#until then its glowy eye time

[pinkbeetroot]

less eyes under the cut (statement found in MAG142)

#ik the green glowing eye thing has been done 1000000 times over but #not by me #ill think of my own little jarchivist in the future #until then its glowy eye time #scopophobia #tma #jonathan sims #the archivist #ceaseless watcher #the magnus archives #tma podcast

[imwetforyourmom]

good for you

(if you dont like how its written do not hesitate to ask mw to rewrite it!!)

warnings: smut, praising, kissing, teasing (?), swearing, dom!matt sub!reader, fem!reader, established relationship, making out

a/n: sorry this took so long to get out!! I coupdnt find any motivation to finish it. so thats mb

request

not proofread

~

y/n slipped the navy blue dress up her body. her eyes scanned the dress one last time, deciding if this was going to be her final decision of the night.

a mid high thigh slit, the blue silk perfecting her skin tone, making it a shiny-ish glow.

the clothing latching onto her skin perfectly,

showing her beautiful curves, the prominent curve forming by her waist and hips. the shimmery blue reflecting onto her skin, giving it the glowy look.

the dress straps hung loosely onto her shoulders, if it were to be tugged on of some sort the straps would easily slip off.

but as good as she looked currently in the dress, she imagined she looked even better without the dress.

the lacy black lingerie currently clinging onto her skin under her dress, the small clothing translucent everywhere but where her nipples and clit were. leaving little to the imagination.

where the lingerie covered y/ns sensitive areas the flowery pattern was jet black and soft.

she ran her hands over her dress, down her hips and the top of her thighs.

inspecting her body and the soft dress one last time, deeming herself gorgeous she walked away from the mirror and to her vanity, grabbing her phone and small bag.

she walked down the stairs, where matt was sitting on the couch, waiting for his girl to finish.

"alrighty matt! im ready now." she spoke, her lips a shameless grin as she walked to the door, bending over and slipping on her heels.

"you look beautiful, baby." he mumbled, his eyes scanning from her ass to the back of her neck, his footsteps got closer to her until his hand touched her lower back.

he ran his hand up her back, until it reached the back of her head. he leaned down and whispered into her ear, "cant wait to take it off you tonight, love."

he pulled away, to put on his shoes.

y/ns cheeks went a dark red, her blush coating her face, all over her face.

not like she hadnt planned for sex later, but matts words really fucking got to her, too much.

• • •

matt slowly zoned out, staring at the woman he loved so dearly, who was currently talking to other people but looked so effortlessly perfect as she did so. the blue dress clinging to her skin so beautifully and her smile a lively and lovely expression.

y/n continued her chat with the woman who stood infront of her. the woman whom was 'Mrs. rosé' was very nice. she was soft spoken and spoke very highly of her husband.

endless compliments about Mr. Rosé slipped from Mrs. Rosé tongue so easily, as if she was speaking with genuine thought, like she'd been thinking it for years but waiting to finally say it.

matt had finally gotten enough of just watching his girlfriend, he'd been thinking about her touch, the way her body would feel, the way her eyes would look up at him.. yearning for his touch.

she just looked so perfect (not like she never did), too perfect to not be praised, too perfect to not be touched, too perfect to not be kissed.

he felt his pants tighten as he stared at her, his eyes moving across her body. the blue dress coating it, shielding her beauty from the hideousness of the worlds eyes, the eyes that took for granted, the eyes that judged, the eyes that disrespected.

he finally got enough of it, he wanted his girl and he wanted her now. he excused himself from the conversation he was supposed to be paying attention too, but was too distracted by y/ns beauty to give a fuck. he walked over to y/n and whispered into her ear, his eyes glancing at the woman she was just talking to.

"can we go home, please?" he whispered, his breath sending shivers down y/ns spine. y/n reluctanly agreed and said a quick bye to Mrs. Rosé, before going with matts neediness, his hands on her waist and squeezing as he waited.

she began walking to the exit of the event, leaving matt to follow after her like a lost puppy. his quick footsteps to folllow after her, not without taking a few glances at the way her ass looked in the dress. god, this dress was doing things to him.

• • •

on the drive back, matts leg bounced, needing her, needing her so bad yet couldnt touch her, atleast not till they got home that it.

his hand squeezed the steering wheel, his knuckles turning a white with the force he was using. he took sharp inhales as he got closer and closer to home, just thinking about how y/n would look laid on their bed, laid flat on her back with her legs spread and ready just for him.

his hard-on was already painful enough, but thinking about y/n in such ways as he was was only worsening the pain, his throbbing cock begging to be put to use.

y/n glanced at matt, her eyes traveling over his body, her eyes taking in just how hot and bothered he looked, yet she couldnt put her finger on why.

his cheeks a hue of pink, his bottom lip between his teeth, his hair disheveled and messy with how many times hes run his hand through it in an anxious manner, his leg bouncing furiously slightly shaking the car as he did so. her eyes moving just slightly higher on his leg, the tent in his pants catching y/ns eye.

she chuckled as she realized why he was acting the way he was, clearly the boy needed some sort of relief and couldnt way long enough for the event to end.

even with seeing how bad he needed her she didnt do anything about it, knowing she'd be more satisfied with his reaction when they got home and he'd see her in the black lingerie underneath her dress.

• • •

as soon as matt and y/n had made it in his room he acted quickly, his hands moving fast to shut and lock the door behind him, aswell as grabbing y/n and attaching her lips to his in a fast manner, the kiss wet and needy, teeth clashing together, tongues intertwining and matts hands moving all over y/ns body.

his large palms groping the plush of her ass, kneading at it, before slapping it but then going back to kneading the skin.

matt pulled away and looked y/n in the eyes, before he broke eye contact and glanced down at her body, motioning at her dress, slightly asking if he could take it off.

y/n giggled, knowing what was to be in store. matt was already needy and horny enough, just imagine how he'd react when he saw what was under the dress.

she nodded and moved her hands to the strap of her darkish blue dress, pulling down the straps and letting it fall down her body. faster than she intended it fell to her feet, exposing the lacy, flower pattern lingerie.

matts eyes almost bulged out of his head, his jaw falling ajar and his hands working faster than his mind could, immediately going to grope her boobs. a muttered "you're absolutely breathtaking, oh my fuck." leaving the barrier of his lips.

he put his hands on her waist and pushed her to the bed, plopping her down onto it. he moved quickly, his hands going to the hem of his shirt and pulling it off, then reaching for her bra, his eyes glued to the lacy, almost see through material.

"I cant believe you wore this all night, just for me" he whispered, his voice quiet and his cheeks a pink as he stared down at her body, his eyes leaving a burning feeling all throughout y/ns body.

he leant his head down, his lips ghosting over the skin of her breasts, still with the bra. his hands unclipped the clasp of the bra and gently pulled it off her shoulders. his eyes widening at the sight of his girlfriends beautiful, beautiful body.

"holy shit y/n.. you're so pretty." he spoke with sincerity, being so stunned by her beautiful tits like he hadnt seen them literally two days ago. his head ducked down to pepper hot and wet open-mouthed kisses all over her chest, before focusing on her nipple. the wetness of his mouth covering her nipple sending shivers down her spine.

the sucking and the light biting of his mouth on her hardened nipple eliciting a moan from y/ns mouth. her back arching as matts cold fingers went to her other nipple, pinching and massaging. he pulled his mouth away from the one, before attaching it to the other and repeating his previous actions to it.

he pulled away from both nipples as his hands went to the waistband of his pants, trying to unbutton and pull his boxers down quickly, needing to be inside her, needing to feel her.

y/ns hands went to the waistband of her own panties, hooking her fingers into them and pulling them down her legs, pulling her legs to her chest to help herself pull them off.

then spreading them and placing them on the sides of her, giving matt the perfect view of her pussy.

he groaned at the sight, his mouth falling open and his hands going to positon himself at her entrance, her arousal covering his dick quickly.

he pushed his tip in, already grunting at the feeling. "a- are you ready, baby?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers as he waited to push fully inside her.

"yes, fuck, matt please." she whined, her bottom lip feeding between her teeth in anticipation. needing him, needing more of him.

he placed both hands at either side of her sides, balacing his weight onto them as he pushed the rest of his cock inside her.

a groan leaving his lips while a whimper leaves y/ns. a burning sensation flooding throughout her body as he bottoms out. already finding himself whimpering with how good she feels and hes only been inside her for a few seconds.

"fuck, baby, you feel so good." he mumbled, slowly pulling his hips out, until he was almost all the way out, before thrusting back in.

a gutteral scream escaped y/ns throat, a scream so brutal and loud it scraped her throat—from matts sudden quickened pace, his hips thrusting concerningly fast into hers, his cock filling up her tight walls.

"matttt- fuckkk" she moaned, her back arching and her eyes rolling back, he'd only been in her for a few minutes and she was already at a loss of words.

"mm, you're taking me so well." he praised, his eyes taking in the sight of his girlfriend, her messy hair, a light layer of sweat on her skin, her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes just barely staying open.

y/n spread her legs wider, and pushed them to the sides of her hips leaving matt right between her legs, his cock getting an even better angle into her, going deeper into her.

matt moaned feeling the way y/ns walls hugged his dick, it all feeling so perfect. "fuck, this pussy was made for me" he mumbled, his voice coming out in a low, gutteral tone.

y/n threw her head back, her mouth falling open as pornagrapical moans escaped her lips.

matt grabbed her chin with his pointer and thumb, pulling her face foward and attaching his lips to hers, in a hot and sloppy kiss, yet passionate. full of teeth colliding, exchanging spit and tongues dancing together.

matt rocked his hips into hers, before pulling away from y/ns lips and thrusting into at an even faster pace, if that was even fucking possible.

he placed a hand on a her hip whilst the other on the bed, to both support him and to ensure his girlfriend wouldnt go flying off the damn bed.

"you're incredible." matt groaned, his eyes falling to her eyes, keeping them there to the best of his abilities while still going mercyless into her.

"hmm- ngh—" she moaned, she threw her head back as her eyes rolled back and long, drawn out moans slipped so effortlessy from her lips.

matt stared down at her, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, but also curling slightly.

he grabbed y/ns chin and tilted it upwards so it was facing him, "look at me, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes and that pretty face of yours, hm?" he mumbled, his thumb rubbing her cheek so innocently, as if he wasnt doing a very sinful action to her aswell.

"'m close, matty-" she spoke, her voice breathy and quiet. cutting herself off with a moan. the tightening in her stomach only tightening within each passing second.

her eyes stared up into his as best as she could, her eyelids droopy, her mouth ajar and her noises failing to sound as she was way too fucked out.

"yeah? you gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl?" he praised, his hand coming to her clit, rubbing the bud in tight, slow circles.

"fUck" y/ns voice broke, her back arched and her eyes rolled back.

her high approached fast, and the only warning she could give matt before she was climaxing was, "im- cu- matttt" a failed attempt, that was full of pleasure. matt continued thrusting, chasing his own high now.

matts eyes trailed down to her lower stomach, seeing the protruding dick imprint in her lower abdomen, "I fill you so deep, dont I baby?" he mumbled, his hips sputtering as his own high approached quickly.

"fuck, you feel so good" was all he said before he painted her walls white, a hoarse groan escaping his lips.

he continued thrusting, riding out his high before collasping ontop of y/n, still inside her.

"you did so good for me, baby" he mumbled, he pulled out before wrapping his arms around her waist and moving onto his side, pulling her in and holding her.

y/n moved her head into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him and cuddling her body into his. slowly drifting off to sleep.

2479 words.

tags

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @dollyspsychoxo @sturnib-tch @b2cute @livvy4realll @graysturns @wh0resstuff

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #Spotify #mollys requests

[1800titz]

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin. 

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places. 

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter. 

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals. 

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents. 

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes. 

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.” 

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder. 

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band. 

“Can I grab you another?” 

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip. 

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth. 

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?” 

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice. 

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures. 

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc. 

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation. 

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth. 

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again. 

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split. 

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation. 

It’s a different story behind the door. 

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges. 

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?” 

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again. 

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together. 

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.” 

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway. 

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet. 

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters. 

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing. 

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to. 

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana. 

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.” 

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph. 

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough. 

Eventually. 

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat. 

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock. 

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.” 

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing. 

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head. 

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini. 

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

[jeanbie]

FANTASIZE ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!human!reader, semi-public sex, piv sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, breeding kink, cumming inside, glowy cum | wc: 16k | ♬

note: i've been promoted to: avatar writer. my first time writing for it (def not my last!) lemme know what u think ;-) also his smirk in the header....GET INSIDE ME

★ ⏤ fantasize | all the time (if you were mine)

⏤ It's official - Jake is sick and tired of Norm giving him shit. While he can't claim to know as much about Pandora as Norm does, there's still a few things Jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that Norm's sister works as a scientist in the lab - which to Jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

It’s official — Jake has had enough of Norm’s bitching and whining.

For the last two months, Jake has endured a lot, more than he ever asked for or wanted; whether it was Neytiri on his ass about becoming an Omatikaya and never missing a single beat of training for it, Grace nagging him about video logs, or even Norm giving him so much shit over every single thing he didn’t spend three years learning in simulations and classrooms — he’s sat and listened to all of it without complaint. 

Jake has never once fought back, never once raised his own grievances about how tedious and time-consuming everything actually is on one man’s shoulders, and yet it all keeps coming.

The worst thing is that he can understand all of it to an extent. There’s a necessary need for attentiveness when learning the ways of the Omatikaya, and the longer it takes, the worse his chances get with the rest of the clan. The video logs? They’re not that important, Jake thinks, but it keeps Grace off his back for the small kernel of time he actually spends in the real world and not inside of his avatar. 

But with Norm, Jake can’t seem to understand what is actually bothering him enough to be so goddamn bitter about every little thing.

Of course, he’ll never fit into Tom’s shoes, not in the way everybody expects him to. He didn’t spend three years of his life learning how to control an avatar or how to function on Pandora — every day is quite literally a learning experience, a practical education that neither a lab nor a stuck up prick like Norm can teach. 

And, while he’s on the subject, Jake actually thought Norm would be a decent ally, at least until he almost died and got saved — with reluctance — by the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and somehow ended up being thrust into learning their way of life. 

Nobody seems to remember the giant part of the story concerning how he almost got devoured by an oversized dog in the process.

Instead, Norm wants to bitch about how Jake knows nothing, and treats him like a genuine idiot. Jake might be a few years short of being educated on the Na’vi, but he’s not stupid. He can still do stuff, stuff that Norm can’t; but reasoning with the man is like trying to convince the Na’vi that the Sky People are actually friends and not foes, and it’s pretty obvious that that’s never going to happen.

When Norm begins his daily ritual of berating Jake on his lack-of knowledge regarding the Hallelujah Mountains that surround their shitty little containment, Jake’s willing to sit through it and take it like a champion. 

Norm starts weaving his conspiracies to the cluster of scientists about how Jake is a terrible candidate for joining the Omatikaya clan and that all he cares about is sucking up to the Chief’s daughter — not true, by the way, for Neytiri can only stomach being near Jake because she has to and on rare occasions, he can do something absurdly dumb to make her laugh — and Jake begins to mentally tap out of the debate, rolling his eyes to the side and sighing as he watches you duck your head through a low archway with a bowl of slop in your hands.

Jake watches you for around three seconds before the lightbulb flickers alight above his head.

And then he grins.

It’s hard to believe that you and Norm are related — Jake can’t find any similarities between the two of you. You’re incredibly compassionate and communicative, never letting Jake suffer in his silent struggle of stupidity, and not to mention you’re incredibly beautiful; whereas Norm is just… Norm. A bitter, angry, red-faced man who does a piss poor job at hiding his insatiable jealousy of how wasting your life in a classroom or behind a book actually means very little in the grand scheme of achieving your goals. 

Example A: Jake of the Jarhead clan, ex-military, future Omatikaya. Cross-reference to Norm: sad loser. Jake signs his name on the mental essay he’s compiling as Norm drones on about culture and ignorance and narrows his gaze on you as you close in on the group.

Jake’s actually always liked you. You’re a no nonsense kind of woman who loves science and the Na’vi, and, unlike your brother, you actually treat him like an equal. Even now, as you slip next to him and lean back against the low metal work-surface, you meet Jake’s gaze with an eye-roll and smile, and his grin only widens from it.

Oh, how he loves that you like him. Although you spend so much time engrossed in your work and documenting on paper whatever Jake recites from his daily activities within the clan, Jake happens to know that you like him, and in hindsight, it’s never been a secret. For the first time, Jake lets himself consider the possibility of that being just another reason for Norm to suddenly despise him, but the idea warms his stomach rather than churns it.

“I can totally see Jake ruining all of our chances at building bridges by just burning them all together,” Norm huffs, folding his arms and wrangling a dirty glare in his direction. Jake welcomes it with the same smile that’s been blooming over his face for the past two minutes, which worsens Norm’s mood. 

“I don’t see you building any bridges, either,” you say to Norm. “Jake’s been more valuable to this program than you have as of late.”

Norm bristles. “One of us has actually been doing research while the other is trying to seduce an Olo’eyktan’s daughter—”

“Jake’s doing field research, Norm,” Grace says, her eyes still glued to her microscope. “And he knows better than to seduce anybody when we haven’t properly studied the relations between Na’vi and avatars yet. And there are bigger issues at stake right now.”

“I can get results on that if you want me to,” Jake offers.

“No, Jake.”

Jake shrugs. While Norm continues his tirade against Jake’s rather noble endeavours with the Omatikaya, he turns his gaze back towards you and lets his mental clogs turn.

At this point, Jake thinks that even if you agreed with some of Norm’s points, it wouldn’t make any difference. There is absolutely nothing he can do to please Norm, and so maybe he should just stop trying. Then again… There’s something hideously funny in how worked up Norm gets when somebody jumps to his defence, particularly you.

And considering most of Norm’s insecurities come from seeds he planted all by himself without any concrete evidence to support most of the points, Jake knows that anything he does from here on out will drive Norm into a slow burning insanity.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair?” Jake asks suddenly.

Norm huffs. “Of course not. It’s because you don’t take any of this seriously. Everything is a game to you. All of us here have spent years building up to this assignment while you read a manual and called it a day.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m one of the best avatar drivers here,” Jake says smugly. Grace finally looks over with an irate look — something tells him he wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that she had told him that. 

Norm’s face turns a whole new shade of pink. 

“I’m also a quick learner. The Omatikaya are trusting me more and more each day, so while I go out there and find out valuable field research for this program—” Jake looks at you with a deliberately sweet look and you laugh quietly, “—you can stay here and look at plants and mud and cells.”

“You probably don’t even know what a cell is.”

“Sure I do. Where they lock up all the bad guys.”

Norm opens his mouth to say something more, probably missing the joke like he does every time, but this time Grace swirls in her chair and sighs loudly, looking between the two of them like they were children.

“Alright, ladies, you’ve measured your dicks at equal length. You’re both doing good work around here, so Norm, why don’t you just let Jake go back to doing his work with the Omatikaya and you can just get some rest. Jesus, you’re both making everyone miserable, it’s affecting my work ethic…”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Norm,” Jake calls, and Norm gives him a filthy scowl before snatching his things up off the desk, holding them secretively to his chest as he stomps towards the back room lined with their bunks. 

Jake feels the dark and evil energy follow him out the room and then he finally looks around the lab in disbelief. 

“Jake, go, you’ll be late, don’t keep Neytiri waiting,” Grace reminds him, switching off the bulb to the microscope and stretching her arms as Trudy claps her hands and silently announces her retirement to the bunks after Norm. “Don’t forget to make a log when you get back. Don’t let him forget, will you, Spellman?”

Grace looks at you with a look that suggests no room for negotiation. It was an order. She collects her things, claps Jake on the shoulder and grabs a cigarette from the net by the archway and takes it with her towards her separated bedroom. 

When the door to her little cubicle rattles shut, Jake shakes his head with a quiet laugh and rolls himself forward, giving you room to assemble your own work station where he had just been.

“Staying up late tonight?” he asks you, taking a swig of water before pushing one of the buttons to the link unit, waiting as it whirs to life.

You settle your stuff down and walk towards him. “Yep. I actually do have some work on cells to finish up.”

Jake’s lips quirk. “Not your usual ballpark, is it?”

“No, but there’s not really a surplus of Na’vi around here to communicate with,” you say in reply, rummaging with the unit to help Jake into the gel pack mattress. Usually he dismisses the help, but when it’s you helping him get comfy, then he’ll stomach his pride and accept your kindness. He’s surprisingly light, as normal, and you frown. 

“Don’t forget about the real world, Jake, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he assures you. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Another thing that will shave a few years off Norm’s life — Jake bringing you things, extraordinary and otherwise unattainable when stranded in the mountains things for you to study and report. You hum thoughtfully at the offer, pushing his head down softly when he wriggles restlessly, a little to eager to get to whatever he’s doing in the forest tonight.

“If you happen to cross paths with a tsawksyul, a simple cutting would be appreciated,” you tell him, opting for something a little more simple than normal, considering Jake’s busy these days training. “If you don’t forget while you’re busy seducing daughters, of course.”

Jake’s grin returns, if not out of genuine amusement then just to see you smile in return and do the little head-tilt thing that Jake’s discovered he adores.

“Not my thing. More into scientists,” he tells you, watching in the final moments before you shut him in the pod at how you shake your head and turn yourself away from him.

There was no rejection. No refusal. Just a smile.

A smile that sets his plan into motion.

No wonder Norm is always in a terrible mood. You find that his notes on the cells found in the mossy undergrowth of the forest is as chaotic as it can possibly be, which has left you using Grace’s Bible on Pandora botany as a guide and squinting to find the connections between his barely legible notes.

It’s basic knowledge that when cells die and a genetic material begins to unfold, a charge of energy is released; this concept has been the fundamental structural point to Norm’s notes on the moss and how each step at night causes a ricochet of expanding light, but there has to be something more than everybody is missing. Even in Grace’s book, there’s not enough information regarding how it works; if it’s connected to Eywa, if it is a response to another organism, whether it breathes and lives as its own entity.

Alongside Norm’s notes, you very sparingly begin to make an analysis of the communicative features of Pandora plant life, and begin jotting a vocabulary to use in a later research assignment, when a sudden knock against the glass above your head makes you jump quite literally up and out of your seat.

The Hallelujah Mountains are so isolated from the rest of the human population on Pandora and used rarely by the Na’vi during the night, but you distinctly make out Jake’s looming form standing outside with a smile on his face and relax. His skin is a bioluminescent explosion of colour, and for a moment you’re struck dumb staring at him until he waves his hand as if beckoning you outside.

You throw a cautious look over your shoulder, but the lab is silent and still. With that in mind, you reach for one of the exo-packs and shrug on your cardigan hanging on the back of the chair you were just on and hesitantly begin to make your way outside.

Very sparingly have you been outside of Site 26 to explore, and never once on your own. Grace has drilled into you the strict importance of respecting the laboratory rules and curfew, and if you’re going to wander outside after hours in the name of research, then please, wake her up too. 

But you won’t be alone out there, not when Jake is waiting for you outside.

Jake drops to a squat in anticipation when the airlock doors to the lab force open with a wheezy breath, and he sees you cautiously step out and secure a button on your cardigan in place. The gesture almost makes him croon. He rarely sees you at night since he’s learned the value of getting rest in between his adventures in his avatar, but now he can’t believe what he’s been missing out on seeing past his bedtime.

You look tired, your hair out of place and messy, but he recognises your attempt to look more alert when you step towards him with a slight bounce.

“Hey, tìyawn,” he calls to you, as you stare up at him even whilst drawing near. Thanks to the crouch, you’re about eye-to-eye, and he watches your expression widen with wonder as you map out the illustrations of light across his nose and cheeks, before sweeping to his forehead, then his neck, and then his bare chest.

“Hey, yourself,” you laugh, finding his eyes again as they glow in the low light. The Pandora skies are littered with stars and balls of unimaginable white light, but even the surrounding forest gathering around the lab to protect it from the harsh dropping winds of the mountains are pulsing with purple light, every single shrub and leaf and plant glowing with life.

Jake stares at you for a moment before producing a gift from behind his leg. You take it from him with a wide and gasping smile.

“No way!”

“Way,” Jake says, watching you handle the flower with so much care that one might assume it would break with your touch. With the way Jake was swinging it around on his way up here, he’s actually shocked that it’s still in one piece, but something in the way you respond to everything Jake does or brings tells him that even if he’d brought a portion of it, you’d be just as pleased.

“Thanks,” you say, turning slightly as you tell him you’re going to put the tsawksyul in the lab for safe-keeping. But Jake reaches his arm out to trap you from leaving, cocking his head to the side with a soft smirk when you round back on him curiously.

“It’s not gonna die if you leave it out here, it’s a flower,” Jake tells you, jerking his head in another direction. “Wanna look around with me?”

You pause, and he can tell you’re genuinely conflicted. Grace said not to leave the vicinity under any circumstances out of respect for the Na’vi and the lab rules. But she also said not to go outside without her, and here you are.

“Grace will be mad if she finds out I’m gone,” you tell him slowly.

“Probably.”

“And Norm.”

Jake feels a rush of something at the mere mention of your brother, and his tail swishes against the rocks behind him. 

Jake leans closer to you. “Well, him I don’t care about.”

Mindful of the plant in your hand, you gently push Jake’s chest back until he rolls on his heels, unable to fight the smile on your own face.

“…Where will we be going? I can’t go far just in case Grace wakes up and comes looking for me.”

Jake tilts his head up to the sky and to the top of the mountain peak that houses the lab. From his own experience scouting up there, Jake knows there’s a small incubation of trees that offers a compelling view of the entire mountain range, as well as offering a minor collection of plants he thinks you’ll die over once you see.

But that just wouldn’t be as evil as what he originally had planned. He then rolls his head towards the small section of trees that border the back of the lab, close to where the bunks are, and he then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll stay close,” Jake promises. 

You hesitate once again and guiltily look at the lab. It’s not like it’s going anywhere…

“Alright,” you sigh, looking back at Jake and watching his smile widen as if he’s just obtained a great victory. There’s no room in your stomach for suspicion to grow — it’s overrun with butterflies when Jake points his head in the direction of the snug tree line and holds out his finger for you. 

You stifle a laugh and reach to hold it, setting the tsawksyul on the ground tucked under the same window he just scared you from and join him on the slow walk to wherever he means to take you.

Being with Jake has always felt easy, but being with Jake’s avatar is practically uncharted territory. It’s a struggle to remember that it is actually the same man you like so badly back in the lab, the same guy who deliberately rams your ankles with his wheelchair just to watch the way you catch yourself as you fall, the same guy who you think uses you as a factor to piss off your brother but in a way that you find strangely attractive. 

Now, he’s an almost ten foot Na’vi leading you in the whimsical dark towards a cluster of trees, and you don’t know how to begin separating the feelings you have for Jake from the feeling of nerves you feel around his alter ego.

You can barely make out Jake’s face all the way above your head, not until he feels your stare and looks down at you beside him. There’s a similarity in his human expressions with his Na’vi ones, which is fortunate considering there was a time where you thought the avatar looked more like Tom than it did Jake. Now that they’re one in the same, and now that Jake is in front of you in his avatar form and the feelings you have for him are still lingering, you’re beginning to accept the likeness between the two of them. 

“What did you do today?” you ask him, referring to his ritualistic training with Neytiri.

Jake hums thoughtfully. “Nothing compared to Norm, I’m sure.”

At that, you laugh. “I’m seriously asking, Jake.”

“Alright… Neytiri has me reading the signals of the forest whenever we go hunting,” he explains sparingly, seeming not in the mood to talk training now that you’ve reached the lay of forest near the back of the lab. He surveys the setting and the space between the lab and the fringe of leaves and bushes and nods, as if satisfied but then pulls you deeper into the thrush of leaves.

“She says everything’s connected,” he continues. “She also says I’m a terrible shooter.”

“You’re missing your shots?” you tease. Jake turns back to you with a grin that you honestly walked into when you asked.

“Not all of ‘em.”

After the short walk, Jake is finally satisfied with the burrow of bushes and rocks that outline the small selection of forest behind the lab, and he looks up to once again gauge the distance and is pleased when the lab doesn’t look too far away. Jake hears you rustle and sit on one of the low rocks with your knees to your chest, and then drops to his usual squat in front of you, arms rested on his knees, gently fiddling with his fingers.

“How’re your cells?” he asks, but you’re so busy gazing at the forest around you and the stars above your heads that he fears you’re not even listening. Jake instead settles for watching you.

He knows he’s in over in his head when even his avatar likes you. Jake’s had nowhere near as much experience navigating his way around how to use this body than the other drivers, let alone time to understand the signals his body sends him or the feelings different things have to him, but he can tell the difference between being you friendly and not, even when he’s not totally familiar with how it all works. And on top of that, there are so many random variables to being Na’vi to get his head around that he never even thought of until Neytiri or Grace filled him in on what the hell was going on with his body at certain times of the month.

He’s stupid sometimes, true, but not totally naive. Jake recognises the tug in his chest as he looks at you — he feels the same thing when he’s in his human body. He’s no expert on Na’vi, never claimed to be, but he feels there must be something instinctive in the way he feels for you and the way his avatar senses it. And with Norm’s fresh-faced hatred in full flush whenever Jake makes that fact known, he’s not at all surprised that those feelings have suddenly become so full frontal now that he’s had enough of Norm’s bullshit.

“It’s amazing out here,” you say, to Jake but also to the wind as you completely crane your head up to look through the cracks in the branches and leaves. “Don’t you ever wish Earth had looked like this?”

“I haven’t really thought about Earth since I left,” he confesses, shuffling closer to you while you’re occupied with mapping out the stars in the sky.

“Not once?” You look down at him. If you’re taken aback by the sudden closeness between you, you hide it well. 

Jake shrugs. “Nothing I need is there.”

Fair enough. You stare at him for a moment and think about that before agreeing. 

“Me too.”

The branches above your heads sway in a gentle breeze and Jake watches you hug your cardigan around yourself before asking, “So, why’re we here? Did you wanna show me something?”

“What, the stars not enough for you?” Jake looks up to the sky.

You laugh quietly. “I’ll never get enough of them, actually. Beats the lab ceiling by a long shot. Looking at the stars through the window’s not the same… I wish I didn’t have to use this mask—” You throw him a playfully exasperated look, “—I wish I had an avatar.”

“Why don’t you?” Jake’s never asked, never thought to ask. But you’re the only scientist in his close collective of scientist ‘friends’ who doesn’t actually drive an avatar, and is instead limited to just studying everyone else's.

“It was never really my thing,” you explain, settling comfortably atop the rock and throwing the glances to the sky away to focus on him. Like the lab, they’re not going anywhere, and the ones tattooing Jake’s skin are far more interesting. “Okay, that’s a lie. I think the avatars are fascinating, just like the Na’vi, but sometimes you take what you’re given when you’re given it. Norm has always had to be better than I am, always one step ahead. Plus, our inheritance only stretched as far as to cover the contract costs of one avatar driver.” You laugh, “And Norm’s older.”

“Damn, so we just got stuck with Norm,” Jake comments, only to make you laugh again, which thankfully works. “I’d have a better time out here if it were you and not him.”

“He’s actually very insecure about that,” you tell him, watching his amusement grow without knowing the exact reasons for why. “He always goes on about how your avatar is much more built. I guess Tom was just more athletic and the avatar reflects it, I don’t think Norm’s used so much as an elliptical since high school… Anyway, he’s very vocal on how unfair the avatar program is in that regard.”

“You agree with him?”

Jake’s fingers ghost across your ankle.

“One: he’s my brother, and I’m not going to answer that question honestly. And two: let’s not forget who the avatar is modelled off. Tom was very handsome.”

“Growing up, I was always the pretty twin.”

You hum. “I couldn’t tell.”

Jake’s never ever considered the fact of you knowing his brother well before he died. He’s never had to think about it before, not until now, but he pushes the thought away and falls back into the thoughts of what he came here to do in the first place.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

He watches your grin widen. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Jake creeps forward slightly, and this time you notice, moving your toes back further towards your bum on the rock while Jake continues his close creeping. 

“I think you’re a very pretty woman,” Jake murmurs. “Beautiful, even.”

“Norm’s not here to get mad at you for saying that,” you remind him.

“‘m not saying it for Norm to hear.”

You feel Jake’s hand sliding to wrap around your ankle and you shudder when he smooths his way up to your calf. You’ve never interacted with any Na’vi like this before, never felt their skin pushing against your own. With a glance down at his hand, you frown and work your way back up to his face, his eyes lit up in the dark.

“It’s not fair that you’re using your avatar against me right now,” you mutter, making him laugh through his nose and bring his body closer to the round edge of the rock. He considers it progress when you remain rooted in place once his hands run up the length of your legs to your waist.

You watch his nostrils flare slightly as he observes you, which only makes you feel more nervous and trapped here.

“All I’m doing is talking,” says Jake.

You scoff at him. “Does all your talking involve hands on the waist, Sully?”

He shrugs. “Only with really pretty people.”

Jake’s ears prick when you sigh and look back up at the stars. He doesn’t move his hands, but he senses your body tensing beneath his touch, smells the change in your body as he speaks. He’d love that part of being Na’vi a lot more if he knew what those changes meant exactly, and he can’t figure it out even as he stares at you intently.

His thumbs smooth from left to right, feeling the nub of your ribcage with every stroke over your tank top and tries to level his face into one of absolute neutrality when you look back down at him. 

“What are you doing, Jake?”

Not what he was expecting you to say, if he’s being honest.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You’re being weird,” you reply, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. It has the opposite effect, and you watch him struggle not to smile. His hairline raises when his brows do, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes when you figure him out, “Did you actually bring me out here just to flirt with me?”

He does nothing except look at you, as if the answer is painfully obvious and you’re stupid for not realising it sooner.

You sigh loudly. “Jake, I’m sorry that you didn’t get the memo like everybody else, but you didn’t need to lure me out the lab in your avatar if you wanted to get my attention.”

His thumb continues to move and his eyes drop slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I lured you out here,” Jake replies. You watch his eyes zero back in on yours and you fight your body against the urge to wrap up and hide from him. 

“You can’t be that stupid, I refuse to believe it,” you laugh disbelievingly, which makes him raise his brows questioningly. Even with a layer of plastic obstructing your face from his, Jake can’t get over how pretty you look. “You have to know that I like you even when you’re not a big blue alien.”

Jake’s grin widens, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I know. You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling under your cardigan for his hands and attempting to wrestle them away, but he doesn’t budge. You laugh again, as if the whole thing is genuinely funny for you, “then you can always make your thoughts about that known when I see you in the lab. In person.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t in there if I had the chance,” Jake tells you, moving his hands but only to sandwich them between your tank and your skin. The feeling of his palms flat against your stomach makes you jump slightly and reach for his wrist. 

“Please. I see you every single day.”

“Yeah, and your brother, and Grace, and Trudy,” Jake points out. “I can’t get a second alone with you. What would you have me do, make a move with your brother breathing down my neck about it?”

“You could just be upfront. Save me from looking like an idiot.”

“Come on, baby, let’s be real.”

The smile he has on his face is unmoving, and you search every corner of it to find signs of his sincerity falling and find nothing. But something feels wrong.

You’ve spent close to two months in the long shadow drawn by everything else in Jake’s life, and considering Jake’s newfound role of future Omatikaya warrior, you feel that the time he spends in your company has become less and less. So now that Jake has decided to pick up on whatever signals you were sending him and respond to them, you assume it’s all in the name of good fun to piss off Norm.

Feeling Jake’s hands creeping up your body in the middle of the Hallelujah Mountains and with no older brother here to glare at either of you, you’re rethinking everything you thought you had figured out.

“I don’t get it,” you say finally. 

Jake just laughs quietly. “You thought I just rammed my wheelchair into your feet for fun?”

“You mean to tell me that was your way of showing interest?” you ask unconvincingly.

“…Nah. I liked watching you fall, though,” he grins. Jake picks himself up from his squat and looms over you like a shadow, watching you fall back onto your forearms as you stare up at him. He sets one knee between your legs and leans down slightly, breathing in deeply in a way that has you thinking he’s actually sniffing the air around you. 

“Honey, I’m all kinds of obsessed with you.”

You blink. “You certainly gave nothing away.”

“I bring you shit all the time.”

“I’m a scientist, I didn’t know you did that because you liked me. I thought it was just because I wanted better samples than Norm.”

“I mean, that definitely helped motivate me to find everything.”

“You never even told me you liked me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Okay, well, tell me tomorrow when you’re awake and not all…big,” you frown. 

Jake chuckles. “You don’t like me now, or something?”

“I definitely never said that. I just want to hear human Jake Sully tell me how he feels without using his avatar to try and win me over.” 

Jake’s tail swishes behind him. “You prefer the dummy in the wheelchair?”

“I like your wheelchair,” you tell him quietly, running your hand up his arm as he pins you flat against the boulder with a hand on your stomach. 

“I don’t,” he murmurs. “I like being like this. I like being bigger than you. I like smelling how much you like me.”

All of a sudden, your legs swing shut around him and you look at him in disbelief.

“Freak.”

All he does is smile. 

“Come on, Jake, I actually don’t have time for this,” you say around a groan, trying to move against him but failing miserably. An exasperated smile falls on your face. “Really? What are you even trying to achieve? You’re seducing me with your avatar?”

His ears twitch and he angles his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Why am I getting the impression that all of this has something to do with Norm somehow?” you sigh in reply, but Jake notices the way you fall relaxed underneath him, and he has the feeling you’re in no real hurry to get anywhere else tonight. 

“Well, it might have something to do with it,” Jake confesses, his voice lower than it was before as he draws his nose close to you and takes a deep inhale. The feeling of his braid flicking down from his back and brushing against your thighs makes you shudder, not to mention the feeling of his snout against your collarbones. “Really, I just want to spend some time with my girl while I got the chance to.”

Whatever you want to say or have planned to say dies away when you feel Jake’s lips wander and press against your sternum. 

Sighing, you shift your hands to his arms that have you pinned down and carefully squeeze. “Good luck with that, Sully.”

He runs his tongue flat against your skin and hears you exhale through your nose, a noise of satisfaction muffled by your closed mouth, and all at once, Jake’s decision is final.

He is going to fuck Norm’s sister. 

And he’s going to rub salt on Norm’s wounds by doing it in the way that will piss him off the most.

Jake kisses his way down the length of your body, his hands moving around your figure like a sculptor until his hands find their way to your thighs. Though oversized and covering most of them, Jake’s hands circle around the width of your thighs and he strokes his thumbs across the inside skin of them, all while laughter bubbles in your chest.

All of this is just so absurd. If someone had told you this morning that Jake so much as liked you back, it would have taken some convincing, but if they had gone as far as to suggest he’s be attempting to seduce you in his avatar in a little chunk of forest behind the lab you pretty much live in, you would have laughed at the delusion of the thought. But now, there’s no denying the very tangible view of Jake’s Na’vi hands pressing down on your thighs, his eyes staring up over the slope of your body as you pick your head up to look down at him.

“This is crazy,” you gasp.

Jake’s teeth reveal themselves against the stretch of skin he was just pressing kisses onto, his smile widening as he speaks. “You don’t want to, baby?”

You weigh your options. It’s either leave and go back to the lab and hope that Jake follows through on his apparent feelings for you in the morning… Or you can relax and enjoy.

“Jake…” You pause for a moment. You want to enjoy it, and you feel the pool of desire deepen inside of you and know it’s a sensation Jake can most likely smell. 

He’s still your Jake, still the same guy you dote over when he remembers he has a life outside of being Na’vi. The only difference now is that he’s blue, and mobile, and double your size in every definition of the word. And suspiciously attractive, but you don’t know for certain if you think that because it’s Jake or because it’s actually true as a fact. But you just can’t help but wonder if Jake’s climaxing feud with Norm is the only reason he’s pinning you to a boulder in the forest and kissing your stomach. 

“You’re not just doing this to piss off Norm, are you?” you ask, feeling serious all of a sudden. The only way you know Jake notices is from the way his ears flatten against his head and his eyes grow round with concern. 

In the light, his tail flicks from side to side in the way you recognise most Na’vi do when they’re nervous, and you fight the urge to look away from him when he stays quiet for a second, thinking of what to say in a loud silence.

Of course he’s doing this because he knows it will piss Norm off if and when he finds out. As soon as Norm catches a stinking whiff of Jake on your body when he’s in his own avatar surveying the mountains, there will be nowhere for Jake to run or roll off to and avoid Norm’s volcanic rage. But he knows as well that this is a long time coming — that he’s been chasing circles around your feet for the fun of it, and now the chance has come for him to bring what he’s buried to the surface and shape it into something more.

Jake very carefully thinks of what to say. “Knowing that if I fuck you right now it will piss off your insanely annoying brother makes me want to do it more. But if the only reason I was fucking you was to piss him off, then I’d be doing it in front of him.”

Your brows raise. 

“Okay, that came out wrong,” Jake says quickly. “My point is… I go crazy thinking about you. And everything I think about doing to you can be made possible when I’m, as you said, all big.”

“But… Norm—”

Jake groans, all smiles. “Oh my god, can we please stop bringing up your brother for a sec? It’s a huge turn off.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any sexier, either,” you point out, “but I’m just thinking—”

“Don’t think,” Jake tells you. “This is the one time you don’t have to think about anything at all except for how you’d like me to take care of you.”

Jake returns his face to your stomach as you blink furiously, a flustered feeling creeping up over your body at the bluntness of his words. If you thought he was playing around, you’re officially convinced when his hands tighten around your thighs and he spreads them apart, pinning them down against the boulder he’s made your bed for the night. You inhale a deep breath when Jake’s thumbs dip underneath your shorts, bunched around your inner thighs.

“I suppose it would be like killing two birds with one stone…”

Jake laughs against your skin. “Jesus Christ, Spellman, quit talking so much. Who knew you were such a yapper?”

“Am not,” you protest.

You shudder when he plants another kiss on your abdomen, pings the fabric of your shorts back against your skin with a sharp sting and he grunts with a nod.

“Okay,” Jake agrees, his ears high and tail swishing playfully. “Now take off your cardigan.”

Still watching Jake on your forearms as he hooks his fingers around the waistline of your shorts in an effort to pull them down, you wrangle a sigh of protest and lift your lower body up for him, all whilst reaching for the buttons on the front of your cardigan. 

You breathe heavily as you mumble, “Do you really need to take off all my clothes, Sully?”

“One of us is halfway there, honey, and it’s not you,” replies Jake. His golden eyes watch with intent as he pulls the shorts down the expanse of your legs with your underwear in tow. As you shudder with the breeze fanning between your legs, Jake takes a big inhale and stares.

He barely moves an inch once the shorts and panties are in a bunch around your feet, but you busy yourself by sweeping a look at Jake’s own attire, or striking lack of. Between his legs hangs his tewng, a simple and sparsely intricate item of clothing that leaves little to imagination when it comes to what is growing between his thighs. 

It’s standard attire for the Omatikaya, but you’ve never seen it up close, and never on Jake himself. It hits you then that he’s still in his entire hunting gear, as if he finished up with Neytiri and brought himself here right away.

Jake’s thighs clench as he finally moves, readjusting his footing in his dropped squat; to him, this position has become as natural as breathing, but you stare at his thighs bulging and wonder how he’s not in agony from it alone.

Jake looks up at you after his allocated time spent analysing the spot growing wet between your legs and you gulp, feeling almost nervous. 

“Well, you’re gonna be an Omatikaya soon. One of the consequences is wearing your little g-string everywhere.”

His head leans to the side as his amusement grows. “It’s called a tewng, genius.”

That makes you laugh, and say in a melodic and sweet tone, “I know.”

But Jake bites back with the same sweet tone as you and says, “Then shut up,” and you comply. It’s the least you can do for him when he smooths his big hands back between your legs and up close to your cunt.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, Jake inches his hands further, relishing in a deep breath as he returns to staring at the spot just inches from his fingers. From his perspective, you are hideously tiny; given the obvious lack of research on Na’vi and human sexual relations, Jake isn’t totally sure you’ll be able to withstand what he wants to give you.

Worth a try, though.

Jake’s chest rises and falls as he stares in wonder at your pussy, the scent divinely pronounced, and he runs one of his fingers between your folds and up, collecting the juices on his finger as he rounds your clit in a rather observational manner. 

You bristle, your legs instinctively trying to close — all the good it does, as Jake pushes them back open. His eyes flicker back up to yours, as if assessing his next steps, before he lowers his mouth to your cunt and without doing you the kind service of looking away, stares at you as he spreads his tongue flat between your folds.

His actions earn him a strangled moan of pleasure, and his ears twitch in satisfaction. The feeling of his tongue against you is strangely addicting, rough and soft at the same time, warm and wet and enough for your hips to lift. 

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling your eyes close, half with the pleasure of it all and also sheer embarrassment. 

Like a predator watching its prey, Jake never looks away from your face and the way it twists, your jaw hanging open as he licks your cunt. With the size of his head alone, his tongue virtually covers every corner of your pussy with no difficulty, leaving you with no untouched itch, no ignored stretch of wet skin. 

You can’t even bear to look down at him again, and you toss your gaze up to the stars as they twinkle above, blinking, conspirators to your escapade. Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud, your hips slowly roll up and down as Jake sucks around your clit, his big hands working overtime to keep you from wriggling away entirely off the rock and to the ground.

“Oh, god…”

Between your legs is a flurry of warmth, a tingling feeling rippling down to your toes. After five dry years, it comes as no real shock that even someone’s tongue could be ripping this kind of response from you. 

“You good?” Jake murmurs.

“Mmh. Hot,” you rasp. It doesn’t help that there’s an exo-pack warming your face with every deep breath you take. Jake moves his mouth from your cunt momentarily as if trying to hear you, watching with curious eyes when you bite back another noise which stirs as he slides his finger towards your entrance. 

“This mask is really ruining my vibe right now,” you groan, your voice so throaty and strangled that Jake has to fight a smirk. He fails miserably.

“Take it off and hold your breath,” Jake replies; a laugh rumbles from his chest when you lift your head to scowl at him.

“It would frighten people if they knew how much of a genius you were.”

Jake hums, his eyes glistening as he cocks his head, “I’m incredibly humble.” Then he wastes no more time talking and sinks his finger into you.

He sinks in with plenty of ease, your wetness guiding his finger all the way in to the knuckle and you choke back a strangled sound; one of Jake’s fingers feels like two of your own, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome after your dry spell of five cryo-stolen years. 

Jake grins widely and inches his tongue back between your legs, swiping it over your clit and forcing the moans out from hiding in your throat.

You turn your head to the side, sparing a glance at the distant laboratory. You can only hope you’re not loud enough to startle your sleeping colleagues and brother.

“Eyes down here, Spellman,” Jake mumbles, his voice vibrating across your pussy and pulling your eyes back towards him. Tears spring to your eyes as he looks up at you, working his fingers in and out of you slowly while matching his licks to the tempo.

His tongue is slightly rough and textured, each lick leaving you feeling almost ticklish. A rush of warmth pulls from your cunt up to your neck, and your thighs tremble around his head with a flushed squeeze, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind; he pulls your one leg further apart with his other hand and slips in a second finger, the stretch of your hole making your back arch with a half pained, half pleasured moan.

“Jake!” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, his fangs brushing across you. He has the nerve to laugh all of a sudden, pulling his mouth away after pressing a sloppy kiss to your clit. “Jesus, fuck, Jake—”

“Goddamn, you are a yapper,” Jake comments, and you glare at the almost human look of pure smugness on his face, his chin coated with saliva and juice. 

“Fuck you,” you huff, feeling the absence of his tongue immensely, despite his continuously moving fingers. Jake’s fingers are thicker than they looked from afar — it feels like you’re full already, but you’re not willing to confess that to him. He already looks far too proud with what he’s doing.

You suppose, now that you’re thinking about it, Jake’s had years to become familiar with a pussy; he seems to be back between your legs with a certain hunger for you, the taste of your juices sweeter than he initially expected. 

His fingers are coated in juice, slipping into you with no resistance and curling his fingers up to make your hips lift once more. He almost wants to make a comment to fluster you, to tell you how insanely good it feels for your cunt to be quivering around his fingers, welcoming him up there as if you’d prepared for them beforehand. Jake parts his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, his mouth comfortably attached to you.

His ears twitch when you let out a wobbly cry — actually, he’s not sure if you’re crying for real or not. His eyes follow your hand as it creeps down to the hood of your pussy, just above his nose, and he pulls his mouth away for a split second.

“No, no, go back,” you pant, and like a dog given a command, Jake pulls his soggy fingers out of your cunt and pushes his head back between your thighs, satisfied by your own pleasured sounds when he does.

Jake hooks his arm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the sloping boulder while he uses his other hand to keep your legs wide apart. You forget all about modesty and self-control and open them as wide as you can for him to help, your hand stroking the top of Jake’s hair as he burrows his way back between the wet spot he was devouring. 

You suck in a tight and high-pitched breath when Jake’s tongue shifts from left to right over your clit, the feeling of his tongue strange and almost like a vibration. Your hips lift from the boulder again and shift up and down — Jake’s barely even trying, barely broken a sweat, but when he glances up at you he’s both amused and surprised by how twisted in pleasure you look. All he can see is the underneath of your jaw tilted to the sky, and one of your hands curling up around your tit under your tank top.

Jake guides his arm from trapping your abdomen up to push the bottom of your tank up above your wrist. There’s no way he’ll let you gatekeep the sight of your tits when he’s the one making you touch yourself in the first place. His eyes are wide with excitement when you fist the fabric of your tank and yank it up above your boobs, the curve of them bouncing with the quick movement of your hand. 

Jake groans into you, his tail curling up high. Jake’s tasted a lot of pussy in his life, but he doesn’t know what exactly you’ve done to taste so good to him. He momentarily convinces himself that it feels different because he’s in a whole other body — it must just be because he’s big and strange and he’s been fucking you in his mind for a while now that you somehow feel ten times better than anyone else he’s ever been with. 

The pool of warm juice between your legs leaves you incredibly soft and squishy, like a tìhawnuwll that he has to remind himself he can’t just sink his teeth into.

It could be because you’re Norm’s sister. Could be because you usually appear so big when he’s resorted to sitting down all day, but now you’re helplessly tiny underneath him, trapped by his arms and head. Or it could just be because he’s an idiot who quashes his feelings rather than gives in to them.

He blinks. Your lips are so high off the boulder that Jake has to bring his arm back down to hold you in place. The less you squirm, the more drawn out he can make it, but he’s acutely aware of the tremor in your legs, the impatient rutting against his lips, the painful hardness under his tewng.

“Sweet,” he grumbles. The word leaves you flustered, and the heat brewing like a bomb against his open mouth begins to rise through your body again. You forget to be quiet as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling your toes curl in your boots and you desperately finger at your nipple, rolling and tugging on the hardened nub of flesh as Jake pins you tighter against the boulder. He laves his tongue down your cunt towards your entrance, the warm tip of it pushing to the tightened hole that Jake wants more than anything to squeeze himself inside.

“Mf — Jake, come on,” you whimper.

One of his thin brows raises. “You seduced yet?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your pussy. Jake presses a kiss against it and then moves his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

“I never let a woman go without making her cum,” Jake says, his voice muffled against your leg. He feels you quiver beneath him, and his grin widens. “You wanna at least cum first, right?”

“Please, Jake—”

A startled cry of pain rips from your throat when Jake gently sinks his teeth into your leg — Jake knows his own strength and pulls back before he can draw blood, glancing at the red outline of his teeth imprinted into your leg, a ridged ring of saliva in his wake. Your head is lifted entirely to gape at him, and he looks at you with a coy expression.

“Did you just bite me?”

He smirks. “Accident. Sorry.”

“Yeah right.” Your legs shift slightly around him, but Jake can smell the twisting agony of pleasure leaking out of you — he’s never been more thankful for his Na’vi body and its strange sense of smell than he is now, to be able to pick up on the need you try to hide from him, a scent he actually understands. Normally he can admire your determination, but right now, he’s more concerned with finding out how to break down your walls and unravel you the way he knows you’ve been wanting him to for the last two months.

He smooches the bite one more time, his ears pricking when you whimper out a sort of desperately small sound and say, “Come on, Jake. You got me out here, don’t torture me about it.”

“Me eating your pussy not enough for you?” he asks smugly. He knows it would be more than enough — call him conceited, but he’s sort of an expert on it by now.

You don’t say much, nothing worth noting, at least. Jake’s ears are tall as he lifts his head slightly, but his thumb continues to rub up and down your slit, carefully smoothing over your swollen clit almost sympathetically.

“Please,” you beg in such a small and desperate voice that Jake smiles at the sound. You see his eyes flutter, half-lidded, as he cocks his head to the side until his temple is against your knee. 

“Hm? You just wanna say please and get it over and done with?” Jake mutters. “You can’t take any more of my fingers?”

“Don’t be a prick,” you whimper. “You want it, too.”

You feel that unkind heat simmer over you again, but not for the reason you expect. Jake blinks at you lazily, like an unimpressed cat, and then you watch as his eyes curve into crescent moons, the slint of gold virtually glowing in the Pandoran night. Then, the fucker smiles again, looking so smug that you feel embarrassed somehow, caught under his gaze.

“Yeah, I do,” agrees Jake. “I’ve been wanting you a long time.”

“Then, come on,” you urge. Something excited claws at you, and you feel your heartbeat race when he lifts himself slightly. “Come on, big guy. You got me out here, you win.”

He swells with pride, pleased by what is leaving your mouth in a flustered flurry. 

“You think you can take me all by yourself?” he asks, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he turns his gaze back to the clenching hole between your legs. Jake looks almost thoughtful as he stares at you, as if analysing. “You could only just take two fingers.”

For such an intelligent woman, Jake finds himself amazed when you look anxious about that statement. What, do you really think he’ll just give up and go? Jake doesn’t care if it takes all night to get himself up your snatch, because no matter what, he’ll get himself in there.

He sniggers when your mouth flounders like a little fish, your tank sliding with the angle of your body back down over your tits, but then he tuts and reaches back to pull it up. In fact, he decides it’s better off, and he uses one finger to pull the whole thing up to your chin, and lets you suffer in an anxious string of actions — you tug the tank up over your head, eyes wide, lip pouting. 

“Wanna try?” Jake asks, if not to speed along the increasing agony of his hard cock tenting under his tewng then just to put you out of your misery. “Or should I go back for seconds?”

“Jake…” Your chest rises and falls as you gape at him. He went through all the trouble to get you here, and although you never expected to look at Jake’s avatar and feel a throb between your legs, you can’t even look at him without feeling overcome with the terrible, pressing desire to squeeze whatever weapon he has under his loincloth into your cunt. Jake watches your eyes look down at the darkness between his legs, to the pretty band of string tied around his middle, and then looks back at you with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“Aw, honey. You want me to fuck you?”

It takes an incredible amount of effort not to scowl at him. Jake is lucky he looks so attractive with your arousal around his lips, otherwise you’d be up off the boulder and marching back to the labs for being so unbelievably full of himself. 

But even though he’s double your size and consumed by a cocky smugness from being able bodied and towering over you, you can’t think of enough reasons to warrant your leave. The only things on your mind are how much it’ll hurt to get him inside you, and how good it’ll feel once he is.

“That’s why you brought me here, after all, isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips curved slightly when he bows his body over you, his hands flat against the boulder on either side of your waist. “You’ve been thinking of me, right? Oeyä sayrìp tsamsiyu — you must have thought about this every time you went and found me a flower, right?”

Jake’s smile turns wolfish. “Yap, yap, yap.”

You all but whine underneath him. It is so unbecoming of you to be so desperate for something that you resort to writhing like a brat, but with Jake just straddling over you without doing anything, you feel the eager feeling of want coiling in your lower stomach. Your hole clenches around the air, as if trying to feel for Jake’s fingers again, and you lift your hips up off the boulder as if to entice him.

He barely even looks down at you, which only infuriates you more. 

For a moment, you wonder if the only reason he lured you out here was to satiate a desire of his own; maybe he just wanted to prove that he still had what it took to make a woman beg for him — though he needn’t have tried so hard, considering you’d have writhed and whined for him just as much, if not more, had he just made it known that he knew about and returned your feelings sooner.

But having you touch him in an impossible silence in the shared bunks pales in comparison to now, to having you look so small and soft and inviting; for you to beg for him, to let yourself be ravaged by him in all of his strength. Why would he prefer to have you while he feels useless when he can make the most of the strong, brawny and big body his brother passed down to him?

Jake breathes deeply through his nose and chews on the inner skin under his lips. You watch in the dark as his tail coils, his ears flat, until he lowers his body down like he’s doing a press up and pushes his nose against your sternum. 

“You smell so pretty, baby girl,” Jake mutters, pressing a kiss against the skin sloping between your tits. Biting your lip does little to suppress the moan that spills out when Jake cups one of his hands around your breast, and you hold the back of his hand as he gently squeezes. 

The hanging cloth of his tewng brushes past your pussy and you jolt in surprise, just in time for Jake to bring his mouth down over your other boob. The sheer size of Jake dwarfs every feature of yours, but something about your tiny size only excites him more. 

With his lips wrapped around your tit, you try your hardest to muffle another moan at the feeling of his tongue toying around your nipple, desperately trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the absurdly good feeling of Jake’s mouth or the tewng brushing past your pussy every time Jake rocks his hips backwards and forwards.

You clench your hand over his, feeling your legs squirm around him as his sharp teeth scrape against the squishy curve of your breast. Fear should rip through you when you feel his teeth tighten around the top of your tit, but it doesn’t; instead, a rush of warm excitement burns you from the inside out when Jake’s cheeks hollow, sucking a purple blot into your skin.

“Hey—” you say cautiously, but the damage is already done. It’s as if Jake’s determined to make you the same shade as him; the mark he leaves is blooming and bright, and he looks all too proud of himself when he looks up in acknowledgement of your voice. His tail thrashes excitedly. 

“Leaving that so everyone can see what you were doing when they wake up,” Jake explains, licking a strip from the swelling bruise to your neck for good measure. “My dirty scientist.”

That is if you ever make it back to the lab in one piece. 

Feeling the pleasure spreading across your body, you’re half contemplating staying here on this rock forever, hoping that Norm or Grace never come back here looking for samples only to find your corpse. You’re overcome with a conflicting contrast of emotions — you suddenly feel so exposed, so unraveled, half guilty for encouraging Jake to shove his big blue fingers up your crotch, and even guiltier about the fact that you want more from him.

“Enough. Come on,” you huff, and Jake dips his attention back to the rutting of your hips, the glossy shine of your arousal. “While I’m wet.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you dry up before I can get inside you?” Jake asks, as if the idea is beneath you both. “Have some confidence in me, Spellman.”

“I do. Full confidence. So, come on, gimme.”

Jake grins; he leans his weight up on one knee and in the light, you can just about see the protruding point of his tewng and feel your desire pooling. It’s only when Jake undoes the string around his waist and frees what hides beneath that you start to feel your body tense unexpectedly; it is beyond you how Jake has managed to keep the spear he calls his cock hidden for so long, and even more unthinkable as to how it will fit inside of you. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Jake holds the base of it with his hand and assesses the space between your legs again. When he guides the tip to your folds and strokes himself up and down, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your legs turn like jelly.

“You like it?” he asks, ever so sweetly, as if it’s a new gift brought back for you to enjoy. In a way, it is a gift, something for you to sample. Jake’s body seems to vibrate with nothing short of delight at the speechless state his dick has left you in — and he hasn’t even put it in yet.

“Big, right?” he continues to ask, a smirk on his face.

All you can say is, “how do you walk around with that thing?”

He barks out a laugh, his head tilted to the stars as his smirk widens. Jake then pushes the tip against you again with his thumb, choking down his amused sniggers as he drags himself up and down your cunt, and more than anything, he wishes he could see your face better in the moonlight. Luckily, Jake’s spent hours staring at you in his wheelchair to be able to piece together the smudges of your features he can see in the reflection of light hanging over the front of your mask. And what he can’t see, he’ll hear, and what he’s not satisfied with not seeing he’ll seek from you again later.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” Jake thinks out loud, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance and looking up at you once you whimper, “but I know you can take it.”

“I dunno… Looks kind of big—”

“You can fit it in,” he tells you confidently.

But now you’ve seen it, you’re slightly nervous. “What if I can’t—?”

“You were just begging me for it,” Jake says pointedly. “While I’m wet, you said.” Then, he leans forward so that the wide slope of his nose is pushed against the front of your mask. “I don’t care if it takes all night trying. I’ll help you fit it all in, okay?”

You breathe in sharply, feeling your hips grinding up against him. Jake tries to find sympathy for you; he supposes that if he were you and some ten foot Na’vi was trying to burrow his cock between his legs, he’d be apprehensive too. 

“Just…” you rasp, watching him desperately, and he waits kindly, though his tip is on the verge of being swallowed by your cunt. Your legs tremble when he smiles at you, one hand on his cock, the other flat against the boulder. “Just go slow, okay?”

The way he looks at you is as if you’ve just said something stupidly endearing. “Sure thing, Spellman.”

Jake does his best to keep up his presented facade of coolness, but you feel so warm and wet, his arm begins to shake as he supports his weight on the boulder, grunting when he aligns his cockhead with your hole and very slightly pushes in. Even though he only just had his fingers up there, he can feel your pussy resisting, and it’s only the tip. 

Your mouth hangs open with a pained whine, the stretch uncomfortable but in spite of it, you arch your back as if trying to feel more of him inside of you.

“Easy,” he chuckles, very slowly pushing more of himself into your pussy. The noises from your mouth grow louder, and something proud purrs in his chest. His tongue pushes against the inside of his lower lip as he smirks, teeth showing, as he makes an almost amused groan. You’re insanely tight, and unbelievably squishy and wet — and hey, it’s been five years for him, too.

“Yeah,” Jake groans, pushing his hips further and pulling out, each stroke gentle and tentative. He wants more than anything to go rough, to make you mewl and cry and curl up against him, but the tearful look on your face makes him reconsider. Each time he sinks in a little bit deeper, softening the resistance of your walls as they make room for him. 

It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to stop himself from shoving all of it in at once; you’re so tight, the tightest pussy he’s ever felt closing around his cock, and easily the best. Jake closes his eyes for a second, honing in on the squeezing clench around his cock and the unnerving, uncharacteristic silence leaving your gaping mouth. 

“Talk to me, Spellman,” Jake groans, inching deeper inside. His ears perk again when you cry as he sinks in deeper. “Say something.”

“You told me I talked too much,” you manage out, admirably trying your hardest to remain quiet despite the pushing twelve inches of Na’vi cock up your cunt. Jake’s barely even inside of you; more of his dick is out than it is stuffed inside. 

“I love hearing you talk,” replies Jake, even though he had just poked fun at your ability to talk someone’s ear off. Had he known it would swear you into silence now, he’d have never said anything. What Jake wants now most of all is to hear your voice again, hear your pleasure, your instructions, your pleas. 

Hearing you slip out a high pitched moan when he pushes more of his cock inside of you feels like a reward almost. 

“Could listen to you yap away all damn day,” he murmurs quietly, his eyes finding yours behind the glaze of the exo-pack. “I know you’ve always got something to say, so why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jake’s grin brightens when you manage to suck in more of his length, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Just… Put it in,” you whimper, and his eyes widen excitedly. 

“You said to go slow.”

“I know what I said, but I need more.” Your eyes are so blown open he’d laugh if it didn’t look so goddamn sexy. “Please, Jake.”

“You sure?” he croons. 

“Mm. Please — come on, please—!”

Jake snaps his hips forward so quickly that more than half of dick disappears inside of you, and the primal noise that leaves your mouth takes Jake completely by surprise. 

“Fucking shit, mama,” Jake groans, his voice rasped as he bows his chest over yours, dropping to his forearm on the boulder as he adjusts to the warmth enveloping him. “Holy shit.”

You swallow a deep breath, your hands gripping tightly to Jake’s shoulders which forces his eyes to your face. He can make out the distinct shimmer of tears under your eyes, and he brushes his fingers across the side of your neck, tapping you to bring your eyes open and searching for him in the dark. 

“You with me?” he asks, chuckling slightly. “You good?”

“Oh my god,” you squeal, cunt clenching. “Wait—”

“Breathe,” Jake says quietly, pressing a kiss to the swollen bruise he sucked into your skin earlier. “You can do it, pretty girl.”

“Keep moving, it hurts when you just stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, his hips falling back into a slow rhythm to keep you adjusted to his twitching cock. It’s almost disturbing how easily you’re taking him now he’s forced more of his length inside, how wet and responsive you seem to be as he sinks deeper into you.

At first, Jake goes slow, familiarising himself with every noise you give him, every twitch and shift in your body, every clench around him. You feel the smooth ridges of his cock kissing your insides, the sensation unfamiliar and strange but so fucking good. He snakes one hand under your back when you lift up off the boulder; his large palm is flat against the arch of your spine, his fingers curled around your hip. 

You look like a toy underneath him, something he could easily just hold with one hand and fuck himself up into.

His hips snap again, faster than he intended, and more of his dick disappears inside of you. You could easily take all of him if he took his time getting you to that point, but the warmth wrapping around him like a glove is so sinful that he can’t think of anything less appealing than going slow. He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and squeezes your waist with his hand; one desperate little cry from your mouth later, and Jake forgives himself for having waited so long to get you in this position, to fuck you stupid. 

It’s been so long since Jake’s been able to fuck a woman like this, and for his first time since his accident to be with you, of all people — well, Jake could think of no greater victory, no better reward for all the shit he’s endured so far. 

He stares down at the gap between your legs, watching as his dick vanishes and reappears with every rock of his hips. You’re taking it so well, like a champion. Pride blooms in his chest — he’d expect nothing less from his woman.

Pulling your hips down slightly to meet him as he thrusts up, Jake shoulders the control and moans in a low tone, pushing until he feels your body seize underneath him. Then, he pulls back, falls back in, and gets himself comfortable.

The stretch no longer burns the way it did, but you feel as though you can barely breathe as Jake ruts his hips up. He’s so big in every definition of the word. He doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the deep indent of your fingernails in his shoulder; he seems entirely devoted to gaining momentum, creating his own pace with his ears flat against his bowed head.

“God… Jake,” you moan, feeling the slight point of the boulder against your shoulder blades and his hand squeezing your middle as you finally speak, after what feels like eons of silence to Jake.

He latches his gaze to the rise and fall of your breasts as he fucks you, his breathing heavy. “Oh, you like that?”

Ever so slightly, he hastens his pacing, eliciting a tearful sob from your mouth. “Mmf—”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

His stomach churns when you laugh, albeit with a strangled kind of tone, and clench around his cock again.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So’re you,” he points out, lifting his chest slightly to glance down at your stomach. It should be criminal how turned on he feels by the sight of his own dick outlined in your lower tummy — it should be criminal how insanely good it feels knowing he’s fucking a part of you nobody else has before. You’ve lost all self control as you decide to let yourself be noisy, which Jake is all too pleased to hear.

Peering down at your hips, you marvel at the sight of Jake’s frightening length pushing up against your stomach. It looks just as weird as it feels. Jake hisses and runs a hand across the spot his dick is hitting.

“Feel that?” he asks. He knows you do. It’s a stupidly dumb question, but you whine at it all the same. “I told you it would fit. Look at you, taking it all, no problem.”

“Mhm. Feels good; so, so, so good, Jake…” Your body feels limp and tingly, and you let your head fall back so your gaze is pointed up at the sky. Even as you blink dazed up at them, they have the striking appearance of Jake’s skin, the dark blue wash of sky with littered balls of bright white light. The image of him is printed on your mind, and no matter where you look to avoid his gaze, you find him again.

Jake shifts. Keeping his dick sliding in and out of you with more of an upbeat rhythm than before, he bows his chest back over yours and brings his ears close to your ear.

“A perfect fit for my perfect girl,” he mutters. He becomes so reliant on his one hand on the boulder when he uses the other to hold your leg up around his waist, bringing forth an entirely new burn from the stretch of it. His breath is warm on your ear, making you shudder. “How long you been waiting for me, baby?”

You scoff disbelievingly, trying to think of something to say despite your mind being both full and empty at the same time. All you can think about is the building pressure in your tummy.

“Long,” you offer, snaking a hand up his neck to the back of his head. 

Jake licks his tongue across the arch of skin connecting your neck to your collar. “Thinking of me with your fingers up your cunt at night, huh?” His hand squeezes around your middle when you begin to shift with his thrusts further up the boulder. Even with your loud cries in his ear, Jake can hear the squelching wetness around his cock, the tightening spasms around his length bringing him closer to giving in to the dull ache in his own stomach. “Bet you wheelchair Jake Sully couldn’t make you feel like this. Next time you get off to the thought of him, I want you to think of what we’re doing right now, about who’s got you feeling this way.”

“How…how do you even know about that?” you gasp, half pleasured by his thrusting and half horrified by the revelation that Jake might have been privy to the fact you masturbated with him in mind when everyone went to bed at night.

Actually, he didn’t know. But he sniggers smugly that his teasing jeer turned out to be true. 

Jake presses a kiss to your collar and peppers a line of them up until he is thwarted by the mask covering your face. Peering down at your face hidden behind it, Jake gives you a sad pout and says, “I wanna go fast.”

“I…” you start, his hips already moving and you feel the heat simmering below again. Anymore from him, and you’ll be finished, cumming all over him. “I don’t think… I’ll — I’m gonna—”

“Then let’s get it done,” he says with as much finality and refine as he can muster before he picks himself back up, finding the energy he had before to pin you down against the boulder. You keep your leg wrapped around his waist as he sets one hand down over your tummy, the other on your shoulder, and then the real fun begins for him.

Jake isn’t ignorant to the twisting ache inside of him — like you, he knows he probably doesn’t have that much longer until he’s completely tuckered out and ready to fill you up. What can he say? It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have the same kind of stamina as he used to. You’re tightening up around him in anticipation; it’s like being gripped in a vice. 

He pulls his hips back and then pistons himself back in with so much speed that you almost fly up off the boulder in surprise. Too fast, he thinks, so he gets accustomed to a regular fast pace and sticks to it loyally. In return, he’s rewarded with a litany of pretty sounds, your hands curling around his arms, desperately trying to hold on. 

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Jake groans, feeling your cunt fluttering around him as he fucks in and out, slipping in and out of your wetness as if he owns it. The hand that’s pressing your shoulder slips to your throat, and while he doesn’t squeeze, you claw your fingers around his and feel his grip tighten ever so slightly. 

“Fuck!” you squeal, clamping your eyes closed suddenly. “Shit—Jake, baby—”

He moans at that, really moans. A ringing rises in volume in his ears as his thrusts grow more rapid, relentlessly smacking his hips up until he slides all of his dick inside of you. 

God, you’re fucking perfect — he can’t name many women, if any at all, who could take a dick this size with as much ease as you are now. But the increasing pressure in your tummy is so overwhelming that you’re not even too aware of the size of what’s getting comfortable inside of you. All you know and understand is that in the next three seconds, you’ll be seeing white.

Jake’s name falls like a mantra from your lips, and he looks at you in surprise to see that you’ve very bravely opened your eyes to stare at him, although the tears lining your waterline and smeared down your cheeks make your stare look ten times more attractive to him. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked — his hips stagger slightly and he growls, the noise earning him another whiney moan from the undone woman beneath him, the woman he’s committed to filling with his cum and making his.

“I—!” You say nothing — you don’t even have to. Jake feels your cunt strangling his length like a goddamn fist, and by the buffering look of pure ecstasy on your face, he’s fairly certain all of those things mean you’re about to cum.

“Yeah, mama, cum for me,” Jake coaxes. “Lemme feel you.”

The warmth around him clenches, and all of a sudden, your body seizes with a jolt, your back arched so high off the boulder that it leaves him hitting entirely new angles inside of you, pushing your orgasm to a new level. 

For you, it feels like you’ve been blown up. Your entire body is consumed by a blazing heat, your legs going immediately limp as you cum around him. Jake’s eyes instantly shift to your quivering hips, to your cunt still swallowing him up, the white dribbles of cum leaking down the length of his cock. He watches the small cluster of glowing freckles decorating his dick disappear behind a rolling drop of your cum and his jaw goes slack.

“My girl,” he crows, his head bowing as he eagerly fucks into you a few more times, muttering the same thing as he does: “Oh, my girl, my pretty girl—”

The hand around your throat rips itself away only to squeeze into your hips, as though Jake intends to leave fingerprints there once he’s done. He grips you tightly and with a monumental and low, throaty moan, he snaps his hips one final time and feels a tug in his tummy.

You probably feel him cum before he does. Jake seems caught up in his thrusts while you register the unmissable burst of warmth inside of you, ropes of cum spilling out as if his sole intention were to breed you, stuff you full of his seed. 

In actual fact, Jake just wanted to fuck you silly, fill you with boat loads of cum, and bask in the evil satisfaction of watching Norm smell Jake all over you, claiming you as his. 

“Mm—fuck, Jake!” you rasp, squeezing your little hands around his wrists. The feeling is enough to bring him up to the surface he was drowning under, the ringing in his ears dulling as he catches his breath and opens his eyes, staring down at the embarrassingly wet mixture of cum and juice between your legs. 

He stays inside of you for a moment, his dick still hard and even more pronounced up your cunt than it was before, and it’s as if his eyes are unfocused in absolute awe as he observes the sight of you stretched open, locking him in place greedily. 

It sinks in that you managed to fit all of him in, that he just used his avatar to fuck you in the forest behind the lab. You. Norm’s sister. The object of his desire. The woman of his literal dreams.

Jake lets out a loud and heavy breath, a sigh of relief, and rubs his palms up and down your stomach gently. Despite having had him fucking you just seconds before, you feel a heat flush over your face when he looks up at your face, sweaty and tear-stained under the exo-pack, and he grins wolfishly.

“You’re incredible,” he laughs, which makes the act of looking at him feel ten times more rewarding. Your body warms with the praise: all you’ve wanted was for Jake to like you back, and now, to be full of his cum and knowing he thinks you’re incredible… You laugh with him. 

A few disbelieving laughs later, and Jake finally moves his hands under your thighs and slowly pulls himself out of you. The bump of each ridge along his length knocks past you, and Jake stifles a howl of laughter at the whiney, high-pitched moan you make as his cock pulls out of you with a slick, wet pop. He cranes his head slightly to watch his cum pool out of you and you pick yourself up on your forearms, looking for his dick between his legs to have a final peek, a good look at him covered in your cum and his…

Your eyes widen. “Your cum glows.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Scientist of Pandora didn’t know Na’vi cum glowed?”

“I haven’t exactly had a selection of Na’vi men or women to tell me that it did!” you reason, your eyes still marvelling curiously at the shiny soft blue stain over the hanging fruit between his legs. 

He hums, poking a finger against your folds and smirking when you flinch. “Hm. Put that in your research notes. Wanna take samples?”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, keeping your legs wide as you struggle to sit upright. The discomfort between your legs is suddenly making itself known, and already the cum around your pussy and thighs is drying, sticky and thick. “Jesus, Sully. Look at me.”

“I know,” grins Jake, his eyes soaking up the image of you. “You’re fucking sexy.”

You roll your eyes with a twisting smile. While Jake seems incredibly fascinated with the marks he has either left accidentally or on purpose over your body, you groan and roll your shoulders. Frankly, you wish Jake had just thrown you down on the grass and fucked you there — in hindsight, the boulder had been a bad idea and you know it will come to haunt you in the morning.

Lazily, and yet with a rush of shame and exhilaration, you glance back at the lab, sitting in the curve of moonlight and caged by bioluminescent flowers and shrubs, each glowing vibrant spectrums of cyan and purple and lime. 

“You’re the luckiest woman alive if nobody heard you yapping,” Jake says playfully, rising upright to stretch the agonised muscles of his legs. “You’re so noisy, honey.”

“I apologise for not thinking too much about the volume of my voice,” you drawl sarcastically, your eyes still glued to the glazed thick glass windows looking into the back of the lab. Anxiously, you glance at him, “Was I that loud?”

He gives you a tight, sympathetic smile. You frown.

“You weren’t quiet yourself, you know,” you grumble, feeling the pinch in your back ease slightly.

“Yep.” And he seems smug about that fact, for reasons beyond you, although you wager a guess as to why he seems proud all of a sudden.

As you shuffle awkwardly off the boulder, you wince as you lean for your shorts and panties, dropping a little look at the sliding dollop of cum slipping out of you. 

“You gotta keep it in there,” Jake says. 

“Jake, as soon as I stand up and walk around, it’s all gonna come pouring out anyway.”

His lip curls with disappointment as he watches his cum drip out of you onto the edge of the boulder, splatting on the wisps of grass around your ankles. It’s a good thing he’s full of copious reserves of cum to give back to you another time.

“Can’t wait for Norm to get a whiff of me,” Jake tells you, and you fight the urge to sigh and roll your eyes, because of course — of course that had been a motive for the gallon of glowing blue sperm Jake just squoze into you. “The look on his face when he figures out I’ve been breedin’ his little sister—”

“I have never been more thankful of the fact that Na’vi and humans can’t reproduce together. Hand on my heart, I mean that.”

You slide your shorts and panties back up your legs and reach for your thrown tank top. The inconspicuous smudges of green from the boulder across the back of it fill you with a puny drop of dread — you’ll just pray really hard to both God and Eywa that nobody pays it any mind. 

That and the bulbous bruise on your tit, the bite on your leg, the finger indents on your hips.

“I was doing that thing you were doing. Killing two birds with one stone,” Jake says as he searches the ground for his tewng. “Fucking you ‘cause I wanted to and fucking you because I know wanting you is gonna piss off your annoying big brother.”

You had said that, hadn’t you? And even though the entire scheme of Jake wanting to scorn your brother so badly that he has to use you as a human fuck-toy seems ludicrous, you can’t deny the very minuscule jolt of thrill it gives you. It would be fun to piss Norm off a little bit. He has been a total arse lately.

“Norm’s all you think about,” you tease. “You sure you don’t like him instead?”

“Shut up.”

Jake hands you your cardigan with an amused smile, his tail whipping to and fro happily. 

“Your coat, ma’am.”

“Love how you only have one thing to slip back into,” you point out as you take the cardigan from him, and he reaches for the tewng and chuckles. “You could’ve just lifted it up.”

“Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t,” he replies.

There’s an uncharacteristic silence between you both as you climb back into your clothes, and while Jake fiddles with his tewng with his tongue between his lips, you look back at the lab and sigh. 

Somewhere in that lab is the man you’ve been thinking of for two months — Jake in his human form, lying in a link unit as he takes control through another body. You wonder what he might think when he wakes up: will he come searching for you in the dark? Come kiss you, tell you how he feels?

Jake creeps up to you with an alarming light foot, and the feeling of his hand on top of your head makes you look up suddenly. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. 

“You,” you sigh, looking back at the lab. “Are you going to follow through with tonight when you’re back as yourself, or is this an avatar Jake exclusive?”

“Come on. You still want that loser in there?” Jake feels his heart tug — he doesn’t know if to feel offended that you’re still thinking of someone else, or flattered because that someone else is technically him, the real him, the version of him that Jake hates the most.

“You’re so mean to him,” you grumble. Then pause, and add, “To you. That’s literally still you in there. If anything, doesn’t that make me look a little bit obsessed?” Jake gently pushes your head as you fall into a slow walk in the direction of the remote lab. “Wow. Actually, I just realised that’s true.”

“Finding out that you liked me was the only reason I started spending more than five minutes at a time in the lab,” Jake tells you. 

“Who told you?”

You both accept a short silence as you stride past the wall that most of the bunks are built against, and you feel an anxious knot forming in your stomach when the clearing at the front of the lab expands into view. 

“I meant it when I said you were horrible at hiding your crush on me,” Jake reminds you. 

Right. 

The tsawksyul Jake found you is thankfully still where you left it, and you slip out of Jake’s touch to fetch it from under the window, but when you turn to him, his eyes are pulled back across the miles of suspended mountains.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you call.

His top lip curls into a half pout as he says, “Not now. But tomorrow I’ve got to do some hunting. If I make a clean kill, I start my iknimaya.”

“Impressive,” you comment, twirling the tsawksyul between your fingers. “You… Will you be gone long?”

Jake hesitates for a moment. Is he reading into it, or are you looking a little bit more crestfallen now you know he’ll be gone for a little while longer?

“Why, you wanna go again?” he asks with a laugh.

“Respectfully, I think my vagina is broken and I need to lie down,” you quip, making him laugh even more. “I was just…curious. If you’re gone too long, I’ll be asleep before you get back.”

Jake creeps towards you and drops to a painful crouch. He’s definitely going to feel the cry and protest in his legs in the morning from being haunched for so long. Still, he frames your face with his hands and takes a long look at your face.

“I’ll roll past your bed extra quietly,” he promises. 

You snort and push yourself away from him. “Safe travels, big guy. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Peering up at him, you breathe in the sight of him one last time as he nods once and rises to stand. The long shadow drawn by his lithe figure falls over you.

“Affirmative,” he states. You look up at him for a second and smile. Did it take having his cock in your stomach for you to realise how pretty he is like this, or have you known all along?

“Go,” you tell him, nodding towards the edge of the cliff before turning to the door. Over your shoulder, Jake scoffs a laugh and turns on his heels, his eyes scanning the mountain range as he approaches the edge. 

The bravery you had before died long ago and you quickly twist the air-lock to the door and force it open, your heart in your throat. You don’t look back at him, even when he looks back at you with an endearing smile on his face.

The lab is deathly silent when you slide back inside. You were half expecting someone to stir at the sound of the door sealing shut, but if anyone’s awake, they make no effort to show it. Tip-toeing to the small bathroom, you very hurriedly go about your business and wipe away the eternal flood of cum from between your legs. With the amount Jake just put inside you, you’re fairly confident that even a human with an average sense of smell could sniff him all over you.

The long stalk back to your bunk is made silently and carefully. Norm is fast asleep on the top bunk he unhappily shares with Jake, the aforementioned’s bunk empty and cold, the link unit whirring quietly. Just the sight and sound of it makes you unnaturally nervous, and you turn to speed towards your bottom bunk and peer at Trudy. She’s out like a light. 

The thin blanket is pulled to your chin once you settle in the sheets, and you refuse to accept that it’s cowardice you feel when the sound of the link unit slowly begins to fade and Jake hauls himself out with a pained groan. You remain very still as he fumbles for his chair, though you fight the urge to get up, help him and while you’re at it, kiss him until he can’t breathe.

You hope your acting has improved since your terrible attempts of hiding your crush and try to make it look as though you’re asleep, but the distinct sound of rolling wheels makes its way towards where you sleep; you steady your breaths so it looks like you’re out of it, and perhaps Jake will fall for it this time. 

Your stomach tightens when the wheels stop next to your bed, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the set of eyes staring at you curled up and facing the wall.

Jake’s hand brushes the back of your head gently, and you’re not sure if that means you’ve been caught, but then you feel Jake’s fingers brush a section of hair away from your neck and nearly sigh at the feeling of his mouth pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. It is so sweet, so fond and gentle, and annoyingly quick. He pulls away and the sound of wheels roll towards his own bunk.

Every sound he makes feels like it’s right in your ear. 

You almost wish you’d rolled over and took his face into your hands. But Jake’s smooch against your nape feels like a stolen secret, something shared between only you two, something special. 

No matter, you think as you wriggle to get comfortable. He’ll be there in the morning. And it’ll be the man you’ve wanted the entire time who wants you back who receives all your stirring desires.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human reader #avatar (2009) #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #avatar the way of water #avatar driver jake sully #human jake sully #norm spellman #jake sully smut #avatar smut #smut #ittojean #jeanbie

[draiys]

cardig☆n

you drew stars around my scars

but now i'm bleeding...

luke castellan x child of athena!fem!reader

genre fluff / angst

warnings spoilers ig, but i kinda went off canon bc i haven't read it in a while (and bc i couldnt bring myself to write it) im sryyy, crying, mentions of being burned (but its not literal), my attempt at angst, kissing, mentions of not being able to breathe (but theres no like choking or anything), open-ended(-ish?) ending

wc 1k

a/n requested here ! i hope u like it :')

my requests are open !

☆☆☆

You used to think you knew everything. 

Sure, it sounds a little conceited, but it’s who you’ve been told you are.

Y/N has a plan. Y/N will know what to do. She always does.

No one ever thought to tell you that it was okay if you weren’t always exactly sure of everything.

And so, you’d risen to it. Always knowing, expecting, deciding. Everything.

But now, as Luke stands in the sand in front of you, rain washing into his curls, you’re not sure you’ve ever known anything.

“They don’t care about us.” He hisses. “Don’t you see that?”

His boot presses forward as he steps closer to you, his calloused hand reaching towards your cheek.

You pause for a moment, as if you’ll let him touch you, and you almost do, but step back quickly after as if his hand is a fire you’ve only just remembered will burn skin instead of a beautiful, twisting, orange arc.

“Y/N,” he whispers, but you’ve stepped back into another place, another time. A memory.

Of the only other time you’ve felt like you don’t know anything, calloused hands that reach for you, and a raspy voice whispering your name.

Luke.

You’re curled into the wall against your bunk, knees pulled up into your chest, tears tracing down your face.

And he’s smiling softly, his hand held out. 

“That is your name, right?”

At your nod, his smile widens.

You decide you like his smile, the way it pushes up his eyes into crescents, and so you take his hand.

He gently tugs you up and out of bed.

“I know it’s hard, but I promise it will be okay.”

You’ve heard that about a thousand times since you’ve arrived at camp, but you think this is the only time you’ve heard it that you’ve believed it even a little.

His fingers rub against your palm, and his hand is warm, and you look into his eyes. They’re warm and glowy and comforting, and you think maybe you’ll manage being in this camp, if he’s here.

Now, his eyes are the coldest you’ve ever seen, and a frown pulls the corners of his mouth down. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you realize you’ve never felt scared of Luke until now.

He shakes his head slightly, and it’s Luke, shaking his head, grinning as Athena’s owl glows above your head. 

“I should’ve known you were too smart for us.”

You scoff, going to push at his shoulder, but he grabs your waist and you fall into his hug. You inhale, his cologne winding around you, and he lowers his head to whisper into your ear.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You pause, arms moving tentatively to hug him back, chin pushing further into his shoulder.

A wave of emotion hits the inside of your gut, pulling your breath tight.

“Luke,” you breathe, and he pulls his head back to look at you. You can’t say anything, but he understands what you mean by his name.

I’ll miss you more. Please don’t leave me. I need you.

“It’s okay,” he promises, and he tucks your hair behind your ear, wiping a tear from your under eye, and you realize you’re crying.

He leans forward, and his gaze drifts to your lips, and yours drift to his, and suddenly they’ve connected, you’re not sure when that happened, but you pull him impossibly closer. You ignore the screams of the campers around you as you realize you’re kissing him. Luke, who took you and put you behind his back on the first day of camp, who’s listened to all your worries and sobs and laughs for a month that seems like years.

And you finally pull away, the need for oxygen coming up in your lungs, squeezing them because you can’t breathe, can’t think, you don’t know anything, who is he?

Luke frowns harshly, angrily, and you almost trip backwards trying to get away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. But you’re not sure if you’re saying it to him or to yourself. You don’t know who he is anymore. Because this surely can’t be him, not Luke who kissed you and held you while you cried, who taught you to use a sword, patiently steadying your grip, who was the only person that told you it was okay if you didn’t have a plan.

“Luke,” you whisper, and he creeps closer, and you forget about the fire, and you let his lips burn into you.

☆☆☆

It’s been a month since Luke left, and you’ve never felt emptier, even before you met him. You’d been holding tightly onto the pieces of your heart, until he’d come and told you he would keep them safe for you. But now he’s left with all of them, and you’re even emptier than you were before. 

You’re a wreck, skipping meals and staying in bed instead of going to trainings.

You stare out the cabin window, at the starry night you and Luke used to sneak out to go lie underneath together.

There’s a knock at the door, and you stay unmoving, glancing at the clock. Whoever’s got a question for an Athena kid at 2am can come back in the morning. But then there’s a sound that makes you freeze. A short knock, and then a louder, longer, one. Like a heartbeat. Bu-bum. Bu-bum. Your special knock, with him.

You’re not sure what compels you to get out of bed, pulling your sheets aside lazily, because it must be the worst idea you’ve had in a while. But you twist open the door, heart thumping like the knock as your breath catches over your throat.

The porch light shines down over the dark figure, face hard to see, but of course you’d recognize him anywhere.

“Luke,” you whisper.

All the coldness that lingered in his eyes is gone now, the familiar warmth taking them over again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, and you wonder if maybe the fire has gone out, and you pull him into a tight hug as he burns you.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan pjo #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #pjo imagines #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fics #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan angst

[heartfullofleeches]

I see alien and conspiracy theorist reader who is also hilariously oblivious/ refuses to believe the fact Alien is an alien. Like they're too OBVIOUS about it and it doesn't line up with their theories about what the ACTUAL aliens walking among us are like. Like, it can't be Alien, they don't have crab claws or a lizard tongue or anything. They don't even have a tail rendered invisible by hologram, but Alien doesn't mind when reader grabs their ass to check.

This is exactly where I was going with that-

Alien wouldn't even be in reader's radar for potential suspects. Their frequent insistence they're just a regular human guy is a little suspicious, but no real alien would walk around wearing a mask like his because it'd just draw unwanted attention to them. Writes off their glowy bones as paint. The fact they're more flexible than rubber is just a genetics thing.

Alien thinks it's nice to have some recognize them as human at first - but eventually they start to think how hot cool it would be to be the extraterrestrial reader scraps to a table in their study and grills for hours about their anatomy and the place they originate from.

-

"Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yea, gimme a sec."

Fiddling with the gate to the laboratory, your assistant turns their back to you as they retrieve a small vial from their pocket. Alien pushes the gum they'd been chewing against the wall of their mouth, gathering the saliva collected from their glands on their tongue and filling the bottle with the blackish substance. They grab a bag of white powder from another pocket and dumps it into the small opening. The concoction bubbles, fumes crawling along the cylinders walls as they face you once more. They push you behind them - sealing your body with theirs as they raise their fist.

Hurling the vial, its glass shatters on impact in an explosion of black sludge and white smoke. The slime eats away at padlock holding the gate closed and enough of the wall for you to poke your head through before Alien finally kicks what remains open. They stand off to the side, bowing as they extend their arm forward.

"After you."

Your eyes linger on the smoke wisping into the air. "What... was that?"

"My spit. Mix it with baking soda it becomes corrosive..... or was it acidic?"

"...Right. Well, let's get this over with before anyone arrives. We're lucky this was all this place really has in terms of security." You ease past Alien who skips behind you as you march towards laboratory's doors. Not wasting what little time you have, you pull off your backpack as you walk - removing the test tube brought with you from its protective sleeve. Alien eyes the teal tinted fluid sloshing around in the container curiously - a strange sense of unease hitting their stomach like a brick.

"So.... if I'm allow to ask questions - what uh... what are we doing here again?"

You hold the vial up for then to see - contents fluorescent in the moon light. "I found this strange substance on a tee shirt I left in my bathroom. It's oddly sweet, but left my mouth with a tingle sensation after I tasted it."

Beads of sweat roll from their neck down their shirt. "You... tasted it?"

Alien thinks for a while. They had broken into your house while you were away. They found your shirt in your bathroom. It smelled just like you. Kinda tasted like you too. They thought they cleaned up everything after they were done. They did not.

"Well I had to make sure it wasn't something I ate. This is clearly a sign. Once I get my hands on the microscopes in this lab I'll finally have concrete proof of aliens!"

Alien snatches the vial from you and throws it into the tree-lining. "On second thought let's just go hunting for aliens like normal people."

"What the hell-"

Alien tightly grips your shoulders. "You can have another taste once we're official, but you are not putting my fluids under any lenses until we are engaged!"

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #alien my oc #yandere drabble #tw yandere

[yongislong]

physical insecurities + dreamies.

genre: nct dreams fav insecurities on other people, fluff, angst if u squint and shake, suggestive? nonidol!dreamies but not specified tbh

note: i dont think there are any cws... i thought this would be a cute idea. none of these are things that i think people should be insecure about but rather things ive personally been insecure about and things that other people have mentioned make them insecure if that makes sense haha, lmk what you think, if i wrote something that sounds weird or could be taken the wrong way please let me know, not proofread

mark... stretch marks. thinks stretch marks are so cool, like actually thinks they're so hot. likes to trace them when you both watch a movie together, its so second nature to him. when you told him you didn't like them he was kinda lost. he's like 'what, dude you look like a painting." likes them especially when they're deep/dark but doesn't care where they are, likes them when you have them in places only you and him can see as well since it makes it more personal. heart eyes for you always and isn't corny about it, he makes you feel so hot about yourself deserved. encourages wearing whatever you want regardless of if it shows the marks because he'll always be there to hype you up. also likes that his name is in the name LOL

renjun... noses/side profiles. ADORES big noses and unique side profiles. tells you its a challenge for him to draw because he HAS to perfect you on paper. can't stop looking at you. traces his fingers on your nose all the time and loves when it's cold out and the tip of it gets all pink and reddish hehe. compares you to paintings all the time, its in his nature. once he meets you, he goes on a mission to try and perfect drawing your side profile even before you guys began dating. even going as far as to sit next to you in lectures just to be able to sneak glances at you LOL. nose pecks and boops all the time

jeno... plus sized people. TO ME i feel like plus size people are the joy of his life. hates when you're an adult and people either infantilize or sexualize you for being plus sized because like damn... it gets on his nerves lol. never thought it was that big of a deal other than the fact that he thinks you're a god among humans. just finds you so gorgeous and you're such a beautifully stark contrast from what he looks like, that its such a good balance in a sense of like everyone wants what they cant have, yknow? just loves feeling how smooth/curvy and soft you are??? he's obsessed with everything about you to be honest. never makes you feel fetishized or weird. #1 defender. takes couple pics by standing behind you and placing his palm on your lower stomach YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKIN ABBTTT

haechan... crooked teeth. OH MY GOD thinks its literally the cutest thing ever. he didn't know you didn't like your smile until he caught on to how much you would cover your face whenever he would make you laugh. he would make it a point one day to tell extra jokes and catch you smiling so he could grip your wrists and pull your hands away from his face. takes this as an opportunity to GUSH about how much he loves the way you look when you smile and how cute your teeth are and how much you remind him of a bunny, or a certain animal hehe. WHEN YOU SMILE INTO KISSES?? he loses his mind. likes to pull up the corners of your lips whenever he's a bit sad because he claims seeing your pearly whites will recharge him haha

jaemin... round faces. GOSH, oh gosh he is obsessed. always pokes your cheeks and runs his thumbs on your cheekbones whenever he holds your face in his hands. likes it when you put on a lot of blush because it excentuates your face shape. LOOVES when you smile and your cheekbones lift up sm and you look so glowy yknow?? cheek pincher and squisher. oh my god i've said this before but he thinks you look so adorable when you wake up all puffy because it makes your cheeks and face 10x more round and soft. likes pulling your cheeks and taking off guard pics with your eyes shut tight, hand reaching for his to make him stop. does that thing where he sucks your cheeks with his mouth LMAOOO. you are his soft angel baby

chenle... acne. it doesn't matter where the acne is, he never minds it or makes you feel bad about it. likes helping you with your skincare and putting cute pimple patches on any marks or blemishes. he has acne too im sure so it's nice to be human, yknow. never understands why its an insecurity to you because he thinks its the least important thing about you. always tells you how having acne never makes you any less pretty. always encourages you to wear tank tops or clothes that may show body acne because he thinks it doesn't matter. and not in a bad way like he would never ever dismiss anything that would upset you, i think he would just try and make it a point that some acne is never gonna change how attractive you are to him. shoulder kisses always

jisung... thick thighs. ON MY SUNG THICK THIGH ADGENDAAA he loves them sm. likes playing with them like silly putty. doesn't matter if you have big thighs but hip dips, wide hips, flat butt, big butt, like he does not care he just loves your lower body in general lol. can get suggestive with it once you get closer in your relationship but also just likes poking and playing with the fat and skin on your upper thighs for funzies. runs his hands on your butt but so genuinely innocently lol. you are his best pillow. likes laying in between them while you do things. head on your stomach with your legs on either side of his head, runs shapes on the outer part of them with his fingers. knows how when he squeezes your legs with rings on, you jump from the cold metal, he thinks its funny lol

#nct fluff #nct blurb #nct reactions #nct soft blurbs #nct soft hours #nct college au #nct icons #nct dream headcanons #nct dream fluff #nct dream reaction #nct dream comfort #nct comfort #mark lee fluff #jeno fluff #jaemin fluff #lee jeno fluff #na jaemin fluff #renjun fluff #huang renjun fluff #chenle fluff #jisung fluff #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream fic #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct fic

[muffinsin]

Hey muffin. A lot of people tend to write the sisters as Cat like. With the purring and tendencies. I know you've mentioned it before. Along those lines how do you think they would react, if at all, to a laser pointer? I saw an image of this somewhere and was wondering what you thought.

Absolutely! HC them as cats is funny

*I need this meme of Alcina throwing the canon table*

(Post mentioned about purring and cat tendencies : here)

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

She sees the red laser dot immediately, and immediately her head turns in its direction

You see her study it, almost. Maybe, to deem if it’s worth her time

Bela is the type to attempt to play it cool, really

Yes, she has this urge to catch it, but doesn’t want to make it obvious

As the laser pointer dot is moved to her bed, she will, slowly and elegantly, move over to sit on it

If it’s moved to a wall, she will get up and stand next to it, but not pay the dot any mind at all

In fact, she will do her best to seem uninterested in the shiny thing

And it does appear to others like she isn’t interested at all, until…

SLAP

Her hand slaps over the dot, with her sharp nails out and digging into the wall

Of course, she dislikes this feeling

She jumps and swarms, higher than you’ve ever seen, and pulls her nails back out, just to immediately tackle and cover the dot again

When you move it, she lifts her hand, confused how her prey got away

She keeps following the dot, and tries to slap her slap over it again, slow, steady movements

Bela has a bit of a fragile ego at times

Allow her to catch the dot and only continue a while after, or she will deem it as

“Stupid, below her, not worth it anyway” and ignore it entirely while she pouts

You might want to be careful, too

Bela- she has her eyes on the dot, yes. However…

She will figure out where it’s coming from

Cassandra

A toy? A toy!

She is already chasing after it the second the sees it

Doesn’t matter what is in the way, either

Chairs? She’ll knock them over trying to catch the stupid little, glowy dot

Tables? She flings herself across them

Curtains are pulled down and walls are scratched

Vases are shattered and decoration flies about the place when Cassandra mindlessly jumps into them

Cassandra already likes glowing things. This is the best, though

Cassandra, despite not as much as her younger sister, can be very energetic at times

And very stubborn

She won’t rest until she has the damn dot

When she clasps her hands over it and it disappears, she tilts her head in confusion

She isn’t quite sure what the laser pointer is or does, but knows she wants that dot

She runs into walls and slips on the floor, but keeps chasing the damn dot

You’ll need to move it fast, and everywhere

Cassandra wants this challenge

She attempts to bite the air to catch it, to no avail

Only once has the laser pointer almost been taken from you

When you played as usual and kept aiming it, and spotted Bela sitting in the corner, reading her book

You aren’t sure why you couldn’t help but aim the enticing red dot right at her forehead

Of course, Cassandra tackled her sister to get the dot

With her sister holding her up by the collar of her dress and Cassandra hanging unusually calmly- merely pouting- the laser pointer was snatched from you

Cassandra claims she’s killed the dot

Daniela

Ah, Daniela. It seems, she has endless energy

Luckily, this is a good way of letting most of it, if not all, out

Daniela immediately chases after the dot

Immediately. Its attack on sight

Like her sister, she doesn’t care what she knocks over or destroys in the process

She’s having her fun, and Alcina could never be angry with her anyway! At least never for long

Daniela can be occupied for hours, merely to chase the little dot

She loves when it’s high in the air and she needs to jump and swarm to get it

Unlike her sisters, she attempts to bite it rather than catch it with her hands, most of the time

When she does so and the dot disappears, as her head covers it, she immediately whines

She doesn’t know, it’s now merely at the back of her head because she’s covering it

When she turns around and crosses her eyes upon finding the dot on the tip of her nose, you aren’t fast enough to react

With her hands slapping against her own nose, you only hear a whine and a long, drawn out “Ouwwwwww!”

You are demanded to kiss it better

After this, the hunt goes on

It keeps going for hours and hours, with Daniela laughing and giggling nearly constantly, bouncing about the room like a little ball trying to catch the laser pointer dot

When you notice her energy slowly drain, you move the laser pointer less drastically

With a bite into the air again, you turn it off. Daniela is sure, she’s caught it, and makes a comment about it tasting like a mouse

At last, she flops down on top of you, snuggling and dozing off, demanding head scratches and plenty of kisses for her job well done

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil village #weird anon

[riacte]

Space Opera AU dashboard simulator 2 (but there's plot if you squint) (probably worse than its predecessor)

🚀 renthepilot

HAPPY BITRHDAY TO ME!! I TURN 7!!! :D :D :D <3 <3 <3 RD

❤️ falsewell

Happy 7th birthday Ren! :)

🚀 renthepilot

Thank u FalsE!!!!!! :DDDDDD >.< RD

🍵 cinnamontea Follow

... Why is my 17yo ET1blr mutual talking to a 7yo on Sunblr. I came here for analysis posts but apparently she's babysitting her cousin or perhaps a strangely intelligent dog??

❤️ falsewell

I mean, I would be worried if a 7yo was piloting the glider I race in 🤨

🍵 cinnamontea Follow

WDYM THAT GUY IS YOUR RACE PARTNER? OMFG I AM SO SORRY

🍀 et1vision Follow

Chat do you remember when we found RK and QoH's Sunblr accounts from when they weren't famous and were just two kids in illegal races. Because it was hysterical. Hands up if you thought falsewell was someone's canon url and not QoH herself.

🪓 handoftheking

That interaction was pretty cute to be honest. Ren's still 7 the last I checked.

🪸 hoes4redking Follow

[deep sigh] littlewood at the scene of the crime as always

#WHYYYYYYY is he chronically online #he needs to be stopped and locked up #i bet he scrolls through the treebark tag every day #he knows Too Much #do you think he brings up sunblr during dinner #and etho and bigb look at him like hes insane

7,207 notes

🔥 yaoihell Follow

save me queen of hearts

🔥 yaoihell Follow

queen of hearts

🔥 yaoihell Follow

queen of hearts save me

🏐 apollos-dodgeball 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀 Follow

Congratulations on the prophecy!

[Beep boop, this is a gimmick blog!]

🔥 yaoihell Follow

what the actual fuck.

🌼 fast-and-bifurious Follow

i think i hauve the plague

47,981 notes

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

hi babes the demons in my head won so new fic!!

i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me, pa-pa paparazzi

pairing: the red king x blue stalker (they/them) (exterra 1 rpf)

summary: why are you as a bounty hunter so intent on hunting ren down? what do you want to do with him? pin him against a wall and kiss him until he's breathless and melting like putty in your hands?

word count: 10.1k

tags: enemies to lovers, angst, hurt no comfort, whump, ust, no actual smut, making out, blood, slight knifeplay, submissive rk, open ending

Keep reading

🏹 queenofheartsfanclub Follow

Listen, I don't do RPF, I can handle Treebark (because I have eyes), but this is crossing a line. Especially after the accusations by RK. I think his evidence is pretty compelling.

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

dead dove do not eat. i am aware this is a fucked up dynamic but it's fictional. it's not like the real blue stalker has a toxic codependent attraction to the guy they're assigned to kill (btw i mained qoh so i completely understand where you're coming from)

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

oh.

🏹 queenofheartsfanclub Follow

hey

so do you wanna kiss before the haters get to you?

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

of course. can we get married

#love can be found on the battlefield in more ways than one #fave post #annoying treebark fans fuck off!!!!!!

1109 notes

🌹 fyeahroseduo Follow

Coming out as a falsedog shipper is harder than coming out as gay

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

TEN YEARS????

Time is not real

🌃 nightpatrols Follow

I had vivid flashbacks. I feel faint. This post caused so much drama omfg. I need a treebark equivalent on my desk by 8am sharp next morning

🪓 handoftheking

Coming out as a Treebark shipper is harder than coming out as bi

🌃 nightpatrols Follow

WHAT THE FUFHUBFBFUOUOFFUCK

#HES IN OUR WALLS #HE STARTED THE SHIP #this is gonna sweep the next unhinged moment poll #??!?1!?!???!?!?! #HATE THIS LUMIAN GLOWY ASS #btw for non et1 mutuals: this man is literally bi #yeah hes really gay for his pilot. yeah we all know #theyre always holding hands and shit #edit: DID HE REBLOG THIS AT 7:30AM #IDK HOW PLANETZONES CONVERSATION WORKS #*conversion #listen i failed school 2 years in a row ok 😭

19,626 notes

🎵 daily-music Follow

Music video of the day is: R8cer Boi by Avril Lavigne!

🎵 daily-music Follow

who the fuck is renn dog

🎵 daily-music Follow

who has little wood

🎵 daily-music Follow

why are y'alls twink racers larping as royals from medieval era planet earth

🎵 daily-music Follow

sorry for calling the queen of hearts a twink. im sorry women

#im so done with yalls bullshit #who are these people #why do they show up in my tags

898 notes

#space opera au #i feel delirious. i think i hauve a stomachache #dashboard simulator #treebark #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #long post #unreality

[starsstuddedsky]

Lingering

reader x seokmin

summary: sunrise at the beach with a crush

genre: fluff this is just self-indulgent fluff

warnings: none!

wc: 1k

a/n: while looking up references of his smile i nearly died

The sun hides just under the horizon, the world holding its breath while waiting for the warmth to return. You study the sky, the twinkling stars that are too far away to survive the sun, going into hiding until the next night. But for now, you can still pick them out, see the ghost of constellations you knew when you were still a child. 

The sand digs between your toes, cold and grainy without the sun to warm them. You like watching the waves roll and crash in the half-light of dawn, the thundering crashes of water breaking on the beach mesmerizing. No matter how many times you sit here, it’s magical. Something about the calming power of extreme violence. 

A voice calls to you, inaudible over the waves, though it still makes you jump. When you turn around, Seokmin is crossing the beach toward you. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” He repeats, close enough this time to be heard over the crashing waves. He stands over you, hands on his hips. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter. 

He shrugs. “I heard someone wandering around at five in the morning, so I was making sure we weren’t being robbed. Then I figured I should make sure no one was sleep-walking into the ocean.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t go getting an inflated ego; I’d do this for anyone.” 

“Really? You’d sneak out at dawn for Seungkwan?” 

Seokmin pauses. “Fine, it is special treatment. You only.” 

It’s silly to get this happy over an answer you forced out of him, but it’s fun to pretend you’re special to him. That’s the worst part about having a crush on your friend. It’s not hunting for feelings when none exist, but knowing exactly how desperate you are. Like how your heart races when he sits next to you, kicking his sandals off and burying his feet in the sand to match you. 

“Oh my god, it’s so cold,” he says, shaking his shoulders to emphasize his point. You shake your head, and pretend like you aren’t hyper-aware of his sweatshirt brushing against yours. He’s quiet with you, a rare quality for Seokmin. You’re used to hearing him joke around with Seungkwan and Mingyu, or do everything he can to annoy Minghao. He’s a friend of a friend that’s turned you into a cliché. God, you can’t even think straight around him. 

“You never answered my question,” he says, staring out across the water. The tiny line where the water ends and the sky begins is starting to grow more definite, the sky above just a shade lighter. “You don’t have to,” he quickly adds, “I know we’re not really that close, well, not yet. I’m not saying that we have to be either, I just mean that—” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “I’m saying I’m here. If you want.” And he smiles. 

A thousand metaphors run through your head, each more cliché than the last, but his smile really is brighter than the sun, warming you from the inside out. You want to tell him… you don’t know what, anything that keeps him smiling at you like that. 

“I like your smile.” You cover your mouth as soon as you say it but Seokmin laughs, smile widening even more. With every heartbeat, his face becomes more clear, the rising sun growing more courageous with each inch. 

“Thank you,” Seokmin says, though he can’t quite look you in the eye. Great, you’ve made it awkward. What can you say to fix this? Taking it back feels even more awkward, and even though it was painful, at least it was true. 

You bury your head in your arms. Maybe he’ll just leave and eventually the tide will rise and wash you away. You could turn into a mermaid, or maybe a jellyfish. You try to remember what you know about jellyfish. They have no brains and no muscles so they just float around the ocean; they have one hole for food to go in and out of; they have tentacles that sting. That could be cool, to be a sting-y jellyfish. Or maybe one of the glowy ones in the deep sea, bioluminescent. 

“You know, I like your smile too,” Seokmin says. You don’t dare lift your head. 

“It’s really cute,” he continues, “like, you always at least smile at my jokes, even when they’re really bad. You never make fun of me with the rest of the guys, and you made a cake for my birthday even though we barely knew each other.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath. All you hear is the crashing of waves on the shore. “What I’m trying to say is I like you. More than a friend.” 

He likes you.

You try to find your brain but you’ve already started to become a jellyfish. There’s nothing in your head except he likes you. 

“Hey,” he taps your shoulder gently. “Can you lift your head?” 

“Nope.” You shake your head, just in case he can’t hear you. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s five in the morning and my hair is a mess and I think it’s been way too long since I brushed my teeth and I’m covered in sand, and I like you so much I’m a jellyfish.” You pull your knees in even tighter, determined to remain in this ball of safety. 

“You’re missing the sunrise,” Seokmin says. 

You peek out, blinking at the horizon. Everything is pink and blue, from the sky to the water. The water farther out is as bright as the sky itself but the waves that crash against the shore are white. It’s the beautiful scene that you snuck out for. 

“Beautiful,” you whisper. 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Seokmin says but when you turn to face him, he isn’t looking at the sunrise. He’s looking at you. 

He’s still smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “That was cheesy, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “It was terrible.” You press your shoulder against his, and you don’t think you’re imagining the warmth seeping from him. “I still like you.” 

“I like you, too,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Even as… a jellyfish?” 

You groan. “I panicked! I’m still panicking, I wasn’t expecting you to just blurt out that you like me!” 

Seokmin just laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. You bury your face again, but this time against his chest, and it’s infinitely better than before. You listen to his heartbeat and you understand the stars in the sky, lingering in a moment that won’t last forever. 

Just one more heartbeat. You watch the sunrise and smile. 

#🌟 stars galaxy #svt reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt #seventeen #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #dk #dk x reader #dokyeom #dokyeom x reader #svt x reader #dk fluff #lee seokmin fluff

[imwetforyourmom]

the dress.

summary: chris and y/n are going to go out with friends, that was until chris saw her in that dress.

warnings: praising, degrading, smut, dom!chris sub!reader, swearing, kissing

okurr, lets get on with this

~

y/n slipped on her red dress, the one that had a thigh slit, with a beautiful shine to it in the light.

she admired how it hugged her curves, defineing her ass perfectly, making her tits look great — overrall. she looked absolutely gorgeous in this dress.

she stared in the mirror a few moments, looking past how beautiful she looked. but instead thinking if this dress was too much for a dinner with a couple friends.

“chris!” she called, needing a second opinion. little did she know what was to come later.

chris peeped his head in, he hummed a “hm?” in response.

he took a second glance at her as he finally processed what his already beautiful girlfriend was wearing, a red dress that perfected her skin, making it glowy. it hugged her waist and hips almost perfectly.

he walked over to her and took a better look. the blush on his cheeks only growing more.

his jaw fell slack as he continued looking and checking out how beautiful y/n looked in this dress.

“should I wear this dress tonight? I feel like its too much.” she groaned, her hands pulling up the sides of her dress under the armpits. then flailing them down to her sides, she blew out air from her bottom lip.

“I- I mean… I’d prefer you without clothing.. but- uh…” he couldnt bring himself out of the trance y/n currently had him in.

“cmon chris.” she leant onto her hip, shifting her weight onto one foot.

this only sent chris into a frenzy, her hip popping out, her head slightly tilted to the side, the red dress complimenting her so so much he just could not get enough.

“do you think the dinner could wait a bit?” he walked closer to her, placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her close to him. he looked down at her, his dick undeniably hard as fuck.

she chuckled as she felt the slight poke of his dick in her thigh. “im sure they can wait, if you need me that bad.” she made sure to say ‘need me’, she didnt know why but it just felt better saying it instead of ‘want me’.

chris leant down quickly and connected their lips, his hands worked fast and made their way to her back, fiddling with the zipper of her dress.

he disconnected their lips and trailed his kissed down her jaw to her neck, “we’ll need to be quick though, chris.” she groaned, arching her back into him as his lips went farther down her skin.

“mm hmm” he hummed against her skin, he kissed her collarbone one last time before pulling the zipper of her dress down and pulling away, letting her strip fully while he pulled his pants and boxers down.

she shimmied the dress down her body, pulling her panties down aswell.

he connected their lips once again and walked her to the bed, stepping carefully over her dress in order not to break nor damage it in any way.

he laid her on her back, he pressed a quick but loving kiss to her hand. then situated himself between her legs.

he ran his fingertips down her ribs, hips and thighs, the feeling sending goosebumps down y/ns spine, making the moment all the more sexual (ig, idk man)

he moved his hand to the base of his cock and pumped himself a few times, he moved his other hand to the bed, next to her side and leaned all his weight onto that hand as he ran his tip gently through y/ns folds, collecting her arousal.

y/n bit her lip, she spread her legs further and pulled them up higher towards her chest. giving him better access for when he actually pushed in.

he looked up at her eyes, “you ready baby?” he muttered, his tip dipping just slightly into her.

she nodded her head, biting her lip harder in anticipation.

he moved his hand away from the bed and put both his hands on her waist, gripping hard, ensuring she’d stay there and not move.

he pushed slowly into her, pushing all his length into her.

he bottomed out, and stilled inside her for a moment, before slowly pulling almost all the way out, then slamming back in. taking y/n by surpise as she let out a scream.

he groaned as he thrusted hard and fast into her, “so fuckin tight” he screwed his eyes shut and moved his hips faster into her.

y/ns fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulder and scratched all the way down to his back, needing some sort of stability from the overwhelming sensation of pleasure she was feeling.

moans, grunts, groans and skin slappjng filled the room, aswell as panting.

“you think you can show your body off to my friends in that dress? let me remind you, you’re mine. fucking mine. not theirs.” he grunted, pushing farther into her, if that were to even be possible.

y/n whined but was quickly interrupted with a moan as he thrusted into her once more, and then again, and again.

“only I get to see your body, only me.” his voice was sternish, but it was a bit falty because of the current activites going on.

he quickly took notice of how fucked out y/n looked, he knew she would have such a hard time with listening and answering him.

“I wanna here you say it baby, whos- whos fuckin- whos slut are you?” he spoke smirking slightly, knowing his advantage over her right now.

y/n glanced at him, then where they met, and looked at the ceiling, she took in a breath before looking chris in the eyes and saying “yours. I- im yours. and you’re mine.”

he bit his lip and only drove harder into her as she finished her sentence, they both moaned out, chris’ sudden pick up in pace surprising y/n.

“tha- thats right sweetheart.” he cooed, he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth, before leaning back and grabbing ahold of her hand, that was currently gripping into chris’ forearm.

he grabbed her hand and interlocked their fingers together, he placed them by her head and held it there as he continued thrusting in and out of her.

a tightening feeling begin to form in y/ns stomach, signaling that she was close.

“chri- chris! im close!” she moaned out, her voice breaking as she spoke, the pleasure she was currently feeling beginning to overtake her body.

“thats right, remember whos name your moaning” he groaned, his thrusts beginning to go sloppy but not letting go of the pace.

“c- cum with me” he groaned, feeling himself get closer to the egde aswell.

it only took another thrust for him to fall off the edge and fill y/n full, she quickly followed after with a string of moans.

he pulled slowly out of her, then moved down the bed and watched his and her cum ooze out of her. a heartfelt smile on his face as he looked at her, despite the current state she was in, she looked absolutely heavenly. he stared as if she herself was a masterpiece, sculpted by the gods.

he got off the bed and grabbed a warm wet wash rag, then returned and wiped himself clean, then her.

he slipped his boxers on, then his pants before y/n looked at him with a taken aback look on her face.

“what’re you doing?” she asked, scanning his body. finding the place that just fucked her full, clothed.

“we still have that dinner with friends.” he chuckled, slipping his shirt on.

y/n groaned, threw her face into the pillows and mumbled out a “im not going. I cant fucking walk.”

1360 words.

tags: @luverboychris @lovesturns @meg-sturniolo

#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #smut #chris

[canarydarity]

(mooooooooooore DL rancher angst. because what else am I good for </3 /j)

No matter how you looked at it, the knock was startlingly out of place; it was late, late enough that a truce-like state should have fallen over the players, late enough that no one would want to risk running into more mobs than they could handle; it was peaceful, they hadn’t accrued more than a single pair of red names so far, and he didn’t think they’d given Ren and Bigb a reason to come after them—at least, not more than anyone else had; it was also them, all season people had been coming and going from the ranch as they pleased, not an ounce of courtesy in sight. If someone really wanted to come in, they woulda just done it. 

So, all in all…a knock?

Tango was already up and halfway across the room by the time his brain had synthesized these as the reasons why. 

Behind him, Jimmy called a wobbly and worried “Tangooo?” 

“Just,” Tango threw a hand backward towards the bed in hopes of staving off Jimmy’s shadow until he figured out what was going on. “Stay there, for a second.” 

Like some cut-off had been reached, the second he was close enough to wrap his hand around the handle all haste had vanished—the feeling of urgency holding a negative association with his proximity to the door. He’d had the nerve to get up, to get himself there, but getting his hand to turn and push was an entirely different thing. 

The door not yet having been opened, the possibility of what was waiting for him on the other side yawned and stretched towards endless. In a way, not knowing but speculating was worse than just opening the damn thing and facing the one singular scenario that was, but that was why he struggled to do it. Schrodinger’s danger—this was stupid; Tango opened the door. 

No one was there. 

He blinked in the face of its emptiness for a moment. Of all the situations he had considered, absolutely zero of them included opening the door to nothing. The one definite thing a knock spoke to was the presence of someone—something. So, what, they risked the middle of the night in peace times to come to the ranch they all loved barging into anyway to ding-dong ditch? That seemed, like, a gazillion times more unlikely.  

Tango moved to shut the door, trying to shake off the adrenaline, the too-familiar feeling of someone else being a step ahead of him and bemused by it. He ducked to turn back to Jimmy, play the brave one, laugh it off in hopes Jimmy would follow, and then, he saw: just a glint in the corner of his eye, something small and shiny on the doorstep. 

A golden apple. 

Tango stared at it the way you’d stare at a car crash you hadn’t the chance to get out of the way of in time, the look a doctor had in their eye when they announced your prognosis was bad, abysmal, terminal. It was the brightest thing for yards—a glowing, unignorable fixed point; the kind of bright that in tree frogs usually indicated poisonous, the kind of glowy cartoonists made chemicals when they wanted you to know falling in would reduce you to bones. And it just sat there. 

“Tango,” behind him, the bed creaked. “What is it?” 

Urgency returned, and, with renewed purpose, Tango moved once more. Fear flooded his senses again—it hadn’t really gotten very far to begin with—but this time it was of a different breed, born from someplace else. He tried to both square himself in the doorway, block the view out, and regain nonchalance, affecting some sort of behavior that would convince Jimmy to just leave things be. “Nothing, don—”

But Jimmy was already behind him, and Tango wasn’t tall enough to obstruct his line of sight. 

“Oh.”

And it sort of felt like Tango had failed. Failed what he didn’t know but by the stone in his stomach he knew that he had. He tracked the feeling all the way down his throat and through his middle, getting hooked and snagging on his organs as it went, pulling them with it until he was completely out of alignment, rearranged all wrong; the moment where you opened a test booklet and realized you didn’t know a single answer. 

He shook his head, an aborted no becoming no more than a breath that passed his lips at just the right angle to whistle or whine. He bent down and picked up the apple, and, no sooner than he stood again, lobbed it down the hill towards the ravine in some effort to rectify even a modicum of his uselessness. The apple thunked hard into the dewy late-night grass, probably rolled somewhere out of the way; he didn’t know, he couldn't see it anymore—he’d have to grab it and dispose of it at some point, but he could do that in the morning. He had other things to attend to. 

Tango shut the door and turned to assess the damage. 

Jimmy’s arms were goosebumped where they were exposed—just his white undershirt left on to sleep in—and his head was tilted down, the top of it visible to Tango more than anything else, his hair not mused enough yet to be called bedhead though it was certainly a start. Tango took a step towards him, crowded him just a little, placed one of his hands on Jimmy’s waist, skin warmth bleeding through the thin cotton, and the other on the junction where his shoulder met his neck. Jimmy stayed looking down. 

Tango couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say. 

After a few seconds, Jimmy sniffled, pulled up one of his hands and ran it across his nose, mushed it into his cheek. 

“Hey,” he ventured softly, in the absence of any other thought. Jimmy only glanced up slightly. “Let's…go back to bed, yeah?”

If it hadn’t already been clear that all chances of sleep had been banished by the panic of a late-night knock, it was by the way they both responded to that statement by sitting on the side of the bed rather than lying back down. A haze had fallen over the room, a trance-like state prompting them to move in the way they thought they should, in the way it seemed they were being directed; their actions pre-determined, someone else's hand on the joystick. Robotically, they maneuvered onto the bed side-by-side, silence still reigning, eye contact (from one party) still vehemently denied.  

And it just…wasn’t fair. The way there was no period of wondering between the discovery and the understanding, the way Tango didn’t see the apple and question why it was there, but rather knew, innately, what was being poked, prodded at. He hadn’t stopped to doubt, he hadn’t been confused, and maybe that’s what was the most upsetting—not the presence of the apple alone, but the way the person who left it was confident its message would be interpreted without fail. The way Tango was complicit by letting it.

It was the fact that he hadn’t opened the door to a trap or an ambush, but to a taunt; the apple not left behind as some sort of distraction, someone waiting to break in the back while they looked out the front, but as something else entirely, something completely unrelated to the game and its progression. There were no hidden motives, no ulterior plans—only the sadistic amusement that came with throwing a rock into a pond just to see the fish scatter. It didn’t put whoever did it ahead, it didn’t force them to fall any more behind. It just was, and it was cruel. 

Jimmy was still silently staring at the opposing wall, the both of them not even bothering to pretend they weren’t dwelling, and the more Tango sat in the discomfort that had fallen over the ranch, the more he thought, the angrier he got. He couldn’t just be here anymore and not do a single fucking thing about it. He leaned nearly entirely off the bed in his reach for his shoes, shoved his feet into them without precision or care about their security, and was up, diverting on his way towards the door to scrunch the fabric of his vest and pull it off the back of the chair it rested on, before turning on his heel and then he was off—

He was stopped with a hand gripping his forearm in its passing by, came to with Jimmy shouting “Tango!” for what he knew likely wasn’t the first time. 

Tango looked. Jimmy hadn’t gotten off the bed, but he’d leaned forward to latch onto Tango and stop his campaign, his eyebrows raised in misery, his lips downturned in upset. He wasn’t looking away, just around; his eyes landing on the wall behind where Tango was standing, on the door that had remained quiet since they’d shut it again, on Tango’s chest, or his hand around Tango’s arm. It was the closest Tango had gotten to eye contact in minutes. 

“What are you gonna walk around in the dark ‘til you find who put that there?”

Yes, if he had to—if that’s what it took. But before he could even begin to open his mouth, Jimmy pled, “Tango…” like he hadn’t really been asking, like he’d been hoping saying it would confirm Tango knew that idea was nonsense, not that Tango had been meaning to try regardless. It begged for common sense, it betrayed its wish to concede. 

Tango let out all the air he’d reserved for his returning argument as a heavy breath, almost a sigh, a huff. Its frustration was clear. He knew he wasn’t going to find them, he knew there was no conclusion to be had, he knew the joke had already hit and the moment had already ended. He knew that. But he also knew that complacency wasn’t the answer, and that Jimmy deserved to be fought for. 

He could’ve gone out anyway, walked around until the sun started coming up and all the mobs turned to ash—hell, he could’ve knocked on goddamn doors, inspired the same kind of fear in everyone else that a late night interruption in a game like this did them, and then demanded answers, no more Mr. nice guy. At least that way, he wouldn’t have had to lay back down, to have the conversation he hadn’t stopped thinking about since. 

But Jimmy said, “Can we just go back to bed? Please?” And knew it was a request that couldn’t be denied, knew the power in this interaction that being the victim afforded him, and knew how to play his cards to get Tango to fold. 

Tango took his shoes off, again, kicked them out of the way of the bed, gestured behind Jimmy with the hand that wasn’t being detained. Jimmy scooted backward on the bed, Tango’s forearm still in hand like the moment he let go Tango would dash immediately out the door, or dematerialize entirely, maybe; or even…run down the hill in search of something shimmering gold, and find himself unable to resist just one sweet bite. Tango followed him, nudged his shoulder until he complied and laid back down, allowing Tango to pull him closer as he did too. 

Jimmy still didn’t look at him. They were nearly eye to eye, only one pillow to share between them both, face to face in the dark; their foreheads leaning against one another, shifting away only to find each other again after any and all movement. 

Tango watched the sentence form on Jimmy's lips, watched his face rearrange throughout the composing of the question, the stringing of the words in a line, packaging them to be delivered. He swallowed as he awaited its transmission. 

“If it weren’t against the rules, would you…?”

And Tango said, “It is against the rules,” before that could get any further. The wrong answer. He knew immediately after he said it that it was, and he’d kick himself for it if he could any feasibly at all without getting Jimmy in the crossfire. He knew better than to give a non-answer, but he hadn’t been responding to the actual question, his first thought only stop—a futile hope he could head off Jimmy’s negative feedback loop by undermining it at its core. Another failure on his part. 

Jimmy closed his eyes, shook his head, “But if it weren’t—”

“No.” 

Tango placed one of his hands on Jimmy’s cheek, tilted his head back up towards his, but Jimmy’s eyes remained trained down. “No,” he repeated—he insisted. He didn’t need the eye contact to know Jimmy didn’t believe him. 

He leaned up and kissed Jimmy on the forehead, slid his hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and held him closer, but neither of them fell asleep for a while.

#this was just that. small moment. i fabricated for the second lim life one shot i wrot eform tangos pov #and its haunted me ever since and i wrote. half of it randomly like 3 weeks ago. and just finihsed it tonight on a whim #so pls enojy but know it was also written in haste aksjdhga it probably could be a bit better #i just want it to be done thoguh tbh so i can feel less unwell about this scene </3 #worm writes #team rancher #team rancher fic #solidaritek #trafficshipping #double life smp #jimmy solidarity #tango tek

[latoyalestrange]

THE FOOL

p .pascal x f!oc

jfc you guys. im so sorry for the delay, truthfully i have been so sucked up in work and my other hobbies that its hard to get to writing, especially at stuff this length. i hope the length of this one kind of makes up for it and also that i can get the next chapter out sooner.

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: Naela is nervous for the season premier. It ends up going swimmingly, but the celebration is ruined during the after party.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Angst, self esteem issues, violence, hurt/comfort, toxic bf, blood, sexual tension, mutual pining, toxic relationship, jealousy, hot bloody face trope, not edited

Taglist: @marvel-sw-lover , @lokislittle , @red-red-rogue, @babukat , @joels-darlin , @weho2kcmo , @violac0la , @poodlebae , @darleneslane , @absssposts

comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

CHAPTER NINE -- GRAND PREMIER

The weeks leading up to the release of the first season had Naela incredibly high-strung. Between the fan accounts posting edits of the little footage they had, and the constant questions from news outlets, she couldn't get Pedro out of her head no matter how hard she tried. Everything was Pedro this, Narcos that. Josh wasn't on social media that often so it wasn't hard to keep it all from him. Knowing it would upset him, she held it in and pretended it wasn't happening.

That was, until the premier. Luckily, Boyd was nice enough to invite Josh to the after party, although he wasn't psyched to be barred from the event. A part of her wished Boyd hadn't been so kind as she was putting the finishing touches on her look in the mirror.

Her signature scarlet color draped over her frame in a silk slip-dress that stopped just above her ankles. A teasing slit trailed up her leg, showing off her favorite feature: her plump thighs. She twirled her hair into a curly up-do, thinking it was a crime to hide the low back of the dress. Normally, she preferred a glowy, sheer makeup look but tonight she would be a flash-photography spectacle. She needed full-coverage, a dramatic eye and the perfect glossy lip to tie it all together.

Looking in the mirror, she could hardly recognize herself, but in a good way that made it impossible to stop smiling. She felt more confidence than the last four weeks combined since leaving Columbia. Seeing the look on Pedro’s face when she opened the door made that feeling skyrocket as well.

His eyes instantly lit up, darting up and down her body as he took in the sight. He too was dressed to the nines, a perfectly tailored black suit jacket covering his broad shoulders, accompanied by matching slacks and a pop of color in the partially undone dress shirt. His stubble shaped his sharp jaw perfectly and his tossled hair somehow looked devilishly handsome yet so casual at the same time.

“How’d you know I was wearing red?” She quizzed him, pointing at the evidence.

“You always wear red to special occasions. The first cast dinner and the last, you wore red dresses,” he quickly answered without another thought. She squinted at him and looked around for cameras jokingly.

He chuckled at her antics, “Hey, I know you,” he reasoned. Upon joining him in the doorway again, she realized one hand was hidden behind his back. He slowly drew it out, revealing a small, light blue bag.

No. No fucking way.

“I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but I knew you liked gold instead of silver, so,” he shrugged casually, his smug expression contradicting his nonchalant tone. It was her turn to pick her jaw up off the floor as she recognized the logo on the bag, Tiffany & Co.

“Pedro, you have to return that,” she shook her head, a protective hand over her heart and the other covering her mouth.

“At least look at it,” he started, holding the bag out further. “You know you want to, c’mon.”

She sighed, glaring at him with a smile on her face before taking the bag and pulling out the matching rectangular box. He instinctively took the bag out of her hands to allow her mobility as she excitedly opened the gift.

Inside was a gold necklace that carried a dainty pendant, which apon further inspection, was a lowercase ‘p’. She looked up at him, a playfully unamused look on her face.

“Gotta make it seem real, right?” His smirk quickly turned to a smile at her inability to be angry with him.

“Right,” she agreed sarcastically before gently lifting the expensive piece of jewelry out of it’s box. Pedro took both in his hands, slipping the container into the bag and unclasping the necklace. He motioned for her to turn around, and she obliged, shivering at the feeling of his hands ghosting over her neck. Once she felt him secure it, her hand darted up to the pendant, feeling it between her fingertips as she turned to face him again. She couldn't fathom being able to just drop that much money on a necklace for someone you're not even dating.

“Thank you.” She admitted sincerely, almost making him melt with her doe-eyed expression. “Next time just get me sunflowers,” she added teasingly.

“Noted,” he played along, chuckling as he let his hand rest on the door frame.

She blinked, struggling to form words for a moment as he loomed over her with a smug look in his eye. "I-- um, just need to put on my shoes."

"Sure," he nodded, holding the door as he followed her into the living room. He noticed the strappy nude heels laid out perfectly next to the couch. She fell onto the plush cushions and one leg over the other, attempting to get the best angle. She tried to fasten the tiny buckle for a few unsuccessful moments before Pedro started toward her.

"You don't have to--" Before she could finish, he had already stooped down on one knee, a flippant expression on his face. He held out one hand, silently urging her to let him help. She rolled her eyes and tried the clasp again, only to find his hand sliding under her knee and gliding all the way down and holding her ankle gently in his grasp.

He furrowed his brow at the puzzle on the side of her shoe for mere seconds before securing it and placing her heel comfortably on the floor. He waved for the second half of the challenge, and this time she gratefully allowed him. Soon, he was straightening his spine and offering his hand once more, this time to pull her to her feet.

"All set?" She glanced around the room, looking for her purse until she spotted it on the kitchen counter. She quickly threw the small, faux leather bag over her shoulder and let Pedro lead her out of her apartment. She locked the door behind her and locked eyes with a grinning Pedro before following him to the elevator.

The only comparable experience to being on the runway that Naela had was when haunted houses used those strobe lights. It was almost disorienting, especially with dozens of people shouting for her attention. Holding tightly onto Pedro's muscular forearm and the encouragements he whispered in her ear were the only things keeping her grounded.

"You look so pretty."

"I'm gonna step forward so they can get some of just you, okay?"

"You're doing a really good job."

"Almost done, hermosa."

Once they reached the end of the photography portion, they separated to talk to a few of the interviewers. Pedro stopped at Vanity Fair, while Naela continued until she saw a younger woman with The New York Times. She honestly reminded Naela of herself, with her curly brown hair and tan skin, and she found comfort in that.

"Naela Rivera, just the girl I wanted to see! Morgan with NYT, so nice to meet you," she blurted out enthusiastically, extending her hand in greetings. Naela enveloped her soft hand in her own and smiled brightly at the woman.

"Nice to meet you too!"

"I won't take up too much of your time, you have so many people to talk to." She paused to laugh with her. "I just have three questions for you, Naela."

She nodded at the woman, giving her consent.

"So, I think what is pressing on everyone's minds is how you got your name! It's so beautiful!" Naela palmed her chest and smiled humbly.

"Aw, thank you-- the name itself has a bunch of different origins, but pretty much everywhere it means 'winner' or 'strong'." The woman nodded along with her, listening intently.

"I think we could all definitely say that you are a winner, Naela. You just landed this huge role, and on top of that you're dating Pedro Pascal! I don't think there's a woman out there that doesn't want to be you or be with you!" Naela laughed on the outside, but she desperately wanted to tell everyone the truth about Hollywood. For the sake of her career, she fronted with a dashing smile.

"Thats very kind of you," she added calmly.

"Now, I won't ask you about Pedro, I'm sure everyone bugs you enough about it," Thank god. "But I do want to know, what does your future look like to you-- do you think you'll stay with TV, maybe move to movies, or possibly delving into the music side of things." Naela scoffed playfully at the thought of her trying to write a song.

"Definitely not music, but I'm open to exploring new roles-- I'm really excited to."

"Yes, I think everyone is excited to see you in more projects too-- with just the small clips we've seen, you've gotten so much positive feedback!" Naela nodded, although she was mostly unaware of the comments left by fans. She tried her best to stay off of the internet these days.

"Well, Naela Rivera, thank you so much for stopping to talk with me, I just have one more question before you go-- I've got to know who you're wearing." Morgan offered her the microphone as Naela frantically searched her mind for the answer.

"Oh, my dress?" She asked, glancing down at the shiny fabric to try and regain her memory. "Ralph Lauren, I think!" She answered not-so-confidently, making the interviewer laugh once more.

"You look gorgeous, Naela. Have a wonderful night!" Just as they were finishing up, she felt a strong hand gently tug her away. She looked up to see Pedro smiling down at her.

"We don't have to do another one if you don't want to," he reasoned, as if he could sense she was ready to go inside. Naela shook her head and smiled bashfully, averting her eyes to the crimson carpet beneath her heals. Pedro reassured her it was okay before leading her through the back entrance of the theater. The inside was essentially a larger, more grand movie theater with security. Only a few people, of with Naela didn't recognize, were scattered in the seats. Pedro knew exactly where to go, leading her to the reserved part of the theater and stopping at their names, which were of course placed next to each other. Their seats were only a few rows back from the front and in the dead center of the isle.

The two sat mostly in silence as the attendees slowly trickled in, all dressed in semi-formal attire with a few sore thumbs here and there. Just before the designated start time, Boyd arrived with Joanne in tow and their respective plus one's. The group stayed standing to greet one another for a few moments before they noticed the sudden shift in the lighting. The spotlights at the edge of the stage lit up the area as the director, Tom, walked out. Everyone took their seats before he started.

"Welcome, everyone! Thank you so much for coming out, the support here and everywhere has just been so overwhelming," he paused for a bundle of applause. "I also want to thank my incredible crew and cast; you guys are what made this possible. Special thanks to Boyd, Pedro, and Naela, our main characters. They worked so, so hard on this, and trust me, it was a lot," he added, half-joking. Another round of applause, this time directed at the trio in the center of the theater. Those close enough congratulated them. Naela couldn't stop blushing between the praise and Pedro's thigh resting against hers.

The rest of the event went swimmingly; luckily the most the audience saw of Naela and Pedro was a steamy make out scene. However, the night was far from over. She was excited for the afterparty, but more so nervous because her boyfriend and Pedro would be in the same room, which was a recipe for chaos at this stage. She was going to do everything she could to keep the peace and make sure everyone had a good night. Except for herself, apparently, because that meant she was glued to Josh's side for most of the night.

Around an hour in, Josh already had a few too many. He was lounging on Boyd's couch as if it were his own, opened beer bottle propped up on his knee as he reclined. Naela's arms were crossed as she sat next to him, sober and bored out of her mind.

"Hey, I have a good idea," he proposed sloppily, slurring his words as he turned to face her. Naela raised her brow, urging him to answer with a fictitious interest. "We should get out of here." He bit his lip and let his eyes fall to the valley of her breasts. She tried to hide her disgust as she gently pushed him away.

"No, that's not a good idea," she answered simply, keeping her tone as gentle as possible. His face twisted to anger as he scoffed and downed the rest of the bottle in one go.

"Fine," he spat as he rose from the couch and walking through the glass doors to join the other half of the party outside. Naela sighed and rolled her eyes. She just hoped he wouldn't be too much of a bother without her to supervise. Free of her restraints, she rose to her feet, heels clicking against the wood as she made her rounds, looking for one familiar face.

When the only place left to look was outside, she felt a gentle tug on her forearm. The corners of her mouth turned up expectantly, but she was left disappointed when she was met with a woman she didn’t know.

“Oh! Hi,” Naela started politely, noticing the bright smiles on the woman and her friend’s face.

“Hi, Naela, right?” She nodded instinctively, but her expression faltered when her eyes darted to the woman’s hand that dug her phone out of her purse.

“Can we get a picture?” Before Naela could respond, the two woman took their positions on either side of her. They posed and before she knew it, the flash was going off and the photo was over.

“Thanks so much! Hey, do you know where Boyd is? We’d love to meet him.” Naela was starting to wonder who let them in.

“Um—“

As if he sensed the trouble, Pedro joined them, placing a comforting hand on Naela’s shoulder.

“Mind if I borrow you for a second? Cool.” Without letting her answer, he lead her in the opposite direction, back to the living room. She joined him on the empty space her and her boyfriend left moments ago.

“Some might consider that rude, Pedro,” she scolded with an unconvincing smile.

“I don’t care,” he shrugged, chuckling a bit at his harsh honesty.

“Thank you,” she added sincerily, squeezing his firm bicep for a bit longer than she should have.

“Sometimes you have to be rude to those people. If you keep letting them overstep your boundaries, they won’t stop.” He took an indulgent sip from the plastic cup in his hand as if what he was saying reminded him of something he’d rather forget.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she prodded as she shifted in her seat to face him more. With her entire body turned toward him, he had her full attention.

“I am,” he responded simply, taking another sip. “It happens to everyone. After my season of Game of Thrones released, a lot of people asked to put their thumbs on my eyes like this.” He demonstrated, turning his wrists so his thumbs were pressing into his eye sockets. She giggled at the pose, but continued to listen.

“At first I let them, I thought it was cool— but then one day, I got really bad pink eye.” He scrunched his nose with disgust as they felt a mutual cringe.

“Aw, no.” She mirrored his expression, sticking her tongue out at the thought of a dirty stranger’s hands on her face.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Probably shouldn’t have been doing that in New York, of all places—“

His sentence was cut short of whatever caught his eye. Naela didn’t notice at first, but Pedro’s smile had entirely dropped. She followed his gaze to see that Josh had suddenly appeared, standing just a few feet away from the couch. He stepped even closer, an unreadable look in his eye. Naela’s heart quickened as her entire body tensed in his presence.

“Hey, babe….what’s going on here?” he asked knowingly. He wasn’t yelling but Naela could tell he was more irate than she’d ever seen him. That coupled with the liquor had her heart racing.

“Nothing, we’re just talking—“

“Just talking? He sure showed up pretty quick when I left.” He took another step forward, his voice growing in volume with every sentence.

Pedro raised a protective hand in front of Naela, “Hey, man, let’s just calm down, okay?”

“Calm down? You need to calm down off my woman!” Although it made no sense, in his drunken state, his loud babbling was starting to attract the attention of the other partygoers.

“Josh, please—“

“Josh, please!” He whined mockingly at her. Pedro’s jaw clenched as his fists tightened at his side. “I don’t want to hear your whore mouth—“

“Okay, you’re done!” Pedro shot to his feet, using his hands to push John away from her. “Get the fuck out before I call the police,” he added in a low, but booming voice. They had the entire room’s attention now, much to Naela’s dislike. She followed the two, staying a safe distance away while begging them to stop.

“Sure, call the police instead. If you were a good enough man for Naela, you’d fight me!”

As if it flipped a switch it Pedro’s brain, Josh’s words suddenly alleviated any desire he had to diffuse the situation. He was no longer playing defense.

“Really? Cause I didn’t have to do any of this! She came to me, John!”

Josh’s face twisted up like Naela had never seen. His nostrils flared, his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed. There was a brief moment of silence before Josh drew back his balled fist and drove it straight through the side of Pedro’s face. Naela shrieked, covering her mouth instinctively. Pedro stumbled back a bit, but regained his balance fairly quickly, touching where he felt the burn of a tiny cut on his cheekbone. Josh stood there, seething, before Boyd and a few of his other male friends finally arrived to remove him. They roughly grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the front door, which wasn’t far away from where everyone gathered in the living room.

“Naela! Naela!” He called out hoarsely. They let go of him once they were in the doorway. He straightened his clothes before waving her over.

“Lets go Naela,” he demanded. She stood stunned for a moment. If she went with Josh, it would surely be hell when they got home. The rest of her contract would be hell, in fact. If she stayed…she would be alone. But maybe being with Josh was becoming scarier than being alone.

“No,” she answered simply. She glanced over at Pedro, a small streak of blood falling down his cheek. Somehow, he looked relieved.

“No?!” He called back, looking just as angry as before.

“How fucking dare—!” The men that still guarded him finally pushed him all the way out, shutting the door behind them before he could finish. A small group of a people clapped for his removal, but Naela hardly noticed as the party slowly resumed. She froze for a moment, entirely shocked that Josh would cause a scene like that. She folded her arms protectively in front of herself, trying to breathe and slow down her heart rate. Putting his injury aside, Pedro stepped toward her, giving her a comforting smile before engulfing her in his strong arms. She finally felt like she could take a full breath.

“I’m sorry," she muttered into his chest, lazily hanging her arms around his waist.

"You don't have to be sorry." He let his chin rest on the top of her head as she relaxed. Not wanting to intrude, Boyd gave Pedro a thumbs up, silently asking if they were okay. Pedro nodded, continuing to hold Naela as long as she wanted him to.

After a few moments of deep breathing, she withdrew from him to take a look at his face. She raised her hand, turning his face and wincing as she did so. She could swear his face had already started to swell.

"Here, I'll clean that up for you. Come on." She gently led him to the guest bathroom he was in just moments before and began rummaging through the cabinets and drawers.

"Should've guessed Boyd wouldn't have a first aid kit," she admitted, chuckling awkwardly and breaking the uncomfortable silence. Pedro huffed, his smile slowly returning.

"Towel and some warm water would do just fine," she reasoned as she took a cloth from the stack next to the sink and damped it in the sink. He leaned onto the counter, anticipating the pain. Once she could see the steam coming from the water, she rang out the excess and put the warm towel on his cheek. It was his turn to wince as it stung his small, but still fresh wound.

"I know, I'm sorry," she whispered, her focus locked on his cheek as she dabbed the cloth. Once the sharpness subsided, he allowed his hand to fall on her waist as she stood so close to him. He knew in his heart that it wouldn't be the right time for a while, but he was at least thankful he was allowed to touch her like this again. Once his face was clean, she folded the towel over the wrack next to the shower to dry. He still let his weight rest against the counter as he smiled contently at her. She mirrored his expression and joined him on the counter.

"Thank you," she added sincerely.

"I'm just happy you didn't leave with him," he admitted, the corners of his mouth slightly falling to give her his signature doe eyes. She shifted her gaze, trying to hide the way that look made her feel. Before she could retort, he gasped lightly, as if something suddenly popped into his head.

"You can't go home tonight, can you?" Seemingly, she hadn't thought about it either, as she looked surprised as well.

"No, you're right. I can't," she echoed, searching her mind for a solution.

"What a shame," he added sarcastically, a knowing smirk returning to his face. "Guess you have to come home with me."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I guess so."

Naela soon realized that Pedro was being incredibly modest about his apartment. It wasn't huge, but it was nothing short of luxury. Modern appliances and interior, scattered with bits of his personality in the decorations. Movie posters and various sports memorabilia lined the walls, along with sizeable DVD and record collection in the shelves on the other end of the room. She didn't look around for too long, though. Before they could settle in, she was already rummaging through his freezer for something to put over his eye. She found a bag of frozen peas pretty quickly, and instantly handed it to him to press over his eye.

"Thank you," he groaned, already feeling some sort of relief from the cold. She sighed, a pained look on her face.

"I'm just so sorry, Pedro--"

"Ah! No more of that." He raised his hand, warning her to stop. "This was not your fault."

She sighed, "It kind of was, though." She quickly started to spiral, listing her regrets over and over. "If I hadn't kissed you--"

"I would've kissed you anyway. I wanted to. You just did it first," he admitted. Naela sighed and let her shoulders drop again. Their eyes lingered on one another for a moment before Naela couldn't suppress her laughter anymore. There they were, having the most honest conversation ever, and yet he had a bag of frozen vegetables over his black eye. He shook his head and joined in. He knew how ridiculous it must've looked.

"You promise we're okay?" She needed to know. She was undoubtedly alone now, and even if she wanted Pedro, they both knew she needed to heal.

"I promise," he reassured her.

reblog if you made it to the end!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro #joel miller fanfiction #pedropascaledit #joel miller #pascalispunk #pascal

[tinylantern]

Going Through The TMNT 2003 Concept Art Like

On its own, I do genuinely like the art style for Back to the Sewers (reminder that I haven't watched it, so I can't judge the actual animation.) That said, I can't get over how cutesy they made the eyes on the turtles (Leo legitimately looks like a cat here.)

When it comes to concept art, I always love seeing designs that never made it into the final show/game; you know, the stuff that the art team/writers would have included if it weren't for time constraints or because they realized it simply wouldn't have worked from a narrative perspective. The "stealth" versions of the turtles are probably my favorite of the unused design concepts. I just love the sleek outfits and the glowy bits (I'm a sucker for glowy bits.)

I do not know what I genuinely find so morbid about the fact that there is a model for the very first part of Donatello's transformation from "Adventures in Turtle Sitting," though admittedly the body horror aspect is somewhat subdued due to his expression. (He only seems mildly concerned by his sudden muscle growth versus his screams of pain in the actual episode.)

I have absolutely nothing to say about these two except that the titles amuse me. "Frosted Donatello" and "Frosted Mikey." (Also, I cannot help but notice most of Michelangelo's model sheets only ever refer to him as "Mikey." His full name is just that hard to spell compared to Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello, huh?)

So as of this post, I still haven't finished Season 5/the Lost Episodes/the Ninja Tribunal Arc. I've got three episodes left to go and admittedly I've been procrastinating just because it's not as good as the first four seasons andIalsodon'twanttofinishthegoodpartoftheshowyet. THAT SAID, as absurd as the turtles all turning into dragons are, I really do love the designs. They're so reflective of the four's personalities. (Poor Michelangelo is the only one without a tail tho.)

I did not know I needed the 2003 TMNT in suits until today but here we are (seriously, HOW ARE THEY ABLE TO MAKE IT WORK?)

#star speaks #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo

[skyistheground]

Found here through the one Inscryption animatic!

Could you tell more about that AU?

sure thing! i don't develop it much right now but i am really glad you took interest in an old project!

the au is essentially P03 took his charicatures. ocs. uberbot personality matricies and built them bodies to help out around the factory. it was very self indulgent. i also made an au of an au relating to the old data with them (which was slightly implied in that animatic but not a lot)

(the art is a bit old forgive me)

this is the only image i have of them together that isn't whiteboard doodles. i will go from left to right

curator/the archivist

as the title implies. manages the archives. has a lot of busywork and responsibility. the archives is a big room where everything is represented by a file. it's a computer library in physical form

all the responsibility makes them seem like the most calm/patient and.. kinda? it's more that they are good at hiding when they are frustrated. already has a pretty big managerial role with the librarians so will check in on everyone else's work

nexus/g0lly

collects things from the internet, works closely with curator. the glowy bits are projections, including the arm (where the crank would be... opposies w/ p03. it doesn't work btw). the wheel is optional and she can extend it back to float but doesn't because that's less fun. i forgot exactly where the scratch came from?

she has the vibe of p03's younger teenage sister (it did this to himself) and is very whimsical. she doesn't really bother him that much, more afraid of upsetting him than anything. more often bothers the other bots with random things she finds

kodak/the photographer

manages the factory's security system. all of the cameras are his eyes he can tab between. he is also part furnace and can run on biofuel. likes to leave the factory from time to time to go on walks. he cannot float like the first two but walks around on tripod legs

prefers to keep to himself most of the time. he does his job and then takes his breaks walking around in the projector woods. wants to go to the real woods some day but that requires either crossing an ocean or everyone seeing you and how you're clearly not supposed to be there

sketch/unfinished

robot project that p03 started but never finished. it did have an intended job but i honestly forgot. mute/blind unless given a face by someone else. i remembered wanting to redesign it but as it exists now, the cables attach to the ceiling and there's only designated spots it can run around. body is pretty frail (compared to the other bots. it's still metal) so the others are careful

acts animalistic and strange until given a face. then mirrors the personality of whoever it can follow around. it slowly learns over time and one day will have its own personality

the au with the old data i mentioned has to do with my oc k. who is the old data that got pissed p03 backed out of uploading it to the internet so took him over to do it themselves. took over during the unfinished boss fight (in this au not like the actual uberbots themselves did the game thing. since p03 wanted to do that himself) but the takeover was known and alerted for. the exact details of this version of the au are lost on me but here is k as p03

and k as k once they lost (because they were still stopped) and became a permanent addition to inscryption world because they couldn't lose the consciousness she gave himself after possessing a sentient character (yay newer art)

#asks #do i even tag.... anything #kverse #i haven't used that in forever #inscryption #why not for sorting purposes #it felt good to talk about them again even if i don't remember everything

[juminies]

to rise with you

mornings and compliments (jumin gets called pretty for the first time)

jumin x MC, 1600 words, fluff

read on AO3

☆

Something about the spring mornings is always pleasant. The sun, as it rises in the east, hits the penthouse in such a way that it feels as though the windows were intricately positioned to allow just enough light to make it perfectly glowy; just enough warmth to make it comfortingly cozy. Given how expensive the place is (she had almost died when Jumin had given her a figure), she could only hope the sun would cooperate at its best. And it does.

Jumin tends to wake up before her. From the first night she stayed with him she had discovered him to be an early riser. It’s not that he enjoys it as such (though he brands it ‘efficient’, and she can’t deny that), rather it’d been a necessity that his body clock grow accustomed to it given his schedule. For someone who so persistently nags about the importance of getting enough sleep she’s come to find that he rarely does so himself; the hour he goes to bed is the only part of his schedule that doesn’t tend to be set in stone. Business hours as C&R’s director are often incredibly demanding and incredibly random, with a few occasions having her practically begging that he stop staying at the office ridiculously late when they both know he’d have to leave early again the following morning. While he had claimed it to be enough, barely three hours of sleep a night for days on end does not result in anything ultimately beneficial. It had pained her to watch the way his energy slowly dwindled, and it was only upon him seeing how worry over his wellbeing was consuming her that Jumin decided perhaps his overworking was, in fact, doing more harm than good.

Consequently, on mornings where he doesn't have work it’s still rare for him to wake after 6:30, let alone 7am. It’s different, though. A relaxed, homely air replaces the busy fuss of a work morning. He’ll trudge slowly through the clouds of sleep overcast in his brain, blink through the sunlight as it pours hastily through the sheer curtains. He’ll stay in bed for a little while longer than he’d typically like to (or probably should), because he can’t help it when he has the time, not now that she’s there with him. Though she would rarely do so on purpose, he is fully aware of (and surprisingly content about) the fact that her presence alone can shatter his schedule with little resistance. The dip from her weight across from him on the mattress, her chest gently rising and falling as she breathes — they have him in a hold. And he tries not to wake her, he really does, but his persistence in a need to be close to the woman for whom he holds so much affection will often push her to the same early morning fate he holds. Seldom will she complain, however, as the pleasure of waking up in her husband’s arms is not something she’d give up so easily. He indulges her in his touch as much as he indulges himself in hers. Besides, it’s not as though being held doesn’t often lull her back to sleep anyway.

Jumin tends to wake up before her. But he doesn’t always. Occasions like today, where she gets to see him sleeping soundly beside her, are almost blissful. Fighting to open her eyes only to see his still closed, his lips gently parted in his dreaming state, breath ghosting against her skin. The sunlight collects in pools around him when it shines like this; rests over his form so beautifully. There’s a peaceful vulnerability that blooms from watching someone sleep, and perhaps she’d feel strange about it if she didn’t know it was a gesture reciprocated.

His eyelashes flutter as he brings a barely awake hand up to shade his eyes from the sunlight. He’s always been a light sleeper, too, perhaps contributing to how he can so easily wake without an alarm. For all she knows her gaze alone could have woken him, but he’d never mind. Enamoured eyes stay quietly fixed on him until he grasps his position in reality.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs after a minute or so. His morning voice makes her giddy, even after months of marriage. It makes her feel like she’s waking up with him for the first time again, over and over. “Morning,” she whispers.

A ray of sunlight shines over his face, the positioning of his hand slightly displacing it. Her eyes follow it down — across his cheek, just grazing his nose, perfectly framing his lips. She leans in and lazily kisses him; feels him smile into it; follows his lips for a few seconds longer when he tries to pull away. She only backs off once he’s smiling too much for it to even be a kiss any more, really.

Then without thinking, she tells him, “You’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” His smile becomes a teasing grin as he speaks, his voice still deep and groggy.

She hums in confirmation as she shifts a hand to his cheek, promptly finding herself drawing small circles with her finger around a tiny mole that she knows lives there. She feels his dark eyes continue to focus on her as hers drift to the movement of her own hand. “Maybe you don’t see it,” she says. And she’s right as usual, he doesn’t. “But I do.”

He laughs warmly and their eyes meet again.

His history meant it took a while for Jumin to accept her compliments with any form of genuineness. He can confidently vouch for some (he knows he’s handsome, good with words, etc.) but for too long hearing praise merely felt like a form of manipulation, a cheap tactic to get through to him, business. And she understood. Of course she did — she was always so understanding. Yet she kept complimenting him, never asking for anything in return, until he believed her wholeheartedly.

Occasionally his mind will still tell him in a haze of self doubt that she can’t possibly see him in the way she describes. Pretty is a descriptor he finds internally categorised along with others she uses: gentle and safe. Words he feels like he does not deserve, through fear of old feelings resurfacing, fear of losing control. They are too delicate to describe the possessiveness he knows stirs deep within him. But he reminds himself that the desire to own her is secure, under lock and key; he doesn’t need to own her for her to stay. She has no ulterior motive. Her compliments are not built to exploit him — she wants nothing but him in his authentic self, every part of it.

So ultimately, he believes her. He always does. He trusts her more than he ever thought he could trust. So in a moment like this, he won’t let his fears intrude. The way she looks up at him with the utmost love in her doe eyes won’t allow it.

“Can one be handsome and pretty?” he asks.

“Well”—she pauses to consider—“you are. Anyone can see that you’re handsome. Gorgeously so. When I look at your features though, when I really take in the details, they’re very pretty.”

“I’m not so sure,” he responds. She huffs quietly, though there’s a hint of a laugh hidden within it. “Sometimes I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Jumin Han.”

She drags her fingers up over his hand, still against his brow to block out the sun. She accidentally repositions a couple of his fingers as she does so, causing him to squint somewhat against the light until his eyes adjust to the brightness. “For example, you have pretty hands. They’re big, but gentle and soft. And… the way they hold me, the way they touch me—” she hears his breath hitch slightly at the way she emphasises it, causing her to interrupt her sentence with a giggle.

“The slope of your nose is pretty. The way your eyes sparkle in the sun is pretty.” Her hand finds its way back to his cheek, then, and gently guides him to tilt his head a little so that she can see the blemish she’d been circling minutes earlier. She taps it lightly. “And this is pretty, too.”

“I was never fond of it.”

“I’m fond of all of you.”

She lays her hand flush against the side of his face and he turns his head to press a kiss against her palm. “Shall I keep going?” she asks.

“I must be the luckiest man alive.”

“You must be,” she agrees, a playful tone in her voice. She shuffles in closer again and hooks a leg over his body so they can lie skin to skin but she can still look at him. “Hmm,” she muses. “You know, Juju? Maybe beautiful suits you better.”

Jumin laughs again, though he knows she means every word. He lets his hand roam beneath the covers to hold the curve of her waist as he tells her, “That one is reserved for you.”

She scrunches her nose at him. “I’ll just have to think it in secret then.”

He instinctively pulls her impossibly closer; kisses her softly as she had done him earlier. A thank you where words feel too much. He’s surprised when she runs her hand into his hair, kindly manouvres herself to allow him more comfortable access to her mouth. When she happily laughs against his lips, he doesn’t think any word nor gesture could thank her enough.

And as it happens, he not-so-reluctantly decides that they can stay in bed a while longer today.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x mc #this one is self indulgent #he is very pretty to me #annfic