#aren’t queue lonely?

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[cutehoons02]

TOO CLINGY WITH YOU?

* pairing: Jay x reader (grumpy x sunshine)

* tags: fluffy,kiss,a little smut,misunderstandings, jealousy

* synopsis: You liked Jay for a long time but could not admit your feelings and Jay seemed to not cling on anything (or maybe he was just pretending)

* word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

You and Jay were not engaged but neither friends, were in a limbo of uncertainties, and for the first time in your life you had seen Jay look at you sadly and go angry from your home. You and he were the perfect representation of grumpy x sunshine, only that you too were quite extrovert but only with those few people who made you feel comfortable; instead, he also talked to the walls, joked with everyone, made even the most shy and lonely people comfortable and for your misfortune flirted with most of the girls on campus. Before you met him and became his "friend" you knew of his reputation throughout the university but you would never have thought to express feelings for him…

That night you were watching a reality show you both loved, it was kind of "Too Hot To Handle" but in an Asian version, and every time they aired it you couldn’t stop laughing or gossiping about the contestants, or the choices made by the various authors of the program to make it more spicy but at the same time fun. Jay had his face resting on your breast. With one hand he drew you small circles in the lower back and a myriad of chills made their way into your body, it was the first time in your entire life that you felt so overwhelmed by a guy and were seriously afraid to let Jay know that you liked him, but at the same time you hated the feeling you had as he gently touched your body like a feather that could go away forever.

"Jay, could you move your head for a second? You’re squeezing my breasts and tomorrow should get me the period so they hurt me". A little laugh came out of the boy from Seattle and after a few seconds you had in front of your face a Jay with the tufts all in front and with a small smile, every time he smiled out of his little dimples that you loved to touch, but that night you needed all of Jay’s body attached to yours but at the same time you would send him away because you would regret telling him how you felt about him and you didn’t want to lose his company. "Why aren’t you even touching me with a finger Y/n? I’ve been trying to feel your hands on my body all night but it seems like i’m a ghost for you today! I know you don’t like physical contact with people but with me there was never any problem, until today." Jay’s eyes darkened and his jaw got as hard to make him look more man, your little hand came up to his face but was faster than you, and his hand immediately squeezed you and put it behind your head. "It’s not me that urges you to touch me but you must want me, what is going on in this little angel's, head for a couple of days i see you strange?"

You wanted to shout out to the world what you felt when you were with him, and it wasn’t just about his physical appearance but what you felt as you watched him push himself to reach his dreams,He warmed your heart whenever he helped someone in trouble with his positive statements,You loved to see him focused while he played something on the guitar or when he pulled your sweatshirt or your dress to stand by his side while you were at a party or just during the queue for coffee.

"You’re too clingy with me Jay, i’m not the one who doesn’t touch you but in this last period you are always attached to me like a puppy!" After you grabbed it, you felt Jay’s body move away from yours and a sense of emptiness struck you in the face of Jay fi formed a small wrinkle and after a few seconds stood up from your bed. "I didn’t seem that he was too sticky with you last week while i kissed you all over the body, but if for you i am a puppy who needs only you, you are mistaken big Y/n" Jay was wrong because you were the only one who made him feel like a boy at first with a thousand butterflies in his stomach while he watched you do the simplest things in this world, like petting a dog or preparing a cake together. He loved spending time with you and his feelings for that shy girl he saw for the first time at that party organized by his friend Jungwon, with time they had grown, also the jealousy to see you smiling with other guys had become a habit that grew more and more; but when you told her it was too sticky and that it bothered you her touch did not waste time to get away from you. He wanted to see if what he felt for you was real, For you too and so; he ended up at another party with all his dearest friends drinking and joking but a part of him would have liked to be in your company watching that stupid program where it was supposed to be about not feeling what the contestants did with you, because he would have wanted to kiss you from everything and claim that you were his.

The music was ringing all over the house and you were drinking your drink and listening to a guy who had come forward to ask if you wanted to dance with him, but your answer was no for the guy in front of you with red locks could not take his eyes off and flirt funnily but at the same time cringe with you. "I don’t like dancing, especially with a stranger and then i’m waiting for my boyfriend!" You told a white lie to the boy in front of you but you knew that somewhere in the house there was your best friend Jungwon, his friends, and surely also Jay.

You saw him coming closer and closer and your eyes moved intimidated by his sight to that of the center of the lounge until you felt yelling your name and a familiar hand leaned on the low bottom of your body "Angel you could have written me that you had just arrived at the party" The pressure of Jay’s hand was strong in your body and his obvious jaw hardened more when he saw you smiling to that ragged one with bordeux hair before his eyes, but after a few minutes he realized that you were not at all comfortable talking to that boy and a sense of jealousy and protection was affirmed throughout his body. "You better hold on tight, i asked her to dance but she told me she was engaged." You looked very bad to the boy in front of you and tried to get away from Jay’s hold but she became even more protective and tight towards you. "Quiet from next time i will always come with my girlfriend not leave her at the mercy of boys who can’t accept rejection!" a little smile came out of your lips and Jay’s hand took yours and you walked away from that boy and after a while you found yourself leaning against the wall of his room.

"Did Angel try to touch you without your consent or make jokes about how you’re dressed?" Jay’s gentle hand leaned against your face and the scent of whisky mixed with honey and a note of wood invaded you "No no, he just wanted to dance with me, but when i told him, i didn’t want to and that i was engaged he didn’t believe me because he saw me going in alone." "You don’t come alone to these kinds of parties anymore, guys can’t control themselves when they see a beautiful girl like you angel. Especially if they see a single girl dressed in such an attractive dress, even the most sane guy would have to ask you to dance with him and put his hands on your hips to the rhythm of music" a rosier infested your cheeks and a little rising heat ran through your body "stop flirting with me Jay, you’ve seen me dressed in this skirt and i have nothing less than other girls, and down at the party there will be more beautiful and more confident than me with guys."

"I know you think i’m a loser and you’ll call me "puppy" but it’s been more than a week since i touched you and i need to kiss you, when i saw you talking to that loser, a feeling of jealousy and protection burst in me. I know i’m not the guy of your dreams because i saw how you avoided me these days but fuck y/n i like you and can’t help being sticky with you, if you’re around" When you heard these words coming out of Jay you did not think for a moment and you put your lips in those of Jay, the kiss had started slowly but Jay had other plans with you, he had always pulled back because he was afraid that you ran away from him. She wanted to kiss you for hours but needed to feel your sweet scent of flowers and figs, so i put her lips in one of the most sensitive points of your body. He loved to kiss your neck and collarbones but the thing that made him crazy more than all was your breast and with a hint of yours he took off the top you had and with one hand he tickled your left breast and with his lips, he merged to fill you with kisses and mark your other breast,his big hand was perfect for your breasts and various moans came out of your mouth and a grin made its way into Jay’s lips.

"Angel you’re perfect for me, and no other guy will touch you for I don’t know how long because i don't like to share anything of mine, but if you want all this too you must strive not to be shy with me to tell me if it is too much or if you don’t like something you should not be ashamed to tell me" You put your hands on his face and kissed the little mole that he had on his forehead a strong sense of letting him know that you cared for him and that you liked to kiss the small butterfly-shaped birthmark/heart that he had on his neck.

[harrywavycurly]

I’m dying to see Harry trying to help with wedding planning because god that just seems like it would be so overwhelming 😫

Hiii babes!! I hope you enjoy this! I agree it seems like it would be so overwhelming and he would do his best to help anyway he can!💖

-find all things for the Lonely series here✨

A/N: You’re worried that you won’t have centerpieces for your wedding but Harry is there to help fix it all, enjoy✨

You try your hardest to keep your facial expression polite so you don’t let your eyebrows rise too much or your eyes get too big and you make sure your smile doesn’t falter not even for a second as Malory, the lovely woman showing you some examples of centerpieces for the tables at your reception, places a giant floral arrangement that’s full of red roses that’s in a jeweled vase on the table in front of you. You want to give up, this is the fifth arrangement she’s shown you and you don’t know where she’s getting the inspiration from because you had told her what the theme or vibe of your wedding was a few weeks ago when you called to set this appointment up and she had assured you she understood but so far nothing was giving you that impression at all.

“Is your fiancé joining us?” Malory asks with a smile as she stands next to the table holding the hideous flower arrangement.

“Yes he-”

“Sorry I’m late sweetheart Gem needed my approval on her dress and it took ages longer than intended.” As if on queue Harry walks through the door of the little shop and you instantly feel like you could cry the moment his eyes lock with yours and his soothing voice fills your ears.

It’s moments like these that you’re thankful that Harry has known you for as long as he has because he knows what’s going on the moment he sees you and takes in your glassy eyes and the way you’re biting your bottom lip, so he briefly looks away from you so he can give Malory a warm smile as he walks over to her. “Hi I’m Harry the fiancé of this lovely woman over here and I’m just wondering if I could get a few moments with her? Haven’t seen her all day and I just-”

“Oh of course! Yes I’m Malory and I’ll just go get the next few arrangements ready.” She gives him a knowing look and a playful wink as she pats Harry on the arm before she turns and heads off towards the back leaving you and Harry alone in the front of the shop. The moment she is out of sight Harry is turning around and taking the few steps over to you so he’s standing in front of you wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest while his lips press a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks as he gives you a nice squeeze as you let out a deep sigh and close your eyes and let yourself get engulfed in the comfort that is just being with Harry, he’s always been able to wrap you up in his arms and make you forget about the world around you and you need that in this moment more than anything.

“They’re all ugly.” You mumble with your eyes still closed as your arms snake around his middle pulling him closer to you. Harry begins to run his hands up and down your back as he places a kiss to the side of your head. “We get married in nine months and we aren’t going to have any centerpieces.” You explain as you try to fight back to urge to just let out a frustrated sob because you didn’t think picking out a centerpiece would be difficult but it’s proving to be just that.

Now Harry isn’t going to lie and say he’s been the best at helping plan this wedding, he has left a lot of the details to you but does give his honest opinions when you ask for them but lately he’s been able to tell that the few wedding related tasks left have been a bit more daunting and he’s adamant on not letting you have a breakdown over something like a seating chart or flower arrangements. So when you asked him to come help pick centerpieces he didn’t hesitate to say yes, he knows what the vision is for the wedding and the reception and he knows that with the help of Jane, the wedding planner the two of you hired once you realized planning a wedding on your own wasn’t something you were cut out for, it shouldn’t be an issue to get exactly what you’re looking for. But going off of the way you’re practically clinging to him and on the brink of full on crying in the middle of this flower shop he is clearly mistaken. Harry decides in that moment when he feels your grip on him tighten as he hears you let out a shaky breath that he is going to make sure you leave this shop with a smile on your face.

“We are going to have centerpieces love don’t worry.” His voice is soft and soothing in your ear as he begins to ever so gently rock you back and forth a bit in his arms. “Let’s have a look at the options she’s shown you so far yeah?” You open your eyes and look up at him so your chin is resting on his chest and Harry looks down at you and gives you a reassuring smile as he leans down and places a quick kiss to your lips.

You reluctantly let go of him as he loosens his hold on you so you can turn around in his arms. His hands move to your shoulders as he walks a half step behind you as you lead him over to row of tables that hold the examples of centerpieces Malory has given you so far. As he stands there Harry can’t help but raise an eyebrow as he looks at them, he doesn’t know why the lovely shop owner would show these to you after you gave her the inspiration for the wedding because these don’t fit the theme at all so he can understand why you feel defeated and upset.

“This can’t be right.” You just shrug at Harry’s words as you look at the arrangements again trying to maybe find one you don’t dislike too much. “You told her where we are getting married and everything?” He asks and you nod because yes you told Malory all the details of your wedding.

“Yes and I think she even talked to Jane as well.” You answer and Harry is officially dumbfounded but he doesn’t have time to ask anything else before Malory walks in with another centerpiece in her hands and this one is no where close to what you’re looking for with all the bright pink and white flowers sticking out of a clear vase with a big pink tule bow wrapped around it. Harry feels your shoulders slump under his hands and even though he can’t see your face he knows you well enough to know you’re putting on your best fake smile as you look the arrangement over.

“This one can be done is different heights as well and we can add candles around it or-”

“I’m sorry Malory but are you sure these are for our wedding?” Harry doesn’t want to be rude but he also doesn’t want to look at anymore centerpieces that aren’t anywhere near what you want and he knows you’re too polite to say anything so he will happily do it for you. Malory turns her attention away from the arrangement and faces Harry with a slight look of concern on her face so Harry does what he does best and turns on the charm flashing her a smile that shows off his dimples as his gently squeezes your shoulders.

“I only ask because while these are just lovely arrangements,” she smiles and you see a slight blush take over her cheeks and you almost feel bad because you know how overwhelming Harry’s smile and slow and soothing tone can be especially when you’re not prepared for it. “They aren’t really the right fit for our wedding.” He explains with a warm smile and Malory looks away from Harry’s intense stare so she can turn and grab her clipboard off the table next to the last arrangement she brought out.

“Let’s see the notes I have for your wedding are classical glamorous romance with reds and pinks but also the classic touches of white-”

“Sorry for interrupting but whose wedding is that for? Because that’s not ours.” Harry asks in a soft tone as he continues to soothingly rub your shoulders, he knows you’re on edge because you don’t like this sort of thing and he’s aware you view this as a form of confrontation and you would rather just look at arrangements that you hate than tell Malory you don’t think these are meant for your wedding.

“Oh god I’m so sorry these are for the Gibbs wedding.” You feel your whole body relax as Malory admits the mistake because you now know it’s not that she doesn’t understand your vision for the wedding it’s just that she had the completely wrong wedding in mind.

“Ah that explains it then because we are the Styles wedding.” Harry states as Malory gives you an apologetic smile as she reaches for one of your hands.

“You must’ve been freaking out oh my goodness I’m so sorry.” You let out a sigh of relief making Malory chuckle as she gives your hand a squeeze. “Again I’m so sorry about this but let me just go grab your sheet and show you some examples that actually fit your wedding theme okay?” You just nod as she gives your hand one last squeeze before letting it go and heading off to the back to grab your sheet and start setting up some examples of centerpieces you’ll actually like.

“How do you do that?” Harry raises an eyebrow at you as you turn around so you’re looking up at him with a look of almost disbelief on your face because you really don’t get how he manages to just swoop in a save the day all the time.

“Do what?”

“You come in here and I’m on the verge of a breakdown and not even five minutes later is all fixed.”

“I just don’t like it when you’re upset.” He answers as he places a hand on the side of your face while he other one rests on your hip. “So I try to fix it as quickly as I can so if that means I have to tell Malory that she has to start over with the arrangements then so be it.” He explains with a shrug because for Harry it comes without any hesitation to do whatever he has to in order to make you feel better. That’s just how he’s been since the day you met all those years ago so he has no plans on stopping and if anything now he’s just willing to do even more to stop your tears because you’re going to be his wife soon and the idea of you being upset makes his heart sink to the bottom of his chest.

“I’m so happy it was just a little mixup.” Harry smiles as he watches you look genuinely more relaxed as you lean into his touch.

“Me too because I really didn’t want to have to fire her.” You roll your eyes making Harry raise an eyebrow at you. “What? You don’t think I’d do it?”

“You can’t fire her Harry because we haven’t hired her yet.” You state as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck. “This is like the test run and if we see something we like then Jane will handle setting it all up for the day of.” Harry just nods and you begin messing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“Well just for the record I’d happily fire her if I needed to.”

“Really?”

“There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you love.” You smile at his answer as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead before he leans all the way down and places a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you.” He mumbles against your lips before giving you one more little peck.

“I love you too” Harry can’t help but grin as he pulls away because he’ll never get tired of hearing those words leave your mouth.

“Okay now tell me does this fit your wedding more?” Harry’s hand drops from your face and your arms go from around his neck as Malory appears with one of the most beautiful arrangements you’ve ever seen in her hands. Harry smiles as he watches you walk over to the table she carefully sets it down on so you can get a closer look but he can tell by the smile on your face that you love it.

“This is gorgeous.” Your answer makes Malory smile as she goes to grab another example for the two of you to look at. “We might actually have centerpieces at our wedding.” Harry chuckles as you turn and stare at him with a giant smile on your face as you excitedly clap your hands and do your signature happy dance.

“Thank god because what’s a wedding without centerpieces?”

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

8 letters, 3 words!

synopsis: confessions are tricky.

genre: fluff

characters: lyney x gn! reader

warnings: modern (college) au, reader is referred to in 2nd person, navia + lynette cameo

a/n: hehe hi @ariicandy! i'm your secret admirer for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss don't tell event :> hope you like this gift hehe happy valentine's!! likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

“oh my, y/n, you really do have expensive taste.” navia grins at you from across the table. “did you win the lottery, or something?”

you huff. “no, i found them on my table.” the second you open the lid of the (previously) beautifully decorated tin box, the sweet fragrance of macarons wafts into your nostrils— you almost miss the way your friend’s jaw drops as she openly gapes at the treats. 

“what?” 

“you… er, well, do you know what those are?” navia gleefully looks between you and the macarons.

there’s a soft clink as lynette sets down her teacup. “5 bucks they have no clue,” she bets, earning a soft “tsk” from you and a smug navia crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. 

“of course i do! they’re macarons! hey–” you protest, as navia dissolves into giggles and lynette sighs, “hey– listen, listen, i may have flunked midterms but that doesn’t mean i—stop laughing!—that doesn’t mean i don’t know a sweet treat when i see one, okay!”

lynette leans forward, an odd glint in her eyes. “these aren’t your ordinary macarons, you know. there’s only one bakery that sells them like this, and people queue for hours just so they can get their hands on one of these– they only sell eleven boxes each day, mind you. it’s like you’re saying your louis vuitton is just some random bag you picked off the streets. a single box can quite literally cost you the skin of your a–”

you cut her off. “i think we know what you mean, just take some if you wanna try ‘em, okay?” 

“still, who’d gift you something so expensive?” navia muses, chewing on the lemon macaron she’d nicked while you weren’t looking. 

“probably the same mystery guy who gave me that plushie bouquet the other day, and then those chocolates from yesterday, and also probably that box of pâte de fruits…” you hum in thought, utterly oblivious to your friends’ astounded gazes.

“...y/n, i think you might have a secret admirer.” 

“wha– hey, wait! what was with that tone when you said ‘who’d give me something that pricey’? you tryna say i’m not worth those?!?”

laughter echoes across the empty cafeteria as you lunge at navia and screech something about wanting her to return the macaron. none of you notice the pair of periwinkle eyes fixed on your figure from afar.

—

“ooooh, does someone have a secret admirer~?” navia peeks over your shoulder at the white envelope lying innocently on your desk. “y’know,” she continues, unfazed by your side-eye, “if it’s the same guy that got you those macarons, maybe you should consider getting–”

“shut up,” you grumble, feeling your ears heat up, “i don’t even know who gave me all these.” 

“do people not normally sign their names somewhere?”

“just the initials.” you unfold the enclosed paper, pointing to the very bottom, where the letters LS were printed. “who’s that supposed to be? lonely spirit?”

you don’t see a certain someone’s eyes dim when you don’t bother reading the letter and shove the envelope into your bag.

—

13 february. 7 days since you started receiving letters. 7 days since you got your first plushie bouquet (how the sender knew your favourite blooms and even your favourite character was a mystery you had yet to solve). and 1 day before valentine’s. 

the letter you got today was way simpler than the flowery words that filled the pages from before:

3 boxes, 8 letters. think you’ll be able to figure it out, ma chérie? that’s the key to your last gift.

(hint: the way each letter starts is important. good luck♡)

“the way each letter starts?” lynette shrugs, “no idea. probably something like the first letter of the first word.”

“lynette,” you begin, “you’re a genius!”

one problem, though. you only received 5 letters. oh, well, didn’t hurt to try, right?

“let’s see…” you lay out the letters on the table, trying hard to ignore the contents that made you blush so furiously in the safety of your bedroom. “u, l, v, o, i, e…” you mutter, before navia gives you a light shove.

“no way it’s taking you so long, isn’t it already so obvious?”

“???”

“rearrange the letters—where’s my pen— and what do you get?”

you stare mutely at the letters. “...i love u.” you read, before you’re hit with a realisation.

“wait– boxes are containers, and then words are like containers for letters– and then, and then… and then i love you makes up eight letters in three letters! i’m a genius!”

“if you’re such a genius, you should’ve noticed a certain someone staring at you.” lynette nods at a point behind you, “go get your man, y/n. i don’t wanna hear complaints about being single for valentine’s.”

you turn– and there stood lyney snezhevich, in all his glory, a bouquet in his hand. he offers you an apprehensive smile as he extends his arms for you to accept the flowers—your final gift— and averts his eyes. 

“seems you’ve managed to crack the code, ma chérie. now, then, if you hadn’t known from the letters… will you be my valentine?”

taglist: @yinyinggie @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain @thexianzhoujade @dailypenpen (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

[gbrogut]

It’s late at night, and I just got out of the movies. I walk about a mile, spot a hotdog stand, and queue up. The hotdog guy asks me, “How many?” I ask for one. “Yes, just one.” He delivers my food, and I sit in a spot that seems reserved just for me. I sit alone.

All around me, people talk, sip from their soda bottles, and bite into their hot dogs. They laugh, they chew, they swallow. I’m still alone, but I’m not lonely. It’s a cold night, and the sky is clear. The moon and the stars have no idea I exist. I’m not lonely.

Then, without warning, tears rush to my eyes. I realize how lucky I am to be alive right here and now, at a time when I am free to be me. It isn’t easy being me, but then again, it mustn’t be easy for anybody. We struggle between feeling too old or too young.

Some things feel so easy they bore us, others are just too damn hard. And yet, we are alive to live through this frustration, to do our complaining, and to shake our fist at the sky while we scream, “It’s not fair!” Of course it isn’t.

Now the tears are gone, and so is my hotdog. I must go home now and write down these silly thoughts so I can show them to somebody, anybody, who might care enough to read them so they can have a laugh, no matter where in the world they are.

You see…they forget we share the same moon and the same stars. They forget I am just like them. They forget that, even though they are alone, they aren’t lonely either, for I exist, and so do my words.

I hope they haven’t forgotten we are lucky to be alive. We are lucky to be here. We are lucky to be free to laugh together. I hope they haven’t forgotten.

[in-a-mountain-pool]

Supermassive Black Hole Ch3

Ettore x Reader

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: Explicit/18+

warnings: NSFW/minors DNI, mutual masturbation, smut, mentions of violence

word count: ~5500

summary: A cosmic event brings Ettore and Y/N closer together, and it’s only a matter of time before the two collide.

A/N: This was a whopper of a chapter! I’ve not written smut in ages so I found writing this a bit of a challenge! I hope the wait was worth it... Beautiful space theme borders by saradika​. As always, comments, likes and reblogs aren’t needed, but always lovely to come online to!

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In the days that followed, Monte had hardly even looked at Y/N. Every mealtime the canteen would be bustling with the crew and inmates, but suddenly Monte was a no show.

It was their evening mealtime, and Ettore was standing in the queue watching her over his shoulder as she sat there alone. He’d watched her do the same thing for three days now, sitting there with a plate ready for Monte, and beside her an empty chair.

The arsehole was avoiding her like a soppy schoolkid.

Even to him it seemed unnecessarily cold. The concentrated way that she’d bite at her plush bottom lip, the way she tapped her foot nervously against the linoleum floor almost made him angry for her. Since her last run in with Monte she’d taken to sitting alone in the rec room with a cheap pair of headphones in her ears listening to music, which were now slung loose around her neck.

Without Monte, it seemed her existence was to be a lonely one.

This was it. This was the perfect chance for him to make a move, ingratiate himself to her and reel her in. It had become more than just about fucking her. More than anything Ettore wanted her to choose him over Monte.

He wanted her to want him just as much as he had craved her attentions.

And when it did inevitably happen, he wanted her to beg and scrape for him just as much as she did for Monte. But he would make sure she got what she deserved and more, whether she wanted it or not.

Yet, in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think about how much it upset him to see her so lonely like that. She was nice. She was truly sweet. She didn’t seem to belong in a place like this. She didn’t seem that well equipped to deal with the sort of people here either.

The sort of person he was.

He’d wanted to take advantage of her. Afterall, it wouldn’t be that hard. Her innocence only made him want her more and more. But could he really go through with it when the time came? Could he force someone like her when push came to shove?

He was shaken from his reverie when a tray was shoved into his hands, almost spilling the cup of processed water all over his front. Before his mind could keep up with his body, he was already making his way over to her table, taking a seat in the chair opposite Y/N.

“This seat taken?” He smirked, gesturing at the tray she’d brought for Monte, laying cold and untouched. When she shrugs and avoids his gaze, he can’t help but prod.

“A simple yes or no would have been enough, princess.”

He haphazardly chucks his tray onto the table and skims is his eyes over her. “Got a bra on today, I see? Shame. I’d gotten used to seeing those tits of yours.”

When she almost drops her cutlery and scowls up at him, he raises his hands up in a mock surrender and giggles with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Am jokin’, am jokin’. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” With a sly grin he winks at her and digs into his meal, talking with his mouth full.

“So, what’s his name is a no-show again eh’?”

She eyes him warily sighing as she starts to drink the water she’d brought for Monte.

“… No. ‘What’s his name’ is avoiding me like the plague. You’d honestly think I’d killed someone or something.”

Now this was something he was very intrigued by. He used to like to guess exactly what it was that each inmate had done, but to him she was a blank slate. He raises an eyebrow at this and quirks his lips upwards with a teasing lilt to his voice, “Well, did you?”

Y/N gives him a lopsided smile and shakes her head, refusing to say a word and shoving the extra tray towards him playfully.

God she was a mystery to him.

“Eat up. It’ll only go to waste if you don’t. So… Why you are you sat here with me today?”

Her voice drops to a nervous whisper as she leans over the table slightly, pretending to hand him the salt. “You’re not gonna try to blackmail me for breaking the rules with Monte, are you?”

His blue eyes flash to hers intensely for a moment before he shoots her a smug smile, pursing his lips and sucking his teeth as he rakes his eyes over her.

“Now why would I do that? We said it would be our secret, didn’t we? And I never break a promise. Especially not when there’s a pretty girl on the line.”

He starts to wolf down Monte’s dinner with a wide grin on his face, manners long forgotten. “Nah… I just wanted to check in, make sure that you weren’t losing your mind over that loser.”

She sips her water and eyes him over the rim of the plastic cup before she replies with a small cheeky, and not all too convincing smile. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m a big girl trust me.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I’ve always thought he was a jumped-up twat, and you deserve better.”

He decides to make small talk as he chews on a rather dry piece of bread, and points to her headphones with an impish look in his eyes. “Wotcha listening to? Let me guess, some Taylor Swift tunes about how much you hate your boyfriend and how he’s ruined your life?”

She doesn’t take the bait, and just shakes her head softly. When she silently takes an earphone and offers it out to him he’s taken aback by her openness. Her fingers brush against his palm for only a moment and he can hardly ignore the sharp, warm feeling inside his chest.

He hadn’t been touched by anyone in weeks, except for in acts of violence, but here she was, gentle and unassuming, being kind to him of all people.

Ettore lifts the headphone to his ear and can only smirk, his eyes wide with surprise when he hears the music playing.

“Oh… classical music, is it? So, you’re one of those rich snobby girls then?”

She shakes her head in disbelief and bites her lip smiling at him. “I’m hardly a posh girl, and definitely not rich. It’s just- nice and calming to listen to in a place like this…” She trails off for a moment before her eyes flash with a look of mischief. “I’m terribly sorry to ruin whatever weird fantasy of me you have rolling around that head of yours.”

With a cheeky laugh he passes the headphone back to her with the same gentleness she’d shown him earlier, resting it back around her neck, his finger catching on a lock of her hair as he does so.

It was nice to touch her. Even nicer to be touched by her.  

Ettore coughs awkwardly and licks his lip trying to recover himself. “So… I can’t imagine you as a Catholic school girl, then? With one of those little, short skirts and the knee-high socks, anymore? You’re breaking my heart, Y/N.”

The sweet sound she makes as she laughs does something to him, and for a moment all he can picture is her smile and the way she gazed at Monte that morning just a week before in the canteen.

But this time it was him who’d made her laugh.

This time she was here, eating dinner with him.

Y/N shakes her head at him in disapproval, a bashful look on her face as she picks up their trays and makes ready to leave. “You need to get your head checked out, Ettore.”

Don’t go yet, he thinks to himself.

“I bet you were clever though.” The words leave his mouth before he can even process his thoughts.

He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to make this last longer, if only for a minute.  

“I bet you were a real nerd at school. I’d probably have stolen your lunch money, wouldn’t I?”

That sound again.

She lets out a small giggle, shaking her head at him as she walks away from him, walking backwards so she can face him. “Again, not posh enough for that!”

And just like that, she was gone again.

Ettore exhaled deeply looked down at the empty space in front of him intensely, tapping his finger on the side of the steel table, as he other gripped the side so hard his knuckles turned white.

Why was he being so fucking needy?

He tries to shake the stupid grin off his face for just being near her. He tries to ignore that feeling in his gut, that deep immense feeling of want as she touched his hand.

Why on earth was he making jokes about Catholic school girls and Taylor Swift!?

Just how long could he wait until he just he just took her?

Why the fuck hadn’t he already?!

He didn’t give a shit about Monte, and he wasn’t scared of him, not by a long shot. He was going to have to take her tonight. No more games of cat and mouse. He was the predator, and she was the prey.

And that was that.

But then his agitated movements stopped altogether at once, his breath catching in his throat and his chest tightening almost painfully as his eyes flickered down, the light catching something on his arm… for there on the sleeve of his sweater was a strand of her hair.

And all he can think of is the content of her smile. 

The night that follows was a restless one, and not only for thoughts of her.

He’d lain for hours staring at the ceiling twirling the lock of her hair gently between his fingers and agonising over her before he’d finally been able to fall asleep.

But not for long.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

The stark blue lighting of ship flickered on and off intermittently, leaving the corridors veiled in darkness before the sound of a shrill alarm startled him awake suddenly. The guards stormed into their cell block ordering them loudly to line up outside their rooms.

Tcherney and Monte were already outside by the time Ettore had stumbled out of his cell. With no time to grab a shirt or shoes, he’d slumped against the wall with only his grey sweatpants slung low on his slim hips. He squinted his eyes at the harsh blue lights in the corridor as Dr Dibs walked hurriedly towards their block to address them.

There had been a rare and shifting phenomenon. The black hole they were orbiting, or the ‘corona’, as she had called it, was emitting X-ray flares. The X-rays released had disrupted the ships generators, meaning conservation of power was of the utmost importance to ensure their experiments could continue. Only half of the ship could be powered for the foreseeable future, meaning the men’s cell block was to be shut down, and the male inmates were to temporarily share with the women.

They filed out towards the women’s cell block, the guards tired and pushing them forward impatiently as Dr Dibs assigned the rooms out loud, struggling to be heard over the piercing sound of the alarms. Boyse was to share with Tcherney, Dr Dibs would take Monte to the labs to assist with monitoring their life support systems, and, to his utter delight, Y/N would bunk with him.

Ettore couldn’t help but lock eyes with Monte at hearing this. He was, in a word, seething, his hand curling into a tight fist at his side and his nostrils flaring as he glared right back at him.

That’s right prick, she’s mine.

A sneering grin painted Ettore’s face. He childishly wiggled his eyebrows at him suggestively as he strolled into Y/N’s cell, accidentally shoulder checking Monte on his way past.

And there she was.

But then his smirk faltered when he finally saw her.

Y/N was laying down on her side upon the bottom bunk, curled up into a little ball. She looked so small and fragile, draped in an oversized shirt (her own this time), with a skimpy pair of shorts peeking out from beneath.

That chestnut brown hair of hers was fanned out on the pillow beneath her, making that now all too familiar ache in his chest return once again as he tried to compose himself. When she speaks, her green eyes search his nervously, her soft voice almost impossible to make out against the alarms.

“Should we be worried…? Are we going to be safe? Dibs- she said they were closing off half of the ship to keep up the life support systems... Has this happened before?”

She was frightened.

A wave of protectiveness hits him as he tentatively sits on the side of her bunk, watching her like a hawk as if he was afraid one false movement would scare her off completely.

His voice comes out hoarse and intense, and for a moment he’s worried that she’ll be afraid of him.

She should be afraid of him.

“… Don’t worry, this shit happens all of the time. The ship is an old heap of junk. Trust me, I’ve seen it all and this… this is fine. We’ll be fine.”

Y/N gazes up at him wide eyed with a look of pure trust, and once again he’s struck with a deep agonising pang of guilt in his chest.

He was a monster.

He was a monster for even thinking about wanting to hurt her, for wanting to force her when she was such a sweet and delicate thing.

She trusted him. He’d ruin her. And he knew it.

The alarms finally stop and a deep quiet fills the cell block as the inmates start to fall asleep. She doesn’t say anything to him, just nods slowly and her eyes flicker down to the bed as she turns over to face the wall.

Ettore is on autopilot when he climbs onto the top bunk, laying there so close to her and yet so far away that he can hardly breath. He lies back with his forearm covering his face and his eyes screwed shut, trying more than anything to focus on sleeping.

All he can see is her, her body, her eyes.

The conflict inside his head is almost as loud as the alarms before, his thoughts echoing loudly in his ears as he tossed and turned. He could have been there for seconds, minutes, hours, he wasn’t sure.

All he felt was the need to be with her.

The deep want to know her better than Monte ever could.

The desire to have her and the perverted thoughts he’d wanted to act upon now that he was alone with her.

But all of this was silenced when she finally speaks again.

“Th-…Thank you. For being nice to me… You cheered me up today. You even made me laugh.”

His eyes flicker open in surprise, as he sits up absorbing her words and nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

There was a mirror opposite them at the end of the bunk bed, and in the dark blue light of the room he could just about make out her form.

And there she was, doing exactly the same as him, sat cross-legged and staring up at his reflection pensively, nervously picking at the nail bed of her thumb.

“… You… you don’t really talk to anyone here. Except me. Why? And… answer honestly, be serious for once.”

Ettore wasn’t sure if it was the fact he was so sleep deprived, so crazed with desire for her, or if it was some side effect of the cosmic event outside, but the words just seemed to flow out of him on their own.

There was no room for hesitation. Not now.

“Well… I talk to you… because I like the way you make me feel. I like… how innocent you are. How soft you look... You’re not like the rest of us. Not like me, anyway.”

And there, just there…. There was something in the way Y/N looked at him in the reflection in front of him that convinced him. He’d felt it every time they’d spoken. He’d seen it in the way her eyes would meet his as they passed by each other outside the box. He seen the way her gaze had lingered on his toned body when he’d entered the room.

She was attracted to him.

Her cheeks were flushed and her lips pouted. It was undeniable.

Her eyes fluttered downwards when his blue eyes flashed to her body, taking in her slim long legs and the delicate trace of her collarbones peeking out from beneath the low collar of her shirt.

In her silence he decides to continue, his voice thick and hoarse, trying hard to think straight as he watches her drinking in the sight of his bare chest once again in the low light of the room, heaving as it feels like all the air in the room has disappeared.

“… Because you're beautiful. Because I think I could make you happy… I could make you feel things you've never felt before. You would never need to ask me.”

He couldn’t help himself as he poured out his want for her all at once, listening to her gasp quietly at his shameless confession.

He watched transfixed as she licked her lip nervously, her doe eyes flitting from his body to the sheet beneath her over and over, thoughts racing through her mind.

“We won’t get this chance again. Just one night. No strings. I can make you forget about him. I promise.” He whispers, his voice gravelly and deep.

Her small voice comes out broken and shy against the darkness of the room. “Dibs… she said we couldn’t touch each other… and there’s Monte… and-” He cuts her off in desperation.

“Look… If you don't want me to touch you, I won't… But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy tonight. I can still keep you warm, help you relax. Just let me.”

Ettore’s toned torso shone in the blue light of the room, and he could feel her watching as his hand brushed down against the soft blonde hair that spread below his navel.

His icy blue eyes are fixed onto hers in the mirror, as ever so slowly he reaches down to caress the growing outline of his length in his trousers, his head lolling back a little as he continues to stare at her.

“No one has to know. It’s… just like using the box.” Ettore lets out a soft sigh when he sees her hand stroke softly up her thigh, all wide eyed and flushed.

“We’re not breaking any rules… you’re not cheating on Monte. Let’s use each other… Let me make you feel good.”

When her hand reaches the edge of her shorts the deep exhale that leaves his mouth is almost embarrassing as he starts to plead with her, his hand now gripping himself through his sweats, the bulge there impossible for her to ignore any longer.

“… Touch yourself for me. That's what you want, isn't it? To feel good? To feel wanted?”

Ettore shifts himself closer to the edge of the bunk and dropping forward onto his knees to see her more clearly beneath him in the mirror’s reflection. A devilish smile appears on his face when he takes in the sheen of sweat shining on her body already.

She wanted this.

“You'd like it, wouldn't you? For me to tell you what to do… you love the sound of my voice, don’t you?”

He lets his hand slip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, he hadn’t bothered to wear any underwear. His cock is impossibly hard and weeping as he grips it tightly at the base, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he can gather the courage to continue.

“Take off your shorts for me.”

He can hardly believe his eyes when she disappears from view for a second, shifting on the bunk bed to pull down her shorts, leaving her in a small pair of black standard issue panties.

“Good girl... Now, move closer to the edge of the bunk so I can see you.”

Y/N slides forward to the edge of the bed, leaning on her knees wantonly and gazing up at him with that gorgeous mouth of hers hanging open softly. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of her, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as a soft groan escapes his throat. The black fabric of her panties was soaked, the crotch shining with slick even in the low light of the cell.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. You’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you…” He hisses, his voice drops lower still, a jealous flash covering his eyes. “Tell me, has Monte ever got you this soaked?”

He tries desperately to ignore the pang in his chest when she doesn’t reply, pushing it to the back of his mind as he gazes slack jawed at the wet spot forming at her covered centre.

Ettore sucks his teeth and tuts at her shaking his head. “I wish you would let me touch you.”

His eyes search hers shyly as he finally reaches his hands down and pulls off his grey sweatpants to ease the tension there, his flushed cock springing free from their confines.

Ettore spits into his palm, wincing as his long fingers wrap around the base of his stiff length, working their way upwards and stroking his thumb over his swollen pink head. Her eyes were fixed on him pleasuring himself, rubbing his thick and leaking cock up and down slowly.

Ettore chuckled darkly at the way she bit her lip hard enough to bleed as she leered at him.

He knew he was big.

“I shouldn’t have to waste any of my spit when your pussy is wet enough for the both of us…” Blue eyes stare intensely into hers as his tongue flicks out to lick his lips suggestively. “…but I’ll play along for you.”

A faint smile ghosts across her face as she leans forwards to look at his reflection even closer.

Oh god, she was enjoying it. She fucking wanted this. She wanted him.

“Do you like what you see, gorgeous? It’s all for you. Only you.” He croons, his eyes hooded now, as his fist gently pumps his hard cock teasingly. “Pull them down for me sweetheart, and spread your legs wider… I need to see you.”

And she did.

Without a single word, without a single thought, Y/N pulled down her panties, placed her feet down on the bed and spread her thighs wider, leaning back as she revealed herself to him completely.

And she was perfect.

She was beautiful.

“Oh shit, you really are wet… and all shaved and neat for me too?” Ettore’s body shudders, his shoulder slumping forwards as he places his free hand down onto the hard mattress to lean closer to the mirror, stroking his cock to the sight of her dripping cunt.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy… and for what? Monte isn’t even using you… Such a waste.”

He swallows harshly as his fingers traces the underside of his cock, pressing down on the thick vein running along his length. “Now… suck your fingers for me. Get them nice and wet.”

He squeezes the base of his cock with a stuttered groan as she hollows her rosy cheeks, her pink lips framing her fingers prettily as she takes them knuckle deep into her mouth.

“If I was allowed to touch you, I wouldn’t use my hand… but for now, I just want you to just circle your clit. And when you do... I need you to watch me.”

He sees her, and the reflection in her eyes tells him exactly what she’s thinking. Ettore leans even closer to the mirror watching her hesitate.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N, or are you afraid of what you might like?” He growls.

“I won’t tell, I promise. We both know we need this... So please… play with yourself for me.”

When her small fingers finally slide from her soft thigh to her swollen folds it’s hard for him not to whimper out loud, a half-sob spilling from her throat at the sensation. And just like he’d asked, her sweet face remained fixed onto the sight of him.

“Shh... be quiet, or we’ll get caught.” He gravels out.

His eyes dart between his heavy length in his hand and her fingers sinking into her heat to swipe slick over her throbbing clit in tight circles, soft mewling noises coaxed from her heart shaped lips.

The harsh blue lighting makes the head of his cock shine as he covers himself with a mix of his own spit and precum, gazing down at her glistening core in the reflection of the mirror.

The sloppy sound of her finger now pumping into her wet cunt is almost obscene, echoing in the room and sending a wave of heat straight down to the base of his spine. His voice comes out more desperate than he’d planned it to… he’d never felt this way about anyone.

“… Do you like this? Does it make you feel good seeing how hard you make me?”

“Ah… I… fuck, it does, Ettore. It feels amazing.” Her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as she lets of a soft high-pitched whine, covering her mouth and face hastily with her spare hand like she was ashamed by how wanting she was.

Ettore grunts and shakes slightly as he fists himself tightly, struggling to get his words out clearly.

“You know why that is, baby girl? Because you know I’ll take care of you. I know what you need. You might be a good girl out there… but this here, this is the real you. And it’s so fucking beautiful.”

She whimpers again as she fucks herself with her finger, throwing her head back in pleasure as he praises her. He sinks his hand down to cup his balls softly, pinching the soft skin of his ball sack and rolling it between his index finger and thumb, his hard dick on show for her and bobbing in front of the mirror.

His jaw hangs open slightly, his tight abs contracting and relaxing as he works himself, matching the pace at which she pumps her finger into her pulsing heat. “God I wish you’d let me fuck you.”

“Every night I go to the box I think about you, Y/N. Did you know that? God you’ve been so needy this week, like bitch in heat haven’t you?” Ettore groans out raggedly, gripping at his cock.

She’s only able to respond with a pathetic nod of her head, her words failing her at his blatant admission.

“I know… I know, baby girl… You want more don’t you? But it was you who said I couldn’t touch you.” He snickers teasingly as a thought comes to him.

“Get your pillow and put it under your ass for me.”

When she does this he can see her juices dripping down her inner thighs to soak the white fabric underneath her. She’s splayed out for him even better now, her slick pooling into the tight puckered hole beneath her pussy in a way that has him completely transfixed.

The noises in the darkened room are lewd and wet as he fists his cock faster now. Grunts and whimpers fill the air as she adds another finger, sloppily pumping her them into her core, the new angle helping her reach that sensitive patch inside herself, making her mewl pathetically.

“Do you always think about Monte in the box? Or have you ever thought about me? Please… tell me you’ve thought about this cock….”

She let out a desperate whine and screws up her face as the truth spills out of her. “I did… I do… I- I saw you.” She pants out, her hand reaching up underneath her shirt to paw at her tits desperately.

“I saw you in the corridor that day… I knew what you were doing… I’ve thought about it. Thought about you.”

Everything stops for a moment, his movement falters, his breath hitches, and his eyes focus only on her face.

She knew. She’d seen. And she’d carried on like nothing had even happened.

The makes something in him snap and he has to stop for a moment, his hands shaking and his cheeks flushing a deep pink as he desperately tries to hold off his climax.

“F-Fuck, Y/N. I knew it. Oh… you’re such a fucking good girl… Why didn’t you tell Monte?

The way he growls and pants only urges her on further, she can’t even form the words she’s so drunk on the feeling of him, the pleasure, his jealously, the feeling of him wanting her.

“Answer me. Why didn’t you tell him?”

She whimpers yet again and quickens her pace, and he can’t help but laugh out loud bitterly.

She’d been protecting him. She was just as perverted as him. She’d liked it.

“You can’t even say it… Oh… you love my attention don’t you? You want someone to notice you… Naughty girl. Monte’s just a boy and you need a real man don’t you?”

She nods pathetically in the reflection of the mirror, her cheeks pink and her expression wanton and shameless.

“Why don’t you give Daddy your panties and I’ll let you finish?”

Wordlessly she shakily passes her soaked panties to him from the bottom bunk, his fingers brushing her wet fingers and gathering some of the slick coating them. He brings them to his face, visibly shaking when he inhales her scent before sinking his fingers and her juices into his mouth.

“Oh shittt… you taste sweet. Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever tasted…”

He grabs his own pillow now, shoving it inbetween his legs. He wanted to finish with her and the thought of touching his cock with his slick covered fingers was just too much to handle.

Ettore hips begin to rock slowly, dragging his length over the fabric as he begins to hump against the soft pillow. His hands rest tightly on his hips as his chest begins to rise and fall jaggedly, watching her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, her thighs shaking now.

“Oh, you poor girl… you need to cum don’t you? I can see it in your eyes… Tell me.”

“I need- Ah- I need to cum. The box… it’s not enough… I need to cum, I need…”

He continues to rut against the mattress, his cock swollen red as he takes his other hand down to twist and squeeze his balls. He rubs his nose into the crotch of her panties, breathing in her scent and panting pathetically.

Ettore grunts a little angrily now and lets out a low bitter laugh.

“You need to cum… what, baby girl?”

He smirks and snarls a little, licking at her panties crotch and locking eyes with her in the mirror when she finally says the words he’d dreamed of hearing.

“I need to cum…. Daddy.”

With her confession, everything starts to lose control and their movements become more frenzied, Ettore rutting so eagerly against the pillow that the whole bed frame starts to squeak, and he finds he can barely hold on anymore.

“Fuck! Show me your tits and make yourself come. Pinch them, fuck yourself… I can’t hold on much longer…”

She drags her shirt up to her neck revealing her heaving breasts, they’re moving now she’s pumping into herself so hard and fast. When she pinches her nipples her jaw hangs open, her eyes screw shut… and then she’s there.

With a soft high-pitched whine, she’s climaxing hard, squirting onto the pillow and biting her lip so hard she breaks the soft skin.

He doesn’t give her much time to recover, and quickly lays on his side on the top bunk, rapidly fisting his pink flushed cock.

“Y/N, get up, open your mouth and take what I’m gonna give you.”

Doing as she’s told, she shakily jumps up to face the bunk, gripping the frame tightly to steady herself. Her sweet, blushed face is level with his cock as she opens her mouth to him, tongue out and waiting. Within a few seconds he leans forward and spills onto her tongue with a deep guttural moan, coating her lips and chin with hot ropes of his cum.

And just like that the moment is over. He slumps down laying on his back panting, gazing down at her as she wordlessly swallows his spend and licks her lips to clean up the rest.

He couldn’t believe she’d actually done it.

…Had she really wanted this?

Should he kiss her? Would she even want him to?

He can barely think straight, his forearm coming up to cover his face as he lays there catching his breath, sweat cooling on his skin. When he finally opens his eyes again she’s already gone, laying down on the bottom bunk and dressing hastily.

Fuck. He should say something. Say anything.

“… Thanks.” He swallows and stutters awkwardly, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you… you did… finish didn’t you?”

Her voice comes out small and shy again, she’s retreated further back now under the bunk that he can no longer see her in the mirror, and something about this makes his stomach lurch.

“I did, yeah. Uhm… Thanks.”

Silence.

Not another word was exchanged between the of them for the rest of the night.

He’d thought about this for days, how he’d take her, how he’d force her, how he might hurt her, but there and then, in that very moment… he hadn’t been able to bring himself to lay a single finger on her.

He’d planned to make her his.

But somehow, laying there spent and exhausted in the dark, Ettore felt like it was her who had branded him.

Taglist: @qyburnsghost​ , @babyblue711​ Please comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist! :3

[welcometololaland]

i keep missing these but it was nice to see tags from people (thank you so much everyone, it's nice to know people haven't forgotten about me lol) so i thought fuck it? even though it's friday? i never know what to post because 1/2 my tags are lone star and 1/2 are rwrb so have both i guess?

10 Things I Hate About You AU (an incident during sex)

—TK actually headbutts the ceiling. Hard. “Oh my god,” Carlos yelps as TK winces, one hand flying to the top of his head on instinct. He looks up and realises that the ceiling is way closer than it should be. “TK, are you okay?” “Yeah,” TK insists, even though when he opens both eyes the room looks a little fuzzy around the edges. “I’m fine. Keep going.” “I am— What?” Carlos asks incredulously. “TK, you could have a concussion!” “I don’t!” TK protests, even though he actually has no idea. The fact is, he might die if Carlos pulls out right now. “I’m fine.” “You almost put your head through the ceiling,” Carlos argues. “I can’t—” “You can’t or you don’t want to,” TK pouts. “Because I want to.” “TK, you’re leaning to the side,” Carlos points out drily. TK shakes his head. “No, I’m not.” “Yes, you are,” Carlos insists. “And stop shaking your head. Oh my god, aren’t you the one with the medical training?”

Eurotrip (alex is mad that he cockblocked himself)

Henry’s gut instinct is to apologise, but he holds his tongue. Instead, an incredulous laugh bubbles up in his throat. “Would you like me to insult you instead?” he asks, trying to keep his expression neutral despite the fact that he can feel his cheeks twitching. “No,” Alex mumbles. “But maybe you could agree to a blowjob in a confessional, or something.” “We are not having sex in a cathedral,” Henry replies, biting his lip in an increased effort to keep the laughter in. “I’m as agnostic as they come but that is a touch too sacrilegious for me.” “Fine,” Alex replies, his expression softening as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Bloody hypocrite, Henry thinks. “A castle then. A non-religious monument. A museum!” “Most of those places have tight security,” Henry points out. “I’d rather take my chances at the hostel.” “Not with Prudence around,” Alex mutters darkly. “She’s everywhere.” “She’s probably here right now,” Henry teases. Alex pretends to look under the table, then ducks his head back into view. “Either that or she’s been kidnapped.” “Alex, you can’t say that—” “I can and I will,” Alex insists. “But it doesn’t change that we have two more nights of forced celibacy before I can do some very bad things to you.”

thank you so much for the tags everyone! your sninppets are in my queue! @freneticfloetry @carlos-tk @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @firenati0n @sherryvalli @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @birdclowns @orchidscript @three-drink-amy @lemonlyman-dotcom @cha-melodius @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @suseagull04 @kiwiana-writes (and @hippolotamus for the last sentence game). Tagging you all back for next week!

also, just thinking about a few people i haven't seen words from recently (sorry if i missed) so tagging @goodways @reyesstrand @never-blooms @lightningboltreader @treluna4 @everwitch-magiks @celeritas2997 @ambiguouspenny @daisymae-12 @liminalmemories21 @theghostofashton for next week/sunday/whenever you post something, please tag me so i can ready it :)

[grimmkinkmeme]

Welcome to the Grimm Kink Meme

Doing our part to reintroduce kink memes to the fandom ecosystem!

Credit to @wwdits-kink-meme for the idea and for their generosity in allowing other fandoms to use their blog as a template to start additional kink memes!

SUBMIT A KINK MEME HERE

FILL A PROMPT HERE

This post will be updated with frequently used tags for ease of navigation on mobile.

Questions? Check out our FAQ! (also under the cut for mobile users)

What is a kink meme? A kink meme is a public (usually nsfw) prompt thread, originally popularized on LiveJournal. One person will throw out an idea that they don’t or can’t fulfill themselves in the hopes that it will spark creativity in someone else. A kink meme can be as simple as pairing + trope, or a full well-thought-out AU.

How do I submit a kink meme? Use the ask button on this blog and it will go into the queue! You can submit anonymously (traditional), but it will be posted either way - make sure you click anonymous if you don’t want your face on it!

How do I fill a kink meme? Any way you like! Submissions are open for you to submit your prompt fills directly to this blog, but you can also do any of the following:

Reblog the ask post and put your fill in the body of the reblog

Make your own original post on tumblr and link back to the original prompt post

Post your prompt fill to AO3 or another fanfic archive and post a link on tumblr

Whatever you do, we just ask that you link the prompt on your creative piece and/or reblog the submission with your piece included or linked (whichever applicable). If you are putting an explicit fill in reblogs, please remember to add a community label if the original post doesn’t already have one!

Can I fill/submit an NSFW prompt if I am under 18? No, you should not do this. Doing so not only endangers you, but the adults in fandom as well. We can’t stop you from seeking out certain content if you want to see it, but you should not be interacting with adults on sexual topics.

Can I fill a prompt with art? Absolutely! If your craft is drawing, painting, crocheting, stop-motion, needlepoint, cosplay, etc. and you are inspired by a kink meme, we encourage you to participate! We also encourage adding alt text to any images.

What content do you allow in submissions? All ships and kinks are welcome - yes, even that one. Prompts not related to Grimm will be rejected. Venting, character-bashing, or incomprehensible prompts will be deleted. Transphobia, racism, misogyny, homophobia, antisemitism, Islamophobia, or ableism will get you blocked.

How are kink memes tagged? Tags will include any and all ships, kinks, applicable tropes, and potentially triggering content to the best of our ability. If something is missing or you would like to request a certain trigger tag, send an ask! Every possible trigger may not be tagged for, however, so it’s important to remember to protect yourself and your online experience.

Can I submit SFW prompts? Of course! Despite the name, kink memes aren’t just for porn.

Can I submit prompts with characters from the Grimm tie-in novels, comics, and games, too? Of course!

Can I submit prompts with my OC? No, but not because there’s anything wrong with OCs! These prompts are for someone else to fill, so it has to include characters they know.

Can I submit reader-insert or y/n prompts? Yes, as long as the other characters are from Grimm!

Can I submit crossover prompts? Not at this time.

Can I make my own kink meme for a different fandom using this blog as a template? This kink meme was created using the WWDITS Kink Meme as a template with permission of the generous mods as stated in their FAQ. I encourage you to check out their kink meme if you’d like a thorough starting point!

Who are the mods? Right now this blog is run by Jujubiest, one lone Grimmster who misses LiveJournal kink memes. If at some point we have additional mods, we will list them here.

[wren-writes-things]

Let's see... 1, 9, 12, 13 for the fandom ask games? :)

Oh hey Pixel! Thanks for asking.

OTP? 

Probably Sasharcy (of course in the context of Sashannarcy). I absolutely adore all variants of the Calamity Trio but I just tend to drift towards them. My guess is that the personality contrast, and possibly just how much they both need to grow and forgive each other. I don't know it just intrigues me.

I also really like platonic Zelink from the BotW/TotK iteration.

9. Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed!

Hmm... Pixel go read your own fanfic! Joking, probably

And I Know I Kissed You Before (But I Didn't Do It Right) - BearerOfTheBitterMoon (liminal-lesbian on here) - Okay I could put all of Mara's fanfics on here. Her writing style and story concepts are just amazing. But we'd be here all day, so we're not going to do that. This one specifically though, was just such an emotional rollercoaster (without leaving with permanent emotional trauma, ex: The Three Body Problem). It's very sweet, it's very sad and it all just feels so real. If that makes any sense

A Witch In Wartwood - Disect - I haven't finished the sequel fanfic yet, but I love this story. It had a very creative take on a Swap AU, and it did a really good job at capturing the essence of the original show while also completely being it's own thing.

Pinpoint - i'm-at-my-limit - Okay, I need to get caught up on this one, because I love the concept and I find it's characterization really interesting but I'm also behind by like two chapters because I wasn't reading as much for a while.

Across The Seven Seas - Heart_Wit_Strength - Did I successfully trick you into thinking I wasn't going to say this? Did it work? Seriously though this is one of those fanfics that I read, immediately reread and proceeded to think about for the next three days. I actually have fan art of it that I need to complete some day. I don't know what you did, but you succeeded at it.

Then there's this one fanfic about Sasha that I really like, but I cannot find it or remember what it is called.

(I have quite a few others that I really liked, these are just the four that were in my brain apparently)

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

So the same week that I created Daren, I also created what I call that Devil in the Details AU. Which is one of those AUs where it could be angsty, but I decided it was way funnier to write absurd shenanigans.

Basically Marcy, a lonely and aimless college student, opens a music box (gifted to her by her academic mentor, Andrias) and ends up with Darcy as the devil on her shoulder. Then Anne and Sasha are sent by heaven to prevent her from becoming corrupted and taken over by them.  

Of course, it’s a massive train wreck. 

Darcy is trying to convince Marcy that she should trust them. But because Sasha and Anne are almost always there they can only accomplish this through underhanded life coaching. (Though when Sasha and Anne aren’t there it’s manipulation is more direct).

Sasha is a nearly fallen angel who has taken to giving beneficial but selfish advice and also physically attacking any devils that she ends up paired with. 

Anne is just trying to get Sasha back on the right path and to find a way to get rid of Darcy so Marcy can go back to a normal life.

Then Marcy who was incredibly lonely finally has a social life and people that she can get engaged in her interests. So she’s convinced this is a great thing and is scheming to make it permanent. 

And from this queue all of the comedic shenanigans that could possibly come out of it. But also Anne and Sasha helping guide Marcy into making a life for herself that she really wants rather than what everyone kept telling her she wanted. While Darcy of course tries to counteract that because they assume she searching for a very specific type of success and do not understand any other idea.

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?

So ironically the answer here is also Sasharcy. I’m not sure how this happened but we have two Sashanne centric AUs (TOH and BotW) and two Marcanne centric ones (Witch Marcy and also BotW). But none of them have focused on Sasha and Marcy specifically (aside from post breakup in the Witch Marcy AU). It's a really interesting occurrence

[asinfullangel]

3 Sin

I got it: “false priest helping a soul reach heaven safely.”

(A drop of misfortune and one dash of sinner’s lust then, poof…)

A dark night within a village. People leaving church after mass was over and scattering around to their homes to rest the night away… Though it looks like there are a few that come to church even when the lights are put out. Covered in hoodies as dark as the night and each sitting in one queue waiting for someone. With a little poof of smoke then a new priest appears to commence a different sort of mass. I suppose demons and sinners do attend church in the cover of night though only praying for their own desires to come true in due time instead of mercy.

What came at a surprise was the main doors opening, moon light shining through that made the attendances run away in fear while the priest simply put on a more welcoming look. It Appeared that a man from town was running late to attend mass and though he had it though was sadly late, but the false priest just smiled at his arrival.

“Do come on and take a seat. Every soul no matter if on time or late will be granted a blessing.”

The man was out of wind while taking his seat, the others soon returned back though sitting out of this man’s sight. The show went on as what appear to be only demons attending watch in wonder what would the priest do with a human attendant.

“You, Alex, are in need of hope, aren’t you not?” Said Alex confused by his question. “A man that goes on with his life in question if this is all that I can do. Lonely, no family left to enjoy this life with and your body sadly showed signs that it cannot hold on for much longer.” These words came at a surprise while being true to Alex. a unlucky life he got and his body closer to the end that no one truly wished for. “Though at the very least I can promise you Alex something that should bring you peace in mind. Safe travel to heaven is what I can promise only when you are ready.” A soft stomach gurgle echo from the priest that only the demons heard then knew what he was planning.

The end of mass and the unholy attendances left out the door (though just stepping into the shadow in wait for a show to begin), Alex was heading towards the door while that promise loomed in his mind. The priest held the door open, but Alex stopped and took him upon that promise. Taken into the room that wasn’t built here before.

“Remove your clothing and place on the blindfold, fear you may feel while this process will grant you passage to heaven.”

Doing so, some body oil (tasting of bbq sauce with a hint of spice), a few words of blessing, then off with the priest's clothing and human disguise to get more comfortable. Mix of purple and red in color while his size grew to be taller than Alex, his hungry stomach more vocal for meat. “Pray to your god now, Alex.” One hand was enough to wrap around Alex's waistline. “Hopefully he would consider giving your soul a chance in heaven once you are done satisfying my hunger.” (You know what will happen next so…)

Alex was sealed inside with one last swallow then came down the faker priest lay on the ground, rubbing his gut with a drooling smile. The watchful shadows along the walls materialize back into physical demons that took onto their knees so they can enjoy Alex helpfulness squirming.

I suppose this is a good enough ending and bless to ya.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Reunited (2) Masterlist

part one

A Coincidence - doomedhowell

Summary: It’s been 15 years since Dan and Phil had broken up, and they’ve both moved on from each other and started new lives. Phil meets a young girl named Luna Howell, only to find that she’s the daughter of his ex-boyfriend who he happens to still be in love with.

Airports and Accidental Outings (ao3) - oliviawrites (LauraLittlemiss)

Summary: Phil moved away years ago, when Dan and Phil finally reunite they forget to tell their parents one arguably important fact.

all of these small things (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: It’s Dan’s first day back from his American tour, and Phil can’t believe how much he’s missed him

Believe In Fate - cozyfoxy

Summary: Dan and Phil are now in their mid thirties and haven’t spoken in years. One day while Phil’s in America, his son gets lost in the mall. Through fate, Dan is the one who helps Phil’s son.

‘cause you are home to me (ao3) - overmyhead

Summary: soon to be reunited homosexual homeowners and all the pheels

Change - doomedhowell

Summary: After four years of being together, Phil finds out that he’s pregnant with Dan’s child. While Phil is excited, Dan isn’t ready to settle down with a kid yet. They get into an argument and Phil leaves. 15 years later and they’re reunited again but Phil’s with his daughter.

Coming Home (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: Phil gets home from christmas holiday and Dan’s waiting.

Cops and Robbers - doomedhowell

Summary: It’s been four years since Dan broke up with Phil. They both went their separate ways and left the youtube world. Dan moved on and was making a living by being a cop. Phil, on the other hand, hadn’t exactly “moved on”.

envelop the lonely places (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Dan in his arms is like remembering how to breathe.

From Eden - transdimensional-void

Summary: It’s been twelve years since Dan last saw Phil, twelve years during which Dan has been to hell and back. It’s been twelve years since the boy Phil fell in love with vanished. But now Dan’s back, and he has a story to tell… (Songfic for From Eden by Hozier)

Good Love - transdimensional-void

Summary: Dan and Phil have rekindled their relationship, but rekindling their intimacy is harder.

His World (ao3) - Sinninghowlter

Summary: Dan opens the door and before him stands his world.

He’s finally home.

Home - doomedhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil are reunited after Dan being away in the army for four years. Things aren’t perfect when he returns, but they make it work eventually.

home is such a lonely place without you (ao3) - nivi_chip

Summary: Phil during the US leg, Dan finally coming home. Fluff ensues.

The Only Happiness I Want - thetummyhand

Summary: After a messy break up and no contact for four years, Dan and Phil run into each other at a bar and end up sleeping with each other. When morning comes Dan isn’t sure what he wants.

Unhappy Reunion - rosewoodpirate

Summary: Dan and Phil meet again after breaking up years earlier.

Welcome Home - auroraphilealis

Summary: Phil’s home from visiting his parents, and he can’t help but tease Dan, just a bit.

Welcome Home - switchdnp

Summary: Dan’s horny, and Phil just wants to rest. Queue soft, sleepy, just-got-back-home fluffy smut.

Welcome home! (never leave that long again) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan comes home from tour and stumbles right into Phil’s arms. He is more touch starved than he’d realised.

would it be okay if i came home to you (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: dan comes home after the US leg of his tour

[priya-san]

Inktober 2023 - Day 1 JojaMart

I'm going the multi prompt list and multi fandom this year! Basically this is my way of showing I have to many ideas and I can't commit to one, so I'm going to try them all! Will I succeed or crash any burn? Let's find out together!

Prompt taken from the Grapefruit Sky Inktober prompts!

Fandom: Stardew Valley Characters: Reshmi Lavari (my farmer), Morris Pairing: N/A Rating: M (CW: Swears, anxiety, corporate burnout, corporate guilt, mentions of a shitty ex)

The warm spring rain surrounded Reshmi, as she stood outside the stark white building on the furthermost corner of town. She gripped her umbrella tightly. Not even the gentle pitter patter of rain hitting her umbrella could sooth her in this state. She’d manage to avoid shopping at the local JojaMart for two months now, but after her Grandfather’s old toaster died this morning, Reshmi knew she couldn’t avoid it any longer.

You can do this, Resh. Just run in, grab the damn thing, and run out.

A cold blast of air greeted her as the automatic doors opened. Reshmi shielded her eyes from the harsh white light that lit up the store. Each JojaMart store was engineered in the exact same way, to get customers to spend as much as possible in the shortest amount of time. After fifty years of operating, JojaCorp had it down to an exact science. A science that Reshmi herself had helped push all across the country thorough her work with the legal team. The generic pop music that was playing in the background was interrupted by DJ Joja to let customers know that there was a limited time sale going on in aisle three. Reshmi watched as customers curiously wandered over, in an almost zombie like state, driven by the desire for a bargain. A shiver ran down her back. She swallowed the guilt she felt bubbling in her chest, and made her way to the appliance aisle.

The toaster was easy enough to find. While she hated to admit it, JojaMart really did have shockingly low prices. Driving to Grampleton and buying this same model at the local homewares store would have cost almost double if she counted the money needed for petrol. As soon as the farm did well enough, she was buying her new stove from a local retailer. She had to. With her new found resolve and guilt abated just a little, Reshmi made her way to the checkout queue. While waiting for the lone cashier to scan through the people in front of her, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“I can help you with that if you like.” A short man with glasses, and neatly swept back black hair grinned at her. He wore a full three piece suit and an obnoxious red tie. Reshmi mentally rolled her eyes, this had to be the manager. She nodded and the man led her to the customer service desk and scanned through the toaster. Reshmi pulled out her card to pay, but the man just grinned wider. “You’re the new Farmer aren’t you?”

Great, he’s chatty. Reshmi nodded, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

“I knew it, you’ve been the talk of the town for a few weeks now.” He held his hand out. “Name’s Morris, I’m the manager of the first ever JojaMart in the Valley.” She grabbed his sweaty palm and he shook her hand vigorously. “It’s always great to get more people moving here, helps with the economy as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Reshmi made a noncommittal hum in return. “Morris, I appreciate you helping me out, but I would like to be on my way.”

“Of course, I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you. Let’s see here,” Morris rattled off the price and Reshmi tapped her card to pay. While he grabbed a bag for the toaster, she noticed the cork-board behind him. It was filled with news clippings and photos of JojaCorp achievements. One was about the latest mining project they had undertaken, another of the company revenue figures. All boastful corporate language, which was all too familiar. But it was the headline about the Joja Expansion project that really caught Reshmi’s attention. She felt a heavy lurch in the pit of her stomach. Shit. That was her project. Sure enough, underneath was a photo of the whole team, she and Owen right in front. He had her hand around her waist, pulling her towards him, with the both of them grinning for the camera. A wave of nausea threaten to overwhelm her. It was all so fake. So freaking fake. She had to get out of here.

“Done, and I’ve dropped a couple of coupons in there too. As a welcome gift.” Morris winked, he actually winked at her. She had to go.

The coupons were thrown in the trash as soon as she left, with the toaster almost along with it. But that wouldn’t solve anything. Instead she rushed home in the rain, this time without bothering with the umbrella. Relishing the feeling of the raindrops on her skin, forcing her to feel something other than numb. Her resolve grew stronger with every step, and she knew she wouldn’t be stepping into JojaMart ever again. Instead she grabbed her last packet of parsnip seeds, and head out to till the soil. She had more work to do.

Want more Reshmi? You can read my Harvey x Farmer fic here!

[adaintywrenn]

Indie OC, sideblog to @/ssolessurvivor

Highly private/selective. Queue heavy/slow activity. Multi-verse, multi-ship, crossover friendly.

Penned by Saturn (she/her, 28+), minors do not enter.

banner credit: [xx]

Potential Triggers: hospital settings, control of food and water intake, consistently inflicting pain on another, objectification for money.

// headcanons // memes //

Affiliates: @incissam // @apurekindness //

A study in: finding one's identity and sense of self. Unwilling human experimentation. Modifying genetics and DNA with that of avian spawn. Growing up lonely, recorded, processed and put on display. Sleeping in confinement. Mental health amid ever evolving pain and sharp objects. Questioning what familial love should truly feel like, living in curious fear of strangers. Built for objectification.

Rules.

Biography:

Name: Wren (surname erased)

Age: 23

Likeness: Elle Fanning 

Immediate relations: a group of scientists ‘adopted’ her. Biological parents unknown (they surrendered her at birth) 

Occupation: it’s complicated. 

Sexuality: open to interpretation (so sheltered she doesn't have preconceived notions yet).

Defining features: 

A pair of genetically modified wings protrude from her shoulder blades. Several scars on her back around the wing joints from surgeries. 

Aesthetics: 

A bony body built to be light, so as not to cause more pain on the weight of the wings screwed into the bones of her back. Pale feathers speckled with tawny color. Born and raised in hospital gowns and poised behind giant cameras, always cataloging every little thing done to her. Caution. Blonde hair combed smooth each night before fitful sleep. Scattered feathers each morning flutter through the cage bars. Immense longing for that loving touch, no more syringes and sterile walls. The quiet observation of a trapped animal. 

Story: 

Her name may have never been Wren, it was given to her by the scientists who would come to say they love her. The infant came out of the womb with apparent birth defects, little stumps on her back. Unable to afford any type of inherent medical costs to take care of a broken child, the parents sold her to a group known only in hushed whispers. This organization takes those who aren’t wanted and turns them into something extraordinary by defiling the imperfections of human DNA. The stubs on the child’s back were dubbed wings, and they knew who she would become. 

Wren. 

The girl grew up in a highly controlled lab hidden away in a countryside she’d never know the name of. Stuck with syringes, the stubs shaped and molded as they liked, the child was implanted with a pair of little wings resembling those of a barn owl’s (where they obtained the specimen is redacted in all files). Steel screws and plates were placed to accommodate the weight, steroids are given in highly controlled doses to aid in healing and advance the growth of muscles. After that, she was placed in an incubation chamber for further analysis. 

Nobody told the child she was going to be the product of monstrous science experiments. 

As a toddler, she wandered around in grainy black and white videos holding the hand of the scientist she called ‘mom’. She appears to waddle and teeter over, trying to compensate for the new weight of the wings on her back. The bigger her own body gets, the bigger the wings grow in order to perhaps grant flight one day. Some of the scientists remark that she looks like something out of a sci-fi movie: something unnatural. 

The child grows both stronger and weaker each day, and more and more injections are provided to help her body gain stability within itself. Stimulants to help provide faster bone growth, shots to numb the pain she feels every hour with every shift of those monstrous wings. Such consequences are that the bones and muscles take over the plates and screws in her back to help alleviate the stress to the girl’s back, so she might not develop a hunch from the weight of the appendages. Her immune system takes hits when she’s recovering from all the extravagant growth inside her, and she’s locked in a sterile chamber with glass walls. The ceiling is fitted with a scanner to continually take her vitals, monitor her every breath, and load it into files. 

Puberty hits and she feels such pain she’s reduced to tears. It’s determined her wings aren’t strong enough, so steroids are injected directly into the arms beneath the feathers: days go by and they watch her wings grow seemingly overnight. What the scientists ignore is Wren crying herself to sleep alongside extreme molting per the avian DNA in her blood syncing with that of an adolescent human body’s changes. The muscles of her wing joints are becoming so big they have overgrown the steel mounts. Some screws break and float loosely in her back, dangerously close to her spine. Another surgery is required to remove them, that way nothing lodges in the bones there, causing irreparable damage after all they’ve already accomplished. 

Her 20th birthday comes around and they have finally finished their creation. Wren is fully fledged and able to stand and walk without struggle. The tips of her wings drag the floor if she lets them relax. She feels constant pain in her spine and back from the weight, but she grins and bears it. The scientists have since been engaged in their own plans for a year and the day is finally here. The eve of her birthday, she’s dressed nicely and groomed well, her feathers are smoothed out and conditioned to glisten, and she’s transported in a horse trailer to her ‘birthday party’. Ushered inside a big concrete building in the back entrances and whisked through dark halls, Wren doesn’t know where she is when they ultimately settle her in a curtained off space. She waits patiently, standing still, fiddling with her dress until she hears it: 

‘Ladies and gentleman, I can’t wait to introduce you to the modern marvel of experimental science. 20 years in the making and we are finally meeting the one, the only…Wren!’

The curtains open and she’s blinded by bright lights not unlike those at the lab. She hears a collective murmur that settles around her like the hum of bees, flashes of lights here or there spot her vision and she finally blinks back the confusion. Wings unfold in her natural tense response, but she can’t move. And she wonders, standing there alone in the spotlight…if her ‘parents’ ever truly loved her. 

Over the next three years of her life, Wren would be shuffled from one expensive sideshow to another: museum appearances, high society dinners, charity and fundraiser events. While she can mingle with the crowds of people, she often finds herself a simple spectacle. Something to be gawked at, photographed, filmed, and otherwise discarded. The pain radiates through her bones as the only friend she might ever have. 

There has never been a lonelier girl in the world. 

[justimajin]

check in tag!

tagged by: @ggukkieland (hello!! I was tagged in this probably centuries ago and never got to complete it :’) but thank you for checking in on me, I’m back now and doing great! 🥰)

1. Why did you choose this URL?

For a couple of very simple reasons: #1 - it had to do something with writing. #2 - it had to do something with Jin. #3 - if it wasn’t punny somehow, then what’s even the point? 😂

But yeah, hope my readers can just imajin while they’re reading my stories~

2. Any side blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them.

I do have a couple! 

@imaji-reads → this one is for my fanfic recommendations. I also have this page over here with some recs if anyone is looking for more reading material. 

@imaji-writes → this one is for any helpful writing advice I come across. As much as I love writing, I’m not an expert and always like to work towards improving, so keeping this blog around helps me alot! 

Aside for those two, I have a third blog I keep around for any funny/aesthetic posts I come across that aren’t BTS related. I’m part of a lot of fandoms, so I tend to fangirl on this blog a lot 🤭

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

February 2018! Although I didn’t start writing and officially posting until July-August.   

4. Do you have a queue tag?

I don’t have a specific queue tag for regular reblogs, but for my stories I’ll keep tags like ‘[insert story title] queued reblog’. This just helps to keep things organized and also allows me to check that I’ve reblogged my story a couple of times, because there’s moments where I can just forget 😅

5. Why did you start your blog?

I started my blog after being in the BTS fandom for a while and staying as a silent reader between 2016-2018. But in that time, I was so surprised with the different types of fanfics I came across and how good all of them were. This led me into thinking that it would be so much fun to create some of my own stories and share them as well. 

Lo and behold! I created justimajin in February of 2018. Although I created my blog at that time, I was going through some struggles (mainly medical issues) and was very close to deleting the blog in July-August. But I thought I would really regret not posting a single story so I tried my best and posted at least one of them (long story short, looks like I ended up staying after that 🤗)

6. Why did you choose your icon?

Because I wholeheartedly believe in purple hair Jin supremacy. 

7. Why did you choose your header?

The guys are laughing and smiling in it and it’s just so precious☺️ 

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

Probably my masterlist which is at roughly 1.4k. As for my stories now....I discovered the first part of A Lone Wolf’s Howl is at 1.2k notes?! 😳😳😳 Like how?!?

I guess werewolf! Jungkook really is a deal maker....

9. How many mutuals do you have?

I have a couple, but I not too sure of the exact number since they’re hidden and finding them is kind of tough. 

10. How many followers to you have?

Enough to start up a free hugs service. 

11. How many people do you follow?

Very few, but it’s a whole mix of different content creaters. 

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

Nope. 

13.  How often do you use Tumblr in a day?

I try to check in daily (key word: try) but sometimes I just get too busy and have to quickly catch-up. 

14. Did you fight/have an argument with another blog once? Who won?

Oh damn 😳 I don’t really make a thing to square-up with somebody but if an argument were to break out, it would be me telling them they’re amazing and them refusing to acknowledge the truth. 

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

Eh, I can see the point in them but people can make their own choices. 

16. Do you like tag games!

Of course! But I can be a potato sometimes and answer them super late 😔

17. Do you like ask games?

Yes, I do! 

18. Which one of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

Eh...famous is interesting word choice. Do I think they’re all incredible individuals and those that create are fantastic in what they do? 100% yes. Does famous kind of make them sound like celebrities when they’re really just people vibing/doing what they love....?

You get the point. 

19. Do I have a crush on a mutual?

@army-author - I absolutely adore her fics and they’re all so comforting <3 Written on our Veins and Gamomania are amongst my favourites and they’re listed on my fic recommendations for those that want to check them out! 

Also special shout-out to @ggukkiereads ​whose fic recommending skills are top tier and the blog is always a go to when I’m looking for something to read 🥰

20. Tags? - only if you want 😊

Oof, it’s been a while since I’ve been back here but if any my readers want to do it and tag me, I’d be glad to check them out!👀

[hesperleveret]

I have a new blog post about my writer’s scorecard and my dark night of the soul - or, why getting 200 rejections has been better for me than getting an agent.

You can read it here:

Or here:

In which I reflect on my personal writer’s scorecard and what lessons I have learned.

My writer’s scorecard:

Years since first publication: 2

Number of accepted/published stories: 6

Number of rejections received: 200

Years since signing with an agent: 10

My latest story, ‘Before the Unicorn Hunt’, has just appeared in the June 2023 edition of Luna Station Quarterly. As part of the publication process, I went into the LSQ webpage to update my biography and realised two things: 1) it’s exactly two years since my very first publication, ‘We Who Are Left On This Dying Earth’, appeared in the very same magazine. 2) my biography has changed significantly since then: I’ve published several more stories and had another baby boy.

Then I realised something else: it’s been ten whole years since I signed with my agent. Oh, and I’ve also reached the milestone of two hundred short story rejections. Now I know these numbers aren’t really correlated with each other in any way, but nonetheless, it all makes me reflect on my writerly scorecard.

So I’ve been a published author for two years. I’ve got five stories out in the world, and another one due out soon. So six stories sold versus two hundred rejections: judging by my experience as a slush reader for Apex Magazine, a 3% success rate is actually not bad. This is something you just don’t see as a regular reader: for every success, there are many failures. Nearly every writer whose best-selling, prize-winning work you’ve read has written many other works that have never seen the light of day. If there’s a trick to getting published, it’s a trick in the same way as that time Derren Brown tossed a coin ten times in a row and it came up heads every time. How did he do it? Simple. He just tossed that coin thousands of times until it eventually came up heads ten times in a row. Getting short stories published is much the same. (Hey, I said simple, not easy).

Although, for a while, I did think publishing was easy – or easy for me, at any rate, since I’d found the golden ticket. That other part of that scorecard I mentioned, about the agent? Yeah, that’s a whole other story. I met my agent in 2012 at an event for budding writers, and she was interested in representing me before I’d even finished writing my first novel, and well before I’d properly thought about going out on submission. I officially signed with her a year later, and naively thought I’d be seeing my books on the shelves of Waterstone’s shortly thereafter. Never mind all that tedious process of submissions and rejections and heartbreak, I’d jumped the queue, gone straight into the VIP room, and a publishing deal (and fame and fortune) would be along very soon.

Well, unfortunately it didn’t quite work out like that. I knew how traditional publishing was supposed to work. Step 1) Write a book. Step 2) Get an agent. Step 3) Get published. Step 4) Win the Booker Prize. Everything I’d ever heard about this process suggested that the difficult bit was Step 2) Get an agent. I hadn’t realised it was possible to stall in between Step 2 and Step 3, stuck in a limbo of got-an-agent-but-not-yet-published. It was a lonely and confusing place, this limbo. I didn’t know anyone in a similar situation, and I didn’t know how to manage my time, my writing, or my expectations. I spent all my time writing novels that I thought would be commercially viable, because that was what my agent wanted me to do, and then I sank into despair when those novels failed to sell.

Now, to do my agent justice, she believed in me, and she tried her best. She did put in a lot of work on my behalf, all of it eventually un-remunerated. I don’t blame her for how things turned out. With the benefit of hindsight, however, I think I would have been better off if I’d served a long apprenticeship at the start of my writing career, learning how to toil in the short fiction mines, cope with rejections, and find joy in small victories and in the process of writing itself.

Instead I had a protracted false start and a bonfire of broken dreams.

After three books in succession were rejected by publishers and a fourth was deemed dead on arrival, my agent decided we had reached the end of our road. She wasn’t wrong – clearly we weren’t working effectively together, and we probably should have parted company sooner. Still, it wasn’t easy to hear.

This was in early November 2020. You may recall it had been a difficult year up to that point, and the Americans were stressing everyone out with their disputed election.

I had a dark night of the soul.

I pulled myself out of that dark night with two resolutions: I would forget about novels for a while and concentrate instead on shorter-form fiction, and I would rediscover the joy of writing if it killed me.

I wrote a novella for NaNoWriMo, based on an idea I’d had knocking around for ages but which my ex-agent hadn’t thought was commercially viable. Fuck it, I thought, I’m going to write it anyway, just because I want to.

I then got seriously stuck into writing short stories. I’ll probably going to write a full blog post about the joys of the short story another time: for now, I’ll just say that I’ve enjoyed being able to explore a multiplicity of worlds. And, as we’ve already seen, all this writing eventually started to yield some results. Two hundred rejections, six acceptances. A 3% success rate, as I remind myself, is actually not bad. And I’m now, finally, a published writer. I have books on my shelf containing stories (and non-fiction) that I wrote. Nobody can take that away from me. It’s not exactly best-seller-dom, but it’s not nothing either.

I’ve now started writing a new novel, not based on any commercial considerations but just because it’s what I want to write. Progress is slow, because of life stuff (I think I mentioned the new baby boy, now a toddler/walking disaster zone) but that doesn’t matter. The important thing is that I’m enjoying what I write, and I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far. The scorecard doesn’t lie, but it’s not the full story either.