#bob swish side to side

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips. 

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over. 

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.”  He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions. 

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile. 

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Sucker: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@cosmic-psychickitty @ilariyalavorowrites @spooky-librarian-ghost

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Running isn’t supposed to be fun.

It’s supposed to a hard relentless pursuit to maintain peak physical fitness.

A way of training your mind and body…

“Come on slow poke, you’re falling behind.” You call over your shoulder with that devil may care grin and Jack huffs out a laugh because that was his mentality before you, before he got to see that firm Lycra clad ass and swishing ponytail.

If that doesn’t change your perspective on running, well he doesn’t know what will. It’s part of the reason he’s been lagging behind the past half mile during the park run, conserving his speed for the finish line. The other part is the prize he has in mind.

“I’m just a poor old man with a prosthetic leg.” He calls out as you hit the final straight. “How do you expect me to keep up?”

“Oh no Jack.” You say slowing your pace, your eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Is it hurting you?”

His baby, she’s so kind and conscientious. She’s also a complete sucker.

He erupts with a burst of speed sailing past you, the word ‘motherfucker’ hanging in the breeze behind him as he laughs to himself, hurtling towards the tree that marks the finish line. His palm slaps against the signalling the end of the race and he turns around in time for you to give him the  middle finger as you do the same.

“You. Are. An. Asshole.” You say as you lean over, your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath. “ A trickerish son of a bitch…”

“Faye.” He says softly and you look up to find his face in close proximity to yours.

It takes you a second to realise he’s down on one knee, that he’s holding a ring in his hand. It’s beautiful, silver with a midnight blue sapphire in the centre, a pinprick diamond on either side of it.

“I won the race honey and you know the rules.” He tells you, the left side of his mouth quirking up into that handsome smile. “Whatever I ask you can’t say no.”

“Jack.”  You whisper, your lips brushing over his as he slides the ring onto your finger. “How could I ever say no to you.”

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[specsthesecond]

Witch Troubles #3

It's a fairly common practice among witches to form pacts with demons.

The witch gains a stronger connection to magic and in exchange the demon gains easier access to the mortal realm.

You've debated this decision for awhile and you finally think you're ready to forge your own pact. Worst case scenario is the demon refuses your offer, which would be embarrassing but not the end of the world.

You shut the door of your room, close the black out curtains and light a few candles. Squinting at the diagram of the summoning circle in your grimoir you try to replicate it perfectly on the old wooden floorboards in white chalk. When it's done you dust off your hands and place the candles in the right places around the circle along with a good amount of enchanted salt around the circumference for your protection. You stand up and take a breath before reciting the ancient words in your book while channeling all your energy into the circle.

The flames burn higher, so hot you have to shrink back a little. It takes all your effort and concentration to keep the chant going without misspeaking or burning the house down. A giant fire now billows in the centre of the circle, something large rises from the middle. You finish the spell and the flames gradually flicker away to reveal exactly the entity you were trying to summon. The little candles around the circle are the only source of light now, barely illuminating your guest. Smoke smoulders off its skin as it rises to full height and stares right at you with it's flaming eyes.

The demon, male it seems, stands in the middle of the summoning circle as tall as your book shelf and just about as wide. True to the drawings and diagrams in your texts he stands on two thick furry goat-like legs. The soft looking tuft at the end of his long thin tail swishes against the old floorboards as they creak under his weight. The rest of his body is charcoal black but otherwise fairly human save for the large goat-like skull that is his head. Beautiful horns, much too majestic for a demon, sprout from the white bone and curl into a thick loop on either side of his skull.

In short; he's the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

Two flaming pits behind the eye holes in the skull serve as eyes, they burn red and hot like the flames of hell as he glares down at you. You assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell.

You clap your grimoir shut, unable to look away from the demon yet. He seems the same, quietly observing you.

"Good evening, I'm sure you know why I've summoned you."

You say as calmly as possible. The demon looks you up and down and hums lowly, sceptical.

He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. You have to use all your self control not to look down at the incredibly distracting package he's carrying between his legs as it bobs with the movement. Obviously you were prepared for him to be naked, demons don't wear clothes but actually having to practice that self-control is another thing entirely.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the demon speaks, low and gravely like you expected.

"Witches used to dance for us around fires, bathe in the blood of sacrifices, throw orgies. This is all I get for my pact proposal?"

That's not what you expected. You were expecting some doubt sure but he sounds... offended? He's complaining?

"I don't need to do any of that to show you my worth. You can already sense my magic capabilities, I can show you- ."

He growls again. When he speaks his jaw bone doesn't move, the voice sounds like it reverberates around the skull on its way out.

"Its about devotion, witch. You show me your devotion and I'll give mine in return. No one cares for presentation anymore."

Who needs presentation? Sure, devotion is important in a pact but he's being ridiculous. You look around the room for a moment before saying flatly,

"My apologies but I will not be sacrificing anything or throwing any orgies and I cannot dance."

The demon scoffs and adjusts his crossed arms, thick biceps flexing as he does.

"All witches dance. Your ancestors where very good at it."

You scoff, telling him about your magic capabilities definitely isn't going to work. Why'd you have to get a difficult demon? Why couldn't you get a normal power-hungry one?

"Are you truly that compelled by naked dancing women?"

You attempt to needle him in hopes of avoiding what you know is inevitable. He doesn't respond, just stands there expectantly.

Some demons may agree to pacts based only on the power of the witch but others don't care for power and value the devotion of the act much more. You were very much hoping for the former but you're going to have to deal with what you got.

After a few moments of staring at eachother you finally crack and bend down to make quick work of your shoes and socks. You dropped your skirt around your ankles, take a deep breath and slide your panties down your legs. You see the demon shift his weight in your peripheral but you don't look at him as you unbutton your blouse and unclip your bra. You leave your black pointy hat on your head, assuming that's part of the appeal.

You only look back at him when you're completely naked, standing Infront of him and crossing your arms over your tits, mirroring his own stance.

He seems amused at that, You can see the little flames in his skull move up and down in a way that indicates he's soaking in your nude body.

"Unfortunately, dancing naked around a fire was not passed down to me like the magic was."

"A pity."

You scowl and the demon huffs smoke through the holes in his skull, chuckling.

"You're a witch, magic exists in your very veins. Use it. Caress your body. Sway your hips. Feel the power in your body and worship it as you would a god."

He says it like it's incredibly obvious and you actually feel inclined to listen to him. You close your eyes and try to "feel the power" whatever that means. You uncross your arms and place them on your thighs, slowly moving them up your waist and back down again.

Your skin feels especially sensitive being completely bare in front of such a powerful being, who is also naked. Just the light touch of your hand makes your skin prickle as you move your fingers slowly across yourself.

You start to arch and sway, hands moving up your thighs, across your stomach, along your neck. You free yourself, offering your body to this demon. The demon growls lowly and says in a deeper tone than before,

"The point of the pact is the connection. You summoned me, This is your pact to forge so show me your devotion."

His fiery eyes follow your every move, every sway of your hips and bounce of your tits.

You carefully run your hands from your waist up to your tits, briefly feeling the soft fat before moving up your shoulders. You stretch your arms high, now putting your tits on full display for your demon guest, the attention and cool air makes your nipples harden.

You turn around, your back facing the demon and he huffs irritably at being denied the sight of your perfect tits. His grievances are smothered when you bend down and run your hands up the back of your legs all the way to your ass, gripping the fat just enough to make it jiggle for him.

You can feel the room getting hotter, you can see his cock getting harder and you can feel the wetness In-between your legs as you dance.

You give one last tantalising hip sway before slowly dropping to your knees in front of him, on the edge of the salt circle. You look up at him while sliding your hands up your thighs, from here you have a perfect view of his half hard cock, looking so thick and heavy the sight has you nearly panting like a dog.

You rest your hands behind you, now presenting your entire body to him, tits perked and pussy drooling, devilishly tempting.

"Does that satisfy."

You say gazing up at him sultry gaze flicking down to his cock, you swear you saw it twitch.

"You know exactly what would satisfy me."

His voice is deeper than before, more gutteral and it makes you squirm. You might have been embarrassed about being so open about his effect on you if it wasn't for his obvious arousal for you. You're honestly just glad this is going well so far.

You lean forward, shuffle closer to the salt barrier and stick your tongue out, mouth open and waiting, silently begging for him.

The demon's hand goes to hold his cock immediately and he steps towards the barrier holding his cock out, but before he can place the tip on your hot tongue, you pull back slightly with a sick grin on your face.

The demon tries to grab your face but you retreat further, past the salt circle and therefore out of reach. You look up at his collosal frame with a smug smirk as he growls in irritation and the candle flames flicker violently.

"Don't forget, this is a mutual pact, demon. You don't call the shots... I want to be on top."

"What makes you thin-“

"I'm on top or you can go back home."

He grumbles something unintelligible, shaking his head in disbelief. One hand goes back to his cock idly stroking the thick member as he nods his head, accepting the terms.

You stand and steel yourself before wiping away a portion of the salt line with your foot, breaking the circle. You reach out for his hand and he accepts it with the hand not stroking his dick, stepping out of the circle and into your bedroom. His hands are immediately on your skin, thick fingers running along your waist and down to your hip. His skin is so warm, like the blood running through his veins is boiling hot giving the surface skin a pleasant warmth.

He stares down at you in suspense waiting for your go ahead.

You bring your hands up his chest and around his broad shoulders, and pull him down to your height only to push him down your body until his skull face is right Infront of your pussy. You let him get a good sniff of your smell before pushing him down to the ground with your foot, standing above him looking very tryumphant.

He doesn't have much time to marvel at your figure above him because before he knows it you're sitting on his dick, pussy pressing right against his cock, he bucks on instinct, the wet warmth of your pussy against the heat of his cock makes him let out a gutteral moan.

You slowly rock your hips back and forth the length of his cock, an impressive length but one you could manage. Neither of you can stand the foreplay any longer, his hands grip your waist at the same time you finally slide his cock into your waiting cunt.

You both groan at the feeling as you pop the mushroom head into your cunt and you slide your pussy down to the hilt, feeling every vein of his hot cock against your walls. You're so slick and needy the fat cock slides in with surprisingly little resistance. That makes him chuckle, which you cut off with a deliberate thrust of your hips.

You plant your feet on either side of his waist, moving all the way up back to the tip and then plunging back down again taking him as deep as he'll go. You bounce and hump on this demons fat cock, tits bouncing in tandem, pretty face in the throws of pleasure. It's a sight to see and he loves every minute of it, clutching your hips but letting you control the pace.

The fur covering his legs is soft and warm against your ass as you ride your new pact mate. Your hands rest on his strong chest as you lose yourself even more in the intense pleasure. Panting and groaning, as you approach your high, your thrusts get more frantic as if you're trying to get him even deeper into your cunt. Your eyes are locked onto the way his pretty cock disappears Into to your cunt, the fur at the hilt becoming wet with your slick.

"Ah~ cum inside, cum inside, cum inside me!"

Your frantic pleas are heard when he wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his other hand firmly on your ass pushing into you as deep as possible. You finally cum around the throbbing cock clenching your walls deliciously, pressed into his chest. He cums seconds after you, shooting abnormally hot cum deep inside you. Your body stills as you cum down, his strong arms move you body against him in shallow thrusts as he bucks up into you, riding out his high.

You limply lie on his massive chest catching your breath as you come down, ignoring the drool you left on his pec. You realise he's eerily quiet and look up only to find he's staring at your face in a manner you think is expecant? Only then do you actually realise that his dick hasn't gone down at all. You can't help but laugh, pussy involuntarily clenching making the demon clutch your hips tighter.

"Is this all for me or is it just a demon thing?"

He huffs out camp fire smelling smoke from his skull and leans up into a seated position. The change in position makes his cock adjust and you moan softly at the feeling while grasping his large biceps.

"You've got jokes."

He looks down at you, you try to read his expression but it's really hard when his hands are massaging your hips so nicely and his cock is touching new spots inside you making your head all fuzzy. He smoothly lifts your thighs and flips you both over so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you.

It's such a glorious sight. This massive sexy otherworldly creature staring down at you with such lust. You can't stop yourself from pulling him in closer by the back of his neck and mumbling,

"Do demons kiss?"

The demon huffs again and opens his jaw showing his razor sharp teeth, from the darkness behind the skull comes three appendages, long and wet. Those are his tongues, and you moan a little when you realise that. He leans closer and the prehensile tongues worm their way to your mouth where you greet them, mouth ready and open. All three appendages slip into your mouth to explore and rub against your tongue, it's so messy and gross it makes you clench around his cock.

He grunts and thrusts into you, thrusting his tongues deeper into your mouth making you gag. You stick your head in his open maw, pulling him in closer by his thick horns. You take the tongues with vigor and suck on them like you would a cock. He seems to like this quite a bit as he grabs both your legs and pulls your knees up to your ears, bending you in half and presenting your dripping pussy to him. He starts thrusting his cock much deeper in your pussy than before while thrusting his tongues down your throat simultaneously.

The pleasure is so intense as he gradually speeds up, working up to a brutal pace. He fucks you into the floor, so deep, so good. It's so animalistic it makes you go feral. He tongue fucks your throat with fever, his dangerous maw wide open. Knowing that he could tear your flesh easily if he just closed his jaws around your head turns you on an unthinkable amount as you take his tongues deeper down your already full throat.

You want him deeper in your throat even as you choke and gag. You want him deeper in your pussy even as he pounds you raw and hard, reaching so deep he kisses your cervix. Your brain is mush and your thighs burn, you scratch and claw his back for some kind of grounding as you quickly reach your peak again.

Your screams are muffled and gargled but the sound of your wet pussy slapping and squelching around his cock as you cum echos throughout the room. He growls and snarls into your mouth when he gets close, tilting his head back in absolute bliss.

He wraps his arms under your thighs and around your back to lift you up and squeeze you against his hot body. He pounds you even harder now with gravity on his side, forcing you down on his cock as he thrusts up in time.

His tongues leaves your mouth suddenly as he cums hard, groaning loudly as he fucks his seed deeper into your already soaked cunt. With your mouth free you groan like an snimal, tongue out, tears streaking down your face, spit running down your neck. You soak up the feeling of being folded in half and filled to the fucking brim by this demonic beast.

Your moans mix in the hot air between you. His cum is so thick and hot inside you, filling you up once again. You're so full you can't contain it all as it pours out of you and onto the floor. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, milking his cock with your tight pussy as you lay limply in his hold.

You sit on the floor for a few minutes holding each other close and catching your breath. He nuzzles his head into your sweaty neck and moves your body into a more relaxed position so that he's hugging around your waist and your legs rest around his torso. You feel each other for a moment, his cock still plugging up your messy cunt. Hes quiet, like he's thinking about something. You're not sure you can even speak but if you could you don't really know what you would say.

He leans back to look at your face, you realise you probably look an absolute mess, tear streaked face with spit all over your mouth and chin. He looks into your eyes like he's looking for something specific and you look back into his two small flames. He slightly nods and then holds you close to his chest once more, enveloping you with his body.

Suddenly your body gets hot, he gets hot. His hold is like a hot vice and you struggle against it on instinct but he just holds you tighter. You almost scream when you feel a red hot flash in every artery and vein in your body. The heat is gone just as quickly as it came and you sigh in relief before looking up at him in shock when you suddenly realise what he just did.

He accepted the pact proposal.

You let out a breathless laugh and lean up to place wet kisses all over his skull head.

He growls low and irritable like a cat.

"That's not necessary."

He grumbles like he's annoyed but doesn't move away from you as you give a few more kisses along his jaw. His tail swishes idly behind him.

"Well neither was fucking me. Twice."

You tease him while reaching for your discarded hat and plopping it back on your head. You shakily stand up on wobbly legs, he holds his hands out to your hips to stabilise you. Cum drips out of your cunt and his gaze is drawn to where it oozes down your thighs.

"Not that I'm complaining."

You balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders and clear your throat, trying to seem a little put together as he stares up at you. You very casually lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, presenting your puffy, dripping cunt to him.

"Are you the fuck and leave type or do you stay for the cleanup? "

The demon chuckles and opens his maw again, wet tongues slipping out and reaching for you, licking up your cum covered thighs and up to the source of the mess.

You're both going to make very good use of this pact.

[prettynpinkputhy]

Cat and mouse

Warning: MDNI⚠️, Language, penetrative sex, raw sex, sexual themes, praise, breeding etc

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Sylus wants to switch things up

Sylus likes pain. Biting, scratching , choking the list goes on and on. You’ve explored the more vanilla side of things. Letting him take control and submitting yourself completely. tonight was different. he wanted a change of pace. You lay sprawled over the satin sheets of his California king bed, legs spread and face flushed. Sylus stepped away for a moment, leaving you needy and curious. Your hips wiggle with anticipation.

What was he doing? You could never predict the onychinus leader's next moves. After What feels like an eternity, he comes back. You admire his bare chiseled chest and low ride of his boxer briefs, that delicious V line is deep and prominent. A thick vein roots from his navel to the ungodly places you craved to explore. He stalks toward you, unraveling something you can’t make out in the dark.

you whimper helplessly. “Mmm such sweet purrs from my kitten.” He rumbles.

“On your feet.” He caresses your chin with the tip of his finger, tilting your low eyes to meet his. Your body moves on its own, dragging your weight up and over the edge of the bed. He takes your place, crawling up to the rumbled spot you’d been laying in.

You can see it now. A single wine colored tie, a lighter and a candle you’d recently bought together on a couples shopping trip. Your brow arches.

“We’re going to play a game of cat and mouse.” He smirks.

”take that there and bind my wrist.” Regardless of how out of place this dynamic feels, you obey. His body is huge in comparison to yours meaning you had to quite literally climb the length of him till you were face to face with his intense red stare.

You do a simple knot, mindful of his wrist.

”Tighter, sweetie.”

you swallow nervously at the familiar nickname. It still makes your pussy throb every time you hear it. With a nod you tug firmly, securing it so tight it might bruise. A deep rumbling moan vibrates through his chest.

”That's it. Don’t be afraid. You could never hurt me and even if you could I would enjoy every second.” This ignites something in you.

your hands are steady as you reach for the candle and light. You flick it, touching flame to wick. It flickers and the wax starts to liquify, filling the air with a sweet woody scent. Sylus picked the fragrance himself.

In no time a pool of hot wax forms on the surface. You swish it around unsure what comes next.

”Don’t be shy kitten. You know what to do.” You dip your finger in and hiss—it's hot. Very hot.

”I'll let it cool a bit.” You say.

”no. I want it now.”

”-but…”

”now.” He rasps desperately. His abs flex as you raise the candle above his torso.

He sucks in air as the first drop falls down the line of chest, it slides down his stomach before solidifying just above his belly button. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lower lip latched between his teeth. Something stirs inside you. A sense of power. Your movements are confident now as you pour a steady drip all over his upper body. His cock jumps in his boxers, twitching with every drop of hot wax.

“Ah, mmm, it seems my dove has transformed into a ravenous raven.” He pants, the veins in his arms pulsing under the confines of the silk tie.

”Do you want it?” You whisper close to his ear. He takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and nip your neck.

”Show me all your tricks, Ms.hunter” your resolve snaps like a twig. You don’t bother with taking off your panties, you simply hook two fingers in the crotch and yank them to the side. Your fingers work his boxers down at a blurring pace. His rock solid pulsing length bobs free, slapping his lower stomach upon exit. The tip is beaded with sticky pre, a testament to his overwhelming arousal. You can feel him, the heady undeniable carnal lust brewing inside him. His cheeks are feverish, his lips parted as he holds your gaze hostage.

His brows scrunch. “Don’t make me beg.” He nods down to his throbbing engorged cock. The bulbous head leaks clear fluid on his stomach, your clit throbs in sync with your racing pulse. Your own slickness seeps from within, coating your thighs. As much as you wanted to take his swollen sensitive tip into your mouth you couldn’t wait. He had to be inside of you now. You straddle his waist, his hands fight his bonds frivolously as you hover above his needy manhood.

“Please.” His hips buck upward, seeking even just an inch of your warmth. Your chest heaves as you grasp his shaft, angling him at your slipper slit. It’s pure ecstasy as he breaches your tight channel. His cock head pulses in time with his beating heart. You can’t hold back, anymore. Those crimson fluttering eyes cast a spell on you. Your hips slam down in one fluid motion, taking him all in one go. It’s compact, the stretch leaving no room inside you.

Your head falls back as you howl in pleasure, he’s touching the very back of your cunt—the spot that leaves you breathless.

“Fuck. You’re being greedy, kitten.” He growls, pumping his hips up to grind into your G Spot. You back arches like a cat on top of him as you try to acclimate to his ridiculous size. You get your rhythm and soon find yourself bouncing up and down with ease. His nails dig into the fabric of the tie as you roll your waist, swirling his hardness deep inside your heat.

“No no wait, not like that. Fuck I’ll cum to fucking quick if you-“ he hisses, trying to break free. You take that as your que to move harder, faster. Your ass slaps against his pelvis with every stroke, the pressure in your pussy an intoxicating ache. Every drop of your hips forced him into your weak spot. Sweat mixes with the smell of the candle making your head spin. You bend over to bite the smooth skin of his chest as you fuck down onto him harder.

“Fuck fuck fuck no I’m close fuck slow down y/n…” he groans, his silver head falling back into the pillows. The words barely leave his lips before you feel him spasm inside your clenching soaked pussy. A hot flood fills your womb as your own release washes over you. You fall into his neck, panting and exhausted.

“Untie me. We aren’t finished.” His cock is iron stiff inside of you.

[solbaby7]

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: cassian x rhysand’s sister!reader

warnings: sneaking around, suggestive language, swearing, possible sexual content either way minors DNI, mutual pining, a simping Cass and a meddling Az

summary: The General Commander of the Night Court finds himself falling for the High Lords precious little sister.

—

Cassian knew better.

He was smarter than this—had better self-control and discipline than hundreds of thousands of men combined but all of that crumbles to ash the second you come prancing past in those tight pants. The same ones that sat low on your hips paired with the skin tight sleeveless top that showed off the wink of your navel and the dangling piercing that resided there. “Your brother know about that?”

“Oh, Commander,” His jaw clenched at the title, the sing-song lilt of your voice and the bedroom eyes that raked down the giant length of his form. Never in his life had he ever felt so anxious under a woman’s gaze and he fights the urge to shift his weight from foot to foot. “You’d be positively baffled by the things my brother doesn’t know about.”

It was a taunt; perfectly manicured nails plucking at a string that was already seconds away from snapping. Even then, Cassian can’t seem to help himself and like a small animal with little sense of self-preservation—he’s caught in your trap. “Like what?” He clears his throat, the words coming out too soft, too desperate and yet he can’t find it in him to be embarrassed when you’re looking at him like that.

Dark lashes frame pretty eyes that trail down the length of his body, a feline smile on full lips. “I really wish I could say, General,” Never had his body reacted to his title in such a way; skin burning like a flame when it came from you, dark hair hanging over your shoulders and he wills his knees not to buckle when you stalk closer. A manicured finger just barely grazes the length of his bicep and he’s already fighting the growing erection beneath his breeches. “But, I just can’t be sure you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“I won’t say anything.”

You raise a brow, head quirking to the side and you’re unabashedly aware of the fact that this wing of the house was utterly bare save for you and Cass. “I’m throwing a little party tomorrow,” His surprise is evident; as witty and seductive as you may be, it was common knowledge how responsible you were. The pressures of perfection always weighed heavier on a woman and you handled it well. “Come if you’d like but only you.”

“Where?”

There’s a mischievous glint in your eye, fingers toying with the hilt of the sword hung at his hip. “Can’t say—you’ll just have to find me.”

He’s stuck in place when you saunter off, hips swishing from side to side until you disappeared behind closed doors at the end of the hall. Cassian huffed out a shaky breath, a hand raking through slightly overgrown strands as he willed his heart to return to its normal rhythm but he was already a goner. Mind utterly consumed in all things you from the shimmering pin tucked in your hair or the shiny sheen glossing over pouty lips.

For twenty-four hours he’d obsessed over the smell of your soap until his focus was shifted to the breathy little grunts you offer when sparring in the ring the following morning. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“Because,” You huff, breathing labored, sweat dripping down your back and you’d long since tied your hair in a knot at the top of your head. “I’m tired and can’t stop thinking about food.” You get in a few good jabs but the exhaustion sets in much quicker for you than it did the Illyrian soldier.

The idea that sets into his mind is disgraceful; pupils dilating at the very thought and he nearly moans out loud when you bend over to grab your canteen. Stretchy shorts hug tight around the curve of your ass and Cass is already diving head first into filthy fantasies of you bent over just like that with his face shoved between your thighs. It feels so real his mouth actually waters, throat bobbing with a gulp and his hands clench into tight fists.

It's wrong.

He couldn't—shouldn't—be thinking such thoughts but it's like you're doing it on purpose. Body elongated and spine dipping when tugging off the sweat-soaked training top. Only left in a sports bra and the holsters that wrap along your wrist and forearm, holding two swords so sharp you could probably slice his head from his shoulders with the right amount of intent. Yet, for some reason it doesn't deter him; the lethality of you that was always kept contained like some secret weapon just waiting for their moment.

The shirt hits the floor with a wet shlop and before Cassian can form words, Azriel is brushing past him with a knowing glance. "We'll feed you after you fight me," Cassian hates the way his nose scrunches in jealousy, lip twitching to curve into a snarl at the easy banter that arises between the two of you. Azriel stalks you like prey, sharp eyes raking up the length of skin you have bared—even if he does do it significantly more subtle than Cass.

You offer a breathy laugh, throat moving over the large gulps of water before falling into stance. Its casual, body loose from the thorough warm-up and Cass feels his blood rush at the mischievous smirk growing in the corner of your mouth, eyes darting to the shadows beginning to circle you. "Shouldn't take too long," Confidence dripped off your tongue like hot honey. "If you play fair, that is."

Az slowly tilts his head to the side, acutely aware of the rage radiating off his brother from the edge of the ring. It doesn't deter him in the slightest, shoulders rolling and wings tucking in preparation as a breeze shifted through his hair. "What's the fun in that?"

It's annoyingly fluid and Cassian just can't quell the frustration; lips scowled in a sneer the closer you and Azriel got. It should've been him with his hands touching your skin; should be him making you grunt and snap out snarky remarks whenever you'd lost the upper hand. The General's jaw clenches, teeth gritting when Az slams you down on the mat, holding down your arms as you struggle beneath such weight. "That's fine," Azriel jokes, sun beating down on golden skin, shining across amber irises and the brilliance is nearly overwhelming—nearly. "I like 'em squirmy."

It happens so fast that even the shadows don't have time to react when a whip of endless darkness wraps around the spymasters neck and snatches him back. The element of surprise works in your favor, offering enough time to get back on your feet and gain some distance despite the fact that he recovers unnervingly quick, gaze darkening under the challenge. "What? I thought we were having fun, Azzy?" A innocent little pout completely contridicts the growing throb of power that hums off your frame. "Playing around."

The sharp sting of metal unsheathing and the blades attached to your forearms are unfastened, the hilt twisting with practiced ease as you adjusted your grip.

You play the clueless female well—too well.

Maybe that’s why Azriel underestimates the true extent of your focus; too trained on the rapid rising and falling of your chest, the way your left leg trembles slightly with exhaustion and he’s completely blindsided by the way you adjust your magic to him. The deep abyss of darkness that usually comes when calling your power shifts, the shade adapting to that of Azriel’s shadows until there was no way to tell where he started and you ended.

You take the opening, mentally patting yourself on the back for the look of genuine shock that smears its way across Azriel’s face and he’s on the ground in seconds. Your knees dig into the juncture of flesh in his biceps, applying pressure to vital nerves as you hover over his chest. “Alright, alright,” He taps at the mat twice, sweat lacing his brow and fingers going numb. “You win.”

With a deep exhale, you flop to the side and sprawl flat out on the mat, limbs boneless as your head lazily turns to face a brooding Cassian. “Feed me. The Heiress of your Court demands it.” Maybe it was the linger aftershocks of jealousy that leads Cass to saunter over and hoist you over his shoulder. It’s effortless and the surprised yelp that strangled free is slightly more embarrassing that being manhandled. “Cassian,” You grunt, bunching your hands in the durable material of his leathers to brace yourself. “Put me down, right now!”

His amusement rumbles against your belly, one large hand splayed high on the back of your thigh. “I’m only doing as my Heiress asks.”

A flush warms your cheeks, no longer able to blame it on the sun when the cool air of the house shifts over your skin. “Seriously, put me down. You stink.”

“You don’t smell much better but I was practicing self-control and keeping it an inside thought.”

Your hand smacks on his back in retaliation, huffy swears echoing throughout the halls but Cassian continues as if you hadn’t done anything at all. Instead, he plops you into a seat at the dining table and instantly the house predicts your needs, providing a spread of food that has your mouth watering and stomach growling.

Before you can even reach for a plate, Cassian’s already washed his hands and come back to pile a plate full of your favorites, swiftly avoiding foods you didn’t enjoy as much as if it were second nature. A brow quirks playfully, form sinking into your seat comfortably. “You gonna help me shower too?”

“Only if my Heiress demands it.” His lips shift into a smirk so sinful you shift in place, fingers just barely recovering from losing your grip on your silverware.

A scoff hides your inability to form words, fork scraping against the fine china as you fill your mouth with much needed sustenance. Immediately, your shitty mood dissipates, hips wiggling in complete bliss while you indulge in garlicy breadsticks dipped in creamy pasta sauce.

“You’ve been training your powers.” Cassian mentions more so to distract himself from the little moans you let you with each bite. “I’ve never seen you manipulate them like that. Blending into Az’s shadows?”

“A girls gotta do something to fill her time.”

Golden eyes narrow in your direction, scanning the curve of your cheeks and slope of your nose. He lingers entirely too long on your mouth, pasta sauce gathering in the corner and his fingers twitch to reach over and wipe it off. “What else are you hiding under your sleeve?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Something about the way you look at him has Cassian’s skin going hot, the pale violet of your iris turning into nothing but a thin ring as your pupils eat up the free space. “And, I’d hate to have to get rid of my favorite boy.”

“I’m your favorite?”

You’re outright teasing; taunting the brick wall of a man with nothing more than polished silver and the insinuating drag of your tongue against your fork. “You think I give invitations to secret parties to any ol’ body? Please, I have better taste than that.”

It’s instinctual. Driven by nothing more than pure Illyrian pride, his chest subconsciously puffing up with pride under the kiss of your compliment. He’s not brave enough to elaborate on it—too afraid to jumble his words and make a godsdamned fool of himself. “Where is this party anyway?”

Silverware clangs against fine china, a signal that you’ve finished your meal and the house is quick when cleaning up for you, fondly topping up your wine and providing fresh linen to dab around your mouth.

You don’t take it.

Instead, you offer up a crimson red ribbon just barely long enough to fully wrap around Cassian’s wrist. It’s smooth like silk in his grasp, the material coated in your scent and it takes every scrap of decency he has left not to shove it up against his nose. “Follow those. Once you’ve collected the last one, you’ll find me.”

“And then what?”

A sultry smirk curves at your mouth as you rise from your chair. “Then, you can have me.” His mouth goes dry, fists closing over the strip of fabric clutched between his fingers. “Have fun hunting, General.”

[sweatyracoon]

Savior with Fins

Notes: credit for the beautiful dividers by @cafekitsune <3

I know this isn't my best but I just really loved the idea

Warnings: language, mentions of drowning, passing out, sharks, angst

You often went fishing on your own. It was one of your favorite pass times, seeing as you grew up on an island.

It was a small but loving community, and you found solace in it's silence.

You never killed something on purpose, always throwing your catches back into the water.

There was a group of guys swarming around the rent a boat business you came to once a week, and you found yourself scoffing when you were placed on a larger rent a boat with the group.

"Sorry, y/n. Your boat is in the shop. A hole was found in the bottom. But this way, it's a lot cheaper for you,"

John said, awkwardly scratching at his nape.

You rolled your eyes, getting on the boat. The guys mostly kept their distance, too busy playing around with their rods, getting the hook stuck in one of their hoods.

They were immature, and extremely loud and lewd.

Ad the boat drifted into deeper territory, they all started shoving one another, making the vessel shake. Your balance faltered, and you nearly dropped your rod into the water.

"Hey! Do you mind? You scared off my catch, you pricks," you yelled at them, pacing towards the blonde haired boy.

"What are you gonna do about it, princess? If you didn't want to have fun, you should have gotten on a different boat,"

You scoffed.

"Fishing is me having fun, asshole. Your the ones preventing me from doing so," you turned, about to stride towards your side of the vessel when suddenly you felt your shoulders caged.

"If you wanna catch fish so bad, go fetch," you heard the voice say behind you.

Suddenly, the strong grip led you towards the edge, a strong shove sending you overboard.

You yelled as you felt the cold water nip at your skin, the tide engulfing you as you thrashed.

Your head bobbed above water, and you heard the sickening laughs of the teens above you.

The boat drifted off, leaving you stranded in the depths of the sea.

It was miles from the island, you wouldn't make it if you attempted swimming.

Still, despicable knowing that, your survival instincts made you swim, struggle with the push of the waves.

You pushed yourself for what felt like hours, your vision blurring as you inhaled salt water, the burn keeping you alert. Your limbs felt as if they were on fire despite the freezing water surrounding you.

You felt your eyes closing against your will, your body stilling as you floated, exhausted. Black was all you saw as you felt your brain turning to mush, a large crash of the sea slamming itself onto your body, pushing you below the surface.

You woke up, startled, coughing aggressively. You felt the water swishing in your lungs. You lunged forward, feeling it creep up your esophagus, spitting it out. The salt made it burn.

After you were done hacking up bits of the sea, your eyes adjusted to your unfamiliar surroundings.

It was almost like a nook, the ones you would see in the movies behind a waterfall. The rocks were moist and glistening, and a soft sound of water hitting water filled your ears. There was also a pit filled with water a few feet from you.

Your clothes were damp, and your back ached from laying on stone. You weren't sure for how long.

Wait. How did you end up here?

You looked around again, noticing no other life than you and a few bugs.

Splash!

You whipped your head back to the body of water, noticing a large fin smacking back down, the stray water hitting your exposed legs.

You got up to sit on your knees, glancing into the water.

What you saw frightened you.

Despite the large tail you just saw, when you peered at the figure, you saw a human-like form.

It was blurry from the waves, but you saw a pale skinned boy with light blonde hair, his figure shaking with the tide. His pale body seemed to end near his waist, the color darkening immediately to a dark gray.

But that wasn't what scared you.

It was his eyes. They glowed yellow underneath the water.

You jolted back when he appeared to be rising to the surface, your breath quickening.

You scuffed your knee against the jagged rocks that made up the ground you sat on. You winced, eyes drifting immediately to your fresh wound.

Your mind was still fuzzy from the pressure of the water and new found pain on your leg that you didn't notice the creature coming out of the water.

"Hey! Careful, you could really do some damage," you heard the voice say.

His voice was deep. And had a thick accent to it, compared to the people in town.

You were so surprised. Surely, his top half looked human, but you didn't expect him to be able to communicate.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked again.

When you finally looked at him, you saw he was plopped at the edge of the rock where it met the water.

There was no shallow parts there, just a straight dive into the deep.

"What?" You were still confused about the whole situation, suddenly wondering if you were dreaming.

"Are you alright? Do you know your name?" His gaze turned into concern, looking around for what? You didn't know.

"I'm fine, I think...I'm y/n," you stutter, suddenly feeling cold.

"Ah. A pretty name. I'm Felix. You look hungry," he observed, bringing his finger out to poke your knee.

You flinched, pulling back.

"Sorry...I've just never seen a person so up close," he muttered, pushing his body back into the water, his head still above the surface.

"You eat fish?" He asked.

"Yes, I do,"

Without another word, he left.

You were stuck in this dome like cave with very little lighting, since the sun was going down. You took it upon yourself to look around, and was surprised to find some dead plants.

You brought it all to one corner, grabbing some jagged rocks. You scraped them together aggressively, and eventually, you had a small fire.

You hoped it would last.

When he came back, there was a torn net holding at least twelve fish, and you chuckled as he hurled himself up the ledge, sighing dramatically.

"Wasn't sure how much people eat so I got extra!" He grinned.

You noticed his sharp, jagged teeth, but for some reason, it didn't bother you as much as it should have.

"What are you?"

It came out before you could stop yourself. It was weighing on your mind for a while, giving you time to ponder while he was gone.

His smile faltered before he hid it quickly.

"I'm a shark," he said simply with a grin, opening the net of fish.

He grabbed a stick next to him before spearing the aquatic animal onto it.

"Are you sure? Sharks don't really...talk?" You took the stick from him, holding it over your small fire.

"I don't know? Me and my friends are all like this. I mean- they aren't sharks, but we can all talk? My dad called us hybrids,"

"Hybrids? So your half human?"

"I think? I mean I kinda look like you, but then the other half doesn't-"

He proceeded to keep handing you fish to cook, and you continued to while speaking with him.

"So your friends? You said they aren't sharks?"

His eyes sparkled at the mentions of his friends, his posture straightening.

"Nope! We're all different. I mean, one is a dolphin, the other is a squid, another a sea horse. We all couldn't be more different."

You nodded.

"So they aren't scared of you? Your a predator hybrid," you say, curious.

His eyes widened.

"Oh god, no! I have never hurt them or anyone. Honestly we're fearful of Minho, but I'm a playful way. He's the dolphin,"

You smile.

"I hear dolphins are the most dangerous animal out there,"

You both laughed.

"You might be right,"

It became silent suddenly, but it was a comfortable silence. The fish we're all cooked, so now you both ate.

"Do you remember how you got here?" Felix asked after cleaning the mess up.

You stilled, forgetting completely that you don't belong here. But he made you so comfortable, it feels like you had known him for years.

"Uhh, I fell off a boat? I was fishing I think." Your brain once again turned into mush.

"Two boys pushed you off the boat, y/n. I was lucky I got to you in time. The currents were harsh."

His eyes filled with sadness, his arm reaching up to rest on your calf.

You looked back at him, gauging his words. You remember yelling at the boys, but not being pushed off.

"I forgot," was all you could say.

"Listen, maybe you need some rest. It was a stressful day, after all. I can take you back to the island in the morning?" He tilted his head, his sharp teeth flicking through his lips.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. What about you?"

"I don't sleep much. I can keep the fire going, and go to find something for you to use on the water. If I don't, you'd probably get hypothermia," he grinned, his fin flicking against the water.

You smiled.

"The fire won't hurt you, will it?"

"No. As long as I get back to the water afterwards," he shrugged, scooting over to tend to the fire. "See?"

"Thank you Felix," you laughed, suddenly feeling insanely tired.

The last thing you saw was a heartwarming smile from him before it went dark.

You woke up to the sound of splashing, and fought the sun to open your eyes.

"Y/n? You ready to go?"

Your eyes Open to a cute, wet Felix. Behind him was a floating piece of wood, one that would be able to carry your weight.

"Yeah,"

He led you onto the platform, gently caressing your waist.

"Comfortable?" He asked, his hands hooked onto the sides.

"Yes, Felix I'm okay," you pat his head, watching his face contort into many emotions.

Confusion, denial, acceptance, enjoyment, happinesses.

He liked it.

"Alright, I'll be under the water this entire time, pulling from a rope okay?"

He almost looked like he didn't want to leave you out of his sight. It was endearing.

Wat you didn't know, however, was that he watched you sleep for hours. Not in a creepy way, but he knew it was cold, and didn't want you getting sick or anything. He admired you and your form. He would kill to have legs, and everything else that you do. Life underwater was harsh, even for him. It didn't matter if he was a shark hybrid or not. His caring and empathetic nature wouldn't let him be the predator he should be.

After making sure you were settled, he led you back home.

It took around thirty five minutes before you saw the big piece of floating land, but when you did, you felt your speed slowing down.

"Felix?" You asked, since he didn't come out of the water yet.

The water here compared to the cave was a lot darker. Why? You didn't know. But you were worried the rope cut loose and he didn't know.

It wasn't until you heard water from behind you that you started to worry.

"Felix. What's wrong? Did the rope snap?" You asked, bring your hand up to his wet hair.

He almost looked as if he were going to cry.

"Are you gonna forget about me, y/n?" He choked.

Your heart nearly broke.

"Of course not, Felix. Why would you think that?" You continued petting his head, watching his eyes roll back.

"You'll never see me again,"

"Woah woah woah. Says who? I can still see you, can't I?" You stop him, cursing yourself.

You hadn't even thought that far ahead.

"How would you? We are two different worlds, y/n,"

His eyes were large and shiny with emotion, making you swoon.

"I fish once a week. When I'm on the boat, you come find me, yeah?"

His eyes lit up suddenly, his demeanor changing.

"Really? You'd let me see you?"

"Of course, Felix. You saved my life!" You both laughed.

His light chuckle filled the air, despite being in the middle of the ocean.

"Alright, let's get you home,"

[naffeclipse]

To Survive Pt. 2

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm back with more cuteness requested by dear @crazedauthor with an orca!reader and orca!Eclipse. Now, the two of you have children, and things are so peaceful after so much grief. A little scare happens when you wake alone, but Eclipse arrives quickly to make it better. Family shenanigans occur.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, and a reader with children.

———

On a crisp, pale morning, you open your eyes to a gentle new dawn. Awareness rushes you like a tide, but it does not drown you. The memory of the night before swishes against you, as soft as sea form, and you smile in your sleepy hazy.

You went to rest upon an ice shelf, carved into the side of a great wall towering pale blue over the Arctic sea, with your mate and children. In the arms of your love and cradling your two babies, one new, one a little grown, you drift into sweet, milky dreams. 

After agonies of loss and isolation, you have found your pod again.

This very home was hollowed out by Eclipse’s hands. Tirelessly, he worked when you both learned you were expecting a child. You’ve never seen him in such excitement. His eyes shone like shards of ice in sunlight and he never slowed a moment until you begged him to come hold you and sleep a while.

Your eyelids flutter, crusted with sleep. Lounging in the bliss of the quiet, you appreciate the stillness for so rarely is all so peaceful. Once the baby came, there were tiny cries little hands grasping, and tiny flukes flipping. Eclipse held the babe in his clawed hands with a tenderness that stirred you with emotions. You fed your little one and whispered promises. Your little pod is safe. Your little pod is whole.

Then the second child came, and now an eager toddler was swimming quickly away around a bend of ice only to be snatched by Eclipse and cooed at in rumbling tones. The baby stayed in your arms when Eclipse wasn’t trying to hold both. Their wriggling bodies combatted his strength and gentleness, and you would laugh.

Sighing gently, you turn over, mindful of your dorsal fin against the frozen floor. 

It’s quiet… Your mind returns to bloody seas and wicked nets tossed by human hands, then silence.

Your palms slide over the emptiness beside you. Bolting upright, your tail slaps against the floor in your alarm with a cool sting. You swivel your head. The dome blue of your home holds no refractions except for the barest light off of your body alone.

Your mate. Your babies. The youngest should be in your arms, mewling for milk. The eldest should have fussed long before the sun rose over the horizon for a playmate. Somewhere between, Eclipse should have kissed your shoulder and asked a question: what fish would you like for your morning meal?

You slept too long. Exhaustion should crawl at your edges and your patience should wear thin as your babies require ever-present attention. Horror crashes upon you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you thrust yourself off the ice shelf and into the icy waters below. Blubber and thick skin keep you safe from shock, but your heart swings against your rib cage and pounds against your sternum. Breathlessly, you intake air. You swim under the entrance and out into the vast expanse of the ocean.

Your pod. Where is your pod?

You cry out over the waves. A rawness invades your throat as Eclipse’s and your babies’ names drag at the vulnerable softness within you. Stinging arises at the corner of your eyes. Opening your arms, you dart back and forth over the entrance to your home. Do you set out to find them quickly or do you stay home should they return by themselves? 

The ringing in your ears peaks and then stops under a familiar echo of your name. Twisting in the waters, far out beyond the wall of ice, is your mate. He bobs above the surface. Brilliant red frills frame his face as his eyes land upon you. In his arms, he cradles your children.

Almost collapsing under the surface, you inhale a tight breath. You force another one through, and another, deepening each inhale and exhale until the constriction around your chest eases. 

The sight of your mate and babies keeps you afloat. 

Eclipse carefully swims and closes the distance between you. The moment he nears, you open your arms for the youngest one. Maffei. Your darling daughter. Her face is round and plump, and what tiny frills adorn her are deep with deep red and orange hues. Her arms are thick with fat rolls. Her tiny fists unfurl, and a squall leaves her in demand for your arms around her.

The eldest, Fornax, excitedly calls for his parent. You answer with reassurance. You are here. You gaze over your child, your lovely son, the firstborn of your pod. He pushes away from his father quickly, showing off the cool tones of his flukes and fin-tips. Eclipse told you he looks so much like, but you see his strength in Fornax’s smile, in the way he swims after a fish though he’s too slow now to catch one.

Eclipse suggested the names you so dearly treasure now. He’s imagined for many years children, and the names he had prepared are perfect for the bundles now wriggling in your arm and swimming around you like a tiny whirlpool. 

Now you both have a family.

“Maffei, Fornax,” you breathe and then hold Eclipse’s gaze. “Where were you?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, love.” He draws himself closer, resting an arm around your waist. You shift until your back rests against his chest. The familiar weight of his chin pressing lightly into your shoulder cools the rising panic within you. “I believed you would sleep longer. Don’t be afraid.”

For several moments, you collect yourself as Eclipse gathers you in his arms. He presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. Looking down at Maffei, she fits perfectly in your arms. She babbles lightly. Little coos rising and falling in musical notes lay a gentle hand over your heart.

Fornax splashes. The cool wave of water hits you gently, causing Maffei to squirm and pout her pink lips.

“Fornax,” Eclipse says in a firm but gentle voice, “Don’t splash your sister.”

“Sorry, papa.” Your son’s tail flicks. A slight sheepishness overtakes him as he drifts up to you and looks down at his little sister in your arms. “Sorry, Maffei.”

“Good boy,” you murmur and bow to press a kiss to his forehead.

He smiles with small, nubby teeth lining his gums before darting away with another ripple. The water crashes against each other. You keep Maffei shielded this time. 

Eclipse rumbles a pleased sound. Looking back down at you, he presses his cheek against your head.

“Are you alright?” he asks in a low rasp.

“Yes.” You crook your finger and softly brush Maffei’s cheek. “I am now.”

“You looked so weary,” Eclipse continues softly. The vibrations in his chest touch your spine. “Last night, you were up so late with Maffei. I meant to return before you awoke. The little ones were so eager to spend energy. It is my duty as your mate and their father to take care of you all.”

He brushes the hair from your forehead softly. You lean deeper into his touch while watching Fornax explore a side of the ice shelf, touching and digging at loose bits of the frigid wall.  

“They are very rambunctious,” you tease and turn back to grin at Eclipse. “Just like you.”

He laughs, deep and hearty. Maffei gives a small cry of complaint. You can smell the faint scent of milk on her. Eclipse coos sweetly.

“Little love, don’t fuss. We’re both here. It’s alright.” Eclipse tenderly strokes Maffei’s head. Seemingly content with the attention, she leans against your chest and settles. Her tiny tail is not yet developed enough for swimming on her own. She requires constant arms to hold her above the surface as her ability to hold her breath grows stronger and stronger.

You turn slowly back to Eclipse. Your heart has grown softer and fonder of your mate since watching him as a father. He is attentive and constant in his efforts to provide for their every need. 

Gently, you press a kiss to Eclipse’s mouth. His eyes, twin flames of burning yellow and red, widen before he returns the gesture with equal fervor. He pushes gently and cradles your mouth with his before releasing you.

“You are a wonderful father,” you speak softly. “You are the most loving mate. And this,” you look at your children, “feels like home.”

Eclipse’s tail flicks underneath you as his body seems to tremble with emotion before he gently presses his forehead to yours.

“How so, my love? Tell me all,” he demands in a rumble.

You take a moment and fall back to days when you were in the shelter of your mother’s arms, and your aunts would sing lullabies to your younger cousins. 

“Babies were held close, and everyone offered a hand,” you recount gently the memories of your childhood, “No one went without.”

You gently tickle Maffei’s chin, and she grabs your finger with her fat little hand. She gives you a searing look. A soft laugh escapes from you. You apologize to her before she returns to settle against your bosom.

“My mother would have loved to hold our babies,” you whisper softly.

“Yes,” Eclipse rumbles low, “My mother would have been pleased to see our children, and she would approve of my mate.”

You flush softly at such a thought, then grow somber within it. Despite all the pain, you are both still here. Your family is beautiful and worth every moment of agony.

Fornax returns but stops short of splashing Maffei. He instead treads slightly to swim around Eclipse, and tug at his arm, begging for a playmate.

A wicked grin spread across Eclipse’s maw.

“My father would play with me often,” he begins, and you eye him suspiciously as he takes Fornax under the arms. “Like this.”

He lifts Fornax above the surface. His body is small and slipstream, and his tail drips heavily back to the sea as he giggles at a high-pitched sound. To your dismay, Eclipse tosses the child over the surface and back into the water with a heavy splash.

“Eclipse!” you shout, aghast. 

Flicking up small waves, Eclipse darts for Fornax and scoops up your not-so-little baby, and he’s laughing. The boy demands relentlessly that Eclipse toss him once more. Thundering in joy, Eclipse obliges. Fornax sails through the air and back into the water with a furious splash. 

“Eclipse,” your voice climbs shrilly. “Stop tossing my son around like a baby seal!”

“I would never allow harm to befall him,” Eclipse promises in a mischievous roll of his tongue. 

“Again! Do it again, papa!” Fornax slaps the water with his hands and his tail cuts through the salty brine.

Then Maffei turns in your arms. Her little eyes fall on her brother and father playing roughly along the surface, and she chortles in a way that reminds you of Eclipse. Her tiny face ignites with delight.

Slowly, with all forces against you, you relax. Fornax beams brightly when he emerges from another tossing. Constantly, Eclipse is calculating, carefully adjusting the throwing of his son and watching him closely to ensure there is no harm done.

Perhaps he might feel your radiating judgment, for Eclipse turns back. He tucks Fornax underneath his arm and drags him back to you despite your son's protests and needing to be thrown once more over the waves. 

He nears, a great grin splitting his maw. You are helpless in returning the gesture in the radiating heat of his joy. His arms surround you, and Fornax is caught in the embrace as well as Maffei. 

Looking down softly over his pod, Eclipse surveys you quietly. Fornax wraps his arms around you in kind. He blows raspberries at his sister who giggles quietly. Their tiny tails squirm against your side, and you feel at peace.

“I will always protect our pod,” he declares, his eyes searing with his intent and truth.

Your heart swells in your chest. Pushing close, you kiss Eclipse sweetly, until the baby fusses and Fornax asks when he can be tossed again.

You will never lose your pod again.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Love and Bounties- Chapter 1

Cowboy! Logan Howlett X F! Reader

The Sun Rises in The East

An ominous presence has arrived to your quiet town

A/N: Oml this came out SO long...Hope you all enjoy! <3

Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, violence- barfights lol, blood and injury descriptions, Logan being a flirty menace, reader is described to have curly hair, probs some history inaccuracies lol bear with me

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1911, Harrodsburg, Kentucky

The sun rises in the east, and sets in the west.

A growing town known as Harrodsburg, resting in between the valleys and hills of the mountains in the East side of the States. A town of agricultural farming and horse trade.  Developing, but not quite having met the qualities of bustling metropolis that its neighbor cities have become. 

It was quiet, and just small enough that everyone almost knew everyone else. The town was a middle ground- a city slipping into the country, a place smack between the old and new century. 

In the distance, an ominous, lone figure perched on a horse observed the small town with keen eyes. A cigar set between his teeth, he puffed on it- a strong taste of earthy smoke filling his tongue. He tipped his cattleman forward over his eyes, the glare of the afternoon sun was bugging him, and he brought his hand down to his chin, scratching his beard thoughtfully as he considered the quaint little town. 

His horse, a beautiful mustang he tamed not too long ago, bobs her head with a swish of her tail. Impatient with her rider as he continued to observe the town below in silence. She was the color of cinnamon- hence, her name. Cinnamon. With a long mane the color of dark chocolate. He took delicate care of her- as a man should, for a creature that carries him for miles and miles of land deserved respect.

He glanced down at her, reaching a gloved hand down to soothe the heifer, a small pat of her head, before petting her mane. He looked back at the town, removing the half finished cigar from his lips and discarding it to the ground.

He tugged at the reins, clicking his tongue as an order and leading her to walk down the path of dirt that led to a muddy road, hoof prints and tracks of wheels belonging to carriages left behind. Soon the trees that surrounded the road began to thin out, and the town came into view- bustling with folks enjoying the sunny day. 

As he reached the outskirts of town, he took notice of the folks around. An old man with graying hair and scars on his face singing an old, sad tune as he shoveled soil into a wheelbarrow. To his right, a tired mother with a young boy and girl, arguing and shoving each other- only to immediately stop as the shadow of the lone cowboy towers over them as he walks by. A group of men smoking on a wooden porch stare him down past the brim of their hats- challenge set in their eyes. 

The townsfolk regarded him with caution.

He was used to it. The judgemental stares as people realize that trouble has come to their little town. They were right.

Trouble was one of many things that this man could be called. He was many things, a cowboy, a gunman, an outlaw, a bounty hunter. He was anything a job called of him to be, if the moneys right. 

He found the saloon- smack in the center of the town. On one side of the bar, hitching posts for folks and their horses and donkeys, opposite to the few automobiles parked along the building.

How modern.

He hopped off of his horse's back, grabbing her reins and tying them to a hitch, encouraging her to drink some water set before her in an old water trough while he began to search the packs hanging off the saddle, noting supplies he needed to pick up. 

Just from the looks of it- he could tell it was one where people look out for one another. One that will put up a fight to protect its own. He knew to tread carefully, not to draw suspicion. Don’t make it obvious what he’s here for.

He happened to look up when he noticed a lone woman walk by. Pretty thing she was. He has an eye for em’; He couldn’t help it.

Bouncy curls that fell past her shoulder, pretty eyes, and pretty lips - soft and delicate. A pretty, flowy dress- a tad scandalous for a woman her age to be wearing, with bare shoulders and an exposed collar that left little to imagination- surely a barmaid, or a woman of the cloth. She carried a crate that he couldn’t see the contents of with both hands, and she was watching him all the same. 

Maybe, he could enjoy some recreational time before he does what he came to do. It had been a long journey after all. 

“See something you like darling?” He calls out in a heavy tone, a small smirk plastered on his face. 

She raised a brow, “Relax cowboy, I was checking out your horse.” She teased, before winking. His smirk faded, turning into something curious. She continued on her path, but Logan didn’t stop watching her until she disappeared from the road. He was fascinated by the bounce of her curls, the swish of her dress as she walked with confidence.  

He shook himself out of her spell, deciding that he’ll track her down later. A smile like that doesn’t just go unforgettable in his mind. First- he needed a drink, and information. 

Once sure that Cinnamon was secured, he made his way up the steps of the saloon, where he could hear raucous laughter and joyful music playing inside. 

It was crowded. Filled with men and women busying themselves with entertainment on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The air was thick with booze and tobacco. Men playing poker, or chatting merrily around tables and bar tops with pretty showgirls sitting on their laps fake laughing at their jokes with their arms hanging around their necks. 

 A few of the patrons took notice. Watching as Logan slithered through the tables and the crowds. Sizing up the stranger, a few whispers spread through the bar as more people took notice. The chatter didn’t stop, but became quieter in his presence. 

He settles down at a lone table in the far corner. He didn’t need more stares, the judgemental looks that he already was met with outside. People were likely already gossiping about this handsome stranger, wondering what had brought him into their quiet town. It wouldn’t be long till the news spread, until someone recognizes him.

He’ll get some dumbass trying to challenge him on the streets, causing all sorts of chaos. Being the man he was, he’ll accept it gladly. 

Click. Aim. Bang.

He settled back in his seat, the old chair groaning against his weight. He let out a tired sigh, reaching into his vest- made of worn leather, with an imprint across it from the bandolier that always sits slung over his chest. 

He pulled out a paper, folded and tucked inside a pocket of the vest and unfolded it carefully. He tuts quietly as he reads it- the bounty he received. Mailed directly to him. Whoever sent it knew where he was that day because he didn’t have a place to stay- a wanderer through cities and towns. 

It was sketchy as hell. It’s not the first time he’s been hired for a job, but normally he gets approached by an actual person looking to talk details about the job- not a courier with a telegram. Some 10 year kid looking terrified to set foot in the bar he was settled in for the day.

A message, addressed to him directly;

It shared details about a woman living in this town, who makes herself a doctor. Her name, and a few discreet details of her looks - not helpful whatsoever, but it isn’t his first rodeo.

JAMES L HOWLETT -(STOP)-

A BOUNTY IS BEING OFFERED TO YOU -(STOP)-

SHOULD YOU ACCEPT AND COMPLETE A PAYMENT WILL BE MADE TO YOU IN AMOUNT OF THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS-(STOP)-

It was sketchy- but the money, lord the money would be enough to settle him for life if he so desired. It would be a long tiring trip, considering he had been in a little town called Jefferson in Texas at the time- over two week trip to the town of Harrodsburg, and will be a similar trip back to the West- which will be a pain in the ass since bounties aren’t typically eager to go with him anywhere. 

Once again, the money- assuming it’s true, and worth it. Too good to pass up. 

He didn’t ask questions about his work, easier that way- couldn’t help but be curious though. What has this woman possibly done to warrant a bounty of three thousand dollars? Furthermore, why pick him to do this job, he was singled out. He may be greedy, but he wasn’t dumb. 

Something has arisen, however it doesn’t matter as long as he gets that cash in hand. 

“Would you like something to drink, stranger?” 

He looked up from the paper, a waitress stood there with a big smile, blonde curls, and piercing blue eyes, which trailed over his handsome face. Pretty hazel eyes, strong jaw, and sculpted nose. He was used to the looks, he knew he was a handsome man. Never really paid mind to it though, unless he found something pretty and willing. 

He took a deep inhale. “Bourbon.” He says leaning forward on the table. She nods a playful tilt of her head as she gives him another pleasant grin- which unnerved him a bit, walking away back to the counter. He turned his attention elsewhere, not noticing her leaning over and whispering something to another man seated at the bar who was nursing a glass of whiskey. 

He folded the telegram back up, sticking it back in his vest before dropping an arm on top of his lonely table, tapping his fingers rhythmically along the wood as he turned to observe the windows- shutters pulled shut but streams of light still came through the cracks of the wood- where he could see the hazy dust and smoke floating around the air.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the man at the bar counter had stood up, making his way towards him. 

“You!” 

Logan turned his head, an impassive expression on his face as he queried a brow. 

“I know who you are.” The man slurs. “Get out of here!” 

Logan tilted his head, a smirk growing on his face as he sensed a fight would happen- just not so soon. Suppose he’s becoming more and more infamous every day.

He’s gained a reputation in his years. Countless jobs, missions, and confrontations. He’s got posters of his face going from the west to the east of the states- even stretching into Canada and Mexico. He’s overheard people telling his stories- A heist of a train traveling through multiple states, a quickdraw duel with a mayor, and the time he pitted two gangs against each other- to be the only one standing after the dust settled. 

He’s a busy man.

“No, I don’t think you know who I am bub.” Logan leaned forward. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.” 

“You’re a bad man.” He sneers. “A killer, a thief-!”

“Go sleep it off pal.” Logan warns, his smirking fading into a scowl. “Before you do something you regret.” 

“I’lll make you regret ever coming here-” He lunges after Logan, who stood up from his chair - a loud crash as both the chair and table fall to the ground. 

“That's the best you got you drunk asshole?” Logan taunts as he dodges a punch- only to be tackled immediately after. 

The patrons of the bar begin yelling, a few whooping and cheering.

The struggle ensued, as the drunken accuser pushes Logan into the shutters, breaking them open as Logan’s is nearly pushed out the window- startling an old woman as she was walking by. He's pulled back in, and a punch is landed across his face. 

He fights back, punching his attacker back- and knocking him out clean to the floor. By then, chaos has erupted throughout the bar- as most men, drunk on booze have taken this as their sign to fight their buddy next to them. Multiple men gang up on Logan- defending their KO'd brother on the floor.

Logan- no stranger to fight held himself steady. Using various tools at his disposal, he broke a chair over one man's back, and tossed the other over the bar counter. The angelic waitress from earlier screams and jumps onto Logan's back, hitting on his chest and shoulders in a febrile attempt to injure him.

“Get off me lady!” Logan shouts, attempting to shake her off, until another woman comes over and begins a cat fight with the waitress as she tears her off Logan's back. 

Bottles are thrown across the bar, crashing against the wall. Logan attempts to make a quick exit alongside one wall, avoiding the two men fistfighting each other. A knife was thrown, slamming into the wall inches away from Logan's face, as he watched with wide eyes, the handle vibrate from the recoil. 

He ducked under the knife, pushing past two more drunken men, who fell to the ground wrestling each other. He caught the words of one of them accusing his enemy of sleeping with his mother. Yikes.

Logan nearly made his escape- except the drunk from earlier, who started the whole thing had woken up not long after being knocked out and trailed Logan through the bar, grabbing the knife that was stuck in the wall. 

“Asshole!” Logan heard him yell, and turned just as the knife came down, slicing down his arm, where red began to bleed through the cut, quickly soaking through the white sleeve of his shirt. Logan hissed from the pain, jumping back- just when several men barged in- one grabbing Logan and pulling him back out into the bright sun and fresh air. 

“Can’t go one goddamn day without a fight breaking out around here.” The stranger mutters under his breath as he helps the slightly disoriented cowboy down the porch of the saloon. “Christ, your arm okay pal?” 

“S’It look okay?” Logan sneered, his hand moving up to apply pressure to it, hissing at the stinging sensation through gritted teeth. He’s had worse, but damn it hurts. 

“Just trying to help. You should see the doc.” 

He was begrudgingly dragged to the so-called doctors house. Forced to walk through streets until reaching an empty road where a lone house stood tall, surrounded by trees and wildflowers. A small garden growing various vegetables sat in front- and he spotted a small pen nearby, where he heard the bleating of goats. 

Nice place.

Logan- distracted from the pain in his arm- and grumpy he never got his drink and got a fight and a slash to the arm instead- ruining a perfectly good shirt by the way, didn’t put two and two together right away when he arrived. 

“Doc!” The stranger calls out to the house as they approach it- a man who introduced himself as Oliver; not as tall as Logan, with short brown hair and clean shaven face and adorning suspenders. Oliver was rambling as they made their way to the doctors house- which Logan tuned out for the most part. Only picking up that the doctor was sweet, and a bit quirky as some people say. Not traditional in a sense.

He opens the screen door to the house without knocking, holding it open for Logan. “Doc? Got some work for you.” He calls out into the house as he steps inside after Logan.

“I don’t need a doctor pal, I’m fine.” Logan mutters, leaning against a small table by the door and removing his hand to observe the bloody wound. Oliver grits his teeth, sucking air through them as he put his hands on his hips, pointing to the arm and shaking his head

“Ya gonna lose that arm to uh…What they call it…”

“Sepsis.” 

A woman's voice made them raise both their heads. 

You leaned against the frame of the archway that led into your living room, a wet rag in hand as you just finished cleaning your kitchen- in which you had been thinking about how happy you were to finally have a quiet Saturday;

Of course good things never last long.

You tilted your head and you smiled, observing the two men standing in your foyer. 

“Whatchu bring me now Oli?” You straightened yourself, walking over to Oliver and the injured man- the tall, handsome one you saw earlier who had clearly been mentally undressing you when he saw you walk by. He had a dangerous look about him, and looks like you were right.

Logan stared at you in surprise, wide eyed and lips slightly parted. You would have thought he just fell in love by the way he stared at you. Logan's eyes trailed down your body, still in the pretty dress you still had on from earlier. Now that he’s got a closer look at you, you are definitely a beaut, heavenly in the way the light from the windows of your home glows with sunlight around you. He didn’t think when he saw you earlier that you’d be a doctor of all things. 

“Another casualty of Morgan's Saloon.” Oliver smiles, a certain shine in his eyes that Logan noticed Oliver has when he looks at you. “I guarantee you, there’s going to be more heading here soon.”

“Figures.” You scoffed, shaking your head, you stepped past Oliver, placing your hand on Logan's shoulder as you observed the cut. “Ouch! How did this happen mister…” 

“Call me Logan.” He gives you a charming smile, leaning closer to you, hand coming up to tip his hat respectfully.  

“Logan.” You raised an eyebrow, now putting your hands on your hips, tipping your chin back as you look up at him with a playful expression. “What happened at the saloon?”

“What always happens.” He smirked. “The arm’s fine darling, no need to fuss over me- much as I ‘preciate the attention of pretty woman like you.” 

“How about you let me decide if your arm is okay.” You say sweetly, waving for him to stand up.

“Need me for anything?” Oliver asks you, you shook your head- the curls of your hair bouncing with your movements, politely waving him off.

“No, just make sure no one killed each other back there.” You muttered, shaking your head, as you began to lead Logan through your home and into your kitchen. 

Pulling out a chair from your kitchen table, you pat it and motioned for Logan to sit who obliges, taking off his cattleman hat and setting it on the table.

“You mind taking off your vest and shirt so I could get a better look?” You ask as you walk across the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out small containers filled with medicine, bandages, and more and setting them onto the table behind Logan. 

“Any excuse to see me shirtless, huh?” He asks in a coy tone, turning his head to the side, a playful grin on his face as his eyes watched you busy yourself around the kitchen.

You froze, rolling your eyes at his flirtation and not responding to it. It’s a common interaction with most men brought to your home. You however, were more concerned to make sure he doesn’t bleed out or die of sepsis inside your kitchen that you just cleaned. You went to another cabinet and pulled out a glass and some liquor, setting it aside, before stopping to put your hair back, going to wash your hands in the sink- while also filling a bowl with water and clean rags. 

Logan looked forward again, and began working on shedding his bandolier, vest, and shirt- now ruined with blood. He groaned a bit, the feeling of the discarded cloth wasn’t pleasant against his wound. He discarded them to the floor and sighs as he settled into the chair. You walked to his side, holding out a glass of whiskey. He looked at it, then you.

“Well, thank you sweetheart.” He purrs, happily taking the glass from your hand. He does a small toast to you, before sipping it- savoring the burn of the liquor on his tongue- finally getting that drink he hadn’t stopped thinking about since he’s arrived in this town.

“You’ll need it.” You hummed, as you walked around him, grabbing another chair to sit on as you grabbed the wet rag from the bowl, squeezing out the excess water and you began to gently wash the blood away. He flinched from the cold temperature of the water. “Sorry,” You smiled apologetically to him. “It’ll take too long to warm it up.” 

“I can take it.” He mutters, looking down at his drink, before taking another swig. It was silent as you worked to clean him up, observing the long cut down his bicep to his elbow. Meanwhile, he observed your house. Nice, pretty- definitely a sign of a lived-in woman. “So, doc, how a girl like you get into a business like this?” 

“Mm. Long story.” You say. “I like helping people, is the short of it.”

“You don’t look like a doctor.” 

You tipped your head up at him. “Yeah? and what should I look like?” 

He glanced at you, realizing he was digging himself a grave by the challenge in your eye. “Mm, I don’t know.”

“No no, clearly you have some notions of what a doctor should look like…Share it with me.” You encourage, with a playful tone in your voice as you resume cleaning his arm. 

“Nah, I don’t think I will.” He grinned, shaking his head. “I suppose I just uh…” He looked at you, his voice turning low. “Never seen a lady so beautiful, be a doctor, of all things before.” 

“Mmhm.” You barely respond, not wanting to fuel his attempt to flirt.

“Some lucky guy make an honest woman out of you?” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “No...” You tittered. 

“Shame. Dame like you should have someone taking care of you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I can take care of myself.” You retort, tipping your chin up at him. He smirked. 

“Yeah…” His eyes trailed down, not being very discreet as he checked you out. “Ain’t nothing wrong with being taken care of though, sweetheart. Look at what a nice thing you’re doing for me.”

“This nice thing is my job.” You raised your brows at him. “I took an oath when I became a doctor. Do no harm, help anyone to the best of my ability.”

“Yeah…” His smirk slowly faded. “So you like helping people huh?” 

You were silent, as you thought about what he said, playing back old memories. Patting his arm dry with a new clean rag, giving you a clear view of the cut on his arm. You nodded. “Yes. I do.” You were sincere in your tone.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He had a more serious look, something thoughtful. Like he was considering your words. 

“Well, you don’t need stitches.. That's the good news!” You set back, looking away to break the building tension. “I’ll just clean it out, wrap your arm up and you’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks doc.” He turned his head away from you, his finger tapping along the glass. You took the chance to observe his face. 

No, you couldn’t deny he was quite handsome. He had pretty eyes, and a nice deep voice that sounded like honey and whiskey to your ears. Clearly a brute creature, but at least he was respectful enough to you.

“You get into a lot of fights Logan?” You asked. He looked at you again, and you motioned with your hand the various scars along his body. He looked down at what you were pointing at. You didn’t need him to tell you though, you were able to tell the moment you laid eyes on him outside the saloon. He was a wanderer- a cowboy. Every scar told a story. 

It should sway you, it’s clear he’s dangerous. He had a revolver on his holster- inches away from your knee. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him though. 

“It happens.” He says with a shrug, finishing off his whiskey. “Misunderstandings.” 

“Yeah? What do you do to cause so many misunderstandings?” 

He looked at you, expecting to find judgement, something critical, in your eyes. Yet you looked at him with no judgement- no, he saw something more unfamiliar in your expression. Kindness.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He says gently. 

You nodded, and returned to his arm- grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and cotton rag and began applying it to the large cut. He let out a hissing noise, wincing from the sting and turning his head away. 

“Damn that smarts.” He grunts, gritting his teeth and shaking his head.

“Sorry. That’s why I gave you a drink.” You continued to thoroughly apply the antiseptic to the injury. “You’ll want to keep this clean- don’t be swimming in any rivers or lakes. Have a doctor check up on it in a few days- make sure there’s no infection and I’m serious- you don’t want to lose that arm.”

He hummed. “Got it.” 

You gently lifted his arm up, informing him to hold it up while you began to wrap it gently with a bandage roll. 

“So do you uh, work out of your house?” He asks. You nodded. 

“People are more comfortable that way I feel.” You say. “Lot of the time when you’re sick you don’t want to sit in a room filled with needles and scary looking chairs and all. The only issue is the occasional need for surgery, injuries worse than yours, I need a sterile field, infections run rampant enough already. I have a room down the hall for that if needed, which fortunately isn’t often, but with all the farms around here- stuff happens with the machinery.”

Logan listened intently, his eyes observing the kitchen before he glanced down at the vest he left on the floor- which occurred to him. A woman, and a doctor, sitting right next to him. 

Logan wasn’t a good man. This felt completely shitty though. 

“So, what’s your name darling? Don’t think I caught it” He asks casually.

You told him your name, not noticing the way his eyes darted over to you, staring you down with intensity- if you had looked at him right then, you would have seen a flash of guilt. His eyes darted away before you could see it. 

“Pretty name.” 

You shook your head with a smile, “Thank you, Logan.” 

Money’s money.

He turned his head fully to look at you. You felt tension return between you. Logan's eyes seemed to pierce through you, and you were hypnotized by them. You cleared your throat, standing up and pulling off your gloves- sticking them into the bowl of dirty water- which you’ll clean and sanitize later. 

“You’re all set.” You inform him, smoothing out your dress as you speak. “Do you need anything for the pain?” 

“Another glass of whiskey will do just fine.” He grumbles looking away.

You let out a small laugh and nodded, walking around him, the heel of your boots clipping on the hardwood as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey- and topped off his glass as he held it up to you. 

“You look tired Logan.” You say as you set the bottle down. “Why don’t you get some rest? You can lie down on the couch, I have a bedroom as well if you’d like some privacy and something more comfortable?” 

“I’m alright.” He stands up, and you see his muscular figure. Trailing from his Adams apple, down to his chest and stomach, brawny, hairy, he clearly was strong and you could appreciate that as a woman and a doctor.

You hadn’t paid much attention to it earlier, seeing he was a patient and you were focused on taking care of the wound first. Now that he was okay, you could certainly appreciate the specimen before you. It bloomed a heat in your cheeks and you looked away, suppressing a bashful smile. 

“Mind if I use the bathroom?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You nodded, you walked across the kitchen with him following- and you pointed down a small hall. “The door on the far right.” 

“Thanks darling.” He says, a charming smile shot your way as he walked past you. Your eyes glanced down to his pants, heavy with a holster resting over on his hip. The revolver you weren’t looking at though.

Nice ass!

You blinked at the thought, shaking your head as you walked back to the kitchen, beginning to clean up, grabbing the items that Logan carelessly discarded to the floor when he came into your kitchen.

A slip of paper fell out between the clothing items, and you reached down to grab it. It had unfolded when it slipped out of the vest, a paper that looked like a telegram.

You aren’t nosy, really, but a quick glance and you noticed something familiar between the printed words. You read it as you stood up- and your stomach sank with your blood running cold. You read the telegram message- addressed directly to him, with details of you, your job, your home. 

Three thousand dollars?!

This man was here for you- and acted like a flirt, a friend, to your face. You left the door open for anyone no matter the danger, always able to handle yourself, a handsy drunk, a hysterical child- you’ve seen it all. 

A bounty hunter?

He’s in your home, alone, with you. You weren’t sure how you could get out of this one.

You didn't hear him behind you as you stared at the paper dictating your inevitable kidnapping. 

“Well, look at what you found, sweetheart.”

You turn around, jumping at the sound of his voice. You clenched the paper in your hand as you stepped back from him, feeling like there was a frog in your throat. 

His expression was serious. You didn’t see remorse, guilt, nothing and that pissed you off more than scared you. He sighed, reaching to grab his shirt, observing the cut and blood-stained cloth, and clicking his tongue, before pulling it back on. Then grabbing his vest.

You watched him as he dressed himself, nervously looking back where your backdoor was- calculating how far you could get from him, find a weapon perhaps. Your eyes glanced down at the revolver on his hip. 

Realistically, you’re fucked.

You watched him pull the bandolier over his shoulder, and then grabbed his hat, before he looked at you with an unimpressed expression. “Well darling. How is this going to play out?” 

You press your lips together, straightening your shoulder and holding your head high. “Surely you don’t think you could just kidnap me, with as many people around here as there are. What, you’re just going to sling me over your shoulder, shoot your way back into town on your horse and carry me off to god knows where?”

[gremlin-girly]

Fic title: The sound of the sea (you know…?😏😏)

Oh Sydney now I wonder who l should make this about👀

The Sound of the Sea

Pairing: Bucky x sirenf!reader

Tags/warnings: nudity, meetcute, no smut

A/N: Sun, Sea and Sirens coded? Yup. I never had a Bucky fic for that planned as I was too focused on ... well, all of the fics and a secret fairy option 🥴🤭

Bucky had missed the sound of the sea.

He was grateful that Sam had let him borrow his family's boat for a few nights to escape the humdrum of Louisiana hospitality.

Waves crashed gently against the bow, rocking the boat to and fro. Bucky remembered being on the boat to England when he got drafted; the weather was worse and he was trapped in a giant metal ship crammed with hundreds of others, puking their guts up and missing home. He'd been missing Steve, his mom and his sister.

That had been lifetimes ago.

Bucky took a swig of beer and looked to the stars. The night was clear so they sparkled against the black of the sky like twinkling lights. He mapped Orion's Belt and the Little and Big Dippers, tracing them with his left hand.

"Fly me to the moon,

Let me play amongst the stars."

The singing caught him off guard and Bucky patted his pockets for his phone. He couldn't remember liking such a serene version of Sinatra's famous song but then again, he wasn't the best with technology.

"Let me see what spring is like,

On Jupiter or Mars."

There's a splash in the water beyond the boat and Bucky wants to face palm. His phone isn't playing anything and he is anchored. Someone is probably swimming around the boat.

Although, this far out?

Bucky's instincts take over. He wasn't prepared for much of a fight but he stalks around the boat, peering to find a dingy or the woman singing but finds nothing.

Then at the other end of the boat, the singing continues;

"In other words hold my hand,

In other words, baby, kiss me."

Bucky dives to the other end of the boat, heart frantic. No one's there.

"Hey!" He calls to the darkness. "I know you're out there!"

There's silence for a moment and then he sees a shape emerge from the water about five feet away from him and he flicks on his phone torch. A woman squints back at him.

Her shoulders are bare, so no tactical gear from the torso up and she doesn't have any SCUBA kit on. She's a civilian.

He sighs. "What are you doing out here?"

"What are you doing out here?" She throws back. "I thought this boat was empty."

"It's not, clearly." Bucky huffs but then his face softens into a smile. "Was that you? Singing?"

The woman smiles back, bobbing in the water. "Well, unless you see anyone else around here. Then yes."

"It was beautiful." He swallows, suddenly acutely aware that there was a gorgeous woman in the water before him. "Sorry for interrupting. I just - you-"

"Scared you?" She chuckles and Bucky can feel his face heat up.

"Now, I wouldn't say scare. More like startle." He counters, leaning his arms onto the side of the boat. "But I'll ask again; what are you doing all the way out here?"

"What does it look like?" She asks playfully, leaning onto the water, exposing her bare chest. Bucky chokes on a swig of beer and hurriedly turns around. She sighs with a smile looking up at the stars. "Swimming and stargazing."

"Right." Bucky grits taking a large gulp of beer.

"Do you like stargazing?" She asks, the swish of water echo up the sides of the boat.

"Yeah. I was about the find Ursa Major before I heard your singing."

She hums and Bucky can feel himself relax against the side of the boat, slumping slightly. He places back towards the sky, the stars wink back.

"Sorry." She says quietly. "I thought the boat was empty."

"So you've said." He chuckles. "Don't apologise, it's alright."

"Do you mind if I... stay a while?" She asks almost sheepishly, and Bucky can hear her arms spreading the water as she moves closer to the boat. "I like coming out here to look at the stars."

Bucky takes a cautionary glance down at her in the sea. Her gaze is excitable and pleading. God, he can't say no. His heart thunders.

"Sure. Um, you wanna come aboard?" He points to the rear of the boat. "I have beer and some water if you want a rest from swimming."

She laughs again; another beautiful sound. "I'm naked so if you have any blankets, sure."

Bucky blushes hard but forces himself to nod. Soon enough, the mystery swimmer is sat on the boat, drying herself off before clinking a beer with Bucky wearing the scratchiest blanket known to man.

They spend the night pointing to the sky, discussing the different constellations and planets. Bucky has never felt more at ease around this stranger and he wonders whether he would see her again.

When he asks, she smiles.

"There's an observatory that you can see planets that are even further than the human eye or an average telescope." He blunders, trying not to trip over his words. "I... would like to take you if youve not been."

"I would like to go." She says and then looks disheartened. "But how far away is it? How close to the water?"

Buckh blinks at the odd questions and shakes his head. "I don't know. I'd have to check Boogle or whatever."

"Boogle?" She frowns and shakes her head. "Who the hell is Boogle?"

Bucky laughs awkwardly. She's so cute and he's trying so hard not to mess this - albeit very strange - encounter up. "It's a, um, search engine thingy. I think I've said it wrong. Look, um, if I could get your number we could text about it?"

It was a ham-fisted attempt and Bucky inwardly groans at himself but the stranger grins, rattling off her number as he types it into his contacts and offers her name because he'd been too excited to ask.

He can't remember when he fell asleep, or when the mystery woman had put her blanket over him, and was half convinced it had been a dream when he woke up alone in the middle of the ocean. Until he found a sweet note thanking him for the beer and company.

He smiled to himself as he headed back towards the shore. He couldn't wait to rub this in Sam's face. Or learn more about his mystery ocean woman.

[clubsoft]

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⠀ ⠀ BLUSH ⠀ ⠀ JAVIER PEÑA / F ! OC

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entry no . 1 · astrid && the ocean silk .

summary · javier untangles a ribbon . content · body guard ! javi / nod 2 a slight age gap if u squint - javi has a few years on her but it's not huge / pining on javi's end / thoughts of eating pussy / near death experience but its fun :3 / if there's typos no there's not word count · 986 index · entry list / no . 2 notes · i'm finally reading veil again n needless to say ive been inspired <3

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“Blue or baby pink? For reference, I’m wearing pearls in my hair,” Astrid chirps, framed tinily in the arched doorway of her rococo wardrobe, a dress of each color held at her sides. Her bare soles are against the marble floors, obsidian waves, windblown just so, blur her silhouette to the waist, resembling a fairy with her wings at ease, soliciting the opinion of — “Javi?”

Him? 

Spellbound, Javier peers through his lashes, captive in the fog of a daydream — one out of which the princess’s figure emerges. The sugary cadence of her voice severs him from his daze, and he lifts his chin off of his collar to straighten his spine. The faint, lambent glimpse of his heart beneath the symbolic armor of knighthood evaporates. Three days, fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and his god-forsaken, amorous appetite has proven itself to be of the utmost abstrusity — a liability to his work.

Fuck. Javier curses the primitive urges of men, growing like weeds from the gaps in his practiced composure. A man's weary eyes befall a youthful woman of beauty, contort the expectations of formality that ground him, and twist the rigid, arrow-straight wire to mimic the flare of her hips, inviting his ruin. A hell of his own volition in consequence of neglecting his nature. In part, the fault is hers. If she was a thread short of divine, this war inside him would cease to exist. As is reality, she's anything but, and in a characteristically empyrean manner, she appears in his dreams, an outline becoming whole with each heavy blink, a picture of temptation — he feeds her fruit, licks her saliva from his fingertips. He delves below her skirt, between creamy thighs, doesn't come up for air until he's soaked nose-down, his beard dripping slick and spit galore, his name on her lips, a mantra, Javi, Javi, " — okay, Javi?"

She's calling his name. Imbécil.

"Yes, princess?" He speaks, then swallows hard. "Yes, I'm okay."

"Oh — great!" Astrid exclaims ungainly, her brown eyes flickering about aimlessly. To Javier's confusion, she seems to be hand-plucking her words, as though her response requires effort, when the question posed had been so simple. "I was asking about the dress?" She directs her finger towards the silky fabric of the blue gown, grinning sheepishly. It's held against her chest, giving the impression of being worn. With her pitch-black tresses dancing in the light, her frame draped in cloth cut from the midday ocean, she looks nothing short of a Botticelli. Beautiful. Enchantingly so. "Is this color okay?"

His Adam's apple bobs again, but glory be, his voice flows smoother this time, "Yes. Perfect." He has no time to chide himself for his choice of words, her full, plush lips forming a grin that acquits him.

"Perfect?" Heartened, Astrid flutters away, deeper into her infinite collection of garments, out of sight. "I'm going to properly try it on, then!"

She's at too much of a distance for Javier to hear the swish of silk, and he's grateful, the beat of silence much needed as he strives to regain himself. Minutes pass, one — two — seven. How long does it take to pull on a dress? The answer evades him; he’s only ever taken them off, and that doesn’t take long at all. He thinks to call out, but what would he say if his uneasiness was unfounded? He scowls. How insolent of him to believe she'd return to show him, to seek his approval, to generously provide a second glimpse of herself.

Abruptly, an ugly, stuttering series of gasps derails his train of thought, propelling him into motion faster than his brain can keep up. If the jagged sound wasn't enough to affirm his worries, the sight before him certainly was.

The material envelopes her body erroneously, ill-fitted — the least of his priorities, for Astrid bumbles in place, her mien a painful, inflamed pink. A strip of cloth enlaces her neck, constricting her airflow. With one hand clawing at her throat, her eyes protruding in fear, she uses the other to grasp at the space separating them, gagging out his name, Ja — vi.

"Jesus, Astrid!" Javier can't reach her any quicker, cradling her jaw to detangle the ribbon from her throat, his palm skating to her nape to keep her upright as she swallows large mouthfuls of air, the color returning to her face, her cheeks stained a rosy hue. "Are you okay? What happened?" Urgency laced in his tone, it's jarring when Astrid begins to giggle, nodding, her hair shrouding her face. "Please! That wasn't funny, you could've died had I not — "

"But — you did, Javi! I was — just trying on — the dress, it — was a bit too small and — when I tried to — adjust it, that happened. How — comedic!" For a second time, she’s breathless, words mangled amidst her fit of laughter. Javier's cheekbones glow warm, pouty lips becoming ever the more prominent with a puff of air. 

“If you’re only going to laugh at me, I’ll think better of saving you next time,” he grumbles out, mindlessly trailing his touch lower to the dip of her back. 

“If you don’t save me, who will?” Astrid answers him with a whimsical smile. Javier grunts once more. She’s repossessed her balance, dainty digits flicking soft raven tufts back into place, yet she remains within the compass of his arms. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? Let me see.” Their closeness allows him to examine her swanlike neck, her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tipping her head one way or the other. No bruises, no scrapes, just delicious flesh that belongs under his teeth — Fuck. “Everything looks fine to me, but it would be smart to contact the physician. Better safe than sorry.” Air caught in his lungs, Javi turns, ignoring her protests as he beelines it out of the closet. 

It isn’t until he’s in the hallway that he breathes again. 

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taglist · @days1 / @hopelessromantic727 / @zelena89 / @ithinkimokeei / @choania / @qtmoonies / @illyrianbrat / @lovetoloveyoubaby / @dontlookatme121 / @gothcsz / @mandaloriankait / @almostempty / @lilacspider / @akotafi / @itwasntimethatdidit40 / @newsfl6sh / @letsgobarbs if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my fics , pls click this link && fill out the form !! u will be added immediately && get a notif for my next fic !!

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[bitterbutblue]

jane doe toxic? <3

bam yang gang ☆ jane doe x fem!reader

~ As you were leaving, you said to me "You always want far too much If even for a moment, I look away from you It’s like my mind ignites into flames." I hold back the tears about to flow Struggling to suppress the words I longed to share With just a single "Yes, I’m sorry" I closed the chapter on the days we spent together - bibi, bam yang gang ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

She grips tightly at the door, bag in hand and your sobs by her side.

"Don't make this harder than it should be."

Her voice is cold enough for you to cease your sobs for just a second because how is she so cruel about all this? Was your love just a fucking joke to her? Was your pain just a simple toy she finds herself able to throw around for fun? Something she can toss aside when she's sick of it?

"Why?"

"You know I can't do this."

"Why the fuck not?"

"God- FUCK!"

Her sudden outburst had you flinching slightly. Her cheeks reddened from anger as her tail swishes, irritated, from this whole dispute. She had always appeared so loving and caring, always looking out for you and always putting you before herself so why this? Why now? Why now with the ring stored away in your bottom drawer in your bedside table does she suddenly want to pack and leave?

"You're too much. You're so much, all the fucking time."

"Oh bullshit!" You cry, throwing the nearest thing, which just so happened to be a box of tissues, at her. She just lets it hit her chest defeatedly, watching you pick up random items like couch cushions or plastic figures from the shelves and hurling it at her and she lets each item hit her. She lets you take our your frustrations on her until you've run out of items and you just sink into the ground. You let yourself melt into the ground, becoming like a statue frozen in time- a memory forever engrained into Jane's memory. You stay in that state, perhaps not physically, but for a long time after.

"I've never fucking asked you for anything, Jane." You say through gritted teeth, your anger now growing. It's like a starving beast, willing to take anything as a excuse to fuel itself. Eating up even crumbs or specks of words to fuel this hatred to block out the searing pain, to block out the way she carves your heart out. Not even methodically- just messily. She does it with a rusted dagger, blunt.

"You ask me all the time-"

"I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME."

Silence rings throughout the apartment again as Jane's eyes darken, yous see the way her throat bobbed as she takes a deep breath in. She looks away.

The fucking coward looks away.

"Well I can't give you that."

"Why the hell not?"

"You- you ask-"

"Don't you fucking say I ask too much of you." You're seething now "Tell me, when have I ever asked you to love me more? I love the way you love me, I never complain about you not loving me in love or not- not loving in the conventional way."

Jane is silent as she stares at you. You've stood up now, knees shaky and you feel like you'll fall over any second but you still stand. You still push yourself up to look at her in the eyes.

"Tell me, Jane."

She loves you.

She really does.

But she can't.

They'll find you.

"You always ask me for too much." Is all she says, before she turns. You scream at her, you want to throw yourself at her but you want to punch her at the same time. You yell curses at her, how you wished you had never given her the chance. How you just want her to love you, how you don't even ask for much and she's just being so selfish but she's gone. The door had already closed before you could even tell her a proper goodbye.

Is this the end of your story? This the chapter you close now, the story of you two coming to an end on a Friday night in your apartment with you sobbing on the kitchen floor for the rest of the knight as your favourite melody to share with her becomes a reminder of a cruel ending.

"As you were leaving you turned around and said to me "You always want far too much" No what I’ve always wanted was one thing Just one thing sweet chestnut red bean jelly"

[bullet-prooflove]

Blood: Jack Abbot x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @ilariyalavorowrites @spooky-librarian-ghost @wtfc-huh

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

You’ve got blood in your hair. Jack can see that vibrant streak of crimson everytime your ponytail swishes from side to side, taunting him like some sort of heinous reminder that three hours ago he thought you’d been shot to death.

“As soon as we get home, I’m washing your hair.” He tells you tugging the bottom of the ponytail lightly. The scent of cordite washes over him still clinging to your skin, another reminder of how close you came. “In fact I’m washing every inch of you.”

“I don’t know it that’s a threat or a promise.” You tell him, the left side of your mouth quirking up into a smile.

“Maybe a little bit of both.” He says shrugging his shoulders as he steps away to greet the fresh intake from triage.

“I love you but you’re nuts.” You call after him.

“You love me because I’m nuts.” He returns, tapping his temple before he hurls himself straight back into work.

You’re exhausted by the time you make it back to the apartment, bone achingly tired. The weight of the day starts to press down on you but as promised Jack herds you into the bathroom, turning the shower on before he helps you undress. You’re compliant, rising your arms above your head as he strips off your shirt, stepping out of your trousers when he draws them down your hips, placing a gentle kiss on your pussy before rising to his feet.

He reaches behind you, unfastening your ponytail and your hair cascades across your features, that streak of red flashing amongst the strands. He ushers you underneath the water, his hands running through your hair, tipping your head back under the stream. The crimson leaks out, streaking down your body over the bruises he didn’t realise were there before.

“Turn around.” He says, his voice raw as he surveys them. “I’ll shampoo your hair.”

The scent of shea butter fills the shower, a soothing relaxing scent compounded by the sensatiion of his hands running through your hair, massaging your scalp with his. He can feel the tension of the day starting to ebb out of your body as he rinses the shampoo out before following the same procedure with the conditioner.

“I need you to fuck me Jack.” You say as the suds disappear down the plughole. “I need you to make me feel anything other than this emptiness right now.”

“Not here.” He whispers, his lips dragging up along the curve of your throat. “The kind of things I wanna do might land us both back in the E.D if we do them here.”

But your patience is thin, you don’t want to take your time. He barely gets to the edge of the bed before you’re in his lap, sinking down onto him.

“Fuck Faye.” He murmurs but your palm is already on the centre of his chest forcing him down onto the mattress. You don’t take control often but he can sense you need it now in the aftermath of everything that’s happened today.

So he does the one thing he’s never done before, he takes your hand and he places it in his throat.

“If you need this Faye, I will give it to you willingly.” He tells you, tightening your grip on his neck. “If you’ve gotta to hold my life in your hands to get what you need then I’m game honey.”

“You’re sure?” You whisper, your thumb tracing over his jugular where you can feel his pulse thudding underneath.

“I can take it.” He promises you, his whiskey coloured gaze fixed on yours. “Do your worst honey, I’m all yours.”

It starts with a gentle experimental squeeze as you straddle his hips, enough to pin him to the bed as you rise and fall on his cock. The more comfortable you get, the more pressure you apply, intensifying the pleasure that erupts through his nerve endings. His hips arch compulsively, chasing the high that comes with each gasp of breath until stars start to dance across his vision, the ecstasy surging up so quickly it hits him like a freight train, barrelling through his senses, obliterating his thoughts.

He bites his lip when he comes, copper staining his tongue as you clench around his cock, milking every last drop from his dick until he’s oversensitive and overwrought. Your hand shifts from his throat, thumb trailing across the line of his jaw as you look down at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

“Good boy.” You whisper before you lean over and press a tender kiss to his lips and he’s flooded with a sense of relief because he didn’t lose you today.

You’re right here with him.

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ghcstao3]

another mermay post 🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️ hehehehehe

short part two of siren!ghost x sailor!soap

-

In the darkness of the cave, with nothing but the bioluminescent something speckling the damp walls to illuminate the space, Soap isn’t sure how much time has passed since Ghost’s departure.

All Soap knows is that he’s cold, wet, and hungry, and has no idea how long he’s been left in this cave—and if there’s any way out.

He doesn’t venture far, not with what little visibility he has, but he feels along the slimy, algae-coated walls for any hidden crevice, any opening, any alcove. When he’s unsuccessful in that regard, a dares to inch toward the water, peering into its dark, murky depths, and wondering just how deep it goes. How deep underwater he is, in this little pocket of air that will most certainly run out.

And if it’s so deep that he couldn’t make it back up to the surface on his own.

Soap is curled up against one side of the cave when Ghost reappears, hauling fish, oysters, and tattered, sodden clothing of which Soap could very well guess the origins.

Ghost nudges everything as far up the stone floor as he can without having to push himself out of the water, but Soap never moves to accept. Fear still encases every one of his senses, even if his life had been spared. Even if Ghost said he wouldn’t kill him.

“You can’t keep me here, you know. Not forever,” Soap declares shakily, wincing at the echo of his words. Ghost just stares at him, bobbing gently in the abyss of water, those amber eyes now two pitch black holes boring into Soap.

“I can’t even… how would I even cook and eat the fish? I’ll starve if I don’t first run out of air,” Soap continues.

Ghost watches Soap for another long, silent moment. There isn’t enough light for Soap to place his expression, but his lack of reply is worrying enough.

“I won’t let that happen,” Ghost eventually says. There’s decisiveness to his answer, but in the echoey confines of the cavern, Soap swears there’s a slight waver in confidence. Like Ghost hadn’t thought this completely through, despite the cocksure way he had acted up until this moment.

“I’ll need sunlight,” Soap argues weakly. “And to be dry.”

Ghost outwardly falters. Soap can imagine a plethora of thoughts and emotions crossing the siren’s face, all obscured in the dim lighting. Soap waits and waits as silence only stretches again for what are only minutes, but feel like hours.

“Then I’ll find somewhere new,” states Ghost, before sinking back into the water with that same air of mystery as he had the first time.

Soap sighs, careful to fill his lungs minimally, lest he suffocate.

Well, he supposes—maybe wringing out the old clothes and laying them out could at least make for a somewhat more comfortable place to die, and the oysters might be enough to tie him over as to not make his death nearly as miserable.

Maybe he shouldn’t have argued with Ghost in the rowboat. Maybe he should have pretended to be lured in by the female sirens’ song and be put to death far quicker than whatever torture this is, that Ghost has planned.

Dejectedly, Soap squeezes out what excess water he can from the fabric, bunches it up in a pile and lays down on the makeshift pillow. The constant drip, drip, drip makes it impossible to sleep, so instead he just shuts his eyes and listens to the sounds of water lapping the stone floor, waiting for the swish and ripple of a disturbance to mark Ghost’s return—if there ever would be one in time.

[pretzel-box]

You can choose to ignore this or take as long as you want but if it's ok to get a Sebastian x gyaru reader ??

When they meet the other expendables, they get made fun of if their make up and how they dres so Sebastian defends them

Tags: Bullying, comfort

Words: 1k

Sebastian Solace was an enigma to everyone in the facility. His appearance alone made people wary of him, and his aloof demeanor kept them at a distance, if it wasn't for one of the usual business deals. But that suited Sebastian just fine. He wasn’t there to make friends, he was here to escape and get some of the sweet revenge he thirsted at.

Similar to him, you were hard to miss in this, even in this grim place. With your flashy gyaru style, bright hair, and the constant click of your heeled boots against the facility’s cold, metal floors, you stood out like a burst of color in a black-and-white world. Your makeup was always meticulously done—long lashes, glittering eyeshadow, and a shiny lip gloss that seemed to defy the harsh environment of the facility. To Sebastian, you were a light in this godforsaken place. But not everyone saw it that way.

The first time Sebastian saw you, you were huddled in a corner, your usual confident demeanor shattered as a group of your so-called teammates stood around, jeering at you. They mocked your style, your voice, your makeup—everything that made you uniquely you. He could see the pain in your eyes, even through the layers of mascara and eyeliner.

He had watched from the shadows then, his tail flicking back and forth with barely contained fury. He didn’t intervene that time, telling himself that he couldn’t fight all your battles for you. But every time he saw you, his resolve weakened. Especially when you smiled at him in the hallway, as if you hadn’t been reduced to tears just moments before. That was when he decided enough was enough.

Today, Sebastian found himself watching you again, only this time, he was ready to step in. The facility was unusually quiet, the low hum of machinery the only sound echoing through the halls. But as he turned a corner, he heard it—the familiar sound of laughter. Not your laughter, which was bright and infectious, but the cruel, taunting laughter of your teammates.

“You think those heels make you look tough?” one of them sneered, a tall man with a shaved head and a smirk that made Sebastian’s skin crawl. “You look like a clown.”

“Yeah, a freakin’ clown!” echoed another, a woman with a sharp bob and an even sharper tongue.

You stood in the middle of them, clutching your arm and staring at the ground, your usual confident expression replaced with one of quiet defeat as you silently cursed those people in your mind.

Sebastian’s tail flicked behind him, his three blue eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. That was it. He had seen enough.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice echoing through the hallway like a low growl.

The bullies turned, their smirks faltering as they saw him. Sebastian was an intimidating figure, with his tall, muscular frame and his third arm hanging loosely at his side. His three eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, all of them focused on the group of bullies.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” he continued, stepping closer. His tail swished behind him like a whip, ready to strike.

The tall man with the shaved head sneered. “This ain’t your business, Solace. Why don’t you crawl back into whatever hole you came out of?”

Sebastian didn’t reply. Instead, he moved with lightning speed, his tail snapping out and wrapping around the man’s ankle. With a quick yank, he pulled the man off his feet, sending him crashing to the floor.

The other bullies backed away, eyes wide with fear.

“You… you freak!” the woman with the sharp bob stammered, taking a step back.

Sebastian’s third arm flexed, his other two hands balling into fists. “Say that again,” he dared, his voice low and threatening.

They didn’t. Instead, they turned and ran, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As they fled, Sebastian turned his attention to you. You were still standing there, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. He softened his expression, the anger in his eyes fading away.

“Hey,” he said gently, his tail retracting and wrapping loosely around his waist. “You okay?”

You nodded, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to salvage your makeup. “Yeah… thanks,” you muttered, your voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sebastian shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe not, but I wanted to.”

You blinked up at him, your bright eyes searching his face. “Why?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Because… I don’t like seeing people get hurt. Especially not you.”

A small, genuine smile broke across your face, and for a moment, the pain and sadness seemed to lift. “You’re not so scary after all, are you?” you teased, your usual sass returning.

Sebastian chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “I guess not. But don’t tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Your secret’s safe with me,” you promised, stepping closer to him.

He reached out with his third arm and gently wiped away a tear that had smeared your eyeliner. “They don’t know what they’re talking about,” he said softly. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you looked away, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Sebastian.”

He nodded, his three eyes softening as they looked at you. “Anytime. And if they bother you again…”

“They won’t,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “Not with you around.”

He smiled at that, his tail flicking behind him in quiet contentment. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and something else—something warmer, something that made your cheeks flush and your stomach do little flips.

“Neither am I,” you replied softly.

And for the first time in a long time, in the middle of this dark and dangerous facility, you felt safe. You felt like you had a friend—maybe even something more. And as you walked down the hallway together, side by side, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

[neteyamssyulang]

Innocence

Day 2

Pairing: Neteyam aged up x Fem tawtute reader

Summary: After dating the olo’eyktans son for awhile you decided to take things up a notch in your relationship.

Warnings: Dom reader, Sub Neteyam, Innocent Neteyam, Oral (M receiving), Mommy kink, P in V, Belly bulge.

Word count: 823

Translation(s): Sayrìp -> Handsome, Paskalin -> Honey, Yawne -> Beloved, Oe rä'ä kame -> I do not know, Sna’lo rutxe rä'ä ftang -> Just please don’t stop.

A/N: Bit short but was fun to write, im sorry this came out late I kept debating on if it was good or not🥲

Taglist: @hey-hey-26 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @bessos4him @ntymavtr @puddle-nerd @zafrinaxyz @neteyamswillow @ikeyniofthetayrangi @bubblebaththoughts @skywonder @km-ffluv

Dating the olo'eyktans son wasn't as bad as anyone thought, even if you were human and he was na'vi.

He chose you, out of all the girls in his clan who'd throw themselves at his feet he wanted you as his mate.

You sighed turning around in your chair to face your boyfriend who was sprawled across your bed laying on his back, Norm had been gracious giving you a giant bed so Neteyam was comfortable if he ever came over.

Standing up you walked over to the na'vi climbing ontop of him to straddle his waist "Teyammm" you pouted.

"Yes syulang?" He spoke softly looking up at you "What is wrong?" His huge hands moved to your thighs rubbing soothing motions on them.

Leaning down you pressed a soft kiss against his lips "I want you" , the tips of his ears along with his cheeks turned a light shade of pink "I..I don't know what you mean.." his voice quiet as his looked away.

Placing your hand on his cheek you turned his face to look at you “Do you trust me sayrìp?” , the omaticaya gulped softly before nodding his head.

Your eyes narrowed slightly “Words baby” , “Yes mommy, I trust you.” Smiling you leaned in kissing him softly “Good boy~”

Neteyams tail swished happy at your praise, he watched as you leaned back to reach for the ties in his loincloth. Once you untied his loincloth pulling it off his hands went to cover himself.

“What’s wrong baby?” You asked tilting your head slightly , Neteyam’s eyes looked anywhere but at you “I am just nervous..”

“It’s ok paskalin, you’ll enjoy it I promise” finally turning his gaze to you he nodded slowly hesitantly removing his hands placing them by his sides instead.

Your mouth watered once you saw the size of him, long and very girthy with beautiful patterns of tanhì littering his cock.

Slowly you leaned down licking from the base to his tip, a sharp gasp left your boyfriends lips as you took his cock in your mouth.

Neteyam’s eyes rolled back as you began bobbing your head taking more of him, his hips started bucking up shoving more of his cock down your throat.

Tears pricked your eyes but you weren’t about to quit now, while you tried focusing on bringing your beautiful boy closer to the edge one of your hands reached down to gently massage his balls.

Your boyfriend hissed as he pulled you off his cock, thick spurts of bioluminescent cum shot out covering your clothed chest and thighs.

Panting Neteyam’s eyes widened “I’m sorry..i’m so sorry..” you only chuckled softly looking down at the mess he made “Don’t be sorry yawne it’s fine.”

The na’vi just shook his head “But I m-” he’s cut off as you grabbed him by the chin “Paskalin, do you think I’d do something like this if I wasn’t prepared to get a little messy?”

Neteyam was quiet for a bit after that but still unsure about the whole thing “What if I can not pleasure you that well?..”

“My darling boy.. I will still love you either way, besides I’m sure you’ll feel amazing inside of me~” with that you slowly began to undress throwing your clothes off the side of the bed.

Your boyfriend couldn’t help but blush as he watched you, his eyes roamed down your body now actually seeing it for the first time.

Straddling him you lined his tip with your soaked entrance before slowly sliding down onto him, whimpering Neteyam squeezed his eyes feeling your gummy walls sucking his cock inside.

Fuck he was huge.. by the time you took him to the hilt there was a small bulge in your stomach, cupping his face you leaned in kissing his nose “Open your eyes darling.”

Neteyam’s eyes gradually opened , “Good boy” you praised, slowly you began lifting yourself up only to drop back down onto him coaxing out the most beautiful sounds from your boyfriend.

As you picked up your pace he became a whimpering mess underneath you, his tail curled around your thigh while he leaned his head back against the headboard.

Seeing the opportunity you leaned in leaving sloppy kisses and hickies along his beautiful azure skin, “M-mo-mmy rutxe..” he gasped bucking his hips up.

“Please what, darling?” Grinning you leaned back looking at him, his ears are pinned back against his head, eyes rolled back with his mouth slightly agape.

You knew what he wanted, you just needed to hear him try and say it.

“Oe” he panted “Oe rä'ä kame” tears rolled down his face as he got closer to the edge again, your own orgasm was approaching fast.

Wiping his tears away you spoke softly “Well if you don’t know, how is mommy supposed to give you what you want?”

Sniffling he looked at you through his still teary eyes “Sna’lo rutxe rä'ä ftang..”

[dadsbongos]

Daan x fem!reader smut pleaseee?

not super proofread :3  697 words  i think this takes place in an au where instead of elise, daan meets you :P and no termina lol

warnings - p in v, unprotected, femdom aura (fem reader btw), PATHETIC man as he should be, hints of daan being an unstable wench

~~~

“You’re precious this way,” you twirl a finger in the doctor’s short hair.

“Miserable?” he squeezes your hips tighter despite the huff.

“Flustered,” you coo, working your hand down the smooth slope of his throat. Your fingers bob at his groan of protest. 

“I have to be up early tomorrow, you know that…” his face is quickly growing red. However, the way his eyes are darting from your lips to your breasts to the apex of your thighs pressing snugly onto him tells you he doesn’t actually care that he has to be up early tomorrow.

But you do love to tease, “Oh?” you pout, shifting onto your knees and off Daan’s lap, “So, I should move then? Best to let you rest, right?”

“Well…” he whines, almost pathetically, and rolls his eyes while pulling at the tight collar of his shirt with one hand, “I never said that.”

“Aw,” you wring both hands around the back of his neck and angle his face to press your lips on his, “Do you want me, darling?”

“I live to want you, my love.”

You kiss him again, “Right answer.”

Daan can’t even weasel his way back to your shared bedroom before you’ve worked off his ugly plaid trousers. And he has no room to so much as slide off the couch before you’ve fished his cock free. Flushed red and soft and curving into your warm palm.

Puckering your lips, spit foams and dribbles onto the head of Daan’s erection, it twitches at the cooling agent. Brief, wet respite before you charitably slot him into the crease of your thigh -- only long enough tug your panties to the side and yank up your skirt, but even that feels comparable to eternity of suffering. 

“Hurry,” he snips, bucking up into the sweltering plump of your thigh, only to quickly soften his tone, “<i>please</i>...”

“As I said,” you coo, kissing up Daan’s neck, “You’re precious this way.”

He whines into your mouth, lips slippery with want and legs tight with desperation, once you finally concede and sink your pelvis to his. His cock basks in the velvety scorch, and Daan makes his appreciation known with even thrusts up into you. Intentional to not only meet your rocking, but initiate contact as deep as he can carve.

Daan latches onto the hem of your shirt and rips it up and over your head, teasing his thumbs against where the fat of your tits spills over your bra. His teeth dig into the plush as he croons and whines about your pussy. <i>So good, tight-- fucking warm. Gonna ruin you for anyone else. You’re mine, right? You’re mine.</i>

It’d be strange to hear if he weren’t whispering it into your soft breasts like he’s afraid to be negated. 

“All yours,” you confirm, curling both arms around his head and pushing him closer. Your thighs suction to his sides -- desperate bouncing cooling into pathetic grinds. 

Daan, however, forces you to keep moving up and down on his cock. His hands strong as he manhandles your movements for his own pleasure, but he is a gentleman so he reaches between the sweltering core of your conjoined bodies and circles your clit. 

“I want to feel you cum on me,” he professes, thrusts speeding up -- rapid jerks to fuck your juices out of you. Reveling in the downright degenerate sound of your wet cunt spilling and sucking with his every drive inside you, “You’re so wet, darling. Is that for me? It is, right? You’re so wet for me?”

Needy hands pull and squeeze at your pliant flesh, his cock twitching as he leaks broken moans. Soon he’s sputtering hot cum inside you, forcing your hips to still right against him. And continuing his gentlemanly pattern, Daan uses his grip on you to force you to swish back and forth. Your clit brushing the hairs at his pelvis. Even as he softens, Daan kisses and licks and begs for your own orgasm.

“Please,” he pants, “Need to feel you cum, darling. Let me feel you.”

Daan truly is the best for you when he’s like this: flustered and red and begging.