#Ferals Mini Serie

[lady-stormwind]

Scaredy Cat

Ferals Mini Serie Scaredy Cat by Amanda Visell

My Dunny collection here

[dmercer91]

pretty girl, me94

in which mark has a little bit of an unwarranted jealousy problem you help him get over. (18+!!)

part of the sophomores best girl mini series! also set in last season, a couple days after mackie's fic (2.6k)

she’s long awaited, she’s hot, and she’s not proofread!! (typical). i hope she lived up to the excitement, i love you all, i need to pack and i need to go tf to sleep

jealousmarkjealousmarkjealousmarkjealousmarksdhsjdhsdjdh

to the public you were mark's. it made the most sense- he'd probably be around until his graduation, at which point the arrangement you had with the sophomore's would probably be over- but it would still prevent people begging the question of why you hadn't followed any of the other's to their respective draft cities despite the lack of any 'breakup'

he was touchier with you than the rest, as well. so being his 'girlfriend' had allowed for that to translate well when the group of you were out, for him to stay mindless about his fingers twirling the ends of your hair and his palm having a home on your thigh.

to top it all off- it was so embarrassingly evident that, although he liked sharing you in general, sometimes his mind went to places it shouldn't, and sometimes sharing was the last thing he wanted when it came to you.

so at a party where you and mackie had been stuck to one another like glue, partnering in beer pong, sharing a cup when nobody was paying attention, passing fleeting touches once everybody was too far gone to notice, mark could only sulk.

the biggest downside of being your so called boyfriend was that, no matter how badly he wanted to leave, it would look a little wrong for him to ditch his love at a frat house with absolutely no warning.

so he pulled you aside, your giggles stinging a little as you fell into his chest, looking up at him in the dim lighting like he was something of a god, whisking you to heaven, or, in this case, the entrance hallway of the most trashed building possibly ever

"it's time to go home now, baby," he murmured, wrapping you in his jacket, knowing you refused to bring any warm one, arguing it ruined your outfit.

you pouted, clutching the hem of his shirt and trying to pull him back to where some of the hockey team had stationed themselves

"but i'm having fun, marky," your genuine displeasure at his words had his jaw ticking, shaking his head at you.

"is that how this works now? you bossin' me around, baby?" he tilted his head and the look in his eyes made your mouth water. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, shook your head and watched in real time as his face got more laxed, his body getting closer to yours.

he gave you a lazy grin, pressing a kiss to your lips and leading you out the door.

"we're gonna go home n' you're gonna be good, yeah?" he whispered, earning a nod as you tried to lean in for more kisses. he hummed, accepting the gesture but quickly pulling back to get you onto the sidewalk and towards the house.

you pawed at his arm, an attempt to get his attention back on you. he quickly eyed you before deciding to lean into his jealousy, see if you caught on and see what you'd do about it.

"look who's just gettin' all the attention from anyone who'll spare it tonight, huh?" you blushed, shaking your head timidly

you stepped in front of him so he’d stop walking, only for him to lift you into his arms and continue on without a thought

you giggled, tucking your face into his neck. "just want your attention, marky," you gave him a sultry look, watching as his tongue poked the bottom of his cheek in frustrated contemplation

"don't seem to want any of me when mackie's around," he stated, feeling your nails scratch at his bicep absentmindedly.

now that you thought about it, you were starting a little bit of a pattern. you'd be caught up in marks lap, giggling at everything he said and being the perfect, attentive girlfriend. then, mackie would come into a conversation and you'd be entirely distracted.

the first time, his food had come to the door and you never bothered to come back to mark after bringing it upstairs. tonight, he asked for you to partner him in games and you spent the whole night looking at mackie the way mark felt he deserved instead.

"then you're always runnin' around the house in luke's clothes, snuggling up with him on movie nights, sleeping in his bed," he continued, despite your lips on his jaw and neck, nipping at his skin

luke always preferred softer affection from you to cheer him up unless he was particularly angry- which meant him dragging you into his lap and hugging onto you, giving you his clothes so they'd smell like your perfume and having you fall asleep on his chest.

"best of all, ethan's been taking you out to lunch dates when you're meant to be my girl, not his," he walked through the front door just as you were about to explain to him that he seemed afraid to be affectionate with you other than to sleep with you or touch you, and that's why you kept getting whisked away.

the other boys had found a nice middle ground of relief and relationship, and you never denied any of them what they'd asked of you- mark had been stuck on relief, and always seemed to try and catch you when the rest had already whisked you away.

"m' not tryin' to pick favourites, i promise, marky. wanna have a thing with you, too. i don't know what you'd like, though," he grumbled, like your explanation hadn't quite met his standards for an excuse

"right now?" he dropped you on his bed, peeled his shirt off. "i'd like to fuck you,"

you giggled, pulling him down on top of you and tugging at his hair, kissing him and letting him tug your shorts off. his hands slid down your waist and hips to find your panties, only to feel that you'd gone without.

he groaned into your mouth and you smiled. one hand abandoning his hair to scratch down his back.

he moved off you, earning a needy whine and your arms reaching out at him. he smirked, sitting at the edge of his bed and nodding for you to come over to him while he ditched his pants and boxers

your response was to start kneeling in front of him, only for him to shake his head. "on my lap, pretty baby," he gripped your waist, pulling you onto his thigh, pressed tight to his chest.

"think m' gonna make you work for it," he smiled, looking in front of you at the full length mirror, watching as you stared at the two of you. you licked your lips slightly, watching the way he was holding you.

"what?" you murmured, finally looking into his eyes, a little distracted by his hands and the way you looked.

he chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

"said i'm gonna make you work for it, baby." his hands moved to your hips, teasing for a second before he lifted you forward and then dragged you back, bare cunt dragging on the muscle of his thigh and making your legs clench together

he gave you an expectant look through the mirror, watching with a smirk as you slowly rocked forward, a shaky whine spilling from your lips when his leg tensed under you

your hand planted on his other leg, nails digging into his skin as you rocked yourself as well as you could manage, a sticky mess building on his leg from your arousal

"the boys and i.. we talk about you, you know?.." he trailed, leaving kisses on your shoulder while you moaned at the though of them talking about the things they'd all done with you.

"and none of them can shut up about how well you respond.. when they tell you how good you are for them," your core pulsed, hips stuttering in your pace.

you weren't quite sure where he was going with his rant, which side of the coin he'd choose.

"is that true, pretty girl? you like it when they pretend you're this perfect angel, like you're not the prettiest little slut for us?" your eyes fluttered closed, and reopened to look into his own.

both. he was choosing both sides of the coin.

"mark, mark-" your grip on his leg tightened and he hummed, serving as a repetition to his question and not an acknowledgement of how close you were, nor your whimpers of his name.

"answer me," he murmured, bringing a hand in front of you and making light circles over your clit.

"m' a good girl. good for you, always. s' not- ah, not pretend" you breathed out, leaning your head back on his chest and looking up at him from there, rather than in the mirror

"please," you gasped, and you didn't even know yourself whether you were pleading with him to confirm you were good for him, or just to let you cum. though, one would probably result in the other.

"oh, look at you.. you do like it, don't you?" he teased, and you nodded obediently, peering up at him with all the hope you could muster.

though apparently your hope was for nothing, cause he moved his fingers away from your clit and grabbed your hips roughly, stopping your movement and effectively pressing pause on any stimulation you'd been feeling.

"no, no- was so close," you whispered, tears collecting at your waterline and both of your hands trying to pry marks off your body so you could go back to fucking yourself on him.

"shhh, pretty baby. m' gonna take my hands away and you're gonna sit nice and still, yeah? don't be a fucking brat, now," his voice was low and stern, your core throbbing against him and earning a chuckle

he hummed in satisfaction when you halted your attempts at forcing his hand, and you watched patiently as his forearm slayed over your stomach and he lifted your whole body with a one handed grip on your waist.

using his other hand, he aligned himself under you, pulling you down onto his cock and dropping you so that he immediately bottomed out.

you squealed, squeezing him so hard that he grunted and pried your thighs apart, slapping the inside of one hard enough for you to come back to yourself and try and relax your pelvis.

you gulped when you finally got used to the sudden intrusion, eyes fluttering shut and hips rocking gently.

he gripped your jaw, eyes jolting open as he forced you to look into the mirror in front of you.

"i told you to sit still" he barked, and you were smart enough to will away every aching desire to squirm.

since the last time you'd acknowledged yourself, you found that the lust drunk bliss on your face had increased tenfold and that you were now dripping down your thighs and onto marks, despite the two no longer rubbing against one another.

you also found that mark was staring, as well. drinking in every inch of exposed skin and massaging at your thighs when his eyes spent far too long focused between them, eyeing the way he was pressed into you and how stuffed you looked.

his arm made it's way back over your stomach, fingers gently grazing the imprint he was leaving on your stomach on their way across to your waist.

his voice was deep and crisp in your ear when he started to fuck up into you, one hand pulling you up, slamming you back down, and the other placing your thighs over his knees so they'd stay spread while he moved to paw at your tits, pinch your nipples.

"have you ever let any of us come inside?" and he sounded so calm that it hurt your head, confusion and fear melting together into a look that you gave him through the glass of his mirror.

".. s' against the rules," was all you said, shaky and wanting so desperately to grip onto him but wanting to be well behaved far more, so choosing to stay as he put you.

"that's not what i asked, pretty baby. i asked if you've let anyone," his fingers stopped messing with your nipple, instead his whole palm enveloped your left breast and the lines of his hand soaked in the scattered beat of your heart.

"no," you whispered, and it couldn't have been a more evident lie even if he hadn't felt the skip in the rhythm beating through your chest. he slammed up into you particularly roughly and you struggled not to scream, your eyes fluttering and tears dripping down your cheeks.

"no?" he asked again, his condescending tone ringing in your ears. if only you'd known he knew before his question even fell from his lips, you would've apologized rather than lying.

"so.. what was it, that you were begging mack to do the other night? promisin' him you wouldn't tell, saying you'd been so good," he tilted his head, the hand over your heart sneaking up around your throat, keeping your head straight so you'd look him in the eye.

"nothin'.. nothing, mark, i swear. just know he likes me talking, beggin'.. wanted to be good t' him," you cried, and he let out a dry chuckle.

"good girls don't lie.. n' i thought that's all you wanted, was for me to validate that little fantasy in your head where you're obedient, and sweet, and the best girl, and then.. you lie to me? m' starting to think the boys are liars, too. tellin' me you're this angel baby.." he trailed off, tutting breathily.

"if you're a good girl, you'll make it up to me, right, pretty baby?" he asked, coming up with his very own resolution for the problem he'd stuck you in.

"i'll- m' gonna make it up to you, swear it," your lead lolled back onto his shoulder from how dazed you were and he quickly perched your head right back up.

"gonna let me come inside? need to- i need it. need to know what it feels like to fill you up, baby," he squeezed your throat a little, your walls clenching around him and your eyes flickering between open and closed. you'd never been so loud, so twitchy for him and he was loving every last second.

you nodded, almost frantically, staring at where you and mark connected in the mirror while he hummed in satisfaction and gave you one last, rough thrust, leaking into you and dropping his hand from your neck, squeezing every inch of skin he could reach and moaning gently in your ear.

"there's a good girl. prettiest fucking whore f' me," he murmured, smiling blissfully when your legs made their way over his knees, clamping together while your walls pulsated around him.

you squeezed your eyes shut hard and clawed at his arm, shaking against his chest and moans spilling violently from red, swollen lips.

you heaved in his arms, chest rising and falling prominently while he used light circles on your clit to bring you down from an intense orgasm.

his hands slid to your hips, ready to pull you off him and you whined in retaliation, turning to nestle your face into his chest.

he smirked, keeping you taught to himself while he laid back, keeping you in top of him and petting your hair out of your face.

"mh. was always so annoying you never wanted cuddles, so warm, big," you babbled, clinging on tighter.

"always wanted cuddles, pretty baby. didn't know how to ask for 'em."

"kay, well. you're an idiot," he raised an eyebrow, adjusting his hips and earning an oversensitive whine

"watch yourself"

[casually-slips-into-coma]

coming on here to say that i watched lambs of god for sam reid a few months ago and it was truly a 10/10 fucked up gothic fever dream. highly recommend

[depravedangelbaby]

ohmyg-d i absolutely love firbolgs too!! i’m basically a firbolg honestly

-feral lesbian anon

I've only played a firbolg once before, so I'm very excited to play another!! I recently played a half orc too n that was sooo much fun. I like playing tall PCs lol I'm a lil halfling irl!!

[thinkinonsense]

34+35𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: do the math.

wc: 1k+

positions mini-series masterlist

logan didn't know what he was going to do with you. such a needy little rabbit. that's the only thing he could compare you to, a fuckin' rabbit.

"slow down, sweets." logan mutters against your glossy lips.

all day, you were longing for logan's touch. the second you heard his truck pull into the driveway, you practically jump into his big strong arms. he could smell your arousal down the street. you wanted nothing more than for logan to bring out his inner animal, but he was going to make you work for it.

you dragged him into your shared bedroom once he shrugged off his suit jacket. logan noticed how clean the bedroom looked, the only things on the nightstand were his cigars and one of your pretty coffee mugs. your bedsheets were the same colors as your lingerie, soft lilac and white.

"let me get a look at ya', princess." logan says in your ear while you try to climb in his lap. instead, you give him a little spin, his hands never leaving your hips. "look like a doll."

you smile at him then shove him roughly on his back, climbing on top of the older man. by no means were you stronger than logan but when you get like this, he wonders if you were the one with the adamantium skeleton.

"been thinking about you all day long..." you say, clawing at his white button-down. logan chuckles, moving his hands further south on your body.

"whatcha been thinking 'bout?" he asks, squeezing your ass.

"fucking you."

logan loves when you get like this. you bat your pretty lashes up at him while saying the filthiest things. even in his older state, he liked keeping up with someone younger.

"i'm not sure, princess." logan sighs. "i'm pretty tired from work."

"we try something different if you want?" you suggest sweetly running your fingers through his grey hair.

"like what?"

without hesitation, you get up and straddle his chest backward. his button-down was opened exposing his toned stomach. logan wasn't up to date on modern-day sex terms, he knew what he liked and pretty much stuck to it unless you introduced him to something. what? he's old fashion.

"so, you're just gonna sit on my-" logan's words died in his throat the moment you started unbuckling his belt.

you pull out his half-hard cock and begin slowly pumping him. logan couldn't believe the position you put yourself in but he sure was thankful for it. as you traced one of his veins with your tongue, logan pulled your hips closer to his mouth, messily making out with your cunt over the material of your lilac panties. this made you wiggle your hips annoyed by his teasing.

"please..." you huff, taking him out of your mouth to beg. "no teasing, lo..."

logan tugs you back against him roughly so he can slurp up the wetness that coated the now dark purple material. when you begin to kitten lick him, smacking the tip against your tongue, logan tosses his head back and lets out a feral moan.

"sorry, sweetheart." he groans, extending one claw to cut your panties off of you then putting it back away.

"logan!" you gasp, wanting to scold him.

suddenly, you feel him spread you open with his fingers without warning, logan spits directly onto your cunt. butterflies flutter inside of you at his dirty action. logan then switch's between sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue, savoring the taste of you.

"f-fuck, lo..." you moan around his length while scratching at his thick thighs. you can feel him grin against your most intimate area.

logan releases you from his mouth with a tiny pop. he can see you pulsing, needing to be filled. within seconds, logan takes two fingers into his mouth coating them with spit then angles them at your entrance.

"ugh, fuck!" you feel like the wind was just knocked from your lungs. logan was relentless, gradually increasing his pace while your forehead rested against one of his thighs.

"thought this was supposed to be 50/50 effort, sweetheart?" logan teases, hitting that spongey spot inside of you with his fingers repeatedly. "gonna make your old man do all the work-"

"shut up." you groan, placing your cunt back against his mouth.

a small whimper falls from logan's lips, breaking down his tough man persona. you adored when the 'big bad wolf' became a submissive little play thing.

logan can feel you clenching around his fingers, sucking him in completely. he wasn't far behind but he needed more. through blurry vision, you can see logan bend his knees and lift his hips so he's hitting the back of your throat at his own pace; the tip kissing your esophagus.

"such a good fuckin' girl..." logan groans against your lips.

neither of you could warn the other about your approaching orgasms. eyes full of stars when suddenly logan coats your throat while you grind against his face, his soaked beard leaving faint red scratches on your inner thighs.

you must have laid on him for a moment too long after because logan playfully slaps your ass, sending you scurrying away from him.

"how was that?" you pant, facing him normally again with a fucked out smile.

"fuckin' amazing, princess," he says, grabbing your chin and pulling you into a kiss. you straddle logan's waist again, feeling him harden again underneath you.

"that was quick." you giggle against his lips.

"mhm, think you'll be able to keep up?" he challenges you.

"watch it, old man..." you smirk, lifting up and placing him at your entrance. "or you're gonna need a seatbelt when i ride it."

as you sink down on him, logan was torn on where to steady his gaze. he wanted to stare at where the two of you were connected but when your hand start pawing at his dog tags desperately, he knew the answer was to look up at your adorable fucked out face.

"you doin' alright there sweetheart?" logan purrs underneath you, wrapping a hand around your hair and tugging softly. your stamina always impressed him, how you could keep going and going was beyond his old fragile state. "bet you want your old man to take over, huh? fuck you nice and good like you deserve? know you want it, baby."

logan knew the best way to get into your head and your panties were with his words. it always worked, until now.

"what did i tell you earlier, baby?" you taunt him, reaching over and grabbing your ripped underwear to shove in his mouth. "shut up."

"oh, fuck" logan moans against the material while your hips bounce frantically against his; shaking the bed frame and banging it against the wall.

thank god, the two of you live deep in the woods or else your neighbors would constantly think there's an earthquake coming when the two of you were fucking. you feel logan twitch inside of you, letting you know he's close.

"let go, lo..." you moan, leaning down to his ear level while he desperately smacks your hips into his, chasing his high. "you know you wanna cum inside it."

logan's hips snapped, drooling all over your panties as your cunt sucks him in. his warmth coats your walls pearly white while one of his hands comes down to play with your clit until your moaning vulgarly in his ear.

"r-r-right there, lo..." you whimper, biting down on his shoulder as you cum around him. "please, please don't stop!"

neither of you wanted to move once both of you come down from your highs. you pull your ripped up panties out of logan's mouth before slumping down on top of his chest.

"tired, princess?" he chuckles.

"mhm..." you sigh, getting comfortable against him.

"look who's getting old now, hm?" logan teases, flipping you over carefully onto the sheets.

"stay..."

"i'm just clean you up." he assures you. "get some rest. i'll be here."

those were the last words you heard before falling asleep in his arms.

[evilgwrl]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ evilgwrl presents:

LT. Simon “Ghost” Riley

The Masterlist

MDNI

Series:

Girl Next Door (Neighbour!Simon):

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

Mini-Series:

You Want a Divorce?: One, Two

One-Shots:

Can You Ride?

Summary: Simon can’t wait to get home

Paris (feat. König)

Summary: You were bored at home so your roommates give you a visit to the Eiffel Tower!

Back Door

Summary: Simon wanted to explore more than just your pussy

Drabbles:

Neighbour!Simon Riley

ExHusband!Simon Riley

Massages with Simon

Love at First Sight

One Bed

Roommates (feat. Soap)

Teeth Marks

Period Sex (Requested)

Boyfriend!Simon

Deep Throat

Double Dicked (feat. Price)

Enamoured

Competition (feat. Soap)

Reading to your Daughter

Pussy Eating

Simon VS Ghost

Barista

Wrong Hole (Requested)

Somnophilia

Mommy (Requested)

Possessive

Roommate!Simon

Jealousy

Home is You

Feral

I'm Home

A/B/O Dynamics

Alpha!Simon

Dark!Simon Riley (DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT):

Stalker!Simon Riley

Always Watching

IT Tech!Simon

Stranger

Want more?

Poly!141

König

Captain John Price

[avoxrising]

The Feral One - Prologue

I had an idea for a mini Finnick x reader Tumblr series so I wrote a short prologue to gage y’all’s interest. Lmk if y’all want to see more!

“I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the games,” Haymitch states as the District 12 team sits down to eat.

“Last year was child’s play,” Haymitch continues. “This year, you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

“All right. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.

“That means you’re gonna have to have some allies,” he replies.

Peeta starts, “ok I think that if we…”

“Whoop,” Haymitch interrupts. “You’re not the problem.”

“No,” Katniss states as she stares at the pair, seemingly upset that they even suggested allies.

“Look,” Haymitch sighs. “You’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.”

“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss states.

“Do it your own way,” Haymitch tells her. “But I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is going to be to hunt you down. Both of you.”

“Katniss come on,” Peeta sighs.

“How could any of us even trust each other?” she asks.

“It’s not about trust,” Haymitch responds. “It’s about staying alive.”

After the group eats they move to the lounge to watch the recap of the reapings. Haymitch proceeds to give his tributes a rundown of their competition.

“Cashmere and Gloss,” Haymitch states. “Brother and sister, District 1. They won back to back games, capital favorites, lots of sponsors. They will be lethal.”

He clicks to the next clip. “And the other half of the career pack, Brutus and Enobaria.”

“What’s with her teeth?” Katniss asks, noticing the abnormally sharp teeth in her mouth.

“She had them filed into fangs so she could rip peoples throats out,” Haymitch explains.

“She’s committed, I’ll give her that,” Peeta declares. Haymitch moves on to the next clip.

“Wiress and Beetee,” he states. “Not fighters, but brilliant and weird, real tech savvy. He won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once.” The tributes absorb this information as Haymitch moves on to the next clip.

He moves onto the next clip and Katniss speaks out. “Finnick Odair right?”

“Yes, he won his games at 14, youngest, ever, extremely humble,” Haymitch replies.

“You’re kidding,” Katniss gapes.

“Yes, I’m kidding,” Haymitch sighs. “He’s a peacock, a total preener. But he’s the capital’s darling, and they love him here; charming, smart, and very skilled at combat, especially in water.”

“What about weaknesses?” Peeta ask and Haymitch skips back to the escort calling out the female tribute’s name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Haymitch states. “Known in the capital as ‘the feral one’, winner of the 69th games”.

Katniss and Peeta shrink deeper into the couch.

“Isn’t she, um, a serial killer?” Peeta stutters.

“Well technically most of the victors are,” Haymitch responds. “But yes, she has killed outside of the games. She’s a deeply misunderstood creature.”

“Why is she Finnick’s weakness?” Katniss asks.

“She was Finnick’s first victor that he mentored,” Haymitch explains. “It’s hard not to get attached to the ones you bring home, especially your first. However, those two are a bit more complicated. I’d says it’s probably more of a… situationship… than an actual relationship but if you mess with either of them I can assure you that you’ll be dead pretty quickly.”

“So we should avoid them,” Peeta states, taking a mental note of Haymitch’s explanation.

“No,” Haymitch states, confusing his tributes. “The best move is to ally with them. They’re your biggest competition in the arena besides the careers, but they’re arguably more reliable and you don’t want to get on her bad side. They call her feral for a reason.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of death, being hunted, vulgar language, price in a tunic (yes this is a warning by itself), awkwardness, nakedness, suggestive (?), implied age gap, etc.

A/N: I'm feral over this AU, ong. A million kisses to the Anon that brought this to my attention-btw this is definitely becoming a mini-series.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your family told you to never go beyond the deep waterways of the cove, never to brave the open sea. Times were changing. The Harpies, when they weren't as shrewd about their feathers getting wet, would fly down from their tall mountain spires and tell stories—ones about the hunting ships. 

They’d seen them, they said as your family listened on in horror from the rocks, dragging all manner of Merfolk up from the waters in large nets made of iron and hard steel. Spears that tore scales to take for profit. In other instances, the unlucky individuals were even sold to royalty to become showpieces in displays of high wealth and standing. 

But it wasn’t just Merfolk. It was all manner of mystical beast and being. Hunted. Sold. Humans, your parents had told you, were not friends. They were greedy and selfish; more than often cruel. 

And so they started to do the same unto them. Your family would lure them with their voices to the ends of the great ships that were brought close to your cove—watch as they hurled themselves from the sides into the grasp of the ruthless waves. They did it for you, they explained. To try and keep you safe. 

For years they did this until they were gone too. 

Suddenly the cove seemed more like a prison than a safe spot, and the Harpies no longer came to converse or tell news. Killed or taken you had no idea, but it was becoming fairly obvious that even interactions with your own people were impossible. Were you the only mermaid left? It was a good question to ask and one that you could never answer. All that you knew was that you had been alone for a very long time. 

That was, before you first laid eyes on the fisherman. 

You watch him now, yet again, from behind the sharp jutting body of the rocks; the water delicately bobs you up and down as your vibrant tail hangs limp in its otherworldly throes. Eyes softly wide and mouth parted in wonder. 

He’s walking along the deck of a small ship—not the large and intimidating ones of the other men that sail the seas—with a strong form. A hat on top of his head of brown hair and a well-trimmed beard of the same color made him look gruff in appearance. 

Your hands shift over the sharp black stone, and the nakedness of your top is covered by the long strands of your wet, uncut, hair. This man wore a plain white tunic and brown pants stuffed into large boots. Even as far as you were, you heard the soft whistled tune dancing in the shell of your ears. Delicate eyes watch, head slowly peeking out more and more. 

He was tending to the nets he had on the bow and as you studied him you were mystified. 

“Fascinating,” you whisper, unknown emotions swirling in you. 

His muscles strain, large and expansive shoulders lead down to a tapered waist; legs that you blink at before glancing at your tail under the rippling water. There’s a large grunt before the fisherman’s net is thrown in a beautiful arc, hitting the water with a slap and a spray of liquid as it begins to sink. Startled, you flinch back, gasping loudly.

With a racing heart, you quietly scold yourself for the childish reaction, flicking your tail in annoyance. Slowly but surely, your head peaks back out with water dripping down the flesh of your shoulders. 

But when you shift back into the open, you find a deep set of stormy blue eyes digging into your field of view. You freeze, seeing his lids go back in surprise and shock as your jaw slackens. A cold fear enters your veins at the new attention brought to you but you find yourself unable to look away. 

The Fisherman is the picture of utter stillness, just as you are, like twin mountains of ancient stone. Your nervousness only seems to grow as he doesn’t do anything—teachings and lessons about those who walk on two legs and sail in ships poking holes into your mind. 

Gawking and spying were one thing…but being seen meant death. You swallow stiffly and go tense, shifting to half-hide behind your rock. 

“Oh, no,” your mouth murmurs, self-hatred and fear lining the tone. “Oh, no, no, no.”

And yet the Fisherman had not moved, nor made any attempt to pull his sinking net back into his boat. Fish panic in the rope grave they’ve been ensnared in. His eyes….why are they so curiously locked on you?

You spare one last glance before shoving away from the rock and disappearing under the water with a violent splash; making off for the deep underwater caves that offer salvation. 

When you’re down there—in the darkness with only silent ripples of light to guide your eyes—you find it hard to stop thinking about the Fisherman and his strong jaw. His genuine awe at the sight of you. 

Had he not heard the stories of the Merfolk of this region? Or…or were you truly the last of your kind? 

The thought troubles you, and, riddled with anxiety, you go over to your store of shiny trinkets that you’d collected over the years; grabbing them in your hands and fiddling with them to try to put your mind at ease. The walls of the caves bare down on you and you hope you’d not just signed over your own death warrant. 

Maybe he’ll go away, you offer yourself, face tight and tail curled close, maybe he’ll be afraid and won’t come back. 

It was a pointless belief. They always come back—driven by greed or a righteous authority. Humans were cruel. 

But your brain goes back to stormy blue eyes like pebbles and softly parted lips. Orbs glinting with wonder and shock. No attempt to shout or grab for the large knife you’d seen strapped to his belt. 

A fisherman, you told yourself, who hesitated to go after the biggest fish of them all. 

You didn’t quite know if that made you more afraid or more intrigued. 

—

It was only after you’d spent three weeks in the underwater caves of the cove that you’d finally decided the coast was clear. You’d cautiously gone back through the winding seaweed and schools of marine life to hide in your little rock fort; afraid but brave. From under the waves in the calm of the water you’d scanned the surface for the shadows of a boat, anything to indicate that the man had returned. 

Nothing. 

Tension leaves your shoulders and you travel upwards, vibrant scales shimmering like jewels. You were quite close to the mainland, you would say, back to the shore to look out over the open entrance to your home. At the first sign of danger, the rocks would be your first point of shelter if you wished to remain hidden but continue to watch.

Ears popping as your head surfaces, you only look out with the water swaying below your eyes; nose and chin hidden. Sand from behind you shifts.

“Knew I’d seen something, then, eh?” Your heart lurches—brain flashing to hooks and nets; you shove yourself back under the water with a garbled gasp.

Fish around your form dash away as you frantically look back at the surface, your scales shining as the light hits them. Fingers tense in the water, you shift your body so that your form has its back to the floor of the cove and breathe quickly in your own mermadian way with shaking fins. 

On the very edge of the shore, you see the shadow of a sitting body in the sand. He hadn’t moved, this Fisherman. Was waiting as inanimate as an empty shell.

What had he said? You ask yourself, hair disturbed by the flow of the waves above your head. A gentle back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, the large muscle in your breast slows itself and a nervous curiosity grows.

Yet still, the shadow stays completely motionless beside the occasional itch and brush as facial hair. Waiting. 

Waiting to attack, your hand twitches in the water and you flutter your tail to take you closer to the open air, or waiting to see me?

Taking what you can describe as a deep breath, the top of your head once more breaks the top of the water; lashes dripping salty tear-drops as you blink away the sting. Every part of you is ready to disappear once more if things go south. 

And then you lock eyes once more. 

The Fisherman sits in the sand with his boots pushing up the granules—his right hand rests over his bent knee while the other keeps him up in a relaxed position from behind his back. You stare, the sun reflected in your eyes with a small glinting and hair in your vision. A foreign heat builds in your face when the man’s head tilts; tiny eyes narrowing as if he’d just proven a point to himself. 

Why doesn’t he seem surprised?

There’s a moment of a smirk that slashes his hidden lips but it’s gone in a fraction of a second. His mustache moves as he speaks and your face slightly bobs lower instinctually. The Fisherman doesn't seem hostile—he has a kind of stern comfort to him. 

Stubborn gruffness. And his accent only amplifies that fact.

 “Well, wasn’t expecting to find you here,” his chest rumbles with his words. You find you quite like the sound of it. Shells grinding against each other and pearls that clatter in palms. Your eyes widen with innocence. The Fisherman clears his throat, still watching carefully as the water sloshes over his boots. “Else I would have stayed clear when I still could.” 

Your hands tread water around you, tail flickering in small movements. 

The man's gaze darts down to stare as well as he could through the ripples. 

“Bloody Christ,” he murmurs to himself, returning your eyes once more, “thought you were all mostly extinct. Fuckin’ hell.”

“Extinct?” Your lips flinch, chin caressing the waves as brows pull up. The Fisherman blinks as if surprised to hear you speak. To be honest, you were half afraid you couldn’t either—how long had it been since you’d had a conversation above water? You spent most of your time passing comments to rare traveling Hippocampus and Sea Serpents.

Not that they could respond, of course.

By now your face had entirely left the water, that word startling you. Your chest tightens.

“What do you mean,” you ask the older man, this strange Fisherman who was shifting his weight in the sand, “extinct?” 

Dark brows furrow and his back slightly straightens itself. 

“You aren't exactly what I’d be calling common, Love. No one’s seen one of your kind in years.” Your face stills. 

“Years?” Head angling itself down, you stare at your reflection in growing fear. 

The Fisherman makes a move to stand, and you dart back swiftly. A pale hand is held in the air as if to sedate you.

“Easy, now.” It’s said softly, a grunt stuck at the beginning. A small moment passes before the man fully stands up, dressed similarly to when you’d seen him before. 

Top, pants, hat. There’s also a flash of metal around his neck, some piece of jewelry hidden on the chain under the layer of his thin, flowy, tunic. Hands go to cross over his chest in a display of muscle gained from a long time of hard work.

You nervously plead for an explanation, “B-but that…that doesn’t make any sense! I’m not the only one left!”

“No,” the Fisherman slowly states, taking off the hat from his head and delicately placing it on the ground. “No, you’re not the last.” 

His eyes dart along your visible body, trying to catch a glimpse of that tail that was in all stories about your kind. 

“Your name, Ma’am,” he asks, blue returning to your own sights, “what is it.”

“Well, what’s yours?” You counter, getting snappy in your anxiousness. “You come into my home and expect me to answer to you? And where’s your fishing boat anyways—unless a male Selkie has suddenly managed to brave the deep sea?” 

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but you had sworn the Fisherman had smiled at you; it was a swift slash of something that pulled his mustache back and wrinkled his face. An amused thing it was. A sort of tiny tease, in its own right.

Your heart beats steadily at the sight, eyes watching. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right, then.” He scratches at his beard with one hand, still studying you with a tilt of his head. As if weighing what he should tell you. There was an air of intrigue but that did nothing to hide the hesitance. “I docked my boat in the sea cave, thought it would do more harm than good to leave it in the open. If you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have shown, eh?” The Fisherman points and you look to the deep indent in the mountainside, the tiny ship visible as it stays stationary. You blink at it slowly. 

“And you can call me whatever it is you like, I don’t bloody care, but I’m not inclined to tell one of the Merfolk my name—I may have come ‘ere, but I’m not fuckin’ daft, now.”

It was true, what he spoke of. Names to your people have a stark and violent purpose. To know one's name is to own a piece of that person’s soul. Songs gain more power, words grow into orders followed without thought. Not that it was your intention.

You glower, brows pulling in. 

“A simple fisherman does well to know that it’s rude to speak ill like such in another’s home.” The man smirks, cheeks rising. 

“Simple, am I?” The already expansive build of his shoulders widens as he leans back on his heels, water sloshing at his boots. His eyes glimmer like lighting with humor. The look makes your cheeks burn with warmth, throat swallowing saliva.

“Why are you here?” You avoid the question, treading water and letting your tail drift. Willing the water to cool your senses. It was obvious that this man wasn’t a hunter—foolish, perhaps, but no hunter.

Or maybe just confidently brave. 

The Fisherman hums under his breath, grunting in the way you’d already come to associate with him. Rugged fellow, really. Weathered like a pile of old rope but still handsome, the sinews under the stain of dirt pure of color. You found yourself, however apprehensive, enjoying the squareness of his face; how the brunette’s hair would sweep in the warm breeze. 

He was attractive.

“Fishing, Ma’am.” A broad sweep of one of his hands, “You have a proper cove. Plenty of places to cast.” 

Your tight arms somewhat loosen. 

“Just fishing?” Your voice darkens. “Then why is it you’re here on shore and not doing just that.” Tail flickering, it lightly brings you back from him, eyes always darting away to stare into the background of his form—at the dark shadows of trees behind the dark rocks. At the open mouth of the cove in case of extra ships. 

If what he told you earlier was true, you were in danger just by living. 

Extinct? Not seen in years? No, that can’t be right. A deep knot forms in your stomach.

“I may be human, Ma’am, but I believe myself to be above intrusion.” The Fisherman splays his hands by his waist and shifts his thighs. He seems serious again, like a wave going forward and back he seemed to always revert to a crafted visage of firm resolve. “This is your home, and I’m asking to ferry my boat here when able. Nothing else.” 

You blink in surprise, brows pulling back. 

He was…asking you? 

“I…own the cove no more than the Manticore owns the desert,” your voice stutters, oddly touched by his sincerity. You pause and push yourself farther above a wave. This large man didn’t seem cruel to you. “I have no claim on the waters—they have been here longer than I. Do as you wish.” 

While that should have been the end of it, you found his blue eyes continuing to watch you, head tilted like a shaggy dog. Thinking deeply with a slight parting of his lips and rising to his lids. 

At the intensity of his silent wonder, your head goes light. Had you said something strange? No, it was just the truth. Then…why was this man’s face going to a modest pink shade? Why were his eyes darting away from yours and his feet shifting? 

You narrow at him before he speaks, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” the Fisherman mutters, chest rumbling. 

A silence falls where your ears twitch to the lapping of the sea-foam and the feeling of blood in your veins which mirrors such movements. As you saw him do to you, your vision falls to the man’s body; looking across the tapering of his waist and the rolled sleeves of his tunic—showing off years of muscle 

“I don’t suppose…” Your tail flinches from the sudden noise from the brunette, expecting him to swim over to his boat and get to his business. You stare and listen, and for the first time, you believe a mermaid has been entranced by another's voice. “That I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

The Fisherman speaks slowly, hands shifting on his biceps; thighs tense and settle. You allow the waves to connect and slide around your body and a feeling reminiscent of warm rocks in the sun grows in your heart. 

Strange, this man. This serious-faced Fisherman who asks one of the Merfolk for permission over the waters we don’t control. You tilt your head to teasingly mirror the brunettes. He humphs in his throat at your action. I enjoy him. 

At the first sign of danger you’d leave—but for now…talking felt good.

“Perhaps,” you say, lips twitching into a smile. “Would this nameless Fisherman enjoy the company of a mermaid? Not many would say yes.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not like those many, then, yeah?” He smiles, a small twitch of his lips. You begin backing up, getting to deeper water while maintaining eye contact. “I don’t care what you are, just that we have an agreement.”

“Very well,” your neck dips under the waves, tail momentarily peaking above the surface. Blue flickers to it, shoulders lowering in hidden awe. The Fisherman’s lungs still. 

He hears your giggle before you dive under, disappearing swiftly down to your caves with a splash. 

It’s a long while before the brunette picks up his hat and begins walking the length of the shore—strong steps taking him back to his ship with a tiny smile brightening his ruggedly handsome face. 

He runs a hand over his chin and chuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

—

You perch on the side of the Fisherman’s boat, golden comb in your grip as you run it over and over through your locks. Tangles and knots are rendered useless to the fine and beautiful make of the object, the handle covered in small barnacles and seaweed. A nice breeze wafts in the air, and behind you, the padding of feet goes across the deck. With the sliding of nets and a small whistling from the Fisherman, you feel your tail gently sway from side to side; the bottom under the water whose waves rise and lower the vessel. 

It had been a week since your first meeting and you had become more relaxed about this man’s presence. He had been truthful—every day he would come and fish. 

At first, you’d watch from the black rocks, sitting atop them and studying. More than once you’d see the brunette raise a hand in greeting when his boat had entered the cove; an acknowledgment that you were there and nothing more. No expectation for you to come over or speak to him. 

Day after day you’d see the net being thrown from the side only to be reeled back by large arms, legs apart and firm to the deck. 

On day four, you swam over and grappled onto the side of the ship, curious. Before you could even realize he instantly knew you were there—despite his back being to you—the Fisherman spoke in a cheeky tone.

“Come up, then, if you’re that interested. No use watching from the water.” So you had, with a bit more fire to your cheeks than you thought mermaids could handle.

Now it was routine. The human man would pull into the cove and you would sit on the side of his fishing boat, doing whatever you wished as he worked. 

You pull your comb through the ends of your hair, placing it down after and closing your eyes before your hands grab the shiny strands, twisting them. Under your breath, you hum in tune with the Fisherman’s whistled song; the notes like a growing symphony in your head. 

Song to Merfolk is sacred and revered—everything sings, in its own right, and deserves careful crafting to fully understand. 

“You seem to enjoy that,” you startle to a stop, eyes popping open. Sharply looking over your shoulder, you pause your hands. Staring, the man has completely stopped his work; nets at his feet with slapping fish of all colors stuck in the rope’s limp weavings. 

He squints at your confused face.

“Rhythm.” 

“Oh,” you offer a smile and watch him look away only to kneel down and begin separating his quarry. “If you’re worried I’ll sing around you, think nothing of it—I know what that could cause.” 

The Fisherman hums, amused at you, “I’m not. I was complimenting you,” the knife at his belt glints in the light. “You have a pretty voice, Love.” 

You shyly watch him, hair partly covering your visage, and catch a glimpse once more at the necklace he seems to always wear. Silver and shiny but still hidden. 

“If you knew about my species, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Explaining lowly, the man grunts, sending a look your way as he tosses a Cod farther up the deck—you watch it flop around for a moment. 

“Well,” the Fisherman explains, hands pausing and body leaning closer as one of his knees connects to the wood. It’s a teasing whisper that slides into your drum, and you find yourself nearly shivering from it. Blue eyes twinkle with mischief. “I did. No worries, I’ll never tell.”

A deep chuckle joins a lighter one, and your tail shimmers in the open light; scales vibrant and rich-looking. From what the brunette can see on the deck—the smaller plates that extend all the way up your navel to stop at your belly button—you know he stares at them. 

Not a greedy, evil, stare…just one of hidden admiration. It was of no surprise to you that he found it beautifully uncanny.

You have no idea how to read this Fisherman; have no idea what he wants. You think he doesn’t want anything. On your face, a strange calm settles. 

“Tell me, Fisherman,” his gaze snaps from your scales to your face, momentarily stopping at the dip of your neck as you turn as fully to him as you’re able from your perch. Your hand rests at your side; spine twisted halfway. “Who are you? No, I don’t mean your name. I want your person. You don’t act afraid of me—of what I am.” He stays kneeling and lets the net rest for now, his heart beating steadily in his breast. “There is more to you than a human at sea, surely.” 

Your words are not accusatory, they lacked any sort of confrontation. Curiosity, though, like enclosed treasure, was stuck behind your tongue. He surprises you by standing and beginning to walk over, boots thumping. 

As he nears, he sits down with a huff on the edge, right next to you. 

There’s a moment when you both stare into each other's eyes as you feel the world shift. Blinking up at him, at the closer range you take into account the ancientness of his eyes and how it seemed, for such an alone man, it was making him look far older than he was. Still older than you, yes, but the sentiment still stands.

With his hat having been retired not five minutes earlier onto one of the many ship’s barren tops, you saw the streaks of sun-bleached strands in his brown hair. You unconsciously reach for your comb but stay your fingers as they flinch over the gold.

Storm-blue carefully glances away before coming back to you. 

“Not much to know, Love,” the Fisherman’s brow raises, “you understand?” 

“No,” you say, honestly, head tilting at him. He looks surprised, breath hitching. 

“It’s just…there’s not much to tell, Sweetheart.”

Humans are strange creatures.

Not knowing this word game, you take your hand away from the comb and bring it to his chest, slipping under the neck of his tunic to grasp at the necklace he always wears. A hand snaps to your wrist almost immediately—a startling speed that makes you flinch. 

Above your heads, seagulls squawk at you, but all you can gaze into are those pure blue orbs. They trap you, drag you down far faster than a whirlpool into the briny depths of hypnotic appeasement. 

Perhaps you were naive to the magical whims of males that walk on two feet.

The Fisherman’s jaw clenches, eyes tightly narrowed at you in hesitance and veiled threat. You blink at him softly, not doing anything besides twitching your fingers and widening your sight. Before long, his hold loosens but doesn’t leave, allowing you on whatever it was you were doing yet still touching your damp flesh.

Lips parting, you don’t make a fuss. Instead, you hum under your breath and allow his calluses to scrape you. The toughness becomes a stark contrast to your own make-up. 

Feels nice.  

Your digits peel out the article of jewelry and you shift closer to look; bare chest brushing against his. You can feel his pulse through the brunette’s tunic, the way his throat shifts in a tense swallow of nothing. 

The necklace held two pieces of small, round, silver and said the following. 

“Jonathan Price, Captain, 141st company under the King.”

As you read, your tail gradually begins brushing his leg in its swaying. Through it all, the large Fisherman only slants his chin down and watches, breathing half through his mouth and half through his nose. You hear his throat clear; feel his grip squeeze your wrist. 

It is a small and taken-aback kind of noise. He doesn’t move his hand.

You are happy he doesn’t. 

“You’re a…Captain?” Asking, you look up shocked and aren’t taken aback by how close your face was to his. Even if your cheeks begin to burn at the beard bristles itching your nose. 

“...Yes,” breathe puffs over the lower half of your face. Your fingers detangle from the Fisherman’s necklace and let it thump to his chest. “I was. Left.” 

Blinking, you whisper, steadily, “What’s a…Captain…?” 

A small sound is made in the back of his throat and he releases your wrist and pulls back before a loud bark of a laugh jerks his chest. You stare in innocent confusion, hair falling over your shoulders.

“What?” Gripping his mouth, Jonathan Price grounds himself by gripping his thigh as he chuckles.

“No, no,” he takes a deep breath and releases his face, smoothing down his beard quickly with amusement stuck in his smile. “Bloody hell, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, Love.”

He sends you a warm side glance and you huff, moving back and picking up your comb, getting back to brushing your locks again. You are acutely aware that you now know the Fisherman’s name, but refrain from saying anything until he does. Now you know why he reacted in such a way.

Your tail twitches in the water as fish brush past it and the brunette begins with a soft look. 

“I was in charge of a small group of men—we had a ship. Far larger than this old girl,” he pats the deck, and you slow your motion to show that you are listening, intrigued. “We did what was needed of us, but there was a thin line that needed to be drawn to keep every bastard sane.” 

Blue meets your eyes and the man’s expression darkens. Your fingers twitch as the breeze ravages his hair, chest tightening. 

“And yours?” You ask softly, entranced and open, “What was your line, Captain Price?” 

He hums after a small silence, sighing deeply. Along the hull of the boat, the waves rock the vessel gently side to side, and your mythical attention seems to entrap him far better than your voice could. His face loses that dark edge, well-trimmed beard relaxes as his jaw does. 

The past it seems, looms over him like a tsunami.

Reaching up a slow hand, his fingers brush the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of your hold and were dangling in front of your face; the Fisherman blinks and pushes them back behind your ear. By now your brush had long stopped and your breath was held in your chest. For the first time in your life, you think you feel yourself shiver at the delicate scrape of his skin on yours.

“John,” he mutters, and you suck down a shallow breath as he watches you like you were an idol of the Gods, “Just John.” 

Your smile leaves his fingers pressing deeper into your scalp and, perhaps a bit naively, you welcome him to you like a bird to the sky. You liked his gruffness—his beard and his face. The lines on his forehead that you could imagine tracing as if they belonged on a map instead of the squareness of this Fisherman’s profile. Tiny sockets that hold sapphire stones.

“Maybe I left because I couldn’t stand seeing such beautiful creatures being put to the hook, eh?” Your eyes widen, tiny gasp leaving your lips. 

Merfolk swooned with flattery, truth be told. They enjoy being doted on and praised; given gifts of both words and objects. You were no different. 

Oh…did he call me beautiful?

John smirks at your reaction, taking his hand off of you and standing with a low chuckle. Your tail flutters at the sudden absence, head following after him as he walks back to his net with a sway in his step. You blink in astonishment. 

“You’re a strange human, John,” calling to him, you grimace at the blatant disappointment in your bones at the lack of his skin on yours. At his humored hum, you sense your growing attraction to the grind of his vocal cords. His voice. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“Then think nothing of me,” he explains easily, casually, re-gathering his nets in his toned arms. You try not to let your jaw slacken at the bulge under his tunic when he carries them. “I’m not offended by it, Love.” A sly look, “Do as you wish.” 

Your tail twitches so violently you’re afraid you might break the side of the ship. 

And so this strange dance between the two of you continued well into the longer months—John would come in his ship nearly every day and you would join him on the side of the deck. Sometimes you would hum for him and he would whistle a tune back, others there were long bouts of conversation about the ways of humans and beasts. John told you that the King had ordered the total extinction of all manner of ‘strange and unordinary’ creatures to secure his line safely to the throne. 

When he had explained it, the mad had gone red with anger.

“Fuckin’ muppet,” he’d spit, fiddling with his knife as you watched a small distance away, playing with his silver necklace in your hands. You twiddled it around and liked how it shimmered like your scales did in the light. “Bloody thought I would just go along with the deaths of innocent beings. He had no facts—no proof to back up his claim. I’ve done things. Horrible things,” John explained to you, sending you a stiff look, “but I’ve not forsaken my damn mind to reality. Takin’ the piss.” 

Muttering the last sentence to himself, you had felt your lips curve into a smile. “You have a proper conscience, John, done bad or not.” 

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart, I’ll be done in soon enough.” You only stared with care-drowned eyes and caressed his necklace. When he had seen this, his body had deflated with an exasperated grunt. 

You shared a chuckle and he got back to work; feeling his melting gaze drawn back to you every so often. 

Later, yet again, you found your form on his boat, this time with his hands across the small of your back as you studied the blade of his knife.

“Careful, now. Don’t run your finger along the edge.” His free grip points to the sharp side—breath fanning your ear. You feel your throat tighten and nod, caressing a thumb on the leather handle. 

John’s hand is hard on your bare skin and you sense his heat drilling past your veins into the very marrow of your bones. You unconsciously sigh when his fingers slide slightly higher, traveling the length of your spine; his scars catching on every knob of bone. Your exploration stills and your pupils widen. 

His breath is on your neck, nose tilting as his jaw does just above the meat of your shoulder. 

“Why’d you stop?” You stare off into the metal, lashes fluttering when his fingers finally curve at the swell of your neck. Lips drag on your flesh before a deep grumble of affection stems from John’s chest as he kisses your rapid pulse. “Distracted? Hm.” 

“It’s,” you breathe out, scales reflecting light as your lower body shifts on the wood. His opposite hand circles your waist, drawing your back to his chest. Skin burns and thoughts go to liquid as you feel his roving muscle. “It’s g-good. Pretty—” 

Words fail you as his lips continue to slowly travel.

“Could say the same,” John grunts; beard scraping down your flesh. 

Your eyes flutter, head tilting to give more room at the same time you whisper out, violently shivering at the compliment, “John…” 

“What is it?” The grip moves to run over your scales, right where your upper hips would be; the sensation of him caressing you with gentle, deep, rubs of his thumb was all it took for you to give in completely to him. “Go on, Love, speak.” 

You take a breath and feel his heart beating steady along your back—the texture of his tunic. “What…are you doing?” 

John moves your hair and places open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. He breathes in your scent and you turn your light head to stare unabashedly at his flushed face. Your tail sways, limp, over the side of the boat. 

Blown pupils hide that sea-storm blue like a lock and key to dangerous thoughts and attraction. 

In answer, his eyes flicker down to your lips hungrily and your gaze widens; a small sound in the base of your throat. 

“You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” He says and you let him lean in closer to your face, eyes threatening to close when you take in the musk of human flesh and sweat. Rope and wood oil. John’s words make you shiver again, hairs standing on end—responding to that deep growl with a roaring in your ears. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Shouldn’t be enjoying his lips or his tight grip; his…his rough, large, hands that encapsulate your body and drown you. It terrifies you, this heart-stopping magnetism. You can’t get enough of him.

John presses his firm lips to yours, groaning into the connection as you sigh and part your mouth. Fingers shaking, you twist and place your hands on his chest, gasping mutely as his teeth nip into your lower lip and pull back before pushing back forward. Sparks of subdued pain mix with pleasurable agony at the scrape of his beard hair.

 “Every inch of you…” John’s grip captures you closer, hands ensnaring you against his chest like deeply intertwined strands of fabric, squeezing as he licks his upper lip. He catches his breath shallowly. Blue eyes burn through you. “...is fucking perfection.”  

You grab at his necklace and drag him back in, feeling him not waste a single moment to grip the back of your head and keep you trapped to him, tongues slipping out of mouths to tangle together like seaweed. Perhaps it was foolish, but a part of you knew that this Captain, this strange Fisherman—this Johnathan Price—was the only man or being on this planet, land or sea, who could make you feel like you could walk and fly all at once. 

When he lifts you in his arms and drops you in his lap as if your body weighed as much as a pebble, you knew you’d brave the open ocean for this man in an instant. His arm drips with water as it slips under the joint of your tail; where your knees would be if you had them, and you whine into his mouth at the slip of his fingers. 

Intoxicated, drunk off of his scent and his pressure. 

A dangerous mix of two different lives. 

It couldn’t last.

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[dovahkiin796]

Poppy Playtime: CH 3 (What-if)

John watches in horror as dozens upon dozens of the Mini–Smiling Critters he has been dealing with ever since he found himself in the Playhouse. Crawl out of the walls and toward the hanging DogDay. The giant version of the toy screams out in panic when seeing the little monsters.

"Leave me! Please! Save yourself!" Every fiber of John's being agreed with what the humanoid dog said. But John couldn't get his legs to move.

He was too caught up in the horrific sight to even twitch a finger. But eventually his brain screamed at him to go, and John responded.

Though instead of running away to get to safety. John fired a few flares at the Mini-Smiling Critters. Like the other times they reared back in fright at the bright fireball.

However, this time, not all of them were backing away. Some continued to crawl toward DogDay. Their feral nature being more powerful than their fear. So, with only one option left. John starts bashing away the plush toys with his GrabPack arms.

"What are you doing?!" Asked a confused DogDay. "I told you to leave me!" John ignored him and continued his assault. One of the Smiling Critters manages to get onto DogDay's head, and it seemed it was about to crawl into his head by his large, black eyes,

John stopped this from happening by actually using his own hand to grab it and then punch it in the face with his other hand by turning it into a fist. John heard a sickening crack, but he pressed on and threw the dead thing away.

In quick speed John was able to free the large dog from his straps and have his arms wrap around his neck for support. "You're a fool for doing this. You're going to get yourself killed."

John could only grin. If that was the case, then at least he died trying to save someone. The Mini-Smiling Critters, angry that their food supply was now free. All snarled in anger.

John didn't bother to wait and see what they'll do and ran back the way he came. But when trying to run through the cell doors, wooden planks that were put in place to cover a large hole in the floor. Collapsed by the combined wait of John and DogDay's.

They fell to a floor beneath the holding cells. Clearing his dazed head from the sudden fall. John sees an open tunnel. Up above he can hear the little Critters coming to where he and DogDay fell.

Wasting no time, he crouch runs down the tube till coming to another tunnel and taking it. It was series of running, taking sharps turns, running up ramps, waiting for shutter doors to open up, and taking a slide down. But eventually John spots their salvation. An elevator that was behind a gap that led to a bottomless pit.

Switching to the purple hand and with what little adrenaline he had left in him. John sprints toward the gap, "Hang on! This won't be an easy landing!" Just as his foot touches the purple hand pad. John fires the hand on it and both he and DogDay launch high in the air.

Fortunately for them they were able to make it. Though John ended up not sticking the landing. He lost his footing and fell to the ground. The giant Smiling Critter rolled off of him, only being stopped by the elevator railing.

Without his choice John's body happened to land on his side where his front would be facing the open doorway he just came through. He can see the horde coming for him and DogDay. He wasn't actually sure if they would make the jump or not. He prayed that they didn't. But he wouldn't be able to know as the shutter suddenly closed before any of them could even make the attempt.

From behind the door, he could hear the little beasts roar and snarl in absolute fury. Crashing their little bodies against the metal in hopes of breaking through it.

Though the door wasn't budging in the slightest. Letting out a much-needed sigh of relief. John turns to DogDay to see if he's alright. "Are you ok?" John asked. The Smiling Critter coughs a little before asking why he saved him. John was silent for a few seconds till saying. "Because this place already has enough death occur in it. It needs at least one life that was saved in these walls."

DogDay took a second to digest what he heard. He lets out a ragged snort. "You really are an Angel. Something this place really needs."

John snorts too. "By the way. The name is John." DogDay said the name sounded too generic and will continue to call him Angel. Rolling his eyes. John picks up DogDay and steps onto the elevator and pushes the button. The contraption heading upward that led them to another slide. With no other option they took it, and it actually took them outside the Playhouse.

"It's been so long since I've been outside. I honestly can't believe that I'm truly free." Said DogDay. "Well believe it, you'll no longer be someone's dinner."

After a phone call from Ollie and telling him what to do next. John first takes DogDay to the elevator where Kissy and Poppy were last seen using.

When reaching it John sees the elevator was still raised up. He calls out for either Poppy or Kissy to lower the elevator so DogDay can be safe with them.

For several long seconds he didn't get a reply back. He was worried that maybe they were no longer up there. But his worries were put to rest when he heard and saw the elevator descending.

The elevator finally reached the bottom and John rested DogDay against the railing. "I don't know about this. Can you trust them?" The Smiling Critter asked. A hint of worry in his voice.

Despite what DogDay said to him back at the Playplace about he and Poppy being the only ones to stop the Prototype. John doesn't blame him for it. For years he was at the mercy of toys who he thought were his friends. And after all those years, he's finally free, only be at the mercy to a different set of toys. John reassures him that that they'll keep him safe while he deals with CatNap.

Pressing the button so the elevator can go back up. DogDay says, "Please don't die, Angel. I don't want to lose any more friends in this place."

Promising he won't. John turns around and heads for the counselor's office to bring more power to the generator.

[dmercer91]

perfect girl, ms25

in which mackie spends the day with the sophomores best girl (set last season, 18+!!)

i feel the need to apologize for this but alas i will not,

enjoy! (this is 2.4k words of porn with no plot. mackie samo the man that you are)

your legs were sprawled over marks lap when a knock on the door stole your attention, a small tap to your thigh the force that brought it back

“probably food for mackie. bring it to him for me, hm?” you nodded softly, sliding off him and standing up, heading towards the door.

you bent to grab the bag, nodding to mark to confirm it was food, and then heading upstairs towards mackie’s door.

you knocked softly, waiting for his hum of approval before opening the door and stepping in, but not moving towards the bed.

a movie played on his tv and he’d been laser focused on it before you’d come in.

“hi, mack. i brought you your food,” you murmured, his eyes scanning you before he sat up and patted his lap, grinning

“thank you, baby. c’mere,” he said, confirming he wanted you on him.

you closed the door gently, shuffling over to the side of his bed and setting down the food as you found your way to his side, not on his lap but your legs laid over his.

he opened his bag and pulled out his meal, getting a couple bites in before he moved his fork toward your mouth and you blushed

“i’m ok, thank you,” he tilted his head, fork remaining in place.

“have some, baby. s’ good,” he insisted, moving the fork closer and raising his eyebrow at you. you parted your lips, letting him feed you and nodding after you’d finished, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“good,” you confirmed, earning a satisfied chuckle from mackie.

“d’you wanna watch my movie with me, baby? or is mark wanting you back,” he asked, looking down at you while piling his last bite of food, cleaning up his takeout container and setting it on his bedside table.

“wanna stay with you,” you mumbled, looking up at him with a small smile.

mackie had always taken good care of you. they all did, but mackie especially.

mark gave you the most attention, but he could get rough and distracted. ethan was a little all over the place, and you had a hard time reading what kind of mood he’d be in.

luke, despite often allowing you to steal his bed and clothes, only truly used you when he was having it really tough. dylan was sweet to you, but you found him quiet and a little too tame, though you loved him outside of your alone time

mackie took his time- he knew how to use his words and he controlled you in a way that meant you’d be sated. like he was telling you what he wanted, but it was only ever for your benefit

so if you had been given the option to spend a few hours with him, you’d take it in a heartbeat.

he laid down, pulling at your waist so you’d join him, wrapping his arm around you fully once you’d settled with your back against his chest.

the movie played quietly while you dozed off in his arms, his fingers eventually finding their way to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up around your hips and then moving to the band of your panties

your body shifted, subconsciously allowing him to slip them off you and throw them the the floor.

“you think i can just slip right in, baby? you’re fuckin’ made for me, won’t need to get you ready, hm?” his words went in one ear and out the other, your dazed hum confirmation enough for him.

so, he did as he said, gliding the head of his cock along your core a few times before pressing into you, a shocked gasp immediately slipping from your lips as you blinked tiredness from your eyes.

“mack- nh. mackie, you-“ your eyes fluttered shut again when he adjusted, but then kept still, a soft chuckle echoing in your ear.

“there’s a good girl,” he cooed, watching in awe as you squirmed to adjust to him. “just wanted you to warm me, baby. gonna stay right there with me inside you,”

a sweet moan tumbled from your lips as his hand ghosted over your stomach, barely grazing the bulge he was causing.

your head leaned back against his shoulder, eyes wide looking up at his with tears collecting on your waterline.

“shh, baby,” he soothed his hands along your hips gently, kissing your temple as you tried to relax into him now that you’d almost adjusted “feel full?”

you gulped, nodding to his question. “yeah? y’ can feel me stretchin’ you? feels good?” he smirked, tilting your jaw so you’d continue to look at him.

“so good, mack.. n’ deep- so, so deep,” you babbled, a small whine following your words. you’d wanted so badly for him to move- rock his hips a little. but he said he wanted you to warm him, so you listened.

“such a patient baby girl. so perfect f’ me,” he whispered, a little dazed and lost in his own control over you- but still maintaining it.

“watch the movie, baby,” he released your jaw, nodding to the tv screen and kissing your temple sweetly. you nodded, trying to keep your attention centred on the plot and not the aching wish that he’d move- just give you a little friction.

his phone buzzed with a text from the sophomore group chat, and a smirk found it’s way back to his lips.

from, estapa: princess still up with you, samo?

from, samo: watching a movie

from, eddie: fuckin hog

mackie chuckled to himself, kissing your temple again and mumbling your name into your ear sweetly. you hummed, sparing him a glance before letting your eyes drift to his phone that he’d set in front of you.

“you wanna give them a little show, baby?” you furrowed your eyebrows, not clueing in to what he meant until he opened his camera and adjusted your legs so your knees were up to your chest.

you moaned at the movement, watching his phone carefully as he angled it to snap a picture of him seethed inside you, your grown arousal drooling from your centre and leaving shining spots on your inner thigh

“fuck. prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen. can i show them, baby? show them how good you take me?” you bit your lip, contemplating his request as he readied the picture to send and hovered over the blue arrow

“only the sophomores?” you looked up at him, lip still slid between your teeth, this time with question.

he nodded “only for us, baby,” you nodded gently, watching as the picture sent with the message he’d typed

from, samo: attachment, 1 image

from, samo: warming me like she’s made for it

from, estapa: jfc

from, estapa: she’s fucking perfect

from, lukey: how can u not be moving

from, lukey: i’d have broken as soon as i started

from, eddie: she’s always so good for you

from, duker: fuck me shes pretty

from, samo: show that to anyone and i cut your dicks off

mackie chuckled as you squeezed around him, flustered at the compliments and desperate for him to start moving

“please, mack, i’ve been so good,” you blurted, his head cocking to the side. “i know you have, baby. gotta be patient with me, though,”

you fought the urge to whine at his denial, instead nodding obediently and trying to focus once more on the movie that was playing. if you’d seen it before, you were too distracted to piece together what it actually was.

he smiled, peppering your neck and shoulders with kisses and gently adjusting his hips, your walls immediately fluttering around him and a breathy whine of his name falling from your lips

“i love those pretty noises you make,” he murmured, his hips starting to rock back and forth, slowly but hard and deep. you reached for his hands, planted on your waist, and squeezed his wrist, crying out from pleasure

“mackie, mackie, it feels so good,” you squeezed both his hand and his cock, leaning your head back on his shoulder with your eyes fluttered shut

he hummed in appreciation, kissing your temple but keeping focused on his thrusts, moving his hand to your belly once more and adding a little pressure

you tried to squirm away, your eyes opening to look up at his and beg, to no avail. “you’re okay, baby, i’ve got you. bet that feels like heaven, hm?” he cooed, watching as your eyes watered again from the pressure building in the pit of your stomach

you only moaned in response, keeping eye contact with him for as long as he stayed looking down at you- his soft gaze a contrast from how harsh his thrusts were.

“you feel so good, baby girl. makin’ me feel so good. n’ you’re behaving like a pretty angel for me, such a good girl,” he praised, bringing his free hand up to cup your face and watch as you flushed, nodding

“jus’ wanna be perfect for you, mack. wan- nh, wanna be your good girl,” you cried, stuttering as his hand pressed harder on your stomach.

he pressed a soft kiss to your nose, pulling his head back when you leaned in to kiss his lips. you whimpered, moving your hands from his wrist to tangle into his hair and try again.

he obliged, the hand on your chin moving down to rub circles on your clit. you moaned into the kiss, tugging at his hair a little while your body started to writhe

you clamped your legs around his hand, pulling away from the kiss to moan, try and warn him how close you were. all you could get our way was stutters of his name or profanity

“shhh, baby. i know, i’ve got you. you can go ahead,” he whispered, cooing sweet nothings into your ear as you fell apart, thighs twitching and your walls suffocating him

he fucked you through it, getting ready to pull out as you caught your breath.

“no, no. stay, please stay inside” you begged, feeling him throb inside you and knowing he was close.

“i’ll come, baby. was gonna finish in your mouth,” you shook your head, choking on your lack of breath before finally finding your words and pleading with him

“want you to come inside. please? want you to fill me,” you begged, his pace having slowed down. both of your hands had moved to his lower back, trying to keep him seethed inside you

his hips twitched, a groan falling from his lips at your request.

“baby, you know i can’t. s’ against the rules,” he calmly explained, earning a sad look from you, leant on his shoulder. your hands made no effort to move and he kissed your forehead, trying to pull out of you.

“please, mack. please, s’ all i want. i’ve been so good. i won’t tell, i promise,” you knew he could’ve easily slipped out- he was stronger than you on any day, not to mention how fucked out you were

“you have been such a good girl for me, baby, so fuckin’ perfect all the time, but-“ your walls fluttered around him at the praise, his breath hitching while he tried to shake his head of the image of himself dripping from you

to no avail.

“fuck. okay, baby. i’ll come inside you. i’ll stuff you full of me n’ i want you on your back the second i pull out of that pretty pussy, alright? wanna watch you leak w’ me,”

you nodded quickly, your hands moving to grab onto his while his thrusts got a little rougher, your walls clenching around him while you felt your second orgasm near

“mack.. mackie, i- fuck” you moaned, a sweet chuckle coming from his lips before he focused on nipping at your shoulders, giving a little more pressure on your stomach

“so big, mh. full, feel so full,” you mumbled, doing your best to praise him into speeding up, your second release teetering on the edge.

“yeah? you like bein’ stretched, don’t you baby,” he quickly replied, pressing kisses to the marks he left on your shoulders and neck

“do you wanna come together, baby? m’ so close. feel so good squeezing me.. like im on top of the world,” he cooed, feeling your head nod immediately, your walls fluttering at the compliment

“alright, baby. one,” he paused, speeding up his thrusts “two. there you go, baby, you’ve got it,” he praised, watching as you struggled to adjust to his newfound pace

he murmured three, your body tensing during your orgasm as you tried to savour the feeling of him spilling into you.

he bit back his moans, a few whines slipping from his pressed lips as your body shook in his arms. you were a mess- haphazard moans of swears and his name breathy and beautiful as they fell, his cock aching at the way you were squeezing him

as you both came down, he let you catch your breath before pulling out of you, a sweet whine indicating your oversensitivity.

as told, you rolled onto your back and spread your legs for him, watching carefully as he got up and kneeled in front of you.

he kissed the inside of your knee, watching in awe as his load drooled from you, mixed with your own arousal.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby. look at you,” he reached over for his phone once more, taking a picture of the mess he’d made of you. he flipped the phone, watching as your cheeks heated

“that one’s just for me, yeah? a reminder of how good you are just for me,” he soothed his hands along your thighs, still dazed at the sight in front of him.

you nodded in agreement, eyes fluttering in and out of sleep due to your exhaustion.

“alright, pretty baby. let’s get you in the bath. staying with luke tonight?” you shook your head weakly, reaching out for him and being given his hand.

“wanna stay with you,” he grinned, nodding and squeezing your hand like you had his.

“then you’ll stay with me, angel,”

[unoislazy]

I am feral for Mizu and you’ve been feeding me well with your Mizu fics so thank you so much for your service!! 💕💕💕💕💗💗💗💗💗 i really enjoy your writing and the way you portray Mizu. With that said i wanna run a scenario by you and im just wondering how do you think it’d play out (if you like the idea enough to do a mini fic or headcanons that’d be awesome but if not then that’s okay and i understand 💕) hear me out, what if Mikio had a sister and she lived with him and Mizu during the time they were married, say her and Mizu bonded while they all live together but then their friendship blossoms into romantic love 🥺 how do you think that’d play out?

I Am No Coward

(Part 1)

Mizu x Fem! Reader

A/N: all of you guys are so nice and I love all of you. Thank you for the suggestion! This will be around a 4 part series that I hope to continue working on in the near future so BUCKLE UP

Also!

I am planning on making a Mizu x Black reader soon but I’m struggling on deciding a scenario for it. If anyone has any suggestions they won’t be to try out for it, I’ll take them with open arms!

Summary: You’re Mikio’s sister and todays the day you meet his new bride to be.

————————————————————

Days were quiet with you and your older brother Mikio. After you had been put under his care and he had been outcasted by the lord, you both lived on his land more on the countryside, away from those who would cast their unwanted opinions on to you.

You usually took care of the more mundane tasks, cooking, cleaning; Things Mikio never truly liked to do. He wasn’t against helping but he was usually too busy with the horses to ever truly give you a hand. You knew your brother was obsessed with trying to win back the favor of the Shogun and as much as you knew it wasn’t going to happen, you let him believe anyways.

Time went on as usual until one day Mikio had returned home with some news.

“I’ve been offered a wife.” He said plainly as he took off his cape. You stopped cutting the vegetables and turned to him with a smile.

“That’s great… right?” You smiled hopefully. Given that he was now deemed an outcast and he was an older man it was unlikely that he would find any matches at this point, so you were just pleased that someone had been offered.

“She has the eyes of an onryo.” Was all he said in response before walking over to you. He kneeled down, watching what you were doing with a watchful yet critical eye. He adjusted your hand, suggesting that you had been cutting wrong in the first place.

“And that’s a problem?” You asked, your smile dropping for a moment as you rolled your eyes at his wordless suggestion. You knew he truly had no say in what opportunities were offered to him, you both did. If he had anything to gain, he should take it. He sighed for a moment, looking down before answering,

“No, She’ll be here in three days.”

Your smile returned, pleased to know that at least your brother would experience something other than the constant stress of trying to win back his honor.

You didn’t care what his wife would look like, she could have blue eyes, green hair, and purple skin for all you cared. All you cared about was your brother being happy, and you hoped she would be the key to that.

Mikio used to be a much more upbeat man. He liked to bring light to dreary situations with a joke or some laughter, but he always knew when to keep it serious. However, after he had been outcasted it seemed like all the fun parts of him disappeared. He became so hellbent on training the horses to be the best they could be that he forgot to have fun or indulge himself in anything. You used to enjoy spending time with him and you were elated when you realized you would be put under his care, but that joy soon subsided when you realized just the effect a bruised ego can have on a man. He became closed off, irritable, and would barely even give you the time of day. He cared about nothing more than his honor and as much as you tried not to, you began to resent him for it.

But you kept your thoughts to yourself and went on with your life, hoping someone would come along and change him.

The three days had passed and it was time for his new bride to arrive.

And Mikio was nowhere in sight.

You sighed, disappointed in him, believing he was avoiding yet another responsibility that seemed to ‘get in the way’ of his horses. Even if you had suggested anything, he wouldn’t listen to you, he knew what was best for him.

At least that’s what he claimed.

You sat quietly outside your house, waiting patiently for the woman to arrive so you could greet her. If anything you were ecstatic to meet the mystery woman and you hoped you’d manage to get along with her.

It hadn’t taken long for you to see them approaching. The two women walked towards your direction, both holding two bags, presumably full of their belongings. However, the younger woman seemed to also be holding what looked like a sheathed sword.

You smiled, now standing and walking down the steps, excited to meet the woman. You watched as the two women made their way towards you, one older and one younger. The older woman had turned to face the house that you stood before and spotted you, giving you a wide smile before turning back to the younger woman who seemed reluctant to continue following.

You couldn’t blame her.

Marriage wasn’t something a woman had control over in your world, you just got lucky that you got placed under your brother's care; because of him you were also considered ‘disgraced’ so not many men would truly want you.

She finally made her way, after many unpleasant words from her mother, and stood at her full height with a very plain expression.

She was beautiful.

You examined her features for as long as you could deem polite, your eyes floated from her hair, to her dress, taking in her height, and then lastly taking notice of her eyes.

However, when it came to her eyes, you didn’t see the eyes of an onryo. You saw eyes that reflected a color you saw only in the sky above, you had never seen such eyes before, but you needn’t stare and make the woman uncomfortable, she just got here after all.

You walked towards the two women, an excited smile on your face as you greeted them.

“Hello! You must be the woman Mikio’s going to marry. What’s your name?” You asked happily, the woman stared at you for a moment, clearly in some inner battle with herself on what to do now that she’s in this position. You waited patiently, understanding that being forced to marry someone is not always the happiest thing to do so you did not want to push her.

Her mother, however, cleared her throat and sent a glare at the woman, you assumed from this she was the one who had set up this offer.

The woman sighed, looking back towards you and answering,

“Mizu, my name is Mizu.” She waited for a moment before looking at you, expecting you to say something before speaking up again and asking, “and you are?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’m Mikio’s sister.” You introduced yourself, you did give them your name but you figured it would be more helpful for them to know why you were there in the first place. With this new information Mizu seemed to relax just the slightest bit. Maybe she thought you were a concubine.

Gross.

“So, Where is the man?” Mizu’s mother asked, seemingly wanting to get the show on the road as she turned to you expectantly. You averted your gaze, a bit embarrassed as you answered,

“I’m actually not sure.”

With that answer both of the women stared at you like you were crazy.

“You may or may not be happy to know that Mikio often isn’t home. He’s usually out training his horses.” You explained, trying to subdue the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

As if on cue, you could hear the thumping of hooves accompanied by the sound of a horse's whinny. You all turned to the source of the noise which just so happened to be the aforementioned man. You sighed a small sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t make himself look too bad.

You snuck a small glance at Mizu, wanting to gauge her reaction to your brother and you noticed that her fists were balled up tightly and her face was scrunched. Just like you had expected, the marriage wasn’t her idea. You hoped to the gods your brother wouldn’t ruin this opportunity, if not for his sake than for yours, you were tired of only having his company and truly wanted someone else to be around.

Mikio yields his horse, stopping just in front of Mizu. The first words he uttered were,

“You’re not as hideous as I expected.”

If you could’ve gotten up on that horse and smacked the life out of that man, you would’ve. It didn’t have to be love at first sight but out of all the things to say when he first meets his soon to be wife, and that's what he says? In that moment you were disappointed to have introduced him as your brother.

“You’re a lot older than I expected.” Mizu responded, earning a quiet snicker from you. Between you and your brother there was a decent age difference. If anything you were closer to Mizu’s age which was quite weird in your eyes but… it’s a sign of the times you guessed. Mikio shot you a silent glare telling you to shut up, which you did and you acted as if you had done nothing wrong.

“Let’s get this over with.” He said plainly, guiding his horse back to the field. You rolled your eyes, turning back to Mizu who just watched him go with a very obvious glare on her face.

“I’m sorry about him but if it's any consolation, you won’t have to deal with him alone.” You mentioned, trying to be at least a little encouraging. Mizu looked at you, her glare subsiding as she gave you a very small smile. With that, Mizu’s mother quickly began to rush her inside, wanting to get her ready to be wed before the sun went down. You offered your assistance in getting her ready, the entire time taking it as an opportunity to get to know Mizu.

“I noticed you brought a sword, do you know how to fight?” You asked curiously as you carefully brushed the white makeup across Mizu’s pale face. You couldn’t help but admire the woman's beauty, sure she might not have had the face of a princess, but to you that didn't mean anything. Her eyes of course were the main feature but you had also taken notice of the curl that stuck out from her hair that was pulled up.

“I fought a bit in the past… I don’t know how much I’ll keep up with it though.” She answered with a sigh but she regained her composure once she had looked over to her mother who glared at her.

“I don't know, Mikio might enjoy someone to fight with,” You began, gaining her interest a bit as she looked back up towards you. “And if he doesn't, then I would love to learn if you’d be willing to teach me.”

She gave another small smile, acknowledging your attempt to lighten her mood.

Once she had finished getting ready, her makeup was done, she was dressed in all white, you and her mother took a step back to assess how she looked.

“You look perfect!” You exclaimed to which her mother slightly nodded.

“You look fine, now where is your brother?” She asked impatiently. You turned to her, about to answer but Mikio had already walked in before you could say anything. He had taken off his cape that he wore everywhere and walked past you without saying a word. You sneered at him, he couldn't even try to make an effort? He was more of a grump than you ever remembered him being.

The private ceremony went on with the help of Mizu’s mother. You had no role in the ceremony so you simply sat back and watched. You looked on and for a strange reason you almost wanted to stop them… you felt as if one of them was making a mistake and all though it wasn’t entirely clear who, you could take a wild guess and probably be right. Regardless, you sat back. Your opinion in this matter doesn't matter anyways even if you did have the courage to go out and say it.

Immediately after they had finished, Mikio stood up, handed his dish over to Mizu, and went on his way. You could see the subtle yet dejected look that came across Mizu’s face and you felt a pang in your heart. Sure he might not know the woman very well but the least he could do is act as if he’s even the slightest bit interested. You quickly walked over to Mizu and took the dishes from her hands.

“I’ll take those, don’t worry about them.” You smiled at her, again trying to offer some sort of comfort or reassurance but this time it led to no avail. Her mother had decided it would be best to get her ‘ready for tonight’ so they both walked out and into a different room, as they walked out though the expression Mizu held had shifted to one of confusion or fear.

You sat quietly as you cleaned out the dishes that had been sitting around from hours prior. The resentment you felt for your brother only doubled down by seeing his actions first hand. Was he the most disrespectful man to ever walk the earth? No, but you still expected better from him, and when he arrived home you weren’t going to let him forget it.

A few hours had passed and the sun had set long before your brother had finally deemed it an appropriate enough time to come home. The moment he did you stood up from where you were sitting and walked over to him,

“Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it.” He said, already knowing you were going to complain. You looked at him up and down with a look of disgust, as if he had a choice in the matter.

“Well you're going to hear about it.” You argued.

“Can’t this wait?”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to complain about.”

“I don’t need to know what it is to know that it can wait for another time.”

“Oh sure, just so at that ‘other time’ you can shoo me away and say you have to take care of your horses, or you have work to do, or you're too busy.” You began to rant, much to Mikio’s dismay. This of course was not the first time you had gone off on him, and usually you were quite good at holding your tongue around him, usually his ego was too fragile to handle it, but you were not going to watch this woman sign her life with him just for him to look straight through her.

“You have been nothing but a slob and a grump all day and, I don’t know if you noticed, but you have a wife now. A wife that you called ‘not that hideous’ within two seconds of meeting her, are you serious?”

Mikio didn’t make a move to acknowledge any of your statements but you knew he was listening. You knew, even if it wasn’t exactly obvious, that he knew his actions were wrong, but Mikio was not the kind of man to admit to his failures and you knew that. You knew this argument would go nowhere but you at least hoped if he made a change, he would pretend he got himself to that conclusion.

“It’s not exactly like I’m marrying a princess.” He finally responded, his tone laced with sarcasm causing you to scoff.

“Any woman who has to be subjected to marrying you, deserves nothing less than to be treated like one, and if you wont, someone else will.” You spat, storming out of the room to leave the man with his thoughts, or lack thereof.

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love III || joe burrow x reader

description: you aren’t the only one that’s musically talented 😉

a/n: once again, this orange jersey makes me feral. and yeah this man can’t say he’s learning how to play the piano and expect me to act normal about it. nope.

this one is pretty short, kinda like a filler chapter that is inspired by piano joey. the next part for this mini series will prob take inspo from the request I got about the cannes trip, so it’ll be longgger and we’re going to pretend that the cannes event is in march for the purposes of this fic :)

warnings: smut, language

word count: 4.8 k

part 1 part 2

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

March 

You listened to the loud patter of rain hitting the windows as the early spring storm raged outside your home one uneventful evening. You and Joe found yourselves wrapped up in each other's arms and absolutely bored out of your mind, you more than him. You’d been on the couch for about an hour now, Joe finding entertainment by online shopping while you were staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to notice. You were so bored that you turned to counting the number of times you heard rumbles of thunder, which wasn’t a lot compared to the amount of lightning flashes.

“Joe, I’m bored,” you gave up as you turned your head to him and watched him scroll mindlessly on his phone, seemingly looking at new shoes and clothes for your trip to Cannes in a few weeks.

“Watch TV or something,” he said, brushing off your clear boredom and going back to scrolling away on his phone. 

You look up at him, a scowl on your face as you start to get a little irritated at the fact that he isn’t doing anything to help your boredom. Cuddling could only do so much, and it wasn’t really doing a lot right now. “Joe-,”.

“Ooo, these are sick,” he whispers to himself, interrupting you as he taps on yet another pair of shoes he wasn’t going to buy. 

You let out a loud sigh as you moved out of his arms, his eyes darting towards you at the sudden loss of contact he felt when you moved out of his chest. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine to hopefully distract you for the time being. You sat down on the barstool, pouring yourself a glass of wine as you looked up and saw the storm intensify, silently wishing (even though it was wrong) for the power to go out or a tree to fall down because that would provide some entertainment. 

Joe looked back at you for a few seconds, watching as you plopped down onto the barstool and looked drowsy since you had nothing productive to do. You both had plans to go out tonight and check out the newest floral additions to the Cincinnati Botanical Gardens, but the storm outside ruined that plan and your moods. 

He tossed his phone to the side, feeling guilty for ignoring you when you clearly needed something to do to keep you busy. You had been so excited to go to the gardens for weeks, your mutual fondness for flowers & natural beauty was something you bonded over pretty early on in your relationship, and it broke his heart when you couldn’t go and he had to watch you brush it off like it was fine. He hopped off the couch and walked over to where you were sitting, snaking his arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “I know you’re bored and I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that,”. 

You stayed silent for a few moments and didn’t react to what he was saying. Not that you were mad, you just enjoyed teasing him a little.

“Y/N?” He asked, moving his head a little to look at your face, which was stone cold. You took another sip of your wine as you heard him speak up again. “I’m really sorry, I mean it. Don’t be mad,” he said again, this time pressing two kisses to your cheek. You could feel his body tense up at your silence, now feeling bad for making him feel like this.

You placed your glass down onto the countertop, letting yourself fall back into his embrace as you placed your hands on his arms that were around your waist, relishing his touch. 

“It’s okay. I’m not mad, just teasing, I'm just a whiny baby because I can’t find anything to do,” you laughed. 

Joe let go of you and moved to sit on the barstool next to you, “Well, let’s find something to do then,” he smiled as he grabbed your wine glass and took a little sip.

“Okay, shoot,” you said. 

“How about writing? Working on music always keeps you busy and I wouldn’t mind sitting in on a little writing session and watching you work your magic,” he beams.

“Already hit the studio this morning while you were at the gym, remember? Besides, the album is almost done so not really much to do right now other than finishing touches and post-album production stuff,” you sigh. 

“Oh right, right,” he remembers. “Okay, how about baking something? Maybe cookies? I can help too,” he suggests. 

“Ran out of flour last week,” you frown. “I was going to ask if we could stop by the store on the way home from the gardens to pick some up so I could make Cinnamon Rolls tomorrow but well, that plan went down the drain,” you say as you run your fingers through your hair. 

“Damn. Okay, what about a movie? I know we’ve been meaning to watch the new Hunger Games movie for a while but never got around to it,” he asks, hoping to see your frown turn upside down into the smile he loves to see on your face, but it doesn’t. You just let out another sigh and bite your bottom lip, feeling bad that nothing was helping you feel better and he was trying his best. 

He watches as your face stays the same, feeling bad that he couldn’t do anything to help you. He felt that if you were in New York or LA, you could probably find something to keep you entertained and busy with no problem, but here you couldn’t. Joe sat there for a few seconds, contemplating what else to suggest to cure your boredom, and then had a lightbulb moment.

He reached out to grab your waist, easily picking you up off your barstool and placing you on his lap. “Joe, what’re you doing?” you giggled as he moved your legs so that you were seated comfortably on him.

He looked into your eyes for a few seconds, the feeling of him gazing deeply into you sending chills down your body before you felt him crash his lips against yours. You feel his hand fall down to your ass, softly kneading the plush skin through your leggings as he sucked on your bottom lip. He pulls away, “This always keeps us busy, right?” he laughs against your lips before going back to the kiss. You slowly wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer as your hands play with his soft hair. 

“My favorite way to pass time,” you smile as you pull away from his lips, taking in how his skin is glowing in the soft light of your home. 

“Sorry our garden plans got ruined,” he said, his smile dropping slightly. 

“Hey, that’s not your fault. The rain just doesn’t want us to take 50 thousand pictures of the gorgeous flowers,” you joke, causing a laugh to leave his lips. 

“Yeah, but it still sucks. We were looking forward to that for a while and it’s probably one of the few exciting things for you to explore around here. If you were in LA or New York you would never be bored like you are here. You probably feel like you’re trapped here,” he says, looking to the side to hide his guilt. He felt guilty because you gave up what looked like the dream lifestyle, to live with him. He loved Cincinnati, but it was nothing compared to the places you used to spend most of your time in, and you were here because of him. 

“Hey, don’t ever say that again,” you say, moving his face so that he was looking into your eyes. “I chose to move here with you. I don’t give a damn about the flashy shit any other place had to offer. Neither of those places has the thing that truly makes me happy, and that’s you. As long as you’re here, I don’t care about being bored and I certainly don’t feel trapped. Besides, Cincy is far from boring. Not a week passes by that I’m not running around the city with the girls or discovering new things,” you add, watching his gloomy expression brighten at your reassuring words. “I just wanted to do something with you, that’s all,” you finish by pressing a kiss to his soft lips. 

“And I still get to do what I love from here,” you add. “I didn’t really see myself permanently being in Los Angeles or New York anyway. You know that I love lowkey,” you smile. 

“Is this lowkey enough for you?” He asks, referring to the house and the life you were now a part of. 

“Oh, 100%,” you nod. “I could def go out to the patio and scream ‘I love Joe Burrow’ at the top of my lungs through a megaphone without the paparazzi showing up,”.

He lets out a soft laugh before saying, “They won’t show up, but you might tip off the fan girls and they’ll figure out where we live,”.

“I guess I’ll have to pull out these guns,” you joke as you show off your arm muscles. “I think I can fight off the Burrow girlies. Maybe even bribe them with a peek at some photos of you on my phone,” you wink.

“Okayyy, I think that’s enough,” he says as he rolls his head around, then moves it back to meet your eyes. Nobody needed to see the photos you had of Joe on your phone. Some were silly and innocent, but some were a little too spicy for the public eye. “You always know how to get rid of the doubts in my mind,” Joe laughs as he rubs your thigh. 

“What would you ever do without me?” you tease as you press a kiss to his cheek. “But in all seriousness, don’t say that again. You know I love it here, no reason to overthink it,” you say, softening your serious words with another kiss but this time to his perfect nose.

“Okay,” he laughs. “No more overthinking from here on out,”.

“Good. If you said one more thing, I’d have your ass sleep out in the rain,” you joke.

“Hm, if you kicked me out then we wouldn’t be able to do this,” he says as he starts to trail kisses up your neck. 

“I guess you’re right,” you say as you pull his face out of your neck and back up to your face, pressing your lips against his and running your hands across his chest. 

You feel him get off the barstool with you still in his lap. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist as he carries you both back to the couch, his lips remaining glued to yours the entire time. You feel him nipping your lip, causing you to moan into the kiss while feeling heat climb up your body and that warm feeling inside of you getting stronger. 

He sits down on the couch and places you next to him, both of you ripping off your clothes with urgency, then feeling yourself fall back flat against the couch with Joe on top of you.

Your lips met in another messy kiss as you felt Joe guide himself in between your drenched folds, eventually slipping inside you all the way, causing you to let out a throaty moan at the sudden fullness.

“Joe,” you gasp, throwing your head back against the couch. He began pressing kisses along your collarbone, before moving up your neck and back to your lips. Your hands moved to his back, scratching his soft skin, leaving red marks as breathy moans escaped your lips at the feeling of him thrusting into your wet heat.

“Sound so pretty,” he smirks as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. His hand lifts your leg up and bends your knee, allowing him to move deeper. You feel your wetness coating your lower halves, your eyes moving down and watching as he slides in and out of your core with each rough thrust. 

“F- Fuck, you feel so good,” you whimper, moving your hands into his hair and pulling him closer to you. 

The next few minutes pass by like a dream as Joe continues to send your body to its pleasure, your breathy moans and sounds of skin hitting skin filling the house as he continues to pound into you. Your name was on his lips as if he was chanting a sacred prayer. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so-,” he rasps but you cut him off with another moan, this one a little louder than the rest as he just hit a spot inside you that he hadn’t before. 

“Joe, Oh my god,” you whine as you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. Nothing could compare to the feeling of him inside of you. This was your favorite and best way to pass time, and you could do this for eternity and manage to never get bored of it. You felt your arousal building up with each well-placed thrust, just mere moments away from reaching your high. Your skin was heating up and your breath hitched every time he rutted into your slit. 

“I’m close,” you moan, throwing your head to the side and closing your eyes. Your hand gripped the couch pillow as you were struggling to hold yourself together. You felt his hand move down to your clit, fondling with the sensitive bud to set off your pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt your walls fluttering around his cock.

“Joe,” you screamed as you felt him move his hand away from your clit, just as you were about to cum. “Why’d you s- stop?” you rasped. 

“Hang on,” he said as he was increasing the pace of his thrusts, which was only increasing your need for feeling your high.

“Shit, Joe. I’m gonna cum,” you panted as you moved your head back up to meet his eyes, 

“Wait for me,” he ordered, his hands moving to grip your waist and his pace becoming more frantic. 

“Oh, Joe,” you hissed, your muscles tensing and hips bucking against his. 

“Fuck, I’m almost there,” he groaned. You moved your lips down to his neck, sucking on his soft golden skin, searching for his sweet spot. You knew you found it when you felt his head drop down to your shoulder and his lips softly biting your skin.

“God, you’re so good,” he mumbled against your skin as his thrusts became sporadic, signaling he was close. 

“Joe, I can’t,” you pant as you struggle to hold in your release. 

“It’s okay,” he says as he moves his hand back down to your clit, his fingers rubbing circles around the bud as your walls convulse around his cock again. You were about to cum, but this time he was right there with you.

“I’m cumming,” you whimpered as you felt a wave of ecstasy wash over you, feeling your body shake violently at your release. At the same time, Joe lets out a groan before you feel his cock twitch inside of you, then feeling his release coat your walls. 

“Oh my god,” he moans as he slows his thrusts, eventually stopping while pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. 

“Holy shit,” you pant, your heart racing from the aftermath of your orgasm, your hand stuffed in his hair as he breathes against your shoulder. Both of you trying to come back down to earth after feeling shocks of pure pleasure light your bodies on fire. 

“You still bored?” Joe chuckles as he lifts his head out of your shoulder, his hair all messy and his lips swollen from all your kisses. 

“Nope,” you smile as you press a sweet kiss to his lips. You both spend a few moments basking in the post-sex afterglow before you feel Joe gently slide out of you, then feeling him get off of you. 

You crane your neck to the side as you watch him grab his clothes from the pile on the floor, putting on his sweatpants but handing you his long-sleeved shirt. 

“Here, put this on,” he said, handing you his shirt but placing it on the couch so he could help you up first. 

He reaches for your waist, moves you up, and places a pillow behind your back for extra comfort. “Thank you,” you smile at the sweet gesture, then reach for his shirt to put on. You slip on the light green long-sleeved shirt and then reach down to grab your pink lace panties. As you're putting them on, you see Joe walk back to the kitchen from the corner of your eye. 

“You need help with anything?” You wince as you turn around, your entire body tired and sore.

“I’m good. Just making you coffee,” He says, shooting you a smile before pulling out a mug from the cabinet. 

You turn back around, a content smile on your face as you relish the feeling of your boyfriend taking such good care of you. Life couldn’t possibly get better than this. Your caring boyfriend was walking around the kitchen in just his sweatpants, making you a cup of coffee after rearranging your guts while you were curled up on the couch in his shirt. You don’t know what you did to deserve someone so dreamy & precious like Joe, but you definitely were not complaining.

Joe knew you deserved this. You deserve to be loved without any limitations, to be respected and supported by someone who understands the real you. He made it his job to make sure you felt comfortable, loved, and appreciated when you were with him; and he made sure you felt that way even if you weren’t. So yeah, placing a pillow behind your back, getting you a cup of coffee, and giving you his shirt to put on didn’t really seem like a lot, but it was everything that you wanted and it made you feel all those things. The little things in a relationship were what you craved, and Joe was exceptional at making it happen. 

“I also got you a slice of the Banana Bread my Mom brought over the other day,” he said as he placed the plate and cup next to you, snapping you out of your daze. 

“Thank you, Joey,” you grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips before he walked back to the kitchen to clean up. 

You grabbed the coffee mug and took a little sip, tasting the rich vanilla flavor as it warmed your cold body. You then took a bite of the Banana Bread his Mom had made for you both, you never got tired of her baking because it tasted just like your Mom’s. You grabbed your phone from the table and immediately pulled up her contact to send her a text, asking for the recipe and letting her know that it was delicious. 

“Mmm, this is so good,” you groan as you take another bite. “Joe, you gotta have some,” you say as you turn around, but he wasn’t there. He was instead sitting at the Piano that you had got for the house. You stayed quiet, pursing your lips as you placed the snacks back down and turned your body so that you were facing him, his back to you. You could see faint scratches along his back from your nails, taking note that you should probably put some moisturizer on his back when you go upstairs. He looked so good right now, the sight of him at your piano, shirtless, was sending you into orbit. 

Before you could say something, you heard a melodious tune fill the air, a familiar one. You watched as Joe worked his fingers along the keys of the piano, playing a song that he had been working on for the past few weeks. When you first got the Piano for the living room, he had asked you if he could also use it, which came to your surprise since he didn’t know how to play. 

Flashback to February  

“But you don’t know how to play?” you asked as you ran your fingers across the keys of the piano.

“I have the best teacher in the entire world at my fingertips though,” he smiled as he moved his hand on top of yours as you played a few notes; his touch was so gentle and so warm.

“You really want to learn how to play piano?” you asked, looking up at him.

“I really want to learn how to play piano,” he nodded. “If you can throw a football back and forth with me, I can learn how to do what you do,”.

You stared up at him for a few seconds before saying, “Deal” and watching his face light up at your response. There was no way Joe was actually going to learn how to play the Piano right? He was an athlete, not a musician; unless he was Troy Bolton and had a secret hidden musical talent.

“I’ll give him 2 weeks before he quits,” you thought to yourself. 

End of Flashback

He didn’t quit. He passed the two-week marker and still was keen on learning how to play, even sitting at the Piano without you and playing by himself using tutorials and testing out his own ideas. It was truly incredible how he picked it up so quickly, and he always was so eager to show off his skills to you. 

He kept playing, the song he chose was ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ by Arctic Monkeys, one of his personal favorites. 

“Secrets I have held in my heart, Are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours. I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours. Wanna be yours,” you whispered, singing the part of the song he was playing on the Piano. 

You were about to sing the next lines, but then you heard the sounds coming from the Piano shift to another tune by a seamless transition. This one was even more familiar and made your eyes widen.

 He was playing ‘Endgame’, your song. The song you wrote about the desire to be Joe’s Endgame. It touched on your reputations and how you both had a pretty big one and together would be the talk of the town, which you were. It talked about how you wanted to be the one for him and the things you both went through to bring you to one another. It mentioned how captivated you are by him, his eyes, his body; his handprints all over your soul that could never be smeared. You wanted Joe in your life forever.

This song was the final addition to the album, which had been heavily inspired by Joe, and he was playing it on the Piano for you, and not the other way around. He had never asked to learn how to play one of your songs, so this took you by surprise. 

You watched as he pressed all the right keys, hit every note, and played the song effortlessly. Your stomach was now filled with butterflies as the smile on your face got bigger. You got off the couch and slowly walked over to him, singing the lyrics of the song to match what he was playing on the Piano. 

“I don't wanna hurt you, I just wanna be, Drinking on a beach, With you all over me. I know what they all say, But I ain't trying to play,” you sing as you cup the nape of his neck with your hand, rubbing your fingers into his soft skin. A smile appears on Joe’s face as he hears you singing while he plays your song.  

“I wanna be your end game. I wanna be your first string. I wanna be your A-Team. I wanna be your end game, end game,” you sing as you slide onto the bench next to him and rest your head against his shoulder, ghosting your fingers over his as they dance around the keys. Your heart was exploding right now, no guy had ever done this–played your song for you. He was serenading you in the best possible way. 

“Big reputation, big reputation. Oh, you and me, we got big reputations. Ah, and you heard about me. Oh, I got some big enemies. Big reputation, big reputation. Oh, you and me would be a big conversation. Ah, and I heard about you. Oh, you like the bad ones too,” you sing as you hear the Piano fade out. 

You stay silent for a few seconds as you try to process what just happened, tears filling your eyes at the plethora of emotions you are experiencing. The fact that he just played a song you wrote about him, to you, was something you couldn’t comprehend. You felt Joe’s hand move from the keys to yours, entwining your fingers and bringing them up to his lips to press a kiss. 

“You’ve gotten really good at that,” you say, breaking the silence as you turn your head to look up at him.

“Learned from the best of the best,” he smiled. 

“You killed it, Joe. Seriously, I have your Grammy waiting upstairs,” you laughed. “When did you even have time to learn ‘Endgame’? I finished that song not that long ago,” you added.

“Well, I found a copy of your sheet music on the table and started practicing it when you weren’t at home,” he chuckled. You looked into his eyes again, your eyes a little glossy and his filled with adoration. 

“What?” he asked, noticing your teary expression. 

“Thank you,” you said as you wiped your eyes. 

“For what, Y/N?” he asked as he moved his hand to cup your face and wipe the tears that fell from your eyes. 

“Nobody has ever done that for me and you- you just,” you say, not being able to find words that would express your feelings. 

“No reason to thank me,” he says. “I’m just appreciating the talents of the most gifted and extraordinary Woman I have ever met in my entire life,” he says, making your heart explode again. “You deserve to be shown how amazing you are, musically & as a person,”. 

“Besides, I know you love the little things,” he winks. 

“You are truly the best Man I have ever met in all the years I have been alive,” you smile before pressing a big kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says against your lips before going back for another one.

“And I love you,” you say back, pressing more kisses around his face. “I should get you in the studio with me next time. I think a Piano feature is in your future,” you wink. 

“Oookay, I know I’m good but let’s not go that far yet,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Whatever you say, Troy Bolton,” you joke. He rolls his eyes at you as you cite ‘High School Musical’, which you happened to force him to watch with you a few weeks ago.

“Don’t be mad,” you shrug. “Not my fault you’re athletically and musically talented,”. 

“I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?” he laughs.

“Never,” you say as you press another kiss to his lips, his hand moving to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Then, you feel his hands wrap around your waist, picking you up off the bench and carrying you up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” you giggle as you pull away from the kiss.

“Round 2, obviously,” he scoffs.

“Ohhh,” you nod. “I did get pretty worked up seeing you playing the Piano with a bedhead and just in sweats,”.

“I knew you would,” he smiled as he opened your bedroom door.

“Do I get to be serenaded again after we’re done?” you ask him, tilting your head and praying he would play again for you. 

“If you’re lucky,” he winks as he places you down on the bed.

You reach out and pull him down to the bed next to you, then throwing your leg over his hips so that you are straddling him. 

“Then I’ll make sure I get lucky,” you whisper as you lean down to kiss him.

–The End–

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

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Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea. 

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties. 

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha. 

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut. 

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food. 

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[historiaxvanserra]

Fluff where reader reveals she’s pregnant with one of the batboys 🥹 and Rhys/Cassian/Azriel are in tears of joy

Little Love | Pregnancy Headcannons

thank you for the request love! I couldn't choose who to write about so I'm going to do headcanon style so I can write about everyone's favourite bat boys! I also had so much fun with these that I will eventually do like a mini-series where each of the boys gets a standalone fic about finding out their going to be dads!

Rhysand

Rhys is TERRIFIED when he finds out! our boy is a worrier you best believe it keeps him up at night sometimes.

BUT!!! he's also absolutely in awe of you, and the way your body changes and grows.

he's genuinely mystified by how you can carry on as (relatively) normal when your body is doing this amazing thing.

HE'S SUCH A GODDAMNED FLIRT! constantly compliments you. He wants you to know how much he worships you and your stomach that is full of his growing child.

Rhysand is convinced it's a boy and will have a name picked and everything but there is a soft part of him that can't wait for a daughter to spoil.

He 1000% cries when your baby is placed in his arms for the first time.

He spends the rest of the day thanking you every chance he gets.

Cassian

Cass genuinely LAUGHS when you tell him-- like a genuine bellow before it melts into one of those laugh/cry situations and then he wraps his big arms around you and just won't let go.

Then he runs to tell all of his family. He practically screams it to anyone who will listen.

He paints the nursery immediately.

He DEFINITELY talks to your stomach-- sometimes he wakes you up late in the night talking too loudly to your growing bump.

PREGNANCY SEX!!!! this man can not keep his hands off you. If it makes you feel good all you have to do is ask and this man will jump your bones.

Cass is EXCITED but sometimes he lets to mask slip a little and he reveals that he's worried that he doesn't have what it takes to be a good dad.

He's such a doting dad and your child will always be loved unconditionally.

Azriel

Azriel is the one who gets THE MOST emotional about it-- our favourite soft!boy cries as he sinks to his knees and presses his head to your stomach.

He's also the most scared to become a dad. The gravity of the situation is not lost on him but he's a fairly logical man so the panic doesn't last long.

Like Rhys he treats you like a QUEEN the entire pregnancy and gladly caters to your every whim.

Azriel worships the ground you walk on already but making him a dad makes his FERAL.

Labour absolutely paralyzes him like nothing else-- he's not scared of the blood but he HATES seeing you in that much pain. If he could take it all away he could in an instant.

Sometimes you catch him awake at night just watching you both so devoutly because "what did he ever do to deserve this?"

Lullaby KING! He has such a soft voice and he likes to sing to your baby when he thinks nobody is listening.

[chvoswxtch]

revenge

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle

summary: matt may have won the battle, but frank wins the war.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: there's not enough brat taming frank, especially in terms of frank brat taming matt, and I took that personally. this is the last installment in this accidental little mini series, and it's pure filth. enjoy, xoxo.

word count: 1.7k

[part one: jealousy] [part two: forgiveness]

The second that Matt pulled Frank in by the back of his neck, Frank’s plump lips wrapped around your clit and he began to suck fervently. The sudden sensation had you nearly jumping off Matt’s lap, and if it weren’t for his strong hands holding you forcefully in place with his blunt nails digging into your hips, you wouldn’t have even been able to sit up right any longer.

The feeling of Frank’s wide, warm tongue flicking over your clit back and forth repeatedly like a metronome while Matt stretched out your pussy with his thick cock at a legato tempo was almost too much to handle. Frank aided in keeping your legs spread wide open with his broad shoulders nestled between your thighs, preventing them from closing even an inch. Matt groaned lowly into your ear every time Frank’s greedy tongue swiped over his sensitive cock while he devoured your pussy. His large nose rubbed against your clit deliciously as his tongue teased Matt’s sensitive balls, paying repentance to you both simultaneously on his knees for his previous teasing actions. 

You had been blissfully, but painfully edged by them both, and you weren’t going to last another minute. From Frank’s skilled fingers to Matt’s sinful mouth, and now the combination of Frank’s ravenous tongue and Matt’s unrelenting cock…you weren’t seconds from combusting. Matt had been ready to come in his office earlier just from hearing the way Frank had touched you over the phone, and you knew he was just as close as you were. Matt was moaning a string of curses and prayers into your ear, leaving marks on your waist with his iron grip, and the sloppy rhythm of his hips pistoning upwards into your own chaotically indicated his own fuse was about to detonate.

Frank’s teeth gently grazing over your overstimulated clit started the chain reaction of fireworks that abruptly exploded within you and Matt both. Your fingers tugged roughly at Frank’s unruly ebony waves as you bucked your hips against his face, a cacophony of moans leaving your lips that were directed at the Heavens as your head fell back against Matt’s shoulder. While you rode out your high against Frank’s face, Matt buried his face into your neck and bit down on your flesh sharply while gripping onto your throat, a feral grunt echoing in your ears as he emptied his pent up arousal deep within you with irregular spasmodic thrusts.

The apartment was silent apart from the sound of you and Matt panting heavily, and while the two of you were basking in the afterglow of gratification, Frank had risen to his feet with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Because if there was one thing that fueled Frank Castle more than anything in this world, it was revenge.

The sharp sound of leather snapping pulled you and Matt out of your euphoric trance, and your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and awe seeing that Frank had ripped his own belt apart to free his hands. Frank swiftly reached out to grab you by your waist to remove you from Matt’s lap, and you winced slightly at the sudden motion and loss of contact when he pulled you off Matt’s softened cock.

“Sorry darlin’, ‘scuse me a minute.”

His voice was gruff while he gently set you down on the opposite side of the couch, laced with a dangerously low timbre that indicated there was no room for an argument. He had never used that particular tone with you, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of recognition on Matt’s face, and he instantly tensed up. His half-lidded hazel eyes that had been glossed over with rapture were now wide open and shining clear with apprehension.

“Frank-”

Matt’s desperate plea was quickly caught off by Frank’s large hand darting out to grab Matt by his throat. Frank had Matt at a complete disadvantage, and he knew it. While Matt was still coming down from his high and depleted of the energy he had used in fucking you to prove a point, Frank was running off pure adrenaline and ready to prove one of his own.

“If I had a fuckin’ attitude comin’ home it’s cause you’re an impatient and selfish fucker, Red. You get her to yourself all the goddamn time, and I can’t get twelve hours alone with her without you showin’ your fuckin’ ass.”

While Frank moved his hand up to yank Matt’s head back forcefully by gripping onto his hair, Matt let out a soft grunt that was layered with arousal and a twinge of displeasure. You watched with an almost unhinged jaw as Frank freed his fully erect cock from his jeans and guided himself past Matt’s welcoming lips. The three of you seemed to moan in unison; Frank from finally getting some relief, Matt from the taste of Frank and the thrill of being used, and you from the delectable sight in front of you.

“Maybe everytime I come home, I need to make sure you got a taste of my cock in that fuckin’ bratty mouth of yours so you’ll remember who the fuck you’re s’posed to be sharin’ with, yeah?”

Matt only moaned around Frank’s thick cock in response. Frank didn’t give Matt any time at all to protest or adjust to having Frank’s cock practically shoved down his throat, and quickly began to fuck Matt’s face at a brutal pace. The sounds coming from both of them were downright pornographic, and it made you wet all over again. Frank’s full brows were knit slightly in concentration as he continued to harshly grip onto Matt’s hair, and his plump lips were parted in pleasure while he watched intently as Matt sucked his cock with a sense of urgency.

“Ain’t runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth now, are ya? ‘Bout time you put it to good use.”

Your hand snaked its way between your thighs of its own accord, and you began to slowly tease your clit as you watched Frank dominate Matt. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, God it was a sight to behold. Matt was usually the more dominant of the two, especially when it came to you. There were rare times Frank let himself lose control, but for the most part, he was mostly gentle. Still, it always excited you when you got to witness even a tiny fragment of why they called him the Punisher. Right now he was fucking Matt’s face with a vegeance, and you were steadily approaching your second orgasm of the night as you touched yourself to the incredible show in happening right before your eyes.

When Matt’s hand eagerly fisted around his cock, which was now fully erect again, Frank smacked his wrist away with a grunt, and he gripped at Matt’s throat with his free hand.

“What’d I say earlier, huh? No touchin’. Pull that shit again, and I’ll tie your ass up and make sure you can’t sit down for a fuckin’ week, altar boy.”

The sound of Matt whimpering around Frank’s cock made you moan in response, and Frank’s eyes suddenly snapped in your direction. His features that were hardened with retribution instantly softened into pure lust at the view of you with your legs spread and fingers toying with your soaked pussy. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his plump lips, and he released his grip on Matt’s throat to reach for you. 

“C’mere, baby. Bring that pretty pussy over here and lemme finish what I started ‘fore this asshole interrupted earlier.”

In a flash you were scrambling onto your knees, moaning at the taste of yourself lingering on Frank’s lips when he leaned in to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. While his large hand found its home between your legs and two of his thick fingers slipped easily into your cunt, his thumb rubbed purposeful circles over your clit, and his tongue slipped past your lips like he wanted to ravage you whole. Frank kept his rough grip on Matt’s hair, but he steadied his hips in favor of letting Matt suck him off at his own pace while Frank focused on fingering your needy cunt. 

Your head was spinning from the way Frank kissed you, like he was stealing the very essence of life right from your lungs. It was messy and frantic the way your tongues and teeth collided, and you grabbed onto the back of his neck and gripped onto his broad shoulder for support, moaning into his mouth as his hand worked expertly between your legs. 

Frank had said Matt couldn’t touch himself, but he never said that you couldn’t touch Matt, and he didn’t make a move to stop you as you blindly reached for Matt’s impatient cock. Matt instinctively grabbed onto your wrist and guided your hand towards his hardened cock, and the muffled moan of gratitude he let out from the contact made Frank shudder against you both. The three of you worked in tandem to bring the other to the peak of pleasure, and it didn’t take much longer for you all to collectively erupt into unmitigated elation.

Pulling his spent cock from Matt’s mouth, Frank fell back onto the couch between you two, putting his arms around both of your shoulders to pull you and Matt in towards his large body as you all attempted to catch your breath. When Frank pressed a soft kiss to the top of yours and Matt’s heads, your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet amused laugh at the sight of both your boyfriends sitting on the couch together with their pants around their ankles. 

After a few moments of silence, Frank cleared his throat and relaxed back further into the cushions, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch.

“So, what’s for lunch?”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[critterbitter]

I finally got all my brain ducks into enough of a row to send this! I just wanted to say that Tumblr recommended your art to me on a whim, and I am actually OBSESSED now lol. I had no prior investment in Submas or anything tangentially related to it prior to this (aside from liking Pokémon generally lol), but I couldn’t help but tear through everything you’ve drawn for these silly little rat children and I love them so much now!!! I wanna pick them up and shake him around like little action figures! The shenanigans and the heartfelt moments are just,, UGH so good! I have no words! Thank you for the food I am going FERAL over them <3

Your art is also high key goals for me now tbh. I absolutely ADORE your coloring and rendering style, and also they way you draw Pokémon in general?? Very animalistic but still recognizably Pokémon?? Literally galaxy brained. I’m going to SCREAM. I know you already posted a bit of your art process, but I’d love to know if you’ve got any rendering tips and/or how you get that clean but sketchy look. It looks so good I want to eat it lol.

(Also I really love the way you’ve been formatting Elesa’s dialog, with the extra lines around the letters. It really gives the vibe that her grasp on Galarian is currently shaky at best and idk, I like that you’ve managed to find a way to convey that over text. I think that’s pretty cool :D)

I SAW YOU REBLOG A WHOLE BUNCH AND IM,,, (throwing hearts at you)

Thank you so so much! I’m glad you love these terrible little guys wandering Unova just as much as I do, haha!

As a treat, lemme pull out some drafting for the mini illustrations. I usually start every snapshot with a run down of what I remember from the area, possible shenanigans encountered, and then a doodle of ideas to come.

From there, it’s a SUPER rough sketch, followed by lineart and rough color, and then cleanup!

(More thumbs and their finals below!)

At the end of the day, all my lines are VERY sketchy. I’m a lot stronger when it comes to mashing colors. That, and if you set your line layer from normal to multiply, the lines will always be automatically darker then whatever layer is placed underneath. It’s a trick used quite a bit for placing cel shadows in animation, but it’s useful for lineart in a pinch.

For colors, I like to stick to a limited pallet and branch out only after setting my primary colors. This entire series has been very experimental for me though, as you can probably tell.

As for the last bit— YES… YOU GET IT! As Elesa grows, the lines in her dialogue will start appearing less and less. It’s the little things that map the span of time for these guys.

Yippee!