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pricetagged · 2 months ago

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fool's gold (pyrite)

Got inspired by gougie's executioner asks and cloth's egging hehe 💖 have some pirate au simon breeding kink~

Content: 18+; breeding kink; dubious consent*; mean Simon; pirates; captured-by-the-crown reader; barest implication of potential soap/reader and future ghoap/reader; POV shift

*in a 'get out of jail' way, so take that how you will.

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It fluttered in your stomach. A nebulous, squirming little thing.

Not the baby, no. The lie.

You felt it, restless and hot. Kicking your ribs from the inside. It made you flushed, it made you sick-

It bought you at least another few weeks to slip the noose, to slide away in borrowed shoes meant to dance a gallows' jig. Maybe it would buy you more, if the stress held back your monthly the way it often did on the ship. Great, long stretches of time with too much work and not enough food.

You wore the lie like you wore your borrowed clothes, a too-tight bodice and heavy skirts. Impractical, sweet. Modest. A poor little dear caught up and brought low. Fallen woman, sunken to the depths before the law fished her out.

Your thighs stuck together, warm and bare under the skirts. It was sweltering, damp. Clammy in the cell with its stagnant air and earthy, unfinished floors. The wood of your bench –and bedcot–was warped with age, woodlouse burrowed deep into the pulpy grooves. It was enough to make you shudder, sweat dripping down your spine until it soaked into the cotton of your shift.

It did little to cool you.

Nine months aboard The Watcher had spoiled you, coarse rope and sharp, sea air warping you into something new. Something wilder. It was hardtack and hard work, yes. But it was freedom. To toil under a flag of your choosing, to trust the waves and the Captain to take you to new ports and newer treasures–

You'd left your papa's place with little more than ill-fitting breeches and a pocketed purse. You'd passed the scars on your hands and the patches on your shirt as evidence of experience – hardy little stowaway, aren't ye–. The morals didn't bother you the way stolen scraps didn't bother a dog. Street rat or ship rat; at least this way you could put miles between you and your father. Nautical miles, bobbing away with the wood of the ship's log. You watched it often, knots of rope and grains of sand. Hourglass and paper in hand while you stood on the stern.

It was you who first spotted the English Man O'War, sluicing through waves with colours hoisted high. Three gun-decks, at least, and coming into port.

"–plead the belly–it'll spare ye the choppin' block. Might even get lucky and be sent t' the reformatory– ah heard they do that f'r expectant mothers–" you couldn't quite hear him over the ringing of the cannons and the ringing in your ears. "–plead the belly, and I'll try tae come back for y–"

They echoed now in your sweltering cell, suspended in the humidity. The boatswain's last words before he was violently wrestled away.

You remembered him as you counted the bars of your cage. Iron-wrought and cruel. As cruel as the chain tethering you to the wall, cold metal biting into your bare ankle.

'–I've got the keys, girlie, if you want freein' from it. Don' have to sit against that wall, all shy. C'mere an' I'll make you a deal–'

You stayed silent, stone-faced. Weathered the taunts and jeers of your gaolers like a battered old rock. The guards took it as arrogance, the other prisoners took it as invite.

The priest took it as shame.

You let them all believe it, lips pressed tight lest you let loose sobs–giggles–something– as days passed and your sentencing drew closer.

You'd heard about him before you saw him. The Ghost. The last face you'd see before facing the faceless. The pitch-black eyes that would watch as you jigged to the jeers of the crowd.

It was the last face you'd see and it was only a mask. More macabre than the usual executioner's hood– a skull motif, bleach-white bones and empty sockets. A nasty minikin mockery of the reaper. It was gristly; it was sick.

But so was he.

A butcher, some said. Fingers caked in blood no matter to which job he attended. A pirate, according to others. One pressed into service, earning his freedom by sending others to the pits.

And now you heard him for real.

The low, resonant whistle. The heavy tread of his boots.

It had you curling your fingers into your palms, nautical superstitions and fishwives' tales nipping at you like fleas.

–quit yer whistlin', you'll anger the winds and summon a storm–

–it's good luck, don't worry. It'll make the winds blow strong and steady, you'll see–

–I wouldn't do that if I were you. Cap'n'll think it's code between mutineers–

–taboo–

The whistling stopped, a cheery solitary note wavering in the air before silence. Even the gaoler's dog had scarpered off, keys jingling around its neck until you couldn't even hear the echo.

A gravel-rough voice cut through the swirling tempest of your mind.

"Was told 'got a pregnant little birdie caught in the cage."

That pulled you from your reverie, neck-stiff as you turned towards the voice. It was more of a twitch than a conscious motion, a sudden flaring of deadened synapses as his voice rasped over them. Still, you didn't speak. Didn't even look at him fully, the hulking thing in your peripheral.

It was silent, now. Eerily so, like all the air had been sucked from the prison. Sitting in the eye of the storm, too calm and too quiet. You could hear the drag of his boots as he shifted closer. The rolling clank of iron scraping against itself, your cage creaking open.

The shadow in your peripheral became mass, then man as he stepped closer.

You risked a glance up.

He'd still be large, sturdy, even without you curled up on your dank, spongy bedcot. Tall enough to duck as he sauntered into the cell. Broad enough to block out the flickering oil lamps by the warden's desk. In the lambent glow of dusk it was already dim, hazy with sea-spray and the oppressive heat of wet season. But with him in front of you it was pitch-dark. A pall cast by his sheer size, all light swallowed up until you could just about make out his blurry edges.

The ghostly white of the bones bleached onto his mask moved and his voice rumbled out.

"Well, g'nna show me?"

You stretched out weakened muscles, unfurling as slow as a wind-battered sail. Joints creaked alongside the iron of your shackle, tight from where you'd clenched hard. Dug your blunt little fingernails into the pulpy, malleable fibers of the aged ironwood below you.

Standing was like finding yourself unmoored, sliding off the buoyant driftwood keeping you afloat. Your legs got tangled up in your borrowed clothes, damp petticoats and overskirts clinging as your feet finally touched the straw-strewn earth of the cell floor. It was cumbersome, made more difficult by the sliding of the heavy chain against the bench. You felt the weight around your ankle, anchoring you down.

Though you could barely see it, you felt as he studied you from top-to-toe. Flat, dead eyes followed every curve and dip of your body as you stood before him, your traitorous chest rising and falling in a way that made you grit your teeth. You used that force to steel your jaw, to look straight ahead and keep your arms lax and loose by your side.

Let him look his fill. Let him– your judge, jury and executioner.

He hummed. Circled you like a shark in a balmy waters. It was funny– you'd never felt more exposed than now in all your layers. Not even under the punishing sun in your loose, men's clothes. No, his eyes stripped you bare. More than cotton and linens, he peeled the flesh from bone. Flayed you open, eyes slicing through your skittish guise. Through your rabbity gaze hopping around the walls, the way you tried to arch your back and poke out more of your soft belly.

"You a liar, then?" You could hear the low, mocking note in his voice. "Or got a case of wishful thinkin'?"

That had you looking up, meeting him dead in the eye. Your hands hovered above the slight swell of your stomach, fingers twitching in an abortive gesture–

–you wanted to cradle it, the fluttering in your empty belly. Push down the sick, swirling terror and face the ghost you'd summoned, because you had summoned it–

He grabbed by your wrist, meaty paw pulling you close enough to brush against his expansive chest.

–Hadn't you? Bad luck. Malefic omen, having you on the ship. No prophets, no redheads–

There, in the cradle of his arms, you were frozen. Your wrist felt fragile, bird-like under the firm grip of his thick-knuckled fingers. You weren't weak, you'd rigged topsails in tempest winds with those wrists. But that was then. That was weeks ago, when you were part of a crew on the open seas. Here, it was just you and the beast that had sent stronger than you to their graves. The warnings from persnickety old seadogs tolled death knolls in your mind–

–no women. And now the sea had swallowed you up. Sent you down to the belly of the beast. A Jonah, locked behind something stronger than whalebone. Trapped. Unless–

Wishful thinking.

He chucked at your chin, calloused fingertips arching your head further back until your neck strained. Your heartbeat rushed past your ears, sending your head spinning. Dizzy, docile. An artificial calm; buoyant lifeline in the raging currents. He turned you slightly, left then right. Like he was measuring you up, the line of your throat. The fluttering of your pulse. That treacherous throbbing, sending oxygen to your brain that you were too erethic to feel.

He spoke again, rough and coruscating. You noticed that he didn't blink, just stared down at you. Dead-eyed as a fish, blond lashes spiked around dark irises. He kept you arched, unable to escape as every syllable struck you like a storm. You balanced on bare tip-toes, butterfly-soft fingers spread across his hairy forearm.

"The Beak's happy to let ya swing if it means 'e can catch the rest of y'r crewmates. And, 'round here, the only good pirate is a dead pirate," he must have felt how your fingers tightened, a futile brace against his butal strength and harsh words. "So, I tell him y'r a liar, get paid to do my job, and keep the governor happy."

He shrugged, bulky shoulders popping as he rolled them back. He shrugged like it meant nothing to him, just a matter of fact. The fisherman, fingers deep in guts and gristle. The butcher, hands stained copper and hardened on cannon bone. The executioner, calloused from rope neckties and the deadweight of the condemned–

But you catch the way his eyes follow your flinch. The way his lips move under his mask too as your mouth opens and closes. Hesitant. Dry.

You could only look up at him with wide, naïve eyes, dilating in the dark. The jejune jailbird. Doe-eyed. Caught.

The jig was up.

"Please," the words stuck in your throat, cracking and broken. "Please don't–"

He lets you go. Not a gentle action, no. No careful caress; he lowers you abruptly, chuckles as you scramble to face him. Stunned, you rub at your throat. Still there, still unadorned with the necklace of rope you swear he wants to place there. Coarse twine and hessian brown, constricting tighter until– no. You can't think on it, anathema to the lie you've worked hard to maintain. If he doesn't believe the plea of the belly, you'll– you'll–

You'll make it so.

As he settles his massive frame on the thin, wooden slat against the wall you wonder. Why did he come here in cover of night. Why did he need to see for himself what the priest confirmed as a priori truth? The seal of confession melts away, your moribund admittance flakes and crumbles under his heavy hand. He knows.

Solid legs spread wide, he makes himself comfortable. You follow the bulge of his thighs, easily as thick as your skull–more–, as the bench groans and creaks worse than the brig in a storm.

You worry that it can't handle the weight.

Even sitting, he dwarfs you. Stepping up between his thighs is like willingly stepping off the stern into still waters. It's terrifying, thrilling– your belly swoops and head feels light. You know there must be something lurking in the depths, some undulating hydra ready to slide its malignant limbs around your ankle and wrench you down–

He clamps a filthy boot down over the length of chain across the floor. Keeps you tethered to him, unable to pull back even if you wanted to.

"Clever enough t'come up with the scheme, clever enough t'get out of it." It's an offering, albeit a twisted one. Alms tainted by the greedy slap of his palms against his thighs. Rough, scarred hands frame the growing bulge between his legs.

Even in the dark, you see it. Heavy, perverse, Fattening enough to strain against the seam of his trousers. You can't look away, can't escape the muggy heat in the air and the scorching burn of his eyes on you. Incendiary, it sends heat pooling to your own belly. The damp, stickiness between your thighs seems cool now, sweat superseded by the slick gathering in your core. It's filthy, it's wrong–

It's blazing hot, shame seared away by a want that is not entirely born of desperation.

At first you think it's a tit-for-tat, your mouth stuffed full in exchange for his staying closed. Kneeling before him, you're suddenly grateful for your skirts. Matchsticks of dried straw and dusty smithereens dig into your knees, legs bent awkwardly as he keeps his boot on your chain. He's content to let you paw at him, to tug at the drawstrings and fumble with his waistband as he offers no help.

Eventually, he must grow bored.

"Don' need me to tell ya that's not how it works."

"What–?" He has you frozen, tableau vivant of a wanton grisette. Pupils-blown and lips-parted, you tremble up at him. Try to read the desire that he hides beneath harsh words and heavy breaths.

"Tryin' t'make me a liar, too?" He grunts, brushing aside your confused, hurried protestations. "Gonna make me a liar when I go out'nd tell them there really is a pregnant little birdie caught in the cage?"

He pats at his lap, palming at himself and hissing through his teeth. Sound is muffled by that grotesque mask, but you catch it all the same. Every flash of the man beneath– of the desire wrought by your artless, ingenue fumblings– sends you reeling. You are not a creature of flesh and blood, not when both are fever-hot and itching. You can't breathe in your body under sweltering layers and sultry air. And he can sense it, too. The beast you let into your cage, bars bending as easily as your will to his.

And, through messily-tugged drawstrings, you see it. Tugged through the opening you'd hastily torn open. The thick, ruddy head of his cock is already leaking.

And as you slide into his lap, it all slides into place.

You think of– no, not now. You can't think of him now. When he comes back for you, if it takes, you could pass the baby off as his. He was sweet on you, you know it. A breezy, comfortable kind of affection. Small, just barely burgeoning but still there. He's a good man– You'll claim that you were telling the truth at your capture– that you and he already– He's a decent man– maybe you wouldn't even have to lie. He'd take you in, little stray and the seed that kept her off the scaffold–

Thoughts slip away, sea spray in the wind, as you work yourself open in his lap. You're drenched beneath your skirts, slick running down your thighs and into his. You're spread so wide across him that it burns, pinned open by his bulk. You can feel the power of his frame, coiled muscle holding you up from the worn wooden bench. The soft pudge of his belly presses into yours as you lean forward, shakily lining up with the swollen head of his cock.

It's already weeping, thick globs of his slick mingle with yours as he slides between your folds. Like he can't wait to be inside you, leaking his spend at the barest touch of your cunt. Like he can't wait to put it inside you, to make good on his word and yours and put a baby there.

You shiver, biting back a gasp as he nudges the aching pearl at the apex of your thighs. His chuckle rumbles through his hulking chest into yours. It jostles you, hitching you just right over his length until it notches against you. You press down, hole clenching against the initial pain, until you feel the throb of his slit inside. It's deep, sending your back arching as you grip his shoulders with white knuckles. And there's still more–

"Tha's it, tha's it, birdie," his voice is impossibly thicker, desire dragging it down until he growls at you. "Gonna have t'take more, gotta make it all fit if you want this baby–"

"Yes, yes, please," you babble at him. Voice high, whines catching on every breath you work yourself lower. You can feel him in your stomach, every inch sending sparks dancing along your spine until they're all you can see when you close your eyes. The sparks, and the spectral imprint of his ghostly mask.

He grunts below you, swallowing back groans behind a jaw that you know is clenched tight. Avaricious brute, he needs you closer. Hands that were meant to measure you for the drop dig into your hips, working you lower and lower. He forces you down to the root, bare thighs on hessian cloth, until you cry out. Shaking at the spread– the stretch– you pant in his ear. Hot little breaths, heady against the crook of his neck.

You can hear it, the obscene squelch of your greedy cunt. The creaking of the bench beneath you as you ride him with shaking legs, chasing pleasure that's already beginning to pool in your belly. You feel heavy with it, moaning behind your clenched fist. Through bleary eyes you catch his, cimmerian and heavy-lidded. His head is thrown back against the wall, guttural filth spilling as he waits for you to come undone.

"Want it, don't ya? Want my baby so fuckin' bad, just look at ya," he growls it, frothing with a hunger so biting it reads as rage. "I'll put one in ya, keep you stuffed full. Keep this chain around y'r ankle, too, keep you shackled to me–"

Eyes-watering as you lose yourself in it. In the sounds that that send blood rushing to your head, the deep ache in your core, the desperation– make him come, make him come, want to come, need to come–

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At first, he was happy to watch you. To sit back and watch you work yourself up, to perform for him until he sees you drop the mask. You wear the mantle of captive soubrette so well, sweat-damp petticoats clinging to curves that he wants to trace with his tongue. With his teeth. He saw the craft in your sweet, open face. You're a flighty thing, aren't you? Trying to slip the noose and slip past him. Luckily his grasp is strong.

He saw the scheme slip away as he got you speared open on his length. He can see it in your eyes, feels the way you suck him in–. You're dripping down into his breeches, sloppy and squeezing him so tight. Desperate, wanton little naiad. Riding hard like your life depends on it. He huffs out a laugh as he squeezes you tight, rough fingers digging into peach-soft flesh.

He doesn't tell you that you're already free, that the Royal Navy is already in hot pursuit of The Watcher and the pregnant, little skivvy is of as much importance to them as the ship's rats. No, you're a nuisance they're willing to hand off to him. Too big, too blunt, too bloody to find a respectable wife.

(There was a time, once, when he had no need of such comforts. Lieutenant aboard The Larimar's Revenge, he'd docked in many-a-port. But he'd always come back to those blue eyes. The haircut that had even the natives of Port Royal looking twice– Cheeky, cocksure pirate.

He'd thought about him, sometimes. On that godforsaken island with just a pistol and one shot for company. 'Mutineer', he was branded. Traitor to King and Crown. Lower than scum, not worth even a keelhaul. But not even grapeshot can kill a ghost–)

He feels you reaching your end, thighs trembling from more than just exertion. His mask is damp, sultry air mixing with your musk into something that scatters his desultory thoughts. His belly tightens as he feels you clamping down, whining behind the knuckles you’ve got stuffed between your teeth.

When you're home, together in his bed, he'll bite down on those knuckles. Show you what real toothprints look like. Or maybe he'll let you slip his hand into your mouth instead. Let you whet your blunt little teeth on something with more gristle. His appetite for you cannot be satiated on mere flesh. He's got to pierce you, taste you, feel you from the inside and leave a part of himself there–

For now, he holds you down. Forces you to ride out the wave of pleasure-pain as he sets his own pace. Your thighs tremble, whole body seizing around him. He can feel the fluttering in your cunt, the way you shudder and drip until his cock is soaked and his coarse hair turns sticky with your release.

He ignores your whisper of another man's name– John, or Johnny, it's hard to catch with the way you swallow your whimper–it doesn’t matter. Not when he's the one pumping you full of his spend. His belly clenches hard, balls tight and heavy with the come he's going to give you. Going to force it in, plant his baby in you and still leave thick, white, globs leaking out of your poor, abused hole.

He's filled you up, is going to fill you up again. He'll take you back to his house and do it as many times as he wants. Make you grateful for it, for saving your life and giving you the baby you’ve been begging for. Keep you stuffed so full of him that the only name he'll hear from you is 'Simon'.

(And if you help lure Johnny back, well. It's been a long time, but good dogs come home when called.)

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Well, there is it. Shoutout to my beloved stelle and woolie for listening to me whine about pirate ship names 💖💖💖

#mates have a whole backstory for this and many thoughts but lets stick to 4k #if its riddled with errors and switches dont tell me haha im soooo tired #how come all my simon work is either TRAUMA ROMANCE or GHOAP (or all three)#báirseach writes #ghost #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley/reader #simon riley x reader #ghoap/reader #ghoap x reader #simon riley/reader/john mactavish #cw dubcon #cod fanfic #cod x reader

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elysianightsss · 1 year ago

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Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

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cyber333angel · 8 months ago

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LUMBERJACK!LOGAN X FARMERSDAUGHTER!READER

the two of you would have met for the first time at your fathers house, logan introducing himself as a the new supplier for wood at your families barn. your dad was too busy to go out and buy wood so on a stroll through town he heard about a newcomer being good at exactly that. he shook your hand and he smiled at you, the most charming smile you have ever seen and you introduced yourself shyly as well. you were a little nervous for some reason, probably because you don’t see a lot of people living in the countryside especially handsome ones like this. you go off doing something else and after a couple more minutes of conversation your father calls you back to him and logan, telling you that you needed to show him around and tell him where to drop off the wood when it’s time for deliveries. smiling through your anxiety, you go up to him, “this way mr. howlett, uh this is the-“ and your cut off suddenly, “you can call me logan. no need for the formality.” and you nod, him dropping the professionalism made you feel a little more at ease. “oh alright logan, this way here is the horses stables.” chuckling at your insinuation of his name he watches you as you walk in front of him, white dress swaying side to side as you go farther throughout the land. the whole get-up looks gorgeous on you from head to toe, your little cowgirl hat that covers your braided plaits, the snug dress that hugs your curves and the brown cowboy shows to complete. from this first meeting he knew it was gonna be hard to work for your father, already looking at his daughter this way.

after a few weeks go by your aquatinted with logan, not exactly friends but you had small conversations everytime he came by. watching him as he loaded logs of wood into this shed looking handsome as ever working out like that, your little schoolgirl crush getting bigger at every sneaking glance you took. and one day your father had some business to attend to out of town leaving you alone, telling you to handle all deliveries and duties around the barn without him. so you spend all day taking over the work your dad usually does when you get a call, your dad telling you that logan would be coming in with a late delivery and to help him unload his truck. you were gonna be alone with logan, in your house that was empty, your mind was filled with thoughts but you quickly shooed them away. which was best because logan arrived at the gates thirty minutes later pulling into the driveway with a wave and the same charming smile as always, stepping out of the car in some red flannel and jeans. “hey kid, I see your stepping up to your old man’s jobs now huh?” he says chuckling and you smile walking to the back of his trunk, “yeah for today, ill leave it to you guys to carry pounds of wood every friday afternoon. splinters are not really my forte.” and logan grins, for the past couple of weeks of seeing glances of you during deliveries you weren’t doing manual labor like your father, mostly tending to the garden and taking care of the animals and he thought that naturalistic side of you was absolutely adorable.

you guys make usual small talk while hauling the logs of wood to the shed, dusting your hands. you get an idea to invite logan in after all this hard work, it’s only fair after all the heavy lifting and you both could use something to rejuvenate you. “um if your not busy after this would you want something to drink or eat before you hit the road?” you say, your anxiety creeping up a bit after doing something your not used to like inviting a someone into your home, one you have a crush on at that. logan nods rolling up his sleeves, “yeah thanks I would love a drink.” he says and you lead the way to the house, setting down at the kitchen. “umm we have some soda, water or juice? food wise we have leftovers from dinner yesterday, we could also make a sandwich or have the snacks in the pantry.” none of those really suite logans interest which makes him ask, “you got any beer?” and you think, remembering your dad keeps beer at the lowest part of the fridge, you grab one for him and you, going back and sitting at the island. “thanks kid.” making you smile with a quiet “no problem.” you watch logan crack open the beer with his teeth looking like he did this a million times before and you twist open the bottle with your hand, opting out on breaking your teeth.

the silence between you was very awkward as you trail your eyes at everything around you except logan, suddenly hearing him speak. “you don’t drink?” you look at him confused, his eyes pointing to the beer bottle that only has a sip taken from it. “no not really, it’s more for my dad. the taste is kind bitter to me, but i couldn’t let you drink alone!” you say with a giggle making logan smile as he takes another long swig at his drink. “well thanks for sticking around anyway. i also gotta ask how is it living on a barn miles away from civilization?” logan says poking fun at you once again, “it’s not that far, and it’s nice. very peaceful..although it’s too peaceful sometimes, there’s not many people to talk too out here other than when we go to sell crops.” he thinks for a moment, looking lost in thought as he comes up with a question that almost make you cough out loud. “so I take it that you don’t talk to many boys then huh?”the snarky question making you stare at him in awe, stuttering out an answer. “I have before if you must know, it didn’t go anywhere because he moved away.. but you already know I don’t talk to a lot of people which is s’kind of embarrassing, not having a relationship or a first kiss.. you probably have experienced all that already.” you say the relationship and kiss part quietly, not knowing why you said that in the first place thinking that sip of beer earlier had you out of sorts already.

the news of you not having any relationship was quite surprising to logan, you are such a pretty girl he thought guys would be lining up to date you. “it’s not embarrassing so don’t worry your head about that and sure I’ve had my share of..relationships but it’s nothing special as people make it out to be. if you want I can even help you with your little problem.” he hears himself get carried away with that last sentence, the damage being undoable as you try to think of he really said that. the older man that works for your father, really just said that? “really? you would kiss me?” of course he would kiss you, it’s taking a lot from him to not pounce on you right then and there. and logan just nods, scooting his chair back so you have space to sit. “yeah, come sit. it’s just a kiss.” he says patting at his lap with the beer bottle still in his hand, you hesitate but climb onto the seat making yourself comfortable on his legs. placing one of your arms around his neck for balance, waiting for his next move. “calm down bub your hearts practically beating out your chest.” he says chuckling and you just softly smile, embarrassed he can hear how nervous you are. “ready? don’t be so nervous, y’re okay, doing just fine already baby.” he says that as if that could make you any calmer, sliding his hand on your waist to make you come closer. you’re breathing so hard you could hear the breaths, closing your eyes trying to copy what the girls do in the romance movies you used to watch, and you feel your lips touch his. soft with a faint smell of beer, a very gentle kiss with his rough hand holding the side of your jaw.

you think to yourself how much more you crave from him, not only wanting his lips but it’s too late. he pulls away from the kiss to see you, looking around in your eyes to see if he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it a little more than he should have. “lemme have a look at ya, how was it bub? hmm, was it good?” you chew the inside of your mouth staring at him, your chest heaving up and down as you try to come up with a way to ask for more. “it was great..” you say dropping your head to his chest, “would you be mad if I wanted t’do it again?” you say quietly, waiting for a response only hoping he wants it as bad as you, and he does, he wants even more than what your thinking of. your jaw is picked up by his hands as logan rests it on your cheek, looking at you so softly. “kid i could would never be mad at you, especially about something like that c’mere.” he says smiling into the kiss, this time going in deeper, sucking on your lips as if he wanted to eat you. beneath you, you feel something hard rising against your heat, pushing through logans jeans and up into your dress. you rub your thighs together trying to relief yourself from the throbbing sensation in your cunt from all this kissing but it doesn’t work, all your commotion alerting logan. “what happened down here bub?” he says rubbing his hand up and down your thighs, getting needier by the minute ypu snap and take logans hand, spreading your legs open and holding it in between your legs. “I need you to touch me lo..” you whine, a newfound nickname you gave him, probably resulting from how needy you were. this was all you needed to say to set him off, the position you were sat in, the pleading eyes and that goddamn sentence just now. he lifts you up wrapping your legs around his waist as he basically ravishes at your lips, growling at you through the kiss walking out the kitchen. “where’s your room?” he says looking like he’s on a mission and your bust out in giggles pointing him up the stairs to your room. you get you your bedroom and logan places you on the bed, you watch him as he takes off his shirt, still kissing you and traveling down all over your body. sucking and biting at your lips he spreads your legs in front of him, grabbing your underwear from underneath your dress and sliding it down your legs making you shiver. “I have to stretch you out a bit alright bub? come sit here.” he says motioning to you for the spot in between his legs, doing as your told you make yourself comfortable, not ever having done this before you let logan guide the way. he rests his hand on your waist, sitting behind you kissing your neck as his other hand travels down your pussy, his rough fingers coated in your slick just from the slight touch. “you really needed my help huh needy girl..” he says whispering, taking two fingers and spreading apart your folds looking at how wet you were. he pushes two digits in and you wince, his thick fingers already feeling so good you can’t even imagine how it would feel when he actually fucks you.

logan keeps thrusts his fingers in and out your cunt as you squirm around in his lap, stimulation sending you over the edge especially with the sweet whispers logan says in your ear. “atta girl, your swallowing up my fingers good bub..” praising you as you whine in his lap grabbing at his neck behind you, “s’enough now logan.. gon-gonna cum!” you say with a sob, you could feel how deep his fingers were stretching you, you could feel his thumb circling around your clit and you could only take so much. “good girl cum on my fingers..” and you do just that, coating his two digits with your mess, leaving a white ring at the base of his fingers. he has you out of breath, your head resting on his chest as you come down from the intensity. logan keeps you close to him, swaying a little back and forth letting you collect yourself, planting kisses on your neck as he slowly removes your white dress. taking the straps off and unzipping it, “up.” he says, wanting you to lift your arms and you do tiredly, you get up from his lap and lay down on your bed staring at logan. you watch as he unbuckles his pants, a bulge prodding and stretching the fabric of his boxers. “we’re gonna take it slow alright, if we go too fast you’ll get hurt so let me take care of you baby..” he’s says to you but you can barely hear, focused on his dick that is now out of his boxers standing tall, wondering if you were too confident and if you can even take all of him. he moves both your legs to be spread out on sides of his body, positioning himself in front of your cunt. “you ready?” logan asks you and you nod, earning a disapproving head shake from logan. “words bub, c’mon.” he says again tapping at your cheek, “yes m’ready logan!” you say, a certain huffiness in your tone just waiting for him to put it in. he pushes the tip of his cock in, already feeling a huge difference from his just his fingers, grunting above you. “fuck baby..so fuckin tight for me..” you can only sob in response, scratching at his back trying to brace yourself for taking in all his length. “hngh it’s s’really big lo!” you say, your body rocking against the bed as he thrust into you, slow strokes into your wet cunt making you feel every inch. “taking me so good sweet girl, so fuckin good..” he says kissing at your neck, being ever so gentle with you as he plows himself into your pussy, your messy cunt being heard all over the room. you feel a tremble in your tummy, the same feeling you got when you were stuffed with logans fingers just a few moments before. grasping at his back you look up at him with needy eyes, the older man locks eyes with you and it’s like he can read your mind. reaching his hand down to your achey cunt and rubbing your clit, he has you quivering under him with your legs shaking. “yeah you gonna cum for me baby hm?”

nodding at him suddenly you let out a gasp, feeling logan press down on your stomach as he’s fully deep inside you, the print of his dick showing in the pudge of your tummy. it makes you whine even more from all the pressure, closing your quivering legs in on his waist from the stimulation and the intense pressure as he snickers above you, “feels good huh bubba..” you cry when he hits that deep spot in you, your hands rushing to his abdomen trying to make him slow down. “w-wait logan please! that’s too much!” and he just smiles down at you, “move your hands, look your already taking me so well..your okay baby c’mon.” he says as you take your arms away hesitantly, the tears in your eyes rolling off your cheek onto the bed. “good girl, see?” taking one of his hands and grabbing the both of yours placing it at the top of your head making it harder for you to squirm, pounding into you as you begin to climax. “m’cumming logan..!” you slur out, unconsciously squeezing around logans length, “fuck me too baby.. give it to me c’mon.” he says wincing, loud squelches echoing in the room as you both cum together, hearing him growl above you feel him filling your hole, grunting as he makes sure you take all of it. you lay there on the bed catching your breath as you come down from your high, logan comes into your view holding your cheek in his hand rubbing it, “did so for me good pretty girl, you wanna get cleaned up?” and you nod your head tiredly, “mm yes please but can you do it for me lo..” you say, eyes already shutting down on you making logan smile, “sure kid.” he says picking you up, walking to the bathroom with you in his arms wondering how the hell is he gonna show up for work with your dad next week.

#logan howlett x reader <3 #wolverine x reader <3 #wolverine #logan howlett #logan smut #wolverine smut #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #im sorry this took so long tinkas

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ckret2 · 5 days ago

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Chapter 91 of Bill Cipher, still in drag as a Normal Human, getting an unusual amount of unsupervised time outside of the Mystery Shack: Agent Powers very seriously pursues the truth behind what happened last summer.

Meanwhile, the other agents very goofily pursue the truth behind what happened last summer.

Lookit'em go.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Bill faces down the metaphorical specter of his own dying legacy.

####

Ford paced across the ritual chamber, reading and re-reading the script Bill had handed him, stroking his chin in concentration.

Bill watched him from the Blind Eye's favorite brainwashing chair, one ankle hooked over the other knee in a figure 4, hands laced behind his head. "I know the script's a little hammy, but you saw those recordings! This is genuinely how these guys talk, I promise!"

"No no," Ford said. "The script's fine. It's just—I've never played a villain before. I need to get in character."

"Oh, you nerd!" Bill rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "This is a big DD & More D session to you, isn't it!"

"Of course not. DD & More D's RPG system is far better suited to swords & sorcery than cloak & dagger."

"You know what I mean."

Ford was fighting to prevent a giddy smile from breaking out across his face. "I assure you, I'm taking this completely seriously."

"Ha! Sure. You're lucky you're behind the camera, that face would ruin the performance," Bill said. "At least it's an improvement over that scowl you always give me." Slightly deflated, he said, "Yeah, that scowl."

"We shouldn't waste time. Should we...?" Ford gestured to the wrist straps on the chair.

"Ha! I don't trust you that much." Bill held his hands behind his back, wrists crossed. "Just pretend I'm tied up, it's fine."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"What's that supposed to mean."

"I'm not an actor. You're a liar but you're not an actor either. We're missing the chanting chorus the cult leader usually has when he does this. We need every tool we can get to make this look convincing."

"Pfff!" Bill waved off Ford's worries. "Re-lax, he won't suspect a thing. Guarantee it."

"Are you sure he's dumb enough to buy this?"

####

Powers sat on the floor, staring into space, as he reevaluated everything he knew about this town.

####

"It's like that goat can teleport," Trigger grunted, trying to get between a couple of trees. "How did it get all the way—?" He tripped over a fallen tree hidden beneath a blanket of ferns and crashed to the ground with a yelp.

Dale leaped over the log, offered Trigger a hand, and said, "Maybe the trees are messing with the radar?"

Trigger brushed some leaves out of his hair. "Where's it say it is now?"

"About twenty feet..." Dale pointed. "That way."

They looked.

Gompers was stood staring over a thick bush at them. Tauntingly.

"Ah-ha!" Trigger ran for him; Dale followed close behind, looking at his tablet. "Now we've got you!" Trigger fought through the bush forming a barrier between him and the goat. "Stay right there, you—"

He yelped as he stepped on air and lost his balance. Dale managed to stop just in time, the tips of his shoes over the edge, only for Trigger to grab his wrist and drag him down—straight into a ten foot deep crevasse that the bush had been hiding.

Gompers stood on the other side of the crevasse, looking down at them curiously.

Dale and Trigger were tangled at the bottom, stuck in a mud puddle that had been left over from the past weekend's rains. Dale groaned at the goat, "How'd you get over there?"

Trigger attempted to climb up the steep side, dislodged a sheet of dirt, and slid back down on top of Dale. "How do we get over there?"

Gompers bleated at them and took off deeper into the woods again.

####

While the agent was busy having what was no doubt a very exciting look into Gravity Falls' secret unauthorized mental health charity service, Bill decided to make a visit to that curtained-off wing of the museum he'd seen last night—the one with all the warnings against bringing a camera into the area.

It was a lot less exciting than Bill had expected. Just a display of a bunch of local Native art—hide clothes with elaborate quillwork and beadwork, jewelry made of shells and claws, stone carvings, baskets... Most of it was the kind of stuff that had been made in this area only long after the locals he'd befriended had so callously betrayed and banished him several thousand years back; only a couple of objects looked like things the people he'd known might have made, primarily the stone things. But even though most of the stuff in the room was "modern," he thought it looked too modern, not like the centuries-old works he'd expected.

The room was familiar—distantly, fuzzily familiar. As though he'd seen it in a dream.

A glance at a plaque on the wall explained why everything looked so new: most of the displayed items were replicas. This was a collection of objects that the Northwest family had stolen from tribes in the area over a hundred years ago. When the Northwest Manor had been sold to one Fiddleford H. McGucket, all objects left behind in it had conveyed, stolen artwork and crafts included—and an oil painting of the sleazy-looking Northwest who'd done a majority of the stealing, which was now hanging in the museum with a list of his known and suspected crimes and injustices displayed next to the painting. It was, Bill had to grudgingly admit, pretty funny. Kudos to whichever museum employee had thought that up.

According to the plaque, Fiddleford had contacted the nearest tribes to ask them whether they recognized anything in the Northwests' collection and to offer to return the pieces—which surprised Bill. He'd never seen Specs as the kind of guy to be particularly interested in repatriation. Most of the ill-gotten art had been gladly taken; anything that nobody had wanted, Fiddleford put in the museum; and a few artisans had even offered modern replicas of some of the items Fiddleford had returned, for public display with the artists credited.

He didn't see why this room was behind heavy curtains with half a dozen "no photography" warnings. It wasn't like these were priceless antiques at risk of degrading under flash photography; aside from the oil painting—which he doubted anyone was too precious about—everything in this room was under a decade old. So why...?

He had seen this little exhibit in a dream, he was sure of it. He tried to find the point of view he'd seen the room from. The room wasn't a perfect rectangle. It turned, L-shaped, into a little alcove. Bill wandered into the alcove—and froze when he saw his own face.

He was eyes-to-eye with the apocalyptic tapestry through which he'd watched the Northwest Manor's great hall for decades: black sky, red inferno, dead trees, dead humans, dying survivors, and above it all Bill's eye shining blood red like the sun hidden behind wildfire smoke. Another: the odd spaceship-shaped gap in the mountains around the town, and Bill—bright yellow against a deep red sky—framed by the gap as though his eye were the setting sun. And another—a pattern consisting of nothing but triangles with eyes, the geometry unusual for art in this region—and another—Bill surrounded by blue lightning, probably a distorted remembering of the unsuccessful redwood portal—and another, another...

Six tapestries in all, of varying sizes. These weren't replicas. Each showed varying degrees of age—broken quills, frayed edges, fading dye, the grime of an article centuries old that had been poorly cared for—but they were all centuries old. The tributes to him made during his long absence: the echoes of a millennia-old generational trauma memory.

The tapestries weren't all that was contained in this little alcove. He forced himself to break eye contact with himself to look at the other items on display. Photographs of several cave paintings—the zodiac, the ritual to summon Bill, the prophecy of his defeat. A few small carvings of his face in stone and wood. Spear tips with his face carved in them, broken due to the way a hollowed-out eye compromised the structural integrity of the stone. And—one of Mabel's blankets, sitting innocently behind a glass case. He stared at it in amazement. Who would have imagined that he'd find a little shrine to himself, right in the middle of the Gravity Falls Museum nearly a year after his death?

On the blanket, his eye had been crossed out with an X of black electrical tape. Bill's blood ran cold.

He forced himself to look at the tapestries again. Some of the quills were broken with age, yes; but someone had also taken a sharp knife and sliced two neat, clean lines across his eye in each of the tapestries, almost invisible except for a few of the broken quills that now bent out of place. The geometric pattern of triangles had been so criss-crossed with slashes that it was amazing it hadn't disintegrated.

His eyes darted over the rest of the objects, studying them more closely. The stone and wood depictions of his face—all freshly re-carved into, X'es covering the eyes. Where he'd first assumed the spear tips had broken with age, he could now see how they'd all been snapped neatly, precisely in half. In the photographs from the cave, he could see his eyes had each been covered by a red spray-painted X. The summoning ritual had also been defaced: apparently not content with painting over it, someone had fully scraped the ritual off of the cave wall, leaving behind only a few missed marks.

None of these items had been defaced before. Bill had made sure that the people in the area passed on a "superstition" against damaging any images of the One-Eyed Beast. (Translation: after they'd figured out that Bill was bad news and decided to cut ties to him, he'd contacted them in their dreams—"If any of you humans even try to take out my eyes, I'll haunt you all so hard. I'll be in your nightmares, I'll be in your kids' nightmares, I'll be in your grandkids' grandkids' nightmares, do not test me!" That had been about the time the shaman locked Bill out of the valley and ensured he couldn't make good on his threat—but the superstition lingered.) He knew for a fact that some of these eyes had even been working as recently as last summer: he'd watched the Northwests' every move through those tapestries. All this damage had been done after his death.

The only item that hadn't been defaced was the blanket. The plaque: "Artist: Mabel Pines, great-niece of town heroes Stanley and Stanford Pines, age 13. Acrylic yarn, 2012. Recreation of a ritual symbol designed to defeat the Beast with One Eye. Donated by Fiddleford McGucket." He suspected this blanket got electrical tape instead of a brutal slashing as a courtesy not to the artwork's subject, but to its artist.

He read the informational plaque accompanying this anti-shrine.

These were the only items in this wing that weren't replicas—because no tribe with ancestry around Gravity Falls Valley wanted them back. (So Fiddleford had offered to return art in Northwest Manor, had he? Begged was more likely.) The plaque explained that neighboring tribes considered depictions of "the Beast with One Eye" to be cursed. "Cursed" wasn't quite the correct term, Bill knew well; but the plaque didn't leave room to expand. It kept its description as terse as possible. (After all, anybody in Gravity Falls already knew exactly why these particular items were cursed; and tourists didn't need to know.) The plaque ended, firmly, "They say they would rather forget about the Beast with One Eye."

Somebody else had scrawled underneath in red marker, "AND SO WOULD WE!"

Underneath the marker scrawl , someone had written in smaller, neat, black pen, "יִמַּח שְׁמוֹ". Yimakh shemo. May his name be erased. A death threat would have hurt less.

There were under ten humans in Gravity Falls that Bill knew had studied Hebrew. He forced himself to wrench his eyes away before he could be sure he recognized the cursive handwriting.

Behold: the legacy of the great, the godly, the All-Knowing and All-Seeing Bill Cipher. Relegated to old history, shoved disdainfully in the corner of a stupid hick town's stupid local museum, with people fighting over who has to put up with the last remnants of him. For thousands of years, the locals had been driven to preserve his memory, but it hadn't been preserved out of reverence; and from now on, it wouldn't even be preserved out of fear.

Without Bill around to pull the strings, the superstitions would fade, the myths would be forgotten, and humans would get bored with the All-Seeing Eye symbol and stop using it. Eventually, humanity's influence would wane, and another species whose culture he'd never influenced would take over; and within a few short millennia, his face would be forgotten on Earth. His face would be forgotten everywhere.

How could this have happened to him?

He glowered at the array of blind eyes staring at him from the walls.

Bill's pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone. Ah, right, Powers. He'd almost forgotten about him completely. Ha.

Powers had texted to ask him to come downstairs. He said there was something Bill needed to see. Yeah, he bet there was.

It was certainly better than this.

####

"Hey there," Dale said, crouched on the sidewalk, voice high and soothing, "come on, this way."

Gompers stared at him distrustfully from just within the protective boundary of the forest's treeline.

Dale was holding out a slice of Greasy's cherry pie on a paper plate. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "We want to help you. You've got a little piece of plastic inside you that we need to get out... it'll probably be good for your health..."

Slowly, Gompers crept out of the forest, watching the agents warily as he approached the plate of pie.

Standing a safe distance behind Dale with his arms crossed, supervising, Trigger said, "You have quite a way with animals."

"I've always found that animals have a calming effect on me, so I've tried to cultivate a calming air in return." He looked up at Trigger. "You see, the key is respect. Mutual respect. From man to animal and from animal to man. One time I was meditating with this Tibetan monk in a dream, and—"

He turned back toward the goat. The pie was gone. Along with half the paper plate, and a chunk of his suit's sleeve.

Gompers was hightailing it down the street.

"Oh."

Trigger said, "I don't think he reciprocates your respect."

####

One of the files Powers had found was in code—he'd have to ask Goldie to take a look at it—but the other file, the one on the Memory Gun, was all in plain English; and for the past few minutes, he'd been reading through a list of adverse side-effects the Blind Eye had discovered from using the gun. Victims who had forgotten how to drive, forgotten their children, forgotten their own names... The aim of the document seemed to be to determine how to refine their wording when they programmed the gun in order to more accurately select their desired memories.

But whoever had written it seemed more concerned with the victims who remembered more than they should have.

Powers was startled by a knock on the door. He slapped the file shut. "Hello?"

"It's me." That was Goldie's voice.

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Come in, it's safe."

There was a moment of silence. "It's stuck."

"What?"

"The door. It, ah—must be... heavy?"

Huh. He crossed the room to help open it. It was a pretty heavy door, but it didn't seem stuck to him; but Goldie just swept past him with a muttered thanks. "What's this room?"

"It's—memories, I think," Powers said. "As outrageous as it sounds, it appears that a secret society stores stolen memories in this room. I've only watched a few, so far I can't figure out the pattern to who's being targeted or why, but..."

He trailed off. Goldie had drifted past the piles of memory canisters with only quick glances, drawn to the odd-looking TV-like screen at the back of the room, as if mesmerized by its glow all the way from the door. He sighed quietly. "There's... something I think you should see."

He couldn't look at Goldie while the recording played. Instead, he watched it again, staring at the past Goldie's terror and rage.

When it was over, all she said was, "Wow." Her voice was strangely flat. It was another couple of seconds before she added, "That's—pretty bad, huh."

Her reaction was underwhelming. Powers turned to look at her, puzzled.

Her expression was terrifyingly blank. There was something hard and heavy and distant in her eyes. Exhausted. Like she was just holding it together under some sort of heartbreak. She was always so animated; the change was almost scary.

He said, "I'm sorry, I should have warned you. It must be a terrible shock." He'd been too shocked to think of warning her.

The comment seemed to shake her out of some sort of trance. "It's—fine. Just gimme a sec, I..." She rubbed her eyelids with one hand. "Wow! Okay. I can handle this. It's just..." She gestured vaguely at the screen. "It's a lot to process."

He could only imagine. "Do you remember this happening at all?"

She took a long moment to answer, fingers still pressing her eyes shut. "No," she finally said. "I think I remember being here before. The room looks familiar." That explained how she'd navigated it so confidently. "But—not that. I don't know when that happened. When did that happen?"

"I think it must have been last summer."

Powers explained everything he'd found so far—the contents of the other canisters, the blueprints for the Memory Gun. Goldie had to sit on a nearby table as she processed this—elbows on her knees, knuckles pressed against each other, index fingers tapping together as she listened.

"It looks as though this 'Society of the Blind Eye' has been erasing the memories of people in town—and people who know too much about them. But I don't know why they're here or why they're doing this," Powers said. "In one of the memories, Preston Northwest mentioned a secret town founder. It might be irrelevant to whatever's happening here, but it does sound like the most important thing on any of the recordings I watched. Aside from—yours."

He sat beside Goldie. "I suspect you were a part of the bureau." It was horrifying to think—that they might have worked together and both forgotten—but...

"Yeah. It's possible," Goldie said.

"Do you remember anything that might have suggested you were part of the bureau? Something we could look up and verify?" Powers asked. "Somewhere you lived in Washington, or maybe part of your training...?"

She winced and broke eye contact with him. "Uh... no. I—I don't."

How much had she lost? Far more than just the details of the investigation she'd come to town for. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders reassuringly. She tensed, then relaxed, then leaned against him—but hardly seemed to notice he was there.

"I think something's coming back," she said, gaze faraway. "Now that I'm here... I remember being in the museum. I think I was caught by somebody wearing a hooded robe."

(Powers glanced at the carving of a robed man in front of the altar.)

"They were angry that I'd taken... some kind of map? It was square, looked really old..."

"A map!" Powers jumped up to grab the file on the Memory Gun and pulled out an odd paper he'd found sticking out of it. "Is this it?"

"That's it!" Goldie favored him with a smile, her first since he'd shown her that memory.

"It looks like gibberish, though," Powers said. "There's several partial images, but nothing clear. I don't know what to make of it."

Goldie glanced over it. "Have you tried folding it?"

He gave her a quizzical look. "Folding it how?"

She raised her hands in a shrug. "It's got creases on it. Looks like somebody's folded it before."

He'd assumed that someone had just folded it to stuff in their pocket at some point—but the creases formed an odd, precise geometric pattern of triangles and diagonal squares. Now that she mentioned it, it didn't look the way anyone would normally fold a paper. He studied the directions of the creases, folded the four corners in to meet in the middle—and a drawing of a pointing hand emerged from what had once been unintelligible lines and curves on the corners of the page. Look at that.

But now the four new corners of the image were covered in inscrutable lines of their own; maybe...? He turned the map over and repeated the process, folding the four corners into the center; and there was a new image, but it looked like a couple of different images jumbled together. "Hmm..." He stroked his chin, staring perplexed at the image.

(Next to him, Bill pressed his lips flat together to keep himself from telling Powers to unfold two opposite flaps and see what happened, come on, do a little experimenting, man. Schoolchildren made these things when they were bored in class and pretended to tell each other's fortune with them, this wasn't that complicated. But no, be patient, it was fine, it was fine, Bill had shown more tolerance for denser humans solving simpler problems than this. What kind of a muse and mentor would he be if he couldn't show a little patience with ignorant mortals? Heck, it was a tribute to Bill's personal patience and strength of character that he hadn't spontaneously combusted the entire Nightmare Realm in the process of trying to get a portal built.)

Eventually, Powers figured it out himself, unfolding the top and bottom flaps to reveal a hidden diagram: a crude graveyard with a tunnel weaving underneath, the tunnel marked with arrows pointing at it. Closing the top and bottom flaps and unfolding the left and right flaps revealed another diagram: it looked like a building floor plan, with a dotted line that led to an equilateral triangle pointed downward. He recognized the floor plan. Aside from the triangle, he'd seen the same map upstairs less than an hour ago. "This is the museum."

"Looks like it. Think it's something important?" Goldie smiled wanly. "You don't typically think of important things being left to rot in some dusty corner of a small-town museum."

"Don't you? If a small town has a museum, I'd think that's where they'd preserve the most important objects they have."

Goldie processed that silently. "Yeah," she said, voice hollow. "Maybe."

"At any rate, it was important enough to erase your mind over. Let's go."

At the door to the pneumatic tube room, Powers said, "I'll follow this map; you watch the exits and alert me if anyone's coming. We don't know who at the museum might be working for..." He turned to look at Goldie, and found she was no longer at his side. "Goldie?" He turned around.

She was storming back across the room, finger pointed like the tip of a saber at the wooden cultist sculpture. "You think you can erase me?! You think you can make the whole world forget I ever existed?!" She clawed at the wooden hood like she was trying to get her fingers into the fabric and strangle the placid-looking figure. "I bet you think you're such a hero! Defending your precious little town from the big scary monster who came here to help you! But you'll never destroy me! I'll make your skin into shower curtains! I'll—let go of me—I'll flip your electrons into positrons, I'll—"

Powers managed to get an arm around Goldie's shoulder and lead her back to the door. She spat in its blinded eye as she left.

####

While Goldie stared at a display on the town's lumber industry (Powers suspected she wasn't actually reading it), he followed the map to find a painting—an odd inclusion in a history museum. It took him a few minutes to realize it should be turned upside-down to match the shape in the map, snapped a picture, and turned his phone over to find an image of an angel.

He didn't know what to make of that; and when he asked Goldie if she could see any sort of codes or disguised messages in it, she said she couldn't. The angel appeared to be a dead end; their only other lead was the town graveyard drawn on the map.

Goldie was uncharacteristically forlorn as they returned to Powers's car and he opened the passenger door for her. As they got on the road, Powers asked, "Are... you alright?" Stupid question. "If there's anything you need..."

"Promise you'll never forget me." He could feel her eyes blazing against the side of his face, staring at him, commandingly.

He nodded. "I promise." Traffic was light; he took one hand off the steering wheel to offer to her.

She seized it firmly, like they were sealing a pact.

####

Gompers ran across the roofs of the businesses lining Main Street, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and bleating in fear as he was chased. And Trigger chased after him, just a building behind Gompers.

But Main Street wasn't very long. Gompers scrabbled over the sloped shingles of a small salon, jumped down to the flat roof of the rival barber shop next door, and found himself out of buildings. He turned around to nervously watch his pursuer.

"I've got you cornered now," Trigger said. "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. Just come along quietly, and..." The roof creaked under him. "Uh oh." It collapsed under him.

He landed flat on his back in the middle of a salon. A couple of hairdressers and their customers stared at him. He sat up, looked around at them sheepishly, and said, "Afternoon, ladies."

####

The angel statue was visible through the trees even before the rest of Gravity Falls Cemetery. When they were close enough to inspect it, it was clear the angel's left hand matched the hand drawn on the map; as Powers was inspecting the hand, he accidentally bent its index finger, and the ground opened up.

Goldie elected to stand guard near the entrance, sitting on the steps, as Powers explored deeper; which was just as well, because the tunnel was apparently boobytrapped. (What in the world was the Blind Eye's budget? Hidden subterranean chambers in the museum, hidden underground tunnel in the cemetery, a memory-erasing ray gun, a poison dart trap...)

At the bottom of a steep incline, the tunnel opened up into a chamber. He expected maybe money, or stolen and forged property deeds, or even bootleg maple syrup... you never knew in this town. He didn't expect piles upon piles of crates and files with the Official United States Government Cover-Up Seal—the seal of the Bureau of Covert Investigations' parent department.

He didn't like this.

He steeled himself and began exploring the room.

####

Goldie lifted her head as she saw Powers coming up the tunnel. "Hey!" She held up one of the files they'd taken from the Blind Eye's filing cabinet. "I decoded that ciphered document you found. It wasn't even a good cipher. I think we've got the Blind Eye's address book! Names, addresses, officer titles—say, what do you think a 'secretary' does in a society that tries to erase memories? He's probably not recording meeting notes..."

She fell silent as Powers flung down a file on the step beside her. "What's that?" She picked it up. The file was titled "THE NORTHWEST COVER-UP" and stamped TOP SECRET. The cover-up seal took up most of the cover; beneath it was an X'ed out eye and the typewritten letters, "in collaboration with the Society of the Blind Eye".

"Everything about this town is a lie," Powers said.

"Everything? What do you mean?" Goldie flipped open the file, skimmed it, and frowned. "Who founded the town?"

"President. Sir. Quentin Trembley. The third. Esquire." Powers pronounced each title separately. He sat down next to Goldie; his hands were trembling. "He was a secret United States president. When he was evicted from office—he wasn't even impeached, they just kicked him out!—he fled across the country and founded This. Town." He shook his head in disbelief. If he hadn't read it himself... "This—this Trembley was an utter madman. He declared war against pancakes, appointed infants to the Supreme Court, banned pants, raved publicly about giant spiders... I'm not surprised he was ousted, he sounds like a complete lunatic."

As he spoke, Goldie's expression darkened. "Huh." But she didn't say anything else. She just stared at the cover-up file.

"Somebody decided to erase his entire existence from history. Nathaniel Northwest was named the founder of Gravity Falls in his place. He sounds like he was just as mad as Trembley was, but—he was just the village idiot, I suppose he must have been easier to control than this Trembley." Powers shook his head.

"So... what does all this have to do with the Blind Eye?" Goldie asked.

"In one of the memory canisters, I saw them discussing this cover-up with Preston Northwest—Nathaniel's descendant. He knew about the cover-up—of course he would, his family's fortune rests upon it!—but... they erased Preston's knowledge of it, too. Not only is this town the center of a cover-up to hide the fact that we once had a lunatic for a president, but also the government set up an entire secret cult to erase the memories of anyone who finds out about it... or, by the looks of things, about anything else happening in Gravity Falls that the government doesn't want civilians looking at too closely."

Powers took a shaky breath. "And that's not the worst of it."

"Oh-oh." Goldie closed the cover-up file and looked at him warily. "What's the worst?"

Powers held out a business card—bent, dusty, worn around the edges from age—that he'd found sitting next to the projector. It was his own business card. "The worst part is, I already knew about it."

####

Dale waited outside the salon, hands in his pockets. He checked his watch, then rocked back on his heels.

Trigger stepped out of the salon with frosted tips. Dale stared at him. Awkwardly, Trigger said, "Well?"

Dale nodded. "Yeah, you look nice, it's nice."

"Thanks. I've always wanted to try the look but never had an excuse," Trigger said. "Anyway—what do we do about the goat."

They started walking back to where they'd parked their car. Dale said, "In my opinion, it's time we call in the big guns."

"You mean...?"

"That's right. Animal control," Dale said. "We can set up a perimeter around town, then slowly close in. We'll tighten the net around it, and—"

Trigger clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. He pointed down the alley they were passing.

Gompers was eating out of a spilled trash can. He looked up like a kid who'd just been caught shoplifting by two cops.

The agents exchanged a look, then lunged at Gompers.

####

When Bill got back to the shack, he owed the Pines a round of congratulations. Stan for stealing back the file on the Northwest cover-up from the police department, and for planting the papers from the case file and the threatening letter in Powers's motel room without getting caught; Mabel for the terrific forgery work on the fake map, the modifications to the cover-up file's cover, and the threatening letter itself; Ford for—well, he hadn't done a lot, but he'd been a decent actor—but on the other hand that yimakh shemo had burned up nearly all the goodwill Ford had earned last night, maybe Bill would skip thanking him; and Dipper had barely done anything, he'd just helped plant the file and the old business card in the chamber beneath the graveyard, Bill could skip thanking him too. Maybe he'd make a point of praising Soos for his chauffeuring just to rub in the fact that he was leaving Ford and Dipper out in the cold.

Thinking over his plans gave Bill something to entertain himself with while Powers clung to Bill's hand and reevaluated his entire life and career.

"I just don't... What else did I forget?" Powers asked. "I apparently forgot about the first time I learned all this... I must have forgotten you..."

"Hold on. Did we know each other before?" asked Bill, as if he hadn't planted all the clues to ensure Powers would come to that exact conclusion.

"We must have," Powers said. "You were investigating in this town, and yet I don't know you; the letter I received threatened that I might lose 'another' team member; and in your stolen memory, the Blind Eye told you that your team wouldn't remember you. I don't have a cryptologist on my team, and you're a cryptology expert. It all fits together."

Bill nodded encouragingly—yes, that was exactly what he'd wanted him to conclude.

"And there's all the other little clues that fit into place. The way you were so interested in this investigation, right from the outset. It makes sense if it was subconsciously familiar. And you think you're a visitor to town but the people here talk about you like you're a resident. They even seem to know you by two different genders... and when you told me to buy a car, you said to say that a 'Mr. Locke' sent me. You must have been communicating with people in town under two identities."

Hold on. That was dangerously close to information Powers shouldn't have. How had he found that out?

"And you know my first name," Powers went on. "Most of the BCI's field agents use code names even in the office. I've been working with Trigger since he joined, and he still doesn't know my first name. If you do..."

Bill was relieved they were back on track. He'd planted that clue on purpose. "Then we must have been close. No wonder I can't keep away from you."

Powers glanced away bashfully. (Ha! Too easy.) "And yet... I don't even know your name."

Alarm shot up Bill's spine. "What?"

"I thought 'Goldie Locke was an improbable name the first time I heard it. But, it's the exact kind of name the bureau would give a field agent. It has to be a code name."

Bill mentally kicked himself for the hundredth time for not choosing a subtler fake name. At least Powers had drawn the wrong conclusion. "Oh. Well. When you put it that way."

"Do you remember your real name?"

He hadn't prepared a backup fake name. He scrambled for another name that wasn't too masculine, too exotic, or even more fake sounding, and came up blank. "Uhhh, yyy—no."

"I wish I could help you remember it," Powers grumbled. "How much do you remember about your life?"

Bill had been deciding that since Powers asked at the museum if he remembered any verifiable biographical details (a question he should have anticipated sooner). He didn't want to say nothing, that might look too suspicious; but he didn't want to give any leads Powers could follow up on. "Not much. Faces without names, flashes of different cities I must've visited... I thought I just... had some kind of amnesia. The people in town have been nice enough to let me bum around here while I figure things out."

"At the Mystery Shack?" Powers asked. "You've been working with Stanford Pines."

Bill flinched. "I—yeah. I have." Sheesh, how did he know that?

"You didn't mention you were staying there," Powers said wryly.

Bill laughed. It came out more nervous than he'd have liked. "Yeah, well. I'm gonna come clean with you: I didn't want you to find out when I was trying to charm you into charming me out of my dress." (He was gratified to see Powers flush pink and turn away to loudly clear his throat. Bill had lost control of this conversation so fast, it was nice to know humans were still predictable in some ways.) "I mean, who wants to tell the handsome federal agent in the nice suit that you're a brain damaged bum couch-surfing in Oregon's most rickety tourist trap?"

"With all due respect, the brain damage wasn't as well-hidden as you think."

"Wh—hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Your trouble with your eyes. Issues with binocular vision are a common consequence of brain damage." (For the first time that day, Bill was suddenly hyperconscious of the way one of his overtaxed eyes was twitching as he struggled not to let it squint shut.) "And I skimmed the file on the Memory Gun. It mentioned cases of victims forgetting how to safely cross a street, how to ride a bike, how to throw a ball... I figure forgetting how to open doors falls under the same umbrella."

A chill settled over Bill. "Oh," he croaked. "Noticed that, did you. You've... been paying pretty close attention to me." Not to mention talking to someone about him.

"Of course. You're a mysterious woman. I want to learn more about you," Powers said. "We spent all day talking yesterday, and I don't think I learned anything about you except that you've been in town for a month, you have an uncanny knack for cracking ciphers, and you make very interesting culinary choices. You kept the conversation off yourself."

Bill hadn't realized he'd noticed that. Powers wasn't supposed to have noticed any of this. This was what Bill got for trying to dupe a professional investigator. Thank goodness he'd gotten him set him up on this wild goose chase before he'd really dug up too much about Bill's history. Sometimes it was easy to forget that some of this planet's idiots were smart. "Well," he said awkwardly, "now you know why. At the moment, I don't have much I can tell you about myself."

Powers gave Bill a wan, sad smile. "It'll be alright," he said, sliding a reassuring arm around Bill's shoulders, and Bill realized more of his panic must be showing on his face than he'd wanted. "We'll fill in the gaps."

That was just what he was afraid of.

For the first time, the arm around Bill's shoulder felt less like a piece of a puzzle slotted into the proper place—all according to plan—and more like the kill bar of a mousetrap that hadn't yet realized a rodent was standing on the trigger.

Powers's phone rang. He picked it up, and Bill quietly sighed in relief. "Hello?"

"Sir!" That was Dale's excited voice on the line. "We got it! We've captured, extracted, and sterilized the flash drive!"

"Didn't you say it was in a goat? How did you get it out?"

"The, uhh... old fashioned way. Apparently cherry pie didn't agree with his digestive tract."

His voice a little more distant, Trigger emphasized, "Thoroughly sterilized."

"Excellent work," Powers said. "Where are you now?"

"En route to the motel."

"Very well. We'll meet you there."

Perfect, thought Bill. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he'd never have to worry about the agents learning too much again.

####

(Post-TBOB edits! Had to change the age of the items on display in the museum, since TBOB changed Bill's interactions with the shaman from being about 1000 years ago to about 4000 years ago; and since a tapestry like we saw in the Northwest Manor is unlikely to have lasted 4000 years and is made in an art style that seems to be about 1500 years old, had to make up an excuse for it to exist; in the tapestry description, added in the tapestry in Pacifica's room mentioned on TINAWDC; and I think that's it? Just minor details.

And now y'all know why a few chapters ago I had to very clearly establish the distance between Powers's team and the guys who actually know about Trembley lol.

Anyway we are MOST OF THE WAY through the exciting action! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this week's chapter! And I mentioned it on my blog but for those of y'all that only show up for the chapters: we're switching to every other week posts for a while because working on another flashback arc ate up more of my chapter buffer than I'd like. In between weeks with new chapters, I'll be editing and posting old chapters to AO3.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #agent powers #agent trigger #(also featuring: agent dale cooper from hit tv show twin peaks!! he is not—I repeat—NOT a cheap knockoff.)#(you have to read the previous tag in stan's voice to get the full effect.)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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hadersversion · 8 months ago

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how to disappear! - lumberjack! logan x farmer’s daughter!reader: how they first meet

warnings: mentions of christianity, waiting till marriage, innocent reader, implied age gap (reader in 20s and logan being logan so 200?), good ole country attitudes

moodboard <3

🍓you’ve been living in a small town in nebraska your whole life

🍓the youngest daughter to the towns farmer, you were full of personality and many people in the town just liked to be around you

🍓you cared for the kids, helped the elderly, cooked & baker for everyone while wearing a big, beautiful smile on your face

🍓logan came to town in early spring, buying the fixer upper house down the dirt road from your home

🍓you two first met when your father asked you to run down some eggs that the chickens just hatched to the new neighbor as a welcome gift

🍓 you got on your bike, your white skirt flying in the wind as you drive down the hill

🍓 you parked your bike in front of his house and walked around the property, which seemed to be empty besides the pick up truck sitting in the drive way

🍓“hello? hello? i’m y/n, your new neighbor from up the street.”

🍓 you ventured around the property and admired the way it was already coming together. the once run down house now painted a fresh coat of red.

🍓 your walk around the house was cut short when you heard the sound of wood being split deeper into the woods surrounding the property

🍓 clutching the eggs, you followed the noise until you were looking at the ripped back of a man as he swung his axe high in the air

🍓 your body froze as you watched the man move swiftly with his axe, admiring his body and trying to tune out all the things you wanted him to do to you

🍓 he turned around and did a double take, his eyes raking up and down your body

🍓 the older man stood tall, his dark hair spiking up

🍓“um, hello?” he grunted

🍓 his white tank top clung to his sweaty body, showing off his hairy chest

🍓 dog tags hung around his neck as your brain thought about them hanging above your face when he’s on top of you

🍓 your mouth became dry as you stared at him

🍓 “h-hi.” you said shyly.

🍓“can i help ya with something, sweetheart.” he set the axe down and picked up a cigar from a log

🍓“y-yeah, i-um-i.” you were a stuttering mess looking at the gorgeous man in front of you. “sorry, i-uh…i live up the street and my daddy asked me to drop off these eggs to ya. our chickens hatched them this mornin’. think of it as a welcome to the town gift.”

🍓 he looks down at the eggs in your hand and smirks

🍓“appreciate it.” he walks up and grabs the eggs, cigar hanging from his mouth. “tell your pa i said thanks.”

🍓 your breathe hitches as you stare up at him, your thoughts becoming impure before you could even control them

🍓you never had thoughts like this before, you knew that you had to wait until marriage to even cross this bridge

🍓but this man made you want to throw those ideas out the window

🍓you watch as he stares down your chest, your shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination as it opened a bit at the top

🍓 instinctively, your fingers come up and play with cross necklace sitting comfortably against you

🍓you could swear this man let out a small groan at the tiny action

🍓“didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.”

🍓“y/n.”

🍓“y/n.” he repeats back and you swear, your heart melted in your chest. “pretty, just like you. i’m logan.”

🍓 i nod and smile. “thank you.”

🍓 the two of you stand in silence, appreciating the company of one another

🍓“i-uh…i should get going. but it was nice to meet you, logan.”

🍓“back at ya, kid.”

🍓 he watched as you walked towards your bike and hop on

🍓eyes raking over your body one last time as though he was never going to see you again, he wanted to savor you

🍓 you wave innocently and start your journey home

🍓 logan waves back and takes the cigar out of his mouth

🍓“maybe comin here wasn’t so bad.”

#kaila’s drabbles ₊˚ෆ #marvel ₊˚ෆ #lumberjack logan ₊˚ෆ #lumberjack #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #x men #farmers daughter #innocent girl #wolverine x reader #wolverine #hugh jackman

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2tcs · 9 months ago

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day 1: camping and candle

“Ugh. Why are we doing this again?” Danny complained as he watched his dad pull supplies out of the GAV.

“Well, your dad and I agreed that everyone has been a little too stressed. What with the ghosts destroying part of the school and your father and I's recent slump.” Maddie absently replied as she began clearing a spot for the fire pit.

“Besides Danno. This gives us the perfect opportunity to try out the new and improved Fenton Anti-ghost Tent.” Jack shouted as he put a glowing box on the ground and pressed a button on the side that caused it to fold out into what could only be described as a family-size carnival tent.

“Hay Jazz?”

“Ya Danny?”

“Please tell me you packed the actual tent.”

“Yes. I even managed to buy a box of MREs in case Mom and Dad brought contaminated food again.”

“A week of MREs. Yay. Well, we might as well get our side of camp set up 'cause I am not sleeping in that.”

👻🦇👻🦇

“Come hi everyone this is going to be fun. Think about it! Tents, roasted marshmallows, campfire stories. This will be awesome.” Dick said as he jumped out of the van and started unloading camping supplies.

“This is a survival training exercise, Richard. Not a family bonding trip.” Damian said as he looked at the single-family size tent that Dick had packed.

“For once I agree with Damien. This is not what I would consider “fun” or “awesome”.” Tim said as he set up his laptop to finish his report for the next WE project that is due next week.

“I just want to know how the hell I got roped into this.” Jason grumbled as he started picking up stones for a campfire ring.

“Come on guys. This is as close to family vacation as we have been able to get in, like, ever. Let's make the most of it and have some fun.” Dick pleaded with them. “You agree with me, right Duke?”

“I mean. Except for you and Damien, we're all city kids. But I guess it could be fun.” Duke hurriedly added on as he saw Dick start to pout. “Yeah, yeah. Well, I ain't setting this up myself. Duke help me with these rocks. Tim helped Dick set up the stupid tent. And Damien you got the most experience in survival training. I need you to go through and scout the area and pick up wood for this fire.” Jason said while ignoring Dick's happy dance at his family getting along and helping each other.

🦇👻🦇👻

“Come on Danno! How can you protect yourself from ghosts if you don't put on the Anti-ecto Spray?” Jack asked as he followed Danny as he gathered wood for the fire.

“We're in the middle of the forest, Dad. All we have to worry about out here is bugs and bears. And we have a spray for both already.” Danny argued.

“He's right Dad. Besides you have that Ecto Shield that will be covering the camp once everything is set up for the night.” Jazz said, watching as her dad pouted and walked over to their mom.

“Madds? You'll put on the Anti-ecto Spray won't you?”

“I'm sorry dear. But you know that stuff causes my skin to rash. I think I might be allergic to something we used in it.” Maddie said as she pulled out a dutch oven and some baking supplies. “Here honey, why don't you go and make some fudge? I know how much you like your campfire fudge.”

“Campfire fudge is pretty good. But we're going to need more firewood if we're going to bake.”

“I got it Dad.” Danny said, taking off into the woods in a desperate attempt to get away from all the anti-ghost stuff.

“That's my Danny Boy! Always eager to help out. Make sure you get some good size logs too!”

“I’ll go with him. For the buddy system.” Jazz said as she began to walk in the direction Danny had run off in.

👻🦇👻🦇

“Tt.”

“Don't Tt me. A dutch oven is an essential if you are going camping.” Jason said as he checked to see if the water was boiling before moving the pot back over the fire so that the water in it could stay hot.

“It is cumbersome and will weigh us down if we must move quickly through the woods.” Damian huffed.

“Well, it's a good thing we aren't going to need to move quickly through the woods. Now here's a knife and some potatoes. They've already been washed so now they just need cut up.”

“And what makes you think I will help you cook?”

“For the same reason that Tim is cutting up veggies and Duke is cutting the vegan turkey sausage. If you want to eat. You need to help.”

“Richard is not helping.”

“Richard would burn the forest down if we let him do anything more than roast marshmallows.”

“Hay! I'm not that bad.” Dick whined from where he was still struggling with the tent.

“August 26th, 2010.” Tim deadpanned as he put the veggies into the oven.

“Okay. That's not fair Tim.”

“Um. What happened in 2010?” Duke asked before they were interrupted my a loud explosion to the east of them.

“Put a pin in that Glowstick. I think we should check that out.” Jason said as he put the lid on the pot and moved it away from the fire before Tim quickly grabbed the bucket of dirt they had and smothered the fire with it before taking off towards the sound.

🦇👻🦇👻

“What the hell was that!” Danny yelled as he dropped the sticks he was carrying and ran back towards camp.

“I don’t know! Just run!” Jazz shouted back as she pulled out her collapsible creep stick and tossed Danny the laser lipstick.

By the time they broke through the brush, they saw the camp in chaos. The new tent was trying/failing to eat Jack and Maddie was fighting the ecto lights.

“I kinda want to let them suffer.” Danny said as he deactivated the lipstick. Only to sigh as a group of four men ran into the clearing and began to try and help.

“I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” Jazz commented as she watched the human tank shoulder-check their dad to get him out of the way while a tall slender man expertly climbed the poles of the tent to get to the power switch that was at the top of the tent for some reason.

“I don’t know Jazz. They seem like they're doing a good job.” Danny replied as the shortest and skinnyest of the group tried to help Maddy with the lights.

“I’ll get the lights. You get the tent.” Jazz sighed before taking off and using the creep stick to tangle the lights and yank them out of the portable ecto-battery that their parents brought with them. Danny in the meantime ran to the GAV and climbed on top to give him a clear shot at the off button seeing as the tent was moving too much to climb. One clean shot and the tent folded in on itself, back into the box it was that morning.

“Danno! Jazzypants! Good job!” Jack shouted as he scooped both kids into a hug.

“And thank you to you four as well. It’s clear you have had training but you should really leave the ecto fighting to the professionals.” Maddy addressed the young men who had come over to make sure everyone was okay.

“Ecto fighting? Lady I don’t know” The tank asked as he crossed his arms.

“What my brother means to say!” The one who tried to climb the tent interrupted. “Is that we’re from Gotham so are kinda used to having to fight. I’m Dick by the way. This is my brother Jason. Tim is the one who is currently investigating the tent box? And Duke is standing next to him. And last but not least this is Damian!”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all! I’m Jack! That’s my lovely wife Maddie, and these are our kids! Jazz and Danny!”

“You were quite adept with your baseball bat. Have you ever thought about training with a bo staff?” Damian asked Jazz.

“It’s actually what I was originally trained in when Mom was training me how to fight.” Jazz said while straightening her hair once Jack put her and Danny down.

“If you want honeybun I can make you a new bo staff when we get home. It would offer more maneuverability during a ghost fight.”

“Ghost fight?” Tim asked as he and Duke walked over to the little family.

“Ya! Me and Madds here are ectobiologists!” Jack excitedly said before Jazz took the wind out of his sail.

“It doesn’t really matter what we are right now. The FAT completely wrecked the camp. The GAV and the MREs are okay but we’ll probably have to move camp or go home.”

“I saw an old cabin to the west of us with some candles and stuff not far from here when I got the first batch of firewood. We could stay there and leave some of our supplies in exchange for anything we use.” Danny chipped in.

“Hay! I think we passed that on the way here! Maybe we can all camp together! Safety in numbers you know?” Dick suggested as he bounced on his toes.

“That’s a great idea! How about you boys gather your camp and meet us there!” Jack cheered before he ran off to pack the GAV back up.

“Danny dear. Can you go with them and mark a trail to the cabin for us? Here’s some orange ribbon to tie to the trees.” Maddy said before ushering Jazz off so that Danny could “hang out with boys his age.”

“So,” Danny said as he started down the trail. “Gotham huh?”

“Yup. Where are you from?” Dick asked.

“Amity Park.”

“The most haunted place in the world?” Tim asked as he pulled out his phone and began typing.

“Sounds interesting.” Duke said only for Danny to through his head back and groan loudly causing the siblings to look at each other.

“Yes, it's haunted. No, I would not recommend going. The government already has it’s nose in it. And even though my parents didn’t recognize a group of Wayens doesn’t mean I didn’t. We do not need that kind of publicity.”

“Fair enough.” Jason shrugged while leaning over to look at Tim’s phone.

“Let’s just get this done.” Danny grumbled trying to walk ahead of the group.

“We’re totally going to investigate this aren’t we.” Duke whispered when Danny was far enough ahead.

“Tt. Obviously Thomas.”

~~~~~

An hour late but I think I did it. Hope everyone enjoyed it!

#dpxdc #dpxdc event #dpxdcfamilyweek24 #day 1: camping and candle

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evolutionbiofuel · 1 year ago

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Embrace the Tradition: The Art of Wood Fired Pizza Ovens

Wood fired pizza ovens have stood the test of time as the pinnacle of pizza perfection. Their allure lies not only in their rustic charm but also in the unique flavor and texture they impart to pizzas. From this article, you can go through all the reasons why wood fired pizza ovens reign supreme over their electrical or gas counterparts, explore the art of using these timeless cooking marvels, and discuss traditional clay options that offer an authentic culinary experience.

Reasons Wood Fired Pizza Ovens Are Superior

Unparalleled Flavor: Wood fired pizza ovens infuse pizzas with a distinct smoky flavor that cannot be replicated by electric or gas ovens. The high temperatures generated by burning wood crisps the crust while locking in moisture, resulting in a perfectly charred exterior and a tender, melt-in-your-mouth interior.

Quick Cooking Times: These ovens reach soaring temperatures of up to 900°F (482°C) or higher, allowing pizzas to cook in mere minutes. The intense heat ensures that pizzas emerge with a crisp, blistered crust and evenly melted toppings—a feat unmatched by conventional ovens.

Versatility: Beyond pizzas, wood fired ovens excel at cooking an array of dishes, including bread, roasted meats, vegetables, and even desserts. The radiant heat from the fire imparts a delightful smokiness to every dish, elevating the overall culinary experience.

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Energy Efficiency: While gas and electric ovens rely on continuous energy consumption, wood fired ovens harness the natural energy of burning wood. This makes them a more sustainable and cost-effective option in the long run, especially for avid home cooks or pizzeria owners.

Aesthetic Appeal: Wood fired pizza ovens add a touch of rustic charm to any backyard or kitchen space. Their traditional design and dancing flames create an inviting ambiance, making them the focal point of social gatherings and culinary adventures.

How to Use a Wood Fired Pizza Oven

Mastering the art of using a these pizza oven requires practice, patience, and a deep understanding xof its nuances. Here's a step-by-step guide to achieving pizza perfection:

Preheat the Oven: Build a roaring fire using seasoned hardwood such as oak, maple, or cherry wood. Allow the oven to preheat for at least an hour, ensuring that the internal temperature reaches around 800°F (427°C) for optimal pizza cooking.

Prepare the Dough and Toppings: While the oven preheats, prepare your pizza dough and gather fresh, high-quality toppings. Keep toppings minimal to prevent sogginess and allow the flavors to shine.

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Assemble and Bake: Stretch out the dough on a floured surface, add your desired toppings, and transfer the pizza to a well-floured pizza peel. Slide the pizza into the oven, rotating it occasionally to ensure even cooking. Pizzas typically cook within 60 to 90 seconds in a properly heated wood fired oven.

Monitor and Enjoy: Keep a close eye on the pizza as it bakes, using a pizza peel to rotate or remove it from the oven once the crust is crisp and the toppings are bubbly. Allow the pizza to cool briefly before slicing and savoring each flavorful bite.

Wood Fired Options for Clay Traditional Pizza Ovens

Traditional clay pizza ovens offer an authentic and rustic way to cook pizzas, embodying centuries-old culinary traditions. These ovens are typically constructed from clay or terracotta and are known for their excellent heat retention and distribution properties. Buy pizza ovens here, one of the industry’s best 68 cm Table Top Design.

Wood-fired options for clay traditional pizza ovens involve using dry hardwood such as oak, maple, or cherry as fuel. The wood is burned inside the oven to generate intense heat, which is absorbed by the clay walls and floor. This heat is then radiated evenly throughout the oven, ensuring consistent cooking temperatures.

Cooking with wood-fired clay ovens requires attention to detail, including proper seasoning of the oven to prevent cracking and regular maintenance to prolong its lifespan. Despite the additional care required, wood-fired clay pizza ovens offer a unique cooking experience, infusing pizzas with a distinctive earthy flavor and aroma reminiscent of traditional, artisanal cooking methods.

Summary

Wood-fired pizza ovens represent more than just a cooking appliance; they embody a timeless tradition of craftsmanship, flavor, and conviviality. Whether embracing the rustic charm of traditional clay ovens or reveling in the versatility of modern designs, the allure of wood-fired pizza ovens continues to captivate and inspire generations of culinary enthusiasts around the world.

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westafricatimberexport · 2 years ago

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Black Wood Types

Get pure black wood types from WA Timber Export! We provide high quality wood types like Black Limba is an African tropical wood. It’s a hardwood but with low durability and is also prone to insect attack. Other popular names include Frake, Afara and Korina. Contact us today.

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nayaesworld · 5 months ago

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The Beast in the Woods

Warnings: smut, supernatural!Terry

Word count: 3800+

Don’t let the wolf in through your back door…

Nature attracted Willow for as long as she could remember it enchanted her and she filled her time nurturing plants and animals alike. Some would say she spent way too much time surrounded by thick greenery and that’s why she couldn’t stand to be around people. But Willow just preferred her own company most times.

Buying a cottage smack dead in the middle of lush woods sounded like a nightmare to most, but this was prime real estate to Willow. Mornings were spent feeding the neighboring deer herd and wild bunnies that had taken a liken to her and her vegetable garden. After getting tired of trying to keep them from her garden, she had given in and just decided to share what she couldn’t eat, they had a beautiful balance out there and she was content with her little piece of paradise.

This morning was no different, she had awoken from her soft bed in a cheerful mood, an angel in her own right. Completing her morning routine she shook out her short curls and misted them lightly with a little water. This morning a light fog blanketed the woodlands and she pulled on her hiking boots and coat eager to rush out into it.

Expecting to open her large front door to hungry animals, she was shocked to find her front yard and small porch clear of any wildlife. Shrugging to herself she shoved her phone into her coat pocket and started her trek out to the pond a little ways past her cottage.

She loved to visit it because it was a great spot to take pictures and watch nature move around her. The air was fresh and dewy and she smiled up into it, soaking in the clean fresh country air. She thrived off it.

It didn’t take her long to see the pond up ahead and she began to quicken her pace, rushing to seat herself on a log a few feet from the water. And oddly enough when she sat there and waited, no deer rushed out to meet her, no bunnies nibbled at her boots, and no birds chirped from their high perches. Something felt off, it was eerily quiet in the usually loud and bustling woods. Willow felt out of place and oddly like a sitting duck, what had happened between yesterday and now? Sighing to herself she felt like what people said about her was true, if this is what her happiness depended on… was she broken? She admitted she wasn’t into what your typical twenty-three year old was into, but twenty somethings weren’t a monolith… they couldn’t possibly expect her to like something just because they did.

“Maybe I do need to go out and meet people… this is pathetic.” She mumbled to herself and tugged on her short curls, she didn’t wanna beat herself down over human companionship… not again. It had never gotten her anywhere before, but every now and again she truly did long for someone, someone to love and care for outside of her animals. A man? She laughed out loud this time. Would she know the first thing to do with a man? How to cater to him, feed him, pleasure him? God no, she had no such idea the first thing to do with a man,and maybe that’s why she’d never been with one.

Twisting her lips to the side, she decided she wouldn’t make this trip into the woods a depressing one. She would make the very best of it all.

He’d spent the last two weeks watching the little brown beauty flit and twirl effortlessly through the woods. It had been exactly two weeks since he caught a scent so strong and enticing in the wind, that he could only focus on one thing until he found her. Her scent had traveled for miles on the wind, over rivers and lakes and smacked him dead in the face. A sweet scent that reminded him of the honeysuckle that grew in large vines in the bushes, at first he fought to overcome the bloodlust but now he realized he had succumbed to it.

The constant stalking and eying had made him a student to her never changing routine. Each morning she would water her garden and feed the wild animals that gratefully took the easy food from her,each afternoon she would walk the trail to the pond, and she would end her day meditating on a mat in the middle of her flower garden.

Did she know that he’d been watching and waiting around to be fed by her? To feed from her, to soak in the very life force that pumped through her veins. He felt feral and out of his own body most times he was in close proximity of her, the beast inside grinding and gnawing at his mind.

Today was no different; her humming and singing through the woods had alerted him, he cocked his head towards the music coming from her mouth, listening and intrigued yet again. Wasn’t she afraid to be taken out here all alone? Hadn’t she known that she could be snatched and no one would ever find a trace? What was she trying to prove, he felt insulted by her lack of awareness, maybe she needed something to scare her into a sense of self preservation.

This night he knew he could no longer hold back, he felt the presence of the full moon before nightfall ever came, it compelled him to do two things, feed and fuck. Would she even survive something so animalistic as him, and would she accept him for who he truly was? Her love for all things furry and wild made him believe so, but he wouldn’t bet that her pretty little eyes would fill with terror and flee at what he truly was, the form he would take every full moon.

He didn’t have all day to get close to her, so he began to plan his attempt…

Dressed in a cream colored milkmaid dress Willow twirled from side to side, she felt pretty and ethereal. Her curly hair was pulled into a low ponytail and she left her short curly bangs to grace her forehead, slipping on her chocolate brown cowgirl boots she hurried out her back door and into her backyard to water her flowers.

Turning on her water hose she turned the nozzle a few times to her preferred setting and drenched her thirsty plants with water. Her sunflowers had wilted a little from her neglect, but she was hopeful they would perk right on up by tomorrow morning. Walking over and checking her rose bush, she snipped a few stems with her garden pliers and slipped them into her glass vase. These would look gorgeous in her kitchen window. She enjoyed the extended sunlight because on days like this she could water her flowers at 8 pm.

A twig snapping in the close distance snapped her from admiring her flowers, standing to her full height she waited for the deer to come to her… but they never did, instead to her horror she watched a man step out from the woods. Dropping the water hose from her hand she stood in shock, she stared out at him confused by his presence yet curious. Did she have new neighbors?

“Hello…umm are you lost?” Her chipper voice carried across the small meadow.

“Yess… and I’m hurt… I was attacked out in the woods and lost my phone. I’m bleeding and I need to call for help.” His deep voice touched her ear drums and rattled her head, it was so rich and she found herself wanting to hear him talk more.

“I.. umm.. I have a phone you could use, but you’d have to wait outside. Is that ok?” She wanted to help but she still was weary of strangers, no matter how handsome.

“Yes that’s fine with me….thank you.” She watched him walk closer and she stepped into her back door to grab her cell phone. When she made it back outside the size of the man smacked her in the face, even sitting on her bench he seemed to be just as tall as her standing up. The shirt that clung to his body was like a second skin, ready to rip to pieces at any sudden movement. His arms were huge and his bulging biceps were the same size as her head. Stepping closer to him she noticed the blood dripping from his side where a large gash had ripped into his shirt and skin.

“Oh my god… your side.. are you sure you should bleed out like this?” Her panicked questions came out in a blur, this was worse than she had imagined.

“No… I feel dizzy and hot. I need some water please… I feel like I might pass out.” The handsome stranger looked green in the face, like his life was fading away slowly and that he might not last long.

Willow couldn’t let this man die in her backyard. Throwing caution to the wind, she helped him off the bench and let him inside her home to her dining table.

Rushing to her medicine cabinet she pulled out gauze pads and peroxide along with a ointment to help clean the wound while it was patched up.

“I-I can help you ok…. Please don’t die on me…hello, sir can you hear me?” Raising his head from her dining table he put a thumbs up, and she breathed out heavily. Placing the first aid kit on her table she watched him lift his shirt, grimacing as the fabric and old blood stuck to the gash.

“I’m sorry if this hurts… but it’s all I have for something like this… are you ready?” Lifting his head he peered into her eyes and nodded his head. Uncapping the peroxide she quickly doused the wound, the fizzle of it drowned out by his loud groans. His fist balled up at his sides and she lightly placed her hand on his back.

Hurrying to douse it one more time for good measure she cleaned the debris and blood from the area and placed a large gauze over the area. Rushing to her fridge she grabbed two cold bottles of water and sat them in front of him. Uncapping the water she watched across the kitchen as he sucked down both bottles insanely fast. Could her day get any weirder?

It worked? The injured stranger ploy had really worked. He wasn’t too surprised though and enjoyed her tending to his self inflicted wound, her small warm hands felt like dancing fire on his skin, flickering and flitting as they pleased. Yet trying not to hurt him.

Her small frame was now across the kitchen as she carefully watched him, probably wishing she hadn’t let him into her home.

“Thank you… I imagine it wasn’t easy to let a stranger into your home… but I’m appreciative.” He let his voice drop and become soft, and he watched her form straighten up. A small smile gracing her perfect cherub face before she spoke.

“Umm…you are very welcome…are you from around here… you can still call someone if you need to?” Oh he would be doing no such thing, he was exactly where he needed to be; wanted to be. The lion oh so entranced with the lamb…

“Yess I’d still like to take that call if I can.” Placing her phone into his large hands he pretended to dial a number as he faked a phone call to a family member.

As he ended the fake call he glanced at the time in the corner of her screen… 10:30 pm.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, felt it in his bones, felt it where she touched him. The full moon loomed over the cottage like a bat signal, and he watched her chest rise and fall with her breast. Her perky titties sitting up in her little milk maiden dress, he heard the pulse racing in her veins. Was she getting scared? She should be, you don’t talk to strangers and you certainly don’t let them into your home.

“So… is-is someone gonna come to pick you up…. If not that’s fine … I can drop you where you need to go?” She was growing suspicious of him; he even smelt a little fear mixed into the air. Was he sick to be turned on by this little doe’s fear, couldn’t he just walk away and spare her… no he had gone too far already to turn back.

“No one is coming to get me… and I don’t want you to drop me anywhere… I’m exactly where I need to be, sweetheart.” Grinning at her he could feel his canines begin to elongate and come to a point. Her eyes widened as she backed into the corner in her kitchen, he raised out of her kitchen chair and stalked towards her.

“Please don’t make this hard for me little doe… I’m here to bring you pleasure… and a little pain if you let me.” He took her face into his hands and sniffed the jet black curls on her head, filling his nose with the pomegranate scent from her favorite hair care line.

She smelled sweet from head to toe, a lamb walking into a lions den. She finally let her big chocolate orbs meet his and he watched the fear wash from her body, what had she seen in his eyes that caused a sudden change of heart… she couldn’t possibly feel for him what he felt for her.

“Please don’t hurt me….I don’t want you to hurt me… please be gentle.” Ahh so she was giving in, and she didn’t even know what to. She didn't know that she’d be devoured from the inside out and ravished. She took the first chance she could to lean up and press her lips to his, her little body felt electrical. Sparks flying from her hot skin, he growled and curled his large hand around her slim neck and hungry introduced her mouth to his tongue.

“Why are you giving yourself to me so eagerly… aren’t you afraid?” He watched as she shook her head no, she should be.

“No… I’ve waited for something like this for so long… why be scared? You won’t hurt me… right?” His intense ocean eyes squinted as they stared down at her, opening his mouth he revealed his long canines. Her dainty hand reached up with her pointer finger and touched his teeth in awe. As she began to retract her hand he captured it in his and sucked her finger into his hot mouth.

“Wha-what are you?” Her breath came out in shudders as he reached into the crook of her neck to nip into it.

“I’m a beast you’ll learn to love… or you’ll die trying.” Tugging her ponytail back he extended her neck further and ran his tongue along her jumping pulse, it was all he could hear right now outside of her little gasps. What did her blood taste like?

Slinging the little brown beauty over his shoulder he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. The room smelled of her, had a boho vibe and was filled with greenery. A true reflection of the little nature fairy he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into. She had long ago kicked off her boots and now only resided in her cream dress, brown eyes low with need.

“This is my first time… will you be gentle with me…I want this to be special.” She was cute, cute to assume gentle is what she’d achieve fucking with an animal. The news excited him and furthered his own obsession for her, could humans carry Lycan cubs… he was being irrational, hung up on the thought of never feeling loneliness again.

He pulled her up and watched her undress, all that was left… a pair of white cotton panties. Stripping out his own clothes he moved to hover above her and suckled her c cup breast into his mouth. His large tongue sucking her pebbled nipples into his mouth, her skin even tasted sweet… whatever homemade body cream she had whipped up; her skin the scent of mangoes. Moaning low in his ears he watched her writhe beneath him, thighs rubbing together to apply friction to her dripping pussy.

“Aht aht… let me work my way down to it lil mama… are you wet yet?” Still sucking on her breast he raked his hand down her body until they met the hem of her panties. Sliding his hands into her panties he felt the wet spot forming in the front and groaned. This wet little pussy was priming itself for him, and it had no idea what was in store. His finger rubbed up and down her wet lips, slowly reaching the little slit that poured liquid like a faucet.

“Please… put it in please I’m begging.” Her pants were music to his ears and he pushed his middle finger into her warm entrance and stroked slowly, listening to the squish get louder and louder. Her legs widened and he positioned her to sit with her back to his chest and pull her legs up to hers. He ordered her to kick off her panties and lay against him as he worked on adding his second finger.

“Ahh-hmm… please…pl- oh I want to cum… can I please” she squealed out at him and he sped his fingers up, smacking into her fat mound at a speed she couldn’t catch on too. Her breath rushed out of her breath quickly and before he knew it a clear coat of liquid coated his fingers. Pulling his fingers out he observed the liquid up close and placed it to his nose. His own personal drug, he was sure his eyes had crossed as he let the sticky fluid touch his tongue.

Moving from behind her he stood in front of her and grabbed her chin into his hand. “I want you to taste yourself… taste this sweet pussy.” She allowed his tongue to seize her mouth, and their tongues tangled in her mouth. He was changing again, his nail beds now long, dawning claws at the bed of them.

He stood again dick hung and swinging in front of her… it was now or never. He had to take this little doe and expose her to the reality of him. He couldn’t ignore the worried expression on her face if she tried.

“Listen to me, I can only make this gentle if you relax for me… if you seize up it will hurt… I need you to trust me and let me do this for you.”

“Ok… I’ll try.” Her voice came out low but his ears caught her words. Laying her down on her back he placed her legs on either side of his head and started to lead that fat head of his penis into her tight little hole. It was excruciating for him… the pressure her walls put on him made him eager to hold her down and pound her out… but he had to go slow and be patient for her. He lifted up and watched her face, it was scrunched up and her mouth laid wide open sucking in air slowly, sliding another few inches in he felt her hands rest at his hips to stop him.

“Just a little slower ... .please” and slow is what he gave her, pulling all the way out he started over. Eager to have her begging to be filled with ten inches of supernatural dick. The slow stroking opened up a small water park between them, her cunt now open and taking his heavier strokes.

Her bed shook and smacked into the wall loudly as he slammed down into her awaiting pussy. Pulling out he drug her body towards the edge of the bed and pressed her knees into her chest; continuing his assault on her good pussy he anchored himself to the floor and dipped his hips, knocking the Mario coins out of her. Reaching out to grab at his back she gasped for air, her face a mixture of confusion and ecstasy.

“Oh-ahh… please I feel something…. I have to pee please… oooweee.” This put his stroking into overdrive and he watched as a geyser erupted from between them.

Her spent body splayed out in front of him, he felt the effects of the full moon begin to fully change him. She watched in fear as his body contorted and twisted, skin ripping apart to make way for fur and claws. His already large ears thinned out and grew long on top of his head, his mouth elongating into a snout. The creature barely able to stand up fully in her bedroom watched her carefully, she was too afraid to move a muscle and offered herself up to the beast.

It moved towards her in a stalking manner and stroked the soft skin of her cheek. “Please don’t stop…. I still want more…. I don’t care if this is what you really are.”

He had waited to hear those words all night long, and indeed had no plans on stopping. Careful not to scratch her with his long claws he flipped Willow over and arched her back, sitting her ass as high up as he could get it. The beast growled as it reached down to lap at the wetness that still leaked from her, the long dick between his legs jumping having a mind of its own.

Leading his penis into her snug hole he lifted his head back and howled, the sound booming throughout her house and her brain, the strokes were hard and fast. The constant feeling of fur brushing against her body tickled her and made her pussy leak more into him. A small cut formed from where his claws had nicked her and he reached down and suckled at the blood.

“Ohhh fuck me… har-harder…. Yessss baby please.” She was lost in euphoria, clouded and claimed by the beast’s presence. He continued to pound into her alarmingly fast, reaching down to tug on her curls.

His hips began to falter and she felt her walls tugging on his dick, with a deep growl and a nip to her neck she felt him pumping his semen into her. His full body weight on her she could only lay there and succumb.

Willow awoke the next day feeling….freshly fucked. Her mind and body wrapped in a mini coma that she would gladly endure again and again. Turning around she stared down at the beautiful man in bed next to her…he had come into her life and quite literally rocked it.

“You never told me your name.” She pouted down at him and accepted a peck to her lips.

“I’m Terry… Terry Richmond.”

A/N: I am so insane for this😭it’s currently 3am my time and I just finished typing this up… it was a random thought at like 8pm and I was like woah wtf. Anywho I really hope yall like it🫶🏾

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @keyaho @kimuzostar @theereina @fakxmbj @uzumaki-rebellion @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair

#terry richmond #supernatural #werewolf #black women

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zenfireplaces · 1 year ago

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Elevate Your Space with Zenfireplaces' Suspended Wood Burner

Discover the epitome of style and warmth with Zenfireplaces' suspended wood burner. Elevate your home's ambiance with this sleek, contemporary design. Experience the perfect fusion of form and function. With eco-friendly heating, exquisite craftsmanship, and a touch of modern luxury, it's time to redefine comfort in your home. Explore now and embrace the Zenfireplaces experience.

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 4 months ago

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A Winter Getaway (and Proposal) With You ❄️💍 (Nanami x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵

Pairing: BF!Nanami Kento x Black!GF!Reader (Dating to Married Couple)

Synopsis: Nanami sweeps you away to his winter cabin for the cold season as he works up the nerve to propose to you.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+; Established Relationship; Dating to Engaged; Proposal; Fluffy, Sweet Vanilla Sex; Disfigured!Nanami; Scar Appreciation; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Multiple Positions; Multiple Reader Orgasms; 69ing; Slow to Feral F*cking; Sex By The Fireplace; Reverse Cowgirl; Cum Play; Mild Foot Fetish; Choking; Massaging; Creampie; Breeding; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Something sweet for the holiday season AND for my sweetie Nanami. I love & miss him sm. Enjoy! -Jazz 🩷🩷

🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵

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“So did you ask her yet?” Haibara asks for probably the thousandth time this week.

Nanami huffs from his spot crouched on the floor, peering into the cold, unlit fireplace. “For the last time, no,” he snaps. “I didn’t…yet. I’m still figuring out how to and we just got here this morning.”

He stands and reaches for the box of matches up on the mantle, preparing to light the hodgepodge of newspaper and logs he gathered earlier.

“Well, what’s the hold up, Kenny?!” Haibara exclaims. “You could’ve asked her last night! Don’t you love with her?” Nanami rolls his eyes, knowing how dramatic his friend can be. “You know I do,” he growls. Why the hell else would he have rented an AirBNB out in the woods and taken you away on a winter getaway?

You and Nanami have been dating for five years now and only started living together a year ago. Two of the best decisions of his life were asking you to be his girlfriend and then asking you to live with him. You are truly one of a kind. A beauty. A gem. An intelligent, gorgeous, kind, loving woman he would love to spend the rest of his life with.

Nanami knows he hit the jackpot with you. With his disfigurement from the Shibuya Incident that resulted in the left side of his face and body being completely scarred, he would have figured no one would love him the way he truly wanted to be.

But then you came along and changed his entire outlook on that. Not only are you so sweet and understanding, you are probably the most beautiful woman he has ever met. You can wear your hair in any fashion and still look damn amazing. He loves the way your brown skin glows in the sunlight. How soft and plump your lips are. The thickness of your thighs and behind that he always takes a peek at when you walk by.

You listen to him when he has stuff on his mind. You always fix him coffee in the morning before work. You laugh at his dry jokes and tolerate his book nerdiness. You are everything to him. He can hardly imagine living a life without you in it and it makes him sick to his stomach to even fathom it.

Which is what brought him here today to this lovely cabin up in the snowy mountains and pushed him to buy that engagement ring. He figured a weekend in a cozy cabin away from the city life would be the perfect time to propose to you. You were more than happy to come along with him, having been drained from work and holiday shopping. And when you found out that a free spa and a ski lodge were just down the road, you were absolutely ecstatic.

“I intend this to be special,” Nanami tells his longtime friend despite the sour taste in his mouth at the mere thought of marriage. “Now quit bothering me. I’m busy making a fire.” He holds his cell phone in the crook of his neck and shoulder while he lights a match and tosses it into the fireplace. Flames eat at the newspaper immediately.

This is really just a ploy to distract himself. The truth is that Nanami is terrified of asking you to marry him. Though you live together and have been dating for nearly a decade, you never discussed marriage outright or upfront to each other, which probably would’ve been a better, logical, and more practical idea.

But you had told him once before that you’ve always wanted to be married and have a family. He never forgot about that or the dreamy, hopeful look in your brown eyes.

“But it may never happen,” you laughed, but it sounded so sad. “People don’t want to build things anymore.”

He did. He wanted to build something with you so badly. He wants so much to build on the life you have created together and make your little home into one for three or four. He wants nothing more than to see a little you or him running around with the pet dog or cat, giggling and stumbling about on chubby legs.

That fantasy almost makes him want to wake you up and propose to you right now if it wasn’t for the stone in the pit of his stomach. He is so scared you’ll say no, regret him and leave him. He knows that it’s illogical. He knows that it’s insane. But dammit, if his mind isn’t racing! He just doesn’t know what he’ll do if you say no.

“Where’s the missus at?” Haibara asks. It allows Nanami to not think of marriage or impending doom for a while. “Taking a nap. I just got back from a run, so I’m building a fire for us when she wakes up.”

You, his poor little baby, were wiped out after you left your apartment to hit the road for the AirBNB. It was about a three-hour drive up here and you slept as soon as you got in the house, barely even touring the place. He let you sleep and instead unpacked, ordered groceries from UberEats, and took a run through the snowy hiking trails, letting the cold air fill his lungs and clear his head.

Haibara coos, making Nanami grit his teeth. “Well, aren’t you adorable? Buildin’ her a fire, takin’ her away for a winter getaway.”

“He’s whipped!” Gojo calls from the background. “Did he do it yet?!” Unfortunately, he too is one of Nanami’s oldest friends and work partners in the chaotic world of curse hunting. “Tell him to shut up,” he huffs. “This is why I won’t be telling him at all when it happens. Besides, I’ve got about three days to do it.” Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Plenty of time to overthink and possibly not even do it and then regret his choices later.

“And those three days will go by fast, so do it as soon as you can!” Haibara lectures. “You’ll keep rethinking it if you avoid it, Kenny.”

“Yeah, then you’ll give her the wrong idea and you’ll be fighting on the way home from your winter weekend love affair,” Gojo adds. Habibara sighs while Nanami resists the urge to hang up. “He’s being dramatic. Just remember what you’re doing this for and why you want to propose.”

Yes, he knows why. It’s because you’re the love of his fucking life and he would be a fool to give you up. To be your husband would be a privilege and an honor. Maybe that would work as his proposal to you. “I just….” He sighs to himself, placing the match box up the mantel and crouching on the floor. He stares into the orange flames of the fireplace, hoping they will give him an answer to his dilemma. “I don’t know how to do this.”

He has never felt so deeply for someone before. He has never even had a romantic partner for this long before. And if you say no, who else would he find? Would he truly be able to move on without you?

“There’s no right way to propose, Nanami,” Habibara soothingly says. “Well, there is, but we know you’ll make it as romantic as possible for her. You’re doing it because you love her, right?”

A thousand times yes! “Yes,” he sighs.

“And you wanna be with her, right?” Gojo adds. Nanami’s heart tightens at the thought of you. Beautiful, amazing you. “More than anything,” he answers, his voice tight with emotion.

“Then it’ll come naturally!” Gojo chirps. “You’ll know the right time when it comes, just like when you realized you loved her.”

He is right. When Nanami realized he was in love with you, it was as simple as breathing. It was a slow burn, surely, but when it happened, Nanami fell hard and fell deep.

And to hear that you were in love with him too made him all the more sure that you were his person. But there is still one burning thought in his mind that curses him and has been since the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. “But what if she says no?” he asks, his voice hushed and low. He can’t even say it clearly aloud.

“She wooon’t!” Gojo groans. “Stop thinking so negative, Nanami! Think positive! Who else is gonna treat her like you do?”

‘A lot,’ Nanami wryly thinks. A girl as beautiful, smart, and freaky as you? Any man would be tossing themselves at you. When you go home, Nanami is always catching the wandering eyes of strangers staring at your face, chest, or ass. While it is annoying, he does get a small pang of victory for bagging such a sexy woman, especially with his scars.

“She’ll say yes because she loves you too,” Haibara says, the voice of reason. “After five years together and a year of living together, of course, she will! And if not, then it’s her fucking loss. You deserve so much more, Ken.”

He knows what his friends are right. He knows that you couldn’t possibly refuse after spending five years with him. Yet his mind is still racing and his confidence is waning. “But—“

He freezes, suddenly hearing your footsteps creak overhead. “That’s her,” he hisses. “Don’t call me back.” He quickly hangs up and slips his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants just as you venture down the steps.

You yawn, looking so cute in your baggy sweats, hoodie, and satin bonnet protectively holding your braids. He smiles, opening his arms to you. “Good morning.” A smile pulls at your lips as you walk into them, slumping against his taller, bigger form. “Good morning,” you giggle. “At 3 PM.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We had quite the morning, and you didn’t get much sleep in the car.”

“Mmm, that’s fine,” you sleepily hum. “That bed upstairs is straight out of a dream.” He grins proudly, happy to hear you love the master bedroom. He specifically picked this place out for its fireplace, private hot tub on the deck out back, and cozy atmosphere.

“I’m glad you approve.” You giggle, squeezing him against your smaller body. “Oooo, you made a fire?” You peer into the fire, your eyes glistening.

Nanami nods, watching you admire the fire. “The house was freezing when I came back from my run, so I took advantage. It’s supposed to be a snowy night, so I figured I’d cook tonight.”

The way you look up at him makes him want to pull that ring out of his suitcase. You stare up at him as if he is the best thing since sliced bread. “Of course,” you softly reply. “I love your cooking, Ken. Plus, a night in with you doesn’t sound too bad.”

You snuggle closer to him, not so subtly pressing your tits against his chest. He notices and instantly, the blood starts rushing to his cock. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to three days of sex with you that won’t be interrupted by work calls or responsibilities. “And why is that?” he asks, his voice dipping an octave as he places with the drawstring of your sweats.

You peer up at him again, a smile playing on your lips that is both sexy and adorable. “Well, who else am I gonna force to watch Christmas movies with me?” He tsks, making you giggle hysterically. Of course, you’d want to do that on your winter getaway trip. “Fine. Just not those damn stick figures.” You scoff and smack him on the chest. “Hey! Those are my childhood faves!”

That’s another thing he loves about you: your feistiness. It turns him on every single time. You place your hand on his chest and play with the zipper on his active sweatshirt, breathing in his scent of sweat, sulfur, and pine from outside. “Thank you for this, Nanami. I needed this soooo bad, you have no idea.”

He smiles, jubilant and proud for doing this for you. “We both did,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crowd of your head.

You tilt your head up, giving him the perfect view of your shapely, soft lips. Suddenly, his are on yours and you stand on your toes to deepen the kiss, turning it from something sweet and innocent into something of passion and need. Need that has been boiling inside of him for days now. Need that makes him jack off at work to the thought of you and that ass that his hands glide over right now while you indulge in his chest.

He suddenly feels your hand slide against the waistband of his pants and gently pulls away. As much as he would love to fuck you out of your mind in front of the fireplace, there will be time for that later. All good things come to those who wait. “I-I should get started on dinner,” he stammers, his cheeks hot with embarrassment and arousal. “Does steak sound good to you?”

You smile, your eyes glittering at the idea of a steak dinner. “That sounds perfect. I’ll take a shower and be back down soon.” He nods and you kiss once more before you break for the moment to do your own thing. But as you go to the staircase, you stop, one hand on the banister. “Nanami?” you call. He turns around to look at you, finding you smiling so lovingly at him. “I love you.”

Those three little words fill him with more life than air could give him. He can’t stop himself from smiling or his stomach from fluttering. “I love you too, baby.” You smile, overjoyed with his reply, and then venture upstairs to take your hot shower.

Yes. Tonight is the night for him. It has to be.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Two hours later, dinner is done and the night has fallen, cold and white outside.

Nanami stands in the kitchen at the sink, his hands deep in some sudsy, soapy water washing the dishes and wine glasses from dinner. Next to him, the half-empty bottle of red wine that he saved for tonight’s meal sits next to him…along with the ring box.

He is planning on telling you after dinner, but “after dinner” has arrived and he still hasn’t. He washes dishes as a distraction, hoping that maybe he can think of a good way to ask you, but nothing comes.

More than anything, he is afraid of turning such a chill, perfect snowy night into one of awkwardness and tension. A marriage proposal can either make or break a relationship. He would hate to have anything ruin his chances of being with you forever.

Suddenly, he feels two arms wrap around his waist from behind and smiles as your vanilla and cinnamon-scented body wash and caramel body spray hits his nose, tantalizing his senses. “Whatcha doin’?” you whisper. He can tell you’re tipsy from the wine.

“Washing these dishes so we won’t have to do ‘em tomorrow.” He carefully places a wet wine glass on the drying rack before moving on to a dish streaked with residue from the steak and salad he whipped up.

You stop him, your smaller, daintier hands caressing his wrists. “Just put ‘em in the dish washer,” you murmur, your lips at his ear.“Come be with me by the fire. I miss you there.”

Nanami shivers at your presence and your wicked ways. How do you seduce him so easily? He listens, slides your ring into his pocket, and loads the dish washer up with dirty dishes before he follows you into the living room. You have set the cozy space up with blankets and pillows in front of the blazing fire along with two mugs of hot chocolate and a Christmas movie playing on the TV.

He rolls his eyes at the 70s stick figure Christmas movie on the screen. “You little sneak,” he huffs, swatting you on the ass. “You just seduced me in here to watch these damn movies.”

You cutely pout at him, looking oh-so adorable in your oversized sweater and knee high socks. You look like you want to be tossed down, turned out, and fucked by him. “But this one is goooood! I promise, you’ll love it!”

Despite the corniness, Nanami sighs and gives in. “Fine, but if they start singing, I’m turning it off.” You squeal excitedly and pull him down to sit next to you on the blankets with your mugs as the cold wind blows outside, whistling through the pine trees.

You and Nanami find a good position to cuddle, him acting as the big spoon while you’re the little spoon, your legs entangled. He places one arm on your waist while the other props his chin up, allowing him to rest his neck. It is a perfect position, allowing him to admire your figure and inhale the scent of your fruity shampoo.

Halfway through the movie that he’s barely paying any attention to, you turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You nuzzle your cheek into his chest, making his cock twitch. “You’re so warm,” you sigh. “And you smell so good…and you’re so tense.”

He chuckles, noticing that you’re gliding your fingers along his back muscles. “Comes with the territory.” He was planning to take a dip in the hot tub later tonight to ease his sore muscles, but you seem to have other ideas.

“Oh, you poor baby!” you gasp, popping up from the floor like a Jack N The Box. “Lemme go get the massage oil! I brought some for the spa.” You give him a wink before you go running off upstairs to fetch the oil, allowing Nanami to try to pat down his hard-on as much as possible.

When you routine, you have a bottle of mango and coconut-scented oil in your hand and a rather mischevious smile on your pretty face. You kneel before him, already rubbing the oil in your hands. “Now strip,” you giggle. “Just the shirt.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just trying to get me outta my clothes.” You gape at him, mockingly offended. “Whaaaat?! Noooo, we’d miss the movie! I just wanna relax those sore muscles like a good partner should.”

You’re a terrible liar, but he plays along anyway, loving your little games. He strips off his sweater, revealing his toned body, blonde tufts of chest hair, and burn scars to you. You lovingly stroke them much to his liking, enjoying your tender touch. You don’t shy away from them and that makes him love you even harder.

You move behind him and begin to massage his shoulders and neck, your fingers kneading his tired muscles. His eyes flutter at your touch, his cock growing harder at your hands and the fruity scent of the oil. It’s like an aphrodisiac to him. “Mmmm….”

“Good?” you whisper, your lips toying at his ear. “Mmm-hmm.” He can’t even form words. Your fingers feel so good on his bare skin as you massage the oil into his muscles.

But very suddenly, the massage takes another turn when you begin to massage and squeeze his pectorals as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. Nanami blushes red at your ministrations, confused and aroused. “Uh….baby? What are you doing?”

“Cuddling you,” you simply reply, still doing what you’re doing. Your hands indulge in his upper torso, feeling him up in a way that makes Nanami feel like a personal body pillow for you.

“This doesn’t seem like cuddling.” You him in response, beginning to kiss along his neck. He swallows hard, his cock swelling at the feeling of your soft lips. “I-I thought you wanted to watch the movie,” he stammers.

“I did until I realized that I need to be showing my sexy and amazing boyfriend more attention.” You turn his face to meet yours and your gleaming, hooded eyes. “I wanna watch you instead, Kento. I want you right here, right now.”

The lust in your eyes makes your pupils dilate like a cat’s, filling Nanami with a fire that only you can put out. He leans in first, unable to avoid this feeling anymore, and presses his lips to yours. You moan as he cups your face, deepening the kiss until you’re on top of him.

The movie is now forgotten, all dialogue and singing mere background noise as you and Nanami indulge in each other. You moan through the slow, sexy kiss as he nibbles on your bottom lip the way you like while you straddle him. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

At the taste of you and the feeling of your soft lips and wet tongue, Nanami’s cock grows in his pants, chubbing against the fabric. You must know this because you slink down to his waist and begin palming at his bulge. He sits up, watching you. “You’re very persistent tonight,” he chuckles.

You pout those pretty lips at him, your eyes soft and lustful. “I can’t help it. You’re just so hot, Nanami.” You slowly work his pants and briefs down, your face lighting up at the sight of his hard, throbbing cock.

No matter how many times you’ve seen it, you always look at it like it’s the first time. And no matter how many times you suck it, you still make Nanami feel like he did the first time you did so.

He watches you, hungered as you wrap your oil-slick hand around him and begin to pump his shaft as you wrap your lips around him. “Ah,” he sighs, your velvety mouth and wet tongue like silk against his hard dick.

You turn into a dick fiend while you blow your boyfriend, your mouth moving up and down along his cock. You stare at him as you do it, the fire blazing behind you. You look damn near ethereal as you take his cock deep into your throat, pumping him with your sloppy, tight, silky throat.

Nanami can hardly stand the sight, unable to fully grasp the fact that such a sexy little thing is his as his cock disappears into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You’re so good at this shit. Such a good girl for me, right?”

You bring out such a feral, nasty part of him. A part of him that wants nothing more than to fuck you endlessly and make you cum over and over again until you’re a spent, twitching mess for him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth and hold it against your soft cheek, smiling. “Only you, Daddy,” you coo.

You go back to blowing him, using your throat to flex and gag around him, hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. Nanami’s deep moans drift into the air as he grips the blankets underneath him until his knuckles turn white.

You begin to moan in time with the squelching, wet sounds drifting from your throat, the vibrations traveling through his balls heavy with cum. He can feel himself losing control and quickly stops you before he blasts all over your face.

“Fuck, baby!” he moans. “Stop for a minute.” You do though confused, your saliva hanging off of your bottom lip, connecting to his cock head. “I wanna take care of you too. Get on top of me and face my cock.”

The urge to touch you and taste you is burning him up inside, threatening to engulf him. A naughty grin stretches across your face. You’re definitely not gonna refuse the opportunity to get your pussy ate. “Okaaay,” you giggle. “You gonna give me a massage or something too, Ken?”

Nanami smirks as you stand, turn, and proceed to sit on top of him, your perfect ass in his face. “Or something, yeah.” His big hands knead and spank your asscheeks for a bit, relishing the moan you make and the way your cheeks recoil against his palms.

He takes the bottle of oil and rubs some between his palms, heating it up and making his fingers slick. He then begins to massage your ass and back, taking extra care to rub his knuckles along your spine. He loves watching the way you melt into his touch, settling down on top of him. “Mmm,” you hum. “That feels so nice.”

He smiles, his cock twitching and throbbing at those simple words. He loves making you feel so good. “Yeah? How ‘bout this then?”

He begins to pay extra attention to your butt, massaging each cheek in a way that would make any man nut on the spot. He ogles at the way your asscheeks look slick and shiny with oil, imagining this massage oil dripping down your pretty asshole and the slit of your cunt. He is a total goon for you and he knows it.

Unable to stop himself, he spreads your ass apart and begins to tease the puckered hole of your asshole and your pussy, gliding a finger down to give you a soft, gentle graze of his touch. “Oh,” you moan. “Y-You’re teasing me, Ken. C’mon, don’t—“

He hushes you, giving your ass a nibble and making you whimper. “Patience, baby. I need to work this pussy up, don’t I?”

He continues to give you butterfly touches against your pussy until the horny gets the best of him and he begins slowly making out with your cunt. Fortunately for you, you have that effect on him. You manage to turn him into an absolute fiend, pussy-whipping him the more your honey drips down his throat.

“Oh, fuck!” you loudly moan. “Mmm, yes, Kento, fuck! Your mouth is so good!” Your hips and ass grind into his face, riding it like one would a surfboard.

Nanami hums in approval, giving you another spank that makes your pussy gush intensely in his mouth and makes your clit throb. His tongue alternates between teasing your hole and your clit, his lips cushioning one when he can’t get to the other. He can feel your wetness spilling over his chin and lips, making him feel sticky.

But he doesn’t mind. He wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, he would gladly spend the rest of his days underneath you, serving you with his mouth, tongue, and hands.

Especially when your mouth feels so wrapped around his cock. Nanami moans into your cunt, sucking on your pussy lips before pulling away with a wet pop just the way you like. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “I thought I was supposed to be pleasing you.”

You sit up and look back at him, your braids swinging over your shoulder as you give him a sexual, lust-filled look over your shoulder. “We’re pleasing each other. Tonight is about us, baby.”

Nanami can’t argue with that, especially when that throat of yours is talking to him so sweetly. It sucks his entire dick in and flexes around him, massaging each sweet spot along his cock. He gives you the pleasure you give him back, sloppily licking and lapping at your sweet pussy as you ride his face.

Suddenly, you peel yourself away from his cock but still stroke away, pumping him up and down, enchanted by the way his skin stretches along the veiny, erect pole. “I-I can’t take this anymore, Ken,” you moan, desperation in your tone. “I wanna ride you. Can I please?”

You could’ve asked Nanami if you could drain his bank account and he would’ve said yes. He would give anything to to feel this sweet, wet, wonderful pussy wrapped around his cock.

“You don’t have to ask me, sweetheart,” he pants, coming up for air from constantly eating you out without fail. “I wanna feel you too. Fucking give me this.” He glides a finger along your clit, making you shudder.

Without wasting any more time, you take hold of Nanami’s cock while he grasps your hips, letting you take as much time as you need to slide down onto him, rubbing your clit for you as you do. When you finally come down and his cock plunges into the soft, wet walls of your pussy, you both moan in unison as if you’re singing a chorus.

You feel incredible. You feel wonderful. You feel like what he would think heaven feels like. He can’t help but watch you as you ride his cock, drinking in the way you bounce on top of him like a good little fuck-bunny. ”Oh, my God!” you whine at the top of your lungs. “Oh, fuck, Kento! Y-Your dick is so good!”

He grins, that feral, possessive urge to fuck you dumb slinking into his bones and settling there. He can’t help but lose it when you get all slutty and needy like this. “Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, lifting his hips to fuck you back. “Take as much of me as you need. I’m yours.”

He grabs hold of your ass, squeezing it as you grind yourself on top of him like you’re trying hard to make you both cum. “And I’m yours,” you sweetly moan. “I’m yours, Daddy, I promise!”

With those sweet words hanging in the air and the feeling of your wet pussy gripping him, Nanami can’t stop the breathy moans and gasps that leave his lips as your ass grinds against his pelvis as you ride him in your baggy sweater and knee highs.

He sits up suddenly and tears your sweater down, forcing your tits to pop out and be exposed in the firelight. He begins to play with them as you continue to ride him, moaning louder as his fingers pinch and tweak your hard nipples. “Fuck, Nanami!” you gasp.

“Keep goin’,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your ear. “Keep ridin’ that dick for me, baby. Take all of that fuckin’ cock.”

You do as he says, tossing your ass back against him before grinding forward, stimulating your clit with your fingers. At this rate, with your body mist invading his nostrils and how wet you are, he will cum.

“H-Hey, Nanami?” you ask, but it comes out more as a breathless moan.

“Mmm-hmm?”he hums, still too involved with thinking about filling you up with his spunk. He wants to make you cum too. He wants to hear your loud moans echo throughout the cabin as you gush all over his big, fat cock.

“Look up,” you tell him just as your other hand fondles his balls. With a groan of pleasure, Nanami flicks his eyes up above and there, he sees it: a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

Your giggles give you away as a culprit. When did you put that up there? How did he miss that? “We’re supposed to be kissing, aren’t we?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, I can’t do that while I’m back here. Let’s change that.”

You are more than happy to go along with the change. You shriek with laughter as he grips your hips and sits up with you against him. You always love it when he’s a little rough, proving to you time and time again how fast and strong he is. It turns you on and it turns him on too.

He then flips you onto your back and tosses your legs over his shoulders before sliding his cock back home inside of you. “Oh, fuck!” you moan before your voice is cut off by a gasp as he begins to piston himself into the wet, velvet depths of your pussy.

Nanami greedily drinks in the way you writhe and bounce against his cock, your tits jiggling over your sweater. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, heavy pants leaving his lips. “So fuckin’ cute…so mine.”

Stepping into full gooner territory, he slowly rolls his hips against you and strokes your insides with slow, deep thrusts as he works your knee highs off of your feet. Once they are off, he takes one of your cute, candy red apple-painted toes and begins to suck on them.

Your facial expression of pure bliss and ecstasy is enough to nut over. “Daddy,” you whine, gripping his forearms. “Please! Please make me cum!”

Nanami would be glad too. He continues to drill your shit with all of the vigor of a man working overtime, more than dedicated to making you lose your mind over his cock. “I’m so happy you’re mine, baby,” he groans, staring deep into your eyes. “I wanna be with you forever. Wanna fuckin’ marry you.”

“W-What?” you stammer.

As soon as the words are out, they hang suspended in the air like cigarette smoke. Pungent and obvious. Nanami realizes the mistake he has made in the cloudy haze of pleasure and the heat of the moment. ‘Fuck!’ he thinks. That wasn’t at all how he wanted to propose.

You stare up at him with big, soft eyes full of wonder, your plump lips parted in awe. “Kento, is that true? You wanna marry me?” Your voice is soft and barely above a whisper as you ask him.

Nanami can feel his stomach flip. He is now caught and cannot escape this moment. “I’m sorry,”he sighs, slowing down his thrusts for more shallow, gentler ones. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but—”

“You want us to get married?”you interrupt, your voice clearer now. Slowly, he nods, giving in to the truth. “I-I know we haven’t discussed marriage, but I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I planned to propose to you some time on this trip, but please know that you don’t have to say yes right away or—“

“Yes,” you interrupt again. This time, Nanami nearly misses it. He blinks down at you and your overjoyed smile. “What’d you say?” he dumbly asks.

You reach up to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to stare deep into your eyes. “Yes!” you giggle. “Yes, yes, Nanami Kento, I’ll marry you! I want nothing more than to be your wife!”

Your answer washes over him like a wave of warmth. You said yes. You said yes. Nanami’s face hurts from smiling so much and he swoops down to kiss you deep, long, and passionately, bending your knees against your stomach.

“I’m gonna make you so happy, baby,” he murmurs. “I promise you.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re doing real good on that already,” you sweetly whisper. “Now please…fuck your fiancé till she cums. And then fill me up too?”

You look up at him through your lashes, enchanting him and willing him to do all that you wish. “Whatever you want, my love,” he pants and spreads your thighs apart before pistoning his cock into you again and again, fucking you into the floor.

You hold onto him for dear life as he drives himself into you, gripping onto him tighter than a koala bear. Wet, squelching sounds collide with your joined moans of pleasure, only growing more intense as you both fall further into a sea of bliss together.

“I love you,” Nanami whispers against your lips. “I love you so, so much, Y/N.” You whimper into his mouth as your tongues swirl with each other, sloppy and messy. “I-I love you too!” you gasp. “So much!”

“Prove it,” Nanami growls, sitting up to look down at you and your body taking his cock. “Cum for me right now. Give it to me, baby. I know you can do it.”

You know it too. He watches as you frantically rub your gorgeous pussy as he plunges into it over and over again, watching himself disappear between your walls that stroke and pump him, willing him to fill you up. Your pretty mouth forms an O as your orgasm suddenly rocks you, making you shudder and shake as you cum all over his cock.

“Fill me up!” you whine, gripping Nanami’s shoulders. “Cum for me, please, Ken! Give me your baby!”

Nanami never needed to be more persuaded to do something. As his orgasm rises, he hugs you close to him and fucks his cock into you, using your pussy as a toy to chase his high. When it hits, he lets out a long, guttural, desperate groan as he fills you to the brim with his cum. You gasp and wrap your legs around him, locking him against you and taking drop after drop of his spunk.

He pumps you full of him, no doubt breeding you.

As his orgasm finally fades, you both embrace each other for a moment more, sweaty and exhausted from the activity. Slowly, Nanami presses his lips to yours in a soft, loving kiss as your fingers tangle in his blonde hair. “Forever,” he murmurs. “Always you.”

You smile against his mouth and place a kiss on his chin before he finally pulls his soft cock out of you and rolls off of you. His cum drips out of your pussy, coaxing him to lean down between your thighs and lick it up. You weakly moan as his tongue caresses your aching pussy, your body twitching from the overstimulation.

Once he finishes cleaning you up, Nanami lies down next to you on his side while you face him, the both of you fitting against one another like two perfect puzzle pieces. ”That was fantastic,” you sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

“It most definitely was,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand. “But it’s not over yet.” He sits up and reaches for his pants, digging into his pocket.

There, he retrieves the ring box and watches your reaction. You gasp, your eyes alight and your mouth hanging agape from shock. He smiles excitedly, though nervous butterflies still flutter about in his stomach. “I’d be honored to be your husband, Y/N,” he softly says. “Would you give me the honor of being that for you?”

He opens the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring with a silver band that he bought from Kay Jewelers. “Will you marry me?” he asks, blushing pink in the cheeks. “I know you already said yes, but that was when I was fucking you, so—“

“Yes,” you laugh, tossing your arms around him. “Yes, Nanami, I’lll marry you. It would be an honor to be your wife.”

Nanami has never been happier than this moment. Now, you can finally build a life with each other, and maybe, a family. Grinning, he carefully takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your finger. You admire the way it sparkles and glints at you as tears fill your eyes.

“Forever,” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. “Always you.”

Nanami feels his own tears invade his eyes and he swoops you up in a deep kiss that steals the air out of his lungs. The kiss would have led to something more if your phone didn’t ring. “Oops!” you giggle as he peppers your neck in kisses. “Hang on, baby.”

Quickly, you crawl over to the fireplace and reach up on the mantle where your phone is charging. Nanami lies on his side, naked and filled with happiness, propping his head up on his elbow. He watches as you answer the phone, a contagious smile on your face.

“Hey, Yuki!” you brightly chirp.

“Did he do it yet?!” Yuki screams on the other end. You giggle, looking at Nanami and giving him a wink.

“I’m gonna be a wife!” you squeal and the two of you begin to excitedly scream to each other over the phone as Nanami laughs, the happiness contagious and overflowing.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #black writers #my fic shit #jjk smut #my one shots #daddy nanami #nanami x black!reader #nanami x black y/n #nanami x fem!reader #Youtube

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hauntedwitch04 · 2 years ago

Text

Wrong time, right person

Azriel x reader

Words: about 3.3k words

Warnings: smut, smut, Iforgot to say smut, and Azzy himself ;)

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 3: Sex pollen

It's an easy mission they said.

Touch and go, they won't even know you passed by they said.

Assholes. Liars. Bastards. Especially liars though.

This is all I can think of as the Shadowsinger and I find ourselves running through the trees being chased by the guards of the lord we had gone to spy on. Someone must have warned of our arrival, because a few minutes after arriving on the spot, we were already surrounded by enemies. We fought to the end, but were forced to retreat into the woods, seeking safety in escaping through that labyrinth of logs, hoping that those stupid enforcers would not be able to follow us.

It seems like hours that we are running when we finally decide to stop, in the vicinity of a cave, so that we can find refuge from the darkness and our pursuers.

"We finally lost those assholes." My companion comments, sitting back against the cave wall, leaning his head against the rock and showing his neck, leaving it exposed to my gaze.

That simple gesture kindles a fire in me that burns brightly, and I feel compelled to look away. I close my head between my legs and feel Azriel's gaze on me as he approaches. I feel him rest a hand on my shoulder, and I can't help but moan at that simple contact. I feel my cheeks get hot, but he doesn't flinch and asks me worriedly, "Hey, are you okay?" I can't bring myself to look at his face so I nod slightly still with my head between my legs and mutter a nonsensical apology. He still tries for a moment to wrest the truth from my lips, but I don't even flinch for a second. Azriel, seeing then that I did not intend to explain anything, stands up.

"I'm going to gather some wood for the fire, or we'll freeze to death tonight." He says, as he approaches the exit of the cave. I glimpse from below my knees the color of the sky, which is now turning blue.

"Okay, I'll stay here." I tell him in a whisper loud enough for him to hear me. I guess he nods, before walking out of our shelter, leaving me to think about why I took that action earlier. Ever since we escaped from the building I feel a strange sensation permeating my body, but I hadn't given it too much thought before since my priority was to run away from the guards, but it's as if after all that effort that feeling has expanded to the nth degree. It almost feels as if my body no longer belongs to me: I feel a wet sensation between my panties, while the fabric of my T-shirt brushing against the skin of my breasts sends shivers down my spine as my nipples harden against my bra. I squeeze my thighs together trying to ease that sensation, but it all proves futile. I feel a wave of embarrassment rise through my body again, thinking that this is all due only to a small gesture from the Shadowsinger.

Eventually I decide to lie down and try to get some sleep hoping that with a good dose of rest the next day I would wake up feeling better than I am now. I lie down with some difficulty on the floor only to fall unconscious in the arms of Morpheus after a few seconds.

But all is in vain, because in the middle of the night I suddenly wake up all sweaty. I sit up while with one hand I hold my chest. I feel the fire from before writhing in my gut, and on instinct my other hand goes to my center automatically, but realizing my gesture I immediately freeze.

Azriel was sitting in front of the fire, and seeing me feeling so sick he immediately approaches me, touching my forehead to feel if I had a fever. Immediately he retracts his hand feeling how hot I am, and makes me lie of me.

"You try to lie to me one more time about feeling good, and I swear I will never make you go on a mission with me again, and I will make sure Rhysand doesn't either." Says Azriel, as he removes part of my suit, to let the cold night wind cool me down a little. I again find myself letting escape a moan of pleasure as I feel that cool night breeze brush against my warm skin. I feel my nipples becoming turgid as I somehow try to get away from the Shadowsinger's constant touch, which is only making the situation I am in worse.

"I would say now is not the time to lecture me Az." I reply as I try to catch my breath. The Illyrian looks conflicted, but finally stands up and looks me straight in the eye.

"I'll try to do something. You stay here, and in case you give a yell, I'll be back here in less than a second." Says Azriel before disappearing into the night.

I stay looking at the place where he disappeared for a few minutes, trying to distract myself from the feeling of pain and the impossibility of having what my body desires, but finally I give in and begin to slowly run the fingers of my right hand over my center. I immediately feel the pain lessen, but like a drug, this never seems to be enough and I need more and more. My other hand wanders down my body until it rests on my breast and I begin to stimulate one of my nipples. My right hand I run it under my pants and for the first time my fingers come in contact with the wet lips of my pussy.

I remain in that limbo situation for what feels like an eternity experiencing enough pleasure to not die of pain and at the same time not enough to be completely well.

After what seems like hours, I hear Azriel's heavy footsteps getting closer. Quickly I try to look presentable, but immediately the lack of that little antidote causes me more pain than I felt before. I feel twinges in my abdomen that make me bend over, but despite this I look up at the man in front of me, and I cannot help but curse Mother for creating such a perfect being: he has not slept in days, he is drenched in sweat and tired, and yet he continues to be the most attractive person I have ever seen.

He stops to catch his breath, and only then do I realize that he no longer has the cape he was wearing before, in fact now his muscular arms are clearly evident, thanks in part to the tank top he was wearing.

"Where did your cloak go?" I ask, trying to distract myself in a very unsatisfactory way.

"I had to give it to Suriel, to get him to help me understand what you have." He says casually as he approaches me. At that gesture I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me, resting his hands on my shoulders. He then places his lips on my forehead to test whether I still have a fever. That gesture again unleashes a fire capable of burning whole woods in my stomach, and I groan, almost in pain, pushing him away from me.

"Did I hurt you?" Azriel asks worriedly, and I wave him off, so as not to worry him, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"What did Suriel tell you?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, as we were running away you spilled a jar of powders on yourself as we were going through that sorceress's store, remember?" Azriel says, looking at the ground, as if ashamed. I nod, remembering very well that damned jar, which made me sneeze for several minutes.

"You didn't read the label on that jar, did you?" He continues vaguely, so much so that nervous and without patience, I force him to look at me before answering him.

"Of course I didn't have time to look at it Az, go straight to the point." I say impatiently. His cheeks turn red, and he stammers something under his breath that I can't understand at first, so I ask him to repeat it. He raises his eyes and fixes his in mine, before repeating what he had tried to say before.

"It was sex pollen, the one that spilled on you." He says finally, and I feel the blood freeze in my veins, still in shock from the revelation he threw at me. "And according to Suriel, the only way to keep you from dying right now is to...well you know, go along with what your instincts are asking you to do."

"Thank you for explaining in such a nice way that I have to masturbate Az, really very nice." I say almost angry at him, even though I know I'm not really. I'm partly angry at myself for putting myself in that situation, but I can't do anything about it now, and now I'm also in danger of dying.

"Hey, I'm trying my best." He replies, scratching the back of his neck with his right hand, looking embarrassed.

"I know, I know Az, it's just-" I pause for a moment, trying to find a way to say it. I take a big breath and keep talking. "I've already tried touching myself, alone, down there, but it didn't do much good." I confess in a low voice, hoping he won't hear it, but unfortunately Shadowsinger's hearing is too acute to miss my confession. He freezes for a moment as if he is about to reason out what to do, then speaks again.

"I know." Azriel says in a guilty tone.

"What do you mean you know?" I ask shocked as I look at him, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Well the Suriel may or may not have told me that you would not be healed this way. "He continues as he watches the fire casting beams of light on the walls of the cave we are in. I stop again, and begin to reflect on all that I knew about these powders as I feel the pain getting worse and worse. By now I can feel my panties completely wet, as every single contact with what's around me unleashes a series of shivers that reaches to my core.

"I thought that was enough...well you get it. In all the books dealing with pollen with potential danger they say that's enough, be satisfied." I try to explain, as I draw a groan caused by my shifting which resulted in clenching my thighs together.

"I thought so too, but he said this doesn't count if-" He freezes as if he cannot find the words. I, growing more and more impatient, ask him aloud to continue.

"Az just doesn't seem like the time to be shy." I urge him to speak.

"He said it's not enough when you're in close proximity to your mate." He blurts out, standing up sharply. I squint my eyes not believing what my ears have just heard, but I immediately understand that feeling that has long been building in my heart toward my mate. Well I would say more than friend. I feel something forming in my chest that takes shape through a golden thread extending from my sternum to that of Azriel, who is currently turned his back to me as he looks out of the cave as if in the same there is the answer to this problem. Immediately I feel that silly happiness I felt at having found my mate, and that he was the man I actually loved all my life already disintegrating under the idea that he didn't want all that.

"You don't have to." I whisper, in the grip of ever-worsening cramps, but right now they seem like nothing more than mild pain compared to what my heart was feeling.

"You don't understand, if we don't do this, you will die and I won't let you die." He counters by turning around and dropping to his knees at my height looking me straight in the eye.

"I don't want your pity." I reply harshly as I try to get out of his sight, unable to do much given my condition, because I don't want him to see my suffering and the pain his rejection has triggered in me.

"No, I don't want my mate, the woman I've loved all my life to die and I'm pissed off at Mother because I didn't want it to happen like this between us the first time. I wanted to do everything right, take you to dinner, confess under the stars and then make love to you in my bed between the sheets I had specially chosen your favorite color, not on the floor in a stupid cave after risking our lives! When I knew you were my mate I wanted nothing more than to thank Mother, fate or whoever, but now I hate them because they had to pass the anger they vent on me to you, and I don't want to see you suffer because of me." He blurts out as he begins to walk around the cave again, then finishes his speech by looking at me. A strange light sparkles in his eyes, they look like the eyes of someone who loves to the point of being sick, to the point of suffering, and that love right now is directed at me. I can't believe his words, but that connection makes me feel that everything he just said is the truth, and immediately the happiness I lost a few moments ago returns, along with hope.

"We can still do it." I confess in a whisper and he immediately turns to me, his eyebrows furrowed over his beautiful eyes. "We can do it once we get home. We'll tell Rhys they can go screw him and his missions, and we'll take some time to figure this out and get used to it, and we can do everything you just said, because believe me I want to do all that with you."

"But?" He asks as he approaches.

"But now all I need is you fucking me as hard as you can in this shitty place so that I can stop dying and talk to you without having to moan every time." I say, as I grab his shirt with one hand, since he was now close enough to me, and kiss him with all the passion in my body.

I feel like I can finally breathe again as my lips on his, and I can already feel the pollen fade as the urge to feel Azriel inside me increases without measure.

"As my lady wishes." Whispers the Illiryan on my lips as we pull away from that breathless kiss. I immediately feel his lips graze my neck, to start biting and sucking on it as if his life depended on it. Every single movement of his lips and tongue made me touch the sky with one finger as I moaned his name as if I were a priestess intent on making a prayer and he the deity I believe in.

His lips then move from my neck to my breasts, where he begins to suck on my nipples like a hungry child. I bring my hands into his hair and pull them every time his tongue touches one of my sensitive spots.

"Baby doll, if you pull my hair one more time, I don't think I'll be able to keep myself from fucking you so hard I'll leave your silhouette on the floor of this place." He says pulling away for a moment to kiss my lips again.

My hands move down, and I begin to open his pants, while he begins to open mine.

"All words, I want to see some action." I reply, trying not to give away how much his words had affected me. He smirks, realizing that he actually made a mark with what he said, just brushing against my panties and feeling how wet they are.

"You will regret saying what you just said baby doll." Az replies, as with a quick gesture he enters of me. I didn't even notice that he had moved both my and his panties, but right now I don't care.

Feeling his cock inside me is an otherworldly experience. I can feel the walls of my pussy tighten around his sizable member as he tries to stay as still as possible to get me used to his size.

"Tell me if it hurts, or if you feel like you can't take it anymore, okay?" He asks softly, as he kisses my sweaty forehead. I feel the cramps from the sex pollen return, and I groan before I answer him.

"Az, I can't take it anymore, either you move or I swear I'm going to flip you over and start doing what I need to do on my own." I say, trying to move my hips slightly and create some friction, but he stops me, resting his hips on mine and giving that silly little smile that makes him so sexy.

"Oh, I can't wait to see you ride my cock, but I'd say leave that experience for another time. Tonight is just for you, and for your pleasure." He comments and then begins to move.

Immediately I feel every single part of the universe fall into place as he gradually increases his speed. My body seems to be persecuted everywhere with shivers of pleasure as his lips rest lightly on my breasts again. Between his mouth, his cock, and the sex pollen in my body my orgasm seems to come with a speed I never expected.

"Please Az, don't stop." I say groaning, feeling the pleasure grow more and more every second.

"Oh baby I could never deprive myself of the feeling of my cock against your cervix. You're going to come, aren't you?" She whispers back as I try to nod. "Then we'll come together love."

"Yes, please Az fill me." I continue, and I feel her muscles tense even more under my touch.

"Honey don't challenge me, you know I could fuck you so hard you wouldn't walk tomorrow even if you prayed to Mother." He counters by increasing his speed.

"It would certainly be worth it." I answer as I now feel I am on the edge of oblivion, just one thrust would be enough to sink into pleasure. I hold my breath for a moment as I feel him move for the last time before my body begins to move in convulsions of pleasure, and my vision becomes totally blurred.

I feel him releasing all his semen inside me shortly after coming, and I feel him lying on top of me, relaxing.

We stay like that for a few minutes before he starts laughing. I look at him not understanding why he is laughing until he explains himself.

"God, I guess in the end I will have Rhys to thank for this mission." Whispers Az.

"Actually it wasn't that bad." I comment, laughing in turn.

"Let's say it had its upsides." He replies with a wink. "But don't think it's over here, wait until you get home, and when I'm done with you the only thing you'll remember is my name."

Yes I would say we definitely have Rhys to thank.

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#hauntedwitch04's writing #acotar x reader #imagine acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #kinktober 2023

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