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covenofagatha · 1 day ago

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The hustle

You and Agatha make a bet while playing pool - if you win, you get to try to make her orgasm without being touched

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: GP Agatha, cumming untouched, dirty talk, masturbation, daddy kink

“Remind me why we came here?” Agatha asks as she opens the door to Herb’s Grille and Bar and lets you walk in. The smell of cheap beer and wings hits your nose and you wrinkle it. It’s a dimly lit establishment with sticky floors and loud televisions showing every single sports game happening at the moment.

You turn to face your girlfriend once she steps into the restaurant. “Where else would you have wanted to spend our date night?”

Every Saturday, you and her alternate between picking a place to go out. After two years of your relationship, it’s a way to keep things spiced up. Sometimes you’ll meet her in a hotel lobby and pretend to be strangers, other times you’ll go pottery painting. Your absolute favorite date was one she planned where she took you to a restaurant overlooking the ocean to watch the sunset, and then went skinny-dipping in the water once the beach cleared out.

You can still remember the way her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, the way she held you in her arms, her cock inside you, and just let the waves rock you back and forth slowly until you both came.

So it’s safe to say that picking a bar like this is very out of the norm for date night.

Agatha snorts. “If you waited until the last minute to plan something and this is the best you could come up with, we could’ve just had a movie night at home.”

“Oh, baby,” you say, laughing at the little faith she has in you. “This—” you gesture at the rowdy football fans throwing their arms up at the television, the waitresses in small shorts carrying plates of fries and onion rings, the drunk men throwing darts in the corner, “—was not last minute planned. I’ve been wanting to come here for a while.”

“Why on earth would you want to come here?” she asks, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow at you.

You shrug. “Why don’t we go to the bar and get a drink?” you suggest, completely ignoring her question with a coy smile. Her eyes narrow suspiciously, but she follows you as you begin to wade through the rows of packed tables. And then you stop and gasp, your hand flying to the side to hit Agatha’s arm. You point at the empty pool table in the back of the restaurant. “Do you want to play?”

“Honey, have you ever played pool before?” Agatha asks, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Sticking out your bottom lip in an overexaggerated pout, you beg with your eyes. “Will you teach me?”

She can’t say no to you, so she sighs. “Why don’t you get us our drinks and I’ll go rack up and get the cues.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to her cheek before rushing to the bar and ordering a rum and coke for Agatha, and a Dirty Shirley for you, before bringing them over to where your girlfriend is placing the pool balls in the triangle. You pick up one of the sticks that she picked out and stroke a hand up and down the smooth wood.

“Baby,” Agatha says through gritted teeth and you look over at her innocently. Her hands have gripped onto the edge of the table and her knuckles are white. “Don’t give me that look, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Trying to fight the smirk growing on your face and failing, you give up on the pretense before tilting your head to the table. “So do I go first?”

Agatha nods and you step up before bending over the table, stick in hand. You line up the tip with the cue ball and close an eye before Agatha interrupts you.

“Honey, hang on. You need to fix your stance,” she says and you stand back up and look at her.

“What?” you ask. “It feels fine to me.”

Your girlfriend tsks before stepping behind you and putting her hands on your waist. “Bend over,” she murmurs in your ear and goosebumps line the back of your neck. “Hold the cue how you just did.”

Swallowing roughly, you resume your position and gasp slightly when she presses against you and puts her hands on top of yours to adjust your technique. Your stomach starts to grow warm.

It seems like you’re not the only one affected though — you can feel Agatha’s cock half-hard in her pants. Always one to tease, you push back slightly and sway your hips and her grip tightens on yours as she sharply inhales.

“Like that?” you simper, immensely enjoying the way Agatha’s body has stiffened.

“Take the shot,” she orders gruffly and you chuckle before swinging your arms back and then forward, the 8-ball hitting the triangle and sending the balls scattering with a thunk.

A striped red one goes into the pocket and you line up to take another shot, but completely whiff. You see Agatha biting back a smile.

She sinks four balls during her turn and you miss completely. Two more for Agatha, and you do a little victory dance when you finally get one.

“I like it better when you go inside my hole,” you say right as she’s lining up to take her shot and she misses, the cue ball hitting the edge of the table. When she stands back up and turns to you, her face is slightly red and the knowledge that your dirty, juvenile joke has that much effect on her settles straight in your cunt.

But any triumph you had is gone when you miss again, and then she perfectly hits her last ball and the 8-ball in, almost completely sweeping.

“Can we play again?” you ask and Agatha gives you a strange look. Usually when you lose that badly in any other game, you immediately want to do something else. You’re a bit of a sore loser and Agatha loves to tease you for it. “Please? Let’s make a bet.”

She studies your face to see what you’re doing. “Okay,” she agrees slowly, still unsure of your ulterior motives. “If I win, we never go to another bar on date night.”

You hold out your hand. “Deal. And if I win, you have to go along with whatever I say tonight.”

Her lips part ever the slightest and her eyes darken. “Oh, okay, honey. If you win, you’re in charge.” It’s clear from her sarcastic tone that she doesn’t expect that to happen at all, but she shakes your hand anyway and you can’t help the thrill that runs through you.

Agatha re-racks the balls and motions for you to break them again. You lean over the table and hit the 8-ball hard. A solid ball goes into the pocket and you sink the next three shots you make.

When you finally miss, you look at Agatha, whose jaw has dropped wide open. You wink and she flushes before taking a shot.

She misses.

You cluck your tongue and purposely brush past her front on your way to get to the cue ball harder than you have to just to rub your ass against her cock before hitting the rest of the solid balls into the pockets. And then you get the 8-ball as well.

“How did you—” Agatha starts, completely flustered, trying to wrap her head around how you just did that.

Grinning, you tell her, “I used to play pool all the time in college.”

Realization dawns on her and she chuckles humorlessly while shaking her head. “So you hustled me.”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Eh, semantics. The point is, we made a bet. And I just won.”

“That you did, honey. What do you have in store for me tonight?” she asks, not seeming too upset about the loss. She knows that this is really her win as much as it is yours.

Your eyes gleam. “I want to make you cum,” you say, and before she can retort that you always do, you add on: “without you being touched.”

Agatha swallows and you can see the wheels in her head spinning as her breathing starts to quicken. “You little minx,” she growls and you can see her cock, now a little more than half-hard, bulging in her pants. You giggle gleefully.

It’s something that’s been on your mind for a while now. There was one night you had been teasing her while straddling her lap and she had been a squirming mess beneath you, and when you finally got your mouth around her, it took her about forty-five seconds before she came all over your face.

She had been so embarrassed, but you had found it so fucking hot, knowing that you could make her that worked up that she couldn’t even last a minute. And then you started wondering if you could get her so worked up that she could cum without anything.

The thought had driven you to orgasm quite a few times since that night. You weren’t sure if she would try it just if you asked, so you had to get a little creative.

And she had taken the bait, every step of the way. It wasn’t often you got to pull one over on your girlfriend like this, and you’re absolutely going to revel in it.

“Should we go home, daddy?” you ask, voice as sweet and pure as you can make it, and Agatha’s look is vicious. You know she’s going to make you pay for this little stunt, probably with a spanking and maybe orgasm denial, but it’s going to be so worth it.

Agatha takes a deep breath before downing the rest of her drink in one gulp and then grabs onto your bicep to lead you out of the bar.

Your hand creeps into her lap the moment she puts her car into reverse to back out of the parking spot and she hisses before slamming on the brakes.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” you say in awe. Her cock is completely straining against her jeans and you can feel the heat radiating through them. You flatten your palm and begin to rub and her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Someone’s more excited than they’re letting on,” you remark and enjoy the way the vein in her forehead throbs.

“It’s going to be your fault if I crash and kill us both,” she says through clenched teeth. “Thought the whole point was you weren’t going to touch me.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Good point.” You remove your hand and she lets out a sigh of relief so she can focus on driving — as much as she can, with how turned on she is — and you angle your right foot up on the seat so your knee rests on the car door and your skirt rides up. You drag your fingertips against your exposed thigh, heat following in its wake, and you can feel how wet you’ve become.

Agatha doesn’t notice at first when you slip a hand between your open legs to tease yourself over your underwear, but when she does happen to glance over, she lets out a small whimper.

“What are you doing?” she asks, trying to sound rough, but failing. It sounds like she’s in pain, and based on how hard she is, you think she might be.

You press on your clit and gasp. “I said I wasn’t going to touch you. I never said anything about touching myself.”

Her tongue traces its way across her mouth and she tries to focus on the road, but when you move your panties to the side and stroke through your folds, she can’t help but sneak little peeks down at your pussy.

“I can fucking hear you,” she breathes like she can’t even believe it, like the thought is driving her absolutely wild.

She turns down the radio and the squelching sounds of your wetness fills the car. You’re surprised she hasn’t swerved or hit something yet, with how often she looks over.

And then you push a finger inside yourself and you gasp, hips bucking, and she whimpers. You almost want to say fuck it and just bend over and suck her off, but you hold fast to your plan.

“Daddy, fuck,” you whine pathetically and the muscle in her cheek twitches. Her cock is so hard you can see the outline of her vein through her pants. She starts to slowly grind up so her cock rubs against the denim fabric and you wonder if she’s getting any satisfaction from it.

You slide another finger into your cunt easily, curling them knuckle-deep, and your head falls back against the headrest as your back arches.

“Baby, god, you are so hot,” Agatha gasps pathetically. You’re so fucking addicted to her desperation, the high it gives you is almost orgasmic, and you start to fuck yourself roughly. Your walls squeeze around your own fingers and you wish that her cock was inside you more than anything.

Your girlfriend is thinking the same thing, if the small noises spilling out of her mouth is any indication. The car speeds up erratically and it’s only five more minutes before she pulls into the driveway. The tension has been building in your stomach and you’re almost sad you didn’t get to make yourself cum.

There’s no telling how crazy that would’ve made Agatha.

“In the house, now,” she barks and you have to bite back a laugh. You’re the one who’s supposed to be in charge tonight, and here she is, ordering you around so you can get her off.

You let it slide because you’re just as eager for this as she is.

She speed-walks to the front door to unlock it and then you take the lead and drag her upstairs to your bedroom by the hand. She groans when she feels how wet your fingers are.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” you say, sparks of heat lighting up all throughout your body as she listens immediately.

When Agatha shoves her jeans and underwear down, her cock springs out and both of you gasp; her, from the semblance of relief she gets, and you, from how it looks.

Her cock looks like it’s straining against itself: it’s swollen and the veins are taunt, redder than it's ever been, and leaking a copious amount. She humps the air involuntarily and gutturally groans. The top of her breasts all the way up to her cheeks is stained pink and her chest heaves, the look in her eyes that of a feral woman.

“Fuck — you’re so…” You don’t even have the words to describe how turned on she is. You haven’t even teased her that much either. Not enough to warrant this state, anyway.

Agatha shakily lowers herself onto the bed and leans back against the pillows so she can look at you, her cock pointing straight up to the ceiling. “You get daddy so worked up, baby,” she rasps and you clench around nothing at the desire in her voice. There is no doubt in your mind that you’ll be able to get her to cum untouched. The only question is how long it will take.

You toy with the hem of your shirt, sensually dragging it up your stomach and then back down until Agatha’s teeth are clenched so tightly you think she might snap.

“Take it off,” she grits, an urgency in her voice that you haven’t heard before. You smirk and peel it off and Agatha’s hips jump when she takes in your purple bra that pushes your breasts together. “Fuck,” she says under her breath and another dollop of liquid drips down her cock from the tip.

Sliding off your skirt, your head spins when she makes a muffled groan that sounds like she’s been injured. You have never felt hotter in your life than when you’re with Agatha. And then you take off your underwear and hold them up to the light so she can see how drenched they are.

The muscles in her stomach flex and her fingers dig into the duvet. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbles, sounding distant.

Now fully naked, you climb on the bed and lie opposite from her, propping yourself up with one hand and spreading your legs so that she can see your glistening center. Agatha makes another sound and you watch her cock bob up and down on its own.

You suck two fingers into your mouth, the same fingers that were inside you on the car ride, and give her the same look you do as when her cock is in your mouth.

Her lips part and her tongue darts out, her breathing becoming shallower. You pull your fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop and trail them down your face and neck, across your collarbone, and down to pinch your nipples.

Agatha recognizes it as the same path she usually takes with her tongue when she’s working her way down your body and her hips start to grind slowly. Her cock leaks even more as you watch her throb and it makes even more heat blast through you.

“Fuck, daddy, you make me feel so good,” you say and her breath catches in her throat. Your hand skims across your stomach and then teases your folds and you moan, which makes Agatha moan, too. “I love it when you go down on me and you let me ride your face. I love it when you fill me with your cock—” You slide two fingers inside and cut yourself off with a gasp.

Your girlfriend’s hands are twitching like she can’t decide whether she wants to touch you or her cock, which has somehow gotten even harder. She is steadily rolling her hips now, desperate for any stimulation.

“Honey — honey, please,” she begs, her voice thick and deep and it does almost as much to you as curling your fingers and pressing against your g-spot does. You’re not going to last long either. “Daddy needs you, please.”

You almost give in. It would be so easy to take her cock down your throat or to straddle her and feel her in your pussy — either way, you think she would cum immediately.

But she looks so pretty like this, cheeks flushed and sweaty, furiously grinding against absolutely nothing, her cock pulsing and dripping. “Sorry, daddy,” you say with a wink and you watch her head drop back against the headboard. “I love seeing you like this. So desperate for me, about to cum without being touched at all, just for me.”

Agatha swears, her body stiffening and you think she’s going to cum right now, but to her credit, she relaxes a little and doesn’t. You’re almost impressed. “Daddy is going to punish you for this, you know,” she says with very little conviction. “Gonna tie you up and leave a vibrator in you and we’ll see how many times you cum before you physically can’t take anymore.”

Your breath hitches and your palm bumps against your clit roughly. The tension from the car is building back in your lower stomach, pleasure coursing through your veins. It’s not as good as when Agatha touches you, but it’s a close second.

“Fuck, fuck,” Agatha babbles like she can’t take it anymore. “I need you so bad, honey. I’m fucking — I’m fucking aching for you.” You almost make a joke about how you can tell, but think better of it. “You drive me crazy, please, I need you, need to feel your hot pussy wrapped around my cock, fuck—“

Her knees lock and her feet flex and her cock pulses and your fingers still inside you to watch in awe. Agatha’s breathing gets tighter before she sucks in deeply — her hips lurch up and her legs start to spread out and up — she lets out a loud, high-pitched keen and her cock erupts, cum spurting up in the air and landing on her stomach.

Agatha’s hands scramble for purchase on the duvet as she frantically humps the air and keeps gasping, her cock pumping out a few more cascades of cum all over her.

You didn’t think that would be so hot and you press the palm of your hand against your clit and you spasm, an orgasm tearing through your own body. You ride it out, beginning to move your fingers again to prolong the pleasure.

She lays there limply, just watching with glazed eyes and an open mouth, her cock twitching every so often as it softens.

When you finally come down, you can’t help but laugh and Agatha looks at you like you’re crazy. She still hasn’t moved.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” you exclaim and Agatha snorts before finally rubbing her face with a hand.

“I think you just killed me, sweetheart,” she says matter-of-factly and you smirk despite yourself.

She looks absolutely wiped. “So you don’t want to do it again?” you ask and the look she gives you is lethal. But you see a hint of heat in her eyes, and you know that this won’t be the last time you get to make her cum like that.

Agatha goes to move but looks down at the mess on her stomach. “Why don’t you come clean this up for me, honey?” she suggests and another blast of heat runs through you.

You get on your knees and crawl the foot or so to her before swiping your fingers through the puddle of cum and enveloping them in your mouth and moaning at her taste. She watches you with dark eyes as you then bend down and run your tongue over her belly, her muscles tensing and her cock stirring.

“Good girl,” she murmurs and the praise goes straight to your still-wet cunt. She tugs on your hair and pulls you up to kiss you, stroking her tongue inside your mouth to taste herself.

When you finally pull back to breathe, you smile despite yourself at how perfect and completely ruined she looks right now. “Not a bad date night, hm?” you ask, giggling and raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Agatha rolls her eyes playfully. “Not quite what I had in mind, but I do like where it ended up.”

You flop onto the bed next to her and she puts an arm around you so you can tuck yourself into her side. “Good luck topping that next week,” you challenge, eyes flicking up to meet hers. She smirks and reaches over to pinch your nipple.

“I’m sure I’ll find a way.”

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#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfic

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orchidseason · 2 days ago

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where'd you put those keys? we can share one seat.

ellie w x f!reader

you and ellie fucking in all the postions listed in sports car by tate mcrae

warnings 𐙚 FILTHY SMUT/SEX, word count 2.9k, exhibition (car, alleyway, center of a room, beach), watched masturbation, penetration/oral sex (r!receiving), strap called dick, riding/doggy/missionary, overstimulation/high sex drive, making out, grinding, modern!au, established relationship, not proofread

In the alley in the back

Her body was pressed against yours–leaving you stuck between her and the concrete wall in front of you. Her hand was wrapped around your neck, the other–the tattooed one–was on your waist–tugging your hips back to collide with hers, trusting her length back inside you. Each one shoving against that spot that had you fumbling to keep yourself upright, knees growing weak.

All the sound around you–the club, the chatter–and she was focused on the ones coming from you.

“Mmm… mm Ellie.. Els…! Ellie…”

There was a slight nudge at her heart, the concern of getting caught–and the repremends that may follow. It was present, but it had the opposite. Rather than fear, you both felt adrenaline, a surge of heat. She didn’t even try to quiet you, didn’t try to slow her hips when the sounds of your wet cunt got louder.

She was quiet herself, enthralled with how you looked. Your back arched, face pushed against the wall, bottom lip dropped open, fingers digging at the wall, legs shaking–spread so wide for her. Just for her. Only for her. She almost wanted someone to find you two, to see how well she took care of you–her hips moving quicker at the thought. Her voice, rough and scratchy, brushed against your ear–whispering praises, describing how you looked.

“You take me so well,” she murmurs, kissing at your shoulder. “So well, baby.”

Her hand at your waist snakes down to your clit, stimulating it right along with her thrusts–elevating how you were feeling. Your hums before have turned into gasps, choked moans. Her steady pace and finger working at your clit had you squeezing around her length, feeling as hot as ever. Your head falls back onto her shoulder, back arched as much as possible.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck…! Ellie–!” you whine and she shushes you.

“I know, I’m here. I’m here.”

Your body shook with tremors as the climax washed over you, Ellie’s heavy breathing hitting your ear–her thrusting coming to a stop.

In the center of this room

It’s so extremely unprofessional, immature, and unrefined to fuck in the center of a room. But here you were at some dinner, in the center of a nice restaurant–and Ellie’s hand was between your legs underneath the table. Your hands gripped her wrist, your chest rising and falling faster than normal.

She had slipped her hand onto your thigh by the start of the night. Not even halfway through the dinner and it was between your thighs, middle and ring finger rubbing at your core. You were squirming around in the chair, struggling to keep your thighs spread as she worked you up. When nobody was looking, she would whisper in your ear hotly–dirty phrases that brought out subtle changes in you. The way you’d clench around nothing, gasp, grip her wrist in a bruising hold.

There were people beside the two of you, but with the table cloth and angle she had her hand–it was covered completely. Just her two fingers moved, rubbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves. Her voice reached your ear, her lips brushing as she spoke, “quiet, the others may hear.” She said it at the right time, knowing you were reaching your orgasm.

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes almost rolling back at the euphoric feeling washing over you. Your body fell limp, head resting in the crook of her neck as the tingling sensation fills you. You walked out of that dinner with your inner thighs glistening with arousal under your dress.

We could share one seat.. with the windows rolled down

Pulled over on the side of the road, she had you on her lap–her lips rendering you dizzy. It was dark, the headlights on the car turned off. It started with a night drive, and halfway through she had to find some secluded area in the forest to park her car. Her hands were on your waist, moving your hips in circles down on her.

You were growing more and more aroused from the way she kissed you. Aggressive, passionate–pushing you to grip onto her hair, tugging her back again and again. Lips meeting one another in pure need, not letting the other breathe. She moved her hands away from your waist to unhook her pants, pulling them and her boxers down–just to pull her strap out. She did everything while kissing at your neck, pulling whimpers from you.

When she was sure you were ready, pressing her fingers into you a few times, she angled her length with your cunt and pulled you down onto her.

You gasped and slapped a hand against the fogged window. The activities inside the car were way too hot–contrasting the coolness in the air outside. Each inch was put in until it rested right against your cervix, splitting you on her length–fully taking the air out of your lungs.

She fucked you sensless. She moved you up and down, bounced you on her length. She kissed you breathlessly. Her hands were on the back of your neck, keeping you still for her so she could nip at your bottom lip. She had you practically screaming, moans so loud it had her soaking her own boxers and probably the car seat beneath her.

You shudder, hands gripping the headrest, “o-oh shit… mmm… ellie, don’t stop. Don't ever stop. Don’t fucking stop–oh!”

Her expression was one of pleasure and ego, a smirk laced in her grin. She kept you on her length, continuing her pace no matter if you’ve come already. Unbeknownst to you, the windows were rolled down–your pleas and cries of her name filling the surrounding area. It wasn’t one, not two, not three–but four rounds until she rolled them back up and held your exhausted and sore body against hers.

On the corner of my bed

Your hands were gripping the sheets beside your head, head tilted back–shifting back and forth. Ellie had your thighs in a vice grip, arms wrapped around them. She held you still, not allowing you to move an inch. Her muscles flexed each time your hips or legs jerked, eyes snapping up to you.

Her tongue was lapping at you–pushing inside you. She had you whimpering, crying her name out. All you saw was the blurry ceiling or pure black when you shut your eyes. Each lick, hum, press of her tongue was intentional.

“You love it like this don’t you,” she says against your wet core, pressing a kiss to your clit to watch you shiver. “Always go crazy for my tongue.”

You nod, too fucked out to even try to respond coherently. She’s been teasing you, keeping you on the brink of pleasure. Worked up that each stimulation felt like heaven, but she kept you at a hairs length from an orgasm. It felt amazing, and you truly wished you could stay here forever. She knew your body was like a backroad, working you up so fast. She knew exactly what setting, what words, and what actions had you weak in the knees for her. There’s no question why each session usually had three to four sessions following.

The reason why this was her own personal favorite was how she got to truly feel each reaction from you. Every clench around her tongue, how wet you got, your taste, your hips circling on her tongue–it was incredibly arousing.

Just now–when she felt you clench around her tongue–she didn’t stop. She moves it up your folds until she presses it against your clit, humming against it. Your jaw tightening, hands gripping the sheets so much they’re bunched up in your hands, eyebrows furrowed. Each second in overstimulation had you so weak, yet you begged for more.

Oh, and maybe on the beach

The bikini you had on, you should’ve known it would’ve set her off. It had a similar reaction in you as well, heat swirling in your lower abdomen at how her gaze darkened in intent. That night on the beach, under the moonlight–she had you straddling her face. The only thing that hid the two of you was a large rock.

Her body was laid on the said, legs bent–while you sat atop of her face. She left the bottoms on for a bit, teasing you over the fabric. She laughed at your pitiful whimpers, pleading for her to stop teasing.

“Don’t tease…. please–”

She only rolls her eyes, pulling your bottoms to the side and licks your cunt directly. The difference between with and without the fabric felt incredible. Her kisses, sucks, and licks on your clit now were much more defined, clear–it felt so good. You dug your fingers into the sand, hips jerking at how she was making you feel.

“Ellie–!”

“Shhh, I got you,” she whispers, continuing her ministrations against you. Your fluids were leaking onto her face–down her nose, over her lips. She’d have it as lip gloss if she could.

“Aah.. ahh please. Please keep going, don’t stop… feels so fucking good–”

As if she’d ever want to stop.

You could do it on your own while you're looking at me

She sat on a chair across from where you were on the bed. The intensity in her eyes was intoxicating, a hidden depth that seemed to see straight through you. You match her gaze, pulling your shirt up and over your head. She says nothing, eyes darting all around you. Your eyes, your breasts held in your bra, your stomach, your neck–

You grin. With a turn, you push your hips out towards her–giving her a glimpse of what was under your pencil skirt. Your cunt showing through the white lace underwear you were wearing. That was all was needed for her to start rubbing her thighs together–already hot and bothered.

Dropping the skirt to the ground, you climbed onto her lap–eyes never leaving hers as you drag her hands up your body, guiding them sensually. You couldn’t hold back the shiver that escapes you at the look in her eyes, how her pupils are blown in desire.

Next second you’re pulling away–standing in front of her to strip off the last bit of your undergarments. Scooting back on the bed, now completely bare, you maintain eye contact. The moment you spread your legs, her eyes dart there. With a hand reaching down between your thighs, you bring your finger onto your clit–circling it.

Your head falls back as you use your own fingers to work yourself up. You play with your clit, push a few into yourself–gasping at the feeling. While you’re laid out on the bed, legs spread and playing with yourself–she’s matching your pace, touching herself to the sight of you. The show you give her makes her feel like she’s doing it for the first time, like she’s a fresh teenager experiencing arousal.

Watching you feels like standing too close to an open flame, the heat of your presence drawing her in, making it impossible to look away. You’re like a drug to her—something she craves even when she knows she should pull back, something that fills her veins with a dangerous kind of need.

Her eyes track your every movement, hungry for more, the warmth spreading through her like wildfire. Each shift, each subtle gesture, stokes the fire inside her, intensifying the pull she can’t resist. She feels it deep in her chest—this heat, this craving, this connection that’s more than just desire. It’s all-consuming.

When you come undone in front of her, she’s climbing on top of you–continuing to wreck you until the alarm you set on your phone to wake up for work rings.

taglist // @kaykeryyy

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king4aday · 3 days ago

Text

A Postcard Story:

So for Dean's 46th this year, he decides to drag his husband around the states in Baby, ordering radio silence from his family to enjoy the open road, wherever the road takes them.

Here's a thread of postcards he sends Sam along the roadtrip:

Seattle was a nice place to start, people are kind and there's a lot of good food he's never tried. Dean was just glad that Cas could fly Baby with them to get there. Don't get him wrong, angel flight sucks too, for his stomach in particular, but it's nowhere near as bad as a plane.

When they drove into Cali, he was glad they managed to see the bridge in all it's glory. Real movie moment for him. They relaxed in Santa Cruz for a while, enjoying the views along the Pacific coast highway. He brought the Hawaiian shirts they bought when they all went to Gran Canaria a few summers ago as a family, getting nice tans before moving on.

Cas didn't let him rest for long when they got to L.A, asking Dean to hear him out before getting mad as he dragged him out. All frustration disappeared when they arrived at the studio though, Dean nerded out about the themed restaurants and rides while there was a mustard stain on his chin from chili dog he devoured. Cas was just happy to eat a burger and see Dean smile.

Tombstone flipped the tables for them. Now Cas loves his husband's passion, it's one of the most endearing qualities, he'd never let anyone dim the brightness he has talking about cowboys and westerns. But it can be a lot sometimes. He was committed to buying them both a full cowboy outfit before they left. Plus a hat for Jack, a buckle for Sam, new cowboy boots for Eileen and souvenirs he could hand out to the family.

Despite it being hot as balls, Dean loved being in Texas again. They ate some good authentic barbeque and went to a few museums Cas was interested in. Dean liked hearing him talk about the old buildings, the history and changes the landscape went through and Cas liked seeing Dean take selfies in front of the world's tallest cowboy boots, having to stop him promptly from climbing it and potentially breaking his back from a fall.

They took it slow in New Orleans, strolling down the french quarter like they were a couple courting in some Edwardian romance. It was warm but not oppressive, content to walk aimlessly, hand in hand, while the sounds of buskers playing strings echoed around the alleys. They danced under a street lamp, and kissed sweetly when the moon rose, all he could think about was how he felt safe in Cas' arms.

Dean loved it in Downtown, he felt right at home, locals welcoming him and Cas with open arms. They passed him free drinks when they saw their rings, pushed him on stage to sing some tipsy version of 'Should've been a cowboy'. Cas seemed to find it funny. He wouldn't say why.

He'd forgotten what a real Philly cheese steak was supposed to taste like but fuck him, he can't ever go back. One of the owners happily gave him the recipe, challenging him in recreating the sandwich he ordered. He's not got it perfect yet, but he's determined. At least Cas is a bottomless pit who can eat all the failed attempts he makes, zero waste fun!

New York was strange. He kept thinking about all the eccentrics and wide eyed kids who probably had dreams he'd never even considered before. At least when he looks at Cas now, he doesn't think he's done badly, hell maybe he's living a dream these New Yorkers wish they had too. He can't imagine what it's like to hedge all your scraped money and efforts on a chance of making it big as any kind of artist. He's pretty sure he already hit the jackpot with his life.

Teaching Cas to fish in Maine was a tumultuous task to put it nicely. Cas is already bitchy enough and Dean knows he can give as good as he gets, but they agreed never to go on a tiny boat alone together if one of them doesn't want to be drowned. Not to say they didn't have a good time though. They enjoyed the quiet of the calm waters and the breeze on their skin. Cas' first successful catch of the visit put them at ease, hell they were gonna drink a bottle of whiskey to celebrate, he got a pretty big one after all.

Cas was really making use of that sketchpad. He bought it for his husband a couple hundred miles back, noticing him sketching absent mindedly whenever there was a moment of reprieve. Dean hasn't seen everything inside, but he's seriously amazed at Cas' talent. Who knew right? It's a good way to store the memories, something more personal than the dorky couple selfies they took together in front of the falls. He'll look through them fondly later, remembering the time he took to enjoy his life, and enjoy Cas. Both things he's taken for granted before. He's learned his lesson now.

“It was awesome, seriously, and the water was so clear too, y'know? I asked Cas about Paradise falls on the way home” “The one in Venezuela?” Sam surmises, nursing his beer with a small smile. “Yeah! Well he said that he'd been a couple times centuries ago and it felt pretty magical then, and then I said ‘Did you know they're called Angel Falls too?’ and he gave me that look–” “I did not give you that look.” Cas frowns. “You totally did, Sam, you know the one.” “I did not give any looks, I just said that I was aware, and that was that.” Sam watches them both roll their eyes fondly at each other, hands definitely held together under the map table. “Whatever, my point is, we should totally go there together! I mean with the Angel flight express we could camp somewhere pretty close to the falls themselves.” “Like in 'Up' ? I'm in!” Jack says with a bright smile. Dean high fives him and Cas just sighs in exasperation. Eileen watches them all fondly, chin resting on her hand, likely feeling the same longing ache Sam does easing as she watches them all in the same space again. Sam missed this. He was really happy that Dean wanted to take time away for himself, for Cas too. They deserved to disappear from the world and live some of the life they both missed out on. But damn did he miss his family's regular bullshit, nothing makes him happier. “You know what, that sounds like a great idea.” Dean looks back at him with surprise, but it quickly shifts into that signature grin. “That's what I wanna hear! I knew I could count on you Sammy.” “How about we feed you before you go taking us to the other end of the world? Can't plan for reckless journeys on empty stomachs.” Ellen segways smartly. Dean claps his hands and points at her in agreement and they all start to get up to move. Sam sits and watches for a few seconds, just to be grateful for what he has. “Sammy, you good man?” Dean asks, looking back over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah I'm good. Oh hey, Dean?” Dean raises his eyebrows in question. “Happy birthday.” Dean rolls his eyes, but smiles at him, and they walk together towards the kitchen.

💙💚

#I really hope this isn't an eyesore #I never know how to format posts on tumblr #Happy birthday Dean Winchester #spn #spn fanart #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn graphic

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pinkiebieberpie · 10 hours ago

Note

YESSS THE PEOPLE WANT FARMER BUCKY !!!!

OH MY MY MY ઇઉ

(singledad!farmer!bucky x f!reader)

i'm happy to give the people what they want <33 i'm not much of a writer and it's more of a longer blurb/a few scenerios put in one longer post, but if you want to you can check my fic masterlist // inspired by this moodboard, enjoy!! reblogs and feedback is appreciated <33 (and yes the title is taylor swift coded, if you know you know.) ++ @bstorn wanted to be tagged.

words: 1.5k

warnings: death (mentioned), age gap (reader is in her mid 20s, bucky is in his early 40s), mention of drinking, mention of hair pulling, smut, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, outside sex (fuck being quiet, they are sleeping), unprotected sex, cockwarming and creampie (but also not really??? but it is here???)

life is messy. y/n's was actually very messy that's why she decided to move, leave her old life behind and change everything. how did she end up in a small town in the middle of texas? nobody knows, but she was there alone.

the first month was the hardest, she found a new job in a bakery, made a friend - her coworker, jessie but there was not really much to do, calm town, everyone knew each other, basically no privacy. after that first month y/n met bucky, a single father of two, a farmer and big enthusiast of chocolate cookies they were selling at the bakery. was he flirty? maybe. was he friendly? 100%.

it all started innocent.

"hi, i'm bucky, you new in town?"

"how do you like it here?"

"if you need any help feel free to reach out."

and y/n in fact did reach out, cause she needed help when her apartmet flooded. it was out of the blue the next day when bucky came to the bakery, but he was more than happy to help. that day y/n and bucky get to know each other a little bit more. she found out he has two daughters, annie (4 years old) and bea (6 years old), he owns one of the biggest farms in town and it's in his family since... forever, really. she was sure he is married, he was wearing a wedding ring, but that was just a habit - his wife died two years ago in an accident. the conversation was smooth, it was clear that the chemistry was there, but nobody made a move.

"all should be fine now." was what bucky said when he finished fixing y/n's plumbing problem. was she starring at him a bit when he was fixing her sink? yes.

"thank you, really, i had no idea what to do and i don't know that many people here... so i kind of had to ask my friendly neighbourhood customer for help." she chuckled and licked her lip a little bit.

"oh, it's nothing, actually i have a favor to ask, myself... it's okay if you feel like this is too much, but i have to help my friend out of town on the weekend, he has some problems with his animals and i can't leave girls alone, could you babysit? i can pay!"

"what? babysit? i- i never did that, but if your daughters are even half as kind as you, i bet they are angels, so yeah, i can do that, i'm not working over the weekend, you don't have to worry. and you don't have to pay me, it's favor for a favor."

was it a bit weird and a bit fast? for some people maybe, but both of them really felt like they could've trust each other. and that's how y/n became a babysitter for annie and bea. the girls were little angels, that was true. it became a thing that y/n was coming over to play with them and watch them, when bucky was working or when he was busy with whatever he needed to do. girls adored her. she baked cookies with them, they played outside together, she loved reading books with annie and bea and they loved to listen to them.

one night bucky came home really late, the girls were sleeping and y/n fell asleep on the couch too. closing the door woke her up and looked at bucky all sleepy.

"huh? you are home? i better pack my thin-"

"are you crazy? it's 3am, you are staying here, i will drive you home in the morning." he said it with a tone that left no place for arguing. she was a bit turned on by his voice, but no way she would ever tell bucky that. they were friends. only friends, with a weird chemistry, but still friends... but are you really friends when it's 3am and you are sitting on a couch with a man so much older, talking about life, drinking and being really and i mean really comfortable with each other?

that night went peaceful and quietly, in the morning bucky made breakfast for all three of the girls and when his kids were ready all four of them left his farm. first bucky and y/n dropped annie and bea at their preschool and then they made their way to y/n's house.

"you know, they adore you." bucky said while he way driving. y/n felt her cheeks getting a bit more pinkish. and she had no idea why, it was a compliment from his daughters, kind of, not from him. but at this point she knew she was falling for this man and there was nothing she could do about it.

✧✧✧

a few months passed and everything was going great for both bucky and y/n. they were meeting almost every weekend and more than one time during the work week. one day bucky invided her to a picnic at his farm, but... it was only two of them. the girls visited their grandma, and the truth was bucky wanted to spend some time alone with his... friend? his who? that was maybe a little bit more complicated than he wanted it to be. farmer was thinking about her all the time and he was ready to make things official. he wasn't in a relationship since his wife passed and that was over two years ago! he deserved to be happy.

when bucky asked y/n to be his girlfriend she was speachless, cause of course she wanted it, she wanted it bad. she wanted him bad, to be honest. soon she found out bucky wasn't always that sweet and caring man everyone thought he was. he was a very typical girl dad, he was making breakfast for his kids every morning, doing their hair, but he was also that type of man to pull your hair very hard when you were alone. and y/n loved it. every second of it.

their relationship was perfect, y/n loved waking up next to him almost every morning, she moved in really quickly. it wasn't even strange for the girl, they accepted it, after all annie and bea loved having y/n around.

one night y/n and bucky put the girls to bed earlier, because they planned a dinner. bucky cooked and prepared everything and all y/n had to do was to just look pretty when everything was ready.

"god, angel, you look stunning." was what bucky said when he saw y/n in her short, black dress. they ate their dinner, had some red wine and since it was warm summer they left home to sit outside. the moon looked marvelous and y/n looked even more beautiful in it's light.

it didn't took much for bucky to start kissing her. first her lips, then her neck, her exposed cleavage. y/n started breathing faster and then he dropped on his knees and rolled her dress up. first he was kissing y/n's thighs, then his lips were on her already wet panties. her noises were getting louder, then bucky took off her underwear. his lips were soft at first, teasing her, but when she buckled up her hips to him that was a sign he had no idea he was waiting for. bucky's tounge was making her more and more wet and she was only getting louder. her hands ended up in his long hair, pulling them hard when he added fingers to his ministrations.

"c'mon sweetie, you are making really cute noises, but you can be louder than that... girls are sleeping inside you can be as loud as you can." he hummed, his lips still so close to your aching pussy. it was hard being quiet with this man, he was making y/n feel like she was floating with his fingers and tounge alone. after her first orgasm they moved to their bedroom. they ended up naked a second after the door closed behind them. lips and hands were everywhere. their bodies so close, lots of moans and gasps. it was a perfect mix between soft love making and rough fucking and it made y/n lost her mind. at some point bucky covered her mouth.

"shh... we are not outside anymore, girls are sleeping next door, you have to be quiet now, doll." he whispered into her ear as he bit it. he was moving inside her with a steady rythm. her hands were on his back, nails in his skin leaving marks, it wasn't long before y/n finished again. when bucky wanted to move she wrapped her legs around him.

"no, please, i want to feel you..." she purred in the croock of his neck. he hapilly obliged. and that's how they both fell asleep. bodies tangled together, their breaths steady and calm and the whole life ahead of them. maybe with more than just two kids in the future...

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typicalopposite · 2 days ago

Text

tongue tied

thank you @nine-one-wanton for the title 😂🫶

BuckTommy | E (eh.. maybe M+) | 4859 words

also on ao3!

Mortification…

That still isn’t a strong enough emotion to describe what Buck is feeling at the moment.

He glances down at Tommy and asks if he’s still okay. All Tommy can do is blink in response; once for yes, twice for no. Pretty much any movement causes them both pain… and the humiliation is bad enough without them being overly sore as well.

Tommy slides a gentle hand over Bucks thigh, doing his best to smile up at him. He inhales deeply through his nose and blows it back out, adjusting how he’s sitting on his legs, having to keep himself up high enough so he doesn't accidentally tug on the rings— tangled together and seemingly inseparable.

There’s a knock at the loft’s door, and Buck hears Bobby’s voice yell out to him. He looks down at Tommy and sighs.

This was definitely not how the team was supposed to learn they made up.

****

(Two months earlier)

Tommy sat in a small chair, waiting his turn at the tattoo and piercing parlor. It had been years since Tommy had worn his little hoop earrings in his ears. Yet when he pushed the curved bar through the hole— thinking maybe they would be closed up and he’d have to force them— they just slipped right in.

He considered getting a second hole, maybe. A nose ring. A belly button ring…

Was he being dramatic— I want to feel something beyond the heartache I have caused for myself… so I’m going to go have a needle jabbed through some part of my body— maybe… He would agree, too, that maybe it was a little juvenile… a little petty even, to ultimately settle on a piercing Ev- no… Buck had shown so much interest in. He’d talked about having blowjobs from girls with tongue rings in his “Buck 1.0 days” (whatever that means); he said they were amazing.

So now Tommy would have one, too… and he could give whoever the next guy he hooked up with amazing blow jobs. Take that memory of Buck that just wouldn’t leave! (in reality he knew he was fooling himself… He doubted there would ever be a next guy for him… Buck, however, would probably be getting plenty of better head from people way better than Tommy— whose knees don’t creak and ache after just a few short minutes on them, and who’s jaw hadn’t been shattered and wired shut in his teens so he can only hold it open for so long before it locks up.)

He huffed angrily at the thought of someone else with Buck’s— with Evan's dick sitting heavy on their tongue; thrusting in and out, hitting the back of their throat. Someone else swallowing down every drop of his—

“Sir…” the receptionist said, thankfully interrupting his train of thought before he snapped his phone in half. “You’re up.” Tommy cleared his throat and thanked her, rubbing a hand over the heat climbing up his neck from embarrassment.

He plopped down on the client chair and told the piercer what he wanted. He opted for the clear bar, and he had taken a (much needed) week off work; hopefully it would be healed by then. The woman gave him the instructions: sit up straight, stick out your tongue, please don’t try to grab my wrist. “People do that?” Tommy asked, around the clamp on his tongue, and she gave him an exhausted look. Sorry… he thought but didn’t say.

He stuck his tongue out at himself in the bathroom mirror that night. It was swollen and very sore— it definitely didn’t make him feel better, but hey he’d always wanted to do something drastic. A tongue ring at forty counted… right? Yeah, it counted. He cleaned the piercing and went to bed.

****

(One month earlier)

Buck wasn’t sure if this was just some Buck 1.0.2 phase or a very emotional based impulsive (probably stupid) decision resulting from his still broken heart.

Still he was already there and had already put a deposit down; he might as well, right?

He had come to the parlor alone, because… well, what would anyone he knows say about him doing something like this. Maybe if it was something simple like an ear piercing… or hell, even a tongue piercing. But this— this was not something his pseudo siblings or father figure would be on board tagging along to. Eddie was in El Paso… and he definitely wasn’t about to ask Maddie along.

The receptionist smiled at him, had him sign in, and told him to take a seat.

He was early… Perhaps that had been a bad idea. His knee began to bounce and he fiddled with his fingers anxiously, staring around the parlor at the other clients ahead of him. Some laid back in the chairs getting tattooed— he should have just gotten another tattoo; what was he thinking— others getting any and every part of their body pierced. Most people were quiet. One lady in the back let out a scream so blood curdling Buck was about to get up and leave but—

“Sir! You're up!”

Buck followed the piercer into one of the private rooms. The man was quiet and looked like he might bite Buck’s head off if given the chance. He instructed Buck to lower his pants, his boxers, and sit down on the pad covered seat. He did as he was told, and the seat was tilted back, putting him on full display thanks to the cold room. Why was he even doing this? Just because Tommy had said some guy he talked to before they even knew each other said he might get one? Was Buck really that shallow— that jealous?!

“Alright, man… here we go.”

This was a bad idea.

This was a bad idea..

WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING!?!

This was so stupid! So bad! Such an impulsive idea!

“And done!”

Buck blinked once… twice… and looked down towards where the man was already slipping his gloves off. He pulled his dick up towards his stomach so he could see the little silver hoop hooked through his frenulum. “Oh,” he said, thanked the guy, paid and went home.

****

(Two days earlier)

Tommy played with the flat top of his tongue ring; he slid it back and forth over his teeth, he pushed the bar out enough to bite down on, all while he tapped on his steering wheel to the beat of a song playing on the radio. He was nervous.

And the thing was… he shouldn’t be.

He was a big brave grown man— capable of doing big brave grown man things… like to have drinks with an ex, whom he’s very much not over. He would be fine.

Except the only spot available was directly beside the Jeep.

“Fucking mother fucker.” Tommy grumbled out loud and turned into the spot hoping that maybe he wouldn’t be��

He was still sitting in the driver seat.

Cock sucking, bitch ass… What kind of god damned luck?!? How could he come to his senses about the meeting and run away now?

He sighed and put the truck in park, then turned to look at him. It was the very first time he’d laid eyes on the man— beyond the pictures and videos he couldn’t bring himself to delete from his phone— since he walked out of the loft.

Evan.

Or… Buck, since he’d decided to go that route and really drive the break up home.

“H- Hey…” Buck said as soon as the both were out of their vehicles. “Thanks for — for the invite.”

Tommy stuffed his hand down in his pockets, and chewed on the flat top to his tongue ring. “Of course,” he finally said. “I, uh… I felt like we really needed to talk about…”

“Everything?” Buck finished.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded along. “Everything.”

“Okay… well for starters—” Buck wasted no time jumping right in. “Don’t ever call me Buck again.” He stared at Tommy so seriously before his lips twitched up a bit and he added, “please.”

“Noted,” Tommy said and there was a pause like he was waiting for— “Evan…” Tommy added and Evan fully smiled at that; he seemed relieved. “Okay, what else.”

Evan stepped towards him. Tommy had the slightest urge to step back, but even more of one to move closer— to reach out and grab him and cling like his life depended on it. Evan reached for him first. “Don’t ever make a decision like that for me again.” Tommy waited, his eyes searching Evan’s… trying to say without saying how sorry he was. Finally Evan leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Tommy’s. “If I had needed more time to figure myself out… if I wasn’t sure about this— that you were what I wanted. I wouldn’t have just strung you along until I did… okay?”

“Okay.” Tommy wanted to say more. He thought, maybe, he should say more… but his voice was lodged somewhere deep in his throat and all he could focus on was how his lips were tingling from that kiss. Evan, like a damn mind reader, took the moment to lean back in, deepening the kiss and wasting no time slipping his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. He noticed almost immediately.

“You got a tongue piercing?!”

“I— uh, yeah…”

Evan’s eyes lit up mischievously… his breathing hitches then speeds up… he leaned in for another kiss.

****

(One hour earlier)

Buck had been very mature about the fact Tommy now had a tongue ring. In fact… he was so mature about it, that he didn’t suggest they forget the drinks, and their plans to actually talk like level headed adults do… In fact, after just one more kiss— one more quick swipe of his tongue over the flat top of the bar— he pulled away from Tommy completely; minus their hands, which Evan promptly laced together as they walked into the bar.

And they talked.

They actually talked.

They opened up— more than he’d expected them to.

They cried. They laughed. They left a few hours later and were officially back together.

Buck remained mature, and didn’t offer (beg, plead, or bargain) to follow Tommy back to his place, or bring him back to the loft. He allowed the night to end with them parting ways, but with the promise there would be a next time— and plenty of times after that— So Buck was fine with going home alone.

But when Tommy arrived at the loft, a bottle of wine in hand, his curls styled nicely, and wearing the cologne that he knew Buck loved… the maturity went out the window. He tugged him in by the collar and crashed their lips together. Buck had asked him to put a regular bar in, one with the bigger metal ball. Tommy had laughed and made a bitchy little joke but as Buck’s tongue passed over the piercing he let his lips curl up into a pleased smirk to find Tommy had done as he’d asked.

They wasted no time; Tommy’s fingers ran along the hem of Buck’s shirt while Buck hurriedly pushed Tommy’s button-down off of his shoulders. “There’s something you should know…” Buck says as they nearly tripped over each other getting up the stairs, pieces of their outfits falling off every couple steps. He leans in close to Tommy’s ear and whispers, “I got something pierced too…” then he falls back onto the bed, pants and boxers already gone and his cock standing straight up like it’s showing it’s new accessory off.

Tommy’s eyes widen. His brows fly all the way up to his hairline. He crawls onto the bed and takes Buck in his hand, tilting him back to look at the piercing better. “It’s healed, right?” Buck nearly gives himself whiplash nodding. Tommy leans in and flicks the tip of his tongue over the hoop— over the little piece of skin it’s going through— and Buck sucks in a sharp breath. “Good?” Tommy asks.

“Amazing!”

“Okay, great…” Tommy says, then goes back to licking at the piercing and around the head, and down the shaft. All the while Buck is moaning and squirming. It shouldn’t be so over-stimulative but it’s been so long… he hasn’t— not like this— not since Tommy. “Missed you; missed this…” Tommy says between licking down Buck’s cock and sucking the tip into his mouth, which only seems to make it so much more sensitive.

Buck’s toes curl as Tommy takes him all the way down. And, God, how he has missed that. Buck whimpers and lets his hands move up into Tommy’s curls; messing them up, sure, but he doesn’t care. Tommy bobs his head, making sure to flatten his tongue and let the ball rub over Buck with every slide down and back up, and it feels just as amazing as Buck remembered— it feels even better, actually.

Tommy moves Buck’s legs further apart so he can settle on the bed more. He flicks his eyes up to meet Buck’s and smiles around his cock, lining himself up so the ball goes over the hoop. It’s— well it’s mind blowing…

…at first.

Tommy gets a little too into it.

Probably due to the completely wanton noises pouring out of Buck’s mouth. He slides down all the way to the bottom, presses his tongue against the underside so the ball is pressed into the tender skin and starts to slide back up. He reaches the hoop… and somehow the ball just pops through it.

Buck thinks he’s really just thankful Tommy caught the mishap immediately… without trying to pull off— so fucking thankful.

“Uhh…” is all Tommy can manage. He holds himself up with one arm and brings the other up to try to get a finger in his mouth, to the where they are quite literally linked together. He can’t.

And just like that… Buck’s pride in his size disappears.

****

Tommy tries to move his tongue, ever so gently so he doesn't tug at the ring, but it’s useless. He wants to cry. He looks up at Evan… who is looking down at him… and looks terrified, and he can’t shake his head so he just sighs. “You have got to be joking… Tommy, what do we do?!”

Tommy knows what they have to do… and he knows Evan knows what they have to do.

“We can’t! Tommy, Maddie is at work! What if she takes the call?” He waits for a second like he’s expecting Tommy to answer, he can only blink back. “A- And I’m in the 118’s district… oh my god…” Now Evan looks ready to cry, and Tommy can’t even properly hold him about it. He runs his hand up Evan’s side, hoping it does something to soothe him. “Maybe if… if I can just get soft…” he suggests. Tommy shrugs, he doubts it but he doesn’t blame Evan for not wanting to call… this absolute disaster… in.

So they wait.

And wait.

And wait…

Drool starts to pool in Tommy’s mouth and he tries to swallow it as carefully as he can. His throat spasms, and Evan hisses, and Tommy makes a wounded noise by means of apologizing. To make matters worse, not that Evan’s erection had gone down much sitting in Tommy’s mouth… but the tightening of his throat from swallowing definitely didn’t help. They are doomed, he fears.

He looks up at Evan and tries to lighten the mood with a smile, and Evan manages to smile back, before dropping his head to his pillow and letting out a pitiful sob.

Tommy knows they can’t sit here forever. He taps Evan’s leg and points to Evan’s pants that are the closest to the bed. Carefully they shimmy together, over to the edge, until Tommy slides off the bed, stretching out his leg to pull the pants over to him. He sits himself on his legs and pulls out the phone. Evan still seems hesitant so Tommy grunts around him and puts the phone in his hand.

“Okay, fine.”

Thank you, Tommy thinks and sighs. He slowly moves his tongue, still trying to find a way to pop the ball back through the hoop, but it’s just no use. He brings an arm up and uses it to prop up his head, and listens as Evan types in the dreaded numbers.

He puts it on speaker and rests his body back on his free arm. “9-1-1 what is the location of your emergency…” Tommy watches Evan inhale deep and let out a long drawn out sigh. He gives his address, and immediately the dispatcher gasps. “Buck?”

“Hey Josh…”

****

“What's going on, are you okay?” Josh asks, eyes flicking up to look at Maddie who is in the middle of her own call and hasn’t yet heard her brother's name.

“Well… define okay.”

“Do you need medical assistance? I can send your team—”

“No!” Josh’s mouth snaps shut at the urgency in Buck’s voice. “Not— Not them… and Josh… please don’t tell Maddie you’re talking to me.”

Josh glances back up at Maddie, and sighs. “Okay…” he says slowly; quizzically. “So what’s going on?”

“Me and Tommy are stuck… together.” Josh waits for more, but his first panicked thought is that there has been some accident at Buck’s loft.

“A- Are you— either of you hurt?”

“Not… exactly. Just stuck.”

“Like… in the elevator?” Josh pries, since Buck is giving him very little information.

“I wish…” Buck groans, and Josh hears a muffled snort. “No, we're inside my apartment.”

Josh tries to run through where they could be stuck in the small loft… He comes up with nothing, And Buck has gone silent. “Okay, look… I have no idea what’s going on, or how to help you, so I’m going to need you to give me a little more details beyond just ‘We’re stuck’.”

Nothing— Nothing!!— could have prepared Josh for what Buck just blurts out next.

“Tommy’s tongue ring is stuck through my dick ring…”

Of course that’s the moment Maddie decides to look up at him. Her brows furrow and she mouths what’s wrong? Josh is pretty sure he resembles a deer in headlights, and he might have forgotten how to speak beyond a startled, “Oh…”

There’s a pause and Buck speedruns Josh through a quick explanation of what has happened, that Josh can only mmhmm back too, biting his lips between his teeth to stop them from curling upward and trying to figure out exactly how to word this in the notes to whoever he sends to… help. (33 and 40 year old males. No serious injuries. Unable to come to the door… prepare to be scandalized— he doesn’t add that last part)

Maddie is still just staring at him with a progressively getting more worried look. Finally she takes her earpiece off and starts towards him. Shit… he thinks, then quickly sends the 133 with a final note that an ambulance will possibly be needed. “What’s going on, Josh…” Maddie asks, looking at his screen. She immediately recognizes Buck’s address, gasps and grabs Josh's earpiece. “Buck?! Buck, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Josh watches the voice recorder from the call and it doesn’t move. “M- Maddie listen…” he tries, and reaches for the earpiece back; Maddie slaps his hand in return.

Her eyes frantically move over the screen, furrowing as she tries to decipher what the notes could mean. She comes to the unit responding, and scoffs. “Why would you send the 133, Josh… the 118 is closer!” And Josh can do no more than run a hand down his face, and continue to bite back the laugh that has been threatening to break free since Buck explained the actual situation. “Buck I’m sending the 118 to you… everything’s going to be okay.” Her mouth pulls down into a worried frown. “Are you there? Can you please say something…”

****

“Th- Thanks Mads…” is all Buck can think to say.

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he finds Buck's hand to hold it.

“What’s going on…” Maddie continues to press. “Is— is Tommy with you? Is he hurt? Buck, do I need to go there?”

“Please, no!” Buck cries out. “I’m… fine. It’s fine. We’re— we’re fine. R- Right Tommy?” He squeezes his eyes shut realizing Tommy can’t agree.

He does manage a garbled “Uh huh,” though… (To which Buck hears Josh snort then quickly clear his throat.)

“I, uh… I’m gonna hang up now…” Buck says, then before Madie can say anything he adds, “I swear I’m— we’re really okay. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I— I’m sure…” he tells her, hangs up and throws his head back with a loud groan. Tommy sighs around him and moves the hand propping up his head and rubs at his jaw, reminding Buck of the reason Tommy never drags out his blowjobs. “Fuck! Tommy your jaw,” he says, and moves Tommy’s hand to rub over the spot himself. “A- and your knees have to be killing you!” Tommy shrugs and leans his face into Buck’s hand. “Is this at least helping,” he asks; Tommy cocks a brow, and his lips curl up into a smirk. “Oh my god… blink once for yes twice for no,” he groans, laughing only when Tommy blinks once.

Which brings them back to the present. Bobby yells that they are coming in and the only silver lining is that Bobby has a key so they don’t have to break his door in. Something taps Buck’s leg and it’s his phone that Tommy has typed up a message on.

pocket knife. cut off my tongue. I’ll go out the window.

That startles a laugh out of Buck… which is immediately followed by a pained hiss from them both. The front door opens and Buck groans. “Up here…” he says, and they both listen as the entire team— hell it sounds like the entire station— files in.

Tommy whimpers when Chimney calls out, jokingly asking if Buck’s decent, and grabs the blanket to pull over his head.

“Alright Buck what’s… going… on…” Bobby says, first to get up the stairs— his worried look melts away and is replaced by something akin to absolute horror, which Buck 100% gets.

“What on earth…” Hen gawks as she comes up behind Bobby.

Buck feels like his face is about to catch on fire, and Tommy hasn’t moved since covering his head— so he has either convinced himself if he doesn’t move they can’t see him… or he has died.

“Is that Tommy?!” Chimney blurts out, looking around Hen and Bobby, who both slowly turn and look back at him.

Chimney shrugs. “What? I can appreciate nice features without it meaning anything, thank you very much.” He moves past her and gestures at Tommy’s backside. “And when you got it you got it…” Tommy makes a choked off noise— so, at least that means he’s not dead…

“Wait so is it really Tommy?” Ravi calls from the bottom of the stairs. Buck doesn’t answer… which is enough of an answer in and of itself.

Bobby turns back to Buck, rolling his eyes at the others. He sighs. “Okay, what exactly is going on here, Buck.”

Before he can even think up a decent answer, Tommy twitches, stiffens and then pulls his hand up to scratch at his nose. He grunts, and takes a deep breath, and Buck watches in horror as it finally clicks what exactly Tommy is doing under the blanket. “This has got to be a prank,” Hen says, pulling off her glasses and covering her eyes. “Buck… tell me this is a prank.”

Tommy continues to squirm and finally while holding his nose to suppress it, he sneezes. Buck yelps and Tommy mumbles incoherent apologies. The loft falls completely quiet; all eyes are now on him, waiting for an explanation.

His phone rings first, and he expects it to be Maddie… but it’s Eddie— and he doesn’t need to deal with that— so he sends it to voicemail.

Then Tommy’s phone starts to vibrate down stairs. “Ignore it,” Buck instructs when Ravi asks if he wants it brought up to them.

About a second after it stops, Chimney's phone rings and he answers without hesitation, putting it on FaceTime.

“Oh… oh my god!” Eddie gasps. “You two didn’t…” he sounds like he’s crying and sucks in a breath. “You two idiots didn’t… did you?!” Buck glares at Chimney, but he is unfazed, turning the camera for Eddie to see them. “You did!”

“I’m so lost,” Chimney says, looking at Bobby.

Hen is still covering her face and shaking her head.

“These two—”

“Eddie…” Buck pleads— but really… What's the use in hiding details? “Whatever…” he groans and turns his eyes to the ceiling, and Eddie shares what he knows.

And apparently, he knows everything.

So Buck wasn’t the only one who went to Eddie about his impulse body modification. Tommy had told him too— he texted Eddie after learning of his move to El Paso, and it just slid its way into the conversation.

“How did you even find out about this?” Buck groans.

“Josh told me.”

“Oh, but he couldn’t tell us so we knew what we were about to walk in on…” Hen says bitterly.

“And since when do you and Josh talk?” Buck adds.

“That is my business,” Eddie quips back. “You all have fun with… yours.” He wiggles his fingers at them, laughs again, and ends the call.

Chimney and Hen give each other strained looks, both clearly trying to hold it together. Bobby takes a deep breath, resting his hands on his hips and stares down at Buck. “Okay well we— we need to get you two… separated—” His lips tremble and he tries to stop the laugh but it bubbles out anyway. That's all the motive Hen and Chimney need to both double over. Even Ravi is laughing down stairs.

Tommy makes a pained noise and Buck knows he has to be hurting from sitting like this for so long. “Yeah, yeah… laugh it up. Can we please figure out how to actually do that?”

“Well we have to see what we’re dealing with first,” Hen says, grabbing the blanket without warning and lifting it up. “Oh my god…” she nearly chokes, and has to walk down stairs to compose herself.

Yeah mortification was definitely not a strong enough word.

It only takes the team five minutes to get them separated— Buck is sure it will take a lifetime to live it down.

****

“Are you sure you don’t want to go in and get checked out?” Bobby asks; Tommy just shakes his head and puts his hand over Evan’s, where he is holding a frozen bag of peas against his jaw. “Alright,” he gives them both a smile— it looks more uncomfortable than when he was given the medal of valor at the ceremony. “You, uh— you two…” he looks between Tommy and Evan. “Well, I’m glad you… worked things out.”

“That’s one way to describe what happened here tonight,” Chimney says, smiling smugly at the both of them.

Hen comes up beside Tommy and lays a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say you can definitely keep up.” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to her and she can’t hold back the laughter. “Maybe a little too well— you might wanna slow down actually.”

“Uhm, what— what does that mean?” Evan leans in and asks; again… Tommy just shakes his head.

Ravi hands Evan the little baggie the two rings were put in once they were removed. He doesn’t say anything, and just leaves. He pulls the door shut behind him, and then they are left alone, embarrassed, and sore in their respective affected areas.

Evan holds the bag up and sighs. “That was… something.”

“Yeah…” Tommy laughs, finally feeling like he can move his jaw again without it popping. “Next time, maybe we don’t go with the ball and hoop combo.

“N- Next time?” Evan furrows his brow but his lips are already curling up at the corners.

Tommy shrugs and grabs Evan’s hand pulling it to his lips. “If I have learned anything lately… it’s the importance of giving things another chance…”

Evan’s smile widens. “Wow. That was— just wow...” he laughs and pulls Tommy into a kiss; he winces when just the slight movement hurts. “I’m sorry about your jaw, and your knees.”

“I’m sorry about your… frenulum,” Tommy replies and Evan snorts. “Now I can’t finish what I started…”

They both pout at that… for just a moment. “Yeah, b- but… my jaw doesn’t hurt,” Evan says with a suggestive smirk. “And your dick doesn’t hurt…” He bites his lip and tugs on Tommy’s hand to stand him up.

“This is true…” Tommy states.

“So maybe we can finish what we started after all…” Evan leans in and brushes his lips over Tommy’s then turns and heads for the stairs, Tommy right behind him, and the silver hoop and tongue ring left behind on the table for next time.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #118 firefam #body piercing #tongue ring #Uhhm Dick? Ring?#I mean that’s what it is 😅#fix it fic #crack fic #smut crack #smut with plot #idk how to tag this

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thefallenangel2008 · 1 day ago

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More Autistic Sea Grunkles headcanons because I'm a sucker for them and I love projecting on my favorite characters. I guess you could call this a part 2??? Idk but here it is.

Ok, so, I imagine them having some rules about what goes in the fridge and whatnot because of sensory issues. If Stan has food Ford doesn't like in the fridge he's gonna eat everything possible but that food to avoid it and live off protein pills or however these things are called. I mean, he's already done it while traveling through dimensions so he can easily do it again. Now, when Ford puts food in the fridge Stan doesn't like there's a chance he might throw it away in the ocean (he's already done it twice) and eat only stancakes until the ingredients run out. When they do, he's just not gonna eat. I imagine them both having many foods they couldn't eat as kids but when they got in their respective little adventures (homelessness and dimension traveling) they managed to overcome some of their sensory issues because they had no other choice (and when I say "overcame" I mean managing to get used to the not-THAT-bad-but-still-not-gonna-eat foods). But yeah, they still have a bunch of foods they don't like. :P

I already talked about them not talking when they're overwhelmed but now I want to ✨expand that thought✨ a little more.😍 I already said about them going nonverbal on eachother and comforting eachother when one of them feels overwhelmed, but hear me out. Ford is the quiet autistic and Stan is the loud autistic. Personally I see Ford as the type of autistic person who will regularly go nonverbal when feeling overwhelmed. He used to do a lot as kids Stan has learned the tricks and how to calm him down. And now, when it comes to Stan. Stan never shuts his mouth, never. He's always been the loud one out of the two. So when Stan goes nonverbal Ford freaks tf out because, even though Stan has felt plenty of times overwhelmed, and Ford has been there to comfort him, when he goes nonverbal he KNOWS things are THAT bad. Especially now, when his recovering mind relives traumatic events that happened to him during homelessness. During a particularly bad PTSD episode Stan hadn't uttered a word for a full of 4 days until one night at 3:00am he told Ford to take a break from his research and go to sleep. When Ford managed to coax out of him what was this memory he remembered, Stan had titled it as the "Tijuana Incident" (yes, I'm still not over that one Stanley bit from the website, that old man is a victim and he deserves better).

Also sounds. Stan doesn't really have a big problem with loud sounds, it usually depends on the day, his mood, the size of the room he's in and how loudly the people are talking in said room. But he hates repetitive sounds. Ford is a tad more sensitive when it comes to sound than Stan. Loud noises, more particular. He remembers his ma telling him the story of the day him and Stan graduated from kindergarten and there was a party afterwards, and the loud music had made him cover his ears and cry. He doesn't mind repetitive sounds as much as Stan does. But ringing, he does.

Part 1

#gravity falls #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls hcs #stanley pines #grunkle stan #autistic stan pines #stanford pines #grunkle ford #autistic ford pines #sea grunkles #autism #sorry for any typos #i'm exhausted #it's 2:50am

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 days ago

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Tim Through the Years - The Proposal

Series Masterlist (part 10)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect way to propose. 0.9k+ words

Tim has been trying to wrack his brain on how to propose. He found the ring because of Angela and now he doesn’t know how to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Because of the incident when he got the ring, everyone has an opinion on how he should propose, and it’s giving him quite the headache. Lucy has been talking non-stop since she found out and expressed all of the ideas she had. So here he is, hiding in the interrogation room, trying to think of the perfect way to ask. Tim’s phone starts to ring and he answers without looking to see who is calling.

“What?” Tim asks gruffly.

“Hey baby, is this a bad time?”

Tim freezes; it was you calling him and not Lucy as he thought. “No, not at all, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve been having issues at school of someone stealing other people’s lunches. Today they stole my whole lunch instead of a couple of things. Everything is just gone; would it be possible to bring me some lunch? I really don’t want to eat cafeteria food.”

“Of course baby, I’ll grab some food from your favorite place”, Tim replies softly. He can tell you’ve been having a rough day just by the sound of your voice.

“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, I love you! See you soon.”

“I love you too.”

When your phone call ends, he sees he has a few texts he missed from you earlier. They were pictures of different drawings your students did and they all centered around you and him together. Tim knows that you love your students and they mean the world to you. You always boast about how much your students grow and how proud you are of them. That’s when Tim has the best idea ever.

You slump in your seat after your phone call with Tim. The kids were in the gym before they were going to head to lunch. There has been a lunch thief in the break room and even if you leave your lunch in your classroom, some of it gets stolen. You’ve never had your whole lunch stolen - matter of fact, no one has, so it looks like the thief has stepped up their game. You have your suspicions of who stole your lunch: your coworker Dennis has been causing all sorts of problems. He cheated on his wife with a student's mom, and now he blames his ex-wife for why his kids don’t want to see him. A rumor you were told was that he was a massive alcoholic who took out all his stress on his family, and he had a gambling problem. You want to make a super spicy meal for him to eat so he will stop eating your lunches since Tim puts a ton of effort into making sure you eat a balanced meal every day.

You check the time and see that it is time to pick up your class before lunch so they can grab anything they need. When you walk into your classroom with your students, you see Tim sitting at your desk with your lunch. The class all squeals and runs up to Tim, asking him all sorts of questions. Your class loves it when Tim visits and thinks he’s a superhero.

“Hey guys, I’m just here to have lunch with your favorite teacher.” Tim has a smile on his face while he talks to your students.

That’s when your class turns to you and declares they want to use their marbles to have lunch with the both of you. You use marbles as a reward system to encourage good behavior, and they can choose what they want within reason.

“How about instead of me taking your marbles, I’ll give you a free pass because you have been so well-behaved today.”

The class cheers and goes to get their lunch stuff, so you send a classroom aide to go with some students who need a hot lunch. Tim hands you your stuff and when the aide returns with your students, you tell her you are going to run to the bathroom and be right back. When you return to your classroom, all your students are suspiciously quiet. Lunch goes smoothly, with you and Tim talking about your guys' day and the students talking amongst their friends and asking questions here and there. Once lunch ends, the students say goodbye to Tim and you kiss Tim on the cheek before telling him you’ll see him at dinner tonight.

It is getting close to the end of the day when the fire alarm goes off, which is weird because there was no drill planned for today. You calmly walk your students outside and do a head count of your students. After a few minutes, police and fire arrive, and all the kids talk about how cool they thought the trucks were. That’s when you heard your name called from one of the police vehicles' microphones.

“Y/N Winchester.”

Everyone grows quiet, and all turn to stare at you. Your students run toward the vehicle, and you run behind them to try and stop them. You freeze because your students are standing behind Tim, who is on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” all your students shout together with massive smiles on their faces.

“Yes!”

#tim through the years #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #winchester!reader #fluentmoviequoter

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admirationandromantics · 3 days ago

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A Traumatic Event to Bring us Closer

Okay, so this was not a request (though I know someone in the request box have asked for angsty Josh fics, I promise, they're coming soon), but I fiddled around with a Psycho-Josh character ai-thingy, and wanted to do something inspired by that. A little longer than what I usually write, but the words started flowing and I couldn't stop.

Warnings. This does include mentions or the fear of dying, torture, and so on (all of these are scare-tactics and will not happen). Obsessive and possessive Josh. This also contains reader getting severely injured as well as blood and extreme stress... Aka ANGSTY. What I'm trying to say is if you can't read that, then I would advice you not to!

Anyways, it starts right after having seen Josh die to the construction of the Psycho, and now, the others have ran, and you try to catch up with them.

Word count: 5,5k

I run out of the shed, trying to catch up with Ashley and Chris. As soon as they saw the Maniac inside, they ran, hoping to get away from him. I was busy crying, mourning Josh… My Josh… Who this psycho cut in half with a saw.

When I saw him, my panic rose, heart throbbing in fear and heartbreak. He was wearing overalls, a shirt and a scary clown mask, slowly walking towards me. This made me turn on my heel and go, taking me to my current position: running for my life. I keep on the path, not a lot of snow underneath after everyone who walked there. The air is freezing, making my wet faze unbearably cold. My hand goes to my cheeks, trying to brush away some of it while keeping up the pace. I look behind me, seeing the man running rapidly after, his legs longer and faster, slowly catching up to me.

“Ashley! Chris!” I scream, hoping some of them hear me, but I wouldn’t count on it. They started running a while before me, leaving me with this madman. As I look forward again, my foot gets caught in a root, making my body slam down into the ground harshly. My head hurts, ringing while I try to stand up again. Suddenly, I feel something grab my ankle, and I look down to see him again, bending down while holding onto me.

I fight against him, kicking and screaming while trying to rip my foot away from him. But his grip is strong, and he keeps holding on, a low, scary chuckle sounding from under the mask. Even his shoulders move up and down from his laugh, and how entertained he is. I try to scream for help again, listing everyone I know who are up on the mountain. This seems to bother him, and he drags me further towards him, slowly working up my body while I struggle.

His face comes closer to my ear, one of his hands grabbing my hair roughly, yanking me backwards, making me sit up on my knees as he drags me. I wish I had the pain tolerance to fight back, but his hand in my hair and the other around my neck. I oblige, letting him pull me up on my feet, my back against him. My hands go to the one around my neck, silently begging him to loosen the grip. I use the last air I have to conjure a few weak words.

“Get off me you maniac!”

This seems to get on his nerves even more, yanking my hair harder and tightening his grip around my neck, making an involuntary plea escape what’s left of my throat. I hear his dark chuckle again, how he enjoys the situation, liking to be in control of me.

Suddenly, the hand leaves my neck, and I take a few deep breaths, trying to regulate myself. Instead of choking me, his hand grabs both my wrists, placing them behind me, the previous hand in my hair moving to my stomach, pulling me deeper into him. I can feel his hot breath on my ear, his face coming too close for comfort. His exhales come out quickly past each other, annoyingly like he’s amused by my resentment.

“What’s wrong you coward? So ugly you don’t even dare to show your face?” I taunt, pulling at my arms with all my might. After what he did to Josh, there was no way I was going to be nice. He killed my love, and when he kills me too, I’ll put up a fight.

At my remark, his hand moves up to my face, grabbing my jaw and pulling my head back on his shoulder. I hum, looking up in the cloudy sky, still trying to free myself. But at the end of the day, there’s no use. He overpowers me easily, both in size and strength. His irritation seems to be growing, but he still keeps up that amused tone in his dark voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Princess”

There’s something oddly familiar in the way he calls me that name. There’s actually something familiar in his voice alone, but I can’t place it. His hand moves slowly down my neck again, pushing down slightly, making me let out a painful wince. I stand still, hoping that he’ll not be as rough with his next movements.

“That’s what I thought, now keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, just like good old Josh did”

The comment sets something off in me, a rage I didn’t know I had. My chest burns unlike before, but I don’t know if it’s due to the cold or my anger. Maybe a combination.

“All quiet and whimpering while in the hands of a scary man like me…” He taunts, and I start squirming, trying to free myself.

“Scary man, where? All I see is an ugly fucking coward” I state, stopping my movements. Every time I try, I get reminded of his strength. He grips my upper neck tightly, tilting my head in his direction. A displeased huff escapes his mask, hot breath coating my neck. He makes me look up at him, seeing blue eyes through the holes of the mask. I make sure my distaste for him is shown through my stare.

“You’re not the one in control here, I am. So you better watch that damn tongue, Princess” he growls, his voice still not recognizable.

“Or what, you’ll kill me? Just like you murdered Josh?”

I can basically feel his sick smile under the mask, struggling to keep in that little laugh from the mention of his name. The action makes my blood boil. How dare he.

“You better behave yourself, or else-”

“Or else what?” I interrupt him, making his grip on me harder. But I can still take it, so I keep up my insults. “Struggling to threaten a girl, huh? Easier with an unconscious guy who you could do whatever you pleased with?” I spit out, reminding him of when he took Josh. It’s safe to assume he doesn’t have the strength to have held him like this, and probably gassed him down like he did with Ashley. He grunts in response, done with my shit.

“Think you’re such a smartass, huh? If you keep this attitude up, I’ll have no other choice than to shut you up”

“I’d like to see you try” I counter, breathing heavily and starting to feel my energy drain.

“Oh… would you now?” He teases, moving us both. I follow, not having enough energy to fight a losing battle. He turns me around, holding my wrists above my head, my back meeting a tree. I feel a small branch making contact with my lower thigh, hurting it. I try to keep my poker face, not having time to think about a small scratch. I look him up and down, now seeing his outfit in the light. It’s bloody and dirty, his mask horrid up close.

“Sick fuck” I whisper, not giving in easily. He squeezes my wrists harder, making me let out a small whimper in pain. Another chuckle escapes him, finding pleasure in my situation.

“Not backing down yet, aren’t you tired Princess, just give in”

“I’ll be a pain in your ass until you kill me, might as well get it over with” I say, standing firm on my ground. At least the ground I can reach from how high up he’s holding me against the tree. He shakes his head, clicking his tongue a couple of times as if he’s disappointed. I take this as a time to shout for the other, hoping that someone will hear me.

“Ashley! Chris! I’m here, help me!”

My yells are interrupted by his gloved hand coming to cover my mouth. I keep up, struggling against his grip while still shouting, though they only come out as muffles beneath him.

“Stop your damn fighting, just give up already. You’re wasting your energy” He complains, strengthening his grip on me. I stop, taking a deep breath and completely relaxing on him, being as silent as a mouse.

“That’s it, you look so much better when you’re not struggling like some wild animal in my arms” he compliments, hand on my mouth being slowly removed.

Just as I feel his grip loosen just the slightest, my knee comes up to kick him in the balls. I fail, but it still hits him hard in his lower stomach, making him let go and slightly bend over in pain. I don’t hesitate, starting to run down the path while he throws curses at me.

“Fucking bitch, get back here!”

I look behind me for just a second, seeing that he’s already recovered and is running a little further behind me. I shout for the others, but no one answers. I continue down the path, trying to remember all the slippery parts, doing my best not to fall on them.

“You’re not getting away that easily!” He shouts, voice closer than before. He’s got long legs, it will not be long until he catches up to me. I take a right, seeing the lodge in the distance. This gives me hope, and I keep my pace up, trying to get there in time. My heart’s beating in my throat, rapidly, chest burning from exhaustion.

I jump up the small set of stairs, quick to open the door and get inside. I see him arriving, and I lock it, hoping he won’t break it down. I take a breath, pulse high as I watch him pound on the door. I still don’t feel safe, so I run further inside, taking a quick look to see if the others are here. I can’t see them, but I decide that barricading myself in my own room must be the best option. The pounding has stopped, and I can imagine he’s working on getting inside another way. He wouldn’t know which room was mine either, and would probably think that I moved down to the cellar, knowing there’s a network of tunnels down there.

I run up the stairs, legs almost giving out from exhaustion. As I arrive outside my room, I take the handle silently, working on getting myself in quickly, without making a sound. I lock it, turning to the side and dragging one of the smaller closets in front of it. After I’m done, I breathe out, a little tension leaving my body. The adrenaline starts wearing off, and with that, the pain in my leg gets worse.

“Smart move, Princess…”

My body freezes before I can turn, knowing the voice from before. My breathing quickens yet again, making my chest hurt, sore from the cold and all the running. I turn around fearfully, seeing him sit on the chair beside the bed, leaned back and relaxed. Before my brain can follow, I grab the closet, dragging it back. He stands up, taking hold of my arm and dragging me away from the door, easily pushing the furniture back in front of it.

“N-no, get away from me” I try, but my voice breaks, all the yelling, and the cold temperature having ruined it. It sounds weak, defeated. He chuckles, a smile behind the mask, his eyes mad. He grabs both my hands, throwing me down on the bed. I whimper, feeling my thigh hurt as it makes contact with the sheets. I look down quickly, noticing blood running down it. I try moving it a little, making sure that there’s some pressure on it. He doesn’t notice, and continues to manhandle me, collecting my wrists above my head, his other hand caressing my cheek. I turn away, earning a cackle from him. My body stops fighting, knowing it’ll worsen the bleeding and the fact that I’m no match for him in my weakened state.

“Please leave me alone, what do you want?”

“Oh, I want you, Princess”

The nickname makes me sick, and I do my best not to look at him, his clothing, or at his mask. I look to the side, seeing the door, barricaded by no other person than me. I can’t jump out the window, since it’s the second story, so now, I’m completely trapped.

“And what are you going to do to me?”

“Anything I want…” he says, voice lower and not as tense. I don’t fight, I can’t fight anymore. I just want Josh, I want him back. There’s no point in anything anymore. This trip was a chance for me to finally confess, to tell him everything. And instead, I watched him die. Die to this psycho man. I feel tears form in my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face, warming me up after being outside.

“Why are you doing this to me, why did you kill Josh?”

He stays quiet for a few moments, his head leaning down to me, his mouth beside my ear, finally answering.

“He didn’t deserve to live after what he put me and my sisters through” he says, an amusing tone to the statement. I look up at him, confused.

“You and your sisters?”

“Yes, me and my sisters?”

“He would never do anything to hurt anyone” I counter, not believing him. What could he have done to make someone hate him so? And hate his friends as well, wanting to hurt them.

“Who are you?”

He chuckles in his distorted and dark voice, keeping himself close as he speaks.

“Now, where’s the fun in that? Keeping you clueless gives me such a thrill”

I wiggle against his arms, trying with the small energy I have to free myself. He hardens his grip, not letting me move an inch.

“Still trying to escape?”

“You’ll have to kill me to make me stop. Just like you did with Josh”

He laughs, gloved hand caressing my neck, fingers gracing over the place he choked me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the area was red already. Luckily, it doesn’t hurt.

“You keep bringing him up, was he really that important to you?” he teases, and I give up fighting again, trying to regain some of my energy. Maybe I can do the same I did in the forest, but doing that, I needed to control myself first.

“I’ll make you pay for what you did to him” I state, voice still weak, but not faltering.

“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that, Princess?”

“By killing you” I say again, voice steady and firm. I want to hurt this man, I want to kill him.

“Wow, and tell me, how will you do that?”

I imagine it, having him being beat up by the boys, before opening up, letting me use a knife and carve stuff into him, slowly cutting him up while he’s still alive. Hearing his pleas while keeping up the pace. Maybe I am insane, but I’ve never in my life had such violent fantasies about a person. Up until now.

“With a knife… slowly, painful”

“How exciting, but I don’t think you have it in you. You don’t seem like someone who can kill another human”

“Good it’s a monster I’m killing then” I counter, the reply coming faster than my brain can process it. But he doesn’t get mad or irritated though. Instead, he lets out a condescending laugh, shaking his head. I keep prying, still curious.

“Who are you?” I ask again, wanting an answer.

“You’re right, I am a monster” he says, his free hand moving down to my waist. I lean back, broken and defeated. This was not worth it, none of it was. I could’ve stayed home, not knowing about Josh, not being in this situation.

“Aww, too tired to fight me, but you were so fiery a while ago” He taunts, but I don’t bite. I stay silent, not saying or reacting in any way. That’s what he wants after all, reactions. Wasn’t that the point of having me watch him kill Josh?

“Just kill me, please” I plead, hoping he does, and hopefully quickly. I can’t imagine doing anything differently than now. I just want to see him, to hold him. To be in this room with him, both of us giddy and happy.

“Tell me, why would you rather die than live?” he asks, sounding oddly curious, head tilting beside me. I can feel the fake hair of the mask running over my collar as he moves.

“Let me see Josh again…”

He leans back, almost surprised by my answer. He lets go of my hands, standing back on the floor, watching me. I try sitting up, my whole body aching in pain from the small movements. I’m not going to make it out of here, not alive anyhow. If he doesn’t kill me, then my movements will probably open the wound on my thigh again, making me bleed out. I already feel a bit pale and dizzy.

“You’re in a woman’s worst imaginable situation, and you would die… to see Josh again?” He asks, voice full of confusion, not as scary as before. Maybe it’s because I don’t care anymore, but he seems so surprised he falls a bit out of character. Who is he under that mask?

I nod my head to the question, tears still flowing. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel them anymore. My mouth acts before my brain, and I blurt out the secret words I’ve been holding on to since last year.

“I love him”

“A bit honest now, are we?”

“Doesn’t everyone get honest when their lives are about to end?” I counter, shaking my head a bit. At least that’s what I’ve heard.

“Yes, I suppose they do”

“Aren’t you going to take advantage of me? Hurt me? Kill me?”

He sits down on the chair again, watching my face intently. I don’t move, after all, everything hurts. Everything and nothing at once. Because of him, because of Josh.

“No I will not, now tell me, before you die, is there something else you wish to be truthful about?”

I shake my head, not knowing why, but I can’t stop myself. I need to have said it out loud at least once, telling the world the things I should’ve said before. My voice is emotionless as I start, not knowing what to feel.

“I love Josh, I always have. I wish I told him while he was still here, before he was killed… by you”

I look up, but the mask is making it hard to see his expression. At the thought of his death, I feel my anger flare again, but my body is still too weak to act on it.

“Honestly… admitting your feelings, displaying wishes and regrets. Now tell me, how long have you had these feelings? And how long have you wanted to tell him?”

“The only one I’m telling those things to is Josh”

He snickers, that nasty dark voice back. As if he deserves to know my secrets, the extent of my feelings.

“Of course you’re refusing to tell me, too shy? Or what, Princess?”

“I imagined everything would be different than how it turned out this year” I admit, not bothering to answer his teasing remarks. He’s making fun of my pain, and I’ll not answer that.

“Oh, you were thinking that you and Josh were going to be the ones in your room? And doing what? Feeling each other, kissing? Well, we can’t have that, can we? If I didn’t kill him, I wouldn’t have you all to myself”

I look up, but I can’t bother trying to show my contempt. I’m so tired, so exhausted. Even making faces and harsh comments take their toll on me. I speak, but it’s slow and emotionless.

“I know that statement is meant to fill me with a bunch of questions, but I don’t care about them”

He hums, nodding his head as he takes it in, knowing his method didn’t work. I still keep my posture, not moving myself from it. He stares at me intently, looking deep into my glossy eyes, still wet and red.

“You just don’t care anymore what happens to you, do you?”

I hum, not giving a verbal answer. He sits himself forward, hand rubbing together, as if in thought.

“You admit it? The fact that you’ve lost all care?”

I hum again, not knowing where he’s getting at.

“Completely broken, completely empty”

I sigh, sick and tired of his mind games. I know what he’s playing at, it’s the same banter I’ve heard people try to use before.

“You know you’ve basically said the same thing three times now? Josh was a lot more original with his wording than you”

I can feel his smirk grow from under the mask, a small laughter escaping his lips as he sits up again. He tilts his head, his distorted voice sounding from under there.

“Making comparisons, are we?”

“You can’t compare an angel to a demon” I answer, thinking back about him. What would he say if he were here? He would’ve saved me at least. I don’t know if he’s stronger than this man. Truth is, they’ve got quite the similar build, so I don’t know. If I helped him, we might be able to.

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he says, and I don’t answer. He can think about it however he likes, I’ll not sit here and explain it to him. Another chuckle comes over him, enjoying the change in my attitude. I keep my eyes on him, not as afraid anymore. My adrenaline is not pumping as much anymore, and the pain starts worsening.

“Not answering anymore, Princess?”

Again, here’s something strangely familiar with the nickname as well. I can swear that someone I know has called me that before, but only a few times, not as much as this guy does. How does he know me?

“The only one I want to talk to is Josh… when I see him again”

“Josh, Josh, Josh… Why would you only talk to him in particular?”

I let out a small scoff. This madman is not that dumb. He’s been collecting information about all of us, so my declaration did not go over his head a couple of minutes ago.

“You already know, because he’s the love of my life” I state, not having said exactly those words before. It’s true, since we were kids, I loved him. Platonically at first, but it evolved, and got stronger. And now, it’s too late.

“Finally, someone’s being honest with themselves”

I lower my eyes, looking over at his piercing stare. His eyes still got a hint of amusement in them. I want to change that, I want to hurt him, kill him.

“I’m the only honest person in this room” I state, trying to seduce him into talking.

“I guess I haven’t told you much, but do you really expect me to?”

“I want to know something before I die” I lean forward, ignoring the striking pain in my thigh. That movement definitely opened my wound again, and I feel streaks of hot redness running down my leg.

“Ask anything, and I’ll see if I can be honest with you”

My question is ready, it has been since the first time I heard his voice. The anticipation and wondering is driving me crazy.

“Who are you”

He smiles under the mask, there’s no denying it, already having heard the same question several times before.

“My identity? All you want to know is who I am?”

“Yes”

He nods his head, amused by my straight forward request. I try to keep my reply short, after all, getting this information out of him means no side-tracking.

“Well, since you’ve been so cooperative for the time being, I’ll be honest”

I wait, trying to hide my curiosity. It’s not hard to mask it, pain overtaking me anyway.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to know? Not going to guess, make some assumptions?”

“No” I state firmly, not taking any more of his bullshit.

“I am… an individual who doesn’t always feel like himself”

I sigh, hand going to my thigh, trying to slow the bleeding.

“Are you that much of a coward? Can’t answer a simple question?”

“Fine, okay, okay… I’m someone who doesn’t always feel… human”

I sigh again, a small part of me realising that we might not come to an agreement. I try a different direction, mumbling something underneath my breath, just high enough that he can hear it.

“If you’re that ugly, you can just say so. I won’t judge”

“What did you just say?”

And he took the bait.

“Nothing”

His head shifts to me, sitting straighter. He’s offended, I know he is. If I can continue playing on his ego, maybe I’ll get my answer.

“No. ‘If you're that ugly, you can just say so’, is that what you said, Princess?”

“I don’t remember” I lie, shaking my head weakly.

“Excuse me? You suddenly don’t remember, as if I’m supposed to believe that”

“I’m sleep deprived, haven’t had water in many hours, body exhausted from running, and I’m bleeding out. All factors can lead to struggles to remember things”

He nods his head, suddenly stopping and looking up at me.

“You’re bleeding?”

He looks over me, seeing my leg, covered in red. It’s still oozing out, but it will still take a while for me to die from it. His body starts twitching, as if panicked.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he asks, sounding a bit worried. I’m taken by surprise as he runs over to the closet grabbing a few sheets and ripping them up into smaller pieces. Has he been in the lodge before? Maybe he uses it when the Washingtons aren’t here. He comes back, kneeling down, starting to wrap them around me. I stop him, pushing his hands away.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Who are you?”

He looks up, meeting my eyes through the mask. They almost look sad, guilty.

“A monster…”

He shifts his gaze, turning his attention back to my wound. He reaches behind into another drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors, starting to cut up my pants, making the wound more exposed. As he rips the fabric off, he throws the sharp object out the open window, with surprising accuracy. Probably to keep me from getting my hands on it and stabbing him.

“Does this monster have a name?”

He sighs, finishing up wrapping my thigh, stopping the bleeding.

“My name is… Josh”

My eyes widen, shaking my head as I try to push myself away from him. I can’t, my leg hurting too much to move. This is another sick trick to mess with me, to mess with my feelings. He notes my expression, my shocked eyes and disgust.

“What, don’t you believe me? Don’t you think I’m being honest?”

“This might seem funny to you, but I saw you kill him you fucker. Don’t you dare taint his name like this” I state, fury rushing through my body. He chuckles darkly again, the sympathy that once was there for me, gone.

“You really don’t believe me. I’m your childhood friend, your high school crush and college study partner. I’m Joshua Washington” he whispers, coming closer to me. I can sense the amusement and glory radiating from him, and it makes me sick.

“You’re not, you’re hiding behind that damn mask of your like a coward, trying to make me believe your lies”

“Don’t want to accept the truth, huh?” he asks, voice a bit less disoriented. He’s changing his voice as he speaks, but I won’t have it.

“It’s not the truth, he’s dead, you killed him!” I scream, leaning closer to his face, as much as I can in my condition.

“Oh princess, I’m right in front of you”

“The only thing right in front of me is a monster. A psychopath in a mask, claiming to be Josh, my Josh. You’re not tricking me”

He laughs, his voice changing more and more, getting less darker and more real. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue, he looks up at me again.

“Are you really that hard-headed?”

“Why should I believe anything you say? You have no support for your claims, you’re even down in negatives, because he is dead!” I shout, voice still broken and hoarse. My throat hurts, feeling like I’m ripping off a bandaid every time I form a word.

“Oh, you want evidence?”

“You don’t have any”

He chuckles, hands going up to the base of his mask. He takes a breath, slowly pulling it off. I watch as he does, waiting patiently while he drags it off his head. Finally, he reveals himself.

I can’t believe my eyes, and I furrow my brows in confusion. This doesn’t make any sense, this doesn’t work, no. How can this be? I saw him die, I saw him get cut in half by a saw. I’ve been running from a crazy maniac who was going to kill me, and it was all him. I’ve poured my heart out, thinking I was going to die, and he’s been sitting here, laughing at me.

“Surprise, princess”

“No”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

I shake my head, seeing his smile as he keeps nodding, contradicting me.

“You’re not real”

“I’m sitting right in front of you”

I reach my hand out, fingers gracing over his cheek, feeling his skin. His hand comes up to mine, pressing it further in on him. He leans on it, still a smile on his face. I feel tears start to flow down my cheeks again. He’s alive, he’s here.

“Y-you…”

He nods, urging me to continue, but I don’t. I can’t use my words, I don’t know what to say, so he talks instead, voice beaming with pleasure and delight. His eyes are not like I remember. There’s a sort of darkness to them, insanity.

“Yes Princess, it’s me, no more games, no tricks, no lies. It’s just me, just Josh”

I shake my head, pulling my hand away from him, earning a hurt look back. These words, these explanations, these events. This is not the Josh I know.

“You don’t sound like yourself, you don’t behave like this”

“You’re right! So much has changed in the last year, oh I can’t begin to tell you all my plans for the others” he exclaims, walking around the room, being happy.

“What?”

“Well, this was all a traumatic event to bring us closer, right? The relief in your eyes when it was me. You needed to lose me to finally be able to tell someone, so why not tell me yourself!?”

“What the hell, Josh” I whimper, head hurting from it all.

“Oh, but this is just the start! Now, it’s time to get revenge for my sisters, and after that, we can be together, right? I mean, I never meant for you to get hurt, but it's okay because now you can stay here while I play out the other things I’ve got planned. As long as you stay here, you’ll be safe, just as I want you to be”

I stand up, pain shooting through my body as I do. I feel desperate, too desperate. I need the others, and my voice is almost all used up. He watches me intently, hands going around my body to steady me. I shove past him, walking over to the door, starting to push the dresser. He just watches, wondering if I’ll be able to do it. Luckily, I manage, standing on my only good leg. I unlock the door, which makes him walk over, taking hold of me.

“No, we can’t have any of that, get down again” he commands, sitting me down on the bloodied bed again, walking over and locking the door.

“What are you going to do to me? Just do it now and get it over with, shoot me, dissect me… Please”

He laughs, looking at me as if I’ve made a joke.

“Oh, Princess, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

I’m silent, not daring to answer. He stops laughing, noticing my expression. He then shakes his head, standing up and walking around the room again. He looks troubled, and a little worried, like he’s fighting a battle against himself.

“No, there’s nothing to be scared of, I’m making sure that you’re safe, so nothing happens to you, you understand, yeah you do! Think about that while I finish up the prank, okay? I’ll be up to check on you in a while”

He walks to the door, taking the key from inside, opening it, and locking it from outside. I look around, his skull-clown mask on the ground, bloodied fabric, bloody bed and the open window. Crisp, cold winter air flowing inside. I don’t know what to do.

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cian-meimei · 3 days ago

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ramble/drabble

SOME CALEB X READER drabble as a warm-up for future fics!!!

divider credits to @/enchanthings

Your gege is always been the most popular kid in the block. Dependable, fun, and easy-going. That’s just a few of the plethora of adjectives people would use on Caleb. When you, him, and grandma moved in Bloomshore District, it didn't take long for him to become assimilated within the neighborhood. He became the leader of a group of bullies who originally wanted to show him who’s the boss in the streets, but was amazed by his ability and chose to submit. It also didn’t take long for him to become the favorites of the aunties and uncles in the neighborhood due to his bright personality. Compared to him, it was a lot more difficult for you to adjust.

You have always preferred being cooped inside the attic, letting your imaginations wander to who knows where, until your gege calls your name and whisk you away from your daylight fantasies. As such, you began to depend on your gege in every little thing. Gege this, Gege that. It became a life habit that at some point in highschool, some of your classmates would make fun of you behind your back and call you a bro-con. That time, you didn't know what that meant and only thought they were making fun of you and your Gege. The thought of Caleb being the butt of someone’s joke enraged you. How could they? How could they make fun of your Gege when Caleb has been nothing but kind to them. Later that day, you ended up having to call your Grandma in the Principal’s office, penalized for putting strong, sticky, and transparent glue in your classmate’s chairs.

As you grew older, you also became aware of your unhealthy dependence on Caleb and started to fill your life with purpose other than him. You became a hunter, partly because you want to find out the truth about the mysterious aether core inside you, and also perhaps live your life away from his tremendous influence. You started making friends with your colleagues, and at a surprising turn, you met one of your closest childhood friends, Zayne.

He had become your primary care physician, and he provided you the respite you never knew you needed. With him, you start to believe maybe there’s hope for you. Perhaps you could still live normal with your already absurd life. You thought mayhaps these feelings you didn’t dare speak off would be buried in the passage of time, and Zayne could save you from this shameful abyss.

Caleb’s job as a pilot also helped widen the distance between the two of you. With both of your schedules packed, the interactions between you lessened. Sometimes he would call, and even though you’re free you wouldn’t answer his call, letting it ring again and again as you stare at the night sky outside your window. He would call you multiple times, and you wouldn’t answer his texts until a few hours later, making up lies about being busy and such. You dared to deceive him like this because you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. He would just respond with “it’s ok, i just missed you and making sure ur ok :p” making your chest hurt so much you’d go to Zayne thinking you’re having a heart attack.

Zayne likes you. Clearly. How ironic is that between the three of you, Caleb is always the open book and Zayne is the ice-block with permanent stoic expression. Yet, you can easily read Zayne but cannot guess your Gege’s thoughts. So you thought, why not give this a chance? Maybe this is your ticket to freedom and redemption. Zayne likes you and cares for you, while Caleb will always treat you as his non-biological little sister, his meimei.

You already bit into the apple of sin, but you cannot drag him into the abyss with you.

#caleb x reader #caleb x you #lads caleb #love and deepspace #loveanddeepspace #lnds #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #zayne lads #zayne l&ds #lads zayne #caleb lads #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x mc #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb

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abbysimsfun · 2 days ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 131 (The Gold Medallion)

Heather and Spencer were both grateful when the antidote arrived by morning. Spencer met a local merchant near the cantina for the medicine while Heather stayed in bed to rest. Once she drank it she felt better, if still a little nauseous, but after lunch the girls decided to venture to the museum.

They set up a few dig sites and found a few relics, but when the sun got too hot, the women changed into sundresses.

Finally, the sun was so hot they gave up digging and took shelter inside the museum. Walking through different rooms to view the priceless artifacts on display, Heather stopped when her phone beeped with an incoming text.

Suri keeps talking about getting married after her Aunt Elsa's death and I think she's going to propose to me. What should I say?!?

(I know that's not what the pop up says, but if I make these canon, they can't all be the same scenario as a ring in a bag!)

Heather was surprised to learn Hazel and Suri were already thinking about marriage, and she didn't feel equipped to offer advice one way or another.

This is a big decision and you should decide this for yourself, Dandelion. Love you.

She thought her answer more than sufficient, but Hazel was clearly upset and texted back quickly.

I thought I could really rely on you for life advice, sis. If I knew what to do, I wouldn't have to ask.

Heather frowned. That definitely could have gone better.

"Hey Heather, come in here. Come look at this."

She put her phone away and found Spencer in a stone-walled room, standing before a diamond-studded gold medallion inside a glass display. A plaque on the wall revealed the medallion's inscription - found deep inside the Selvadoradian jungle decades earlier, the medallion was inscribed "A gift from Malcom A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth."

Spencer chuckled. "A Lady Goth and a Landgraab? That's a wild combination."

Heather froze. "Lady Victorine Goth and Malcolm A. Landgraab? How old is this necklace?"

"They think it's from the early 20th Century," Spencer read. "Malcolm A. Landgraab was a rancher out west, and Lady Victorine Goth was Lady Ravendancer before her marriage, one of the world's most powerful spellcasters who published a book of spells. But both were married to other people and there's no evidence they ever knew each other."

"Other than this necklace," Heather mused. "I should ask Mortimer Goth about it. Maybe he knows something about them."

"Do you think it'll have something to do with the curse?"

Heather shrugged. "Hopefully there's no curse, but if there is, and it does have something to do with it, I have to know more for Ash's sake."

Despite taking the antidote, Heather still felt feverish and fatigued. They headed back to the rental so she could take a nap, and Spencer took the time to analyze some of her new artifacts.

By dinnertime, Heather was feeling peckish, so they returned to the square for a nice evening in town with the locals. Heather remembered Conrad's fear that they could run into members of Los Tigres de Selva, but she was feeling well enough to really enjoy herself and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

The night was warm, so they both dressed accordingly. On the way into the square, Spencer made an offering to the statue of Madre Cosecha, a Selvadoradian custom.

"She helped settle this place during a time of great famine," explained Spencer. "A true hero. Hopefully she can help keep us safe on our temple dig tomorrow."

Heather smiled. "We should stock up on more supplies, anyway. She would want us to protect ourselves and I don't need another spider bite."

They enjoyed arepas under the lights and chatted proudly about their kids. "Violet gets into everything, and she's got her older brothers wrapped around her grubby little fingers."

"She sounds a lot like Lavender. One minute she's sitting quietly looking through a book, and the next minute she's tearing through the bookshelf. And Ash has me convinced I could design an adventure game featuring stray pets. I even reached out to a philanthropist who loves to help game developers as a hobby named Cal Anthony, Jr. Suri actually recommended him - he's married to her mother's cousin, Olivia - but he said this was totally doable and he'd be happy to mentor me anytime. I think I might actually do it. I even have a name - Furever Friends: Stray Valley. I couldn't decide which I liked better so I added a colon to use both!"

"That sounds amazing, Heather. I'm sure my kids would love to play a game like that! How are things with you and Ash's dad these days?"

"As good as they've ever been, probably. Even when we dated. It's sort of strictly professional between us, but Ash comes home happy from spending time with Malcolm's family, so I can't complain. I guess they just got a new puppy, too."

"The kids won't stop trying to convince us to get another dog," Spencer moaned. "I think we're hoping to change their minds with a hamster, if anything."

When they finished eating, they moved to the cantina, where Heather decided to autonomously mix drinks at the crowded bar. Spencer danced the Selvadoradian rhumba in the courtyard while she talked Omiscan mythology with the locals. She was an expert in Selvadoradian customs after all her time spent in the temples and among the people, and she never tired of talking about the secrets of Selvadorada's past.

Their night continued until Heather began to feel feverish and fatigued again. Though the antidote had seemed to work, the women didn't want to take any chances and called it a night.

As long as Heather was feeling well enough, they had a temple to explore before returning home. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Landgraab Curse you say?! More on that, here, if you want to know more.

A massive shout out to @opalsimmer and @berrysims-lp, whose sims Lucia, Silas, Neve, and Terrell first saw this medallion inside the Selvadorada museum! I recreated it in my game with @opalsimmer's help and intend to explore this mysterious Landgraab/Goth lore. (Uncovering some family secrets, of course!)

And thank you @oimygiblets for letting me make Calivia Forever canon even though your story takes place about three decades before mine!! And @opalsimmer and @matchalovertrait for naming Heather's video game! 🙌🙌🙌

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #selvadorada

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marshmellin · 2 days ago

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Galadriel is a kick-ass, legendary warrior in Arondír's eyes. I suspect other rank-and-file elven soldiers view her similarly.

Every time (every. time.) Arondír is on screen with Galadriel, we get to see how much true awe he looks at her with. Arondír gives us the unique perspective of how Galadriel is perceived as a warrior among other elven soldiers. Gil-galad and Elrond (as well as Círdan and Celebrimbor) are all very familiar with Galadriel and her bullshit. They know her great deeds on the battlefield. In some cases, their in-show vibe has been like: Yeah, the darkness, the shadows, the evil. Valar, we know, you are older than the sun itself. YES, we will text you if the darkness returns, grandma, just staaaaaaahp fighting so much.

Arondír looks at her in a completely different way. He looks at her with the eyes of one who knows of her great deeds, and can not believe he is now in the same room as her. The look on his face, IMO, says she's damn near a mythical warrior at this point for him. (To get poetic and therefore less accurate with it; Galadriel's status to this rank-and-file elven soldier is: Athena. The Morrígan. Freyja. Ishtar. Durga.)

Arondír's face when Galadriel:

"So, Theo, m'boy, that is Lady Galadriel, commander of the Northern Armies, and she's here to save every Valar-damned one of us. I can not believe she's here, are you kidding me? She is a LEGEND. Put some respect on her name and heal her already, Elrond, why are you standing there like an idiot if you have a magic ring? Are all High Elves this insane?"

Arondír's face when not Galadriel:

I think there’s a deep beauty in seeing just how much Galadriel has inspired other elven soldiers, and how long she has been fighting. For Arondír to say her name like that, with such relief and awe in his voice, truly says something to how he — a normal elven dude who used to be a grower before he was hauled into mandatory watchguard duty or whatever the hell — views her.

I don't get the sense that he and Galadriel are work besties, so to speak. So that makes me think Arondír knows of Galadriel and her skill from what he has heard of her — her renown, her reputation. Potentially her magical hair color.

And this warrior respect she has won is highlighted again. Arondír knows her enough to trust her and listen about when to attack Adar outside Eregion. The man wants blood even if it's his own, and she talks him down. Galadriel is the reason he is alive rn, candidly. Her on-the-field advice to both him and Theo — to pause, to show restraint, to plan for tomorrow — is indicative of the type of leader she is.

This, to me, also makes the nearly-kinda-sorta mutiny when we first see Galadriel hit so much harder. If she is this near-mythic warrior and general known by all, and soldiers like Arondír know of her greatness from stories of what she has done — if she's THAT GIRL from a warrior and leader perspective and yes JRR did in fact make her that girl — then yes, that mini-mutiny at Gil-galad's order stings so much more. Not only that Gil took command of these five troops and said "follow her until you reach X and pull back regardless of her command." That sucks a lot. But I see additional pain there, IMO, because she could interpret that move as Gil-galad saying "her judgment as a warrior and leader can't be trusted. She no longer is the mythical warrior we need." A hit to her reputation in front of other soldiers, not just a censure of the actions she took. Yikes bikes on your timing there, Ereinion.

Bonus Trek Thought:

Truly, the first time Arondír said “Galadriel” with wonder to Theo, he instantly made me think of BOIMLER in the SNW/LWD crossover ep! He is bashful and giddy about meeting Number One on the original Enterprise. GIDDY. Every time he sees her, he is in awe. And it's because she was a legend to him. Her story inspired him to join Starfleet; set him on his life's path, literally. She was the coolest officer and fighter and scientist he had ever heard of.

his hero. and now he's meeting her.

An additional note: We can read the look on Arondír's face as romantic, too, don’t get me wrong -- ship and let ship. Would it be the Arondriel girlies (gn)?. But jokes aside, I don’t want to relegate Arondir’s closeness and warrior bond with her to romantic only. Miv has unstoppable chemistry and so does Ismael. Hot people are hot, more breaking news at 11.

#arondir #trop #rings of power #galadriel #oh and by my two faiths and troths my lords *i* have spoken *mine*

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ceo-of-sloppy-women · 2 days ago

Text

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 12

Or read it on ao3

Cw: zombies, near-death experiences, emotionally constipated butch woman

Chapter 13

A loud pounding at the door rips you violently from your slumber. Heavy footfalls sound through the house as Sevika marches down and argues with whoever’s at the door. She’s not calling for you, though – so you roll back over and burrow yourself deeper in the sheets. You’ve almost fallen back to sleep when someone throws open your door, and you realize, much to your horror, you might actually have to get up at this ungodly hour.

“Come on, toots, get up: we’ve got work,” Sevika’s grouchy voice rings through your mind as she throws open the curtains in your room. A sliver of moonlight sheds into the room and right onto your sleeping face, making you groan as if it were the brightest sunlight.

“Fuckin’ Hells, it isn’t even morning yet!” you whine, rolling over and taking the covers with you in the vain hope she’ll leave you alone.

“Up,” Sevika grunts, shaking your shoulder with the force of a woman who wants whatever this is over and done with.

“Ugh, fine! If you tell me why the fuck you’re waking me up before dawn can even flash its ass-crack,” you grumble, already rolling over to reach blindly for your pack.

“Vander wants us to go to Piltover. Apparently, we’re missing some key supplies. Paper, ink, rubber – mostly stuff for your printing press – and any medical supplies we can scrounge up. Got a list of the rest of it, it’s long, so get up, you can sleep on the ride over there.” Sevika tosses something on you and you blink blearily at the pile of clothes in your lap. “Wear those. Yours are gross – the smell alone will attract infected.”

“How long have you been up?” you ask, staring down at one of Sevika’s shirts. Her clothes. She has given you her clothes to wear. Without waiting for an answer, you strip off your sleep shirt and toss it into a heap on the floor. Your sleep-deprived brain intentionally flashes Sevika your tits (lower inhibitions and all that) as you fumble in the rickety dresser for your sports bra. When she doesn’t answer, you cock your head at her, too tired to be embarrassed as she stands there staring at you, eyes wide, pupils blown with an expression that bordered on both starvation and frustration.

Noticing you’re staring at her, Sevika merely grunts and trudges out of the room. You hear her heavy footfalls on the stairs leading down to the foyer.

Tossing the weird interaction to the side, you finish getting dressed, grab your pack and meet her downstairs. She says nothing to you – not even a “let’s go” as she marches out of the house and down the street. You follow behind her quietly, twiddling your thumbs as she buys breakfast to-go from the diner that’s stays open overnight for those working the nightshift. A black coffee for herself, two breakfast burritos, and your drink of choice. It is way better than any before-dawn breakfast has any right to be. Sevika doesn’t slow her pace, forcing you to eat and speedwalk at the same time to keep up with her. You don’t dare break the silence by asking her to slow down, worried that you’ve somehow upset her with your little strip tease. Thankfully, she has to stop for them to bring your horses out, so you’re able to scarf your breakfast burrito down in record time (which definitely isn’t good for your digestion, but that’s neither here nor there).

As you lift your foot to slide it into King’s stirrup, Sevika finally speaks up: “Oh, just come here, would ya? You look like you’re barely able to keep your eyes open. Can’t ride a horse like that.”

You blink owlishly at her, putting your foot back on solid ground and shuffle to her side. She holds out her hand, so you take it (because what are you going to do, argue with her and piss her off more?). With a solid grip on your hand, she pulls you up onto the back of Duchess, pressing your hand to her waist. You hesitantly rest your hands around her waist, wrapping them together more than her, not wanting to overstep boundaries even if she is letting you ride with her.

“I ain’t gonna bite ya,” Sevika sighs, resting her hand over top of yours to press them against her stomach. “Go back to sleep. It’s a long ride out.”

Despite her generosity, her clipped sentences put you ill at ease. You can only hope she’s just grumpy because of how early it is as you tentatively rest your head on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly against her neck. She shudders against you.

“Don’t mention it, princess,” Sevika grunts, nudging Duchess forward. With a swift whistle, King trots behind her, saddlebags loaded with your gear.

The gentle rock of Duchess’ trotting lulls you into a sense of peace as you melt further into Sevika. She leans back against you, a solid, steady presence holding you to herself as best she can while also steering Duchess. You watch the trail roll by, tree after tree, pulling you back down to sleep. Despite the obvious danger of the open road, you place your trust fully in this woman you have accidentally fallen in love with. Love. Huh. When did you start loving her, rather than a passing affection?

Does it matter?

You smile against the back of her neck, slipping under into sleep.

Piltover is overgrown – the same veins that had been growing out of the weather station climb up buildings, strangling architecture. You stare up at them in awe and horror, keeping an eye out for any infected as Sevika guides you through the streets. Duchess and King were left at the edge of the city, grazing happily in the grass – it isn’t worth it to bring them in the city and risk one of them breaking a leg or getting bitten. Skyscrapers tower over you, the pillars of progress that once stood testament to the feats of man, now crumbling echoes of legacy. You’d never been to Piltover – you had seen pictures and videos, but the stars had never aligned for you to witness the city in its glory days. Then, when you finally might have had a shot to visit, the world had spiralled into insanity. Part of your ancient reptilian brain itches to have seen the lights on – watch each building sparkle in the night sky as the light pollution sucks the life out of the world, choking what little semblance of nature is left with smog. Now, only the body of shimmer clings to the lifeless husks of progress. The veins sparkle on the buildings in the late morning sun, purple against grey, mixed with the green of life – office plants choking their way through the windows of skyscrapers.

“It’s… beautiful,” you whisper, knowing your awe should be eradicated in the face of shimmer infection. Yet, you can’t stop yourself – Sevika’s beauty did not fade from her developed immunity. Why shouldn’t this be beautiful, too, in its own strange, fucked up way?

“Better than what it was,” Sevika shrugs, eyes tracing familiar streets as you walk past the corpse of a gas station. “Keep an eye out, this place is infested with the infected. Nasty ones: belchers and goners, mostly.”

“Right, yeah, I’m watching,” you swallow thickly, hands gripping your rifle.

Sevika nods her head, turning down the next street. Scavenging isn’t new to either of you – together, you avoid the places most likely to harbour infected, checking buildings picked clean to see what others missed and venturing into the cavernous abyss of unlit megastructures that once made up the city of progress. It is entirely uneventful (much to your relief and disappointment). You find various amounts of the supplies on the list, with medical supplies being the scarcest, shoving your bags full of everything you could possibly carry. After years of taking on what you need, obsessively keeping your pack light enough to run, you delight in picking up everything of interest and squireling it away. King can carry far more than you have ever possibly dreamed of hoarding, without putting either of your lives at risk should you have to outrun infected.

“You know, I thought this was going more interesting,” you mutter, kicking a can across the pavement of a broken parking lot.

“I’ve been here enough times to know how to keep us safe. Besides, we’re only on the outskirts – we’d need more gear if we were to go any deeper than this. There are hordes the size of Zaun in there,” Sevika explains, her top half buried under the hood of an abandoned car. “Why, you want to get bit? Can tell you it ain’t fun, sweetheart.”

“I just thought this would be more interesting, is all,” you shrug, leaning against the side of the car to avoid looking as if you’re staring at her ass. Which you totally aren’t – hugged by old jeans, broken into the shape of her hips, a crumpled carton of cigarettes in her back pocket that only pulls the denim tauter. Okay. Fine. You’re definitely looking at her ass; you’re no better than a man.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Sevika chuckles, pulling free whatever part she was scrounging up. You’re not familiar enough with cars to know the specific parts, but you’re best guess is a sparkplug. She pockets it a moment later, so even if you knew more, you wouldn’t get a proper enough look to recognize it. “Ready to keep going?”

“Lead the way,” you say, pushing off the car and readjusting the grip on your rifle.

Sevika burrows her way through three more buildings, your backpacks starting to weigh both of you down, gradually making you walk behind her. At first, you’re too concerned with infected jumping out at you to pay attention to her. Until an odd sense of security washes over you in the middle of an abandoned toy store, Sevika shoving various science kits and other toys into her bag for Isha. You’re following behind her, picking up a few things of your own that the kid might like (and grabbing every ball of yarn you come across) when you notice it: Sevika’s limping.

“Hey, you doing okay?” you ask immediately, sidling up to her as she stares at the LEGO sets.

“Yeah… why?” she grunts, barely paying attention to you.

“You’re limping,” you state outright. No sense in beating around the bush about it – especially not in the thick of danger. “You want to start heading back to the horses and let them send another team to finish the job?”

“No, I’m fine,” Sevika snarls, her face scrunching in disgust as she scowls at her leg.

“But –“

The glare she shoots you has you clamping your jaw shut hard enough your teeth clack against each other. You hold your hands up in surrender, doing your utmost to bury the pity in your eyes. She turns around and keeps going, limping more as if her leg is genuinely aching now that she’s paying attention to it. Or, as if she’d been trying to hide it from you. You swallow thickly, trying to come up with an excuse to get her to leave early – any excuse will do, really; if she wants to act like a child about it, you can do the same. It doesn’t even have to be a good excuse, just convincing enough for her to turn around (unfortunately, “my feet hurt” probably won’t fly with her). Sevika’s pain also puts you more on edge, your head whipping around at every little sound. This would be the absolute worst possible time for the two of you to stumble upon infected – you’re not sure you could take on the size of a horde that gunfire would attract, even with Sevika’s help.

Unfortunately, the dreaded inevitable has a way of finding you at the most inopportune moments. It comes in the form of paint cans clattering in the back of a hardware and craft store the closest the two of you have gotten to the heart of the city all day. Standing in the yarn aisle, you freeze, staring at the back of the shop in horror. Your heart hammers in your chest, yarn clutched in your arms, as you see a humanoid shape lumber and stumble its way around the back of the shop. Trying desperately not to breath, you shove the yarn into your back, glancing constantly towards the back of the shop. It has yet to lift its head, but you know the moment it does, all Hell will break loose. Infected had a disconcerting way of showing up in droves if you encountered even a solitary one. Sevika is one aisle over, frozen just as you were, holding the last of the supplies that Greyson had needed for the printing press – ink. Red ink. Your stomach churns as you stare at the jar in her hand, reminded only of blood.

You rest your hand on her shoulder, not wanting to speak and alert the infected. Her gaze whips up to you – wild, violent and terrified – you both know grabbing the ink will make enough noise to alert the infected. It makes your stomach churn.

She grabs an armful of ink, the glass containers clinking against each other as she shoves them into her bag. An inevitable snarl erupts from the back of the store and shakes you to your core, twisting in your guts – the starving sound of insatiable hunger: Goners. Sevika’s head whips up as she shucks her bag over her shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes: “Run.”

Hesitation isn’t an option. You spin on your heel, racing towards the exit, with Sevika’s heavy footfalls right behind you. The purple veins that line the streets pulsate, lighting up as you race desperately toward the edge of the city. You don’t even need the wave of infected to crash out of a local supermarket to know that it knows you are here now. It knows where you are. It always has, yet, in that moment, you can only remember the weather station and what you found beneath in the bunker. Sickly horror engulfs you as your surviving mind puts two and two together: it’s a hivemind. The pulsing veins of life that curl around buildings spread out like signal amplifiers – the undulating mass wrapped around the air ducts, beating like a heart – inorganic potential rendered organic and starving. Suddenly, you don’t want to know where the purple veins come from (nor what they’re made of).

The sheer shock of horror jolts through your system, propelling you faster through the street. So much so that you nearly skid and slip around a corner, Sevika still on your heels when you whip your head around to look. Your heart thunders in your chest as you fire off a poorly aimed (yet successful) shot into the chest of a stumbler in your way. It falls to the ground, allowing the two of you to rush past it. Two more infected around the next corner; two more dead bodies. Over and over again, blood begins to splatter your shirt as you hear the thunderous roar of the wave chasing after you. Fear convulses in your chest as adrenaline narrows your focus. You have go – you have to get through this; if you just make it back to the horses, you’ll make it back to Zaun. You just have to make it back to the horses.

Until a roar of pain thunders in your ears, and you whip around to see Sevika ten feet behind you, shotgun smoking as broken concrete digs into her ass. You race back toward her without a second thought, reloading your gun with shaking hands. Your ears ring as the horde of infected race your approach, what was once a deafening roar stilling to a soundless void. Only the pounding of your heart thunders in your ears. Shot after shot after shot rings out through the streets like hail during a storm. Sevika grabs your leg – she’s shouting something at you, trying to shove you back, but your heels dig into the pavement as you widen your stance behind her.

“GO! Leave me to this; I’ll be fine!” she’s trying to shove her back at you, but you hold your gaze firmly level with the oncoming wave.

A shrill screech echoes through the street as one of the ascended (as Singed had affectionately named them) crashes through the shop window of a nearby building. Its uncanny face piercing fear through your spine, as its limbs bend unnaturally, propelling its body into the front of the horde.

“I’m not leaving you! Get up!” you bark back at her, cocking your rifle for another shot.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” she roars at you, scrambling something out of her side pouch. The pin drops to the ground next to her.

The emergency grenade goes flying into the horde as you pick them off – it explodes, picking off quite a few of them as the ascended explodes in a haze of purple. You follow the grenade swiftly with one of your own as Sevika resigns herself to letting you cover her ass while she drags herself up. Three infected get too close, and you nearly swallow your own tongue out of fear. Once she’s standing, the two of you mow back the infected just enough to give you time to spin around and keep running. Giving her no time to argue, you sling her arm over your shoulder and start running, forcing her to accept your help rather than offering it. If she wants to argue about it, she can argue back at the horses!

You race past the same shops and back through the parking lot, the can you’d kicked is crushed under the weight of a belcher that gets too close to your heels. Sevika’s knife is embedded in its forehead. Thankfully, she has other knives, pulling one out of her thigh holster as the two of you continue to run. You can feel her weight growing heavier on your shoulder as the horde only grows closer behind you. Using every last ounce of adrenaline left in your body, you pull the two of you towards the edge of the city, one hand wrapped around the grenade in your pouch, just in case. If you are to die here, you will die clean and pretty, having been swaddled in the warmth of community one final time.

Thankfully, there’s a break in the wave in the form of a narrow street, which allows you and Sevika time to stumble into a clear street. Despite the lack of danger you continue running, legs screaming in agony for you to stop. The hill where you left the horses is just over the bridge, smattered with derelict cars. A sharp whistle from next to you calls Duchess and King over the hill to the end of the bridge as you help Sevika weave through the narrow passages of abandoned cars. Infected are scrambling at the end you came from, trying to get over cars and chase after you, but their uncoordinated patterns bog them down as you stumble out in front of the horses. Sevika slings herself into Duchess’ saddle, you follow suit into King’s, and the two of you take off racing toward Zaun (taking the long way just to be sure you don’t lead any infected back).

The jingle of supplies in saddle bags follows you down newly acquainted trails as you agonize over how best to breach the necessary conversation with Sevika. Worry broils in your gut as you watch her flinch at even the lightest jostle of her leg. Yet, she is firmly ignoring you, eyes piercing the forest line ahead, white-knuckling Duchess’ reigns.

#fanfic: no grave...#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika x oc #arcane #arcane fanfic #ao3 link #post apocalyptic #zombie apocalypse #zombie apocolypse au

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reelovesfictionalmen · 2 days ago

Text

sfw headcanons for Captain Mactavish

As always Reader is female, 30+ and works in the military. No appearance mentioned or body parts.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Casual platonic affection a pat on the back or shoulder. If feelings are romantic leaning then his shoulder and back pats become hands rested on your back and shoulder instead of patting, extending the contact his hand has with you.

If you two are seeing each other then he's much more handsy, hands on, touchy. Sitting next to you with his arm around your shoulder, stroking your arm or cheek. Likes to go on leisurely strolls with you, holding your hand in his, enjoying the fresh air and quiet. Please sit in his lap, will give you the biggest blue puppy eyes like he's willing you to plant yourself on his lap.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) He would be the "mom friend" in a way, being a captain makes him more attentive to needs. Have you been eating enough? You look thin. Are you sleeping well? Might even watch what you eat to make sure you're getting enough nutrients. Soldiers need balanced meals with carbs, fat, protein and lots of vegetables!

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

You asking "permission to come aboard, captain?" then leaping into his arms after he says yes is his favourite thing. It never fails to make him smile or laugh. He will bury his face in your neck and cling to you as he holds you

Likes a good lazy morning cuddle. Stretches out like a cat before reaching over and pulling you unto him, nuzzling into your head or shoulder. Will probably fall back asleep.

Got an air conditioner put in the bedroom because it made him kind of upset when you would push him off in the summer time because it's "too hot". Does he sometimes set it lower than it needs to be so that you'll seek his warmth in your sleep? You bet your ass he does.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Would like to settle down, have kids, a house, a cat and a dog. Is unsure if that will eventuate due to how dangerous your careers are BUT, if life lets him he wants all that with you.

Makes the bed with military precision every day. Fluffs all the pillows and blankets to be perfect. Likes citrus clothes washing powder. He's a decent cook, makes a damned good cottage pie.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In private and in person. There would have to be some betrayal or abuse for him to leave. He's big on weathering the bad times in a relationship, not giving up unless you've both tried your best.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Would like you two to live together for some time before getting engaged. But yeah, that man wants to put a ring on it, he wants you to be Mrs Mactavish, he wants to be yours and you to be his.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He has better emotional intelligence than the og and new 141. He's still a man so sometimes the nuance of our emotions can escape him. Likes to rough house and manhandle you but is SO GENTLE about it. The smallest "ow" and hes all big blue eyes and apologising like he kicked a puppy even if you just whacked your elbow on something.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Big bear hugs. The kind of hugger to sway side to side while hugging you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Was saying it in his head for months before he said it out loud. He'd probably wait to say it until a special occasion if you don't say it first.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Gets a little jealous. When he sees other people, men or women, flirting with you he might scowl and be thinking in his head how they need to back off. Doesn't so anything in public, he wouldn't want to embarrass you like that. He's a gentleman. Is going to kiss the heck out of you and grumble about you being his when in private.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The kind of man to take your face in his hands gently and kiss you everywhere. Small pecks on your brow, cheek, nose, chin and jaw before finishing with a lingering kiss on the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

They love him. He loves them. Wants a daughter and a son. He gives off livestock guardian vibes with kids. Like, those big ass dogs that will fight a wolf if they come near it's flock.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Even when off duty he likes to keep a routine. Getting up, eating, working out, showering. That's not to say if you ask him to stay and snuggle in bed that he will say no. He'll set back the schedule an hour or two for you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Watching tv on the couch or armchair. Watching game shows and discussing the answers. Joking around about movies, just fun casual couple tv nights. Likes watching "It's me or the dog" and curses out 90% of the owners on the show. Is very passionate about proper pet care.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It's hard to anger him. He doesn't yell or throw things. Will walk away and cool down , telling you to do the same before you guys talk again.

Does get quite angry on your behalf. Someone wronged you? Treated you with disrespect? How dare that little cunt. Doesn't go harass them or anything but will grumble along side you as you complain.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Knows what food you like the best, what colour you love, your favourite flowers. If you want him to buy you something for your bday you need to tell him the exact thing, where to get it and when. He will not get hints.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you were high on pain killers in the base medical wing after an injury and told him to leave you alone because your bf was scary and will fight him when he tried to hug you. He thinks it's cute.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He would like to wrap you in cotton wool, keep you safe from harm and away from the cruelness of the world. But you'd bloody kill him if you tried. You're a military woman, you're strong, smart and dangerous on your own. That still doesn't mean he still doesn't want to shield you from it all though. He will settle for having you safe in his arms pressed tight to him.

He feels like he can truly relax and feel safe when you take care of him, let him be vulnerable. Washing his face, tending to his wounds, talking him through tough times, letting him rest his head in a safe port so to speak.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Is pretty spontaneous for dates. you guys don't get much time to plan. Go to the deli, get deli goods, bread and something to drink and have a picnic sort of thing. Leans towards outdoors dates. Walks in the park/along the beach, hikes, going for drives out into the country and having lunch at a random cafe.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Rearranges your kitchen. Will put things in the wrong drawers. Not on purpose. But he just defaults to the way things are on base or when he was a bachelor. Nose picker. You saw him wipe snot on his jeans once and you scolded the HELL out of him and he was so embarrassed. Keeps a handkerchief in his pocket for the snot now.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He uses your shampoo and conditioner because it makes his hair soft. Likes to keep his mohawk crisp. Doesn't like a full naked face but some stubble. Likes wearing clothes you think he looks hot in. One time he was wearing a tight turtleneck and tight jeans, you said it was "indecent". Neither of you left the house that day ;)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yeah. Once hes in love, you guys live together and are serious he wants you by his side every day. That's impossible ofc due to your jobs but, he notices your absence.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Cat dad. Loves cats. Donates to Scottish wild cat preservation. Is very passionate about the wildlife of Scotland.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Drama queens. Brats. People who think it's okay to stress out their partner to get a particular reaction from them.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleeps on his stomach most of the time. One arm under the pillow and the other touching you. Drools on his pillow sometimes.

Will be posting a nsfw list in the near future. I've got something special planned. I am a "dom soap" in ever iteration of him truther and it's going to run along those lines. Different to the heavy dom johnny fic i posted on ao3.

#captain mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #captain mactavish x you #captain mactavish #og soap

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