#*strange plant noises*

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i need people to start writing scientists as completely batshit. none of us are normal. the “uptight and logical and rational” stereotype is a facade

[sassyhazelowl]

When picking up an escaped quail yesterday, I realized how much larger my g3 and g4 quail are compared to the ogs. This has actually created an unanticipated problem where the ogs are inadvertently getting bullied solely because their offspring are almost twice their size and push them off places. Either need to make them a retirement pen or find them homes that don't mind a lack of eggs. On the flipside, I introduced some 3 week old babies into the colony to get more color variety in there and only 1 gen3 hen took a chance to pull rank (guessing she's low on the totem pole) vs 2 of the og hens. So they're getting bigger but they're also getting better mannered and nicer.

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[tlou-reid]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[milequaritchsslut]

hi i saw that you were looking for miguel o'hara requests!! i was looking up things about spiders recently and i found out that some of them can purr apparently?? so what if reader finds out miguel can purr or something like that once he's content? tysm!!

Your laid on his chest, face nuzzling into him as you smiled and held him closely. He watched you intently, smiling down at you as your bodies touched. He had waited to do this all day long, just having his precious girl in his arms. Brushing his large and rough hands into your hair and kissing the top of your forehead gently.

You were such an angel, so kind and sweet to him. Even though he had a tough and serious exterior, you always found a way to break through it and wrap him in your love.

He was so at peace with you, all his worries seemed so small and so unimportant when you were with him. You two were all the mattered at the moment, just making sure you were happy was all that he needed to worry about.

‘She’s so beautiful’ is what he thought, hands wrapping around your small frame and pulling you closer to his face. He smiled down at you, a strange rumble coming from his chest.

“Miguel what is that noise?” You asked softly, sitting up and looking around. He furrowed his eyebrows at you in confusion, starting to look around himself.

“What noise?” He asked confuzzled at your observation. Slowly you got closer to him, ears flush to his chest. Your eyes widened a bit from the noise boiling in your boyfriends chest, your hands slowly traveled to his neck. The vibrations getting stronger the moment your finger found his pulse point.

“Miguel your purring” laughing softly as you smiled at him. He gave you a confused look again, placing his hand onto his own neck.

“Oh” he said bluntly, cheeks going a slight pink as he looked away from embarrassment. You giggled at his reaction, pulling his face to look at yours once again. You planted a small kiss onto his cheek and cuddled into him again.

“Your so cute” you teased as your hand intertwined with his, he let out a sigh the embarrassment slowly washing away. Feeling content once again he chuckled and shook his head softly.

“I love you”

[jobean12-blog]

Rescue Ride

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,043

Summary: When you get stranded with your broken down car someone unexpected comes to your rescue.

Author's Note: Just because! Honestly, I'd go anywhere with him haha Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

Warnings: It's fluffy and cute and sweet (other than the annoying car trouble haha)

The air grows cooler as night starts to fall. There’s an eerie silence that envelopes the quiet road. Your car, having made strange noises for the past few miles, begins to smoke, and finally gives up and sputters to a stop.

You steer it to the side of the road, your heart racing as the sky continues to deepen into a dark canvas. You scan the area, seeing nothing but the far-off mile markers and the long shadows they cast against the encroaching darkness.

Suddenly, the roar of a motorcycle engine pierces the stillness, growing louder with each passing second. Your stomach flips and your palms start to sweat.

You’re all alone out here and the chances of another car passing by any time soon are slim. You search your vehicle for something to defend yourself with…just in case.

Just over the horizon you can see the bike speeding closer. The rider flies by and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Now what? That may have been the only help you were going to get. If it was help at all.

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts. Since moving here, you had only made a couple of friends and you really didn’t want to ask either of them to come out and rescue you in goodness knows where.

As you continue to contemplate your fate you miss the low rumble of the engine and when you look up to see the motorcycle slowing to a stop a few feet in front of your car you nearly jump out of the seat.

He’s tall, one long leg lifting easily over the seat until both booted feet are planted firmly on the ground.

Your eyes continue to travel upward.

His tight jeans accentuate the shape of his muscular calves and the thickness of his thighs. A worn leather jacket fits snugly across his broad shoulders and his large hands are free of gloves.

As he moves toward you it’s hard to make out more than this large frame, the setting sun highlighting only his silhouette. However, when he reaches your car window and leans down with a smile, you’re struck speechless.

Long and dark strands of hair frame his face and his sparkling blue eyes crinkle at the corners. His sharp jaw is covered with dark stubble with patches of gray peppered throughout and surrounding a pair of very kissable lips.

“You ok doll?” he asks.

When you don’t answer he leans back to give you more space. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

You shake your head and open your mouth, still staring.

He smiles again.

“It’s ok. I’m ok,” you breathe out.

“Is your car, ok?” he asks.

“My car?”

He gently taps your car above the window.

“OH! Um, well no. I think it’s dead.”

Finally pulling his gaze from you he looks at the small puffs of smoke coming from the hood.

“Want me to take a look?”

“Really?” you ask. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he says as he walks around to the front.

You open your door and get out, standing to the side to watch.

He opens the hood and peers inside, blowing smoke away from his face.

After only a few moments of assessment he says, “looks like you’ve got an antifreeze leak coming from one of your hose clamps.”

“Is that what it is?” you muse, trying to sound like you know what’s going on.

“I can fix it enough for you to get to the nearest station.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I can’t have you do that! I’ll just call someone.”

He starts walking to his bike.

“And then you’ll have to pay towing fees. Not necessary doll. Lemme help you out.”

He opens the saddle bag and removes the toolbox. As he does so you notice a small lump in his jacket and when it starts to move you let out a squeak of surprise.

“Oh right,” he chuckles.

He slowly and carefully unzips the leather and reveals a small white ball of fluff.

“This is Alpine,” he explains as the cat uncurls itself against his chest.

Your eyes widen. “Oh my gosh! He’s SO CUTE!”

“Here,” he says. “You can hold him while I check out your car.”

He picks the cat up with one hand and holds him out for you to take. You gently grab him and cuddle him to your chest, cooing softly and scratching his head.

“He’s such a sweetie!”

“I found him about a month ago. Abandoned at a truck stop.”

The shock and disgust are evident in your expression and Bucky agrees with, “I know. Unbelievable right? Thankfully, he loves rides on the bike!”

He gives Alpine a soft pat and then gestures toward your car with his chin.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s take a look.”

You follow, standing closer to get a better look at him and you can see he’s even more gorgeous than you thought.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

After you introduce yourself, you watch him bend over the hood and grab a bandana from his back pocket.

He uses a wrench to loosen a steaming clamp and then grabs the hose with the bandana.

“It can get pretty hot,” he explains.

When he pulls the hose free you can see the leak and watch with relief as he easily contains it with a quick fix.

“This will hold long enough for you to get it somewhere and get it fixed.”

“I can’t thank you enough Bucky.”

He drops the wrench back in his toolbox and stuffs the bandana back into his pocket, all the while studying your face with soft eyes.

“Tell ya what doll face,” he starts. “I’ll follow you to the nearest repair shop to make sure you get there safely and then while you wait for your car to get fixed I'll take you out for a bite to eat.”

“On your bike?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a smirk. “Ever ridden before?”

You shake your head no.

His lopsided grin grows, and he leans in a little closer.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, doll.”

@randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @kmc1989 @hiddles-rose

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie’s having a strange day.

For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.

In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.

And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.

Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.

And hey. What the hell was that?

Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.

But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.

But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.

Doubtful.

Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.

“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.

Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.

“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”

Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”

Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.

Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”

“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”

Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”

Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.

“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”

“He did what?”

“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”

Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”

Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.

They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”

Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.

As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.

Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”

Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”

“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.

He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”

But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”

It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”

There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.

“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.

Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”

It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.

Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.

“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.

As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.

The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.

[lilacs-stars]

moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself. 

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance. 

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank. 

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash. 

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?” He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry. 

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him. 

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in. 

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory. 

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it. 

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch. 

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with. 

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose. 

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort. 

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound. 

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon. 

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently. 

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again. 

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night. 

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean. 

on to part 2! ->

leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Youve mentioned that shark soap is the first to use remora (I can't spell today) reader as a sex toy.

Does this possibly infer that someone else is the second 🤔

I 100% see it as price though. Or gaz,

hot filth coming right up <3

(shark mer 141 + remora mermaid reader au)

it’s Price. definitely Price the second time. probably because after Soap got to you, you became a little insatiable and you know... sleeping next to Price at night... things happen.

and Price is not opposed to Gaz joining in. (. ★ ᴗ ★.)

when it’s time to go to bed, Price lays back with you in his sandy cave nest. you press up into him and coil your tail, pressing the soft warmth of your body against his. even yawning and sleepy as you are, you know what your job is.

you set to work grooming his scales, his chest. you work your specialized palms meticulously across the planes of his body, leaving nothing untouched; no buildup of salt or grime unscraped.

it takes time. he’s much taller and broader a creature than you are.

he makes himself comfortable in his bed of sand, stretches out, and huffs as you situate yourself more firmly on top of him. your tail curls around his hip. he gives a low, pleased rumble. each brush of your nimble fingers soothes his mind and his ego. prized pet.

the sensation is strange—not quite a massage, but a satisfying feeling all the same. his muscles twitch as you brush over his chest. The beginnings of arousal coil in his stomach, and his scales grow warmer under your touch despite the cool water around them.

“that’s it,” he rumbles, placing his large hand on your hip. “keep going.”

you hum in acknowledgement.

under you, you feel him begin to unsheathe. you’re not surprised. this is the nightly routine, after all.

⬇ nsfw, d/s flavors + objectification, size diff, monster dicks, merman sex ⬇

you press your hips to his in idle response and line his emerging spear up to your sheath.

his hand on your hip gently squeezes. he shifts his body slightly to angle you properly.

“you’re in a rush, pet,” he chides, though he makes no move to stop you. in fact, he leans his head back. “you know i like to take my time.”

you bite your lip as the first cockhead pops out of his tail and directly into your slit. just the bulbous tip has your stomach muscles clenching. “s-sorry.”

“i know you are.” his fingers dig into your flesh in warning as you try to move. “but i’m not going to fuck you just like that.”

you rock against him anyway. as best you can—plant your palms on his chest and arch your back to better grind yourself down. he watches you writhe and buck against him like an animal in heat.

his free hand comes up to trace down your curved spine. “you’re being greedy. be good and let me set the pace.”

“mmhmm—!”

you try to slow, but you can’t. you want to be full. he smiles a slow, wicked smile. the tension in your body as you struggle to hold yourself back and fail is so pleasing. you look like you feel so empty without him.

“you’re being so naughty. is this how a good pet behaves, hm? trying to take more than you’re given?” he slides his hand around to your rear and squeezes it. “you’re going to wait until i say you can. you’re here to be used, not to beg me for what you want.”

you nod quickly. but still you rut your hips. you can catch him just right on your sensitive nub—

“stop that. you aren’t going to push me into going any faster.” he knows exactly where you’re trying to get him to touch you. he knows exactly how desperate you are. he gives your rear a firm slap. “behave.”

you whine. you make the prettiest little sounds when you’re desperate like this. you make so much noise, in fact, that Gaz stirs outside.

his voice echoes outside the cave. “sir?”

Price’s eyes don’t leave you. “what is it?” he calls back.

“is something wrong?” Gaz replies, hesitant.

“quite the opposite.”

you keep silent, now trying in earnest not to squirm. you can’t imagine Price wants to be found out like this—to be seen in so compromising a position.

you’d be wrong.

while you watch the dark cave entrance with wide eyes, Price pinches your nipple. you let out a loud gasp, bucking in shock.

Price grins. Gaz is right outside, listening to every sound with appropriate concern—why not take advantage of the opportunity? he wants Gaz to know.

he pinches again. harder. “come on, pet. make some noise for me.”

you cry out at the command, helpless to contain your pleasure.

he grows harder under you. “that’s a good girl,” he purrs. then he raises his voice. “Gaz, come.”

Gaz—pressed as close to the entrance of the cave as he could be without physically transgressing—is there in moments.

Price doesn’t so much as raise his eyes to Gaz in greeting. he simply shifts, finally pushing his cock into you to make you arch and better display you to his new audience. you struggle to suppress your whines, fins curling up behind you despite your best efforts.

Gaz’s gaze turns hungry and lingering. for all his performative concern, he must’ve been expecting this. but he doesn’t encroach. he doesn’t crowd you. he waits to be invited. permission must be granted before he can do anything but hover, eyes glued to you both.

“i said come. closer,” Price commands. “come look at my pretty toy.” he presses his hips up into yours, feeling himself slide deeper. your fingers flex and curl against his chest. such a small fish compared to them. a toy indeed.

soon, Gaz is pressed against your back, his hands feeling you up and down. Price is feeling indulgent—toward both of you—and Gaz is nothing if not an opportunist.

you get much, much more than you begged for. Price’s rough hands, his slow thrusts, the sweetened way orders fall out of his mouth like praise. Gaz’s steadying grip, his teeth on your shoulder, his cocks rutting into the curve of your spine, your ass.

following orders, isn’t he? both of you.

and you keep following those orders even after Price spends himself in you once—you clenching around him in euphoria after edging yourself so long awaiting his satisfaction; Gaz’s hands guiding his superior’s second cock into you with such rote efficiency you wonder who he wants to touch more. you’re swollen and used, and Price’s second cock feels bigger than the first. it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open as Gaz grabs your hips and pumps you up and down for Price’s pleasure.

Price watches with a lazy smile. it’s debauched. Gaz’s desperate need to please his superior; your willingness to be reduced and devoured; the way Gaz slides his own cock into you quietly; the way you take both his and Price’s without complaint despite the immense stretch. you arch between them, wrecked and writhing as they use you both for their own pleasure.

the friction of Gaz’s cock against his sends heat up Price’s spine, and he pulls out and fucks up into you, watching his length and Gaz’s disappear into your slit over and over until he cums again.

“such a good little pet,” Price growls through his teeth, low and sweet. “aren’t you?”

you promise you are. and you continue to be even when Price flips you over, putting you on your back as an offering to gaz.

it’s different when Gaz is having his way with you. it’s all for Price’s pleasure, the way he watches, the way he directs you—two of his favorite toys. Gaz keeps you open and on display to his superior and fucks you every way he knows Price likes.

each time Gaz speaks to you, touches you, moves you, it’s to please Price. but that’s what possesses you both—drives you and Gaz to the edge of your sanity, filled up by the overwhelming desire to please the man who watches you. you’re both props to each other. you’ve never wanted anything more.

as Gaz’s gentle orders turn strict and harsh, Price’s praise softens.

their words bleed together, and by the time they’ve had their fill of you, you’re more spent than you’ve ever been. a boneless, exhausted puddle, used and marked and bruised and deliriously happy.

Price runs his hand over the marks left over. handprints. bite marks. claims of ownership.

Gaz knows better than to hesitate. he wastes no time moving away with a nod from his superior. Price intends to enjoy his handwork—your weary form—alone.

you’re left gasping, body trembling and slick with spent pleasure. your hair is tangled, your body marked with bites and scratches, your eyes hazy from pleasure and exhaustion. despite it all, Price curls his big hand around your cheek. “are you satisfied?”

“if... if you are. sir.”

he smiles at the quivering of your voice, the way you still seek to please. “you don’t have anything else you’re craving, pet?”

it’s a teasing question. he knows you have nothing left to give, even if you wanted to.

your body twitches under his fingers as they trace you, sensitive from so much use. he sees how you shiver when he touches the bite marks left by Gaz’s possessive teeth. satisfaction coils in his stomach at the sight.

still. it’s a trick question to you. you can’t be sated until he is—you don’t want to be.

you press into his side and let your hand wander over his chest in a way that could be sweet or suggestive, depending on where his mind lingers.

it’s tempting to give you more. but he elects instead to sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your chest. you curl around him with a sweet sound.

“insatiable thing,” he rumbles. “sleep. you’ll have much more to tend to in the morning.”

more mer au / more Price / more Gaz / masterlist

[wolfiesmoon]

I can't sleep

Ran x good girl!reader

Do i want a bad boy (literal criminal) bf? Yea but i would probably cry if he insulted me or got into trouble in any capacity at all

(i am totally not unironically vibing to pretty little psycho while writing this)

edit: i made a part 2!!

"I dare you to kiss Haitani Ran." Your friend nudged you.

You knew you shouldn't have agreed to this stupid game of truth or dare. You knew your friend was going to make you do stupid stuff like this.

"Like... the big scary delinquent guy?" You asked, hoping you heard her wrong.

"Yeah, that Haitani Ran." Your friend smirked mischeviously.

"How about I don't do that?" The last thing you'd want to do is get involved wth any delinquents or gangs. You have no idea how dangerous Ran could be and even if he wasn't you'd still refuse to kiss a good for nothing delinquent.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" you followed up, realising just how bad this dare could end up.

"You do know that refusing this dare means that you have to do anything I say for a week, right?" Your friend had a horribly evil look on her face. You don't even want to know the things she would make you do if you refused this stupid dare.

But is kissing Ran any better? Pick your poison, you suppose.

"Fine, I'll do it." You said behind clenched teeth, not at all happy about this outcome. You've never even kissed before, and now you have to kiss freaking Ran Haitani. You might actually die.

Why did you agree? What is wrong with you?

This might just be the worst day of your life.

You ended up being a little unfocused in class, making your teacher worry.

.

"Haitani-san." you call out to him, your voice dying off slightly at the end due to nerves. You're the only ones left in the classroom, with your friend watching from behind the door to make sure you actually do it. He looks back at you and you feel a shiver run through you.

Oh my god, you're actually doing this.

He stops, waiting to see what you want with him. You move closer to him, and his eyes narrow slightly, as if he's getting a good look at you.

"Now, what could the class president herself possibly want with me?" his tone was slightly mocking and you would have showed him you're not to be messed with but honestly you'd probably be the one losing in that scenario.

You inhaled sharply, pulling him down by his braids and planting a kiss straight onto his lips. This feels like a bad shojo plot, the "good girl" falls in love with the "bad boy" and kisses him all of a sudden. Except there's no romance involved here. Just a dare.

Is this how you kiss? Why does it feel so strange? That should be enough, right? You can feel your parents shaking their heads dissaprovingly already.

Ok, now you're just kissing him for way too long. It's time to let go. And you try to, you really do. Since when were his arms wrapped around your waist, anyways? And why isn't he letting you go?!

You can feel your friend's evil stare burning into your back. This is not amusing!

He laughed a little into the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer. Oh, so they're both going to enjoy your suffering now, you see how it is.

Still, kissing him isn't half ba-

Ok, you're actually losing it. You need out and fast.

You wriggled out of his grasp, running away as fast as your legs could take you. You heard both Ran and your friend yell something behind you but you honestly don't care.

Why did you ever agree to do this?!

.

That same thought persisted even as you tossed and turned in bed that night.

"Oh god, he's going to send his goons after me and I'm gonna die... And then I won't ever get to become successful..." you muttered to yourself.

"Or maybe he's gonna come and kill me myself after school tommorow... Ugh..." you can't come to school tired, you won't be able to pay attention in class that way. You can't ruin your perfect record by falling asleep in class.

Who cares about the perfect record?! You should be worried for your life!

"And what is that stupid noise, anyways?" you muttered, grumbling and getting up to inspect the source. Another stone hits the window, making you jump slightly. You walk to the window and open it, narrowly avoiding a stone that was thrown your way.

"Sorry!~"

Wait. You'd recognise that voice anywhere.

It's Ran.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get my adress?" you half yelled, not wanting to wake up your parents.

"You shouldn't sweat the little things. Come downstairs." he was smiling calmly, but you still couldn't tell if he was threatening you. Actually, is that his motorcycle parked next to him?

"You should probably put on a jacket too. It's real cold." he added on, and you nervously closed the window, quietly sneaking downstairs and putting on a jacket. Your pyjamas are not the most presentable, but you really don't want to test his patience right now.

You met him outside. What is he going to do to you now?

"Get on." he pointed to his bike, catching you off guard.

"Not without a helmet, riding a motorcycle without one can be really dangerous and you could lose your life." you couldn't help but bring up safety regulations. It's in your nature.

"I told you, don't sweat the details and just sit down." he completely ignored you, pushing you in the direction of the bike. You complied, sitting down on it awkwardly, not sure what to expect. He doesn't seem violent...

He sat down behind you, revving up the engine and just driving off without a care in the world.

"W-Wait!" you were shocked at the speed, grabbing onto him by instinct and missing the way his lips curved up at that.

"Where are you taking me?! I never consented to this!" you had to yell over the sound of the engine, shutting your eyes. He was right, it really is cold when you're riding on a motorcycle.

"And you know what I didn't consent to? That kiss." he replied and your face scrunched up a little, cringing at the not so distant memory. "But that's fine, because that means you're mine now."

"Huh?!" you finally opened your eyes, looking up at him. His expression was a little hard to make out since the only thing illuminating it was street lights that you were speeding past. Is he even following the speed limit?

"I value my sleep, you see. And that little stunt you pulled made me unable to fall asleep. So I figured I might as well give you a little visit." he placed a hand over you protectively, making you worry about your safety even more.

"Who would have thought the top of the class good girl would fall for me?" he looked down at you.

"I did not fall in love with you! It was a dare!" you shot back.

"Oh well, doesn't matter. You're my girl now. And that's that."

[mysicklove]

𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐗!

DAY 11: COCK WARMING + NIPPLE PLAY

With: Suguru Geto

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: sub! geto, afab!/fem! reader (reader gets called "ma'am" once) , geto's nipples are abused :/, bottom reader, creampie, reader is a bit of a pervert, nipple piercings mention, begging and crying (like usual)

A/N: and you guys thought i would NEVER post for kinktober (nobody said this I just think u r thinking it). here I am. this one was strange to write tho idk. kinda wasn't feeling it :/ but maybe u guys will

You feel a kiss pressed into the back of your neck, and then two, and suddenly, you can feel your lover trying to plant a hickey on your skin. You pull away quickly, and the man behind you groans in annoyance. “Nice try. Relax, Suguru, you are being so needy,” You complain, readjusting yourself on his lap. Geto makes a low noise, similar to a whimper, and you can’t help but grin at the meek sound.

He recomposes himself, taking in a deep breath and letting out a low laugh. “Just give me a chance, my love. I will make you feel good. J-Just let me.” His words come out more of a plea, and he internally curses himself – pleading only makes it worse.

You stretch your arms out with a mewl, listening to the satisfying pop in your shoulders. Then, you collapse against Geto’s chest with a yawn. His hands rest on your thighs, and his leg begins to bounce, trying to distract himself. “Dont want to. Can we just relax and watch the movie?” You hum in return.

He faintly hears the movie playing in the background, but he can't pay attention to it. All he can think of is how badly he needs to cum, how desperately he craves to fuck you. You have been sitting on his cock for twenty minutes now, and he feels like he is going insane. “Please let me move. I will be quick, I swear. Just let me cum first, and I will watch the movie!”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Is that all I am to you? Something to fuck? I was trying to have a nice evening, and here you are ruining it cause you can't control yourself.”

Geto grinds his teeth together. He knows what you are doing, especially the way you tightened up just coincidentally after you said that. But still, he plays his part, knowing that it was worse not to. “It’s not like that, you know that.” He begins to kiss your neck, hoping to coax something out of you. “Just want it, s-so badly. Love you so much, but you are torturing me, you know that?” He murmurs, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He licks at his lips, and his fingers twitch on your thigh.

You shake your head, leaning forward to grab a piece of popcorn. The movement of you slightly raising yourself up and then down sends Geto moaning out, and his hands instinctually grab onto your hips. His fingers are shaking, and he is trying his best not just to hold you down and fuck you then and there. He wasn’t one to disobey that easily, instincts aside.

But as if nothing happened, you slump against his chest, feeding yourself some more popcorn.  “No,” You decide, leaning up to press a small kiss to his jaw. “I just want to relax here. ‘s comfortable. You are alright with that, yes, Suguru?”

His mouth goes dry, and he glares at the back of your neck. Suguru knows that is wasn’t simply because you wanted to relax – no, you wanted to tease him, to drive him insane. He wants to yell at you, but nothing will come out of that. So he tries to relax on the couch, spreading his legs and looking at the ceiling. “Yeah. ‘s fine. Relax. Relax,” he murmurs mostly to himself, trying to get himself not to buck his hips into you.

“Good boy,” You coo, pressing another couple of kisses to his neck. He, in turn, jumps with a noise just smaller than a whimper, but tries his best not to complain.

 And then the two of you remain silent for the next ten minutes. You just sat and watched the movie, and Geto found himself playing with anything he could to force himself not to move his hips. He even got soft for a moment when he spent a couple of minutes thinking about how gross curses taste, but with one sigh from you as your arms stretch out and reposition yourself on his cock, he finds himself hard again. 

But then, out of the blue, you turn yourself on his lap and face him. He gulps when he feels your cheek press against his chest while you wear a small grin on your face. You were planning something, he could tell. 

“This movie sucks,” You complain, “Need some better entertainment.”

Geto’s eyes widen and his breathing picks up. “Let me fuck you,” He breathes, using his shaky hands to tilt your jaw up to face him. “Please, I-I promise it will keep you entertained.”

You pull away from his grip, and the man furrows his eyebrows. “Not happening. If you ask again, I will leave you here. Do you understand Suguru?”

He does let a whine slip out this time, but you dont flinch at him, instead seeming to narrow your eyes even more. He nods his head, gulping, before saying, “Yes, ma’am.”

You frown at him, rubbing your thumb on his closed lips. “Poor baby. I wish your body were just as obedient as your mouth. Must be so frustrated.”

Your hands pull away from his mouth and trace down the flowy white tee shirt he wears for bed. They stop and circle the two erect nipples on his chest, and Geto flinches. “I am. Can you please help me?”

You pinch one of his nipples through the cloth and his whole body jerks. “I take it back. Your mouth is as whorish as your body,” You seem to seeth, and Suguru is quick to mumble out multiple apologies to try to get you to let go of the sensitive buds.

After a moment, you spare him and let go of them, but your hands trail to the base of the shirt before sliding under it until your hands touch his abdomen. Suguru gulps but doesn’t say anything as you force his shirt up and over his head. The cloth lands just behind his neck, but neither of you spares it a glance.

Then, your hands dance their way up to his nipples, causing his entire body to freeze. For the months you spent dating him, you have grown fawn of toying with the cute nubs. They were always an erogenous spot for your lover, but during sex, you make sure to always somehow stimulate them. Eventually, they became more and more sensitive, and sometimes, if you are lucky, you can hear him hiss out when they graze the fabric of his shirt while stripping. He has taken to baggier clothes instead of trying to reason with you.

Geto doesn’t move from his position, but his eyes look up at you in a plea. His chest was puffy from yesterday night’s teasing, and you could make out a faint bite mark that trapped the bud. “How do you manage to get cuter?” You sigh, gently pinching both of them in between your pointer and middle finger, which makes a low whine slip from his mouth.

“I dont think I have met anyone other than you that has a strange fascination in a male’s chest,” Suguru mumbles out, a small pout on his face that doesn’t last long, considering that your mouth has found its way to his chest.

His eyes widen, and his hands shoot from your thigh to the back of your hair. “H-Hey. Wait. Oh fuck. Gentle!” He borderline yelps, back arching against the couch as his eyes screw shut. It sends a shiver down his body, and with every drag of your tongue, he can feel himself grow overstimulated.

You grin into his skin, and he can feel your teeth graze against him. “I am,” you mumble out, moving to give the other nipple some attention. His hand tightens on your hair, and he grinds his teeth together to try to distract himself from the overbearing stimulation. It was borderline painful, but at the same time, he knew that the couple probably cum from that alone. And that’s what worried him.

“Now, can I?”

You cock your head to the side, dragging your tongue up his chest. “Can you what?”

Suguru goes quiet for a moment, mouth slightly open as another full-body shiver runs down his spine. “I dont want to cum like this,” he begs, dark eyes flickering to you in a plea, “I want–please let me fuck you. Please. Please!”. 

Your other hand creeps toward his other nipple, running circles around it. It was wet from your mouth, so your finger slides easily over the reddened flesh. His breaths are coming out in his pants, switching from holding his breath to try and ignore the sensation to rapid exhales as he tries to move his chest away from you. It was endearing, seeing him squirm because he usually held his composure well, always growing embarrassed when you tease him about it.

“Why? It feels good, yeah? I think you are going about this the wrong way, Suguru,” You sigh, now using both fingers to flick at the nub. Your lips are millimeters from his, and he is borderline breathing into your mouth. “It is a privilege to cum, y’know.”

Your lover licks at his lips, twitching and letting out a small yelp. “I-I know. Thankful for it. But, it’s a lot,” he whines, accidentally pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your lips when his body uncontrollably jerks. 

He shakes his head back and forth when you chuckle at him, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “It’s–You are driving me insane,” the man warbles, biting the inside of his mouth and shutting his eyes when you pinch him. His hands drift back to your waste again, and he rolls his hips upward. The action makes you raise your eyebrows, intrigued by the sudden defiance. 

“Dont wanna cum, dont wanna cum like this. Please, please, please move.” You watch as his hands ghost up and down your waist, most likely imagining what it would be like to have you bounce on him. His eyes are screwed shut, and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration – you even have to tear his lip from his teeth before it begins to bleed.

You dramatically sigh, finally tearing your fingers from his chest to pin them to your side. The action causes him to blink up at you in confusion, and you watch as a singular tear fall to his cheek. “You have 15 seconds to cum, do you understand?”

His body goes rigid, and he leans up from the couch to get closer to you. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. “you can fuck me. Your time starts now.” 

In an instant, you are being pinned to his chest with his face buried into your neck. His hands dig into your waist, and he begins his frantic thrusts upward. Loud moans are breathed into your shoulder, and his mouth begins to pepper your skin in love bites. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Geto chants, eyes falling contently shut.

Your eyes widen at the suddenness of it all, especially the fact that your face was now suffocating in his chest. But you take this as an opportunity, and immediately your mouth falls on the closest nipple, using your teeth to nibble at it gently.

The reaction is immediate; Geto curses out as his back slightly arches. His pace doesn’t let up even with the sensitive distraction, and more tears seem to tumble down his face. “Ten seconds,” You whisper into his chest, trying to hide the tremble in your voice from how rough he was being with you. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world, simply focusing on his pleasure alone. You didn’t know if you found that cute or annoying.

“W-Wait. Give me five more. Y-You’re counting too fast!” He frantically demands, pulling you tighter toward him. You dont respond, instead trying to find some breathing room to switch to the other nipple. This time when you do latch onto it, you bite it harder than any of the other times, and Geto lets out a screeching sound. Tears cascade down his face, and he whimpers out in pain, but nevertheless, he continues to thrust upward, not willing to miss out on his orgasm.

“Five seconds,” You purr, and at the words, he begins to cry into your neck. Strong arms encompass your entire frame, and he digs his fingers into any surface he can on your body. But his sounds were higher in pitch, and his thrusts were uneven, so you could tell that he was close.

“Three…” He shakes his head back and forth, thick hair tickling your shoulder as his breaths become shorter. His eyes begin to widen, and he gulps, continuing with his hip movements. The room fills with loud slapping noises and pants from both parties. 

“Two…”

But you didn’t get to one because after sending one last long lick to the sensitive bud, Getos comes crashing down. The sound he lets out is breathless, similar to a moan and hiccup, like he struggling to breathe. He throws his head back, and it is just centimeters away from knocking into your chin, but you dont have the energy to tease him. Besides, even if you did, he wouldn’t listen, not in this state at least.

Cum begins to leak out and slide back onto his dick, and the feeling makes you sigh. Getos orgasm lasts around twenty seconds, but even after, his body twitches with aftershock. You watch sweat drip down his neck, and his chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath,  But he wears a lazy grin on his face, eyes hazy, but completely content, finally sedated. 

Geto releases your arms and collapses back onto the couch with one last deep sigh. You take this time to inspect his body, grinning to yourself when you catch sight of his nipples. When he catches your gaze, his arms immediately reach out to cover himself. “No more nipple play for a long, long, long time. You are officially cut off from my chest.”

You let out a loud whine in complaint. “You can’t do that! I was just thinking about piercing them!”

The man stares at you incredulously, shivering at the idea of a needle driving through his already oversensitive nipples. “You must be crazy,” he sighs, “and a pervert. Now get off me, let’s go get cleaned up. I want to finish the movie.”

“Uh huh, so now you want to watch the movie with me!” He doesn’t respond, instead just grabbing you by the waist and dragging you toward the bathroom. 

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[clawsdevour]

just a dream

wc: 0.7k content warning: ur childhood friends w/ kageyama, kageyama has a dirty dream, kageyama x reader, not proofread

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Friends since childhood, Kageyama always had this nagging feeling whenever he saw a glimpse of you or heard your name pop up. Something about you pulled at his heart strings. 

Dense and focused on his volleyball career, he didn’t have time to figure out his true feelings for you. He always categorized you as his friend when he knew you were more to him than just a friend. That was until this one night that had him questioning his intentions with your friendship.

Deep asleep and tightly snug in his linen sheets, Kageyama’s tossing and turning around more than usual. He’s dreaming again. However it’s not just any ordinary dream, because you were in it. 

He’s watching himself in his own perspective getting on top of you as your welcoming arms reach out for him. His brows are furrowed and tweaking despite being dead asleep. You’re both in bed as he’s planting his loving kisses on your moonlit face. Starting from your forehead, gently moving lower with each peck. Jaw, lips, neck, stopping at your collarbone while he’s gazing at your breathless reactions with his sharp and piercing eyes that stung with desire.

His face is burning a pink hue while the cold air brushes against the surface of his skin as he continues observing his dream. His large hands ran up your shirt and under your bra, pulling them up to expose your little rosy nubs for his viewing pleasure.

Leaning down towards your body, he’s stroking your nipples with a foreign sensation due to his warm tongue causing you to whimper in delight. The noises and sounds that escaped your mouth created an uncomfortable bulge to appear in his pajama pants under the thick sheets. He’s able to feel the hardness grow between his legs as if watching an erotic film starring you in it.

His other hand pressed down at your crotch, the heat simmering between you two while you’re rubbing your thighs together. Unlatching his tongue from your breast, he’s using both hands to slide down your pants. Revealing your lacy panties to him as he felt the blood in his veins rush to his face at your choice in clothing.

Once more, his digits felt you against the thin piece of fabric. Circling your clit slowly while watching you subtly squirm before pulling your panties down by the sides. Your bare cunt hissed feeling the cool air hit your body, back arching slightly off the mattress. His eyes fluttered with surprise seeing how wet you became with his touch.

He’s unable to make out the words that you mouthed at him, as if his dream was inaudible. But Kageyama’s body knew what you told him to do. And that was to insert his erection into your entrance that’s been laced with your glossy essence. 

Taking out his bulge from his restraining pants, he’s stroking it a few times in between grunts and groans. Lining his tip against your warm extract before that one final push in. But right as he enters in about an inch, Kageyama arises from his deep sleep.

Kageyama’s dry eyes pried open from shock. He’s gasping out pants in a cold sweat, trying to understand what he just dreamt about. Me and my childhood friend? Why did I just have a dream like that… especially one as strange as this? His thoughts circulated through his currently groggy mind while sitting up in bed, the blanket half off to air out the heat that radiated off his toned body. 

His legs shuffle in the sheets as he’s letting gravity pull him back down towards his fluffy pillow, sinking into the softness his head laid upon. However, feeling a bit of a cold moisture resting on his crotch. His beady half lidded eyes peer up from his pillow, pulling up his waistband with his fingers to see what it’s all about. 

To his surprise, his tip produced precum that seeped out and onto him, creating a slightly wet spot on his briefs. He took one last sigh, knowing this interrupted his sleep schedule for practice the next day. Letting his heavy and drowsy eyelids take over, drifting back into sleep. Thinking that he wouldn’t really have to deal with this human bodily function. The dream didn’t come back even though he had a little hope that it would.

Little did Kageyama know, the dream was a reflection of his true feelings.

masterlist here

[tetsuskei]

synopsis: kuroo fathoms how his childhood has affected his life growing up into adulthood, and ultimately fatherhood

notes: reupload from last year. actually get to uploaded on mother’s day. daughters have curly hair (based of my hair kinda). self indulgent. for context, reader have two daughters named akira (7) and sora (4).

work count: 2.5k

warnings: tough family relations, angst, fluff

mother's day is a strange day for kuroo tetsurō.

he never grew up close to his mother, his only memories being from when he was younger than six. they were hazy.

most of the memories unfortunately surround his father and mother arguing—whether that was somewhere off nearby or being heard from through the walls.

in the past, with the little memories he had of his mother, he tried not to think so badly of her.

but when he had reached out to her a number of years later, he was met with an unfortunate sight. she had moved on from kuroo and his father—starting a brand new life with a new husband, and also a new child. a daughter. a half sibling he hadn't known about.

he hasn't talked to his mother since then.

but now mother's day is also full of blessings and happiness for kuroo, too. because he has you, of course. the best mother to his children.

he had strictly told his assistant to make sure he had no work on mother's day. he always tried to work a little overtime (whether it was his will or not) but needed to be sure that nothing would interfere with this day.

you're luckily, not the lightest sleeper, but it will only be a matter of time before you would realize kuroo isn't in bed. which is why he tactfully grabbed his last worn suit jacket and placed it over his pillow for you to hold.

that would be able to stave you off for awhile.

his next step is to wake up your girls. he had discussed with them the plan for mother's day, which included making you breakfast and providing you with your gifts, and of course spending time with you.

he just forgot to factor in two small things: getting them awake and dressed.

"rise and shine my sweet angels." he softly coos, abruptly opening up the blinds for light.

the youngest, sora, sleepily squirms in her bed, rubbing her eyes (one's that match her father's) and squints.

"there she is!" he cheers, coming over to plant kisses on his daughter's face. he lifts her in his arms, swinging her a bit. "good morning, sweetheart."

"papa, stop!" she giggles, trying to avoid his lips.

he frowns, pausing, "do you not love me?"

her eyes—the same warm hazel as his—widen with shock. "of course, papa!"

kuroo beams, resuming his kiss attack, "good, because i love you sooo much. let's try to get your sister up, kay?" he hums, sora nodding before hopping out of his arms to jump on top of her sibling.

akira, the eldest, has always been a grumpy sleeper—he often left you to wake her up because, well, frankly put: kuroo is scared of his own daughter and her wrath.

"up! wake up, 'kira!" sora jumps on top of her sister, shaking her.

there's a small sound of noise as kuroo approaches his eldest daughter's bedside. "looks like someone is awake after all." he manages to find her face in her bundle of sheets and laughs at how much she looks like you when she's grumpy. "good morning, princess."

"...i'm not awake." akira mumbles, rolling over.

he sits for a moment, and thinks of the one thing that he's best at.

scheming.

"oh, well i guess if you're not awake, you won't be able to get any yummy pancakes for breakfast, will you? it's a shame because they're your favorite—chocolate chip. sora, mommy, and i will just eat them all and celebrate mother's day without you, then..." he says sadly, faking a pout.

akira sits up straight, glaring at her father. "you wouldn't dare."

he smirks, "i would." he pats her head, kissing her nose. "come on kiddo, time to get up."

she doesn't seem convinced until it registers in her mind what he said earlier, "mother's day!"

"momma day!" sora cheers, springing out of bed. kuroo catches her in his arms, hushing her softly.

he grunts as he squats down to their level, but beckons akira to him.

"we're going to play the quiet game, okay? your mom is still asleep right now and we don't want to wake her up yet to ruin the surprise. so i need you two to stay quiet. can you two do that for me?" he asks.

the two nod with enthusiasm, giggling as they rush off to get teeth brushed and ready. he helps them get their outfits out while they do so.

getting them dressed was only half the battle, now the real battle was taming their hair.

"oh god..." he grumbles, staring at the sight in front of him.

both of your daughters had a hair type similar to yours (thankfully) but that means that they also inherited the unruliness of their father's hair.

he's watched you do their hair, marveled at the way that your hands moved skillfully to create whatever updo they wanted.

"okay tetsurō, we can do this." he hypes himself up in the mirror, just like before his pitches for his job.

he starts with sora, who requests 'piggies' (pigtails).

"i'm forgetting something..." he mumbles, looking around. but after searching for god knows how long he moves on.

"no!" there's a yelp and akira smacks her dad's hand away from her sisters head.

he blinks, "what?"

"papa, you can't brush without the water." sora says, handing him a spray bottle.

it suddenly clicks for him. "oh, you're right. thank you, darlings." he kisses the top of their heads.

after finishing his handiwork he adds ribbons to her hair. not the best but honest work.

he gives akira 'bunnies' (buns), and before he knows it, he's done.

getting down to the kitchen and making breakfast was the final step.

tetsurō likes to think he's a decent cook. he pales in comparison to you, but pancakes can't be that hard to make, right?

"oops," sora mumbles, knocking over the pancake mix. it falls onto the ground, but part of it also lands on her sister.

"girls," kuroo says sternly, hands on his hips.

they instantly stop, freezing.

there's a frown on his face, and it makes the two of them shiver. "if you keep that attitude up, neither one of you will get pancakes. sora, you're going to have to clean up the mess you made, and akira i need you to help your sister get the broom since she's too small for it. do you both understand?"

"yes, sir." they say in unison, moving to complete their tasks.

he smiles, voice gentle again, "thank you."

they do as told, and while they clean up, he's able to get breakfast going. he gives them minimal tasks (ones that don't involve a mess).

"alright, why don't you guys try the pancakes to make sure they're yummy enough for mommy."

"oh!" akira scrambles over, ready to take a bite.

unfortunately her sister swoops in, stealing the fork and eating the food.

akira glares, grumbling, "thief!"

sora quickly flees from her sister, running around the island.

kuroo starts to call after them, "hey—"

"sounds like you guys are having fun all without me." the sound of your voice alerts all three of them to you, standing sleepily in the opening of the doorway.

the sound of your entrance makes your girls run to you, and you don't hesitate to embrace them in your arms.

you stand back up straight, holding up your husbands clothes, "did you really try to replace yourself with your suit jacket?"

"you said my cologne smells nice, so—" he mumbles, padding over to you like a child before taking your face in his hands, "you're not supposed to be up right now, by the way."

you laugh, "i won't lie, it worked for a minute. then i realized how cold and soft everything was."

"are you calling me hard? like a rock?" he jokes.

you poke his stomach, "with all this muscle, yeah."

"i'll take that as a compliment, then. happy mother's day, sweetheart." he smiles, kissing your forehead before leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

there's a noise of disgust, and you look at your two daughters who are gagging.

"he has cooties, momma!" sora whines.

you laugh, "i'm sorry, girls. but your daddy's cooties are my favorite."

3:45 p.m.

on mother's day, tetsurō likes to take time to focus on his oba-san. he always brings her, her favorite flowers. today he brings along his girls while you went off to brunch with your own mother.

"you're doing a great job." his grandmother smiles sweetly at him.

"huh?" he looks up, startled by her comment, he looks away from his daughters.

"you're doing well, tetsurō. stop worrying so much." she looks off at his daughters playing, "you're raising two beautiful, respectable young girls there. you and your wife should be proud."

"ahh, is it that obvious?" he laughs, scratching the back of his head, blushing red. it scares him how much that woman can read him like a book. there's five people in his life who can do that and he wonders if it's five too many. but it never will be.

"well, i did learn from the best, after all." he smiles, holding her hand. it's rare and few nowadays that he can break down his barriers and become vulnerable (with anyone besides you, of course). but he will always be his oba-san's tetsu-chan.

it's a blessing and a gift for his girls to see their great grandmother, he thinks. not many people can do that.

6:04 p.m.

"i hope you're proud of yourself, tetsu-kun."

kuroo lastly visits kenma's mother, the latter had already been by earlier and is not present at the moment due to his different schedule.

he sits up, "proud of...?"

"your abilities as a father." kozume-san smiles, "you've always looked out for others, that was evident with our kenma. so i have no doubt that you turned out to be such a great father. you and your wife are doing amazing."

he quietly says thank you, pausing as he thinks and ruminates over a thought.

"do you think things could've been different?"

the woman looks up, understanding his intended meaning. if kenma's perception came from anyone, it's his own mother.

"you mean, if your mother was present?"

he nods, quiet.

"well, certainly different," she starts, "but you've grown up fine as you are now. so it's not to say you didn't need a mother—but you at least have mother figures."

"as long as i'm around and i'm sure your grandmother, as well as your wife, you will always have someone there to support and cherish you."

he blinks back tears and smiles, "thank you."

9:32 p.m.

kuroo grimaces, staring at the contact.

he'd been pacing for the past fifteen minutes, conflicted over what he should do.

thumbs move over the screen before he can even think about what he's doing and suddenly the tone dial is in his ear. he's never had his heart beat so fast before—not during a volleyball match, or an important exam, or a job interview.

he feels like he's on fire with nerves. this might be the hardest thing he's ever done in his life.

voicemail.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words won't come out. he feels choked up, not knowing what to do. wondering why the right words won't come out. he's a man of suaveness and eloquence. it's in the job title, so why is he blanking right now?

but this is not a job, this is real life.

he hangs up, not knowing what to say. he's frustrated with himself for now as many thoughts swirl his mind. he doesn't know how to untangle them and organize them in a way that makes sense.

kuroo doesn't sense your presence when you walk in the room, and that's how you know somethings wrong. it had been a long day and you barely had any time to yourselves and more importantly to check in with him.

you place your hand on his arm, gently squeezing him. "tetsu, what's wrong? what's bothering you?" you hold his face in your hands, eyes scanning over the small creases in his face.

he runs his thumb over your soft skin. quiet as he gathers his thoughts.

"...am i a terrible father for keeping the girls away from my mother?" he asks, looking at you.

you're silent for a good while, and he worries that you'll respond with rage, maybe even mild resentment. he doesn't know if he can handle that.

"that's ultimately your choice, tetsurō. it's not my right or place to force you to reconcile with your mother for the sake of our children."

"i mean, don't you have some right as the mother of my children?" he points out, "they'll wonder in the future about her. i know that for sure."

"'ro, you do it because you want to. not because you feel like you have to." you say, giving him a smile. "besides, they love their hii obasan and my mother very much. they have plenty of people in their lives that make sure they are loved and make it well known."

"i don't know what you have going on between you and your mother, but whenever you're ready to share the full story, i will be here."

and so he unloads the heavy burden he had been carrying with him for years, feeling his chest tighten at times as he recalls events. you can tell he's trying his best to remain impassive, but you hold him tightly, hoping he knows you're there for him and you aren't going anywhere.

once he finishes, it's eerily quiet. you both don't say anything for a moment.

"it's okay to cry, tetsu." you murmur against his forehead. "you don't have to act like you're okay all the time for other people's sake. think of yourself for once."

he relaxes at your words, inhaling sharply and closing his eyes. you feel his tears stream down his face and wipe gently, reaching over the bedside to dab his eyes away with tissues.

"you're...you're right. that's the one thing that matters most to me. growing up, i always felt sometimes that the adults get lost in their own worlds and forget about the children." he laughs, running his hand over his face.

"so you don't want them to feel alone." you say, grabbing his hand. there's a silent understanding as you recall your own childhood. it wasn't a bad one, but that doesn't dismiss the turmoil that was trudged through. "and we won't let that even happen."

"yeah." he says, closing his eyes.

"and you're not alone either," you add, "we do things as a team, remember that."

"i'm very thankful to have a mother of my children be someone as angelic as you." he hums, kissing your forehead, cheeks, and nose.

suddenly, his phone lights up and you both stare at it in silence. the name reads 'don't pick up!'.

kuroo takes an exhale, picking up the device. mind swimming with thoughts and anxiousness as his thumb hovers the screen.

he answers.

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 1]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist

| mafia!Simon x fem!Reader - mild unwanted touching |

it wasn't easy living on borrowed time

wc: 4.9k

Six years later.

Sometimes, if you squeezed your eyes shut tight enough, you could pretend you were somewhere else.

The gentle hum of the dryers around you could be confused with the electrical whirring of the tube, and you could convince yourself you were traveling outside of London. Or maybe it was a spaceship taking you to some far off planet with strange plants that glowed as you weaved between their stems and leaves. The swishing of the washers could be mistaken for the sound of roaring waves of an ocean, and you could almost feel the water lapping at your feet while a small flock of seagulls played alongside you. 

But your escapism was fleeting, and you were always brought back to the cruel reality that you were nothing but a silly girl playing with string in a laundromat. Cat’s cradle was what it was called. It was a game no one wanted to play with you as a kid, because there was always something more interesting to do than play with string. But that was fine. It taught you the most important lesson you ever learned: keep your hands moving. If your hands were still, the humming of the washer and dryers around you might get overwhelming, or the buzzing of the cheap laundromat lights could drive you insane. If your hands were still, you might have thought too much about the unmarked envelope that sat in your lap and who would be coming to pick it up. 

However, the thing was, no matter how often you moved from the soldiers bed formation to the candles formation, every now and then you would end up with a knot in the center of the design. It was supposed to be a simple move, a gentle weaving of your fingers between the strings to get to the next section, but you always ended up ruining it somehow. Hands well versed in mistakes, no amount of practicing could erase the fact that errors were intertwined with your DNA. 

The noise of London suddenly grew to a thundering roar as the laundromat door opened to allow entrance to another patron. Eyes locked onto the string in your hands, you tried not to pay attention to the fact that this man entered without any clothes to wash. Of course you could assume he was there to pick something up, but you knew better than that. His footsteps were loud and overdramatic on the tile floor as he sauntered over to you and made his home on the bench next to you despite the fact that there were plenty of open spots elsewhere. 

Oddly enough, it wasn’t this man's close proximity to you that made you uncomfortable, though it certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was the scent of him. It only got worse as he reached his arm behind you on the bench as if the two of you were friends, and it washed over you in a suffocating wave. It was his cologne. While it smelled expensive, he used it as if it was as cheap as water, and it burned your nose so fiercely your eyes nearly began to water. 

“You’ll have to show me how to play that sometime,” he said, disregarding any formal greeting. 

As you unwound the string from your fingers, you ignored the way his hand brushed against your thighs as he grabbed the unmarked envelope out of your lap. He was always touchy like that, as if the two of you had known one another your whole lives, and though he made your skin itch, you knew better than to say anything about it. Marco, your unwanted friend, was not known for his patience. 

“Maybe some other time,” you replied, which only made him chuckle. 

While you shoved your string into the pocket of your pants, Marco got to work on opening the envelope. A small wad of cash was stashed inside, and he eagerly pulled it out before counting it by hand. You dared a glance at him while he was occupied, though you didn’t find anything new about him that you didn’t already know. His style was just as simple and flashy as usual with acid washed jeans and several unnecessary decorative chains hanging from the belt loops. There were a few new scrapes on his knuckles, but that wasn’t anything surprising either. Though you didn’t know exactly what he did in his free time, you had a pretty good idea. 

“Perfect, as usual,” he quipped as he finished counting the notes. 

Marco stood from the bench as he shoved the envelope into the pocket of his jumper, stowing away all the money you had given him. You wanted him to leave. Wanted him to walk out of there without making a fuss and leave you be with your stupid game of string, but he didn’t. He always had something more to say. 

“Hey,” he said as he stood in front of you. 

He gently kicked your foot, prompting you to look up at him, which you reluctantly complied with. Marco wasn’t a bad looking man, though you still hated making eye contact with him all the same. Really, with a sharp jawline like that and eyes the same shade of grass, he could have been a model. Instead, he got caught up in the darker side of London, and unfortunately, so had you. 

“You’ve been pretty good at making full payments,” he commented. His eyes glanced up and down at you as if he could caress you with his gaze alone, and once again you found your skin tingling. No amount of good looks could erase the fact he was filthy and slimy just like usual. “My offer is still on the table if you find yourself having trouble, though.” 

He did it on purpose. Of course he did. It was a poorly kept secret that you weren’t really good at conversing with people, and eye contact never came easy for you. So of course he made you look at him before saying that to you. Maybe he thought it was funny. Maybe he just liked the fear that blossomed in your eyes. 

“No thanks,” you said, voice small. 

Shrugging, he took a step away from you while patting his pocket. “Alright. You know where to find me when your luck runs out, babe.” 

When he turned to leave you were finally free to cast your gaze back to the tile floor, and you found the grime there significantly easier to look at than Marco. Yet it did nothing to comfort the anxiety rising in your chest. Most days that feeling gripped your heart so tightly you swore one day it wouldn’t be able to pump at all, and still, you endured. As if you had any other choice. There was no flourishing in your life. There was no moment where you were able to sit and enjoy a cup of tea without something raging in your chest or mind. Because even in your laughter, even in your good moments, all you ever did was survive. 

It wasn’t easy living on borrowed time. 

Just when you had calmed your nerves, just when you were ready to leave that wretched place, your phone began to buzz in your pocket. In the process of fishing it out of your pocket, the string you had used to play cat’s cradle tumbled out with it and plopped on the floor. It stared up at you as if to make fun of you. As if to remind you that your only comfort was a stupid piece of string. Sighing, you reached down to grab it as you looked at the caller ID on your screen. 

“Hello?” you answered as you pressed the phone to your ear. 

“Hey! I just wanted to check in to see if you still planned on coming tonight?” the chipper voice of your friend, Row, hummed through the line. 

Row was probably your closest and only friend, and even through the phone you could imagine her sweet smile and the slight tilt of her head as she spoke. You had known her since you were a kid, and she had grown to become more of your sister than anything else. She always doted on you like a sibling, called you weekly, insisted that she saw you at least monthly; sometimes it was as if she was more of your mother than anything else. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied with a soft chuckle. 

“Good. Do you need a ride? John should be leaving work any minute if you want him to pick you up,” Row suggested. 

“No, that’s alright,” you insisted. “I’ve got a few things I need to finish up, so I’ll just take the bus over.” 

“Alright, but if you change your mind just let me know. I’ll make him turn around if you need,” she added humorously before pausing. “What’s that sound?” 

Confused, you glanced around the area until you remembered where you were at. The simple drone of the washers and dryers were just as loud as ever, and one of the various machines had just announced their finished cycle with a lovely little chime. 

“Oh, I’m at the laundromat,” you explained simply. 

“Well, alright. I’ll let you go so you can finish your chores,” Row said with a sigh. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” 

The smallest of smiles overtook your lips at her tone, and you nodded your head despite the fact she couldn’t see you. “See you in a bit.” 

When the line died, all the tension in your body seemed to melt away, but the strain in your mind only grew. All your social energy had already been expended after dealing with Marco, and you still had a dinner to go to. Usually your dinners with Row and her husband, John, were fine, but she informed you some of John’s work associates would be tagging along which meant more people to meet. Maybe you should have said no, or made up some excuse. If it had been any other day except that day, it would have been easier, but you never wanted to draw suspicion. Row could sniff out a problem like it was a bad wound. 

So you stood from that uncomfortable metal bench and slid your phone back into your pocket. The glass doors of the laundromat showed the hoards of pedestrians mingling about outside, and you found yourself swallowing at the sight. With a final glance around the area, you swiftly exited the building empty handed. It felt odd leaving a laundromat without any clothes to take home, but you never did laundry on the 25th of the month anyway. 

After a short stop by your apartment for a change of clothes, you found yourself on an uncomfortably crowded bus during the busiest time of the day. It would take you the better part of half an hour to make it to Row’s house, but that was alright with you. Despite the mass of fleshy bodies around you, all you had to do was stick your earbuds in, listen to music, and watch the scenery pass you by. It was grounding being the observer. Stuck in some sort of in between, only being able to watch, unable to be touched. It was safer that way. Usually. 

Eventually the concrete and glass buildings softened into something more colorful and natural. Golden trees waved in the chilly October breeze and you watched their leaves fall like raindrops where they covered the ground in a saffron blanket. When the bus finally reached your stop, you exited where you were greeted by the soft scent of old rain and wet leaves. That aroma continued to follow you as you walked down the cracked pavement towards Row’s house. Her and her husband were very well off and lived in a neighborhood that represented that fact well. Perfectly manicured lawns, pristine paneling, and fresh paint were the trademark features on every home you passed, which was loads different than you were used to in the city with chipped brick and peeling wallpaper. 

By the time you reached the house the sun had just started to dip below the horizon, and you could clearly make out the warm glow of the kitchen lights bleed through the sheer curtains that covered the windows. Several unfamiliar vehicles parked in an odd pile in the driveway, which consisted of rather pricey looking cars and even a motorcycle. Belonged to John’s work partners, no doubt. Even though you had showed up ten minutes early, it looked like everyone else had already arrived. Perhaps you should have taken that ride from John after all because the thought of walking into a crowded home with all eyes on you had you grimacing. But you couldn’t face him while your anxiety was still high from dealing with Marco. You would just have to grit your teeth and bear it.

After steadying yourself with a deep breath, you approached the door with as much faux confidence as you could muster before knocking. Over the years, you had gotten quite good at concealing the anxiety that often wracked your brain, and even when your thoughts got the better of you, it rarely ever showed on your face. When living with an untamable beast for so long, you had at least gotten good at yanking back on the leash. 

Moments later the door opened with a click and you were greeted by Row’s beaming smile. Boisterous laughter boomed behind her as she reached her arms out to embrace you. You fell into her hug with a slight giggle before she pulled you inside the warmth of the house. 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” she exclaimed as she led you through the entrance. “I know you’ve been really busy with work and all.” 

“I traded shifts with one of the other hostesses, so it’s not a big deal,” you politely excused. 

“Of course. God forbid they give you a proper day off,” Row chuckled. “But you came just in time! John and I just finished cooking, and the boys are all already here if you wanna grab a seat in the dining room.” 

You had been over at Row’s house plenty of times that you didn’t exactly need to be coddled anymore, and yet she still insisted on leading you through the kitchen and to where the others waited. Several dishes of food adorned the rectangular table, and it looked like the only thing that was missing was the main course which could be noted by a large, empty spot toward the center. Plates, cutlery, and glasses of water awaited at all six spots, three of which were already occupied by unfamiliar faces. 

Row made introductions simple and quick as the two of you took your seats. First, there was a man named Johnny. You vaguely recognized his voice as one of the louder ones you first heard when you entered the house, and he was just as smiley as his laughter would have you believe. A messy, flattened mohawk sat on his head, and several piercings adorned his ears with a silver glint. Then there was Kyle, a handsome man with an easy smile, he greeted you with a kind nod of his head. You couldn’t help but think about what a good complexion he had, but you opted to keep that thought to yourself. 

Then there was Riley. He was easily the largest, and frankly the most intimidating out of all of John’s other guests. Slight hints of tattoos poked out underneath his sleeves by his wrists, and there were a few faint scars on his face that lined up with the unnatural curve of his nose. There was an aura about him that you couldn’t quite place, but all you knew for sure was that when he looked at you with eyes so piercing and dark, your stomach felt odd. 

“Boys, this is Chip,” Row introduced

The ceremonious use of your nickname nearly made you cringe, and yet you kept an even face despite it. Really, you should have been used to it by that point. That name followed you around everywhere, even the cooks at work called you that. But that could most likely be attributed to the fact that they probably forgot what your name actually was. Either way, none of the men got the chance to ask you about it before John entered the dining room, ready to serve the main course. 

Dinner went just as you expected it to go. Everyone conversed around you while you kept your eyes on the food in front of you. Your reasoning for staying so quiet wasn’t because you were bad at talking, or didn’t want to participate; it was because your mind was still restless over the day's events. You would speak when someone asked you a question, or maybe give your input when prompted, but otherwise your mind always wandered back to Marco and that stupid laundromat. You could still feel his hand graze against your thigh, feel his arm around your back, still smell him. If it wasn’t looked down upon, you would have taken the string out of your pocket to distract yourself. 

The conversation was entertaining, at least. There was friendly banter between the men, inside jokes you didn’t quite understand, and several Scottish expressions from Johnny that were quickly met by Riley jokingly telling him to speak English. Even Row chipped in with her own fiery humor that left the boys poking fun at one another. Yet your attention kept returning to the large figure on your right. Perhaps it was the scars on his face that had intrigued you so much, or the small hint of tattoos that played peek-a-boo by his wrists, but there was something about him that drew you to him. So much so that you stared at him, something that he quickly caught on to. His eyes met yours for only a split moment before you quickly glanced back to your empty plate, embarrassed. 

“Price,” Johnny said just as everyone had finished their meal, “I heard you got a new pool table.” 

John wiped his mouth off on his napkin before he haphazardly tossed it onto his plate. “This your way of askin’ to play a round?” 

“Might be,” Johnny grinned. 

Chuckling, John stood from his seat and began to gather everyone’s plate, balancing them as best as he could on his forearm. “Alright. But I don’t want any of you muppets scratching up the felt, yeah?”

“Tell that to Garrick,” Johnny quipped as he nodded to the man sitting next to him. 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Kyle mumbled. 

“What about you, Chip?” Johnny then asked. 

Surprised to hear your name, your ears perked up at the sound as you glanced at the men at the table. Clearing your throat, you offered them a sheepish smile. “Oh, I’ve never really played before.” 

“That’s alright. Riley’s a good teacher,” he insisted as he nodded to the man next to you. 

It was impossible to say no with so many eyes on you, looking at you so expectantly, hoping you would say yes. Even Row seemed a little interested in your answer, and you knew that if you denied their request she would just find some way to rope you into it anyways. You spared a glance towards Riley, who busied himself by taking a sip of his water, yet you were certain you saw his gaze flicker to you as he set his glass back on the table. 

Bashfully, you agreed, and you found yourself in the dim lighting of the garage with a pool stick in your hand. While Row and John cleaned up the mess left from dinner, Kyle set up the table where he racked all of the balls in a perfect triangle. Riley, who apparently was the master at pool, was the one invited to make the first shot. The crisp sound of the cue ball whacking against the others echoed off the dull garage walls, and the tight triangle had dispersed like buckshot across the table. 

One by one the boys took turns making their shots. Just like Johnny had teased previously, you learned Kyle really wasn’t all that great at pool, and you had to do your best to stifle your giggles at their teasing, because you knew that you would do significantly worse when your turn came around. In order to prepare yourself, you watched the others like a hawk as they took their turns. You noted hand placement, how they leaned across the table, how they eyed up their shots; all of it. 

Yet when your turn came, you didn’t feel any more confident than you had previously. You were on Riley’s team, which meant you were stripes, and your only saving grace was that the cue ball seemed perfectly lined up with one for easy pocketing. But when you attempted to position yourself everything fell out of place. The stick position felt awkward, and you couldn’t get it stable enough to make a clean shot. You were about to make a fool of yourself, you were sure of it. 

“Here,” Riley said as he leaned his cue stick against the table. 

His warmth suddenly engulfed you as he stood behind you, chest brushing against your back. It took everything in you not to boil alive under his touch as he guided your hands into position so that you could strike efficiently. Your guiding hand rested firmly against the table, and your grip on the stick was significantly more secure. Eventually everything felt more stable; everything except your mind. Riley’s close proximity had your diaphragm freezing, and you tried your best to ignore the way his breath fanned across your ear as he spoke. 

“Steady, yeah? Strike right here in the center, angle a little bit to the left,” he guided. 

Eventually his hands slid off of you and his chest was no longer at your back, but his scent still lingered. It was pleasant. There was a hint of some sort of cologne, but it wasn’t overwhelming, unlike Marco’s. There was the scent of tobacco mixed with the earthiness, though it was stale, and you noticed a slight hint of what you thought was leather. But you didn’t have the time to think about how pleasant it was, or how you could still feel the ghost of his hand on yours. Staying as steady as you could manage, you made your shot, and though it was wonky you still managed to pocket it. A series of celebratory whoops escaped the boys at your shot, and you found yourself smiling half with relief, half with triumph. Riley went for a more tame reaction, and he rested his hand on your shoulder to give it a tight squeeze. 

“Nice shot,” he murmured. 

Heat rose in your face at his touch, and you tried to swallow the warmth back into your stomach as you tapped your cue against the tip of your shoe. "All thanks to you, Riley."

For a moment, he was silent as he leaned over the table for his turn where thick fingers guided his cue along the table. Pudgy skin and muscles forced his shirt to tighten along his shoulders, and you stood there speechless as he hit his shot. He easily pocketed yet another ball before he straightened back up and turned his attention to you. His dark eyes, the ones that had caught you sneaking glances at him all night long, gave you a quick once over before he tilted his head slightly. 

"It's just Simon to you, sweetheart."

The rest of the evening went just as well as it could have. You and Simon ended up winning the game, no thanks to you, and it wasn’t long after that everyone began to pack up to leave for the night. It was strange. That buzzing heat that ignited underneath your skin after Simon helped you with your technique didn’t seem to waver at all. It was still just as strong when he left as it was when it first began to burn. Kind. Maybe that’s what it was. His touch was gentle and kind, unlike the insidiousness Marco usually tainted you with when the two of you saw one another for your monthly meetings. 

“You feeling alright?” Row asked.

The gentle hum of the car had nearly lulled you to sleep in the passenger's seat, and you found yourself humming in confusion at your friend’s question. It didn’t take long for the words to eventually register in your mind, and you nodded as you leaned back against the seat as you looked at the passing view. It had gotten well past dark by the time you were ready to go home, and Row refused to let you take the bus back to your apartment, especially with how cold it got during autumn nights. 

“Yeah, sorry. Meeting new people just gets a little exhausting for me,” you explained, though it was only half the truth. 

“I know, my sweet little introvert,” she teased. “But you seemed to get along with them alright. I don’t see much of Kyle, but he’s sweet enough. And Johnny, well, he can be a bit much most of the time, but Riley’s a good man. He’s been working for John for about six years now.” 

“Yeah, they were all very friendly,” you concurred. “Though Kyle is a bit better at pool than Johnny tried to convince me he was.” 

Your comment got Row to laugh and you found it quite contagious. Though the two of you were close, it felt like it had been eons since the two of you really got any sort of alone time together, and that realization seemed to hang heavy in the air between the two of you. After a small stretch of silence, she leaned her head to the side but still kept her eyes on the road as the car came to a stoplight. 

“What are you doing Saturday night?” she then asked. 

“Working,” you replied simply.

“Per usual,” she muttered. “What time do you get off?”

“Midnight, if I’m lucky.”

“Wanna come to the Halloween party they’re putting on at John’s club?” 

Every cell in your body screamed at the very thought of stepping foot into that place. You had been there a few times before, and each time it was because Row had practically begged you to go with her, and you learned that clubs weren’t for you before you even entered one. Even then in that car you could smell the sour alcohol and sweat, along with the blistering heat of bodies much too close to your own. 

“I don’t know…” you started, unsure of what excuse to give her. 

“Awe, come on Chip,” Row whined. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a girls night with just the two of us. Really, it’s been forever since I’ve really gotten to see you at all. You’re worrying me a little with how much you’ve been working.” 

Worry. Of course she was worried, you had given her every right to be over the last few months. Work had all but consumed your life, and it wasn’t all that rare for you to pull all-nighters in the name of getting a few extra hours on your paycheck. The last time the two of you had seen one another you had mentioned wanting to get a part time job on top of your other job, and you swore you nearly gave her a heart attack. You hadn’t exactly done anything to ease her mind since, either. 

Sighing, you looked away from the window and over to your friend just as the light turned green and she sped off through the intersection. “Can you promise me we’ll be home by one?” 

“How about one thirty?” she countered. 

You dropped your head with a sigh but hid the slight smile on your face as you glanced out at the street. “Do you promise?” 

“You have my word,” she assured. “We can even sit in the VIP section where there’s less people and better booze.”

Even though her words weren’t particularly funny, the two of you still chuckled together as if it were some inside joke. And yet, despite the laughter, some sort of odd pit formed in your stomach that not even a deep breath could vanquish. Whatever warmth you had felt tingling under your skin minutes ago vanished the very moment Row admitted she was worried about you. 

Of course she had every right to be worried about you. She was your friend, your sister, and it only made sense that she noticed the odd changes in your habits and nature. But worry often brought a second feeling with it; the want to help. Perhaps her dragging you out to her husbands club was her own weird way of helping you, but you knew there were greater lengths she was willing to go if it meant ensuring your safety and happiness. Maybe you should have embraced it. Any real friend or family member would, but the last thing you needed was someone trying to help you again. 

You knew all too well what that brought.

taglist: @datlilwrench @xxkay15xx @cutelibrariangf @talooolaaloolla @stargirl411

[monstersighing]

Frankenstein monster x Fem!reader

Uhhh, this is actually kinda sweet, but also horny.

NSFW, 18+, Minor Do Not Interact

Frankenstein's Monster/Creature x Fem Reader

Title: Home

Content: penetrative sex, masturbation.

+++

You find him in the forest. A man, but strange. He’s tall and broad. Covered with scars and stitches on the parts of him you can see under his dirty hooded cape. There are birds surrounding him that he is feeding with a piece of hardened bread, so he doesn’t notice you at first. When he does, he flinches and pulls his hood down.

He is huge and tall and hooded, but you are not afraid.

You coax him towards you with soft words. Promises of food and shelter. And he follows you home.

+++

He is gentle despite his size and hardly speaks.

When you ask his name, he doesn’t reply, so you call him Francis, after a statue of the saint you once saw with birds on his shoulders and little creatures at his feet.

Francis pulls pails of water from the well and chops firewood with an energy and strength that makes something turn over in your stomach. Sometimes, you see him looking at you from under his hood. His eyes are two different colours, and both are beautiful.

When you tell him that, Francis shakes his head, unbelieving, but you think you see a smile.

The next day, he leaves his hood down.

+++

One night, sat together in the glow of the fire, you ask Francis where he came from, where he was born.

“I was not born. My father, he made me. Out of many men.”

He looks at you then, as if waiting for your disgust and rejection.

“So, you are a miracle of science, then. How wonderful,” you reply.

The surprise on his face makes it light up. You think you would give him a thousand compliments if he would just look like that more often.

+++

It has been a long dirty day of planting in the fields, so you boil pans of water over the fire, empty them in the tub and sink into the water.

You can hear the rhythmic sound of wood being chopped. You think of Francis’s grating rusty voice, his muscular shoulders. You imagine what those shoulders would feel like under your hands. What your legs would feel like wrapped around his waist.

You are rubbing yourself dry when the door creaks. You turn automatically, and see Francis at the door, hand clenched on the handle.

You don’t cover yourself, just let him gaze at your nakedness.

You hear the crumple of metal as the door handle cracks in Francis’s hand and he bolts.

You dress quickly and run outside, wet hair running rivulets down the back of your neck.

You find Francis in the barn, on his knees. His eyes are closed, and he is biting down on one hand as he fucks his straining cock into the fist of the other. You watch: the heaviness of his cock, his clenched eyelids, the desperate twitches of his hips. He comes quickly, and cum spurts and dribbles over his hand. When he removes the other from his mouth, you see the marks of teeth there.

You must make a noise because Francis opens his eyes then and sees you.

His reaction is instantaneous, a pulling up of trousers as he leaps to his feet and pushes past you and out of the barn door.

You shout after him as he runs towards the forest, but he does not stop or turn to look at you.

+++

Francis does not come back that evening.

In the morning you go looking for him.

He’s in the clearing in the forest where you first saw him.

“Come home,” you say. “Come home with me.” You do not know how to tell him, and you do not know how to ask, so you rise on your toes, and pull him down by his cloak so you can kiss him.

Frencis’s kiss is uncertain, but when you coax your tongue into his mouth you can taste the berries that he must have eaten.

It starts to rain, and you grab his hand to run through the forest and across the fields back home.

Once inside your home, you notice that his cape has kept him dry, but your clothes are soaked. Your nipples are cold and hard.

You strip to nakedness under Francis’s gaze and place his mismatched hands - one broader, with callouses, the other with long fingers - on your breasts.  He kneads at them roughly, and you watch him spread his legs to accommodate his filling cock.

You splay your legs and show him how to finger your already leaking cunt. His eyes flick from your wetness to your face, his two different coloured eyes hungry.

“The bed,” you say.

He ignores you and pushes you down to the floor.

He’s still clothed and your legs are spread wide. He looks like he wants to devour you. He pushes his trousers down and pulls off his shirt with a rip of seams. There’s a neatly stitched incision on his chest, in the shape of a Y.

Then he lines up his cock with your cunt and pushes deep inside you with a grunt. You cry out at the feeling of fullness and he begins to thrust into you, each ferocious push feeling deeper than the last.

Your legs lock as far as you can over his back, holding him deep and your hands roam his skin, touching the rough stitches that joint his arms to his shoulders. Proof that this man was made of many men. Now just one, who wants you, desperately. Who is showing you with each jolting push of his cock inside you.

His thrusts ruck up the rug beneath you, and you brace your arms against the floor. The resistance pushes him deeper into you. He comes with a howl: satisfied, animalistic. You feel his come, warm and sticky, flood into you.

He rears back then, and with his cock still seated inside you, Francis presses a finger around the stretched rim of your cunt and then inside, crooking up, hard. The impossible stretch makes your walls flutter, your thighs clench and your back arch with your orgasm.

Francis watches as his cock softens, and then slips out of your cunt, come leaking from your entrance. You sigh at the absence until he splays over you, a heavy comforting weight, and you sleep.

[oldermenlvrgrl]

Blue Swallow

On the road with Benny isn’t always a dream, especially being broke down on the side of the road in New Mexico.

Benny Cross x Reader fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, smoking, talk of marriage, talk of sex, anxiety, heated making out, of-13 touching.

A/n: I fear that my obsession with Benny isn't slowing

It was in the barren desert golden hour of New Mexico that Benny’s bike had finally choked. You heard the faint guzzle noise back in Arizona and his deep sigh. He hated stopping. Once Benny stopped, his high did and Benny always loved being high. It kept him sane. You clung onto his broad shoulders as he leaned forward for momentum. The heavy backpack with both his and your clothes weighed you down. The back of his golden hair curled at the nape of his neck was drenched with sweat. He wore a cutoff-sleeved leather jacket of the vandals colors. The sun beat him down as he drove. The sweat ran down his forehead into his eyes. The dry humid heat covers you both as a blanket.

He groans deep in his chest as the bike finally slows and he pulls over on the highway's shoulder. He hadn’t and neither did you see a car nor a bike on the highway for the past hour. The once great idea of traveling Route 66 in its completion seemed like a nightmare now.

He turned off the ignition and shifted to give you the key. You take it and put it into the backpack. It’s quiet and he doesn’t say a word, neither do you. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his vest and plucks one out to smoke. The smoke swirls around his head like a halo. His agitation calms into an anxious hum. He stays silent and smokes his cigarette for a while until it burns to the end. He takes another and starts to burn that one. He runs one of his hands through his hair to push back the fallen strands on his forehead.

Your hand falls off his shoulder and your fingers lightly trace over his tattoo. Planting your sweaty forehead on his back you breathe heavily. Throat hoarse from dehydration. Your mind was strangely calm at the inconvenience.

Nighttime would happen as you walked to the nearest city and Benny would rather die than leave his bike on the side of the highway. So with a heavy heart, he gets off the bike. He places his hand on the small of your back and the other takes your hand as he helps you off the bike. The cigarette dangling between his lips. His blue eyes look wild with the amount of blue in them. He pauses, his hip pushed out with one of his hands on his waist as he points forward.

“Town should be only a couple miles, keep close and don’t leave my sight.”

You nod softly at his command. He’s paranoid about going into the unfamiliar town with his bike not working and then with you. Ever since Benny met you he vowed to keep you safe from the world. You didn’t belong in such a demented world. Sometimes it was unbearable, he wouldn’t let you talk to some members of the club. When attending meetings or parties he made you sit by him or wouldn’t let you be too far away where he couldn’t touch you. He was being generous when he said to not be out of sight. That was just how Benny was.

Shuffling your feet begrudgingly you slowly trailed in front of Benny as he pushed the bike up the road. His hair fell over and stuck to his face. The veins in his arms stretched as he shoved the thousand-pound piece of metal.

Only a few minutes ago you were walking behind, you had stuck your thumb out to hitchhike, thinking it’d help. When he saw what you were doing in his mirrors, he turned around in a fever, almost dropping the bike. He stomped his way to stand in front of you sternly scolding you to keep your hands down. His face flushed red as he kept his anger to a minimum, his agitation heaved. The veins in his temples and throat throbbed with the rush of adrenaline. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if somebody picked you up and he wasn’t there.

Attempting to play Eye Spy, and numerous other games to keep your mind occupied. Benny was a lousy sport and didn’t want to play. You tried jokes that Johnny told you to lighten the mood and it made his mouth fall open with his cheeks and ears tinted pink. He’d never heard anything dirty come out of your mouth and now you were talking about naked hookers playing pool in bars.

You pointed excitedly at the small town ahead. Pointing and jumping with a wide smile. You put the backpack down onto the dirt, digging through the mountain of clothes and grabbing the paper pamphlet you’d grabbed at the last gas station about New Mexico. Enthusiastically pointing at the Blue Swallow motel and ranting about it to Benny. Once he finally caught up with where you were jumping. He kicked the bike stand out, grabbing both sides of your warm skin and pressing his lips onto yours.

Benny just prayed that his bike wouldn’t get stolen while he slept. He parked it right outside one of the motel room’s windows. He didn’t care if somebody was already renting out that room. That hunk of metal wouldn’t be moving until tomorrow morning.

The blue neon light of the swallows covered everything in its glow. He, unfortunately, looked like a wannabe blue fairy with his golden hair and pink cheeks, which you giggled at, remarking the thought to him which he embarrassingly retorted to not call him that. When you continued to explain why, pointing to his hair and cheeks. He looked around to see if anyone heard the conversation, grabbed your biceps, took you behind a wall, and almost didn’t have the heart to explain to you what it meant when someone called a guy a fairy. He looked into your eyes as they dimmed and he hated himself for tarnishing the concept of a fairy for you. He frowned and kissed your forehead when you began to profusely apologize. He whispered that you can call him the name when in private and it made you smile. He held your hand as he walked you back to where you first called him a fairy.

He opened the glass door for you and watched your little daisy dukes move in front of him. He almost sobbed as he felt the cold refrigerated air circulate around him. The scattered little fans worked as little pistons that propelled the cold air everywhere. The woman behind the front counter was older. She had long blonde hair and gaudy makeup caked onto her face. She read a Cosmopolitan magazine in one hand about American bikers. Disconnected with the world. You were wandering around the lobby looking at all the pretty shiny souvenirs.

“One room.”

She didn’t look up from her magazine and Benny thought about robbing the place.

“$100.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, fishing out his wallet from his front pocket. He looked over to where you were, checking to see if you were still looking at postcards. The woman looked up through her big fake lashes and closed the magazine.

“I haven't seen any bikers around before, are you new?”

His eyebrows furrowed. He shrugged, he didn't really care to make small talk and all he wanted was his room and a Marlboro.

“Passing through.”

He mumbled. The woman grinned, reaching over the counter and touching his hand, pushing her breasts out as she leaned. He looked to the ceiling and gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching.

“You should pass through my room.”

She said softly and he shook his head.

“You don't get it, I'm with my-”

“Your sister?”

His mouth fell open, his cheeks rosy with shock. There was an age gap between you and him but he didn't think people would think of it like that.

“I'm sure she wouldn't mind.”

He feels your small hands wrap around his arm, feels the tug down as you yank him down kissing him quickly.

“I love this place, Benny!”

Some sick twisted part of him finds the reaction to the hostess humorous. Her eyes widen with fear and her mouth opens in horror. She finds a key and throws it at his chest, he catches it before it falls.

“I love it too honey.”

He whispers, kissing the top of your head before holding your hand and leading you out of the lobby. The key fob had the number 13 on it but he went to the door with a 7.

You questioned him why he was opening the wrong door and he shrugged saying that all the locks were the same and it was just an illusion of choice. It was dark except for the neon signs and street lights glowing in the room. You thanked God that nobody's stuff was already in there.

As he steps inside he immediately takes off his boots and colors. He shuts the door and locks it behind you, taking the straps of the backpack off of your shoulders and putting the bag on the chair in front of the vanity. The absence of the weight makes you sigh happily. He leans down and presses a kiss on your cheek with a small squeeze of a chaste hug.

He leaves his jeans and his muscle shirt on and props open the small window above the bed. He smiles as he sees his bike outside. Taking the pack of cigarettes out he places one between his lips and sparks it alive. Leaning over he turns the knob on the small tv to some western movie that plays. The sound is barely above a whisper. It's the only bright light in the room.

He can't see you as you shed your dukes and shirt, changing into a pair of his boxer shorts and one of his tattered shirts. Half of his face is shone by the light of the tv. The cowboys and Indians yell on the screen. The smoke swirls around his head and out the window. He lazily holds his head up against the wall. His chin jutted out to you. His lanky body half slumped on the bed and the wall. There's a no smoking sign above his shoulder. His muscle shirt is raised above the belt of his jeans showing the soft tanned curve of his abdomen and the patch of hair connecting his belly button to below his waist. His strong jaw stuck out to the side as he blew the smoke out the side of his thick lips. His eyes half closed as he fights sleep.

Watching eagerly as you come to the edge of the bed where his feet hang. He's always loved seeing you in his clothes. Something primal and proud swarms in his chest. He spreads his long legs a little wider and you step between them. Your knees hit the soft mattress as you crawl into his lap. Your thighs on both sides of his waist. As you lower your hips to his lap you feel the denim rub against the soft skin of your inner thighs. His boxers riding up around your waist.

He reaches out the cracked window pane and taps the ash off the cigarette. Lifting his hips up, you feel his belt buckle brush against the hidden nerves between your thighs. He presses his heated lips against the skin under your jaw. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as his kisses further. Your fingers running up and into his thick hair. Scratching at his scalp he moans into your cheek. He presses his lips on your neck. Taking a swift last drag of his cigarette, he flicks it to the pavement outside. His hands go underneath (his) your shirt. Flattening his palms on your back, along your spine as he runs them along the width of your torso. His tongue pokes out and leaves a trail of saliva as he continues down your collar. The cold air tries its best to keep it cold but the warmth of feverish bodies keeps it humid.

He removes his lips from your neck and leans his head back. His chest moving rapidly, his eyes are lazy as he looks at you through his lashes. Each heart beating like a horse running. He squeezes the fat of your waist, pulling you closer to him so you're chest to chest. You smell the cigarettes on his breath.

“I love you.”

He mumbles against your cheek. You whisper the proclamation back.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, before deepening it. He takes his hands out from under your shirt and wraps his thick arms around your back squeezing you to him. Your mouth parts and his tongue licks across your own. You whimper something awful and his stomach churns and the lap of his jeans grow tight. He picks you up, shifts you to lie on your back, and slots himself between your spread legs. You can feel how much he wants you. It scares you how heavy it feels between your legs. His kisses slow as he breathes quickly. Yours matching his own.

Kiss swollen lips and a love-bitten neck. He tells himself that tonight isn't the right night for him to finally have you completely, so he shifts his body and lies behind you. Shoving his nose into your neck and kissing your shoulder. His strong arms wrapping around your ribs and holding you close. He kicks up the blanket around your hips. He's not cold, he's never cold when you're around but he knows that you do. He drifts off the sleep listening to your soft breaths, thinking about having to deal with the hostess to call an auto shop and dreaming of marrying you at the end of Route 66.