’kay?” 

repetitive words tumble out of wanda’s lips with the way her mind untangles as well, lost in the pleasure of having you fucked brainless. her tit falls off your mouth when you fling your head back, nearing into your climax. one more thrust—

a familiar loud chatter enters your hearing, pointing toward your direction, wanda noticing the same thing as she pauses for a beat, and before shame could creep into your head, she jolts her hips recklessly, fucking you with a few visitors. 

“fuck yeah? we got an audience, baby. better give them our best sho-“

wanda chokes out a sob the same time as you, convulsing and trembling together at the climax. multiple expletives grunts out of her filthy mouth, complementing your sputtering. 

wanda screams the same time as you do, crashing together. multiple expletives come out of her filthy mouth, complementing your whiny sounds. 

“m-mommy!” you whine, drool dripping out of your mouth, “please–“ wanda grinning down at you, the loud chatter that once was powerful now weak and non-existent. “yes princess?” she purrs, washing the orgasm out of you. “i think you made them shut up, baby,” she chuckles breathlessly, her face red and wet. “but…we’re not done yet.”

you whine, exhaustion already painted all over you. “nope,” wanda pops the p and fixes your disheveled hair. you look so fucked out, not even a workout excuse is going to hide that. 

“i just…” wanda takes her time to come up with something, a sugarcoated truth, maybe? or a white lie?

“…i wanna put all my cum inside you,” she lets out quietly, batting her eyes at you. 

you cry with your legs spread open and shaking, ropes of cum filling your pussy hole. wanda giggles and moves her cock in a sensual pace, making sure nothing goes to waste. 

“i’m so full mommy!”

“so full of my cum! how does it feel being filled with cum, huh, princess?”

you can barely open your eyes at this point, but wanda insists, slapping your face lightly to catch your short attention span. “you like it?”

“yes, mommy. makes me wanna suck you,” you whimper as wanda moans. “i’ll fuck my cum in you some more and then i’ll get to fuck your face?”

“yes, you offer breathlessly, drifting off. she takes your chin so you could face her, “no, no,” giving you a demanding look, “yes what?”

she puts her thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck. “yes, mommy.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wlw smut

[storydays]

Brozone Random Headcannons

So I've seen the Trolls Band Together 3 times and counting and it was so good! So to get back in the groove, and after having some kind words come my way from multiple people, I really appreciate you guys! I'm gonna try a new writing style. Now remember, these are simply my opinions :)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

John Dory:

*Okay, so it is canon that Branch is 24 in the Trolls 3, which makes John Dory about 44.

*Nickname(s): JD, John

Fav color: Aquamarine and Green

Pronouns: He/Him (He supports, but is comfortable as himself)

He also gives me aromantic vibes, because like throughout the movie, he was really nonchalant when the romance bits came up, however subtle they are, he didn't give a damn lol.

JD is giving big Aries vibe with how confident he can be, pretty cheerful, and gets frustrated by tiny details, and unnecessary interruptions.

Bruce:

Bruce is the second oldest at 40

BIG Scorpio vibes!! He's strong (Y'all, have y'all seen how easily he lifted Branch when they first met) and hella independent. He was the first to question John Dory before their show, he was even hesitant to leave Vaycay Island before he sang with his brothers.

Nickname(s): Brucie, I feel like Brandy calls him that to mess with him or when she wants something. His brothers' (mostly John Dory and Clay), call him that to make fun of him as well.

Fav Color: White

DO NOT TOUCH THIS MAN'S HAIR!!!!! He will sic his kids on you and show no mercy.

Pronouns: He/Him (He's a huge ally, but he's also proud of himself.)

He loves experimenting and competing in the kitchen with Brandi, forces his brothers to try their food, and chooses whose food is going on the specials board.

Clay:

Clay is giving major middle-sibling vibes: at 35 years old.

Pronouns: He/They

Clay is non-binary and wears androgynous clothing but prefers their sweater romper and wristbands.

Nickname(s): Claybo (Viva calls him this to playfully annoy him), Clayton (Bruce and JD called him that as a kid, usually copying their mothers and grandma when they would scold him; but now call him that when he's overworked himself and they have to physically drag him to bed to rest.

Fav color: Green it was pretty obvious in the movie bc originally it was yellow when we first met him as a teen, but then we meet him later and it's green, and their whole outfit is green.

Def a Gemini! They're such a playful Troll, despite how serious he may act. But as he stated before, put some respect on his name bc they're a licensed CPA, fool!

Clay's favorite snack combo is:

Fries and a vanilla milkshake! He loves dipping the salty fries in the sweet vanilla.

They talk in their sleep, mostly about tax evasion and hot chocolate?

Hates doing their hair, Viva has to wait until he's sleeping for her to brush his tangles out.

Floyd:

Floyd is the second youngest at 32

He's such a Pisces! He's so empathetic, compassionate, and oh, so sensitive.

Pronouns: He/Him

He and Clay definitely go all out for Pride (Bc Trolls are literally all spectrums of the rainbow! We learned that in Trolls 2! It'd be impossible NOT to have a big party for Pride), and drag their brothers and are literally so hype at the whole event and crashes MEGA hard the next morning and sleeps for a good 12 hours.

Floyd remained friends with Veneer because, c'mon they were vibing. He could see Veneer wanted someone to see him, so he convinced the Mount Rageous police to let the twins out for Pride.

Had a long talk with Velvet and helped her to see the error of her ways, and she began to be nicer to Veneer and listen to him.

Fav color is Black. He knows he slays the Rock Troll look.

I'm gonna settle this once and for all: Floyd is gay. The one earring in his right ear is a shout-out to his voice actor who is an openly gay singer.

Nickname(s): Flo (I feel like Branch couldn't pronounce Floyd's name yet when he was just learning to talk, so he called him Flo and it stuck.) Floydie (when his brothers tease him about his crush that he refuses to name.)

The hair in his face is like a comfort thing for him. He knows his hair is soft, and when he's bored, he plays with it, and twirls it around his fingers.

Floyd definitely has a collection of journals, from his songwriting to venting his feelings, and even (poorly drawn) doodles of his family.

Branch:

He is the youngest at 24 as stated earlier.

Pronouns: He/Him

Fav color: Midnight blue like his hair

This dude is hella smart; like has a super high IQ, but is super chill about it.

He and Poppy are that meme: Tired X Energetic on a level 10!

Nickname: Branchifer (Poppy calls him that when she's calling him out on his attitude or when she's about to start teasing him.)

Def an Aquarius: highly intellectual, creative, and likes to join in on social interactions when it's on his time. Poppy learned the hard way why she shouldn't force him to join in.

Similar to Floyd, he was a bunch of notebooks filled with songs he'd written.

Branch is shy when it comes to family PDA, like if his brothers were to group hug him, or if they tried to mother him, and gets especially prickly when they baby-talk him in front of others.

This dude is the prince of sarcasm, clearly picking that trait up from all his brothers. Like bro, why are you so sarcastic?!

Is undeniably the most sarcastic of the brothers. (His nieces and nephews start to pick up on that, much to Bruce's horror. Brandi thinks it's hilarious.)

Doesn't really like kids, but absolutely adores his nephew Bruce Jr ( I mean he loves them all, but has a soft spot for that boy.) Bruce Jr is autistic and nonverbal and struggles to communicate. I believe he uses TSL (Troll Sign Language), and when Branch learns this, he starts signing fluently with his nephew, surprising everyone, especially Bruce Jr, because not many people can sign so fluently, but then Branch explains, that he learned when he was younger because you could go deaf at any moment and it's such a useful skill.

Bruce Jr shows Branch his blueprints that he's made and honestly, if they wanted to, they could take over the world.

That's all for now! Let me know what you guys think!

A big shout out to @vacayisland appreciate you! This one’s for you 🥰

#brozone x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #headcannons #branch #john dory trolls #clay trolls #bruce trolls #floyd trolls

[vivid-ink]

"Show Me & Teach Me"

Part II - "I Like Your Stars Better"

Neteyam Sully / fem!Omatikaya OC Part II Summary: Seyla reflects on being designated tsakarem and Neteyam finally gives her her first lesson in and first taste of sensuality.

Content: SMUT 18+ MDNI, angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman. Show Me & Teach Me: Part I here

Part I Fic Summary: You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training? What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

Word count: 6.8k

Notes: Welcome back to all my lovelies who followed Part I and hello to everyone who is new onboard! :) You'll notice a change in POV in this part. I wrote Part I in second-person POV using the pronoun 'you' as the reader. For stylistic purposes, and also for ease of getting multiple character perspectives, I have written Part II from third-person POV using my OC's name Seyla. For those that enjoy Neteyam x Reader-Inserts, you are still Seyla! Her perspective is still yours, just as I hope anyone reading it in third-person is able to still connect and feel what Seyla feels. Without further ado; ENJOY Part II! There is a whole lotta SPICY HEAT in this.

The tension in the healers’ hut was thick enough to slice.

Seyla swore she could feel the heat of the other young woman’s glower blistering the skin of her turned back. Any hotter and her waist-length braids would catch fire. The jarring clack of a knife striking unforgiving and hard against a wooden chopping board was just another addition to the already edgy atmosphere. Seyla sighed with a silent roll of her eyes. Would this tantrum never end?

The pronouncement by Mo’at and the clan council that she had been chosen as tsakarem had been met with positive endorsement by most people. There were some who still held reservations for various reasons. Some still doubted her capabilities, which was fair considering how long it had taken her to pass her rites of passage. Others felt she was too timid to lead the clan as tsahìk. However, Seyla knew that for the woman who sat violently obliterating fruit behind her, it was pure, undiluted envy that instigated her opposition.

Vitani was Mo’at’s other young apprentice. There had been an unspoken assumption for a long time that it would be Vitani who would be designated as tsakarem. Seyla herself had believed this, never thinking for a moment that she would even be considered for the role. But evidently the tsahìk had more faith in her than she had in herself and she was determined not to disappoint.

Seyla acknowledged that she was quiet, but her silent nature did not mean she was weak. She just needed to learn to be more direct, and what better time to practise this than the present?

“Is everything alright, Vitani?” Seyla called nonchalantly over her shoulder.

The harsh chopping ceased for several moments before it resumed with renewed vehemence. Nevertheless, Vitani answered in a tone that oozed with derision, “Yes, things have never been better.”

Stopping her own task of peeling some yalnabark tubers, Seyla turned to face Vitani, meeting her peer’s scowl head on, “You had better take care or your fingers may end up severed alongside the fruit, sister.”

The knife clattered against the board as it was released carelessly from Vitani’s hold, “What? You think that because now you’ve netted a big fish you can boss me around?”

Seyla fought the urge to shrink under Vitani’s piercing gaze, but she refused to back down, “My concern for you was genuine.”

“Tell me, sister, how did you lure him in?” Vitani jeered, leaning forward with her elbows perched on each of her crossed knees. She folded her hands and rested her chin on them in a mock display of interest, “Neteyam is quite the handsome catch.”

Narrowing her eyes and pinning her ears in irritation at the other woman’s blatant objectification of Neteyam, Seyla hissed, “Neteyam is not some prized object. He’s a person. And it was not his decision alone to make me tsakarem.”

“No, but I’m sure he could have objected if you didn’t appeal to him.” The cock of Vitani’s head was scornful, “So how did you do it? Training you must have been a painstakingly slow ordeal, and I’m sure it isn’t your mute nature that charmed him. Unless, perhaps, your muteness was productive and you used your mouth in other ways to win his favour.”

The lewd insinuation was scandalous and Seyla sucked in a harsh gasp, “How dare you!”

Vitani cackled in malicious glee at getting a rise out of her, “Is that how you repaid him for your lessons? In carnal favours?”

“I did no such thing!”

By Eywa, Seyla could not comprehend how Vitani ever thought herself worthy of being tsakarem with so much bitter animosity in her heart.

At first, Seyla had felt bad and she had understood that Vitani felt slighted. She had tolerated the woman’s sour mood and astringent demeanour, believing that the storm would pass in time. However, it had been weeks now and Vitani only seemed to be getting more hostile.

With a scathing snort, Vitani flicked a stray fruit peel from her shin onto the mat and simpered, “Ah, there’s no need for that level of affront, sister. There’s no shame engaging in such activities. Men are all the same, no matter their station. All easily led around by what’s behind their loincloths.”

Seyla was about to retort that it was not the implication of sexual activities that angered her, but the insinuation that she had only got where she was by engaging in them that did, when the firm clearing of a throat stopped her in her tracks.

Neytiri appeared from around the cloth flaps of the hut’s entrance and while she made no remark, the dark expression she wore and the impatient flick of her tail behind her was sign enough that she had overheard their heated exchange. Vitani blanched as if she had seen a ghost.

Padding into the hut on silent feet, Neytiri was the physical embodiment of grace, as always. Her critical eyes settled on Vitani who immediately dipped her head in respect. “Vitani, I believe the linen out at the washing grove is dry now. Can you please go and fetch it in. I think you need some air.”

With a barely audible squeak of acknowledgement, Vitani shot to her feet and scurried out without a backward glance. Seyla allowed herself a scowl. Coward.

“Oel ngati kameie, Neytiri.” Seyla greeted, her head still dipped sheepishly, embarrassed at the thought of the slanderous comments the woman had just overheard about her son. None of it was true, but the insinuation was no less mortifying for Seyla.

Neytiri returned the greeting warmly and folded herself down to sit by her. She peered over at the girl who had dutifully resumed her peeling work and was deliberately avoiding her gaze, “You are worthy, child. No matter what others might imply or assume.”

“I never did anything like that. Nothing inappropriate happened while I was in training.” The words burst from Seyla in a torrent and she was unsure of why she even felt like she needed to reiterate the facts to defend herself.

A husky chortle rang out from Neytiri who fixed her with a knowing expression, “I think you forget who I am. Your karyu is my son and the tsahìk who appointed you is my mother. I know them both like the backs of my own hands, and they both speak very highly of you. I’m the last person you need to convince of your honour.”

Swallowing the tight lump in her throat, Seyla nodded mutely in acknowledgement. Neytiri’s words were a soothing balm to her nerves. Vaguely, she wondered what Neteyam had told his mother of her. She felt Neytiri’s warm hand settle on one of her wrists then and she instinctively glanced up to meet her kindly gaze.

“You have done well. The spirit of our Great Mother is strong in you.” Neytiri breathed, heartening Seyla with a gentle squeeze of her wrist and an affectionate smile, “And one day, when you and Neteyam are both ready, I will be proud to welcome you into our soaia (family) as a daughter.”

Seyla’s answering grin was reserved, but her heart sang with elation at Neytiri’s words. One day, when she and Neteyam were ready, they would seal their bond before Eywa.

She would be his and he would be hers for eternity.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Her eyes were wandering naughtily, Seyla knew, and she smirked defiantly to herself. Perhaps it was the cover of darkness after eclipse that made her bolder, but she continued to trace the muscular silhouette of the man above her with her gaze as they climbed.

She watched unapologetically as Neteyam climbed nimbly ahead of her, his lithe limbs scaling the massive tree trunk with an athletic ease she was envious of as he led them towards their intended destination. The tensing and flexing of his muscles as he moved was a stimulating sight, but she firmly maintained that she was not at all sorry for ogling. Not when he was her betrothed now and especially not when they had spent the last few weeks getting very lost in the new scent, sound and feel of each other’s bodies.

Reaching the platform, Seyla watched in anticipation as Neteyam adroitly pulled himself up onto the level plane of it. He turned immediately with a cheerful grin and an outstretched hand, which she took without hesitation, marvelling at the way he proceeded to haul her effortlessly up to join him as if she weighed nothing more than a leaf.

“What do you think?” Neteyam asked, his pride evident in the broad set of his chest and shoulders as he beamed at her.

Seyla glanced inquisitively around her, making a quick assessment of her surroundings.

The platform was an impressive textile. It had been skilfully interwoven with the perfect balance of softer cloth fibres, sinewy vines and dried palm strands to form a large, flat hammock that retained the breadth of its spread without sinking too much in the middle when weight was impressed upon it. It currently hung suspended from the boughs and branches of the surrounding woodland trees and a matching weave of tsawlapx (unidelta tree) leaves spanned overhead, providing shelter from falling shrubbery and rain.

However, the most breathtaking part of where they were situated was the view and Seyla gasped in delight, “Neteyam this is beautiful.”

This part of the lush woodlands overlooked a steep drop off a cliff on one side before bottoming out and expanding towards more of the verdant treetops of the bioluminescent forest below. The platform had been suspended between the trees closest to the cliff’s edge and out beyond the platform lay the vast expanse of the night sky, adorned with clusters of stars that glimmered bright against their darker milieu.

“Well, I figured we needed somewhere more secluded. More privacy. Away from prying eyes.” Neteyam murmured, his voice dropping both in pitch as well as volume as he watched his little student pace the platform. Seyla still appeared rapt by her surroundings and he was unsure if she had even heard him. No matter, there was no rush. They had all the time in the world up here to explore each other further without the worry of being seen.

Another endearing intake of breath left Seyla as she spotted the clear vessels that had been placed at various points on the platform, illuminating the space with a gentle glow due to their contents. She knelt to pick one up, giggling as the fluttering glowmoths inside them flitted to land where her fingers were wrapped around the confines of their clear prison.

A small pang of woe pricked at Seyla then and she looked over her shoulder toward Neteyam, “We can let them go after, right? They’re not trapped in here?”

Never failing to be touched by her endless compassion, Neteyam nodded, “Of course. The tops of the vessels come off and we’ll let the moths go later. My father calls these vessels jars. The avatar camp has plenty of them and they use them for food storage.”

Seyla could see that small holes had been punctured into the metal tops of the jars allowing for air circulation within them. Satisfied now that her winged friends would come to no harm, she pushed gracefully to her feet again and slipped into Neteyam’s arms where they were waiting to receive her.

Rubbing her cheek against the warmth of his shoulder, Seyla savoured the quiet thud of his heartbeat against her ear and splayed her fingers against his warm back, “The stars look so stunning from up here.”

Neteyam’s next words were a whispered caress by her ear and he ran the tip of his nose along the curve of her neck, inhaling the clean and sweet scent of her, “I like your stars better.” His fingers trailed tantalisingly over the swirling and weaving patterns of the tanhi (bioluminescent freckles) along her spine, and he felt a spear of male satisfaction at the way she shuddered against him.

“What was it you were saying earlier about privacy?” Seyla purred, taking a step back so she could tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

A corner of Neteyam’s mouth upturned in a crooked smile as he perceived the mischievous glint in her eyes. Seyla had always been a studious learner. In her training for her rites she had been true to her word about trying her best. If she had failed to meet a target or if there was room for improvement, she would pick herself up and double down on her efforts. And Neteyam had discovered in recent weeks that she was just as diligent now with their new evening curriculum. 

“I thought we could use a safer space to get to know each other better, get closer without having to keep an eye or an ear out for potential interruptions.” Neteyam said, his voice more a rumble than a sound due to how close they were to each other. He was very aware of her hands, which had snaked from his upper back down lower to skim the tops of his lean rear.

With zero warning, Seyla grasped hold of the base of his tail in one hand and stroked it deliberately. His harsh intake of breath made her giggle and she continued the action, knowing full well it was an erogenous zone as he had done the same to her previously and taught her so.

Weaving the fingers of one hand into Seyla’s braids at the base of her head, Neteyam angled her face towards his and claimed her lips in his. She moaned softly into the meld of their mouths and met his kiss head on, shifting her hands to grip tightly at his shoulders to pull herself up onto the balls of her feet and press closer to him. The next re-angling of their heads brought with it a rough nip as Seyla deliberately caught Neteyam’s bottom lip between her teeth with a gentle, titillating pull.

Hot embers of lust ignited deep within Neteyam’s belly and through his half-lidded eyes he caught the flirty grin dancing on her lips as she nibbled on his. Well, well. It appeared his student had more than passed the first stage of her curriculum… It had not taken Seyla long to acquaint herself with the art of kissing. She had taken to the passionate dancing of their lips like a duck to water and she was proving to be a very fast learner in this arena.

Many of their evenings in the weeks past had been spent trailing their mouths and hands over every bare inch of each other’s bodies; lips moulding to lips, teeth and tongue tasting the skin of neck and chest; fingers tickling ribs or palms pressing hot against thighs and derrieres. They had remained clothed, not trusting that sneaking out into the glade around Hometree was far enough or secluded enough to promise total privacy. And every evening they had spent like this had left them both in a heated mess of slick limbs, their desire searing so hot that it had spurred Neteyam on to building this platform (Lo’ak had helped with many a teasing jibe once he had realised what it was for).

“Somebody is impatient this evening.” Neteyam muttered with a dark chuckle, “What’s happened to my shy student, huh?”

Seyla gave a mock pout and giggled, “You said you’d teach me, karyu. I think I’m ready for my next lesson.”

Neteyam felt the already snug confines of his loincloth constrict even further and he mentally cautioned himself not to get too excited. He did not want to scare her. He had been aroused around her before though. He had been unable to stop it happening considering the last few weeks, with the fervent meeting of their mouths and bodies. There was no way that Seyla could have missed his erections. The solid jut of it was very obvious behind his loincloth, not to mention the rigid press of it against her body as they kissed.

As always with her training, Neteyam let her set the pace and the boundaries, “And what would you like to learn for your next lesson, numeyu (student)?”

Pressing her lips together to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth from desirous anticipation, Seyla held Neteyam’s golden gaze and let her hands drop to the ties of his loincloth, “I want to see all of you tonight, and I want you to see all of me. I want us to touch each other, everywhere.”

Neteyam’s hands stopped hers before Seyla could pull the corded ties of his loincloth free, “Are you sure? We can just focus on you, yawntu. You can show me what you like?”

Stubborn determination flashed in Seyla’s orbs and she reiterated, “No, I want to see you too. We can both teach other what we like.”

“Alright, but there’s no pressure for you to do anything you don’t want to, yeah? We can take things slow-”

“I’m a healer, Neteyam. I’ve seen naked men before. And I know what happens with bodies and sex.”

Neteyam raised a hesitant brow at her. He highly doubted she had seen an aroused naked man before though and there was a difference, “I just don’t want to scare you or make you feel like you have to go further than you’re comfortable with.”

Fixing him with a softer expression, though it was no less adamant than before, Seyla said, “I know I’m safe with you, karyu.”

Great Mother, she had a way of breaking down his resolve when she said things like that… Leaning forward, Neteyam pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Alright.” Neteyam’s own hands moved to the ties of his clothing, his fingers deftly undoing the ties and moving to undo the strap around his tail.

Seyla mirrored him, tugging the ties of her chest covering free first before working on her own loincloth. She felt strangely calm. Her heart was palpitating in her chest, but it was not from anxiety or fear. She trusted Neteyam. He had proven beyond all doubt during her training and afterward that he cared and felt deeply for her. She had no reason to be afraid.

Steadfastly, Seyla discarded her chest covering and freed her tail from her loincloth. Gently bundling her items of clothing together, she tossed them to a corner of the platform. Returning her eyes to Neteyam, she found him already looking at her with slightly wide eyes. He looked rather stunned actually and she resisted the instinctive urge to wrap her arms around her chest. She wanted this and she would not shrink.

Neteyam felt himself ache and burn between his legs as his eyes took in the sight of Seyla’s bare frame. All women were beautiful in their own way and he appreciated them all, but there was something about the innocence of Seyla that made him instantly breathless. Naturally, he was drawn most to the delicate rounds of her breasts. They were not buxom, but they looked just big enough for him to cup in a handful and they were tipped with beautiful lilac nipples.

“Great Mother, you are perfect, Seyla.” Neteyam proclaimed, a little hoarse. However, his student was distracted and not really listening. She appeared to be taking her education rather seriously and she had begun to pace around him slowly as she too soaked in the sight of him.

Majestic was not good enough a word to describe Neteyam, Seyla thought to herself. The customary attire of the Omatikaya did not cover much so, as such, she had technically seen most of his body before tonight anyway. But the comprehension that he was truly naked – that they both were – absolutely thrilled her. She had snuck a glance at his erection when she had first returned her gaze to him and in honesty, she had gotten a little shy then, which is why she had begun to circle him slowly.

Seyla let her eyes rake up the backs of his legs, noticing the nervously twitching tuft of his tail. She admired the lean musculature of his thighs that fed into the very attractive rounds of his bottom. She carried on with her pacing, reaching his other side as she looped back around to his front. His slim hips flared out to defined abdominals, to a broad chest and shoulders, from which hung brawny arms that made his powerful strength evident. She finally let her gaze settle again on the most male part of him and her breath hitched softly.

Neteyam was as imposing there as he was everywhere else, the thick and swollen length of his cock standing upright to easily reach his navel. Seyla was not about to lie to herself; she was intimidated by its impressive size. But growing up she had heard whispers from other women that sex felt amazing; that a man’s body had been designed to fit perfectly with a woman’s, just as Eywa had intended. She supposed she would find out for herself eventually, perhaps in another‘lesson’.

Meeting his eyes again, Seyla chuckled at Neteyam’s dumbfounded state and she took the opportunity to tease him, “Who’s the quiet one now? Come on then karyu, I won’t learn anything if we just stand around all evening.”

Clearing the hoarseness from his throat, Neteyam gestured with a hand to a corner of the platform where he had previously lay some soft throws down, “You lead the way.”

Seyla reached out to take his hand, which surprised him, and she led them both to lie down. She settled her back against the soft blankets and looked expectantly up at him, blinking modestly through dark lashes. She saw him hesitate for a moment before his form bent at the knees into a crouch and he stretched out on his side next to her, propping his head up on an elbow.

“You seem more nervous than I am.” Seyla spoke softly, reaching out to caress his cheek, “One would think you’re the inexperienced one here, but I know that’s not the case. Women talk. Lo’ak talks.”

With an unsuppressed sigh and a shake of his head, Neteyam silently cursed his loose-mouthed brother. While Lo’ak had matured over the years, he was certainly still more ‘fun-and-games’ than he was. Neteyam had never had any intention of hiding the truth of his experience with women – Metkayina females were especially passionate – but he had never had any intention of shouting it from the treetops either. A sentiment not shared by Lo’ak who rather enjoyed regaling anyone who would listen with the adventures he and Neteyam had got up to back in the reefs.

“Does that bother you?” Neteyam asked.

“No. You’re several years older than I am. It would be naïve of me or anyone else to think, at your age, that you haven’t explored such matters with other women.”

“I wasn’t irresponsible or cavalier with any of my former lovers. I left all that rampant fun to Lo’ak. I had always felt something for those I chose to lie with.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me, mighty warrior with a gentle heart?” Seyla remarked and her tone was fond, “Will you kiss me again now, karyu?”

Neteyam did not need to be asked twice. He honoured her request enthusiastically, pouring the depth of what he felt for her into the kisses he proceeded to shower on her lips and neck. His upper body sheltered hers now, though he kept his hips away from her still. Seyla was arching up against him, arching into his touch as his lips and palms began to wander her torso. The sensation of her peaked nipples brushing against his chest sent blazing desire coursing through him and his cock throbbed longingly.

“I’m going to touch you now, OK?” Neteyam gasped in between open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, “But you can tell me to stop at any time if you’re not enjoying what I’m doing.”

A molten heat had started to consume Seyla under Neteyam’s attentions, spreading slowly from the liquescent ache between her legs and outward through her limbs. Her breaths were getting louder and she emitted an involuntary squeal when she felt the rasp of Neteyam’s tongue lick across the stiff nipple of one of her breasts. Her back bowed under her, pushing her soft flesh against his mouth and Neteyam took that as his cue to continue.

The points of her nipples pebbled at his touch and he took one into the searing heat of his mouth, suckling intently on it while the fingers of his left hand toyed with the other. Seyla squirmed, the pleasure shooting from her nipples straight to her core. She had touched herself on occasion, but she had never realised her breasts were so sensitive. Neither she nor Neteyam had touched her core so far tonight, but already she felt the coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter low in her belly.

Seyla’s right hand drifted to the vee of her thighs, easily finding the swollen nub atop her core. She was surprised to find how easily her fingers slid through her folds, so slippery already with the slick of her skyrocketing arousal. Rubbing circles over her clitoris with her slick fingers, Seyla whined piteously as the pleasure pulsed at her core while Neteyam continued his ministrations on her breasts.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Neteyam could see Seyla touching herself and he groaned against her. His hips canted back and forth in the air in small thrusts, the head of his cock drizzling a string of pre-cum in heightened excitement. Lifting his head, his lips pulled away from the mound of her breast with a soft pop and his eyes found her half-lidded ones.

She was an absolute vision like this.

Beneath her hooded gaze, Neteyam could see her pupils were dilated wide and a desirous flush coloured her cheeks and chest a sensual violet. Her mouth was ajar and she was panting as she continued to pleasure herself. Stealing another kiss from her plush lips, Neteyam ghosted a hand over the wrist at her centre in a wordless request to touch her where she burned the hottest. Seyla answered with the slow parting of her thighs, bringing her knees upward and out to expose herself fully to him.

Neteyam stifled a strong curse and he breathed out with his next breath, “Fuck, you are so beautiful yawntu. You’re driving me mad.”

He reached down and blistering, moist heat enveloped his finger as Neteyam gently pushed a single digit inside her. His jaw opened both in amazement and in lust at how smooth the glide in had been, her core welcoming his intrusion with a tight clench and pulse. Seyla moaned and the sound was so deliciously licentious that he longed to hear it again. Her fingers pressed in faster circles over her clit and Neteyam gently added a second finger. He was rewarded with another throaty moan and the stretch of her thighs as she widened them as far as they could go.

Seyla’s movement brought the shin of her leg closest to Neteyam into contact with something solid and warm, and she stilled then, her eyes darting down to look. She gave a small start when she realised it was his erection, as if just remembering that it was there. It throbbed slightly and it appeared even stiffer than it had been before, the head of it glistening with Neteyam’s own arousal.

Her left hand crept towards him and she murmured a question through her heaving breaths, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, but I want to focus on you fir-”

Neteyam’s reaction was instantaneous as Seyla’s fingers closed around his girth. His entire torso jumped like he had been shocked by something and her hand flew backward in fright, apologies spilling from her lips, “Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Neteyam’s laugh was gravelly and he refuted the need for her apologies in a croaky voice, “No, sweet girl, you didn’t hurt me. It’s alright. I’m just incredibly sensitive currently.”

“How do you like to be touched?”

“Let’s just focus on you right now. I can’t think if you’re distracting me by running your lovely hands over my cock, and I want you to feel good first.” To press his point, Neteyam curled the two fingers that were still snug inside her drenched core, eliciting a keening moan from Seyla, “Can you do that for me, numeyu? Just relax and enjoy this for now? You can touch me later, promise.”

“Y-Yes, karyu.”

Setting a steady pace of curling and stroking, Neteyam watched Seyla’s responses carefully. Her fingers resumed their massage over her most sensitive bud and with each curl of his fingers, he could feel her walls pulsate and tighten around them. Her eyes slid closed in concentration and whimpers puffed from between her parted lips. Neteyam had to steel himself at the wanton picture before him, fighting the pooling heat at the base of his spine and the pulsing throb of his cock. By Eywa, he was not going to spill too early like a hormonal teenager…

Everywhere, all around Seyla felt like viscous, gooey desire. Her skin prickled all over and her nipples tingled against the cool night air. The pleasure was greatest, of course, at her core where her fingers and Neteyam’s worked in tandem, driving her towards the cresting peak she could already see hurtling towards her. His hands were much larger than hers; his fingers thicker, longer and much more satisfying than her own had ever been during the times she had explored her own body.

Feeling like she was on the brink of shattering into the tiny fragments, his name left her lips in a lustful prayer, “Neteyam.”

Sensing her orgasm was imminent with the telltale quivering of her knees and thighs, Neteyam dipped his head once more to kiss over her breasts, nuzzling one peaked nipple, “That’s it, sweet girl. Just lean into it and let go.” He kept the pace and rhythm of his fingers steady, knowing from experience that once he had found something the woman enjoyed that consistency was key, not increased speed or pressure.

“Karyu, I-I’m so- Neteyam-” Seyla’s movements were becoming frantic and she rubbed even more intently at her clit, straining to reach the high that was just out of her reach. She was almost there. She just needed a little something more-

Neteyam’s mouth closed over one of her nipples again and he drew it into his mouth in a long, enticing suckle. It was that last little something that Seyla needed, and it threw her careering over the blessed edge of bliss. Her left hand fisted against her mouth to suppress the shameless scream that tore from her throat and Neteyam cursed low under his breath as the slick walls of her core squeezed and undulated around his fingers in ecstasy.

Great Mother, it was like his fingers were feeding the sensation directly to his cock and it pulsed in warning with a small spurt of pre-cum, his own orgasm threatening to consume him. Burying his face into the crook of Seyla’s neck, Neteyam gritted his teeth and resisted the urge.

No, he had promised Seyla she could explore him later, after her own pleasure. He would not rescind on that promise now due to losing control.

Heart pounding in her ears and thundering behind her ribs, Seyla panted through the aftermath of her orgasm. She reached across to thread her fingers tenderly through Neteyam’s beaded braids where his head was nestled against her neck. She felt him shift and he propped his head up again to regard her. Seyla felt blood heat her face at the sight of him also panting slightly, his piercing golden eyes still saturated with his desire. She smiled bashfully at him and turned her flushing face away from him.

Chortling, Neteyam ribbed her, “Oh, now you’re shy? By Eywa, where did all this come from tonight?”

Twisting her head back to face him, she pursed her lips in mock rebelliousness and retorted, “I’m a fast learner.” Her expression softened then and she tittered, “And I trust you.”

I love you, her heart said, but her lips kept that particular secret to herself.

Seyla had been curbing the urge to tell him. She had loved him for many moons now and although she and Neteyam were now betrothed, she was still afraid of being too forward with her emotions.

Neteyam silenced her with another heart-stopping kiss and Seyla rolled on to her side towards him, bumping yet again into his still very roused erection. He broke away from the kiss with a hiss at the contact, and Seyla saw her opportunity to begin her exploration of him.

Reaching down between their bodies, she gently grasped hold of his impressive length and gave it a tentative squeeze and stroke. Neteyam’s hips bucked towards her and a thrill of delight shot through her. She tested the feel of him in her grip, finding the cyan skin of his cock silken soft and yet its shaft was also exceedingly hard beneath his skin. A drop of liquid beaded at its tip and she instinctively swiped at it with her thumb, spreading the moisture over the smooth head of him.

“Tell me how you like it.” Seyla whispered, relishing the way his jaw had dropped and his face was contorted in a grimace of enjoyment. She continued with experimental strokes, feeling so empowered at the pleasure she was evidently bringing him as some more pre-cum began to ooze out of his cock, further lubricating the glide of her fingers over his sensitive flesh.

If Neteyam was honest, she could do anything right now and it would be paradise. He was so aroused, his balls drawn up close against his body, that he knew this was not going to be a lengthy exercise. Swallowing through a dry throat, he stammered, “That’s good. Keep going, sweet girl.”

“Is this what you want to do? What you want me to do?”

Neteyam’s expression twisted into a pleasure-filled snarl at the innocence of her question that provoked a surge of unchaste imagery in his mind, “Numeyu, there is so much that I want to do to you. You would be pinned beneath me screaming my name if I had my way.”

“OK.”

Neteyam stopped her hands then, bothered by how calmly and easily she had delivered her consent and he opened his eyes to blink sincerely at her. Great Mother, her desire to please him would be the death of him. Even whilst training for her rites, Neteyam had discovered early on that making him proud as her mentor had been a strong motivating factor for her. Seyla would push herself to her limits if the only reward she received from him at the end was a smile of approval.

In truth, he had answered her question amidst the thick of his pleasure and though taking her fully was indeed what the very male parts of him desired most, it was not a line he would be crossing with her today, “No, not ‘OK’. Sorry yawntu, I answered too quickly. I do want you, but not like this, not tonight. We’re not going to rush this.”

Seyla nodded quietly, still wanting to please him as best she could, “But how can I make this as good for you as possible? Teach me how.”

Licking his lips to moisten them, Neteyam admitted, “I like to thrust. So I normally thrust into my grip.” Seeing the slightly confused tilt of her head, he elaborated further, “Instead of moving my hands, I usually move my hips.”

“Oh, I see.” Cottoning on to his meaning, Seyla dripped her head in understanding. She was determined to be a good student, “Is there a way I can help you do that now?”

Unable to resist the earnestness burning bright in her big doe-eyes, Neteyam leant down to taste her lips again, taking great enjoyment in the way her mouth just opened for him to plunder it further. Ending their series of kisses with a chaste peck to her lips, he pressed Seyla down flat onto her back again and threw a knee over her hips so that he was kneeling on all fours over her.

Reaching for her hands with one of his, Neteyam arranged the fingers of both her hands around his cock, guiding her as he showed her the kind of grip he enjoyed. A ragged moan left him as he planted his hands on either side of her shoulders and peered down at her, “We can do it like this. Keep your perfect hands just the way they are, sweet girl. I’ll do the rest.”

“Yes, karyu.”

Neteyam began with a slow push and pull of his pelvis, his breath whistling low out of him as he watched his length glide in and out of the grasp of her beautiful hands. His pleasure was great, the feel of her fingers squeezing him as he pumped his cock in and out was the most exquisite sensation he had felt in a long time. He felt his cock begin to throb in a mounting rhythm of pleasure and his hips increased their pace.

Seyla watched from beneath him, making conscious effort to keep her clasped hands still through the thrusting of Neteyam’s hips. She was unsure if she had ever seen a creature more beautiful than him. She was thoroughly enjoying the view. She could see his face and watch the minute changes in his expression as he sought his bliss; the way his brows furrowed in varying intensities; the way his nose would wrinkle and his lips would peel back in a soundless snarl; the way his tail flexed and curled over at his side.

The rippling of his abdominal muscles while he worked his pelvis was Seyla’s favourite, however. She noted how his thrusts varied in speed and intensity, the way he had complete control of how deep or shallow his movements were. All the while a provocative string of his pre-cum was dripping onto the exposed skin of her belly, and the sight titillated her to no end.

Harsh groans were beginning to escape Neteyam and his hips were starting to stutter. It was becoming harder and harder for Seyla to keep her hands in their original position as the force of hips was pushing them lower towards her abdomen. He did not seem to be complaining though and soon her hands were wedged between their bodies, his hips aligned with hers while they continued their onslaught into her grasp.

Neteyam’s breaths deepened, punching out of him in large huffs before his entire body went rigid and a shout tore from him. His abs tensed and flexed with the assault of his climax against his senses and Seyla felt hot spurts of his semen lashing against her front, up her belly and painting stripes over her breasts.

Rolling off Seyla and onto his back so he did not crush her, Neteyam’s senses reeled from the force of his orgasm. His chest rose and fell rapidly while his lungs attempted to bring in enough air to calm his body to a more relaxed state.

Seyla felt a strong sense of satisfaction at her evening’s achievement. Neteyam was an absolute dream and she had thoroughly enjoyed being this intimate with him. She felt she finally understood why her peers all seemed so eager to engage in such activities now. Sweeping a curious finger through the sticky fluid that painted her front, Seyla held her fingers up to look at them and she gasped in surprise.

Neteyam’s eyes flew open at Seyla’s sudden gasp and his head whirled to face her, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She shot him an enchanted grin, her fingers still suspended before her as she delightedly pronounced, “It glows.”

Seyla cackled at her discovery, not minding the sticky, luminous mess on her fingers at all. She supposed she should not be surprised that semen was bioluminescent. It was a man’s lifegiving seed after all, and everything that was alive on Pandora glowed.

Snickering at the pure amazement on her face at such an innocent discovery, Neteyam pressed a kiss into her hair, “Is that your favourite learning of the evening, numeyu?”

Seyla crowed with laughter, nodding.

Tonight had been her first ‘lesson’ in sensuality and judging by the rousing success of the evening, she dared to say that she was very much looking forward to her upcoming lessons as well.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Author's Note: Woooo! That was a very steamy Part II! The spicy scene at the end also ended up waaay longer than I thought, but I really wanted to flesh it out so you got both Seyla and Neteyam's perspectives. Thank you for reading! Likes, comments & reblogs are always so, so appreciated my lovelies. :D Gimme your thoughts and feelings, folks! Who loved Neteyam in this?? <3 So. Sexy. OMG. Who wants Part III?

Part III now HERE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist (I think this is everyone who showed an interest in Part II): @wawuwe @liluvtojineteyam @neyetams @cinetrix @dutifullysteadystarfish @han-sirentell @bluealiensimp @mahalkomarvel @nmin @bellstwd @blue-iciclepop

Some of the tags don't work for some reason - I'm so sorry to those bloggers! :( I don't know how to fix it.

#avatar movie #avatar twow #neteyam #atwow neteyam #avatar #avatar neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x oc #atwow #avatar james cameron #neteyam smut #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neytiri #neteyam atwow #neteyam fluff #neteyam avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #vivid-ink works

[creativepromptsforwriting]

How to choose a first name

do not repost

First names often stick with someone for their whole life, even though it's becoming more popular to change their first name to reflect their own personality. A name chosen before someone can even develop a personality/is born can lead to names that don't fit a person that well. In fiction, you already know a character's whole personality and can name them accordingly.

First names can be more experimental, since they are freely chosen by the name givers, not like the last names.

Origin

A first name can indicate where a character or more importantly their parents come from. Every country (and each region inside a country) has often used names and therefore names that people would associate with that country and wouldn't think twice if someone from there was named like that.

This does not mean that the name has to be originally from that country. Depending on the country and their population there will be influences from other languages over the years that make names completely normal in a country whose language does not fit that name. It may just be pronounced a bit different.

(Ex. Jacqueline was a very popular name in the 90s in Germany, despite it being hard to spell for German kids, and sounding nothing like German, while at the same time it's pronounced very different from the French or English version to still fit somewhat into the German language)

How to find good names for a specific cultural background

I do not recommend generators. They are fun, but most that I tried for German names gave reasonable last names, but very archaic first names or names that kind of looked German, but did not actually exist. Same with baby name sites. Some of these names don't make any kind of sense.

Better solution: find the Top 100 baby name lists for that specific country, it's more accurate of what is a common name there (but find the ones from the years around where your character is born. Not the most recent ones!)

Living with their first name

Decide if your character is happy with their first name and how they use it. Do they think it fits them? Do they get bullied or do they get put into a box because of it? Do they want to change it or do they only go by their nickname? Does it fit their last name? Who calls them by their first name?

An unfitting name

Here are some examples for why a name might not fit a character that well or why it could be surprising to be named how they are. This can be fun to explore in a story and give some insight into their parents' thought process and motives.

Parents that want their child to assimiliate easier to a new country by giving that child a normal name for that country, but that doesn't fit with their own cutural origin

Parents that want their child to succeed in life by giving them a name that they think is a royal or upper-class name, or a name fit for a celebrity, therefore choosing names that are not common in their own surroundings

The parents subscribe to a lifestyle that fits the name (a very old-fashioned one, or one that seems more free-spirited), even though the nameholder may not fit into that lifestyle

More: How to use nicknames | List of Names

Coming soon: a guide on how to name your characters in general and how to choose a last name specifically

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#writing advice #how to write #how to name your characters #how to choose a first name #names #creativepromptsforwriting #writing ideas #writing prompts #writing inspiration #creative writing #writing prompt #writeblr

[ivestas]

Could I request a könig x reader in which she’s one of the best soldiers/snipers in the world, covered in tattoos, smokes and is a ‘I joined the military out of spite and somehow all that anger turned me into this’, and könig is just smitten with her?

its time you learn to accept yourself

Summary: Through König, you learn love and self-acceptance. 

Tags: sniper!fem!reader x konig, strangers to friends to lovers, headcanon format, reader implied not to speak german, reader implied to be mentally ill, unedited

Word count: 1.7k

Note: im starting to really like this genre of ship-dynamic LMAO

When you joined KorTac, it was clear you didn’t give much of a shit about anyone there. 

You kept to yourself, spoke in monosyllables, and had much more interest in smoking the cigarettes you kept sneaking into the base than talking to any of them. 

He’d heard operators call you several things—none of them flattering to your image—however, one thing stood out clearly to him:

You were a good shot. They all agreed to that. To them, though your personality was shit, you had the eye of a hawk and the hands of a trained and experienced veteran who knew the sniper like the back of their hand. 

He couldn’t help but admire you, regardless of the fact you’ve never acknowledged his presence or even looked at him. 

He also couldn’t help but admire how calm you were, how you were just... yourself. Sleeves always rolled up with your tattoos in full display, a cigarette always nursed between your lips, the fact you never watered down your personality; he wanted that confidence—no, that sureness your character carried. 

König knew you liked to lurk near the shooting range—since you’d joined, he avoided disturbing you and had often gone to the other side of the range to practice his shots. 

However, in a fit of uncharacteristic confidence, he decided to approach you. 

He was prepared for your scathing words, or the silent look of disgust you often wore around the other men.

But, when he approached, you regarded him neutrally. 

“Hey, you’re...” 

“König.”

“Yeah, König, you’re König.” You echoed the accent of the word, looking proud. “I pronounced that well, right? König.” You repeated his name as though it were a flavorful candy.

He was rendered mute; German sounded so nice on your tongue. 

“König?” 

“A-ah, scheiße, I was lost in thought for a second,” he laughed awkwardly. “You said it well, yes.” 

“‘kay, good. Anyway, what’d you want?’

It was a blunt but reasonable question, but with your eyes trained on him, it was suddenly hard to speak or think. 

Bashfully, he spoke. “May I shoot with you?” 

“Uh, of course? This isn’t my shooting range, man. Have fun.” 

“No, with you.” 

“With me?” You echoed, dumbfounded. “How’d that work?” 

“We’ll make it a friendly competition—if you’d like, of course—whoever gets the most bulls-eyes wins.”

You smiled. It was brighter than the sun. “Sure! Sounds like fun—you go first, then.” 

König does. It was an easy shot, anyone could hit it, but he could feel your eyes watching him. 

Trying to steady his hands, he set his sniper on top of the heavy crates and tried to aim, trying to clear his mind.

It was difficult. Again, your eyes—he wondered if he was making any mistakes he didn’t even know of. He was sure he was doing everything right, but... was he? 

“Your hands are shaking, König. Try steadying them like this,” roughly, you took the hand that had been on the trigger and made the weight even. 

His cheeks erupted in warmth. Too close. 

He quickly takes a shot, and it was just about to hit the bullseye. 

“Time to show ya how the pros do it!” You sit right beside him, kneeling in front of the crates and setting your own sniper onto them. He noticed rough engravings on the snout of your gun, a rough shape of a butterfly and snake. 

Before he could ask about them, you shot. You had barely paused to even adjust. 

When he looked up, he couldn’t help the wave of admiration that hit him.

You hit the bullseye perfectly.

“Maybe one day you can be as good as me,” you teased, voice light. “But your ass needs practice. Can I help?” 

He couldn’t trust his voice so he merely nodded. Thank God he had a hood over his head because he was sure he resembled more tomato than a human. 

After that though, the two of you became closer—you saw each other more, interacted more, etc. 

You had taken a swift liking to him; he was eager to learn, polite, and soft-spoken, how could you not? 

König, though? He’s skipped the ‘friend’ part and went straight to crushing; honestly, he was flattered enough that you just acknowledged his presence, being one of the best snipers and all, but the fact you went out of your way to teach him—talk to him—it went all straight to the heart.

Even on missions, you’d talk to him. You’d often favor being quiet, whistling the odd tune or two before taking your shots, but now you’ve come to just take those small pauses to tease him incessantly. 

König was about to maul an enemy before a bullet shot through their head. 

His earphones sparked to life. 

“You should be more careful, I almost couldn’t save you there.” Your voice crackled through. 

He couldn’t help but huff, half amused, half worried. “Didn’t Aksel say for you to clear out the enemies on your end?” 

“Did already. They were like sitting ducks.”

You two are an actual powerhouse in missions; König with his physical prowess, easily overpowering anyone in his way, and you with your sniper, taking any enemies behind him down in an instant. 

You only grew closer to him and vice versa, and eventually, the daily conversations nearly became constant—attached to the hip, understanding each other to the extent that quick glances would equate to hundreds of lines of dialogue. 

It was during this that you realize you’ve grown... attached. 

It worries you—no, it scares you. 

You were, in your eyes, a poison that could do nothing but harm a soul like König’s; despite is outward brutality, you knew inside he was nothing but gentle—or maybe you were blind. Maybe you were in love and refused to see the dark that tainted his inner consciousness. 

Or, maybe, you liked that too about him. 

In any case, it was worrisome; it bit at your insides, at the quiet part of your mind, it lit everything to flame then ash. 

You weren’t the woman you were before the military; fuck, maybe that version of you never existed—you were always so fucked up, so full of incomprehensible anger that set every step you took on fire. 

That worry turned to anxiety, and it only increased when you realized that your stable, steady hands have become a shaking mess. 

It was during a pause between missions that you try to clear your head, to purge those feelings you thought and knew wouldn’t lead to any good. 

However König—oh, König—followed.

You told him not to, but he knew something was wrong, that you weren’t quite as steady as he’d known you to be; it was a weakness, a vulnerability that, right now, could harm you. 

Neither of you had the comfort of being weak, especially in a safe house that could be overridden with hostiles at any moment of the day. If he couldn’t help, he’d at least want to be able to protect you during this time.

So, he followed, through the murky corridors and under the cloak of night, finding you outside with a cigarette between your lips. 

You saw him and you were ready to snap at him, to drive him away, but he spoke so fucking softly. 

“Are you okay?”

You weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and you knew he knew that. 

So you sighed. Gestured for him to come, and he did, leaning against the concrete wall beside you. 

You were particularly loose-lipped, but at that moment, all inhibitions of restraint were gone. 

“It’s all a lie—when people join the military, it’s rarely for that strive of good.” You took a harsh suck of the cigarette. “You think any person with a good head on their shoulders and love for life would want to be in a fuckin’ military? Or a merc group? No amount of money makes this worth it, no... never.” 

König was silent. Listening. Thinking.

“More often than not, people just join to just—run. Die. Cut their losses and just engulf themselves in the worst of the worst because of their own flaws—hamartias. Know that word?”

König nodded.

You laughed airily. It was hardly a laugh, more like a throwaway noise. “I learnt it back in high school in English class—’fatal flaw of a hero’, or something. Flaws... good, bad, right, wrong, villainous, heroic, it’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”

König nodded again. 

“So many labels for those who, in hindsight, or just cogs to a greater machine. A twisted machination—isn’t that the true evil? The machinery?”

“You make it sound difficult,” König breathed. “When everything is so much simpler than that. Personal principles define those beliefs, right and wrong is as broad as it is small.” 

You hummed. “Never struck you for the philosophical type.”

“I’m not. Philosophy is redundant. The answer is always found within our hearts.” 

“Hmmm.” You took another puff of the cigarette. “The answer in my heart was anger. Always anger. Violence, insults, it always seemed most effective... I thought the military would set me straight, make me more controlled, but it did the opposite.” You stared at the ground, smoke spilling out your lips. “I’m worse now, a festering disease. I can feel myself burning out day by day, and, König? I want you to stay away from that—from me.” 

“I won’t.” 

“What?” 

“I refuse. I will stay by your side.” I can’t bear to leave you alone. 

“But... why?” Why, why, why? 

“Because you’re the most beautiful flame I’ve ever seen.” I love you. Accept that. “Don’t cut yourself short, liebe. You can always change and grow. Or remain stagnant. Either way, my eyes will always be on you.”

You, for the first time in your life, couldn’t trust your voice. 

But when you looked up at him, you hoped that the message was there. That he could see. 

And he did, and you couldn’t help the smile when you saw that the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#konig x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #könig x reader

[fandoms--fluff]

Hello I just wanted to ask if you can do one where Hope has a little sister is another daughter of Hylie and Klaus is named Crystal Mikaelson, she is the light of Hope's eyes and she is the key for Hope to turn on her humanity crystal age is 6 months

The Little Key

Baby female Mikaelson reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: swearing, thats all

A/n: I did change the oc name to just y/n, cause that's what I'm used to writing and the age is a bit bumped up to around almost a year old to fit better with the fic, but she's still female. I hope you like it 💗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josie bounces you in her arms with one of her hands on the back of your head while you're crying your eyes out. Your sobs and crying are silent, wanting your big sister and everyone can tell you miss her even if you can't speak coherently yet.

You remember the feeling of another woman but she's been gone a long time. Now it's only Hope, your big sister, you have that same feeling with.

Josie holds you close and stands up from the couch in the living room, trying to quiet and calm you down a bit. Lizzie, Kaleb, MG, Finch, and Cleo are the only other ones in the room. They're all standing or sitting, trying to come up with a plan to get Hope's humanity back.

They hear heels clicking on the hardwood floor, "Hmm, I can help you with that. Stop trying" Hope walks into the Library with her arms crossed.

She glances at you for a moment before quickly moving her vision over to everyone else standing up now. Cleo starts a spell on her, but Hope picks up on it straight away and knocks the witch out with an easy spell. The older witch falls back onto the couch, unconscious.

"Hope, what are you doing here?" Josie asks, hiding your face under her jean jacket so you don't see any other incidents that may come.

"Do I need a reason to come back to my old school?" Hope rhetorically says.

You let out a loud whine, tears subsiding, hearing your sister's voice and wanting to go to her. You manage to escape from under Josie's jacket and make a grabby hand toward Hope while your other hand is holding onto Josie's shirt collar.

"What about your baby sister? The old you would have never been this unthoughtful" Josie exclaims, tightening her grip as hard as she can without hurting you.

Hope laughs with a scoff mixed in, she says, "This is your big plan? Saying some tiny touching thing about my sister and then insulting me? Heh, you can do better".

She started to walk over to the brunette twin. Lizzie moves quickly and stands in front of you both.

"What? You really think I'd hurt my own sister and the girl I had the smallest crush on for a measly week?" Hope chuckles at the taller girl.

She raises her hands and snaps the heretic's neck effortlessly before she could answer. After, she casts an immobilization spell on everyone except you.

Vamping over, Hope takes you into her arms and leaves the school before the spell wares off.

All of your tears immediately subside and your breathing levels out as you cling to the tribid.

She walks into the abandoned Mikaelson mansion that your guys' family used to live in for around two years. She's been staying in the house since a week after she turned her humanity off.

Hope walks up the staircase after locking the door and enters the room which she's taken, which is Klaus', or used to be anyways.

She puts you down on the bed and starts pacing back and forth. A second later you raise your hands up, wanting to be back in your sister's arms.

"What the hell is wrong with you, why'd you take her. There was absolutely no reason to, ughh. No, no way am I turning the damn thing back on. I see what your doing" Hope rambles to herself and her mind trying to get her to flip it back on, ignoring your pleas to be back in her hold.

"Hhh-o,mmhh" you whine, not being able to pronounce it.

You keep trying over and over, not being able to get it right, and Hope paying no mind to your babbling.

She can already feel her switch flittering between off and on, but she pauses as soon as she hears the word that comes out of your mouth.

"Ho...Hop... Hope" you finally pronounce correctly and yell out to your sister.

"What'd you just say?" She walks over and finally picks you up from the made bed.

"...Hope," you say again.

She closes her eyes, trying to fight off her switch, but after some time it was no use. Opening them back up slowly, she looks down at you in her grasp, holding onto a lock of her wavy auburn hair.

"Hey y/n/n, I'm sorry. I'm here now sweetie" Hope holds your tiny frame against her tightly, not wanting to let go.

You lay your head on her collarbone with a hand still in her hair, content and happy being back with your big sister.

"You said your first word" she whispers into your hair and kisses your head.

#hope mikaelson #no humanity hope #hope mikaelson x sister reader #hope mikaelson x little sister #hope mikaelson x reader #humanity switch #baby reader #josie saltzman #lizzie saltzman #cleo sowande #milton greasley #kaleb hawkins #finch #cute #fluff #angst? #imagines #fanfic #thevampirediaries #theoriginals #legacies

[dekusleftsock]

I thought everyone was exaggerating when people kept bringing up the whole “bakugou says he’s Kacchan bc of kaminari” thing, but they actually believe that… what?

WHAT

Literally how do you guys function

AND THEY CALL ME DELULU???????

It’s such a stretch too. Like “oh yeah he said Kacchan no Bakugou in this movie” ITS NOT EVEN IN THE MANGA HELLO???

The whole reason Kaminari calls Katsuki Kacchan is because he’s making fun of him. It’s poking fun at the fact that Katsuki can’t say anything or get mad at Kaminari because then it would raise the question, “Well why can Midoriya say it?”

He literally side eyes him every time he does it but ultimately doesn’t react because he can’t. He can’t if he wants to keep up the act that he is uninterested in what Izuku represents, who he is.

SO WHY, IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK, WOULD IT BE KAMINARI?

WHO is present in this battle?

WHO is the person that made eye contact with him the second he woke up?

WHO is the one that grabbed his hand immediately upon Katsuki flinging himself towards them??

I don’t think THEY even believe it either, I think it’s just some way to cope and explain away the fact that this moment is inherently romantic.

Because I don’t think he’s making fun of the name Kacchan, I think he’s wearing it proudly. I don’t think it’s a joke at all. It’s a joke in the disbelieving way—the way you act when you’ve made an enormous accomplishment or won some prize, and you just can’t help but act absolutely insane at the fact. Because it’s funny that you’re here, in this situation. It’s hilarious in that disbelieving way.

Because he’s laughing at the truth, he’s been laughing at nothing this ENTIRE CHAPTER.

“Ouch! Haha! I’m so fast!”

“I can’t even stop! Ha! Ouch!”

Note: (I’m not using the official translations because for some reason they lack the maniacal crazed laughter and I’m confused as to why?? I even checked with pikahlua and they specified that there was laughing so…. I’m confused.)

What’s even weirder about this is the fact that afo also says (in pikahlua’s translations) “just who is this brat?!” Instead of “what is wrong with him” which implies less crazed bakugou ness imo. Confused as to why, again.

Because this can’t be happening.

Now, I know it could very well be him teasing afo and calling him dumb, saying basically “you’re too young/old to even know how to pronounce my name, use Kacchan instead like the child you are.” Especially since in the context of names like Katsuki’s, he has that tsu sound that can be hard for children to pronounce. (I’m not 100% on this but I’m pretty sure that the u sound is also meant to be silent since it’s a double consonant. So Katsuki’s name is technically pronounced “Ka-ts-ki”)

BUT IDK I THINK HES JUST FUCKED AND A LITTLE CRAZY RN!

That maniacal laughter at the fact that he’s in pain, the disbelief that he may even surpass Izuku, to me it’s holding a double meaning. The meaning that afo is dumb and needs to be treated like the child he is, and the meaning behind the fact that it’s a name Izuku owns for him. That’s his.

It can be both.

It’s not fucking Kaminari. It was never Kaminari. Even if you don’t read it as the second definition it’s still not about Kaminari.

But it’s also undeniable that it has to do with Izuku some way some how.

I also believe that the western side of the fandom is making an extra big deal out of this because, to us, we don’t really have a proper understanding of what a nickname like Kacchan means in its cultural context.

We can TRY to understand, comparing it to endings with ie or y given to children, and then sometimes going with that nickname into adulthood, but it still has its own distinct cultural context. Because a name like “Gracie” over “Grace” does to an extent sound childish, but I have a feeling that -chan has its own childish feeling. There’s a reason none of Katsuki’s other friends in middle school call him Kacchan, and there’s a reason Kaminari decides to make fun of him for the name in the first place.

I just think it’s important to use our thinking brains before we start yapping about things we don’t quite understand yet :)

Like it’s so unbelievably important to understand that horikoshi won’t tell you what’s happening in his story and why, he’ll show you instead BECAUSE HES A GOOD FUCKING WRITER

If it was about Kaminari, he would have specified, but he didn’t. He showed you that Kacchan is Izuku’s nickname for Katsuki, and he showed you that Katsuki cared more about Izuku than he let on for a long time. Just like he showed you that Izuku pushes down his emotions, showed you that Izuku struggles with projection and anger, showed you that Ochako was the one with this crush and not Izuku, and showed you that the feelings he had about Katsuki were deeper than anyone had realized.

He showed you parallels, he specified the important parallels that you absolutely had to see as a viewer (ex toga and ochako), just as he showed you the ones that were more subtle but still there (ex toga and deku). He showed you the pieces, and that doesn’t make his character’s underdeveloped or unspecified, that’s just how writing fucking works. “Good writing” DOESNT MEAN that you have to be pulled along through your baby steps with your hand held, the fact that you don’t get it is on you. Reading comprehension is a learned skill that has to be practiced over and over again, and that is not the writers job. The writer is only supposed to deliver you their story, and however you decide to misconstrue that story is, and hear me out friends, on you.

So I’m sorry if I’m tired of hearing arguments like “toga is a predator and Horikoshi wrote her to be horny”… she’s supposed to represent love. I’m sorry if the representation he made of love was uncomfortable for you, but maybe that’s the point? Because she’s an outcast? Because she’s supposed to be hard to empathize with, but that we have to empathize in the first place?

Arguments like “Katsuki was referencing a joke about Kaminari bc Kaminari said this in this movie” is just about the largest fucking reach I’ve ever seen. And I know, I know that when bkdk eventually get their implied or canonical ending that people are going to be mad. They’ll blame shippers for pressuring him, or they’ll say he’s a bad writer, or they’ll send him homophobic slurs because “how dare the character I see myself in be gay”. And I’m done with the stupidity and lack of common god damn sense.

So if you are going to be upset by the fact that you’re going to be proven wrong, then I again say, it’s on you.

#bkdk #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bkdk brainrot #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #bnha deku #mha analysis #deku midoriya #Katsuki You’re safe for now you won’t be hit like Izuku will #but you used to make me want to Detroit smash you into a wall 24/7 #ily…. #anyway the girls can do no wrong that’s why they aren’t getting hit :) Toga and Ochako are too good for you Izuku #THEYRE MY WIVES #MINE #anyway this took more of a fandom focus than I thought it would #it’s just like. wow. yeah. #i mean… I learned how to analyze the media I liked better over the past three or so years I’ve been lurking in this fandom #there’s nothing wrong with not getting it #but REFUSING TO? holy shit man. that’s. wow. #yeah.. I don’t like you if you refuse to read or think in other pov’s #because reading othe pov’s can genuinely be eye opening in so many ways #I STILL read izu//ocha analysis #I’m interested in how the mindset works #and to me it seems as though they analyze and consume it by reading it at its most base level #‘ochako likes deku and toga is going to show her that she can love him freely’ type of thing #and it ignores a lot of coded dialogue and the Japanese nuance within what is said #yk. unless it has to do with ‘Kacchan no Bakugou’. #ugh #they don’t even know that he’s saying it like ‘Kacchan of the bakugou clan’ bc hes making it some grand announcement and old timey

[acommonanomaly]

Maedhros and Maglor for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo swallowed hard. It was disconcerting to be so near one of the Powers. Though he had been taught that the Valar loved Eru’s Children, he could not help but be aware that such a being could reach out and crush him or one of his family if it so desired.

Oromë’s head turned to Maitimo suddenly, as though he knew his thoughts, but the Vala only blinked his bright yellow eyes, watching Maitimo curiously for a long moment before turning back to Atar and Amil.

Makalaurë had squeezed his hand hard when Oromë glanced over, and Maitimo looked down to see that his little brother’s face was pale with fear. Despite this, Makalaurë moved around so that he was standing in front of Maitimo, as if to shield his older brother with his slender frame. Maitimo wanted to whisper reassurances to him, but he did not want to draw the Vala’s attention again, so he settled for lifting Makalaurë into his arms.

Makalaure’s thin arms wrapped firmly around his neck, nearly choking him, but he could feel the frantic beat of his brother’s heart against his own chest, so he did not try to loosen his hold.

“What is his name?” Oromë asked in a voice that was both as deep as thunder and as soft as a breeze. The air shook with it but quickly settled.

“He will be called Turkafinwë,” Atar said, an arm now around Amil’s shoulders.

Maitimo was amazed when Oromë stooped down and lifted a hand toward Amil’s belly. He glanced between Amil and Atar and asked, “May I?”

Atar gave a curt nod, holding himself proudly, but Amil smiled when she nodded her consent.

Maitimo took a step closer, but he stopped when Makalaure twisted around with a fearful lurch to see what was happening.

The Vala spoke again, his voice quieter this time, so that it seemed as if whisper wound around whisper, only hinting at words beneath the hiss of the sound. Then the Vala smiled wide.

“His spirit is fierce and bright like wildfire,” Oromë said, looking pleased as he stood, towering above them again.

Amil looked like she did not know what to think of this pronouncement, but Atar raised his eyebrows a little, and Maitimo wondered what he would say.

“He is my son. My fire burns in him as it does in my other sons, and as it will in all of my children.”

“Yes,” Oromë said. His smile did not fade, though his eyes changed somehow, as though seeing something not here. Maitimo had seen this look on his mother’s face before, and it always unsettled him when she fell into solemn contemplation afterward.

#tolkien #feanorianweek #the silmarillion #maedhros #maglor #my art #feanorianweek 2024 #what fades away #I'm disappointed I only managed to get 4 drawings done #i might still try to make some more before feanorian week is over #but I'm so drained and so busy #I guess we'll see #i love these boys so much #i really want to start writing What Fades Away again #i'm just wondering if anyone is still interested in reading it #as it's been a long time since i posted the last chapter #i need motivation

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 1

Title: Assembly’s and Introductions 

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Mild Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: There’s a new kid at your prestigious university, he’s tall, tattooed and muscular, and oh yeah, he’s the Prince. 

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, a general ‘lets get the ball rolling’ first chapter

Word Count: 5410

Release Date: January 26, 2023, 12:40PM

A/N 1: I’ve been working on this since September 2022, got 80K in, and have accidentally taken an extended break from Dec 1st until now. I need a kick in the pants to continue writing it so here’s the first chapter. I hope you enjoy as I have read this about 400 times and I’m sick of editing it.

A/N 1.5: it’s pronounced ‘Nehl” not “Neal”

“Come on, come ooooon!!” Yuri says as she drags you by one arm down the corridor, the other filled with books and study notes. You’re being dragged from your mid morning study session and she's starting to stretch your favourite sweater from how hard she’s pulling.

Slipping from her grasp to save it from any permanent damage, Yuri uses her new freedom to take the lead.

“Not everyone cares as much about this as you do,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I get you’re here because your parents put you here but I worked for it. I can’t just abandon my study plans for some guy,” voice echoing in the corridor as you succeed in keeping up with her quick pace.

Yuri mocks your words in gibberish, matching your tone, just more nasally.

She’s heard this hundreds of times since becoming your best friend in first year after being assigned your roommate. She may force you to go to places and parties you don’t find nearly as important as she does, but you also know she’s the only reason you’ve had any fun since starting university.

That doesn’t deter you though.

“I’m serious,” you insist, refusing to back down.

A look you know well flashes over her face. One that’s a mixture of absurdity and exhaustion— specifically at you.

“You know, sometimes I can’t even believe we’re friends. He’s not just some guy YN,” she looks over her shoulder to make eye contact. “He's the prince.”

Ah yes, the prince.

How could you be so foolish?

The fancy name given to the poor bastard who doesn’t get to decide his future—or work for it for that matter. Just has it handed to him because he was born at the right place, right time.

The prince who’ll be king to the biggest nation in the west one day.

The prince everyone freaks out over.

Sure, he’s cute enough, and will eventually have lots of money and power, because those are so important for someone like him.

But what’s money and power if you’re miserable or an asshole or you don’t know what to do with it? What’s money and power for someone who’s never known poverty and helplessness?

The title of Prince means nothing if you don’t earn it. Means nothing if you don’t know how to use it properly.

Who knows if this one does? So why should you particularly care?

Unfortunately, most people can’t get past the ‘young, handsome, future king of the Western Shores, hunk-a-hunk of dreamy’—blah, blah, blah, the media splatters over every magazine cover they possibly can, earning the prince a hefty social following of adoring, screaming—slightly brain dead if you had any say about it— ‘followers’ aka fans.

And Yuri, like every other girl on campus, is one of them. Minus the brain dead and screaming.

Well…Sort of minus the screaming.

She has screamed, in the past at least. So maybe just minus the brain dead part…

Anyways, she’s grabbing your wrist and you sigh, wringing yourself free of her near iron grip, again. But you can’t blame her.

Yuri’s focused on one thing, and one thing only.

And it’s beginning in 15 minutes.

“Plus I want good seats!”

You scoff.

“He’s just a person, Yuri. I get he’s got an important title and fancy job, but that’s all that separates him from us.”

She glares at you as you reach the courtyard of your school.

Trees surround the perimeter in evenly placed lines, a large running fountain at its center. There’s plenty of open grass space the students use to study, picnic or throw a ball around on. And its cobblestone walkways are currently covered in rows upon rows of filled up seats.

Most of those filled seats are in the middle though, which surprises you. You would’ve thought girls would be lining up at the front row to see their prince.

“Yeah, just the title and fancy job,” Yuri says, taking her turn to scoff and opens her hand to count on her fingers. “Let's not count the fact that he’s insanely hot—have you seen his body? His face? Or what of the land he’ll inherit on top of the land he already owns? And money! Can’t forget that. Or clothes. Not enough? I can keep going,” she switches to her other hand. “How about control over the largest kingdom in The West? They don't call him ‘Prince of the Western Shores’ for nothing, Sweets. Also the mass of adoring fans, security and advisors following his every move, nice cars, fancy vacation houses…should I keep going?”

You’re pretty sure she only stopped because she ran out of fingers and you don’t deign her with a reply. Yuri seems content to have made her point and she did. 

But you’d never admit that to her. Instead you keep walking, taking in the sights around you.

Your school is The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts. Anyone can study here if they have the cash, or the brains, though one method is much more abused than the other.

It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world because it’s where nearly every royal on this half of the continent goes to university. Hence the “Royal'' in the title.

Ladys, lords, dukes, duchesses, princesses and yes, princes all go here—are most of your classmates, actually. But there is only one prince everyone cares about. The one who, in the next few short years, will not only be at your school for whatever it is his father deems appropriate for him to study in his post secondary education, but the one who is also first in line and heir to the biggest kingdom in The West—if it hadn’t been mentioned before.

His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

Okay… look.

It’s not that you don’t like him, he hasn’t done anything to make you hate him, and you’re sure he’s a decent guy once you get to know him.

It’s just that you don’t really feel any type of way about him, positive or negative. And that confuses so many people around you.

Which in turn, confuses you.

Most people seem to think he’s some sort of god sent angel carved by the hands of whoever created the universe. Fawning over him and thinking he can do no wrong. But what they all fail to see is that he’s just like them.

Got a bit more of a leg up on life than most, sure, but still human. Like you, or Yuri.

He eats and showers and uses the bathroom. He gets a runny nose and puffy eyes when he’s sick. He has bad hair days and ties his own shoes… you think.

He’s just a regular guy with an irregular job. So no, you had no opinion on him other than disinterested neutrality.

But if you had to feel something? You guess you probably felt pity.

You worked your ass off in highschool to get where you are. You and your mom screamed until your voices were hoarse when you got your acceptance letter two and a half years ago. One of 25 scholarship students accepted on a full ride every year.

You were doing a major in fine arts and a minor business, wanting to milk your education for all it’s worth on their dime. Lucking out that your two areas of interest were not only at one school, but at one of the best schools in the world for both subjects.

You chose what you wanted for your life and you worked for it for years. And now you sit comfortably at the top of your class in both fine arts and business, not taking your opportunity for granted for a second.

Jungkook though? He’s expected to go here. Doesn’t have much of a choice about it, and he doesn’t have to work for it either.

A small part of you that has yet to mature envies him for how easy he has it, for the privileges he is given simply because of one six letter word in front of his name. That he didn’t have to put in 60 hour weeks and give up his teenage years just to prove he was good enough to be here.

He was born good enough.

But that’s a small part of you, and you can ignore it if you try hard enough.

The point is you felt pity because he’s probably never had to work for something a day in his life. He doesn’t know the satisfaction of working towards something, to not only succeed, but to be the best.

To earn what he has.

He won’t know what to do when real life hits him.

Yuri lets a baby scream loose as she spots her desired seats and yanks you out of your thought spiral. 

The front of the courtyard is still relatively empty, middle still filling up faster than anything else.

“Yes! Score! First row, left side, that’s perfect! He'll definitely see us.”

She grabs your arm a third time and it’s an effort not to drop your books and groan at her.

Yuri’s like you in the sense where she is not royalty, but unlike you she—or should you say, her parents—are loaded.

Family business perks.

She’s here because she can be, because her family can afford to send her and make donations, not because she wants to be or because she worked for it.

But don’t misunderstand that, Yuri works hard. She just happens to party more than she studies most days. That and plan her future with a very rich and handsome guy who has yet to be determined.

You’d jokingly deemed her a royalty hunter after about an hour of meeting her for how badly she wanted to ‘marry up.’

“See you,” you correct, or has she forgotten about Nel, your boyfriend of 5 years? Your high school sweetheart and who is currently, much to your dismay, at school about 5000 miles away.

“I’m sure Cornelius wouldn’t be mad if the prince charms his girl just once, seeing as his royal highness can do that to most people just by breathing near them,” she quips. ”And even if he would get mad, Jungkook can just have him thrown in a dungeon for being overprotective and jealous.”

“The royal palace doesn’t have dungeons, but they do have a series of interrogation rooms on the third lower level,” you inform her. You did a project on the history and architecture of the royal palace in tenth grade—and Nel really wouldn’t care, he knows where he stands, just like you do.

“How do you just know that!”

Yuri didn’t know you in highschool and you used that to your advantage every single time you could, laughing bright and loud.

She starts dragging you down the walkway again, a habit of hers. Like she’s worried you’ll try to slip away if she isn’t forcing you where she wants you to be.

It’s a good instinct on her part.

You're nearly there, so you focus more on the trees just starting to turn colours overhead, casting slightly pigmented shadows on the ground. Fall is just starting to creep up on the heels of summer, the days of sunscreen and chlorine slowly being replaced by pumpkin spice and crisp apples.

She sits exactly where she wanted too, and you plop beside her, glad you’re wearing a light sweater and tights. They are just warm enough to keep the slight breeze from giving you chills, but also keep your legs from sticking to the plastic seats.

For such an expensive school to go to you’d think they’d have better assembly furniture.

You notice a news camera off in the distance and suddenly understand the empty front seats. No one wants to publicly embarrass themselves on national television from seeing the prince, rewindable and replayable, forever seared into the internet.

It’s times like these you’re happy you’ve never been one to get starstruck. They’re all just people, why be shocked or surprised when they exist near you?

Opening up your books on your lap, you figure you can kill the next ten minutes in a productive way, considering what happened to your original plans for the mid morning.

And as you do, you feel the seats around you begin to fill, not a single one empty by the time the event starts.  Not even the ones up front.

A jerked movement catches your eyes and you see that two seats closer to the pedestal from Yuri is Adaline.

Great.

Adaline Dupree is basically a princess from the Eastern Shores. ‘Basically’ because she’s not, but she certainly acts like she is. A fake princess, an even bigger royalty hunter than your best friend and your not so secret arch nemesis.

She’s in your fine arts classes—all of them, unfortunately—her proper title being ‘Duchess of…’ some province you never bothered to learn the name of, and she’s one of the most well known people on campus.

Tall, with beautiful blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles, a slim figure and quite the socialite. You’re surprised she went into fine arts and not modeling. She’s got the ego part of the job down pat.

Good for her for being pretty. But anyone could be beautiful on the outside with enough money and a surgeon. That’s not why you considered her your nemesis, you don’t give a shit about any of that.

She was your nemesis in the academic world. Because not only was she beautiful, she was also brilliant at her craft.

Which happened to also be your craft, and it pissed you off to no end.

Where you were first, she was second and where she was first, you were second. Always neck in neck with one another, always trying to one up each other.

You only considered yourself better than her because unlike her, you hoped at least, Adaline was a complete and total bitch. She took what she wanted without remorse and she wasn’t above sabotage to get it.

You learned that the hard way in your first year. And you’ve always wondered if that was her privileged upbringing speaking or if she’s just like that naturally, so unused to not getting what she wanted that she’d take it.

Therefore, it is of absolutely no shock to you that she’s sitting as close as she possibly can to where the prince will be standing. Directly in front of the pedestal at the base of the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

A door opens to your right followed by a couple screams, and you can only assume the man of the hour has arrived. A red camera light flicks on in your peripheral vision and you take that as your confirmation and cue to close your books.

The Dean of Schools, a few advisor looking people, a good handful of terrifyingly large security guards, and a head of black hair you conclude to be the prince all make their way towards their destination.

A smirk graces your face at all the girls batting eyelashes or screaming his name, as if that would get his attention. You’re about to mention that exact thought to Yuri, but you notice her eyelashes looking awfully similar to those around you and can’t help failing to stifle a laugh.

She catches it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “You might just want to pick your jaw up off the ground.”

Her response gets cut off when a voice comes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for such a warm welcome,” says the Dean, calm and assured. She knew exactly the welcome they'd receive. “I’ll keep my introduction short. Today, I present to you not only the newest addition to The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts, but the future King of our great nation. He has requested to formally address the student body before he starts classes this fall semester, so without further adieu: His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.”

Riigghht. Did you mention he was the prince of the country you’re living in?

Well…he is.

The crowd soars in volume once more, a couple “I love you’s” thrown in for good measure as the prince steps up and you zone out.

From your angle, you can see his whole body from the side, and that even though he’s holding cue cards, he doesn’t use them, placing them face down on the pedestal.

His dark hair is swept back in a suave styling and he’s wearing a simple navy long sleeve button up, black dress pants and matching leather shoes.

The outfit makes him look ever so princely and very much not like a student. More like one of the faculty.

However, what you don’t expect are the small patches of ink on his arm peeking out of his right sleeve. Or just how tight the clothes he wears are on his apparently very muscular form.

You remember Yuri’s words from earlier, only now registering. You knew he had muscles, no one ever shut up about them. But seeing them in person… wow.

You kind of want to sketch him—for anatomy practice, of course.

The prince begins his address to the crowd and an eerie silence replaces the roars from earlier. You take a quick look around and notice that not one person isn’t completely transfixed on him. Even the dean can’t keep her eyes off him.

You give him credit for not balking under the intense gazes of literally everyone. You know you sure as hell would have, never being one to like being the center of attention. At least, not like this.

You clue into his speech as you look back at him. He’s talking about how he found himself as a teenager thinking of what he wanted his future to look like and what he wanted to do with his schooling, which is not only why he took a couple years to explore the continent before enrolling, but why he will be doing a major and a minor at the school.

One for his career, and one for his heart.

You won’t admit to yourself that the sentiment very closely resonates with you.

He continues.

“All that said, I asked to address you all today for one very simple reason, being that, for my time here at the academy, I wish to be treated like any other student. I am not unaware of my celebrity and how I am seen to the outside world. It is not lost on me my place in the world and who I am to become. I know for some that it may be… difficult to see me for anything other than who I am, and this is why I ask you humbly, just for the short while that I’m here, you all treat me no differently than you already do one another,” he pauses for a moment. “I extend my request most deeply to those who will be studying alongside me in my business administration major and photography minor, as I don’t want it to affect my studies.”

Yuri slaps her hand down onto your leg causing you to jerk forward and you clamor to not drop any of your books. Business administration is her major. Her parents want her to take over the family biz after school.

That was probably why she partied so much. Living as much as she can before being thrust into a job she doesn’t want for the rest of her life.

Pity creeps back up your throat at the thought.

Jungkook notices your jerking movement, but only for a second. His eyes meet yours and you hope yours convey ‘sorry for interrupting’.

You may not care about him, but just like him you are not unaware of his status in the world outside the walls of your school.

Yuri, of course, thinks he’s looking at her and not only does her grip on your leg tighten to the point of circulation cut off, she returns to her earlier routine of batting her eyelashes.

You roll your eyes away from her sight, but unbeknownst to you, well within the gaze of Jungkook.

He suppresses a smile at your response to your friend's clear attempts to gain his attention.

You, on the other hand, seem indifferent to him. He has the entire student body watching his every move with hawk-like precision, enraptured. Normal, for him.

But you?

You just seem to… not care. Like he wasn’t anyone special. Like the word in front of his name meant nothing.

And if it wasn't the most freeing feeling he’s felt in a long time.

“Thank you so much for your time, and I’ll see you all around campus,” he finishes before stepping down, security wrapping around him again until he’s barely visible. The dean pops up to conclude the gathering but you aren’t paying attention anymore, too busy trying to peel Yuri’s hand off your thigh.

“Yuri, retract the claws please!” you whisper-yell to your friend. And she does in fact, retract instantly.

“Shit, sorry. My brain is running a million miles a minute,” she says as she pinches herself, shaking her head and smiling. “I’m three years ahead of him in his major. His major YN! But he’s still older than us, which is so hot. I'm so glad he did that tour in the east and whatever else that kept him back for a couple years, it makes this whole situation even better,” you start to worry at the look in her eye as she continues.

“What if he needs a tutor? What if I become his tutor, and we fall in love like a cliche romance movie. I could be the future queen. YN, this could actually happen for me. I could actually get the prince, it’s not some wild dream anymore. I could talk to him and he would talk back and this could happen.”

You can feel that she’ll just keep spiraling, nothing being able to stop her train of thought at this point, so you try your best to at least have her do her thinking in her head.

“Maybe! I wish you nothing but luck!” And you mean it. You don’t think it will happen the way she does, but you never know. And you don’t want to give her false hope.

You’ve always been the realist to Yuri’s optimist.

With the assembly over, most of the crowd files out of the courtyard quickly, prior plans calling to them or classes starting soon.

Only a few stragglers are left behind. You and Yuri are two of them, as well as Adaline, and a couple more you don’t know.

Security starts to spread out and you watch as Jungkook makes his way to the people farthest from you, much to their delight.

It’s a group of guys, all of whom look muscular enough to be varsity athletes. Maybe Jungkook will want to do sports while he’s here. You know that he’s an accomplished rugby player, greatly to his fathers dismay, but to the pleasure of anyone who has about $10 and has access to magazines or wifi.

“Oh my god he’s making his way over. Do. Not. Move. I want him to come to us,” Yuri says, forcing you to stay in your spot. It would be fruitless to try anything anyway. Another lesson you learned the hard way in first year.

She starts fluffing her hair and asking you to check her teeth. You do. She’s in the clear.

Unfortunately, you two would most likely be the last people he greeted, so you had to watch as he made his way down the line of people.

He greets the guys with a handshake and a clap to the back, and the girls with a kiss to the top of the hand.

One thing you notice as he meets more and more people is that everyone still calls him ‘prince’ or ‘your highness.’

It’s automatic for them, they’re not even thinking twice about it, but it’s also completely besides the point of half of his whole speech. He wanted to be treated like everybody else.

It especially irked you when it was Adaline’s turn and she put on her most feminine, formal, and ridiculously overly flirty, “Hello, Prince Jungkook,” before curtseying, blasting her full facade of charm and courteousness.

Ever the dainty, prim and proper duchess, she’s all small laughs and less than subtle flirting, never impolite, and never speaking out of turn.

You wanted to gag, and you’re quite sure that’s exactly what your face conveyed. But Jungkook smiles wide for her, and is as kind to her as he was to everyone else prior. He even flirts back a little bit.

Yeah, you definitely want to gag. What a match those two would make.

But just as soon as he greets Adaline and her friend, he politely steps away and moves on to you and Yuri.

“Hello ladies, what might your names be?” he asks ever so formally.

You gently laugh at being called a lady and Yuri shoots you a look. Jungkook doesn’t appear to take offense though.

“Hello, your highness!” Yuri chirps in the most ‘I'm trying to flirt but trying to not sound like I’m flirting’ voice you’ve ever heard her use. “My name is Yuri Yeun, and I’m actually a business admin major too, just a few years ahead.”

Jungkook lifts her hand to his mouth, giving it a light kiss and she looks like she’s about to explode.

“It’s lovely to meet you Yuri, I’ll look forward to seeing you around the halls,” he says in the same tone he’s used for everyone else. He’s about to face you, but Yuri cuts in quickly.

“If you ever need any help with your studies, just let me know. I’d be happy to help you with anything you might need help with. Having already been through it, I may be able to give a students insight versus a professors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Thank you for your generosity.” Again that same tone, you mentally dub it his ‘greeting the public like the ever so good royal I am’ voice.

He turns to you and extends his hand for yours.

You reach for it, twisting it so that instead of a hand turned upright to be kissed, it’s a regular handshake. If he wanted to be treated like anyone else here, you sure as hell were going to.

“I’m YN, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.” At the mention of his name untitled, he pauses, eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not a bad pause, just a surprised one. And by the looks of the small smile on his face, a good one.

Yuri's eyes, on the other hand, almost bug out of her skull at your informal greeting.

“Likewise,” he manages to get out, completely unlike his usually composed self.

You're the only one who hasn’t addressed him with his title, and it’s the most like him he’s ever felt.

Twice in one day—in one hour—you’ve managed to make him feel more human and more like himself than he ever has. With your distinct indifference to him of all things.

Jungkook decides then and there he’s very sure he wants more of it in his life.

He still hasn’t stopped shaking your hand, and you don’t know why that’s the only thing you can focus on. His hand is firm and calloused, the kind that can only be built over years of hard work.

Releasing you the second you think it, he looks as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding on too.

Quick to step back into his princely role, Jungkook says, “Pardon my forwardness, but I just have to say that the two of you are beautiful, and that it’s been lovely to meet you both.”

You swear you see Yuri’s soul ascend from her body at his words. “Thank you, Your Highness! That means so much coming from someone as well met as yourself,” she nearly fawns, and you roll your eyes out of her sight for the second time today.

And for the second time today, Jungkook does not let the gesture go unnoticed. How you hold no fear in showing how you feel in front of others, even those you’ve just met. As if it holds no consequence. 

It doesn’t for you, he realizes. 

You can freely show how you feel without worry of anyone over-analyzing your every facial tic. No fear that a slight misuse of a lip quirk or eyebrow raise could give away national secrets or offend a visiting diplomat.

He envies you for it. For having that freedom he so rarely does.

“You’re most welcome, Yuri. I’m glad you hold my opinion in such high regard.” He flashes her that well practiced bright smile and you already know what she won’t be shutting up about it anytime soon.

“I’ve always been told I have my fathers bone structure but my mothers beauty. I’ll be sure to let them know their Prince thinks the combination is worth complimenting,” you respond, not braggadocious or sarcastic in the slightest.

You know it would make your mom so proud to hear the future king found you pretty, even if you knew the compliment was given to every girl here.

Your father wasn’t in the picture, but that didn’t matter and the prince didn’t need to know.

“I hope they won’t mind a stranger's compliment on their daughter then,” Jungkook says, ducking his head slightly and giving you a smaller smile.

This one felt genuine, like he wanted to hold it back but couldn’t. So you return a small one of your own, to let him know this was an even exchange. You may not feel any type of way about the prince, but you were raised to be kind.

“Any praise for their daughter from the future King would be welcomed any day, I’m sure,” Yuri cuts back in, killing his smile along with it.

You’re sad to see it go.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he responds, princely public persona back on. Stupid flashy smile back on. “What will you two be heading off to do now?”

“What I wanted to be doing for the last half hour in the first place before being hauled down here by this one,” you point a thumb at Yuri. “Finishing my study hour at the library,” you add quickly, before Yuri can get out her answer. You almost wish you hadn't because the hand that had your thigh in a death grip earlier now only somewhat playfully swats your shoulder.

“YN!”

“What!? I’m just being honest. He wants to be treated like anyone else right? That comes with people being honest to you instead of glazing over their answers with pretty little white lies to appease you.”

Yuri looks ready to rip you a new one, but she’s cut off again before she can open her mouth. This time by the prince.

“No, no it’s okay,” Jungkook says before she can swat you again. She stops mid swing at his words, eyes as wide as saucers at being stopped. “YN’s right, I appreciate the honesty, and I apologize for the interruption. I hope your studies will not be too greatly affected because of it.”

“Guess we’ll find out during midterm season,” you say with a smirk that turns into a genuine smile as you see Jungkook look panicked, like he actually thinks he messed up your education by disturbing your study session.

Relief quickly replaces the panic when he sees your smile and realises it was a joke.

Being treated like a regular person also meant being joked with at their expense, and he takes it in stride as his small smile from earlier makes a comeback.

“Well I have class in half an hour,” Yuri says, finally answering his question, “So probably grabbing a coffee from the cafe near the biz-admin building… I could show you if you want?”

“That sounds great actually, I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, lifts an arm for her to take and you watch them walk off, Yuri absolutely beaming as she glances back at you. You give her a thumbs up before collecting your books and heading back in the direction of the library.

Chapter Two: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

A/N 2: and so it begins.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook college au #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts fic #jungkook scenario #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x you #bts au #jungkook x y/n #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fanfic #twwwbaatta #assembly’s and introductions #yoonwrites

[fishsticksloser]

hi i LOVE your writing style so much😭 i was wondering if you could do the turtles with a reader whos an immigrant? reader has a thick accent, foreign name and clothing, will randomly spout off in their native language. i always read "y/n" in these and laugh wondering if theyd even be able to pronounce my name LMFAO

Immigrant!Reader

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff, short

A/N: I love how Tumblr basically saw that I said, "hey, i need this fixed cause I hardly ever have time on a pc" and they saw had a bug and said, "sucks, it'll be fixed in 1-2 weeks cause that's when we do that"

Donnie

He's fluent in so many languages

He is always trying to learn something new.

That's his goal

So if you happen to speak a language that he hasn't learned yet?

It's at the top of his to-do list

Donnie will make sure he gets it right

He doesn't want to embarrass himself or say something stupid

Leo

He learns with Donnie

Not as quickly, but he follows Donnie's footsteps in that sense

He likes seeing your face light up when he speaks in your native language

Leo works really hard

He may not be fluent but he's trying so hard

Mikey

He tries his best

He's not very good at learning new languages

Mikey gets a little discouraged and bored

But if you help him he feels more motivated

He really tries to pronounce things right

He picks up on things you say more often than actually learning

Raph

He really really tries

But Raph takes a while to learn things

While he's learning how to say your name and learning your language

He'll give you a cute nick name

Even when he learns it, he uses your nick name more often

He loves knowing he made it up just for you

#{fish answers•°} #rise donnie #rise leo #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rise raph #rise mikey #michelangelo hamato #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato #raphael hamato #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise x reader

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Okay every time I read one of your celtophobia posts I am filled with immediate and incandescent rage, enough to propulse the responsible idiots into space but not to bring them back again. I'm really sorry about the """""lecturer"""""" you had to sit through this morning, and any other instances that happen. Hugs.

That said, I am very worried of doing the same thing and want to make my utmost sure I don't, so I thought it'd be okay to ask someone from a language that has to fight for space for politeness tricks. Apologies if this is not okay!

Context: I'm from continental Europe, which means English is my second language (I speak three languages and a half ish, the half is in process, because #languagenerd). I'm moving to Ireland come September, and I'm absolutely terrified of offending the good Irish people when I don't know how to pronounce their names, surnames, street names, or anything else; or, worse, try and end up butchering them in the manner of the British.

Dilemma: How can I ask for help when pronouncing things in a delicate way? I was thinking of signing up to Irish courses once I'm there, but for now I'm panicking about the actual move so I can't get a head start with that because my brain space is limited, and other than watching YouTube videos with the most common Irish names/words ahead of arriving, I honestly don't know. I want to be culturally sensitive and make sure they feel respected and not Colonised, Part Three Hundred, but also they shouldn't have to bear the weight of my lack of cultural knowledge and Teach Me? Idk. Just thoughts.

Good question! I suppose it's a two-part procedure:

Step 1: Learn a pronunciation guide. By that I just mean get to grips with the alphabet, common phonemes, etc and how those are said. With something like Welsh it's super easy (because phonetic), something like English it's super hard (because not phonetic); Irish is a bit more complex than Welsh, but still more phonetic than English. You might not be able to get to a "perfect every time" place, but you can get yourself to a "right most times" place.

Step 2: If you encounter a name you aren't 100% sure of, offer your best educated guess when asking. This shows that you have done the work, you are making a genuine attempt, but you still have the humility to ask to make sure.

When I say "best educated guess", I mean it's clear that you're guessing based on a working knowledge of the language rules in question. In Welsh, for example, if someone asks me how to pronounce "Cymru", there is a world of difference between someone saying "Sim-roo" (based on English pronunciation rules transposed onto Welsh) and "Kim-ree" (based on Welsh pronunciation rules, they just forgot which pronunciation of 'y' to use for the syllable it's in.) If someone says to me "How do you say that? Sim-roo?" then I know they haven't attempted any prior learning (though points for being interested enough to ask.) But if they say "Am I right in thinking it's Kim-ree?" then I know they've made the effort themselves, they've done the work, they just have a carry error that's skewed the answer.

Plus, you may well be right! And will be right more and more often the longer you're in Ireland.

If it helps, there's an Irish pronunciation guide here that's pretty good (or was back when I used it), and teanglann.ie is a pretty good resource for this, as it's a dictionary that lets you hear the words aloud and explains grammatical uses. (Irish people please feel free to add any other resources to the notes if you feel so inclined!)

As a final note, mind, given that you don't have time atm to dedicate brain space to this, speaking as a Welsh person I would be absolutely fine with someone saying to me "Sorry, I haven't had chance to learn yet, how do I say this?", or some variant thereof. Or, frankly, anything that's just... a polite request, and not laughing about it. I would take a thousand instances of "How do I say that? Sim-roo?" over even one "I don't know how to say that, haha" because the former is still caring enough to ask. So don't panic! A polite request will see you right.

#asks #wales! #closed for cleaning on mondays #linguistics

[starrclown]

I saw a post by @nightmarebunnyking talking about the Wukong can't read headcannon and I wanna add my two cents.

I dont like it. Big shocker.

But I don't like it because of he's my favorite or something like that. I just don't think it makes sense for him.

I think Lmk is trying to make it seem like Wukong can't spell or read. The one scene I remember that makes It seem like this is where Wukong and Macaque are arguing and Wukong spells dead like "ded."

For Wukong I don't think that makes sense. He's called The Intelligent Stone Monkey for a reason.

Wouldn't it make sense that Macaque doesn't know how to write and read in modern Chinese? This isn't even to call Macaque stupid or something, think about it. He's been dead for hundreds of years until he was brought back.

He out of all characters shouldn't know how to read or write because he wasn't around for the shift. Wukong was.

Also I can name so many reasons or explanations of why he can read.

Didn't he make his own game? That implies that he not only understands how to read and write, he also knows code.

He has emails from his lawyer. He has to be able to work a Gmail account.

If you didn't know in the book, the baby monkies can talk like a normal person. I fully believe that Wukong would learn modern language to teach them because he would have to be able to communicate with them in a modern way if something happens.

What I think would be more realistic is that Wukong struggles with modern language. Like he can still read and write but maybe some words confuse him or he has a hard time pronouncing them.

Hell you could twist that into a moment with any character.

Of the top of my head, maybe it bothers Wukong that he can't speak fluently. Maybe he thinks he's stupid. He may have trouble communicating to people like Redson or Mei or Pigsy because he gets words wrong and it's hard to interpret what he means.

I could make that into a sweet bonding moment between Mk and Wukong. Mk sees It bothers Wukong because he can't speak properly to the others. He could sit down and help Wukong and they could have their bonding.

This could apply to and Wukong duo.

You like Tang and Wukong as a duo? Tang helps Wukong read a book that has words he struggles with. Boom. Bonding moment.

Mei and Wukong your thing? Mei teaches Wukong modern kid slang so he can teach them to the baby monkies. Boom.

Hell this can go to shipping.

If your a big ShadowPeach shipper then Wukong teaching Macaque how the language works now. The two of them could sit down, read, and learn new words together.

I hope I articulated this well. I just saw their post and wanted to get my point across.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid macaque #monkiekid #monkie kid sun wukong #monkie kid macaque #lmk headcanon #honestly i think this makes more sense #this is the 1 time i wont slander Macaque #lmk mk #lmk tang #lmk mei #lmk shadowpeach

[whalesforhands]

HAII NYV!! hope ur doing well!!

tbh,, i’ve been thinking. How do you think SSS trio would feel about Dyf!mc going the same path suguru did? (Yk, seeing riko die and going spiraling to the point that she leaves jjt n stuffs,,) Do you think they would try and beg her to stay? Or would they let her go willingly because they’ve always wanted the best for Mc? Also, when they see each other after 11 years, Who sees her first?

tbh ive js been having brain rot of dyf so like…a million AUs are coming to me about it at once LMFAOO. but hope ure doing well, love ur writing xx

tw: yandere

lol why does ur spelling of name perfectly describe how it’s meant to be pronounced

what makes you think you’re even allowed to leave them behind like that? what makes you think you’re even able to leave them so freely?

you won’t survive out there on your own, are you just trying to die quicker? are you just trying to make them suffer just as much as you?

you’re in pain. they know, they know. you’ll get food placed outside your room’s locked door, have all 3 of them talk to you from outside too. sometimes it’s all 3 of them hanging around, sometimes it’s just 2, sometimes it’s just 1.

it’s gojo satoru that has had enough of your slump, kicking your door down with little to no effort as you flinch from shock, hiding under your blankets when you feel the dip of your mattress, and a head landing atop of your cocooned self, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“I didn’t wanna do that, ya know? You’re making things hard.”

it’s only then that he would lay down next to your form, an arm over your waist and spooning you from behind as you start to break down even harder, taking his intrusion and hoarding the comfort he gave you in this moment.

and your door’s been broken so many times you decided to just leave it unlocked… letting him and the others come and go as they please, letting him wrap his long arms around you at every given chance, letting him kiss you on the forehead every morning he gets to spend in school, telling you that he’ll be back from a mission soon.

maybe that was how it started.

“There are no missions for you, (last name).” Yaga’s scratching his head as he flips through his clipboard, carefully scanning the words.

“W-what? Why?” Your arms are shaky as you hug a Baby Panda close to yourself, soft purrs emanating from him as you pet him mindlessly. You’ve been loitering around in the campus for… Close to 3 months now.

“I’m quite confused as well. There haven’t been any curses within your grade level as of recently—“ He pauses as he flips through more papers, eyes narrowing behind dark sunglasses. “There just isn’t—“

“Then m-may I take one above my grade? T-that would put me on grounds for promotion, right?”

“You can, but there aren’t any sorcerers available to invigilate and recommend you for promotion anytime soon. Earliest I could find one is—“ The incessant flipping of papers stop.

“In about 6 months.”

ieiri shoko lets you roam around the school campus, watching you, talking to you, trying to improve your mental health. she prods you to speak your mind, convinces you that the world outside was the one that was going insane, that it wasn’t you that felt trapped, felt cornered in here.

“The campus is where you can be safe from such things. Don’t sweat it.”

and you believe her. why wouldn’t you? she’s your beloved shoko. shoko who teaches you how to do first aid when she notices how lost and listless you’re becoming, who teaches you how to treat wounds, how to stitch up open cuts, how to stop internal bleeding… all just to take up your time. she’s patient with you, holding your hands, letting you take tea breaks with her… it’s peaceful with her. you’re at ease.

so much better than being out on field, right?

geto suguru takes his time with you. he reads your favourite manga with you, asks you about the novels you have been eyeing and wanting to buy, talks about the soba noodles he had on that one trip to nagoya... hell, he’s the one who cooks food for you and helps you clean your room when he thinks you’re getting sloppy.

“Let me do it for you, okay? You’re not looking well enough to do it on your own.”

maybe that was when you thought to yourself that, maybe, just maybe… you didn’t want to leave this place.

though, if you still have some fight in you…

out of all three of them, the one who would most probably fold to your whims and let you leave is suguru. maybe when you go limp in his arms, break down crying into his chest, go quiet when he attempts to feed you…

or maybe it was that decisive kiss under the blankets of darkness, a show of your desperation and longing for something more than this that he starts to crack, starts to break. it’s then that he finally thinks that, maybe, perhaps, he needs to let you go. he’s always been quite the emotional one.

11 years of free roam? more like 11 years of surveillance. it’s not like you were allowed to go with no strings attached, you were still standing on soil that wasn’t Jujutsu Tech ground because they’re the ones who have given you this right.

they’re the ones who let you go have fun, even letting you get a job as a regular salary worker, let you get a quaint little apartment nearby, let you live the life of a regular person.

but no, oh no. you wanted to play hero again when you saw a little girl getting chased, hunted by a curse? wanted to save a life again because that’s what you could do? wanted to do?

And you got hurt from your decisions?

let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.

#dyf au #satosugu x reader #ieiri shoko x reader