#but i take a long time to get anything off the ground

[cthulhus-curse]

The Lion & The Lamb

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,229

Warnings: Fuckboy!Wanda, Breeding, Collars, Daddy Kink, Eventual Fluff, Face Slapping, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, Leashes, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Strap-Ons | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After a chance encounter with your first girlfriend, Wanda feels the need to stake claim over what is rightfully hers.

“So, I was thinking we could go see a movie after finals.”

There was a hopeful tone in your voice as you spoke. It was, as always, seemingly ignored. Normally you’d appear crestfallen, but after having spent months in such a manner, you simply shrugged.

“Oh, uh, sure,” came the bored reply. “Whatever you want, babe.”

“Maybe I could even go to one of your soccer games?” you asked, knowing what the answer would entail.

“If you’d like to, sure.”

You sighed before focusing on your food once again. It was partly your fault, you admitted. Towards the start of your junior year at university, you had gotten involved with your roommate who you spent the first two years crushing over. While it was not an ideal situation that you were in, only being able to involve yourself in sexual endeavors with the woman, it was more than you would have hoped.

Wanda was known to never fully commit. You were sure she had slept with most, if not all, of her soccer team at one point. She could do what she wanted and the two of you had been clear as to what your relationship entailed, but you couldn’t help the hint of jealousy that came out at the thought of others being so close with your friend.

She only eyed her phone as you studied her – the way in which she wore her snapback backwards, her shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her shoulders, which showed off her toned, muscular arms, and gray sweats along with Vans shoes made you drool. The two of you had chosen to spend time before finals, the calm before the storm, stuffing your faces at a local restaurant – you remembered it was Wanda’s favorite, but she did not even notice. It filled you with disdain to know she could hold you in her arms and make you feel the greatest pleasures in life, but not even bat an eye when it came to a more interpersonal relationship, whether platonic or not.

As you bit your bottom lip as a means to keep yourself grounded, the waitress finally came to your table.

“Hi! My name is Natasha and I will be taking care of you two ladies today. Can I get you guys started with any drinks?” came a voice that you recognized so well.

Turning around, your eyes widened. You were met with a sight you had not seen in years. There stood a redhead with a notepad, smiling at Wanda before turning to you. In a manner that made your heart soar, she only beamed wider when noticing your appearance.

“Y/N?” she questioned with bewilderment. “It’s been so long!”

“Hey, Nat,” you greeted while sitting up straight. “Holy shit, it’s been years! How are you? Nice haircut by the way.”

“Thank you! I’m alright though, just working my way through life until I save up enough to move to California,” Natasha chuckled – you vividly remembered how, during the time in which the two of you had been together, she always dreamed of escaping the cold claws of the east coast and moving to a much warmer atmosphere. “And how are you? You look amazing, detka.”

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed how Wanda visibly tensed at the pet name. She would call you that from time to time while writhing on top of you. Nobody had ever referred to you in that manner from her knowledge. If anything, she never appeared interested in knowing about your past relationships or really anything to do with your personal life.

“I’m doing well. I got finals in a few weeks and I am trying to treat myself before potentially getting a brain aneurysm from all the studying.”

The two of you shared a laugh. It felt as if no time had passed since you were high school students kissing under the bleachers of the football field, away from prying eyes. Natasha had been your first love; it nearly broke your heart when your relationship only turned to shambles as you went off to college and she remained in the work-force. It was not the same when you couldn’t see one another at all times. Still, you found yourself missing her while staring into deep green eyes that never failed to hypnotize you – in that moment, it felt as though there was nobody else but the two of you, although the gnawing image of Wanda still appeared in your brain.

“I’m Wanda, by the way,” came the dirty blonde’s voice through gritted teeth from the other side of the table. “Nice to meet you.”

You recognized the condescending look which she threw at Natasha, one that was typically reserved for the idiotic professors who she almost always clashed with. There was a hesitant wave thrown your ex’s way – a bit too much if you said so yourself.

“Oh, likewise,” Natasha simply replied before turning back to you. “Are you two…?”

“Nope. We’re just friends and roommates,” you quoted Wanda’s words whenever someone asked the same question.

It was strange to watch Wanda’s behavior. You swore her fingernails dug into the table as she kept herself from commenting. Her mouth formed a straight line as she practically stared daggers at Natasha.

“Y/N and I used to date back in high school,” Natasha commented as she let her eyes gaze over Wanda before returning them to you. “Here, I’ll give you my number. We really should catch up and go for a coffee or something. I’d like to know more about how you’re doing.”

After she was finished scribbling away in her notepad, Natasha tore the piece of paper and handed it to you. There was a heart beside the ten digits which warmed your own. You assumed that if Wanda wanted nothing to do with you, perhaps the previous love between you and your ex could be lit up once again.

With a satisfied smirk, Natasha spoke again.

“Now, what can I get you for drinks?”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The remainder of lunch had been spent in a wave of awkward silence between you and Wanda. She only questioned you about Natasha twice, asking how long the two of you had been together and what your feelings for her were currently – all you did was respond with ‘I don’t know’ to the latter.

Once you were done and ready to split the food, Wanda stopped you. She paid for everything, even if it was rather expensive given the status of the restaurant. The sly smirk along with the head tilt she gave Natasha as she came over to pick up the check became ingrained in your brain.

There was even more silence that followed on your way to your shared dorm. It surprised you to feel Wanda’s hand over your own suddenly. She held it tight as the two of you walked around town en route to the campus. Rather than take notice of your questioning gaze, the woman simply held her head up and carried on.

When you had finally arrived at your dorm, ignoring the questioning gazes from the others who noticed your interlaced hands, Wanda urged you inside. She locked the door behind her, taking off her snap-back before throwing it to the side not caring where it landed.

“Take off your clothes, baby,” Wanda ordered softly. “Go get your collar and leash, okay?”

You recognized that exhausted tone, only did not know where it had stemmed from. Still, you were not about to question Wanda’s actions. Even if the dorm room was small, you still made your way to your side while simultaneously tugging at your shirt, all while searching for the required items.

From behind, you failed to notice Wanda mirroring your actions. She carefully pulled at her clothes, letting them fall over the floor before her bed, which she kneeled by. Her hands went under it, dragging a box that lay beneath out of the dark. When opening it, she smiled – once and for all, Wanda would let herself own only you and nobody else.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said with slight giddiness, smiling at the way the pink faux-leather collar squeezed your neck while the similarly-colored leash fell down your body.

“Crawl to me, Y/N,” Wanda said. “Come here.”

When you got down on your hands and knees, you took in her appearance. She was sitting over the edge of her bed still yanking at the harness over her hips with a dildo standing proudly. You could tell it was the special one she only used several times on you, causing your heart to nearly skip a beat. As you took in the naked beauty who then went to pull her hair into a messy bun, you were frozen in place.

“Don’t make daddy repeat herself,” she announced with a much more dangerous tone. “I need my obedient girl today.”

Before you began moving, you nodded. There was no hesitation that came out as you crawled towards your roommate, a serious look over your face as you attempted to study her. She was clearly upset. That along with her silent hostility towards Natasha at the restaurant made you wonder if she was truly jealous as you suspected.

“You know you’re mine, right?” Wanda asked, her voice seemingly small as you kneeled before you. “You can answer, angel.”

“I know, daddy.”

A hand went to your cheek, softly cupping it. Wanda let her thumb graze around your flushed skin, smiling as you shyly attempted to hide yourself. As much as you loved the unabashed roughness she tended to show at times, such tender acts filled you with joy.

Wanda tugged at the leash, forcing you towards her as she took your lips with her own in a searing kiss. It was rough, somehow different from any other she had planted over your mouth. Ever since having seen Natasha, her emotions had been heightened.

“You’re daddy’s pretty toy. I don’t want anyone else to have you, ever,” she explained as she took small breaks from your making-out session. “And I never want anyone else. I just…I need you.”

“I’m here, daddy,” you replied. There were tears nearly forming at the words she spoke. Even if you were unsure whether she meant them or not, they made your heart swell. All you ever wanted since first meeting Wanda was to be hers – her only toy. “Tell me what I can do to please you.”

One last kiss was placed over your mouth, firmly planted as Wanda lingered there for a few seconds. She let your foreheads pressed together while listening to your mirrored ragged breaths. Never had you been through such intimacy with her.

“Come lay down, princess. Let me use you for a bit,” Wanda announced as she leaned back. She grabbed your hands and helped you up, smiling as you carefully went towards the bed. “Daddy’s going to fill you up with cum until you’re a crying mess okay? I need to make you mine and ruin you for anyone else.”

“Yes, daddy,” you giddily replied, beaming at the idea of potentially being Wanda’s.

Wanda shifted over the bed, her eyes roaming all over your body. She put her hands over your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart. At the sight of your already drenched cunt, she hummed approvingly.

She moved closer to you, letting the creamy dildo side against you. It was grabbed carefully as she did not want to set off the fake cum by squeezing hard. The tip swirled against your slit, garnering large amounts of your juices over it. While you were wet, it was not enough to keep you from being hurt by the roughness she wished to exert.

“Be right back,” Wanda uttered before moving away.

It felt like a lifetime went by before she came back from kneeling over the floor. In her wake, she carried a bottle of lubricant. When she finally settled between your legs once again, you felt at peace. Drops of the lube were squired over the silicone cock before Wanda’s free hand went to spread it across the length. It wasn’t until it glistened with the liquid that she threw the bottle to the other side of the bed.

Wanda gripped the dildo again before letting it touch your entrance. Rather than swirl it all across letting you grow used to such a feeling, she began easing herself in. There was slight caution to her movements only to be replaced quickly by her trademark self.

Her cock spread your pussy apart. Velvety walls moved to welcome the large toy before wrapping themselves around it. Even after having had it used on you various times throughout the semester, you still moaned loudly whenever Wanda filled you up.

“God, you’re a fucking slut, aren’t you?” Wanda questioned with raised eyebrows. She pushed her hips forth before you were able to reply, only yelping loudly instead. “If you wanted me to make you mine, all you had to do was ask. Not whore yourself out for someone else. So stupid.”

All you could do was lay there, taking each thrust with the utmost joy. A hand went to tug at your leash, bringing your face forth while simultaneously choking you. Wanda’s eyes were dark and similar in appearance to those which had begrudgingly stared at Natasha throughout lunch. With her face dangerously close, a free hand went to cup your cheek.

“Tell me who owns you,” Wanda roared. She brought her hand down over your cheek, slapping it with might as you hissed in return. Those little sounds never ceased to make her smile. “Who’s the only one that can fuck you this well? Who owns your pussy?”

“It’s you, daddy!” came your cry as she hit your face again, holding the leash steadily in order to keep you from squirming away. “You own every inch of me. I promise you I am nobody else’s.”

“That’s a good answer,” Wanda whispered. She gave you one last slap for good measure, only it was softer. “Now open your mouth.”

When you gave into temptation, Wanda soon hovered her mouth above your own. She spit at you, grunting as she drove the toy deeper into your cunt with force.

“You’re such a good whore, Y/N. Just look at how well you take daddy’s cock. Your pretty pussy is practically begging to be fucked, eh?”

You didn’t trust yourself speaking, so instead you were sure to nod with vigor. Your hips began grinding against the dildo in an attempt to get off quickly. With your arousal at its peak, it would not be long until you turned into a mess in Wanda’s arms.

With closed eyes, you held into Wanda for support. Your hands landed over her bare upper arms, squeezing them and groaning. She flexed them slightly, forcing you to open your orbs and stare at the sight before you. Her muscles were clearly visible — you always did love when she used all her strength to pick you up and throw you over the bed before ravaging you.

“Awww baby, you’re adorable,” Wanda laughed as she sat back. Still holding the leash, she brought her other hand down your body, letting it ghost over your lower stomach where a small bulge appeared whenever she pushed the dildo into your depths. “What a stupid cock whore you are. I bet Natasha couldn’t ever make you feel this way, eh, detka? You’re my loyal little bitch.”

“Mhm daddy,” you breathed as her fingers pressed against your body.

Wanda dug her cock as deep as she could, giggling at the much larger bulge shown. The palm of her hand held it down, making you scream out in a midst of immense pleasure.

“You’re close, aren’t you? You’ll soon be daddy’s breeding bitch.”

At that, you nodded with tears already forming in your eyes at your overwhelming arousal. Still pressing down on your body while simultaneously tugging at the leash, Wanda tilted her head. You were the most adorable toy she had seen — always ready to please her whenever and however she wished.

“Come for daddy, baby girl. All over my cock, okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” you murmured, letting your head fall back, enjoying how the collar choked you, as you fell apart.

Dismay took over your being as Wanda removed the toy from your pussy as you moaned through your orgasm. The leash had been left over your naked body as well which visibly made you pout. It was only made better as a hand went to keep your thighs open while the other squeezed the dildo with might.

It wasn’t long until a squirt of fake cum shot through your cunt, filling you up slowly. The white substance was thick as it quickly poured into you. Wanda always loved stuffing the toy with all the could as a means to please you further.

Once you were all nice and full, the woman’s cock slid back inside. It was held there frozen in place as you recovered from your orgasm, your chest still heaving up and down as your body shook.

“I’ll help get you cleaned up in a second, detka,” Wanda mumbled as she leaned down. She pressed her forehead against your own in a manner that was unheard of from such a self-proclaimed cold-hearted person. She sighed, closing her eyes before breathing in the stench of sex that filled the dorm. “You did so well. Thank you for always trusting me enough to touch you like this.”

“And thank you for always being so good to me,” you replied with a tired smile, frowning as Wanda only shook her head in retort.

“I just…I’m sorry. I’ve been really shitty ever since we started doing this. It’s just sex like we both agreed to and, yeah, you know it’s been going on with others for me, but I don’t want that anymore,” Wanda admitted with apparent embarrassment at having to showcase such emotions that were seemingly alien to her. “So, do you want to be my girlfriend? Like, actually I mean. I don’t want anyone else to be honest. Just you, Y/N.”

You remained silent, your eyes wide as you heard the words that spilled from your friend’s mouth. All which you had dreamed of ever since setting your eyes on the blonde woman was becoming reality.

“Fuck, I know I’m an idiot. I can’t expect you to say yes after I’ve spent all these years fucking around literally,” Wanda said with a mix of guilt and disgust at her behavior, especially since all she had ever wanted was you. “Seeing firsthand that someone else can potentially have you too makes my blood boil. You’re my detka, nobody else’s. You can take some time to think about it too. I want you to be o-”

You did not hesitate to squeeze her arms, groaning at their muscular appearance, before pulling her close. Lips interlocked for what you knew would be a core memory throughout your life. You held her close, afraid that if for a moment you were to let go, Wanda would be gone as soon as she came.

“I would love that so much,” you admitted when pulling away to grasp for air while leaving your foreheads touching. “I really want to be yours, Wanda. Always.”

[golden-reverie]

Burnt Out

Author’s note: Hello to anyone who sees this! I’m Elodie, 24, from the Midwest. I love to experiment with writing, and my guilty pleasure is anything to do with Harry Styles. I’ve been so inspired by all the amazing writers on here, so I finally decided to take a stab at something of my own. I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: You’ve been running yourself ragged over a work project, and Harry isn’t having it.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: MDNI, spanking, punishment, fingering, pre-established dom/sub relationship, stern dom!harry, sub!reader, fem!reader, aftercare, all actions and dynamics are consensual

The soft glow of the laptop screen flickered against the walls, casting restless shadows in the dimly lit house. Y/N’s fingers danced over the keyboard, her eyes locked onto the cascading lines of code. Stray wisps of amber hair had escaped the messy bun atop her head, and she absently chewed on the end of a pen—an old habit from her college days. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of keys and the quiet hum of the laptop’s fan.

Harry lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with a mixture of concern and quiet frustration. The faint aroma of the dinner he’d prepared still clung to the air, a cruel reminder that she had once again skipped a meal in favor of work. Outside, the streetlights cast a soft, silver glow through the thin curtains, tracing ghostly patterns on the floor. Y/N remained wrapped in the world of her screen, completely oblivious to his presence.

He cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the hush like a blade. “Y/N, it’s late. You need to come to bed.”

She didn’t look up. “Just a few more minutes, Harry. I need to finish this.”

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his unruly curls. “You’ve been saying that for the last three hours. You need a break.”

This time, she did glance up—just long enough for him to catch the flicker of exhaustion in her gaze before she turned back to her work. “I can’t. This project is a big one. I have to get it done.”

Harry pushed off the door frame and strode toward her, his presence heavy, unyielding. A warm hand landed on her shoulder, grounding her. “You’ve been at this nonstop for weeks. You need to take care of yourself.”

She shrugged off his touch. “I will. Just not tonight.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not how this works, Y/N. You know the rules. You agreed to them.” His voice remained level, but there was an edge to it now, a quiet authority that she could no longer ignore. “Your body needs food, rest… You’ll burn out if you keep this up.”

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, but for the first time in hours, she hesitated. She exhaled slowly, her voice softer, but still laced with defiance.

“I just… need to finish this. Can’t you see that?”

Harry’s expression didn’t waver. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You can finish it tomorrow. During normal hours. Right now, you need sleep. I already let you skip dinner, and we both know that wasn’t the first meal you’ve ignored lately.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I’ve run out of patience, love.”

Y/N stilled. She understood the implication behind his words. Her breath hitched, cheeks heating.

“Harry, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone was gentle, yet immovable. “And you will.” With deliberate ease, he reached out and closed her laptop, the sudden silence deafening.

She finally looked at him, her eyes flashing with something between defiance and reluctant surrender. “You’re being over the top,” she muttered.

Harry smirked, tilting her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Maybe I am. But someone has to be.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, slow and deliberate. “You’re not taking care of yourself. And that’s not acceptable to me.” His voice was softer now, but it carried an unmistakable weight.

The air thickened, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable.

He took a step back, nodding toward the staircase. “C’mon. Up you get.”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before pushing up from her chair, her body drawn to his like a tide to the shore. As much as she wanted to argue, she knew he was right. This project had pushed her past her limits—late nights, skipped meals, unanswered texts and calls—Harry had let a lot slide. But tonight, that grace had run out. And now that she had been pulled from the blue-light-induced trance she had been under, she found herself grateful for his insistence.

As they ascended the stairs, a different kind of tension coiled low in her stomach. She knew exactly where this was going, and she could already feel the electricity crackling in the space between them.

Harry sat on the edge of their bed, his eyes steady as she hovered in the doorway. He extended a hand, beckoning her forward.

“C’mere,” he commanded.

She found her place in between his legs. His hands fell to her hips and slinked around to the soft flesh under her ass, holding her in place. She looked down at him, anticipating his next move.

“I think you have a pretty good idea of where this is headed, yeah?” His eyes held a quiet patience that stood in sharp contrast to the inevitable sentence looming over her head.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Harry hummed in approval. “I’ve let a lot slide these past couple of weeks,” he said, tilting his head forward in search of her eyes. “I know big projects come up and that they sometimes get the better of our judgment. That’s just life. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by skipping meals and running on two hours of sleep each day… I know you know that.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders, fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt. A nervous habit.

He blows out a soft sigh, brushing his fingers against her skin, “I gave you plenty of chances to course-correct, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting perfection, but you’ve been running yourself into the ground, and that’s not something I can just overlook.”

She chewed her lip, her gaze flickering anywhere but his face. “I know. I’m sorry.” A frustrated breath escaped her lips, “It’s just… this project is important to me, and you know how cutthroat my coworkers can be. I can’t afford to fall behind.”

“I understand,” he says, lightly squeezing her flesh beneath his hands. “And I love how hard you work, but regardless, you know you can’t be on your A-game if you’re not taking care of yourself… That’s why we put these rules in place, remember? He moves his right hand up to her jaw in a silent command to meet his stare, “Because I love you and I care about you.” His voice was steady, eyes unwavering. “And sometimes you need a reminder to care about yourself, too. Yeah?”

She maintained eye contact this time, the guilt she had been trying to push aside settled heavily in her chest. “I love you too.” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t just an apology—it was an admission. She had ignored the rules, brushed aside her own well-being for weeks, and now the weight of it all felt like it was seeping out of her pores, pooling at his feet.

Harry lets his hand drop from her chin, his expression firm but not unkind. “And I appreciate that,” he says, his tone shifting, sharpening. “But you know the deal.”

It wasn’t necessarily a question, but she answered him, nonetheless.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright, over my knee,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He patted his thigh—a silent summons, firm and absolute.

Y/N hesitated for a moment. Not out of reluctance, but out of the sheer pleasure of the moment—this dance between them—the thrill of defiance followed by sweet surrender. She always wanted this, always needed this, and until right now; she hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving it.

He didn’t rush her. He never did. He simply waited, watching her with steady, knowing eyes. The weight of his gaze alone sent a shiver through her, anticipation thrumming beneath her skin. Taking a slow, measured breath, she finally relented, placing her hands on the mattress for balance as she draped herself over his lap.

He took a moment to admire the sight before him—the gentle arch of her back, the delicate vibration in her limbs, betraying her excitement. His hands smoothed over her spine, warm and comforting, a soothing contrast to the tension coiling inside her.

He could feel her trembling almost imperceptibly as she laid there—a quiet, unspoken longing bubbling up from her core. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, peeling them down her legs with deliberate ease before tossing them aside.

His palms roamed over the swell of her ass, his touch featherlight, teasing. Y/N bit her lip, resisting the instinct to press her thighs together as he traced the lace trim of her panties, feeling her heat radiating through the delicate fabric. That alone nearly unraveled him. His cock strained painfully against his sweatpants, but he forced himself to linger in this moment—the exquisite torture of making her wait, of drawing it out until she was teetering on the edge.

His hands traveled upward, finding the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath. He heard the small hitch in her breath, watched as goosebumps bloomed across her flesh. Slowly, agonizingly, he lifted the fabric, removing it from her body, letting the cool air kiss her bare back as she shivered in his grasp.

He towered over her, his presence commanding every ounce of her attention. His voice, low and unwavering, wrapped around her like a steel chain. “Is your work more important than your own health?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, steadying herself before she answered. “No, Sir.”

“And who decides when you’ve had enough?” His head tilted slightly, waiting—expecting.

His voice rumbled through her, a dark, velvety vibration that settled deep in her bones. Her breath hitched. “You do, Sir.”

A flicker of approval danced in his eyes. “Good girl.”

His palm ghosted over the curves of her ass, tracing gentle circles that did little to soothe the anticipation humming in her nerves. “I want you to count for me.”

She barely had a moment to brace herself before his hand left her skin—only to return with a sharp, resounding crack.

“One!” she gasped. But before she could stop herself, her right hand shot back instinctively, trying to shield herself from the sting.

Harry was faster. He caught her wrist effortlessly, pinning it against the small of her back. His fingers wove through hers, the delicate touch at odds with the firmness of his next words.

“You know better than that.” His voice carried a quiet, heavy disapproval that made her stomach flip. “We’re starting over. Every time you squirm, we’ll go back to one again. Understood?”

Y/N swallowed hard, resisting the urge to whimper. He meant business tonight. “Yes, Sir.”

The next blow landed just as hard.

“One, Sir.” This time, she tagged on the honorific—not required, but a subtle touch she knew he'd appreciate. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Then came the next. And the next.

“Two, Sir… Three, Sir!” The quick succession stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her voice edged with both pain and something deeper, something needier.

He could feel it—the way her body responded, her skin flushing beneath his touch, heat rolling off her in waves. His palm burned against her flesh, but he reveled in it. He lived for this part: the slow, deliberate breaking down of everything but sensation.

By number twelve, the sharp slap landed against the tender flesh of her lower thighs, and she wailed, the sound raw and unfiltered. Tears pricked at the edges of her vision, but still, she forced the number past her lips.

Harry knew her body better than she did. He knew exactly how to unravel her, how to make her cry out first from frustration—then from sheer, unadulterated pleasure. He wanted her mind empty, consumed only by this, by him.

The next set of strikes sent waves of something heady through her, an intoxicating blend of pain and euphoria. Her breath stuttered. She barely managed to grunt out the numbers between each punishing impact, her body trembling, craving.

By the time he reached twenty-eight, her head had fallen slack against the bed, silent tears soaking into the duvet. This was the most Y/N had ever taken. Normally, he didn’t have to go past twenty before she surrendered completely, but tonight—tonight she had been stubborn. Each slap chipped away at the stress, the tension, the weight she had been carrying for weeks.

He felt the moment her body gave in. The way her fingers went limp in his grasp, her voice raw, spent. She wasn’t resisting anymore—just accepting.

“Thirty, Sir,” she sobbed, the words almost lost in the haze of exhaustion and relief. Then, softer still, “I’m sorry.”

Harry let his hand relax, fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over the heated expanse of her skin. Her body was still shaking, but not from pain. Not anymore. He knew she had slipped, drifting into that quiet, blissful space where nothing existed beyond the warmth of his touch and the safety of his presence.

And he wasn’t about to pull her out. Not yet.

For a long moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of his palm smoothing over her, and the lingering, uneven sniffles escaping her lips. He let her breathe, let her be.

After a couple minutes, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “You did so good baby. I’m proud of you.”

He pressed a few final, featherlight kisses along the curve of her lower back, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured, “Are you ready for me to check on you?”

He already knew the answer. Knew what he would find when his fingers slipped between her thighs. The anticipation sent a thrill down his spine as he let his hand drift lower, tracing the seam of her slick folds, drinking in the heat that seeped into his skin.

She was dripping.

Harry was hard beneath her, the evidence pressing insistently against her stomach, and he knew she could feel it too. But tonight wasn’t about him. Yes, she had broken the rules—deserved the punishment she had just endured—but more importantly, he wanted to strip away the weight she had been carrying. He wanted to unmake the stress that had hardened her and replace it with something softer.

His thumb found her clit, circling with just enough pressure to make her squirm, a broken whimper muffled against the duvet.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he praised, his voice a low hum of satisfaction.

“Just gonna make you feel good now, yeah?”

He slid a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, while his free hand threaded into her hair, stroking, grounding her.

Her nod was small, but he felt the way her body melted, giving in to his touch. Wetness seeped onto his thigh, further proof of how much she needed this—needed him.

He pushed a second finger inside, reveling in the way her walls clenched around him, her body trembling from the overwhelming sensations. With every stroke, he could feel her tension unraveling, her muscles slackening, the last remnants of restraint slipping away.

The world around him dissolved as his fingers curled inside her, seeking out the spot he knew would make her crumble. “You’ve been so good for me,” he whispered, his lips grazing the damp skin of her shoulder. “Took your punishment like a champ. Now, I want you to come for me. Just like this.”

Her skin tasted of sweat and salt, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.

Y/N was a paradox—a perfect blend of submission and defiance. As obedient as she was, that stubborn streak of hers ran just as deep, a constant challenge that kept him on his toes. But nights like this? When she surrendered completely, yielding every inch of herself to him without hesitation?

He savored it. Relished it. Worshipped it.

Because having all of her—mind, body, and soul—was a privilege he would never take for granted.

He studied her like an artist captivated by the final stroke of their masterpiece, burning the view into his memory—the flutter of her lashes as her eyes turned glassy, the flush that crept down her neck, the way her cunt clenched so tightly around his fingers as if trying to keep him there forever. He wanted to teach her to let go. To release all the anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion that had been suffocating her for far too long.

But he needed it to come from her—wanted her to own her pleasure as much as he did—to know that she was worthy, desired, loved.

Harry’s fingers slid deeper, moving with deliberate slowness as they arched just right, pressing against the spot that had her moaning, her body instinctively grinding against his palm. Her face was buried in the duvet, eyes squeezed shut as she gasped, overwhelmed by the rush of sensations flooding through her.

“Come on, Y/N. Let go for me,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with filthy promise.

Her body tensed, and he knew he had her. She trembled on the precipice before the dam broke. A shattered moan tore from her lips as pleasure ripped through her, muscles spasming in tight, rhythmic waves. The heat of her release coated his figures, and he didn’t stop—not yet.

He worked her through it, his thumb never relenting from the steady, precise strokes against her clit. He wanted everything. Wanted to hear her cry out for him, to watch the pleasure drag her under until she had nothing left to give.

And under she went.

Her cries turned breathless as the last tremors wracked her body, her limbs going boneless beneath his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, smirking at the needy little whimper she made at the loss. He soothed the ache with soft strokes along her trembling thighs, grounding her as she came back down.

“Atta girl, sweetheart,” he cooed, voice laced with satisfaction. “That feel good?”

A slow, exhausted nod was all she could manage. As the haze of pleasure lifted, she became aware of everything at once—the damp strands of hair sticking to her nape, the tingling in her limbs, the lingering warmth radiating from her backside.

But nothing could pull her back to reality quite like his voice.

“Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?”

***

Water cascaded from the shower head in silken ribbons, a warm, soothing contrast against the cool tile. Steam curled in the air, thick and languid, blurring the edges of the room until it felt like they existed in their own private universe. The scent of eucalyptus clung to the mist, wrapping around them like an embrace.

Harry held Y/N close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the quiet strength of him anchoring her. Her head rested against his collarbone, the sound of his heartbeat a calming metronome against the storm that had been raging inside her for weeks.

His hands moved slowly over her damp skin, drawing soothing circles along her spine, his thumbs tracing the delicate ridges of her back. She shivered—not from the cold, but from the contrast of sensations: the warmth of the water, the cool air beyond it, the roughness of his calloused fingers against the softness of her flesh.

She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze through the water’s shimmering veil. Her lips were parted, her lashes heavy, surrender written in every line of her expression. Harry felt something deep and primal stir in his chest.

With a lingering kiss, he turned her around, his fingers threading through her hair as he worked the shampoo into a gentle lather. His touch was reverent, a contradiction of tenderness and strength, his large hands cradling her head with the kind of care that made her stomach flutter. She sighed softly, melting into the sensation as she rested against his muscled body, her small noises of contentment filling the air like music.

When the last suds had been rinsed away, Harry reached past her to shut off the water, the sudden absence of sound leaving them in an intimate hush. Without hesitation, he grabbed the towels he had set out earlier, wrapping her in one before she could feel the bite of the air. He took his time drying her off, the plush fabric gliding over her sensitive skin like a gentle breeze, coaxing a soft sigh from her lips. Then, with the same quiet devotion, he slipped one of his t-shirts over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her smaller frame.

As Y/N moved through the final steps of her skincare routine, Harry retrieved a bottle of lotion from the cupboard across the room. He approached her with the grace of a shadow, gently tapping her on the bum.

“When you’re done, I want you to lay on the bed on your tummy. Ok?” His voice a smooth, honeyed command.

She finished up and did as she was told, sinking into the mattress, her head resting on her folded arms. Her damp hair spread across the silk pillow like a river of dark water, cool and smooth against the fabric.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, and she heard the soft sound of lotion being smoothed between his hands. A moment later, the hem of her shirt lifted, and his warm palms met the tender skin of her backside. Y/N sighed deeply, the coolness of the lotion a welcome relief to the heat lingering from earlier. His hands moved with slow, deliberate strokes, massaging away the sting, his fingers tracing the curves of her body with intimate familiarity.

The room was quiet, save for the rustle of sheets and the steady rhythm of their breathing. Y/N felt herself unraveling beneath his touch, sinking into the present moment, leaving behind the weight of the stress that had knotted itself into her muscles. He always knew how to bring her back—how to pull her from the depths of her mind and remind her that she didn't have to handle everything on her own.

When he was finished, he leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the delicate skin there.

“How do you feel?” His voice was a low murmur against her ear, thick with warmth and something deeper—something unspoken but understood.

Y/N swallowed, taking a moment to gather her words. “I—I feel good, Sir,” she admitted, her voice still laced with the remnants of pleasure and submission. “Still a little out of it… but good.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “I’m glad for the punishment. I really needed that.”

She shifted to sit up, and he caught her chin between his fingers, maneuvering her head to face him.

Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring patterns along her cheek. “You did well tonight. You know that, right? M’proud of you.”

The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket—warm, protective, unwavering. She smiled softly into his touch.

A beat of silence stretched between them before he spoke again. “When you feel like things are spiraling, I need you to know you can come to me.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and deliberate, filled with everything he didn’t need to say—everything he had already proven.

When she finally pulled away, her voice was softer, more certain. “I do know that. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. It’s… a habit, shutting people out when I’m stressed. But regardless, you didn’t deserve that.”

Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, “Yes, I’m well aware of that habit of yours, which we’ll crack one day. But in the meantime, you can push all you want, sweetheart. Unfortunately for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She giggled, letting him pull her into his chest. “On the contrary. Very fortunate for me,” she corrected, her voice tinged with affection.

He grinned, maneuvering the covers so she could slide beneath them. Reaching over, he switched off the lamp on his bedside table, casting the room into a velvety darkness.

As Y/N melted into him, the last of her tension slipping away, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Get some sleep. I love you.”

���I love you too,” she whispered against his skin, finally surrendering to the quiet lull of sleep’s embrace.

...

Ahhh! Kind of out there for my first post but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Hope you enjoyed!

[00valentina-writes00]

Idfk why why ask was being weird- ANYWHO I decided to do them both cause- why not?

✞⛧ Sevika AND Ambessa when they see your self harm scars ✞⛧

Warnings: mentions of self harm/self harm scars

✞⛧ Sevika ✞⛧

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the flickering lantern on the bedside table. You sighed as you peeled off your long-sleeved shirt, letting the cool air brush over your arms. It had been a long day, and you were exhausted. Your body ached from moving through the bustling chaos of the Undercity, and the only thing on your mind was sinking into bed and forgetting the world for a few hours.

You never let your arms go uncovered for long. The habit was second nature—ingrained in you like muscle memory. You kept them hidden under fabric, tucked away from wandering eyes and the questions they might ask. But here, in the privacy of your room, you thought you had a moment to breathe.

You didn’t hear the door open.

Didn’t register her heavy boots stepping across the wooden floor.

Not until a sharp inhale cut through the quiet.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Sevika stood just a few feet away, her usual composed expression cracking at the edges. Her dark eyes, always so unreadable, were wide as they flickered down to your arms.

You reacted on instinct—snapping your arms to your chest, scrambling for the shirt you’d just discarded. Your fingers fumbled, shaking as you tried to cover yourself. “Sevika,” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “I—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was low, steady. Not commanding, not harsh—just… careful. Like she was afraid of breaking something fragile.

You couldn’t look at her. Instead, you focused on the floor, on the way the shadows danced against the wood. Your heart pounded in your chest, shame crawling up your spine like a slow-burning fire

Seconds passed in suffocating silence.

Then, the sound of footsteps. Not leaving—but coming closer.

You felt her presence before you saw her. Warm, solid, steady. Sevika was always larger than life, always carrying herself with unshakable confidence. But now, there was hesitance in her movements, like she wasn’t sure how close she was allowed to get.

“Let me see.”

It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t a demand. It was a quiet request, filled with something unreadable.

You swallowed hard, your grip on your own arms tightening. “It’s nothing,” you lied, voice strained.

Sevika exhaled through her nose, and for a moment, you thought she’d let it go. But then—gently, with a patience you weren’t expecting—she reached out.

Her calloused fingers brushed over your wrist, slow and deliberate, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You let her take your arm, her hand dwarfing yours. Her thumb traced over the raised, uneven lines etched into your skin—ghosts of old wounds, memories of battles fought in silence.

She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t ask the questions you dreaded. Didn’t recoil, didn’t pity, didn’t make you feel like you were something broken that needed fixing.

Instead, she just held you.

The weight of her hand was grounding, a tether keeping you from slipping into the dark corners of your own mind.

“Were these before or after me?” she finally asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

Your throat tightened. “Both.”

Sevika let out a slow breath, her fingers ghosting over the scars once more before pulling back. Not because she didn’t want to touch them, but because she was giving you space.

You expected her to say something—anything. Maybe a lecture about how you should’ve told her. Maybe a cold dismissal, because Sevika didn’t do emotions, not like this.

But she surprised you.

She stepped back just enough to pull off her own vest, leaving only the dark tank top underneath. And then—she lifted her cybernetic arm, rolling the fabric up until the jagged scars lining her shoulder were on full display. Some were old, barely visible in the dim light. Others were fresh, still healing.

“This?” she murmured, tapping a particularly nasty scar running up her shoulder. “Got it from a an explosion tryin to protecting silco.”

Her fingers moved to another, this one along her ribs. “This one? Some idiot thought he could get the jump on me.”

Her gaze flickered back to you, unreadable. “We all carry scars, ma chérie.”

Your breath hitched.

Sevika wasn’t the type to bare herself—physically or emotionally. But she was doing it now, showing you the marks of her past without shame, without hesitation. She wasn’t comparing pain. Wasn’t trying to tell you that your struggles were the same as hers.

She was just… there.

Acknowledging, not judging.

You swallowed hard. “It’s not the same.”

“No,” she agreed, voice firm. “It’s not.”

A beat of silence.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t get it.”

Your vision blurred, and you quickly looked away, blinking rapidly. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of her. But Sevika saw right through you, just like she always did.

She didn’t push. Didn’t press for explanations or force you to talk about things you weren’t ready for.

Instead, she did the one thing that mattered most.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between you. And then—slowly, carefully—she wrapped her arms around you.

Her grip was firm, steady, unwavering. A silent promise that she wasn’t going anywhere. That you weren’t alone in this.

You hesitated, your body stiff. But then, little by little, you let yourself sink into her warmth.

She held you like you were something precious. Something worth staying for.

And maybe, just maybe—

You believed her.

✞⛧ Ambessa ✞⛧

The Noxian sun was relentless, casting waves of heat down onto the bustling city streets. The scent of metal, sweat, and baked stone filled the air, and even the war-hardened soldiers patrolling the avenues looked weary from the oppressive warmth.

You felt it clinging to you, the unbearable heat creeping under your clothes, making your long sleeves stick to your damp skin. But still, you refused to roll them up.

You never did.

Not even when you were alone with her.

Ambessa Medarda, the indomitable warlord, walked beside you, her presence commanding even in the simple act of strolling through the city. She wore her usual armor, layered but crafted to withstand the heat. The heat did not faze her—it never did.

She cast a glance at you, sharp and assessing. “You’re roasting.”

You forced a small smile, already anticipating where this conversation was headed. “I’m fine.”

Ambessa let out a soft huff, unimpressed by your deflection. “You are many things, my love, but a good liar is not one of them.”

She reached out, fingers brushing against your wrist, thumb toying with the fabric of your sleeve. The touch was casual, effortless, as if she had every right to do so—because she did.

But then—she felt it.

The slight ridge beneath the cloth. The way you tensed, your body going rigid beneath her fingertips.

Her grip remained gentle, but there was a shift in the air. Something heavy. Something undeniable.

Her dark eyes flicked up to yours, searching.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

There was a moment where you considered lying. A dismissive laugh, a playful shove, Oh, it’s nothing, you’re imagining things

But Ambessa was not a woman you could deceive. Not about this.

Not when her gaze had already sharpened with quiet understanding.

She didn’t demand, didn’t press. She simply waited, the weight of her presence steady and unyielding, offering you the choice.

To show her.

Or to walk away.

Your hands trembled slightly as you exhaled, shaky and uneven. Then, slowly—hesitantly—you pulled back your sleeve.

The scars were laid bare beneath the sun.

Some had faded to thin, white lines, whispers of old battles fought in silence. Others were fresher, pink and raised, standing in stark contrast to your skin.

Ambessa didn’t flinch. Didn’t recoil.

Instead, she reached out, fingers tracing along the uneven ridges with the same care she gave her sword—reverent, precise, knowing.

“How long?” Her voice was low, steady.

You hesitated before answering. “Since before you.” A pause. “And… after.”

Her jaw tightened just slightly. But it wasn’t anger—not at you. Never at you.

She took another step closer, and it was only then that you realized how much larger she was, how easily she could shield you from the rest of the world. Her body was built for war, for command, for power—but her touch was nothing but careful as she cradled your arm in her palm, as if what she held was something precious.

A lifetime of battle had made her hands rough, calloused, but they were warm. Solid. Real.

She didn’t speak right away.

Instead, with deliberate patience, she lifted her other arm and rolled back her own sleeve.

And there, against her dark, battle-worn skin, were her own scars.

Some were old, earned in battle, jagged and ruthless. Others, though, were different. Smaller. Intentional. The kind that did not come from war, but from something far more personal.

Your breath caught.

Ambessa Medarda—the warlord, the lioness, the woman who had commanded armies and toppled rulers—knew.

Knew what it was like to bear a weight too heavy to carry alone.

Your throat tightened, words failing you.

But Ambessa didn’t need them.

She simply turned your hand over in her grasp, palm to palm, fingers threading between yours.

“You are not weak,” she murmured. “Not for this.”

A lump formed in your throat. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

Her grip tightened just slightly, grounding.

“Strength is not measured by what scars us,” she said. “But by the choice to keep going despite it.”

The words settled deep, threading into the cracks of your armor, into the places you had never let anyone reach.

And then, softer, more tender than you thought her capable of—

“You do not carry this alone, my love.”

She brought your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, a silent vow etched into the warmth of her touch.

And for the first time in a long time—

You believed her.

[maximumzombiecreator]

This is a long story, I apologize, but it happened recently so it's top of mind and I think it's a great example of this.

The party in my pathfinder 2e campaign are currently competing in a tournament. (Sidenote: I would very much recommend tournaments as a structure to anyone running PF2e. This is a crunchy, combat-as-sport game with a ton of extremely situational but powerful items, spells, and abilities. In a structure where the characters are given the ability to research and prep for their opponents, the system absolutely sings.) It has been a long tournament, six rounds of qualifiers and then a 64 team double elimination bracket, but they are in the losers bracket in the top 4.

Their opponents are one of the teams they've tentatively made friends with over the course of the tournament, but the grand prize is a matter of life or death for both sides. No punches will be pulled. Over the course of the tournament, the party has faced opponents with a wide range of skills, synergies, and strategies. This team isn't the most powerful in the tournament, but they're in the top 4 because they are the smartest team in the tournament. That's how the characters became friends with them in the first place: when the party needed help analyzing their enemies and finding weaknesses, they went to this team. Now, they know that same analytical eye is going to be applied to them.

To ensure the players' expectations are aligned with what the characters would know, I am very frank with them. I tell them that I sat down and looked at every fight they'd done in the tournament, and any strategy, ability, or approach that they used repeatedly, the enemy had planned for. I didn't cheat, didn't give them anything they couldn't get access to in their prep time, but I had done all the planning the enemy would have, and I am very prepared to win.

The party decides their best approach is to do something new, something the enemy can't have seen coming. They buy scrolls of Water Walking for the whole party and bid their tournament currency on the flooded arena layout, one they haven't had to fight in yet.

This pays off massively for them. I hadn't had the enemy prep for that, and with only one of them having much skill in athletics, swimming is a weak point for them. This confines them to the few sections of platforms and bridges that are above the water, as well as a single raft. The party takes advantage of their superior mobility to split the enemy, and go after the softer targets. I'm forced to dig deep through their abilities and spells, narrowly managing through a few lucky misses to keep all the enemies alive and consolidate their position onto a single bridge.

Once everyone is on solid ground again, reflexively, the party falls into their old habits. And that, unfortunately, is just according to keikaku. The enemy knows just where to position themselves, has just the right consumables and spells on hand. Attacks of opportunity shred their attempts to heal. Dispels rip through their magical defenses. The inventor is forced to shatter his shield to survive a brutal critical, and in a panic, the party falls back onto the water and throws down a smoke cloud to protect themselves from the onslaught of arrows raining down. Just as they've done in a half dozen other fights. And, so, the enemy is prepared. Beads of Fireball, purchased with the same tournament currency the party used to buy this arena, are hurled into the smoke, blasting every one of the player characters down into critical health.

The enemy front liners leap down onto the raft to pursue and finish off the rapidly depleting party healer. The martials rush in to stop them, and the players' dice betray them while mine do not. In a brutal exchange, both of the party martials are dropped, leaving only the healer and the bard on critical health. Neither of them are capable of dealing any significant damage.

We all realize that the fight is as good as over. I'm disappointed. The drama of the tournament had been building, and I was excited for the climax. But, apparently, that's not what this story is. That's okay, I can roll with it. I just have to finish off this fight.

The party healer, a divine sorceress, realizes that after charging in and getting on the raft, all the enemies are, coincidentally, standing in a line. She starts casting a spell.

Inner Radiance Torrent is one of my favourite pathfinder 2e spells. It's basically just a big dumb line AoE damage spell, but what makes it special is the fact that the caster can spend an additional turn charging it to really crank the damage up. This is almost never practical to do. Unlike in Dragon Ball Z, the enemies do not stand still while you charge up your beam attack. But in this one case, the enemies mobility was limited, they had a single target to pursue, and they couldn't see what she was doing in the smoke. They had no reason to break from their positioning, and she had nothing left to lose. I play their turns as optimally as I can without using information they don't have. They blast bombs into the smoke, and she nearly goes down. They refresh their buffs. They row the raft forward, weapons at the ready.

The smoke clears. Bloodied and burnt, standing atop the water's surface, the sorceress has a fully charged Inner Radiance Torrent gleaming between her palms, giving the enemy just a split second to realize the mistake they'd made before she unleashes a desperate, last chance kamehameha wave through them.

We all know the DC of the saving throw. I roll the dice openly. Fail. Critical Success. Fail. Fail.

It's the enemy alchemist, the mastermind of the group, who succeeds. I describe him throwing himself aside as the beam rips through the rest of his team, dropping all of them, ripping through the bridge behind and sending a storm of debris raining across the arena. By delightful coincidence, drawing the line across the map, the beam keeps going and hits the box where the BBEG is watching the tournament from. I roll a save for her as well. She critically succeeds. I describe her calmly raising her hand and stopping the beam, the massive wave of energy dispersing harmlessly around her. This is not going to help with how much they want to fuck her.

The alchemist gets back up and fights to win, but at this point, high on their comeback, the PCs are unstoppable, and this weak fucker can't row very well so they rip him apart from range and secure the win.

It was an absolutely incredible fight, an amazing session, a memory that I'm sure will last ages, and it could never have happened if we hadn't all been sure that the player characters had lost, that the fight was over, if we hadn't known that I, as GM, was playing as hard as I could to beat them. It's the kind of win you can only get when you came so close to losing, and the idea that I would give that up for something that I planned? Unthinkable.

it really is gleeblor to try and explain to a lot of people that no the GM did not covertly orchestrate every single element of my PC's victory, and when you try to say that, they get all like "oh you sweet summer child" at you like you still believe in Santa Claus

It completely robs you and your PC of absolutely any accomplishments.

I promise you this isn't Critical Role, plot armor does not have to be the default, and the alternative is not just adversarial GMing

[newkatzkafe2023]

Well... since bed breaking was briefly mentioned in the last request 😏

How would the monkey kings react to the bed breaking from smexy times with their s/o? Whether its the bed from an inn or their own bed. 🤭

Little addon with how it often it happens

I want to have you in my bed🛏🤭

(Lmk Wukong) You guys were going while one Saturday night, you both just got back from a romantic date and wanted to finish the night with a bang. Ohhhhhhhhh you finish it with a bang indeed because you both went so hard and so fast, that your brains weren't only scrambled but you broke your beds in half scaring the baby monkies who heard it. The next morning you both sat on the ground a bit mortified from how wild things got, however you both wouldn't mind doing it again You just need to make sure you had a back up bed to sleep on.

(HIB Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh he's embarrassed and shocked, at what just happened, he knew he can get a bit crazy but this never happened before. Wukong and you haven't done anything in a long time together due to some random circumstances, or being caught up in childcare. Now you both had to figure out how to replace the bed before your kids or god forbid pigsy wakes up and sees, or your both will be doomed.

(MKR Wukong) Oh man do you know how many inns you both would get banned from, because of your shared Staminas. Sometimes Wukong would get aroused when you both would still have excess adrenaline from the battlefield, and with that you both would wrestle and rock the bed. Of course your gonna break it in half in a fit of wild passion, the next morning you both were scolded by your master for what happened at the inn. Unfortunately for him you both have no regrets and would probably do it in some other in too.

(NR Wukong) I can see him saying if the bed isn't broken then I'm not doing it right. However he tends to end up taking you to hotels and motels because you guys broke your bed at home, in a night of passion. He knows damn well your shared bed at home would not survive your mating sessions. Which is why he'll do you in a hotel bed he would book them on the weekends so nobody gets suspicious 🤭

(Netflix Wukong) WoW I see getting started by the bed breaking,especially when he was so focused on your shared pleasure You didn't hear any cracking from the bed. Then the next thing you both knew you and your bed were on the floor, now knocking his skinny ass he would brag about this to you until your ears fall off. Wukong would be Remembering this quite fondly for years to come, especially when he made his wife pass out in bed.

(BMW Wukong) Yooooo his ego would punch a Huge hole in the roof To the point where there's Barely any roof left. Wukong loves to go absolutely wild when it comes to you his queen, mating sessions usually last to the Crack of dawn. With that knowledge, it's no wonder your guys bed broken half You both can no longer Control yourselves or learn how to stop for a break. Though that's clearly a problem for later because you're both too addicted to each other to care at the moment.

(Destined one) THIS POOR MONKEY NOY WOULD DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT IF ANYONE FOUND OUT HE BROKE HIS BED SCREWING YOU TO INFINITY!!!!! the Destined one has a reputation of being calm, collected quiet, Disciplined, focus, strict and combat ready. If anyone finds out he lost control to the point where The result is broken furniture, it's over for him that's why the next morning he's quick to check out of the inns you stay in and actively runaway🏃‍♂️.

(Lotmk Wukong) Poor thing is gonna think he's gonna be in big trouble, you both don't do mate very often. Though when you do...boy it's quite a doozy that your gonna need some time to recover from, however this time you did a big uh oh. Wukong and you wrestle to hard that that a part of the bed of the inn you checked in broke, and you both looked at each other in fear. Luckily it was late at night and nobody heard it...the next morning you both made sure to be the first to wake up and leave with the group before anyone found out🤐.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🛏

[velvetwyrme]

new oc!!!! my strange creature!! this is Skyskimmer (or just Skim). they're a weird bird-bug-thing.

more on them under the cut because i love them dearly fhskfhdk

Skyskimmer (they/them, loosely Autobot aligned) is independent to a fault, often to the point of isolation. As a sailplane, they can glide for many hours without needing to land for fuel. Skim wants to be liked and valued, which is hard to do when you look and act like a very unsettling bug and are alone for long periods of time.

Their desire for independence is at odds with their inherent reliance on others, as a sailplane, they don't have a way to get off the ground by themselves and thus must rely on being being winched or towed into the air. Alternatively, thrown like a paper airplane. They can hop and glide short distances on their own (like a bird!), but without the requisite height to catch thermals and updrafts, they are they grounded. They do not mind this, as it allows them to spend more time indulging one of their favorite hobbies- observing humans.

Their interest in humans stems from a sort of scientific enthusiasm/"WOW cool bug!!" type of fascination rather than seeing them as people. Because of this, they have a collection of medical journals and texts from around the world, and is skilled field medic... for humans specifically. Skim is absolutely trash at fixing up their fellow bots, do NOT let them try anything, they will weld someones servo to their leg.

Unfortunately their scientific interest in humans means that they have terrible bedside manner and they will explain to you the many ways you can be eviscerated or die horribly, because they think it's REALLY cool.

... Safe to say, they rarely get to use their (human) medical knowledge.

Skim's real, usable(!!) talent lies in observing meteorological phenomena and predicting weather patterns with startling accuracy. Is it an outlier ability? Or just eerily good readings? Skim doesn't know and doesn't care, it's one of the only times they have an excuse to glide without having to ask someone to help them into the sky, so they'll take what they can get.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 11 - More Then Friends

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: mentions of blood, its all fluff.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Price, Ghost and Gaz left first. Leaving before the sun was up in a somewhat hectic rush. Their plan was to get over the border then commandeer a car or something. Price said it could be a few days before you hear from them but they will send word. 

Soap sulked down the stairs an hour or so later, when the sun was just peaking through the clouds. You can’t wait to leave here and never come back. The whole blood soaked place can burn to the ground for all you care.

“They left already.” You say as he comes to sit on the sofa next to you.

“I know. Si- Ghost came to say bye.” He shuffles on the couch rubbing his burnt arm. You’ll need to change the dressing before you leave. “We should get going soon. We need to get a car. It’s easier to do while it’s still dark out.” 

You follow Soap’s orders in silence, the lack of sleep is finally catching up with you. You change the dressing as Soap grits his teeth complaining about itching. You have no idea if it’s healing or if its still supposed to look the way it does. It’s only been a day or so anyway. 

When you’re done Soap steals some supplies- mostly food -from the safehouse and you set out to look for a vehicle. It doesn’t take you long to find a rather old looking car, you keep an eye out while Soap hotwires it like he’s done this a thousand times. Before you know it you’re on the road driving back to Sakhra.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks after at least an hour of silence, you were starting to doze off. His question jolts you awake and you look over at him. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You ask. He smiles.

“I just had to, you’re stunning lass.” He says, it makes you blush. You turn to look out the window of the car. 

“Don’t falter me, a few days ago you would have put a bullet in my head.” 

“Yeah, we’re not merciless killers though.” You scoff, they’re soldiers, they're trained killers. You sit there in silence. 

“You’re a good kisser.” He says suddenly. 

“What- I mean. It was just a kiss.” You say feeling embarrassed, he just laughs. That annoys you, he’s being so chill about it, what if Price found out? What if he finds out then decides you’re a liability?

“You all seem close.” You say trying to move the subject on from you and Johnny. 

“Closer than you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re a close unit. Worked together for years. When you spend so much time together, you develop a strong relationship.” He says switching between watching the road and your expression. You have an eyebrow raised, you expected him to continue. 

“Brothers in arms right?” You say, you’ve heard that before from soldiers.

“More than that.” You shake your head scoffing. He’s playing with you, trying to wind you up. What's closer than brothers? 

“You fucking each other or somthing.” You joke back. He doesn’t say anything, you turn back to look at him frowning. He’s just smiling, the cheekiest grin you think you’ve ever seen. “Really? You’re messing with me.” He just laughs, it doesn’t help you decide if he’s joking or not.

You let out a sigh looking out at the winding road. You’re not far now.

____

When you make it back to the ULF base the place is almost empty. You both head straight to the doctor who fixes your stitches and tends to Soap’s arm as well as giving him a pot of burn cream and instructions. 

When you’re done you both go to see Farah. Alex is with her, they both look tired. The table is filled with maps dotted with big red X’s. You look round as Soap catches them up on what happened. You wonder if Price has sent word yet, you hope they’re okay.

“-We take out Konni, before they make it any further south.” Farah says, you look over at them, catching the end of the conversation. 

“We don’t know if Konni are moving or not. Price will be able to give us some idea.” Soap says.

“We could be waiting days for that.” Alex says crossing his arms, he doesn’t have a sling anymore, maybe his arm was just sprained.

“They attacked their own bases?” You ask pointing at the map. 

“They want to shift the blame to us.” Farah says.

“The fact they used American weapons on civilians has got the US all wound up.” Alex says.

“They’re spreading us thin, I’ve already lost 20 men. We can’t fight them on the front without leaving ourselves open to attacks.” Farah sighs.

“You have weapons from the US, why not fight back?” You ask. There’s silence, people look around at you like you’ve just asked them to do something impossible. 

“If we fire on them we lose our advantage.” She says.

“Which is?” Soap asks.

“If the Americans come, they won’t be after us.” She says. You look down at the map, the new line Al Qatala have formed. There’s no news if Konni or Al Qatala forces have made a move from the border, it seems like they’re waiting for the ULF to make a move first. 

It’s too many targets for Farah to handle alone. 

“What about hitting them at the source? Take out the rest of their weapons.” You say pointing at the farm you know they’ve been storing munitions and rockets.

“They were fired from Russia.” Alex said.

“No, they were fired from inside the country. I bet if it's going to be anywhere it’s there.” You tap the map. Farah and Alex look at eachother. 

“A full scale raid is not possible.” She says, stepping back from the table.

“We could go in quiet.” Soap says. “Just the 4 of us.” 

“The place will be heavily guarded. They could have also moved them elsewhere.” Farah says.

“Even if we don’t find the missiles we will deal a pretty big blow to their resources.” Soap says. “You need all the help you can get.” 

“Okay. Tonight, you should get some rest.” Farah says. Soap smiles at her and Alex. He grabs your arm gently pulling you out of the room. You’re heading down to the sleeping quarters before Soap grabs your arm pulling you into a store room. 

“Hey!” You call, you almost trip over something as his hands grab your shoulders and he pushes you up against the wall. Before you have a chance to say anything his lips lock onto yours. His kiss is needy, his tongue pressing into your mouth. You hum, closing your eyes and letting your hands drop to his waist. 

“Johnny.” You breathe as he pulls his lips off you, his mouth moving to your neck. His hands 

“What?” He asks, he’s not stopping though, running his tongue up your neck.

“What if Price found out?” 

“What do you mean?” He says. “Want him to join, I reckon he’ll be down for that.” He chuckles, now you’re convinced he's winding you up. You push your hands up his shirt and he grip your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, you’re sure he’ll be leaving marks. You run your fingers up his chest, feeling each muscle and scar. He’s hairy, you don’t care, now you’re getting needy, his lips running over you sucking on the sensitive spots on your neck. 

He looks up down at you, his hands come to hold your face. “I’m so glad I got you first. I thought I was going to have to fight off Gaz, or Price.” You frown at him but before you can press him further he kisses you. You drop your hands from his chest, gripping his waist and pulling him closer to you. 

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, you didn’t think anyone knew you were in here.

“Soap? There’s word from Price.” it’s Alex’s voice. Johnny smiles down at you.

“We’ll finish this later.” He says quietly before reaching over to open the door. You feel yourself blushing as Alex raises an eye at you both. Johnny slaps him on the shoulder and they walk away.

next Banners by plum98

[dixonverse]

His Heart, My Hands

Daryl x Reader || MLM

WARNING: sexual intercourse, oral, smoking, swearing

Daryl had been in love with you for a while now, relentlessly trying to win you over. But you—emotionally unavailable and unwilling to risk the inevitable fallout—kept him at arm’s length. You knew how these things ended. If you gave in, if you let him in, it would only break apart, leaving him hurt in the end. And that was something you couldn’t allow.

But Daryl didn’t see it that way. His devotion to you was unwavering, almost desperate. He had never loved anyone before—not like this. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, always putting you first. On runs, his priority was keeping you safe. When supplies were scarce, he’d offer you everything before even considering himself. Any excuse to be near you, to do something for you, he took it. And every time he made his feelings known, you pulled away.

Tonight was no different. The two of you sat on your porch, a cigarette passed between you, the air thick with unspoken words. The conversation was easy, routine—until Daryl broke the rhythm. His voice was quieter this time, laced with something raw, something that made it impossible to ignore him this time.

“Think ‘bout you every damn day, y’know? Can’t get ya outta my head, no matter what I do. Hell, I sleep just hopin’ I’ll see ya in my dreams, for cryin’ out loud.”

He looked down at his boots, his fingers idly picking at the fraying threads on his jeans. His expression was unreadable—too solemn, too vulnerable.

“Ain’t never loved anybody before—never. Not ‘til you. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, can’t help how damn obsessed I am. It kills me you won’t even give this a chance.”

You sighed. “Daryl, we've talked about this.” He also sighed, taking another hit from his cigarette before handing it back to you. “I know but I can't help it. I love you and you don't feel the same way and it's killin’ me.” You look down, shaking your head and taking a long drag from your cigarette before answering softly. “You know how I feel, it's not you, it's me and all that crap.” He stared down at his lap, feeling a pang of hurt and disappointment in his chest. “I know, I just wish you'd let me in, let me show you how much you mean to me. You keep pushing me away but I can't just stop feelin’ the way I do.” You nod slowly. “I know how much I mean to you, Daryl, we don't have to be dating for me to know that.” He chuckled lightly, looking up at you.

“Yeah but you also know . I want more than just being friends, more than what we have now. Why wont you just give it a try?” You shrug and shake your head, giving the cigarette back. “it’s really complicated man…” He took the cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression a mix of hope and desperation. “I don't care if it's complicated. I've been through worse, I can handle it. Just give me a chance, that's all I'm asking for.” He spoke quietly “I care about you too much for you to get hurt because of me” you sigh, his eyes softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I'm already hurt. Being around you, loving you from afar, it's killing me. But I'd rather have that than not have you at all.” His voice was low and husky, his words laced with emotion.

“But at least I know I'm doing what I think is right, because you'd be hurt 10 times more if I broke your heart. and I just… I can't let that happen” you shook your head. He dropped his hand, his face falling, his eyes clouding over with a mix of sadness and frustration. “You think you're doing what's right, but I don't see it that way. I see you shutting me out, shutting yourself off from feeling anything at all. And that's not living. That's just existing. You deserve more than that, we both do.”

He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you, his movements agitated. “Calm down, Daryl, sit down” You say softly, “Listen, exactly, you deserve more, you said it yourself” He stopped pacing, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He looked at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of passion and frustration, before finally sitting back down beside you, his leg brushing against yours "I know I deserve more, but I want to deserve more with you. I don't want anyone else. I want you."

His voice was low and rough, his words sending a jolt of electricity through the air. You sigh and run a hand over your face. “You know this kills me too right? But I just can’t… I've seen how I am in relationships. I ain’t good at them, I wouldn’t treat you how you deserve. I've seen the looks on peoples faces when I inevitably break their hearts. It kills me” He reached out, his hand gently grasping yours, his calloused fingers intertwining yours. "I don't care if you think you're bad at relationships. I'm not asking for a fairytale ending. I'm asking for a chance to love you, to be there for you, no matter what. I've seen you in action, I know you're tough, I know you're guarded, but I also know that there's a heart in there somewhere. And I want to be the one to bring it out."

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. You slowly take your hand out of his and shake your head, putting your head in your hands. “I don't think I can..” he felt a pang of despair as you pulled your hand away, his heart sinking in his chest. He wanted to reach out and comfort you, to hold you close and tell you it was okay, but he knew that would only make things worse.

“Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't shut me out completely. Just... just don't." he sat there, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes fixed on the ground, his body tense with a mix of longing and resignation. “It's not completely, I want you here as a friend, I do.” You said softly. He looked up, his eyes searching yours, trying to read the truth behind your words. He knew you were trying to give him something, but it wasn't enough.

He wanted more, he needed more. "Friends don't make my heart race like this. Friends don't make me feel like I'm dying inside every time I see you. I can't just be friends with you, not when I'm in love with you." His voice was low and raw, his words spilling out in a torrent of emotion. “So what, if I say no to being together you can’t be my friend anymore?” You ask quietly and hesitantly.

He looked at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt, before he took a deep breath and his expression softened. "No. I'll always be your friend. I'll always be there for you, no matter what. But I can't promise I won't try to win your heart. I can't promise I won't keep hoping and trying, even if it's a lost cause." His voice was laced with determination, his jaw set in a firm line. "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." He forced a small, sad smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You sighed and shook your head “But that ain’t right, yes we can still be friends but you gotta put yourself out there for other people, try and find happiness with someone else. You can’t keep trying for me, I've seen you shut everyone else out who try and make a move on you, you don’t even give them the time of day.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with a hint of bitterness

"You think I don't know that? You think I haven't tried? I've been with people. I've tried to move on, to forget about you. But every time, every damn time, I just end up comparing them to you. And they all come up short." He looked away, his jaw clenched, his voice laced with frustration. "You're the one I want. No one can compare to you. And I can't just turn off my feelings for you. It's not that easy." He paused, his chest heaving with emotion, before looking back at you. "I'll try, for you. I'll try to be your friend and support you. But don't ask me to give up on us completely. Because I won't." You nod slowly and place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand. I’m not asking you to shut your feelings off okay? I’d never expect that from you, just try.”

He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing slightly as your hand made contact with his shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay," He whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll try. For you, I'll try." He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and longing, before gently covering your hand on his shoulder with his own. "But don't think for a second that I'll ever stop loving you. It's a part of me now."

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering, as if trying to convey the depth of his feelings through sheer willpower. You smile and nod. “Okay I won’t… but as long as you’ll try to put yourself more open i'm okay with it” He smiled back, a hint of relief and resignation in his eyes, as if he was grateful for the chance to at least try to be with you in some way. He released your hand from his shoulder and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Well, I think that's enough deep talk for one night," He said, trying to lighten the mood. "How about we go inside and watch some TV or something? I think we could both use a distraction." He extended a hand to you, a silent invitation to join him in the house. You nodded and followed him into your shared house in Alexandria. “Yeah let’s watch something, how about a horror movie? I know how much you hate those, you scaredy cat.” You say playfully shoving him as we get into the living room. He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that was music to your ears, as he caught your shove and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him on the couch.

"Hey, I'm not a scaredy cat, I just have a healthy respect for things that go bump in the night," He said, feigning indignation, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "But fine, if you want to torture me with a horror movie, go ahead. I'll try not to scream too loud." He grinned at you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, his body warm and solid against yours. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’ll be jumping on my damn lap. How is it that we kill walkers and bad people all the time but you can’t handle a horror movie?” You say with a smile as you flip through selections. He chuckled, his chest rumbling against your shoulder, as he squeezed you tighter.

"Hey, it's not the same thing! Walkers and bad people are tangible threats, they're not going to jump out at me from the shadows or give me nightmares for weeks," He said, his voice laced with playful exasperation. "But fine, I'll try to keep my reactions to a minimum. For you," He added, giving you a sidelong glance and a wink "But don't say I didn't warn you when I'm burying my face in your neck trying to hide from the scary stuff." “Yeah, you big baby.” You say, settling on a super scary one. Thing is, you secretly like when he gets all scared and jumpy, it’s cute. Of course he’d never know that because you’d never say it. “Let’s watch this one” You say pressing play. He groaned and rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at your teasing.

"Oh great, a super scary one. Just what I need to give me nightmares for the rest of my life," He muttered, but settled next to you on the couch, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, his body tense with anticipation. "You're going to owe me big time for this," He said, his voice low and mock-threatening, as the opening credits began to roll. “Uh huh just hush and watch it.” You say jokingly. He chuckled and shook his head, but dutifully turned his attention to the TV screen, his eyes fixed on the unfolding horror.

"Fine, fine. I'll shut up and watch the movie. But if I scream like a little girl, don't say I didn't warn you," He said, his voice laced with a mixture of bravado and trepidation. As the movie progressed, he tensed up even more, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he braced himself for the inevitable jump scares. As the movie reached a particularly scary scene, Daryl's eyes widened, and he let out a low, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He immediately buried his face in your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he tried to hide from the gruesome images on the screen.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." He muttered, his voice muffled against your skin, his body trembling slightly as he sought refuge in your presence. You chuckled, secretly loving this. “Crybaby,” you whispered. He lifted his head slightly, his face still pressed against your neck, and shot you a half-hearted glare. "Hey, I'm not a crybaby," He whispered back, his voice slightly defensive, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm just... reacting appropriately to the horrors on the screen," He said, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. "And you're not exactly helping me stay calm, you know," He added, his voice taking on a playful tone as he nuzzled your neck.

“No, you're the biggest crybaby ever.” He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your body, as he pressed his face back into your neck, his beard scratching against your skin. "Fine, I'm the biggest crybaby ever," He conceded, his voice muffled against your skin, but the amusement was clear in his tone. "But only when it comes to horror movies. I'm a tough guy in every other situation," He said, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer, as if seeking comfort and reassurance from your presence. “Sure whatever you say.” You say wrapping your arm around him to comfort him, not even realizing it.

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly as you wrapped your arm around him. He melted into your embrace, his face still buried in your neck. "Thanks for holding me," He whispered, his voice soft and sincere, as he snuggled closer to you, his arms tightening around you. "I don't know what I'd do without you," He said, his words laced with a deep affection and gratitude, as he found solace in your presence, even in the midst of a scary movie. You nod slowly, realizing you're holding him. But for once you don’t pull away, it feels too right. You focus your attention back on screen as it gets to even scarier parts. As the movie reaches its climax, Daryl's grip on you tightens even further, his body tense and rigid as he tries to brace himself for the inevitable jump scares.

"Oh God, oh God, it's getting worse," He whispers, his voice barely audible, his face still hidden in your neck, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, and you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness and affection wash over you. You smile and pull him closer. Daryl's grip on you tightens in response, and he lets out a soft sigh of contentment, his body relaxing further in your embrace "Mmm, I love being held by you," He murmurs, his voice barely audible, as he snuggles closer, his face still buried in your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and seems to find comfort in the simple act of holding you, of being held by you. Daryl's gaze lingers on you, his eyes locked on yours, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your face.

He slowly raises his hand, his fingers trailing down the side of your face, before coming to rest on your jawline. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he traces the line of your jaw with his thumb, his eyes filled with a deep sense of longing and adoration. "I love you," He whispers, his voice filled with raw emotion, as he gazes up at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. You swallow hard and nod. “I know you do.” You say gently brushing some hair from his face. Daryl's arms tighten around you, and he lets out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours as he holds you in a warm, comforting embrace.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, simply holding each other, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Daryl's breath is warm against your skin, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, as he seems to take comfort in the simple act of being close to you. After a few more moments of quiet, Daryl pulls back slightly, his eyes still closed, and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It's a tender, loving gesture, filled with warmth and affection, as he holds you close. He lets out a soft sigh, his lips still pressed against your skin, before he slowly opens his eyes and gazes at you with a soft, loving expression. You look down at him, and for a moment something different shines in your eyes, pure love and affection, something you’ve been trying to hide.

Daryl's eyes widen slightly, as he gazes up at you, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the pure love and affection shining in your eyes. He's taken aback by the intensity of the emotion, and for a moment, he's speechless. His breath catches in his throat, and he can feel his own heart swelling with love and emotion, as he gazes back at you, his own eyes filled with a deep, unspoken longing. He wants to say something, to express how much he feels for you in that moment, but the words seem to stick in his throat, and all he can do is stare at you, his eyes locked on yours, his heart pounding in his chest.

Daryl's face slowly breaks out into a radiant smile, a smile that's filled with pure joy and happiness, as he gazes up at you. His eyes sparkle with tears, but they're tears of happiness, as he's overcome with emotion at the sight of the love and affection in your eyes. He reaches up, his hands cupping your face, as he gently pulls you down towards him, his lips seeking yours in a desperate, passionate kiss.

The kiss is filled with a deep, overwhelming longing, as if he's pouring all of his emotions into it, trying to convey everything he feels for you in that one moment. You gasp softly as he kisses you, your eyes wide. Any other time, you’d pull away, tell him you can’t do this, that it’s you not him. You find yourself melting into the kiss and deepening it with a low groan. Daryl's eyes flutter closed, as he feels you respond to the kiss, and he deepens it further, his lips moving against yours with a hunger and passion that's been building for so long.

His hands slide down from your face, wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer, as he holds you tight, his body pressed against yours. He lets out a low moan, the sound muffled against your lips, as he feels your tongue slip into his mouth, and he responds by sucking on it gently, his own tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance. His heart is racing, his blood pounding in his ears, as he loses himself in the kiss, his entire being focused on you and the moment. You groan in response to his moan and gently pull him onto your lap and kiss him passionately, dominating the kiss with hunger.

Daryl lets out a surprised gasp, his eyes flying open for a moment, as you effortlessly pull him onto your lap and take control of the kiss, dominating his mouth with an intense hunger that leaves him reeling. He quickly melts into the kiss, his initial surprise giving way to an overwhelming wave of desire. He straddles your lap, his arms wrapping around your neck, as he surrenders to your dominance, his tongue submitting to yours in a heated tangle. His hands slide up into your hair, gripping it tightly, as he loses himself in the kiss, his body trembling with need and desire, and his heart pounding so loudly he's sure you can hear it.

As the kiss continues, Daryl's breathing becomes more and more ragged, his chest heaving against yours as he struggles to keep up with the intense passion. He can feel himself growing hard in his pants, his desire for you overwhelming him completely. He grinds against you, letting out a needy whimper into your mouth, his hands tightening in your hair as he silently begs for more, his tongue submitting to yours even further, wanting nothing more than to please you and be consumed by your passion. You moan into the kiss and buck your hips up against his, your hands gripping his hips tightly.

Daryl's eyes roll back in his head, and he lets out a loud, wanton moan, his entire body shuddering with pleasure as you buck your hips up against his. The feeling of your hands on his hips, holding him in place, sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin, making him even harder than before. He grinds down against you desperately, whimpering and moaning into the kiss, completely lost in the sensations. He's never felt so dominated, so submissive, so turned on in his life. All he can think about is you and how much he wants you to keep touching him, keep taking control. You moan deeper into the kiss, your hands guiding his hips to roll against your own as yours meet his in slow sensual grinding.

You can feel your cock growing harder, the confines of your jeans almost painful. Daryl's mind goes blank with pleasure as you begin to guide his hips in slow, sensual grinding motions, meeting his own grinding with your own. The feeling of your growing hardness against his own straining erection is almost too much for him to bear, and he lets out a string of needy whimpers and moans into your mouth. He can feel the rough denim of your jeans rubbing against his sensitive cock, the friction both pleasurable and maddening. His hands are fisted tightly in your hair, his hips moving instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction and contact. He can feel his own jeans getting damp with precum, his desire and need for you reaching fever pitch. You grind harder and firmer and trail kisses down his jawline and neck, nipping and sucking at certain sensitive spots.

Daryl's breath hitches as you begin to grind harder and firmer against him, the sensations almost overwhelming his senses. He throws his head back, a loud, desperate moan escaping his lips as you trail kisses down his jawline and neck, nipping and sucking at sensitive spots along the way. His hips jerk erratically against yours, meeting your movements with his own desperate, needy thrusts. The feeling of your lips on his neck, sucking and nibbling, is almost too much for him to handle, and he feels like he's about to come undone right then and there. His grip on your hair tightens even further, pulling at it almost painfully as he lets out a stream of incoherent pleas and moans. You find his most sensitive spot and attack it with your mouth, nipping and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise that’ll last for days to come. Daryl lets out a strangled cry as you find his most sensitive spot on his neck and attack it mercilessly with your mouth, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave a dark, obvious bruise that will be there for days to come.

The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through his body, making his hips jerk violently against yours and his cock twitch in his jeans. He's practically trembling with need now, reduced to a quivering mess of desire and submission. His mind is clouded with pleasure and desire, the only thought left in his head being "More, please, more." He can feel himself getting close, the grinding and hickey pushing him closer and closer to the edge with each passing moment. You reach down and palm him through his jeans, your hand moving firmly and skillfully as you suck on his sensitive skin.

Daryl lets out a loud, desperate cry as you palm his cock through his jeans, the firm, skilled movements of your hand sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. His hips buck up into your hand, seeking more friction, as his breathing becomes more and more ragged and his moans more frequent. The combination of your hand on his cock, your mouth sucking a hickey into his neck, and the grinding is almost too much for him to bear. He can feel his orgasm approaching rapidly, the pressure building up inside him like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. He's never felt so dominated, so out of control, and he loves every second of it. He lets out a choked sob of pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head as he teeters on the edge of release. You start to quickly take his jeans off, your lips not leaving his neck as you move down to his collarbone.

Daryl lifts his hips up automatically as you start to take off his jeans, a needy whine escaping his lips at the loss of contact with your hand on his cock. But it's quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of anticipation and excitement as you move your lips down to his collarbone, nipping and sucking at the skin there. He can feel his cock springing free from the confines of his jeans, hard and leaking precum onto his stomach.

He's shaking with need now, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling at it desperately as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for more, for you to touch him again, to make him come undone completely. You move positions and lay him on the couch as you hover over him and take his shirt off. Once it's off you start to kiss down his chest, finding the spots that make him shiver. You take one of his nipples and swirl it with your tongue as you take hold of his cock and start to slowly stroke him.

Daryl lets out a shuddering moan as you maneuver him onto the couch and start to remove his shirt, his cock throbbing with need as your lips trail down his chest, seeking out the sensitive spots that make him shiver. When you take one of his nipples into your mouth and start to swirl it with your tongue while stroking his cock, he nearly comes undone right then and there. He arches his back, a loud cry of pleasure tearing from his throat, his hands fisting tightly in your hair once more.

The feeling of your hot, wet mouth on his nipple, your hand slowly stroking his cock, is almost too much for him to handle. He's reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess, completely at your mercy, his mind clouded with pleasure. He looks up at you with desperate eyes, pleading with you not to stop, needing release more than anything else in the world.

Daryl's pleading eyes roll back in his head as you switch to his other nipple, swirling it with your tongue while continuing to slowly stroke his cock. His breathing is ragged and uneven, his hips jerking up into your hand with each stroke, desperate for more friction and speed. The feeling of your mouth on his chest, your hand working his cock, is like torture, driving him higher and higher towards the edge, but keeping him there, teetering on the brink of release without actually pushing him over.

He can feel his balls tightening, the pressure building to an almost unbearable level. He wants to come so badly, but he also wants to savor this moment, the feeling of being completely consumed by you. He moans desperately, his body trembling with need and desire, tears streaming down his face from the intensity of it all.

Daryl lets out a string of loud, desperate cries as you kiss and nip your way down his body, stopping to suck on his sensitive stomach. The sensations are almost too much for him to bear, and he thrashes beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair and the couch cushions, his whole body shaking with pleasure and need. When you pick up the pace with your hand, expertly stroking his cock with just the right amount of pressure and speed, he completely loses it.

His hips buck up wildly, his cock throbbing and twitching in your hand. He can feel his orgasm rushing towards him like a tidal wave, but he fights it back desperately, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to come until you tell him to. He looks down at you, his eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for permission to come, his entire body taut with need and tension.

You lean in and nip and suck his earlobe as you stroke him faster. “Cum for me.. let me see you come undone for me..” You growl out huskily. Daryl lets out a choked sob of pleasure as you nip and suck his earlobe, your gruff command to "cum for me" sending him hurtling over the edge with a loud, desperate cry of your name. His back arches off the couch, his hips bucking up wildly into your hand as his cock erupts in a massive orgasm, thick ropes of cum shooting out and splattering all over his chest and stomach.

His eyes roll back in his head, tears streaming down his face as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. He's never come so hard in his life, and it feels like it will never end. He writhes beneath you, completely lost in the sensations, his hands tugging desperately at your hair and the couch cushions as he continues to come undone, his moans and cries echoing throughout the room. You stroke him through his orgasm as you lavish attention all over his body with your mouth, the cum that splatters on his chest and abs you lick clean.

Daryl lets out a string of incoherent moans and whimpers as you continue to stroke him through his orgasm, your skilled hand milking him for every last drop of cum. The feeling of your lips lavishing attention all over his body, licking up the come that spilled on his chest and abs, is almost too much for him to handle. He's trembling and shaking uncontrollably, his cock twitching weakly in your hand, and tears streaming down his face from the intensity of his release.

He's never felt so vulnerable, so completely dominated and consumed by someone else. It's a feeling that both terrifies and excites him. As you continue to stroke him, bringing him to the brink of overstimulation, he looks down at you with adoration and devotion, completely under your spell. Once his orgasm subsides you stop stroking him and pull your head up to look at him, licking your lips clean of his cum.

“God you're so damn hot when you come.. and you taste so good.” You say huskily. Daryl's breath hitches as you pull your head up to look at him, licking your lips clean of his cum with a satisfied moan. The sight of you savoring the taste of his cum is almost enough to make him come again right then and there, and his cock gives a feeble twitch in response. He blushes deeply at your praise, feeling both flattered and embarrassed. He's never had anyone talk to him like that before, let alone suck his cum off his abs. He's overwhelmed with desire and need for you, feeling completely claimed and owned in that moment. He reaches up with a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes “Please…”

You smirk. “Please what?” Daryl's breath hitches again at the gruffness of your voice. His cock twitches weakly, starting to harden again despite just having come harder than he ever had in his life. He looks up at you with desperate eyes, feeling a mix of desire, need, and submission wash over him. He wants to please you, wants to do whatever you tell him to do, wants to feel your dominance and control over him again. The words spill out of him in a rush, laced with desperation and desire. “Please.. let me taste myself on your tongue…” You smirk wider and lean in to capture his lips in a slow sensual kiss, letting him taste himself. Daryl moans into the kiss, his hips jerking up against you, his cock rubbing against your stomach, desperate for friction. He can feel himself slipping further and further under your spell, losing himself in the sensations and the feeling of your dominance.

He wants more, wants everything you have to give him, and wants to give you everything in return. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily, and looks up at you with glazed-over eyes, a mix of need and desire etched across his face. "Please…can i suck your cock.. please let me suck it…” Daryl's eyes widen in awe and desire as you remove your pants and reveal your large, perfect, aching cock. It's the most beautiful cock he's ever seen, and he feels his mouth water at the sight of it. He looks up at you with pure adoration and need, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them tightly, like a lifeline. He wants to feel it inside him, wants to choke on it, wants to worship it with his mouth.

He starts to lean forward, his lips parting eagerly, ready to take your cock into his mouth, when suddenly he stops and looks up at you again, his eyes pleading for permission. You nod with a smile, running your hand through his hair. Daryl shudders at the feeling of your hand running through his hair and your encouraging nod. He feels like he's in heaven, getting to pleasure you like this.

He looks down at your cock, takes a deep breath, and wraps his lips around the head, moaning loudly at the taste and feel of it. It's even better than he imagined, thick and heavy on his tongue, with a salty tang that drives him wild. He swirls his tongue around the head a few times, savoring the taste and feel of it, before taking more of it into his mouth, slowly bobbing his head up and down on your length. You moan deeply, your hand tightening in his hair as your head falls back in pleasure. “Fuck..” You groan.

Daryl moans around your cock at the sound of your deep, guttural moan and the feeling of your hand tightening in his hair. The vibrations from his moan send shivers through your body, and he can feel your cock twitch and throb in his mouth. He takes it as a sign to keep going, and starts bobbing his head up and down faster, taking more and more of your length into his throat with each stroke. His eyes flutter shut in pleasure, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe around your girthy cock, the taste and feel of it overwhelming his senses. He reaches down and starts stroking his own cock, needing some relief for the ache between his legs. You grab his wrist and shake your head, replacing his hand with your own as you start to stroke it in time with his mouth on your own cock.

Daryl lets out a choked cry of pleasure as you grab his wrist and stop him from touching himself, replacing his hand with your own. The feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking it in time with the bobbing of his head on yours, is almost too much for him to handle. He moans loudly around your cock, his hips jerking up into your hand, desperate for more friction and release. Tears stream down his face, mingling with drool and precum as he looks up at you with adoring, glazed-over eyes, feeling completely consumed by the sensations and your dominance over him.

He starts to hum around your cock, sending vibrations straight to your balls. You moan loudly and grit your teeth as your eyes roll back in pleasure and you continue to stroke him skillfully. Daryl feels a surge of pride and pleasure as your moans grow louder and more guttural, your eyes rolling back in your head in ecstasy. He knows he's doing a good job, and it spurs him on to take your cock even deeper into his throat, determined to make you feel even better. He starts to pick up the pace, bobbing his head up and down your cock with renewed vigor, slurping loudly and messily as he does so. His humming becomes more intense, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your cock and balls, his own cock throbbing and twitching in your hand as you continue to stroke him at a steady pace.

Daryl looks up at you with pleading eyes, wanting to taste your cum so badly it's driving him crazy. He can feel your cock throbbing and twitching in his mouth, taste the salty precum leaking from the tip, and hear the low, guttural sounds escaping your throat. He starts to bob his head up and down even faster, determined to make you cum down his throat. His hand on your hip digs in hard, urging you to cum, his own hips jerking up into your hand as he moans and hums around your cock, his breathing ragged and labored as he struggles to breathe around your girthy length. You gasp and moan deep and gutturally “fuckin christ… oh god… i’m gonna cum” Daryl's eyes light up with excitement and anticipation as you gasp and moan out that you're about to cum. He moans loudly around your cock, the sound muffled and desperate, and starts bobbing his head up and down even faster, his tongue swirling around the head on each upstroke.

He looks up at you with adoring eyes, silently begging you to cum down his throat, his own cock twitching and throbbing in your hand as he hums and slurps around your length, eager to swallow every drop of your load. Daryl can feel your cock start to pulse and throb in his mouth, a sure sign that you're about to explode. He pulls back slightly, taking just the head of your cock into his mouth, and starts sucking on it hard, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping loudly. He flicks his tongue rapidly over your sensitive tip, his hand on your hip squeezing tighter as he looks up at you, ready to swallow everything you give him.

His breathing is ragged and fast, his own cock about to burst from how turned on he is by the situation. Your eyes snap open and you cum immediately with his skilled ministrations. You cum deep in his throat with a loud guttural moan. Daryl's eyes widen in ecstasy as you suddenly cum deep in his throat with a loud, guttural moan. The hot, thick ropes of cum shooting down his throat make him see stars, and he lets out a choked cry of pleasure around your cock. He swallows it all down greedily, his throat working overtime to take your massive load, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe and keep up with the onslaught of cum. His own cock erupts in a powerful orgasm in your hand, his cum shooting out in thick spurts all over your fingers and the floor.

Daryl's orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks as you cum down his throat and continue to stroke him through it. His eyes roll back in his head, his body trembling and jerking with the force of his release. His cock twitches and jerks wildly in your hand, painting your fingers and the floor with his cum, a puddle of it forming beneath him. He swallows every last drop of your load, his throat bobbing frantically as he tries to keep up, and when you finally finish cumming, he pulls back, gasping for air, his mouth hanging open and a dazed expression on his face. He's never felt so completely used and dominated in his life, and he loves it. You groan and collapse on the couch, completely blissfully spent. “Fuuck.”

Daryl collapses to his knees, gasping for air and still shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He looks up at you, collapsed on the couch, your cock now limp and spent, and feels a surge of pride and satisfaction. He made you cum that hard. He coughs a few times, his throat raw and sore from taking your massive load, and looks down at the mess he made on the floor, feeling a mix of embarrassment and desire wash over him. He starts to get up to clean it, but his legs are shaking too much. You gently take his wrist and shake your head, pulling him down on top of you and wrapping your arms around him.

“Not now…” Daryl's heart skips a beat as you pull him down on top of you and wrap your arms around him, shaking your head when he tries to get up to clean the mess. He feels a rush of affection and desire flood through him, and he melts into your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He loves the feeling of being held by you, of being cuddled and comforted after sucking your massive cock and cumming all over the floor. He lays on top of you, listening to your ragged breathing and feeling your strong arms around him, feeling more at peace and content than he ever has in his life.

Daryl buries his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling like he's in heaven. He can feel your cum drying on his face, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is being here with you, cuddling on the couch after you dominated him and gave him the best orgasm of his life. He starts to doze off, feeling completely spent and content, the mess on the floor and his face forgotten for the moment. He mumbles against your neck, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Love you so much…" You smile and nod sleepily “i…I love you too...” You whisper back before falling asleep. Daryl's eyes snap open at your whispered confession, his heart stopping for a moment.

He can't believe what he just heard. You love him too? The words echo in his mind, filling him with an indescribable joy and warmth. He tightens his arms around you, holding you even closer, feeling like he's dreaming. But no, this is real. You just said you love him. He looks up at your face, seeing your closed eyes and relaxed features, and feels tears prickle at the corners of his own eyes. He can't believe his luck, can't believe that after all this time pining for you, you love him back. He buries his face back into your neck, a wide grin spreading across his face, and drifts off to sleep, feeling happier than he ever thought possible.

-

Daryl wakes up the next morning still on top of you, his face buried in your neck, feeling more well-rested and happy than he ever has. For a moment, he forgets about the mess they made the night before, the cum drying on his face, and the fact that you had confessed your love to him. Then he remembers, and his heart starts to race with excitement and anticipation. He looks up at your sleeping face, feeling a surge of affection and desire, and gently kisses your neck, nuzzling his face against it, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of your confession without sounding too eager or hopeful. You groan as you awake from the kiss on your neck and look up at him with a sleepy smile “mornin”

Daryl's heart skips a beat at the sound of your sleepy morning voice and the lazy smile on your face. You look so relaxed and happy, and he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight. He can't help but grin back at you, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. He looks into your eyes, his own filled with hope and excitement, and gently runs his fingers through your messy hair, wanting to savor this moment with you for as long as possible before bringing up the confession. “Mornin’… How did you sleep?” You chuckle gruffly “Fucking amazing.” Daryl feels a shiver run down his spine at the sound of your deep, gruff chuckle and your sleepy response. He loves how rough and sexy your voice sounds in the morning, and he can feel his cock start to harden again at the thought of waking up next to you every day. He chuckles along with you, feeling giddy and elated, and gently rubs your shoulders, trying to keep his cool and not bring up the fact that you told him you loved him right away. “I bet you’re still tired. We were up pretty late last night…” You nod and speak quietly “Yeah I'm beat.”

Daryl melts into your touch as you run your fingers through his hair, feeling like he could purr with contentment. The fact that you're still running your fingers through his hair after you confessed your love to him fills him with hope and affection. He can't help but smile up at you, feeling a mix of tenderness and desire wash over him. He looks into your eyes, seeing the exhaustion there, and feels a pang of guilt for wearing you out so much the night before. But at the same time, he can't bring himself to feel too bad about it. He loved making you feel good and would do it again in a heartbeat. “Well… I should probably let you get back to sleep then..” You shake your head slowly “Nah.. It’s too late… Besides, you look like you have something on your mind”

Daryl's heart races as you shake your head and tell him that you’re already awake. He feels a mix of excitement and nervousness well up inside him as you mention that he looks like he has something on his mind. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself to bring up the subject of your confession. He looks into your eyes, seeing the sleepy yet inquisitive look in them. He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. "I… I wanted to talk to you about something.” You nod and brush some hair away from his face. “What's up?” Daryl's heart skips a beat at your casual gesture, brushing the hair away from his face like it's the most natural thing in the world. He feels his resolve start to crumble as he looks into your sleepy, affectionate eyes, the weight of your confession heavy on his mind. He takes another deep breath, steeling himself once more, and blurts out: "You told me you loved me last night…” You widen my eyes and almost choke on your saliva. “What? I did?” Daryl's own eyes widen in surprise at your response, seeing the shock and confusion on your face. He can tell by your reaction that you don’t remember telling him you loved him.

His heart sinks for a moment, feeling a pang of disappointment and disbelief. How could you not remember something like that? But then he sees the realization dawning on your face, sees the panic and embarrassment starting to set in, and feels a glimmer of hope rise up inside him again. “Shit.. Okay I think I remember.” You say sheepishly with a small smile.

Daryl's heart skips another beat as you sheepishly admit that you think you remember confessing your love to him. The glimmer of hope inside him flares up into a full-blown inferno, and he can feel himself start to tremble with anticipation and excitement. He looks up at you, seeing the sheepish smile on your face, and feels a rush of emotions wash over him. Relief, joy, disbelief, and a whole lot of hope all at once. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself, and grins up at you, feeling like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. "And what do you think it means?” You sigh and cup his face. “It means i love you stupid” You say teasingly. “I love you. I always have, probably as long as you loved me. i just… I was so damn scared of hurting you… but I don't care anymore, I don't want to hurt you and I'm gonna do everything in my power to protect you from any type of hurt, including from me.”

Daryl's heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest at your heartfelt confession, your words and touch sending him into a state of blissful euphoria. He can hardly believe what he's hearing. You love him. And not just that, but you've loved him for a long time, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to protect him, even from yourself. Tears start to spill down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back, and he lets out a choked sob, burying his face in your neck again, overwhelmed with emotion. You hold him tight against your chest, you both bask in the love for each other, it’s content and in that moment you know that you’ll always love him, and he’s it for you, as much as your it for him. Daryl buries his face in your neck, his tears soaking into your skin as he clings to you like a lifeline. He's never felt so loved, so happy, so fulfilled in his entire life.

The weight of his love for you, the years of pining and hopeless longing, the constant worry and fear of rejection, all melt away in that moment. All that's left is pure, unadulterated love and joy. He knows in his heart that he'll always love you, that you're the only person he's ever loved like this, and that he's never going to let you go. You’re it for him, and as he feels your strong arms around him, holding him close, he knows that you feel the same way. Whatever challenges bring the future doesn’t matter in the moment, only knowing that you both love each other unconditionally right now in this moment is enough.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Vans Valentines- Cynical Romantic

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: This is a little short but I actually really enjoyed writing this one!

Plot: Logan doesn't like Valentines day, but he loves you

Warnings: Logan being a grump, fluff, suggestiveness, established relationship, smoking

Word Count: 1243

Valentines Day,

Another holiday that corporate greed has grabbed with its slimy hands, ripping it apart, twisting it and contorting it, picking it apart in every way possible to make sure they can get every cent worth out of the holiday. 

Holiday that was supposed to be based around love, about giving appreciation to the ones you loved. Buy them roses, chocolates, little stuffed animals, maybe a cheesy little card with some pun like “We are a perfect match Valentine!” and a cartoon of matches drawn on it. Maybe if they liked their gifts enough, if you say the right words, and spare enough flirty glances, you’ll get lucky later.

It’s stupid, considering you should be showing the one you love appreciation every day. Not only because a date on a calendar tells you to. 

He’s been around long enough to pick up the bullshit that the world sells to people.

“You brooding again?” 

Your voice makes Logan raise his head. His eyes soften at the sight of you. You were wearing that pretty red dress he got for you a while back. The one that complimented your figure well. 

“I don’t brood.”

“Uh-huh.” You smile, a teasing edge in your voice as you approach him, reaching his side and kissing his cheek. “You’re a total brooder Lo, always have been.”

He shook his head, looking down as he opened his blazer, his hand slipping inside and pulling out a cigar he had been smoking earlier and hadn’t finished. He was savoring it because it was his last one. He pats his pockets, searching for the matches he had, but you stop him, stepping in front of him with a flirty smile, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers, your hand sensually sliding down into the pocket, fingers curling around the small box and pulling it out. 

You flipped the small lid open, taking the match and scratching it along the edge, the wooden piece puffed into a flame, and you held it up to his cigar, he leaned forward, not breaking eye contact with you, as he puffed on the cigar, the butt of it turning red, small embers falling to the concrete ground. 

You shook the match, blowing it out and dropping it to the ground as well, his foot coming over to make sure it was fully snuffed out. He puffed on the cigar some more, small amounts of smoke escaping his lips before he brought his hand up to pick the cigar out of his mouth.  

“Oh, yeah-” He turned, standing up from the car, his chest bumping into yours, as he gave you a suspicious look, a raised eyebrow before he turned and reached his arm into the window of the driver's seat. He pulled out a large bouquet, a mix of roses, lavender, and eucalyptus- all your favorites. 

You gasped, a big smile stretching across your face as you took the bouquet, practically bouncing on the heels of your feet. He couldn’t help but smile warmly at your reaction. 

God, she’s so beautiful

“Lo! They’re beautiful!” You smiled, and you leaned forward, taking in a deep sniff of the fragrant flowers. Then you moved to give him a kiss, which he happily accepted. “I thought...” You turn your body slightly, a sly tone in your voice as you give him a side glance with half-lidded eyes. “We weren’t getting each other anything for Valentine's?” 

“I ain’t one for rules darling, you know that.” 

You smiled big again, your hand slipping into your purse, as you pulled out a black box, handing it to him. “Me neither.” You winked.

He gave you a knowing look, sticking the cigar back between his lips before taking the box, holding it in one hand, and pulling the lid off with the other. His eyes widened a bit, and a small scoff escaped him.

Cuban cigars. His favorite kind. The pricey kind he hasn’t gotten to taste in a long time. Cohiba 55 Aniversario. He looked down at you past his furrowed eyebrows.

“Always gotta show me up darling dont’cha?” He mumbles with the cigar between his lips, but the grin on his face gives away his attitude. You moved to face him, leaning in,

“It’s the thought that counts.” You hummed, tipping your chin towards him with a cheeky smile. 

He tipped his chin up, looking down at you with a quirked brow, throwing the small box into the driver's seat and pulling the cigar from his lips again. His arm roughly went around your hip and pulled you against him, making you giggle as your hands went to his chest. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a low sultry tone “It’s alright, I’ll make it even later tonight.” 

“I know you will.” You grin, your hand coming up to his cheek as you look into his hazel eyes. Most days, Logan looked tired and angry. However, whenever he looks at you- you see the same youthful fire you saw in him when you first met him- 15 years ago. 

The day you met him, he looked at you like you were the love of his life- only to figure out that indeed, you were the love of his life; and he was yours. Logan was a young- well…younger man then. He pursued you with a stubbornness and arrogance that drove you insane and eventually, you gave into his whims and discovered someone so much more than the rough exterior he gave off outside, deep inside. 

You were the only one Logan trusted with his heart. 

His free hand came up to yours cradling his cheek, careful of the cigar still resting between his fingers. He turned his head, softly kissing your palm, eyes not leaving yours, as his lips made contact with the ring on your ring finger. You smiled, your eyes crinkling in the corner- faint signs of crow's feet lingering, showing your age catching up to you. 

Thank god he didn’t lose you.

When the Westchester incident happened, he didn’t know what to do. By some luck, if you want to call it that - you weren’t anywhere near the school that day. You and him got Charles, and ran, protecting the old headmaster from the government and other threats, becoming his caretakers and working tirelessly to keep him fed, medicated, and comfortable. You and Logan have both grieved the loss of your friends- your family together. You worked together taking care of Charles, and have supported each other through everything. He didn’t know what he’d do without you, and you without him. 

You were partners. Nothing less.

“You ready doll?” He finally asks. You nodded, leaning up to give him a passionate smooch, squeezing his hand for reassurance and letting go.

‘I told Caliban not to wait up.” You say, as you walk around the other side of the car, Logan following you- and opening the passenger side door for you. “Charles told us not to get into any trouble.” You say with amusement. 

“He knows us well,” Logan mutters, shutting the door before walking back into the driver's seat. He turned the car on, his hand moving to the gear shift.

“Hey-” Your hand went to his, stopping him for a moment. “Happy Valentine's day.” You smiled. He grinned, leaning over to kiss you.

“Happy Valentine's, love.” 

Yeah, Valentine's Day was a crock. He’ll give you his love, every day.

[anorlondo00]

I do not care at all about sports and the sum total of my knowledge about American football is what I remember from reading Eyeshield 21 fifteen plus years ago, BUT. I am now invested in the football AU. Ace and Luffy are the mascots of the team and everyone loves them. They can do no wrong in Oyaji's eyes and he will let them get away with murder. In return, both of them are seriously devoted to making the team The Best EverTM. The first time the Whitebeards saw Ace throw a hail mary pass they swore it was going way too wide until Luffy tore down the whole length of the field, leapt like the monkey he is higher than anyone thought possible and slammed that ball down. Now the Whitebeards know to expect anything.

Also in my head Ace is the canon 2-3 years older than Luffy, and while he only became his legal guardian upon turning 18, he has helped raised him and the Whitebeards do a double-take every time responsible Ace comes out. Before Luffy joins the team Ace has to beg early off practice to go to a parent-teacher conference. After they're both on the team Ace still makes him PB&J sandwiches after practice, unruffled by doing it in front of everyone in the locker room.

Bootleg Marineford is a game where everyone (and especially Ace, under a lot of pressure) has been physically and mentally wrung out. The Marines team keep trying to sack Ace and get closer and closer, but Marco digs in his heels and makes an impassable barrier of himself. Until there's a crack in the line... And a small opening forms where Teach, who has been fighting with everyone recently, but especially Whitebeard and Ace, stands. Offensive player Akainu, who probably weighs twice what Ace does, hits him like an avalanche. Ace goes down. When Akainu is finally dragged off him, he stays down.

Luffy and Whitebeard are sprinting across the field toward Ace, but Marco's mind has hit the blue screen of death. There's nothing but static behind his eyes as he stares at his fallen quarterback.

The game is suspended and put up for a rematch. Neither Ace nor Marco, who did his level best to murder Akainu right there on the field, play.

(Ace is eventually fine, but now knows up front and personal the effects of a long-term concussion).

Claims not to know that much about American football, proceeds to clearly and accurately describe the exact plot I was also imagining—

YES! Are you KIDDING ME? This is perfect, I’ve got more

They don’t call him ‘Fire Fist’ for nothing, the kid throws missiles. The way Ace and Luffy find each other across an entire football field drops most people’s jaws.

Luffy will track the ball wherever Aces throws it. If Luffy get’s hurt in a collision catching the ball, Ace firmly believes that’s his fault.

That being said, Luffy is notoriously indestructible.

Bootleg Marineford: (That’s a hilarious thing to call it btw)

There was a flag thrown the second Ace got hit. Yes, it was Teach’s fault for leaving an open window. And. Akainu was needlessly brutal. Whitebeard was cursing him out before they even hit the ground.

Luffy was incredibly protective over Ace while he was unconscious. There were cameras everywhere.

Marco needed three people to pull him off Akainu. Instead of apologizing, he later told the media he’d gladly do it again.

Ace is out for the rest of the season. He’s absolutely devastated. That being said, he stood on the sidelines for every game.

Physical and neurological therapy were a bitch. Lots of ‘long talks’ with Pops.

Of course, Ace comes back to the field as soon as he’s better. Now, playing with the most overprotective offensive line you’ve ever seen in your life.

Thank you for writing this, it was so much fun to read!! And there’s a lot I didn't even mention like the adjusted age gap (perfect for this) and parent teacher conferences— I love it all!

[hannahbarberra162]

Victoria Punk Breeding Farm Part 2 (Dark, NON CON, Hybrid Kid Pirates x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | First Part

Hybrid Bull AU, NON CON, DARK

Reader x Kid, Killer, Heat & Wire

Happy birthday Killer!! For your birthday present you are not in this chapter :3

A continued thank you to - @don-mellow for your incredible Bullstass art that inspired me. Thank you to @gouraminnow and @quinloki for beta'ing this for me as I whined about it.

Wire POV

The little heifer was a touch more clever than most, Wire conceded as he watched you from afar. He’d been following you for about fifteen minutes as you attempted your escape. You hadn’t made it very far in terms of distance, taking your time to ensure you were undetected. Well, you thought you were undetected. You didn't know but the crew was still watching you in their den on CCTV and Wire was observing you downwind where you wouldn’t be able to smell him as easily.

You had quickly determined which direction you wanted to set off in, you probably saw the river when you came in that shitty van earlier in the day. Before heading north, you tried taking off the cowbell but found it was locked. Instead of holding the hammer with one hand to prevent it from making noise like some of the other cows had, you stuffed the bell with dirt and grass, which left both your hands free. It wasn’t that the other cows were stupid or anything, but they often let their nerves get the better of them and made foolish mistakes. You also tried rubbing dirt all over your body to dull your scent and the smell of Kid and Killer, another wise move. Kid had mentioned they weren’t your first or second farm and that you’d been sold off for bratty behavior so he wasn’t all that surprised to see you try to take off. In fact, it made his night. 

You were now carefully passing through an open field. If you had stopped to read the sign in the light of the moon, you might have noticed the warning to watch out for bulls in rut. But instead you passed right by, scurrying along in the dim light while trying to remain as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Wire had tracked you from the fence until you hit the middle of the field where there wasn’t any cover. Deciding he had enough chasing for the night, Wire got up from his own concealed position and walked straight towards you.

“Killer warned you little cow,” Wire taunted loudly, swishing his long tail as he spoke his first words to you. “You were told to stay in your pen and be a good little heifer, that running wouldn’t help ya. And now you’re about to find out why. You can come with me now and things can end the easy way or take your chances and things will end the fun way,” he continued, smiling widely. Wire loved this part of his job the most. Sure, he liked everything about working for Kid - the fucking, the fighting, the booze, his friends - but chasing down runaway cows was his favorite part of the job. His cock had been hard since Kid turned on the TV and now it was twitching in anticipation of your imminent capture. He really hoped you went the fun route. 

Your eyes were wide as you remained in your crouched position and Wire smelled fear wafting his direction. It only made his cock harder as he imagined you thinking through all your current options. He hoped you chose to run, it was always better that way. Telegraphing your plans, you braced yourself against the ground as Wire continued casually strolling towards you. He made sure he wasn’t all that close, maybe 50 or so feet away. It was enough for you to think that you had a chance to get away, that you might be able to outrun him. You wouldn’t, but you didn’t know that. You'd find out soon.

He stopped and let the gravity of the situation hit you. And just like Wire predicted, you bolted. His laugh resounded loudly through the empty field making you run even faster as he pulled the lariat off his belt. Wire made his loop and began swinging it overhead, laughing all the while.

Your POV

You stopped as you heard the bull speaking to you. You didn’t know how he’d found you so quickly, you had tried your best to conceal your path, your footprints and your scent. In the light of the moon he looked like a devil sent from hell to drag you back down. His horns were the longest you’d ever seen and they seemed to glow from within. He was wearing some kind of black flowing robe that accentuated his muscles as he walked leisurely towards you. He almost seemed indifferent to the fact that he was chasing you down but for his tail twitching with excitement. You remained frozen until the bull’s hearty laugh had you running as fast as your sore legs could carry you. 

You didn’t want to look back and determine if he was chasing you down as you ran through the open field. Any second that was spent not running would be wasted against a bull that size. You could only hear your blood rushing through your veins as you raced towards the forest at the far end of the clearing. If you made it there maybe you’d be able to lose him among the trees or at least you’d have a better chance than being in the wide open field. Your legs burned with exhaustion as your breath was coming in short spurts but you forced your body to continue onward. Just as you approached the tree line, you felt something tighten around your ankle. It was like you hit an invisible wall as you landed hard on the ground with a thud. You attempted to scramble up again but realized your ankle was caught in a lasso. Turning over onto your butt you tried to get the loop off your leg but it was being pulled tight by the now too close bull. He was practically dragging you to him with how taut he was pulling the rope.

“Looks like you want the fun way, hm? Fun for me anyways,” he drawled as you kept trying to get the rope off. You hadn’t realized how tall he was until he was looming over you, his incredible horns further accentuating your fear.

“D-don’t want ngh any kind of way,” you grunted, still trying to make your escape. The bull laughed again as he squatted down by your torso, the rest of the rope now coiled again in his hand. He pushed you onto your back, putting you at a disadvantage. You could still figure out something to escape if you thought quickly enough.

“Too bad,” he said with mock sympathy, reaching for you. You put up your hands to stop him from touching your body, the two of yours fitting into one of his own. “Never had a heifer assist in her own hogtie before,” he said with a laugh. He captured your wrists in his hand and sunk his knee into your hamstrings, forcing your calves in the air. Faster than your next breath, he’d tied your wrists together and bound them to your ankles. The speed and expertise with which he bound you told you this wasn’t his first rodeo. The ropes were tight and you were unable to dislodge them but they weren’t painful or cutting off your circulation. 

“Let me go!” you screamed, thrashing as much as you could. There was no sense in being quiet or sneaky anymore, your attempt had been discovered. 

“Nah,” he said, sitting down on the grass by you. He pulled you into his lap so that your cunt was inches from his face, your wrists and legs now dangling backwards over your head. One of his hands was on your inner thigh, easing your legs apart while the other was on your hip, keeping you steady. You felt like a crab that had been flipped over to reveal your soft underbelly. “Oh, looks like Kid was here already, yeah? Good thing for you,” he said, a thick finger suddenly stroking your wet slit. You knew you were wet from earlier but you hoped he couldn’t tell not all of it was old. Your body was responding to the bull even as you still wanted to get away.

“Yeah, you probably get off on hurting hybrids smaller than you. Making defenseless cows bleed and cry,” you hissed, unsuccessfully trying to close your legs. Your position, gravity, and his large hand were all working against you as you felt his hot breath on your thighs and bare cunt. You squirmed and tried to reposition yourself farther from his mouth. There had only been one time before where a bull had licked you there and you hadn’t enjoyed it at all. It felt wrong and weird and you’d kicked the bull in the face to get him away.  

“Nah, I’m not gonna hurt ‘cha. At least, not in ways you won’t like,” he said, his eyes no longer on your face but on your cunt. He removed his hand from your hip and used his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips for his inspection.

“I d-don’t like th-this,” you stammered as he hiked you up further onto your back.

“You will. I watched ya moan and cream all over Kid’s cock earlier, I know what kind of cow you are,” he said in a low voice, his aquiline nose now grazing your folds. You shuddered and fisted your hands tightly, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. You tried to mentally prepare for what was coming but your nerves were already shot.

“Wh-hat kind of cow am I?” you asked, hoping the venom in your voice would convey self assurance that you didn’t feel.

“A nasty one. The kind of cow who wants nothing more than to be put in her place and bred by bulls until she cries. The kind of cow whose messy, sloppy pussy is telling me she’s glad she got run down and tied up. The kind of cow who’s going to come on the tongue of some bull she’s never met before over and over again. That kind of cow,” he said, his fingers spreading your lips even wider. You couldn’t see him but you were sure he wore a large grin. You kept your mouth shut as his warm, flat tongue licked you from your hole to the top of your clit. It didn’t hurt, like he said, but it felt foreign and strange. 

“Nice pussy you got,” he said, smacking your lips. If you opened your mouth you were going to squeak or scream so you ignored his stupid ass comment and kept your jaw clenched tight. “You can try to keep yourself quiet if you want, there’s no sound on the cams anyway,” he said offhandedly. You really wanted to know more about the cameras but didn’t take the bait to answer. 

It seemed like the bull took your silence as acceptance as he began licking your cunt like it was a lollipop. You tried to shake him off a few times but all it got you was a nip to your inner thigh before he turned his attention back to your pussy. He teased you by laving the point of his tongue against your clit repeatedly until your legs shook, alternating with dipping his tongue into your hole. You couldn’t imagine what his cock was like if just his tongue was delving so deeply into you. His head bobbed as he ate at you, your teeth grinding against each other to keep them clenched tight. You desperately wanted to grab his horns and pull him closer if only to end the torment that much sooner. 

“Still quiet, eh? Let’s see if we can get you to say somethin’” he said, picking his head up momentarily from your folds. He was taking your silence for what it was - a challenge. He changed the angle he was holding you, setting you against his bent legs. Now you were at a 45 degree angle as one of his arms wrapped around your torso to hold you securely. You didn’t know exactly what he was doing until you felt his fingertips prodding at your seeping cunt. 

“ Y’can take two,” he said, stuffing them into you slowly. You rocked your hips back at the intrusion but soon he was working the digits in and out of you with ease. The lewd squelching of your dripping cunt was making you flush even as you wanted to keen from his attention. You could take it, you thought, you’d be able to bear it without making noises. 

Until.

His mouth descended back to slurp you while his fingers curled on something deep within you. It was like an electric shock - not the bad kind you’d gotten at your previous farm - but like your whole body was a live wire. The bull’s fingers roamed until he found some spot within you and pressed on it. You didn’t mean to, you couldn’t help it, it just slipped out - you moaned.

“There’s my good little heifer,” the bull laughed as his fingers prodded and rubbed within you. “You tried real hard, kept it up a while,” he said, pushing at that special spot. The pressure was doing something unfamiliar to you, making you feel like you were wound too tight like something was going to burst in you.

“N-no, don’t - don’t do that,” you whined. You wanted to stretch your hands over your head but weren’t able to move them farther without opening yourself up to the bull more. 

“Or else what?” the bull taunted from between your legs. He worked you quickly into a fervor, licking and finger fucking you until your toes were curling. You would never admit it but he was right - you did enjoy the sensation of his mouth on your pussy, the strong muscle bringing you closer and closer to coming.

You figured you’d already broken your silent streak and you needed an outlet for the feeling rising within you. “ Oh my gods I’m guh-gonna cuh -” you moaned out, ready for your imminent climax. You were so close to coming over this bull’s face, you wanted to with every fiber in your being. All he had to do was keep going, keep licking and fingering you…but he stopped right before your precipice.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” you cried out, your frustration escaping as anger. You wanted to kick or stamp your feet but they were still bound to your ankles. It wouldn’t do well to provoke the bull who was giving you pleasure but it hadn’t stopped your hot temper before.

“Nah, you say my name when you come or you don’t come at all. Got it?” 

“Wh-what’s your na-name?” you asked, your knees trying to close around his head.

“Oh oops, didn’t tell ya. Wire,” he said with a shrug before leaning back down into you. He started again, his jaw working hard to lick at you like you were a delicious meal. His strong fingers prodded and stroked your sensitive spot and you were panting just moments later. 

“Good cows get to come, yeah? Say my name or I’ll ruin it for ya,” Wire demanded. You nodded, unable to string together a coherent thought as he pistoned his fingers in and out of you. Resuming his previous position, Wire licked his way from his fingers to suck your clit gently in his mouth. One moment of the pressure you came screaming his name into the night. He continued to suck softly as you rode his face as best you could, humping his fingers and nose. Finally you began to come down off your high, your chest heaving as Wire removed his fingers and licked them clean.

You were still panting as he untied your ankles from your wrists and you let your limbs splay outwards and your arms rest over your head. Wire was rubbing your ankles now that they were unbound, checking the ankle he’d yanked with nimble fingers. You didn’t give a shit what he did right now, you felt boneless and could see why some cows begged their bulls for such an act. Not that you would ever beg for anything from these assholes but you could see the appeal. 

“Your ankle’s fine,” he told you, setting your leg down more gently than you expected.

“Like you give a shit”, you snapped. You weren’t fooled, he just didn’t want their investment to be destroyed. Kid would probably take it out of his paycheck - or hide- if he seriously hurt you. Wire grunted but rolled you onto your stomach and pulled you to elbows and knees since your wrists were still bound.

“Nothing’s injured there either, asshole,” you hissed at him, unable to push yourself to your hands. Wire didn’t answer but you heard the sound of fabric swishing and a zipper being undone. Wire’s heavy cloak hit the ground as he threw it behind him. 

“H-hey, wait -” you said, trying to move your legs under you and get out of position. You were tired, sore, and didn’t want to be used by any other bulls. All you wanted to do was pass out and plan your next escape, not get fucked yet again.

“I don’t want - no, please -” you pleaded as Wire lined himself up, his fat tip pressing against your core. There was something metal on his cockhead pressing against you, making you arch your back up. You felt him pause momentarily but continue to move forward as a hand pressed on your lower back to lower it back into position.

“Won’t hurt, loosened you up first,” he grunted, holding up your slim tail in one huge hand as he eased his way inside. His left hand found its way to your horn, gripping it as he mounted you from behind. He was gentle with your horn, holding but not squeezing as he used it as leverage to insert himself into you slowly. Even though you’d been under Kid earlier in the day the stretch was still intense. You whined in your throat as he bottomed out in you. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant but still uncomfortable as your body struggled to accommodate his huge cock. 

Wire started a slow rhythm moving forward inch by inch and retreating just as slowly. Soon the discomfort was replaced by pleasure as he worked himself in and out of you.

“See? Doesn’t ngh hurt,” he murmured, now grabbing both of your horns and leaving your tail to swish by itself. He used the roughened pads of his fingers to rub where they sprouted from your head. It felt too good, too euphoric so you shook your head to get him off. Wire simply held on tighter and pointed your head forward as he fucked you faster, never stopping his movements. 

“Pussy’s so fuck tight, can’t believe this is your third farm. Can’t wait hah to breed this pussy full, have you dripping with my come shit from this nasty little slit,” Wire babbled to you, his pace increasing. It felt vulgar to have him holding you by the horns to fuck you like you were some lowly animal but you couldn’t deny it was turning you on just a little. Wire reached down and grabbed one of your dangling breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“G’na make milk for us, yeah? G’na be nnnn good little cow let us milk hah hah you? G’na have me suckin’ on these sweet titties, drinkin’ like a king while you come on my cock,” Wire started pulling on your nipple with his index and middle finger while the other fingers massaged your breast, like he was milking you already.

You could tell yourself a lot of things. You could tell yourself that you were overwhelmed, that you were tired and aching, that you were angry, upset, that you just wanted to go home. But as it stood Wire was rubbing your horn, pulling on your nipple and pounding you from behind with his pulsing cock and talking dirty into your ear. You couldn't keep it all together, you…-

You mooed. 

Wire paused for a moment then barked out a cruel laugh that had you ducking your head. “Is that so little cow? Fucked so good you moo for me? Kid's g’na be so fuckin’ mad it wasn't him that got it out of you first,” he snickered like this was something funny for him. Cows were known to moo when overstimulated but it had never happened to you before.

“Good little heifer, mooin’ on our first go. I wasn’t gonna shit hah let you come again but how can I refuse such a unggh sweet moo? Usually nnnh takes a few more ungh fuck shit g’na fuckin..’” Wire let go of your horn and reached under you to rub at your clit with three of his fingers. You clenched down hard on his cock as he brought your sensations to a crescendo. He was playing your body like an instrument, making you senseless with sensation as his pace increased faster and faster. He was pushing you rapidly towards another unwanted orgasm as pounded into you, his thighs slapping against your own as the coil in your stomach wound tighter until you could hardly bear it. You were moaning softly as you climbed higher in your pleasure but needing something to tip you over the edge.

Wire leaned down over you and bit your horn hard. Without warning the coil in you snapped as you came for him a second time, this time shrieking from the intensity. He rode you hard while you came pushing himself towards his own release. Finally you felt him shoot his come inside you, the hot white ropes splashing out of your overstuffed cunt. You collapsed onto your stomach as Wire pulled out, your bound arms trapped underneath your body. This time you didn’t open your eyes after your orgasm ended because there was nothing left of you. You had no more energy or fight, you couldn’t do anything but lay on the soft grass as the night wind chilled your skin. 

Wire rolled you to your side and untied your wrists, rubbing them like he had your ankles. You didn’t resist or try to escape, that would have to wait for another time. After untying you he rolled you onto your back and began kissing your sore tits. You began crying in earnest now, you couldn’t do another session with Wire, you just couldn’t -

“Alright, get off her. She’s done, I’m taking her back,” a blue haired bull said gruffly as Wire picked his head up from your body. The new bull scooped you up easily from the ground, your limbs dangling like a ragdoll from his strong arms. Wire grumbled but moved to a sitting position. What did they put in the water to make all the bulls here so large? 

“Only went one round Heat, I didn’t even get ta -”

“Your dick’s not gonna fall off, you can have ‘er later,” the blue haired bull said dismissively, already turning back towards the barn. He was strange looking and had been branded all over his face and arms but you didn’t even bother staring as you sagged in his arms. Sighing, he grabbed Wire’s cloak off the ground from where he threw it and wrapped it over you before resuming walking. Now you had to straighten up again - the last time that you let your guard down you’d ended up over Killer’s lap with his fingers up your ass. The new bull glanced down at you and grunted.

“Yer alright, nothing else’s gonna happen tonight,” he said quietly. You didn’t reply, not trusting his word. He shifted you in his arms so your head was resting against his shoulder as he carried you back to the lit barn. You let yourself rest just for the moment, it wasn't like you'd be doing anything in the next few minutes anyway. The walk was shorter than you remembered and soon he undid the simple gate lock and entered the warm, cosy barn. Entering your stall, he sat down on the same large chair Killer had before. You tried to get out of his hold but he easily kept you on his lap as he clipped your collar back to your line. Frowning, he turned your bell over and saw the debris you’d put there earlier.

“Smart,” he remarked, digging out the dirt and leaves. Once he was done the hammer could hit the bell once again, leaving you exactly where you started. Well, not exactly. You were exhausted, had more bruises and aches and now had Wire’s come dripping down your legs. Tears beaded on your lash line as you waited for whatever else Heat was going to do to you. You couldn’t take much more, at least not tonight. Heat pulled you close to his chest and sat with you in silence. 

It was wrong on so many levels but Heat was warm, calm, and smelled faintly of peppermint. You buried your head into his chest under Wire’s robe and avoided his gaze as he sat with you on his lap, stroking your skin gently. He didn’t say anything as an errant sniffle turned into a sob which turned into a long cry. Heat held you as you bawled, snot and tears running down your face in equal measure. You were crying for your family, for your freedom, for your future, for anything and everything. No other farm had ever made you feel a loss of control like this one and you didn’t know what your next steps would be. Through it all Heat held you and stroked your flank as you cried into his chest, rubbing your face on his healed wounds. Eventually your cries petered out and turned into hiccups as you calmed yourself down. Heat moved you off his chest and took a look at your red face, brushing some of your tears away with his thumb.

“You can be strong and resist again tomorrow, little cow. We’ll like you just the same,” Heat said as he stood up and placed you on your cot. You laid down obediently and he  covered you with the heavy wool blanket. 

“Good night, little cow,” he said, turning off the lights overhead. You were asleep before he’d left the barn.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 1: Vocal Chords (Wild & Twilight)

Read on Ao3

I didn't get a chance to hop on Tumblr for the last few days so I'm posting these now to catch up!

CW for burn wounds, axe wounds, and a spell taking away a character's voice

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

The forest is quiet, save for the soft hoots of owls and far off chirps of keese. Wild walks on silent feet, careful to avoid fallen branches and piles of decaying leaves. Autumn remains year round in the Akkala region. The air is forever seized with a damp chill, the earth forever laden with the burden of fiery foliage.

Its beauty cloaks danger as the hills of Faron hide flashes of distant lightning. 

In this moment, that danger feels closer at hand than usual. 

No sooner had the Shadow’s latest portal deposited the heroes in Wild’s time, than the reports had begun pouring forth. 

“Monsters!” One positively petrified looking man at the stable had cried, wringing his hands. “Mysterious and horrible! They twist the mind and take what they cannot return!”

“No one’s seen anything like it before!” Said a woman, running a comb through a horse’s silken mane. “We’ve always dealt with monsters around here — you know that better than anyone, Link — but these…these don’t belong to our world.”

And so, the heroes had split up into groups of twos and threes and began their journey to the very corners of Akkala’s wild woods. None had been able to guess what exactly they were looking for or what they would face in the end. But such mystery was nothing new to any of them. And it had never stopped them before. 

The prospect of the discovery had been a bit exciting at first, if also tinged with fear. Now, however, Wild finds that his eagerness has diminished. In this place peppered with the fallen corpses of guardians, freckled with water settled long enough to attract bothersome clusters of mosquitoes and gnats, it feels as though the world holds its breath.

He walks forward, Twilight by his side, padding softly upon giant paws, and the beasts and creatures of his overgrown land watch with bated breath. Awaiting the imminent crash of thunder.

Wild reaches out, places a gentle hand on Twilight’s back. Upon his fur, droplets of suspended water have fallen, turning the thick, dark layers cold and damp. A huff of breath through the chilled nose that nuzzles him creates a wisp of fog that takes its time dissipating.

“They’re here.” 

It is a murmur, almost a whisper. Wild is no stranger to the feeling that the disturbing of a quiet place is a sin most severe. Many a time he has hardly dared to breathe lest he awaken some monstrosity, harm some delicate beauty. But the sensation now is different. The air is electric. To speak aloud, to shout, would be to invite death.

“I don’t know what they are, but I can feel them. Can you smell anything, Twi?”

The rancher lifts his nose to the air, takes a few audible inhales. Then, to the ground he goes, nostrils blowing small bubbles in the puddles beneath their feet.

He walks forward several more steps before his ears prick up. 

Wild’s breath catches. “Did you find something?”

Twilight ducks his head in the affirmative. Wild draws his sword, hefts his shield firmly into his grasp. Together, they start forward. 

For what seems an eternity, all is quiet. Not so much as a squirrel or a fox dares to raise their head above the waving grass. Birds do not sing in the trees. Even the Guardians, often prone to rising revitalized from their shallow graves, remain still as the death that binds them. 

Perhaps, that is why, when the sound finally comes, it is deafening. 

It explodes from behind the two heroes in tongues of ravenous blue-white flame. Pain accompanies them, so cold it sears. 

With a shout, Wild tries to lunge sideways. But his foot catches on a smoking log. He stumbles over it and his own feet, lands with a sodden, sorrowful splash. 

Quickly, he shoves himself upward on arms that tremble. His back burns. The smell of burnt flesh and charred hair wafts nauseatingly.

Somewhere, someone is crying. Their anguished sobbing fills in his ears, mingling with screams so terrible he feels their echoes in his soul. 

The hairs on the back of his neck rise as Wild does. Wiping tears born of smoldering foliage and pain, he stumbles forward. Already, flames have begun to surround him. Even the rampant puddles cannot douse them. 

He cannot see their attacker. He cannot see Twilight.

But he can hear him. Over the sobbing, over the screams, is a distinctively sharp yelp. 

Laughter splits the air like a cleaving axe. 

“Twilight!”

Wild tries to say his name, tries to shout it. His lips form the word, his tongue moves to push it forth. Yet nothing escapes. No sound of his own pierces aching ears. 

Already raging panic shoots up to a fever pitch.

He begins to run. 

“Twilight! Twilight!”

Speech is an art he can no longer perform. His body is uncooperative. His breath comes so fast it escapes in hiccups. 

Eyes glare from the cerulean gloom, eyes that see too much but lack the means to do so. A dark hood, a gown of splotchy gray, a lantern that swings like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. The figure comes forth as though from nothing and drags its claws across his face. 

Wild backs up, spluttering, tasting iron. Behind him, someone giggles and it sounds like the cry of one in the throes of death. He does not have time to turn. Something sharp slices through bone and sinew, muscle and veins, and nestles mercilessly into his shoulder blade.

His mouth opens in a scream from which there is no sound. Wild whirls, slashes blindly. The axe falls and slices further as it does so. The ground tilts beneath him. His strikes do not make their desired contact. Air meets them, air thick with smoke and flame.

And from it come countless other lanterns. They bob like barrels on the turbulent waters, approaching with relentless determination.

Any emotion he had harbored before is gone now. Terror is all that is left. 

Wild throws himself into a spin attack. His surroundings blur. Heat eats at his face, his body. Fire licks at the edges of his cloak. 

The lanterns retreat slightly. 

Again, laughter sounds. 

Again, pain splinters through him. 

Wild crumples with an axe in his thigh. 

Find Twilight. 

It is all he can do now, the only command he can give himself. It is enough to make him rise, enough to make him draw his own weapon of flame. Balls of fire surge forth, bouncing gallantly in every direction. Their searing crimson is welcome in a sea of cold. 

They must hit something, because a screech splits the air. Encouraged, Wild swings again. 

This time, he sees it hit. From the hands of a creature sewn like a haunted doll,

drops the axe that had very nearly relieved him of his head. 

He flings more flame, sees an opening, and moves towards it as fast as his shredded leg will allow. 

Blood rains in his wake, replacing the vibrant crimson of the leaves that have long since turned to ash. Agony lights up his every motion. There are tears in his eyes, pounding in his head. Still, the creatures come. Their lanterns converge, signaling their surrounding him on all sides. With reckless abandon, Wild swings at them.

“Twilight!” It would sound like a sob if it was able. Yet, still no sound escapes.

A spell of some sort, it must be. His jaw aches from its bindings.

Where…where is he?

He does not want to imagine the rancher lying limp in a bed of flame. He does not want to think of him suffocating on smoke. He cannot entertain the idea that Twilight has perished amongst the very stuff that sends him into a panic. 

Gasping, Wild stumbles, falls. Claws find him instantly, ruthless in the way they pierce him. They scrape his flesh, expose his bones. He chokes. His weapon falls from his hand. Just as fast, their nails are in the back of his hand, digging through and into the mud beneath. 

He looks up into the endless darkness of their gaping eye holes and sees death. There is no escape from it. He wants to run, wants to fight. But no strength surges miraculously within him. No salvation flits down from the heavens in hues of gentle, glittering pink. Nothing arrives to shatter the spell that holds him speechless.

Wild closes his eyes, grits his teeth. He begins to drag his hand through the claws, ripping through his palm. Spots of deepest black and brightest white explode against his eyelids. He opens his mouth and…

Screams. 

His eyes fly open. His breath sticks in his throat. Through the stars exploding in his vision, through the tears and ash, dirt and blood, he sees him.

Twilight lunges in a blur of gray, stark against the pearly flame. Jaw wide, eyes flashing, he leaps at the creatures. Blood spurts through the air in furtive arcs, rising from the torn throats of the dead. It drips from his maw as he whirls on them like a beast possessed. 

Though they try to tear at him with claw and axe, he is far faster. He weaves between them with expert precision. One after another they fall until all that remains of them are their lanterns and the crackling flames. And even these are smothered by the sudden coming of rain.

Dismal drizzles transform into a true Akkala onslaught within seconds. Smoke rises in graceful plumes. The scent of it melds with moisture and blood. It burns Wild’s throat and eyes.

Twilight limps towards him. The wounds he had fought through before now weigh heavily upon him. When he transforms in a cloud of shadow, he nearly collapses.

But he manages to make it to Wild’s side, to kneel beside him. What little energy the champion had clung to flees so quickly he practically falls into Twilight’s waiting arms. The steady beat of the rancher’s heart fills his ears. Relief floods in, turning leaden limbs weightless. It is almost enough to push aside the nauseating cacophony of screeching pain.

Almost.

“You’re alive,” he croaks, and the relief increases so much that it is dizzying. His lips form the words, his tongue pushes them forth, and they fall audibly upon the smoldering remains of their battle. 

The spell, it seems, has broken with the collapse of the last opponent.

“Oh, cub.” Gentle fingers brush back wayward strands of hair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize they were behind us. They must have cloaked themselves. And then I tried to find you, but with all the smoke I couldn’t smell you and I couldn’t hear anything and…”

His next inhale hitches. He holds him tighter. 

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Wild presses his face into the rancher’s chest and tries to drown out the agony. 

“I thought I’d lost you too,” he breathes. “I tried to call for you and I-I couldn’t. Twi, I couldn’t speak.”

He doesn’t mean for it to escape as a choked sob, and yet, it does. The pain pulsing through him, the remnant screams of his terror — it is all too much. 

“I know those monsters,” Twilight says, voice hoarse and unsteady. “They’re from my time.  But they’ve never been that powerful before. They’ve never had spells. The Shadow must’ve enhanced their abilities.

“But to have taken your voice…oh, cub. I’m so, so sorry.”

A tear slithers down Wild’s cheek, nudging aside dirt and grime to make its way to his neck. It joins the blood pooled in dark splotches upon his tunic. He clings to Twilight as his consciousness slips through clawing fingers.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers, words slurring as he begins his descent. “I’m just glad…that you’re here now.”

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby w reader with ocd?

✞⛧ Abby with a girlfriend that has OCD ✞⛧

Warnings: I don’t have ocd, so if I got smth wrong or it’s offensive please tell me-

✞⛧ Abby notices before you ever say anything. The way you check the door multiple times before leaving, how your fingers hover over objects like you’re making sure they’re just right, the way your breathing changes when something feels off. She doesn’t say anything at first—just watches, takes note.

✞⛧ She doesn’t think it’s inconvenient, just… something to understand. Abby’s all about problem-solving, so when she realizes this isn’t something she can just fix for you, it frustrates her—not at you, but at how powerless she feels when she sees you struggling.

✞⛧ At first, she’s not sure what to do. She’s used to tangible problems—wounds she can stitch, enemies she can fight. This? This is different. But she’s patient. She listens. She learns.

✞⛧ Abby never gets annoyed at you. She gets annoyed at the way the world isn’t built for the way your mind works. When people rush you, when they make careless comments—that’s when you see her jaw clench, her grip tighten.

✞⛧ She figures out pretty quickly what makes things easier for you. If you have to check the door before leaving, she stands next to you, silent, never rushing. If things need to be in a certain order, she respects it. If she moves something by accident, she fixes it before you even notice.

✞⛧ If you have compulsions that hurt—scratching, picking, repeating actions until your skin is raw—Abby’s hands are right there to stop you, firm but gentle. She never shames you for it, just takes your hands in hers, rubs slow circles into your palms, reminds you to breathe.

✞⛧ She gets really good at grounding you. If you’re stuck in a spiral, she doesn’t say stop—she gives you something else to focus on. “Come here,” she’ll say, pulling you against her. “Tell me three things you can hear. Two things you can feel.” She keeps her voice steady, calm.

✞⛧ When you apologize—because you always do—she shakes her head. “Don’t. You don’t have to be sorry for this.” And she means it.

✞⛧ She hates when people treat you like you’re difficult because of it. If someone makes a snide comment about how long something takes, Abby’s right there with a glare that could shut down an entire conversation.

✞⛧ If routines help you, Abby builds them into her life like it’s second nature. You eat the same breakfast every morning? Guess who’s making sure it’s stocked. You need to wash your hands a certain way? She learns the pattern, does it with you sometimes.

✞⛧ When she catches you trying to hide it—masking, forcing yourself to act normal—it kills her. “You don’t have to do that with me,” she tells you one night, voice softer than usual. “You don’t have to pretend.”

✞⛧ If a compulsion is making you late, she doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t sigh, doesn’t roll her eyes, doesn’t make you feel guilty. She just waits. If you’re gonna be late, she figures, then you’ll be late together.

✞⛧ The first time she sees you have a breakdown over it—when the frustration, the exhaustion, the sheer weight of it all crashes down on you—she just holds you. Doesn’t try to fix it, doesn’t try to rationalize. Just lets you be.

✞⛧ She picks up on the things that trigger you before you even have to say them. Clutter? Uncertainty? The wrongness of something being out of place? She notices, and she does something about it.

✞⛧ If intrusive thoughts hit you hard, she’s the one grounding you back to reality. “It’s just a thought,” she reminds you, voice steady. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

✞⛧ When she learns that reassurance-seeking is part of it, she doesn’t mind repeating herself. “Yes, I locked the door.” “Yes, you turned the oven off.” “Yes, I love you.” She’ll say it a hundred times if it helps

✞⛧ She understands that it’s not just about being “neat” or “particular.” It’s not a quirk. She gets that. She takes it seriously.

✞⛧ If something feels wrong to you, she doesn’t dismiss it. She doesn’t say “it’s fine” or “just let it go.” If it matters to you, it matters to her.

✞⛧ She lets you explain things in your own time. She never pushes. Just listens. Always listens.

✞⛧ If you ever start spiraling in public, she subtly shifts into protector mode. Keeps you close, blocks out the noise, finds a quiet place if you need it.

✞⛧ She makes an effort to understand the science behind it. Reads about it. Asks questions. Not because she thinks she can fix you, but because she wants to know you.

✞⛧ When you feel like your mind is your worst enemy, she’s the one reminding you that you’re so much more than this.

✞⛧ She knows when you need space and when you need her. She never takes it personally if you need to be alone for a while.

✞⛧ She has this way of making you feel safe in your own head, even when it’s the last place you want to be.

✞⛧ If you get stuck in a loop, she finds little ways to break it—changing the subject, cracking a joke, touching you. A hand on your back, a thumb brushing over your knuckles, something to pull you out of it.

✞⛧ She never lets you think you’re a burden. Not once. Not ever. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she tells you, and she means it.

✞⛧ Abby doesn’t love you despite your OCD. She just loves you. All of you. The way you think, the way you are. And if the world makes things harder for you? Then she’ll stand between you and the world, teeth bared, always.

[dreaminguponlilypads]

Can I request a male reader with tf141?I need some comfort so how would they comfort a crying reader or if he's having a panic attack?

ofcc!! hope youre feeling better now btw 💗💗!

STEADY, MATE.

male!reader x TF 141

It was happening again.

Your chest was too tight, your hands clammy and shaking. The air felt thick, suffocating, and no matter how hard you tried to breathe, it just wouldn’t come. The room spun around you, blurred at the edges, voices mixing into an overwhelming mess of sound.

Someone said your name. Too close. Too loud.

A hand landed on your shoulder.

You lashed out before you even registered what you were doing.

“Get off me!”

The shove was hard, fueled by panic more than strength, but it was enough to send whoever had reached for you stumbling back a step.

Soap.

His hands were still raised, his expression flickering with concern, but he didn’t move toward you again. Gaz had taken a step back too, glancing between you and the others, unsure whether to intervene or give you space.

Ghost stayed quiet, watching. Calculating. Ready to step in if necessary.

But it was Price who spoke first.

“Alright.” His voice was calm. Steady. “I won’t touch you. But I’m not leaving.”

You took a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. Your limbs trembled violently, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Your mind screamed at you to move, to run, to do something, but there was nowhere to go.

“You should.” Your voice was rough, barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to glare at him. “Just leave me the hell alone.”

Price didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.

“Not happening.”

You clenched your fists, the tension in your body unbearable. “I don’t need your help.”

“That so?” He exhaled slowly, crouching down so he was level with you, but keeping his hands in plain sight. “Because it sure as hell looks like you do.”

Something inside you twisted violently, frustration bubbling over. “I don’t need anyone!” The words tore out of you, raw and sharp. “I don’t need you! I don’t need any of you!”

A pause.

The others stayed silent. Soap shifted uncomfortably but didn’t say anything. Gaz looked away, jaw tightening. Ghost just watched.

But Price?

Price stayed.

He didn’t get angry. Didn’t take offense. He just studied you, quiet for a long moment before speaking again.

“That what you really think?” His voice wasn’t accusing. Just… knowing.

You opened your mouth—ready to snap back, to yell—but nothing came out.

Because the truth was, you didn’t know.

Your body was shaking so badly that your knees finally buckled, forcing you to sit before you collapsed entirely. You dropped your head into your hands, fingers digging into your scalp, trying desperately to ground yourself.

Price didn’t move. Didn’t try to force you to talk. He just sat there, letting the silence settle.

After a few long moments, he spoke again.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your breath hitching.

“You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to explain. You just have to breathe.” His voice was still calm, unwavering. “In for four, out for four. I’ll do it with you.”

You hated how much you wanted to listen.

So you did.

In—one, two, three, four.

Out—one, two, three, four.

It wasn’t perfect. Your breaths were still uneven, shaky. But you kept going. And so did he.

Eventually, the crushing weight in your chest started to ease.

And eventually, the panic started to fade.

When you finally looked up, Price was still there.

Not pushing. Not demanding. Just there.

You swallowed hard, your throat raw. “I—” You hesitated. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” Price cut you off gently, shaking his head. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Another pause. Then, Soap finally spoke, his voice lighter, trying to ease the weight in the air. “So… we good, or am I getting decked again?”

This man had to work on his timing.

You let out a weak, exhausted chuckle—barely there, but real.

Gaz rolled his eyes but smirked. Ghost just huffed quietly, shaking his head.

Price pushed himself to his feet, offering you a hand. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”

And this time, you took it.

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Life Time Part 3

Hey, guys! We are moving right along with this story, and I think we're gonna hit 8 chapters if everything goes to plan. Fingers crossed!

So much happens in this chapter, like sooo so much it would take as long listing it as it would for you to just read it.

Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

~

Steve was on the walkie talkies as much as he could spare when they weren’t looking into the issue of Vecna, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like they’d forgotten him.

Nancy had gone to Wayne first thing in the morning.

“Mr. Munson?” she asked timidly. “I’m Nancy Wheeler.”

“Ah,” Wayne said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. “I don’t have my shot gun or you’d be facing its double barrel, I’m afraid. I know what you did to Steve, you and I aren’t gonna get cozy anytime soon.”

Nancy winced. “Yeah, I know. But I’m here about Eddie.” She inched forward, nervously picking at her fingernails.

Wayne glared at her and took a step back. “Dr. Owens has already been in touch and I’ve been forcibly removed from my home. They think this another Upside Down fuckery.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at the ground. “Steve and Eddie sent me because if the police or anyone else are watching you, then it won’t link back to them. They’ll just see some nosy Parker hoping to get her first big scoop.”

Wayne licked his lips nice and slow. “I can see sense in that, I suppose. So my boy is safe?”

“Yes,” Nancy said quickly. “But with the cops thinking he did it, I don’t know how long that’s going to be true.”

“My boy didn’t do that,” Wayne growled. “He wouldn’t. He’s not in league with whatever is doing this and you best remember that.”

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it either,” she hastened to reply. “We know what people look and act like when they’re being controlled and he doesn’t display any of the symptoms.”

Wayne eyed her suspiciously and then nodded curtly. “What are you next moves?”

~

“No.”

Robin and Nancy looked at each other in shocked anger.

“Are you suggesting that we would need a big tough guy to go to a psychiatric hospital?” Robin sneered.

Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. Because what happens if he attacks one of you before the orderly can get to him? Say oops, when he snaps one of your necks?”

Nancy started stammering and um’ing and ah’ing while Robin stared at him wide eyed and in shock. Steve pursed his lips and waved at Wayne, indicating he had a point.

“If you’re not going to listen to me,” he huffed, “maybe you’ll listen to him. Because honestly that’s only the worst case scenario, but the others aren’t much better. What happens if you get caught?”

“Well,” Nancy huffed as she scrambled for an answer, “I mean...it’s worked for us in the past.”

“You’re not going and that’s final,” Wayne growled. “I don’t care if that’s how you always do things before, you’re not doing them now. I get your lot is all that is standing between the end of the world, but we’re going to do things the smart way and not blunder into the right thing by accident.”

Steve smiled and relaxed. He still cared about Nancy and Robin was his best friend, the thought of them talking to that man without help sent shivers down his spine.

“So what’s going to happen is this,” Wayne continued, “Robin and Steve will keep an eye on Max and the other kids, while Nancy and I head to Pennhurst. Is that clear?”

Robin nodded, feeling relieved. She would have gone with Nancy if she was asked to, because someone needed to keep an eye on her. But with Wayne going with her, that was a load off everyone’s shoulders.

Nancy chewed on her lip, she didn’t want anyone to get in her way, and she had deliberately picked Robin because she knew the other girl would do as she said. But judging from the way Wayne was glaring at her, he had figured her out.

“Fine.”

~

“You can’t keep me here,” Max huffed, “in this basement that smells of sweaty boys and old socks.”

“Yes I can,” Steve snapped back. “I don’t want you running off where we can’t see you and have you up and die on us!”

“I’ll call my lawyer!” Max hissed. “So either you drive me or I start walking!”

Steve closed his eyes and then buried his head in hands. He didn’t want to do this. Billy didn’t deserve the letter she was going to read to him. He still had his in his back pocket and he had no intention of reading the thing because they were going to save her. They had to.

He yanked open the car door. “Everyone in!”

Lucas got in first and scooted to the middle as Robin and Max flanked him, Dustin having beaten them to the front seat.

~

They drove out to the cemetery and parked as close as he could to Billy’s grave. He rubbed his chin as he waited.

“If you don’t shut up,” he finally growled at Dustin, who was being a little shit, “I’ll knock out those brand new pearly whites of yours.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Dustin huffed, turning to face Steve with furrowed brows. “Too far!”

“Then you knock it off,” Steve snapped back. “I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but holy hell the lack of respect coming from that side of the car is immense right now.”

Dustin rolled his eyes as Steve turned his attention back to Max. “That’s it, I’m calling.” He shoved the car door open and slammed it shut.

Lucas was out of the car in a flash. “She said to give her time.”

“I don’t care,” Steve huffed. “It’s been long enough.” He stalked across the cemetery lawn, passed the other tombstones.

He reached her and whirled her around, but gasped when he saw her eyes had gone milky white. “Shit!” He shook her shoulder. “Max! Max!”

Dustin, Lucas, and Robin all came dashing over.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Lucas screamed as Max started to rise into the air. He jumped on her to try and keep her on the ground, but she rose with him attached to her legs.

Steve pushed Dustin toward the car. “Get Wayne and Nancy on the walkie-talkie! We need to know what they found out now!”

Dustin scrambled to do as he was told. Lucas tumbled to the ground and let out a pained cried, Robin rushed to his side.

“Hey, you okay?” she murmured. He nodded, hold his arm. He rubbed it a moment and then stood back on his feet.

“Music!” Dustin screamed. “She needs music!”

Then it was Lucas scrambling for the car, he came back with headphones and a Walkman. He turned the music up as loud as he could. Steve and Robin both grabbed Max’s ankles and dragged her down. Lucas slapped the headphones on her head and turned it down so that they couldn’t hear the music anymore, but that it was still loud enough for Max to hear.

As soon the headphones where on she dropped the rest of the way into Lucas’s waiting arms.

A beat. Then another as they waited.

Max opened her eyes and everyone was sobbing in relief. Dustin immediately replied back to the waiting members of their Party. “She’s safe, she’s safe.”

~

“Steve,” Eddie breathed into the walkie-talkie, panic rising from the pit of his stomach. “Please come in. I’m in trouble.”

“This is Steve,” Steve murmured into his device. “What’s wrong?” The recombined Party stood outside the Creel house, looking for a way in.

“Jason and his goons are outside,” Eddie hissed back. “And they don’t look friendly.”

“Shit!” Steve replied. He turned to the rest of them. “We need someone who can drive to go and get Eddie, Jason is there at the boathouse and he’s trapped.”

“I’m on it!” Wayne said digging out his keys.

“Wait!” Nancy shouted, throwing up her hand to stop him. “Take my car! Your truck will be too recognizable!”

Wayne stared at her for a moment and then tossed her his keys. She tossed him hers. He yanked open the door to her station wagon and sped off.

They all kind of stood there for a moment taking in the absolute terror of Jason coming after Eddie, before Robin broke the silence. “So are we breaking into this joint or what?”

~

Eddie made it out onto the boat in the middle of the lake when Patrick, Jason, and Andy came after him. They were about three feet from shore when Wayne pulled up in Nancy’s station wagon. He popped open the glove box and rolled his eyes. Inside was a revolver, with a sigh he pulled out and checked the rounds.

Fully loaded.

“I might like her a little bit,” he muttered as he hopped out of the car and ran up to the water.

“You boys best not be doing what I think you’re doing,” he growled and cocked the gun, the sound loud and clear on the open water. “I’mma gonna give you to the count of five to turn around, nice and slow.”

Jason and Andy turned around as they were told, but Patrick had kept going and had gotten about halfway to Eddie when he started rising in the air.

“Shit!” Wayne hissed as the boys turned around and saw their friend plunge into the water as if by some unseen force. Which considering this Vecna son of a bitch, was more than accurate.

Andy and Jason ran back into the water and Wayne dived into the open door of Nancy’s station wagon and turned up the radio as loud as it could go.

But it was too late. Patrick shot out of the water again and his limbs twisted unnaturally; the sound of them snapping would haunt Wayne for the rest of his days. Eddie started screaming and he scrambled back in the boat in terror, but he went too far and fell into the water.

“God damn it!” Wayne cursed and ran out to the water, but before he could even get to the shore, Patrick dropped like a stone.

“Shit!’ he cursed again.

Jason started screaming about the devil and how he had come to Hawkins, while Andy actually dove into the water to get their slain friend.

“Cal’s gonna kick my ass for this,” he groused, then hauled off and smacked Jason hard across his face.

Jason stopped screaming , staring at Wayne in wide-eyed shock, holding his cheek.

“Do something useful and go into the house and call the cops,” he snarled, “while I help your friend here bring the body to shore.”

Jason hurried to do what he was told and Wayne waded out to the water to help Andy bring Patrick’s body in.

~

“Wayne...” Calvin Powell growled when he saw him sitting on the hood of Nancy’s car, picking at his nails.

“I’m gonna protect my boy,” Wayne said without looking up from his hands. “And those other boys were gonna kill him.”

Powell turned slowly to Jason and Andy who refused to look at him.

“Was that what you were going to do, boys?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “Or is Mr. Munson overreacting?”

Wayne snorted. “If they were planning on bringing him to justice then why didn’t they call police when there was talk of activity up here? Because that’s why I’m here. I heard the same god damn thing.”

Powell pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“You boys are coming with me,” he said, resigned. “To give your statements about Patrick McKinney’s death to start and then we’ll see about the other thing.”

“I’ll give you my statement,” Wayne said dryly, “but you try to stop from trying to find my boy, you and I are gonna tangle, Cal.”

Powell opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was futile. “Fine.”

He looked over at Wayne and then frowned. “Where’s your truck, Wayne?”

Wayne hopped off the station wagon’s hood and patted it fondly. “Nancy Wheeler was wanting to write about the murder and my boy when I heard some of the neighbors talking about lights on up at the Lipton place. So I wanted to go see if it was Eddie and wouldn’t you know it the damn truck wouldn’t start so Nancy let me take her car.”

Powell nodded, but wisely said nothing. He let Wayne get into the car and drive off, before he turned to the other boys.

“We’re going to stay put until the coroner arrives,” he said pointing back and forth between Jason and Andy, “and then you are going to follow me to the station where you are going to tell me everything!”

~

Tag List: EIGHT SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle

[uncannydevotion]

So I was going through this account and your old account (loved you and your writing since foreverr), and I kind of saw how Liu/Sully are characterized as overprotective (I don’t know if that’s the proper term or if I’m even reading the character right lmao), but like…lowkey what would happen if theres a relationship and they become too suffocating and the s/o tries to break it off? Would they crash out? 😭 (in a possible yandere way?)

squeezing you affectionately i wasnt gonna write today i really wasnt but but but this got sent in and i just. here. here. take this.

warnings: written in one sitting and not proofread, yandere content, unhealthy relationships, dependency, stalking, overprotective behavior, behavior that can be considered obsessive, sully points a gun at you im sorry, implied kidnapping.

wc: 1.4k words.

Liu wasn't a bad guy.

You knew this intimately. Liu was far from a horrible guy. From the moment you met him, he was nothing but kind and understanding. He has his flaws, sure, but so does every other person. And those flaws never took away from how... nice he was.

It was easy falling in love with him, really. He never tried forcing anything on you, he always listened, he remembered everything you told him, even things that most people would consider minor. Honestly, you were shocked to learn that he wasn't already dating someone.

And Sully... well, he's not as nice as Liu.

It took you time to get used to him when he introduced himself to you. Unlike Liu, Sully didn't seem to really... care about people. He was selfish, and was the type to just do things without thinking much about how it could harm others. He never actively tried hurting others, but he never cared if he did either.

So when you found yourself falling in love with Sully as well, it left you feeling a bit... guilty, to be honest. Not only because Sully was... well... Sully, but also because you were already in love with Liu, so isn't it weird being in love with someone else too? But it didn't feel wrong loving them both.

To be honest, when you did start dating them, nothing changed. Liu was as kind as ever, if not a bit more openly affectionate, and Sully was still pretty mean at times, but he was less mean when you were around so... you'll take what you can get.

But it was perfect. You, and your two boyfriends in one body.

When Liu started becoming protective, you hadn't thought much of it. He'd freak out a bit over some small injuries you'd get. Small burns when you'd cook, the occasional time you'd trip over yourself and hit the ground. It was cute, honestly.

You understood that due to his past, he was deeply terrified of losing people. It's a fear of his that you tried your best to help him through, and it wasn't one that you ever thought could get out of hand.

Sure, Sully wouldn't sometimes stare at you for a few moments too long before sighing and saying something like, 'We should just lock you up.' but... he's always had a weird sense of humor, so you never let it get to you.

But... the longer you dated them, the more... suffocating they'd started to become. With Liu, if you were out and didn't update him on your wellbeing every few hours, he'd call you until you answered. He used to not stay the night all that often, but now he insists on staying with you every night, to ensure your safety.

If you went out with friends, he'd basically interrogate you about them. Who are they? Where do they work? How did you meet? Would you trust them to keep you safe? How do you know you can trust them?

And Sully wasn't any better. He would basically stalk you whenever you went out, and he wasn't shy about it either. Whenever you'd try talking to him about it, he'd just shrug and say something along the lines of, 'I'm just making sure you don't die.'

You're fairly certain he's even gone through your phone a few times, but you never brought it up because you didn't want to accuse him, either of them, of something if they didn't do it.

It hurt you to even have this conversation with them, but enough was enough.

"We should break up."

The words sounded wrong, but you refused to swallow them. Your heart was racing and you felt sick but you knew this was for the best. They were far too protective, and Liu seemed unhealthily dependent on you at times. Like he'd simply stop functioning if you disappeared. He needed help, help that you can't give him.

There's an expression of confusion, followed quickly by something akin to anguish when he registers your words. Liu seemed to struggle to speak for a moment, lips opening and closing for a few moments before he finally manages a small, "Why?"

And you explained it to him. You told him about how his protective behavior was starting to feel suffocating, how your friends were starting to distance themselves from you because he (of which you can only assume to be Sully) always glares at them whenever they're around, how your privacy felt nonexistent most days with them around.

It almost seemed as if he was going to accept that this was happening, but then there was a shift. His expression smoothed out for a moment before he looked at you like you were the crazy one here.

"No."

And it didn't take a genius for you to realize you were speaking with Sully now, from the way he seemed completely apathetic to your concerns.

"No? You can't just say no to someone breaking up with you, that's not how this works."

But your words didn't seem to reach him. That, or he was just choosing to ignore him because he just sweetly smiles in such a way that it makes your blood run cold, "I said no, angel." And his usual affectionate name for you sounding mocking rather than loving, something that put you on edge.

In the time that you've known Sully, you've never felt in danger around him. He went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, honestly, but now... now, you're reminded that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill another. What's stopping him from killing you?

"...You should leave. Now, please."

But Sully didn't move. He just stared, and it felt like he was looking right into your very soul, and it made you feel really sick.

"Fine, if you aren't going to leave, then I will," You huff, but you couldn't even stand up before he was pushing you back down on the couch, practically straddling you, and you could feel cool metal pressing against your forehead.

He... he just pulled a fucking gun on you. A mixture of shock and betrayal outweighs any fear you felt as you look up at Sully, half expecting him to just shoot you.

But he'd never do that, no.

Sully would never hurt you. Could never hurt you. He just needs you to behave, that's all.

"Don't look so distraught," He coos, his free hand coming up to lovingly cup your cheek and wipe away tears you hadn't realized were falling, "You know I can't let you leave. Liu needs you," He pauses, a look of consideration before he softly admits, "I need you."

The admission would've been romantic. He'd never really verbally expressed his love for you before, but now it just... it makes you feel wrong.

"We can just consider this a lover's quarrel, yeah? Make up and move on,"

It didn't seem like Sully had any plans on listening to a single word from your mouth unless it's something he wanted to hear, but you shake your head nonetheless, "I don't want to 'make up and move on'. You're aiming a fucking gun at me for crying out loud! How can I possibly move on from that?!"

And he rolls his eyes at your words, as if you were being dramatic over something you had every right to be angry about. It almost seemed as if he wanted to say something, but his gaze unfocused, and when he blinked, that annoyance was gone.

Instead, he looked mortified, lowering the gun against your head.

And for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. If you can't convince Sully to let you leave, then surely you can convince Liu, right?

But he didn't pull the gun away. He wasn't aiming it at you, but it was there, and that told you everything you needed to know. Liu wasn't going to let you leave either.

"I'm sorry," He whispers over and over again, and there's tears in his eyes as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. As if forcing you to stay with him was painful to him.

And maybe it was, but...

This world is simply far too dangerous. How is he supposed to keep you safe when you want to go out all the time? It's... it's for the best, he thinks, to take you away. Somewhere where no one can find you, that way you'll be safe. The thought makes Liu sick, guilt eating at him, but... nothing can take you from him.

He and Sully will keep you safe, always. Even if you hate them for it.