#don���t get it twisted

[otomes-world]

"Under fantasy disguise" part Pomefiore (1)

Fantasy AU “Under fantasy disguise”: world lore (prologue) heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia trigger warning: some self hate, reader in really bad state (but there is nothing grafic), barrely edited text.

At some point, the clouds flying past completely erased the idea of time and space. Slowly brightening sky marked the beginning of a new day. The lump in throat, the approaching nausea and self-loathing merged into one large layer, settling like a burden in your chest. A heaviness that radiates unpleasantly throughout the whole body.

You wanted to pry open chest if only it could give at least a little peace of mind.

However, the much-desired peace would not come. The subconscious told you, or maybe you yourself understood that you couldn’t let go of the situation. Frankly, what happened - all at once - was not your fault. It wasn’t, but selfishness and the banal desire to survive stuck needles into such a subjective concept of conscience, which you didn’t even suspect. When you live in a world of technology - when you don't have to make tough decisions - the world seems simpler.

You didn’t know where the carpet was going. Perhaps it was simply obeying your unspoken impulse to get away. Anywhere. To a place where it will be at least a little easier.

However, during the time you spent in this world, you managed to come to terms with the thought: it won’t get better. The further you plunged into unfamiliar lands and got to know its inhabitants, the harder the blow to your mental health. At some point you thought that the happiest time of your forced journey was wandering in the mountains.

Taking a shuddering breath, you froze abruptly, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Something flew past at incredible speed. Glancing briefly at the sleeping cat, you clenched your fists, your nails - or what was left of them - digging into the skin of your palms. The pain helped calm down a little and focus on surroundings. A moment and something flew by again, this time very close.

It didn't seem to you.

Waking Grimm up with your left hand, you tried to look down. The carpet did not slow down, and therefore it was difficult to try to see anything. The barely brightening sky did not help at all. Suddenly the fabric shook and you felt something cold millimeters from your other hand. Imagining the worst, you looked down, noticing the thin scratch on your skin and the arrow.

Everything inside you suddenly stopped.

Heart began to beat sharply, making already labored breathing difficult. The mind tried to come up with a solution, an escape, something, but apparently the third arrow was the last warning. The last one before something incomprehensible collided with the carpet, paradoxically sobering and frightening at the same time. Intuitively stretching out your hands towards the sound of meowing, you realized in horror that you were falling down. The carpet, which had saved your life several times, was flailing in the air, trying to extinguish the flames that were engulfing the fabric faster and faster.

You closed your eyes and prepared to fall. The sharp blow, it felt like it, knocked out the remaining oxygen on the branch, as did a further fall onto the wet grass. The pain darkened vision. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t have the strength to unclench teeth and utter even a sound. Bent over, you still clutched Grimm to your chest, simultaneously trying to think about something good.

Heartslabyul still caused waking nightmares, but there were incredibly beautiful roses there. Flowers. Pleasant baking aroma. The softly shining sun.

A slow, careful breath literally created a storm inside. The lungs protested, the muscles tensed to the limit. It would be so easy to close your eyes and plunge into darkness if it weren't for the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. Your attacker was still somewhere nearby.

Sitting up with an effort of will, you could hardly resist so as not to fall back. Your side was burning, and the notorious stars were flying before eyes. What kept you from giving up was the realization that the breathing of the cat, limp in your arms, was becoming weaker. The fear of being alone in this world turned out to be enough of an incentive to go against everything: fate, a tired body and, possibly, broken bones.

A rustling sound came very close, and you tensed, preparing for the worst. Having spotted a dry branch nearby, you wondered how much time and effort it would take to grab it. There was a rustling sound again, and this time the steps took him by surprise, but a child appeared from behind the bushes. Even in the semi-darkness, you noticed his light gray hair and pointed ears. Gradually, two more appeared behind him: one with burgundy strands sticking out to the sides and a gloomy expression on his face, and the second, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

The very first, apparently the main one of the trio, took a step forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture, "How are you feeling? How many fingers am I showing?"

You just shook your head, closing your eyes. The voice of reason insisted that you had to run, but fear for Grimm did not allow you to take even a step..

"Us.. can.. help.. you.. "you didn’t recognize your own voice. It sounded so quiet and muffled that you doubted whether you were heard. Your throat burned, but you opened your mouth again to repeat the request as many times as necessary.

"Dominic, it’s not a good idea to bring someone you don’t know home, is it?" The gloomy child spoke, and for a second you again started to panic. "If we bring everyone we meet and cross, we ourselves will soon become the King’s target."

King? That's all you needed. Previous territories also had heads, but facing the “royal family” sounded much more terrible and problematic

"..only a night.. I can.. stay in the forest.. only Grimm.." It seemed like torture to pronounce every word. Your vision was blurry, but you were obliged to hold out.

“Another guest won’t be such a problem,” Dominic answered. "Can you get up?"

No. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to get up. You couldn't even lie to yourself. You didn’t even have to answer, the main one came up and extended his hands to the cat. With trembling hands, struggling not to pull them away, you allowed the cat to be taken away

"Groom, stay and look after last one. Shelpi and I will go get Neige"

The one who was called Groom grumbled without ceasing, but still approached you. Watching the children disappear among the greenery, you allowed yourself to relax. At least Grimm was safe.

"Hey. Hey! Come to your senses!"

You felt someone shaking your shoulder, but you couldn’t make out anything else. Only at some point did you hear someone’s worried voice, but you couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying.

You came to your senses, then fell into oblivion again. Voices, sounds, light caused dizziness and rejection. The only thing you remembered throughout the entire chaotic state was that pleasant voice and someone’s warm hands.

"You woke up!" Someone voiced it before you even realized it yourself. It’s just that at some point you stopped distinguishing between reality and a dream, but it seems that this time you were definitely in reality. "Wait, I'll call Dominic"

This name fluttered familiarly in memory. That's right, that was the name of the bright child. Following with an unfocused gaze the young man - although now in your eyes he was just a colored spot - who quickly rushed off somewhere, leaving you for a minute.

Closing your eyelids, you tried to focus on the present. You weren't abandoned in the forest, that's a plus. The attacker didn't show up yesterday, or maybe you just weren't found. The questions “Who” and “Why” remained unanswered. It would be possible to close your eyes and not chase your tail, as before, but your intuition suggested that this time it would be different. That this was just the calm before the next storm. But you no longer had the strength to look for shelter so as not to be carried away to the mercy of fate.

A quiet knock brought you back to reality. It was strange, the young man didn’t seem to lock the door. Opening your eyes slightly, you squinted, trying to make out the newcomer. As you thought, it turned out to be the same child. Next to him stood someone your age - maybe a little older or younger - with a friendly smile. The corners of your lips slightly twitched upward, but they couldn’t become the same full-fledged smile.

"Are you feeling better now?" Asked the child, who continued speaking after a nod from you. “You’re probably still confused, so I’ll try to speak more slowly. My name is Dominic, my dwarf brothers and me have been living in this forest for a very long time. And this,” he pointed at the young man, “is Neige. Although you may already know him. Let me know what happened to you?"

"…if.. I knew.. someone attacked us while we were flying on the carpet.. we turned over and fell, Grimm.. Grimm! Where is he?" An attempt to sit up abruptly was unsuccessful, causing more circles under the eyes and weakness. A brunette who appeared next to you prevented you from turning over and falling out of bed

"Your friend is okay!" The dwarf immediately answered hastily. "He, like you, needs to rest. But you need to do this first. During the fall, you broke a rib" you immediately touched your burning side. “It will take time to heal.”

Having given a short thank you to him and the boy, as a sign that you were already feeling better, you began to hastily rebuild your plan of action. It was impossible to linger, but on the other hand, going in the current state was no less stupid. You understood that the fall could not have happened without something - there was a limit to luck and the capabilities of the human body - but the awareness did not brighten up what was happening.

"Do you know who could have attacked you?“ The young man asked softly, holding out a glass of water that had come from nowhere. However, you weren't complaining.

“No.. No, this is my first time in these lands,” after a couple of sips it became easier to speak. “We were flying… yes, we were flying,” you strained your tired memory. "…someone shot! I remembered the arrow!" Looking hopefully at Dominic, you saw a worried look. As if he realized who exactly attacked you and the Grimm. For some reason, you doubted whether it was worth finding out the truth. "This is not someone from the royal family, right?"

You tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic even to your own ears. For some reason, the duo didn't appreciate your joke.

“It might have been Rook,” you frowned, another new name. “He works as a hunter and serves Vi,” the young man tried to keep the conversation going with the same light laugh, which came out better than yours. However the impression he made was the same - he did not inspire confidence.

“Vi?” You asked carefully, afraid to confirm your fears.

"Exactly, you don’t know. That's what I call Vil, he is the king of these lands. We saw each other quite often at the castle!"

You were doomed. You could see the world literally crumbling before your eyes. This is exactly what was needed for happiness. Purely to confirm what you already suspected, you turned to Dominic, "What is the probability that… how did you call him, Rook?.. Reported everything to the king?"

Silence was a convincing enough answer.

Despite the chance of being discovered, you remained in the dwarves' house. It was inspired by the hopelessness and persuasiveness of Neige, who took upon himself the responsibility of your personal doctor. Although this was too strong a word, the process was still more led by the chief of the dwarves. Gradually you got to know the others.

Groom and Shelpi were part of the company that day. Although the first one was rude and hot-tempered, you couldn’t call him bad. It just took some getting used to. Shelpi was his opposite. A dwarf with a perpetually sleepy look, although you could understand him. In your current state, all you wanted to do was sleep.

There were four more gnomes: Timmy, Toby, Snick and Hop. You saw Timmy only from afar and only in someone else’s company. Perhaps he was just nervous around strangers. Toby was a sweetheart whose memory failed him more often than usual. Hop was a classic example of a cheerful child, and Snick's specialty was his perpetual allergies.

Watching their noisy but cheerful routine was a pleasant change from the nightmare that was happening in your life before. Nevertheless, you remembered Heartslabyul’s experience and were in no hurry to relax.

The more time you spent in their friendly company, the stronger the feeling of guilt grew. Understanding that they would come for you. Now or a little later didn't matter. Just like how many troubles befell the cat’s head for the company. Asking to take care of Grimm was another breaking through the ceiling called “selfishness,” but… that incident made it clear that problems were pouring down on your head more and more often. Their consequences were becoming increasingly difficult to correct.

Living with guilt was unbearable.

So much so that you were unable to look into the eyes of your faithful friend, who has literally gone through thick and thin with you, and you decided to leave him.

You didn't even hope for forgiveness. Deep inside you understood that this was just an attempt to come to an agreement with yourself, a struggle for the opportunity to hate yourself a little less. Looking at the recovering cat, this thought took root more firmly in consciousness.

The pathetic excuse “it will be better this way.”

Gradually you were allowed to take short walks. Your side still hurt, as did the wounds on back, but the fresh air helped to distract you and not drown in self-flagellation. The only activity for which you always had the strength.

Hoping to find your things, you tried to find the crash site from memory. It was stupid, especially since those trinkets were of no value. To some extent, they simply gave an imaginary sense of belonging. Reminders of your home world, which seemed farther and farther away day by day.

Moving aside the branches, you were finally able to find the desired clearing. It was like all the others, but some internal awareness did not allow you to pass by.

Check and leave.

Simple plan - simple implementation. Searching among the bushes without bending down was another challenge. Having sat down, you rose to your feet again with great difficulty, the shooting pain in your lower back made itself felt every time you tried to find your treasured things.

Breathing heavily, you leaned your hand on the trunk of a nearby tree. A little break won't hurt anyone, that's for sure in your condition. Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the clearing once again, making mental notes of where the bag might have been thrown.

There was not a soul around, or at least it seemed so. Perhaps over time you became too suspicious, but at the moment you could not leave the feeling of being watched, no matter how stupid it may sound. Who could be in the deep forest, right? Unless… who attacked you and the Grimm that day. You tsked and took another breath, trying to calm down.

It was dangerous to return to the house: you didn’t want to let Neige and his friends down. Trying to escape in an unknown direction was reckless. You didn’t know these places, one wrong turn and Robinson Crusoe will appear in this forest. Although you doubted that this world had heard of him. The possibility of becoming a discoverer was not encouraging.

"Ma cheri! What a rarity it is to find such a beautiful creature in such a dense thicket,” a voice that came out of nowhere took you by surprise.

Turning towards the sound at a speed you didn’t know you were capable of, you saw a strange blond-haired young man.

“Are you… talking about me?..” You asked carefully, simultaneously looking for a way to escape. Now the suspicions no longer seemed groundless.

"Oui! Yes and yes! A triple "yes" is not enough to prove the sincerity of my words. How brave and reckless are walks in the wilds, where every animal and people poses a danger. I had already decided that knowledge, Fata Morgana, which had darkened my mind and revealed such a fragile angel in human form!"

He spoke a lot and not very clearly, sometimes you lost the thread of the story. In your best times, you didn’t like such conversations, let alone today. However, this was a good opportunity to look at the blond. He was wearing a cream-colored tunic, loose pants and a hat with a fluffy white feather.

It was necessary to come up with an excuse and as quickly as possible. Perhaps you would be able to wander around, wait for him to leave, and return home without consequences. However, this would be too loud a statement. If there's one thing life has taught you, it was not to think ahead of time.

"Thank you, I guess?.. Did you want something?" You decided to ask directly.

"Oh, that's right. Wandering among the flora and fauna, I found one interesting little thing,” he sadly shook his head while you did everything to prevent doubts from showing on your face. "Obeying the will of my heart, I am trying to find the owner."

Emphasizing the last word, he smiled, narrowing his eyes. The nature of the emotion that flashed through them made you shiver.

"Well, I wish you good luck in your search, sir.."

"Hunt! But you can call me by my name, just Rook,” digging your nails into the palms, you kept a friendly expression on your face through an effort of will. The blond raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, and then also calmly began to close the distance. "I don’t dare to hope that you have heard of me. However, like me about you. His Majesty, Roi du Poison, has been wanting to meet you for quite some time, and who are we to refuse him."

Looking ahead at the outstretched hand and the unshakable figure of - as Neige said - the hunter, you doubted that you had any chance of escape.

[thegeminisage]

i miss the dragon age kink meme. on the da kink meme i could safely post a number of poorly written and embarrassing short stories and they'd get so lost even i can't find them anymore (i've tried). what am i supposed to do in 2024? post something on ao3? get real

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au

gn reader

Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.

You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.

Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.

“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.

He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.

“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.

He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”

He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.

“I’m just another hungry animal…”

Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.

“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”

He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.

Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.

At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.

You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 

Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.

You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?

But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.

He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.

You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.

You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 

It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.

“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”

The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.

“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”

[blastoqueen]

Sunrise.

Chapter 5

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)

Content warnings: None

Comments: English is not my first language. I recommend you to watch the deleted scene where Noa and Mae talk about dreams and the telescope, it's not too important but it gives a tiny little bit of context for a short paragraph in the story. Enjoy!

Anaya woke up in the morning with more energy than usual and went to the main tower to look for his best friend, hoping they could do some climbing later, maybe he could convince Noa to go beyond the valley and explore a little more the ancient Echoes civilizations. However, when he arrived at Noa´s room, he found nothing but his empty litter and Dar, who was just waking up.

“Dar!” Anaya said, feeling a little invasive “Good morning. Noa?”

The female ape yawned deeply and scratch her belly.

“Dar?”

“Oh, Anaya, I don´t know” she said uninterested, yet calm; getting up to start her day.

“You… not worried?”

“Why would I? Noa… old enough. Not a baby. Probably… out”

Anaya left the tower, feeling a little worried. Ever since the kidnapping, he started to feel uneasy, like he should be alert and ready to fight. When he couldn’t find his friends, he felt this tight in his stomach.

“It´s called anxiety” Noa explain when they were settling their home again. Anaya was brave enough to express his feelings to his leader, hoping he could give him a peace of mind “Raka… told me so”

Soon enough, that word had spread like a quick virus among the apes. Everyone was using it. Noa wondered if they were truly anxious from what happened, or if they were just interested in using a new word.

Walking through the village, Anaya found his best friend sleeping next to the horses, with a blanket over his head, covering him from the sun.

“Noa! What are you… doing?”

The leader woke up and rapidly sat. He looked around him and spotted Anaya looking down on him like he was crazy. Maybe he was.

“What?”

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, not reason” Noa answered, feeling shy and oddly embarrassed. His friend gave him a look “Okey, I was out… all night. When I came back… to tired to go up. Sleep here”

Anaya looked confused.

“Where?”

“Uh… to the lighting dancers’ field”

“What?!” Anaya screamed with excitement, Noa hushed him with his hand and took him to a more private place, just a few meters away from the village.

“Who is… the lucky one?” the eldest asked.

“What?”

“You know”

“I do not”

“Noa. Romantic place. Take girlfriend” Anaya was too excited at this point, giggling and jumping around his friend, happy to be the first to know the details of how the date had gone.

“No, Anaya, it wasn´t… like that” Noa sighed mildly annoyed. Kind of disappointed.

It had been just a sweet moment between Mae and him, it wasn´t a mating ritual, nor a proposal. It was just a night out with a girl he cared about and wanted to show her something nice and pretty.

He didn’t want anybody to think he was trying to marry Mae (´cause he was not). That would be weird. An ape and an animal, getting together? Now way. That was just unnatural, wasn´t it? It would be like marrying a horse. “Except it would not be like that, and you know it” Noa thought. “She has the same features as you. Apes and human… we are not that different” Except they kind of were “But she is smart. She is not like those animals”

“It was just a nice walk”

Anaya snorted at his answer, like it was an obvious lie.

“With… who?”

Noa wondered if he could trust his friend, in a normal situation he would, but Anaya had imagined a whole scenario about a mate and a proposal, he didn’t want him to get his ideas twisted.

“Mae”

The ape stood in silence. The leader couldn’t figure out his expression. It was a mix between shock and something else, maybe fear?

“But I told you… it wasn’t like that” Noa tried to explain, his voice sounded nervous, and he knew that it seemed like he was lying “Really. The Echo never saw the dancers before”

The silence was getting unbearable, he needed to get out of there soon. Acting annoyed and angry, Noa pushed lightly Anaya to the side and started to walk towards the village.

“Wait” Anaya said, “Did she… like the lights?”

Noa turn around and looked at his friend, a kind smile was growing in his face. Noa tried to give him the same gesture, but the anxiety was just too strong.

“Yes, she liked the lights”

“Enjoyed the night? Both”

“Yes, it was nice”

Anaya walked towards his best friend, with open arms and a sympathetic smile, ready to hug the other ape.

“Then… that is all… that matters”

---------

It was a chilly night, not cold, but Mae felt the need to get a blanket to covered herself from the wind. She was getting goosebumps and a slightly runny nose.

She was with a group of apes, sitting in a circle and just telling stories and legends, some were made up and some were real things that happened in the village a while ago. The human was sitting next to Soona and Case, listening to a semi old male ape talking about the time he saw a creature bigger than a horse, with big paws and very fat. He said it attacked his wife, but fortunately they made it to the village and loose the animal on the way. The other apes were making fun of his story, saying he was probably making all up.

Mae supposed the beast he was talking about was a bear, but she stayed silent. She didn’t know exactly why she felt so scared revealing more stuff about the world to the apes. Except she did know.

She was terrified of them sometimes. She could see how they were improving their speech, at least Noa. Mae tried to fake an ape way of speaking, but it was very difficult to pretend and not let difficult words come out of her mouth. It was easier to stay silent. And the reason? She felt like she was teaching them human ways. And that felt like a nightmare came true. Mae saw the evolution among the apes. Spreading.

She learned to be around them, to joke and live a simple life surrounded by the apes. But she felt like crossing a line when it came to “teach” them.

They learned fast. Noa was the fastest. She remembered their conversation at the fire camp when they were after Proximus, how the ape asked about what they saw inside the telescope. She lied and said she didn’t know. Because she was too scared to talk about things only humans on earth knew about.

That same night, she observed Noa, fixing the electric weapon. She was terrified.

“Cold?” said a male voice behind her. It was Noa, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Yeah, a little” Mae answered. The ape sat beside her, squishing between her and Case.

The female ape rolled her eyes and move next to Soona so Noa wouldn’t suffocate her.

Instead of giving Mae the blanket, the male wrapped it around her shoulders. The human girl stood still.

“What are they talking about?” the leader asked in a quiet voice, so he doesn’t interrupt the story telling.

“About everything” Mae said “That old ape saw a beast one time. Nobody believes him”

“Oh, the big paws monster?” Noa snorted.

“Have you heard his story?”

“Yes, he tells it all the time” Noa took a peach from his little bag and started to eat it. Mae noticed how he only eats with his mouth close now. Something he must have learn from the human girl.

“Do you not believe him?” Mae inquired with a rise eyebrow.

“Nobody does”

“Maybe we could—” the girl was interrupted by a different ape, pointing direct at her.

“Okey everyone! Maybe it´s… time… for the Echo… to tell a… story”

Some apes were exciting to hear what the human had to say, while others stayed silent, cautious.

“Oh, I… I don´t really have a story”

“Everyone has a story” Noa said with a grin, he was enjoying watching Mae get embarrassed.

“Can it be made up?”

“Of course”

“Well, uh… there is this story” Mae started “It was very popular in my home. Every kid knew about it. It´s about a princess, well, she wasn´t really one—”

“What is a… princess?” an ape asked from the opposite side of the circle.

“Uh… they used to rule kingdoms—”

Everyone started to murmur, scared, fresh memories of Proximus and the kidnapping.

“But they were nice kingdoms, they were gentle and kind, and showed mercy” That was a lie “Anyway, she was not really a princess, she was just a girl who worked really hard to get what she wanted. On the other hand, there was this boy, who was actually a prince. So, this prince gets turned into a frog by an evil man, and only a true love kiss could turn him back into a human. Then, this girl, found the frog and became very fond of him, they kissed, and the prince turned back into a human, they were happy after that”

There was a moment of complete silence, Mae held her beath, not knowing what to do or expect. Then, a whole lot of questions were asked, all at the same time, the girl tried to answer all of them, without revealing too much or making them confused. That wasn’t the whole story, she skipped a lot of details, but she knew the apes wouldn’t understand the concept of magic or human customs.

“How were… the princess?”

“They were beautiful girls with castles”

“The frog… talked? Like you?”

“Yes, he did. That is how they got to know each other”

After a whole bunch of questions, Noa noticed Mae getting overwhelmed, so he called it a night and send everyone to sleep.

He accompanied the Echo to her room, stopping at the door.

“Goodnight Mae. That was a good story” he said with a smile.

“Thank you”

“Sleep, princess”

[carolmunson]

18+ stoned!reader x stoned!eddie, some semi smut found this in my drafts from a couple days ago that i wrote when i was...also stoned. utter nonesense, most of it.

“Shh—hehe-shh, no, no, we have to be — hahaha — sh, sh, quiet,” he whisper yells, stumbling over himself while he nearly knocks a lamp off of a side table in Steve Harrington’s living room. The rest of the gang filled the guest bedrooms, leaving you both on the pull out couch.

His sweaty hand clasps yours as you finally make it to the kitchen, squinting in the light against the white tiles.

“Ugh, put the dimmer on,” you whine into another peal of ‘quiet’ giggles.

“Okay, okay,” he nods, leaning against the wall while he twists the light switch knob, the lights going to a low yellow.

“That’s better — shit,” he huffs, grinning.

“What?” you grin back,

“M’stoned as shit, babe,” he laughs, rubbing his swollen red eyes.

“Me—haha, me too,” you laugh back. You both make your way to the abandoned s’mores ingredients on the counter, the reason for the adventure to the kitchen.

“I don’t really get marshmallows,” he says, popping one into his mouth, “Li’ I get them, buh I don’ really get them.”

“True, true,” you nod, breaking a graham cracker in half, staring at the crumbs on the marble, “They’re like — oh my god — holy shit, they’re a fake food.”

“Babe, fuck — you’re so right,” he nods, “Like what’re they even made of?”

“Like…plastic, babe. I think they’re plastic,” you nod back, eyes as wide as they can go — and it’s not wide at all, “Like from space. They’re space plastic.”

“They’re totally space plastic,” he agrees, putting another one in his mouth, “Tasthy, shug-ry, spacthe, plasdic.”

“M’so thirsty,” you complain, turning the sink on with little grace, leaning forward to drink from the faucet.

“Aw, shit, me too — move,” Eddie grumbles, holding his hair back and hip bumping you out of the way.

“Hey!” you whine, hip bumping him back, knocking your forehead against his to get back to the water.

“You hey!” he laughs back, face half reproachful and half mischievous, “I’ll count to five and then hahaha, then it’s my turn.”

You drink quick while he counts down, taking turns in intervals of five until you both think you’ve been drinking water for hours.

“3, 4…”

“Okay enough, you’re waterboarding me,” you gasp after a gulp, turning the sink off.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“No Ed, you don’t even know what that means.”

“No you,” he tuts, leaning in for a kiss.

“No you,” you tut back, letting him kiss you softly. Unsurprisingly, you both let out simultaneous groans, knowing you’re both on shaky ground if you keep at it. It takes little effort for him to convince you to sit up on the island counter so his hips can line up against yours, ringed and tattooed hands gripping your thighs without thought or care behind it, just need. Just bare need from the roots. He pushes forward, the hard on tenting his boxers pressing up flat against you. Two more breathy groans coming from between your kisses while he rocks against your panties.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he whispers against your lips.

“Sss…hmmm, it’s okay,” you mumble out, swollen eyes now shut while your body tingles through with pleasure, “S’feelin’reallygood babe.”

“You all extra sensitive?” he asks, the giggles gone, just eyes that want you — brain focused now on chasing the pleasure in his groin.

“Yeah,” you whimper, his chest pressing up against yours when he brings his mouth to your neck. To your spot. The whine you let out is a little too loud and you both know it — enough that he covers your mouth while he keeps going, hips still grinding in a steady rhythm against you. He tugs you down back to the floor by your hips, turning you around without a second thought, oversized t-shirt rucked up to your waist.

“You want me?” he asks, pulling your panties to the side. You nod hurriedly.

“Please,” you whisper, hips wiggling — which makes him laugh, which makes you laugh, and then you look at the marshmallows on the counter and it’s space plastic all over again. Giggles and kisses while he gets ready to ease into you and put you both to bed exhausted.

“I hope the aliens don’t come,” you murmur between sloppy pecks, “For the space plastic.”

The light in the kitchen gets bright, bright, bright, “We’re getting abducted babe.”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve’s annoyed voice echos from the other end of the room, “You guys are being so loud.”

You and Eddie separate like embarrassed high schoolers who got caught kissing behind the bleachers. Like dad walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

“Sorry, Harrington,” Eddie smirks, “We were just—”

“Getting water!” you interrupt.

“Yeah I see that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s all over the floor.”

He’s not wrong, it is, the two of you looking at the tile like kids who are definitely in trouble.

“We’ll clean it up Steve, sorry,” Eddie assures, much more apologetic now.

“Just — go to bed guys,” he sighs, “Or I’m making you sleep in separate rooms next time.”

When he leaves you both toss each other a look, mocking Steve’s exasperated face with another silent outbreak of breathy giggles. After wiping up the water, you put away the snacks together and click the light off, settling back down in the pull out couch under the covers. The high now holding you down in a cozy grip, making your eyes lull and your breaths slow.

“M’sleepy,” you whisper under the crisp sheets.

“Me too,” he nods, intertwining his limbs with yours like he does every night. Curly hair creeping onto your face while he settles his head in the crook of your neck, “But babe?”

“Yeah?” you ask into the quiet of the room, eyes closed, sleep pulling you further and further away.

“M’gonna rail you when we get home tomorrow,” he mutters, half asleep.

“M’kay,” you nod, “Thass—that sounds good. I like that. I’ll get us a ticket.”

“Hm?”

“For the rail…for the railroad.”

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road,” he sings quietly.

“All the live long day…” you both harmonize, more giggles, sleepy giggles.

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road, just to pass the time away…”

“Guys,” Steve’s sharp whisper calls from the stairs, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steve,” you mumble in unison, singing the song in quiet whispers — falling asleep before you even make it to the end.

[kombuuuu]

HEYY!!! Can you maybe write a fic or small drabble where fem!reader wants hobie to hang upside down so they can ‘spider man kiss’.

(also i luv the way you write hobie :P)

Spider Kisses

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

“What’re you— oh!”

small thingyyyyy, added a little twist tho C:

—

“Hobie?” Your voice rang throughout the empty alleyway behind your apartment, light disappearing behind the building wall your lover was currently — decorating.

“Wh— Oh! [Name], babe, come look a’ this.”

You partner turned to you, currently hanging from a suspended pole connecting one building to another.

Webs wrapped around his ankles to keep him hanging upside-down. Left hand holding a green can of spray paint, and right holding a paint ridden cloth.

His shirt was riding up (down?) due to gravity, the small peak of skin covered in different paint streaks that matched the tones the wall was now bearing.

“what’re you doing up there?”

He shook the van again, spraying a little detail onto the mural, then wiping a line through the fresh paint to reveal the colour underneath.

“‘M paintin’, love.”

He turned to you, synthetic eyes wide and emoted.

“C’mere, come try.”

He shook the cloth in a ‘come hither’ motion, paint flecks landing on his shirt. You approached him happily, getting close to his mask-clad face.

“Don’ get too close t’ the fumes now, babe.” You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, turning back towards the art to get your first real look at it.

A low whistle came from behind you, “Nice view.”

“Shut it, bug.”

“Arachnid.”

“Whatever.”

You felt Hobie grab his web, releasing his ankles and dropping down by one arm. His feet hurting the ground with a small scuff.

Taking the first good look at his creation, you noticed how you were the centre of it. A dazzling smile with your features painted in a light you’d never known. He’d made you feel so beautiful.

The colours behind you complimented the shades of your hair and strokes of abstract making your features evermore admirable.

“Jesus, Hobie — this is gorgeous.”

“All you, babe.”

He crowded up behind you, letting his slender hands carter’s the skin along your waist and stomach. His muffled voice dropped low to your ear. “Like this, doll.” His right hand travelled up your arm, sliding over yours and disconnecting to wipe at the fresh paint.

His left hand stayed put against your abdomen, squeezing unconsciously. He handed you the cloth, watching your fingers wrap around the fabric and bringing his hand back to your upper arm, rubbing along your skin in a soothing matter.

“Now drag it along there, yeah? Right where it’s still wet.”

You snorted at the innuendo. Hobie scoffing at your childish thoughts and softly pinching your skin.

“Oh, grow up.”

You refocused, dragging your hand along the shade of purple and blue. Streaking them together and revealing the pink underneath.

“Good, you’re a natural at this point.”

You laughed lightly, turning your head towards his.

“It was one stroke, Hobes.”

He winked, a devilish smirk rising his smile lines. “All it takes wit’ you, ain’t it?”

“Oh my god, you’re crude.”

“Nah baby, ‘m honest ‘s all.”

You brought your hand back towards you looking up at the painting again. "Finishing touches."

You gave him a quick, curious "hmm?", before you felt the cloth leave your hands too fast for you to realise. The "thwip" of his webs alerting you of his methods — right as the sound registered in your head, he had shot another back onto the aforementioned pipe, and reached to swipe at the paint around your hair, melting it into you and making you stand out stark against the cohesive colours. "Looks good, dun' it babe?"

"Uhuh."

He spared you a glance, smiling under his mask at the distracted sound of your voice, when he caught you watching him, and not his painting — he could excuse it.

A thought had breached your head, one that had been popping up ever since you had gone to dimension 1806 with him.

—

"Hobie, I'm not a spider person! I can't leave!"

"But I made you a watch?" "

Yes— thank you, I love it. But also that's not the point."

"But the watch.."

"Fuck, fine. Whatever. Don't use that tone on me again."

"Say it's for science."

"Fuck science."

—

That day you had found something.. intriguing. A comic. With a rather interesting cover design. Spiderman — not yours — plastered on the front, upside down, with his mask folded up and kissing Mary Jane. It was probably the most romantic thing you'd ever seen. And now you had the chance.

"Baby."

Hobie stopped wiping the excess paint, giving you his full attention. "Yeah doll, what's 'e matter?"

"Can you— do the thing.. you were doing before?"

He gave you a quizzical look, eyes in his mask squinting. "Painting? I'm almost done, sweethear'. Now I just got'a wipe way the—,"

"No.. no, the uhh.. Thing."

"Babe, ya' gon' have ta' be a bit more specific."

"The— upside down thing."

He snorted. Still hanging from his left hand. "Wh— yeah? I can do it, but—,"

"Don't question my decisions, Hobes."

"God damn, sweethear', speak t' me like 'at more often."

You laughed just as he did, glee falling from your lips as you shifted closer to him. He twisted his body to raise his legs above himself, wrapping the webs around his ankles once more.

"Now what—"

You brought your hands up to his spandex covered cheeks, tracing the lines of his cheekbones under the soft skin of your fingers. Tracing your hands higher, you toyed with the lip of his mask. Exposing the skin of his neck and watching his Adams apple bob out of nerve. "Can I?"

"Whatever you want, Luv."

You rolled the mask just past his nose, hooking it over his bridge, surprising him. He opened his mouth to question why you hadn't taken the whole thing off, before your lips stopped him.

He melted into you, your hands stroking over his cheeks and chin.

It was awkward trying to find your position at first, but you both quickly adapted, his hands finding the belt loops of your jeans and tugging you closer to him. You smiled into the kiss and he followed, laughing about how this was the motive to your request.

Your lips disconnected and he grinned like a fool.

"Tha's why?"

"Oh, shut. It was romantic."

He chuckled again, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Never said otherwise, pretty thing."

—

phone still broken , just like my heart hastag KIILL ME BOW

that was sarcasm but YIPEEEE HOBIEEEE!!!!!

[beuxwhoyouare]

Raised You Better

My son Jasper was a good kid. He was a star soccer player in school and got a scholarship to play in college, so I only saw him on holidays. I missed him so much and looked forward to our quarterly reunions.

Well that was until his most recent visit. He was being so distant and when I finally inquired why he was acting differently, he finally admitted he actually dropped out to pursue being a personal trainer.

I was shocked. He's always been a model child and did all me and my husband expected of him. Maybe it was all our time away working? Maybe I should've been home more instead of being at the lab. It felt like a punch in the gut. I mean sure he knew what he was doing thanks to all his time training for soccer but that's not a way to build a life?

My husband and I did it right. We met in college and supported each other through our advanced degrees and worked our way up in an international pharmaceutical company. Personal training is just so...surface level. He's supposed to be better than us. That's what you want for your children. No no no this is no good. I'll have to set him on the right path.

I knew of a special program at work that was rooted in natural medicine and meditation with a mad science twist. I set up Jasper with the "Sports Nutrition" department at work but it was actually our new experiment. It looked like a TENS muscle stimulator on crack. Several wires shot out of a relatively large dark grey box with a screen and several sliders on one side. I sat connected on the other side of the wall connected with the pads all over the top of my head. All I had to do was wait for Jasper to get hooked up. We sold it to him as a scientific way to curb cravings for sweets and unhealthy things, like an ozempic shot for the brain. In reality, I was told that the machine would take positive attributes from one source and strengthen them in the weaker mind.

I saw the lights flicker and anticipated that he had already been hooked up to the machine. I just laid back and rested while focusing on the importance of getting a quality education. Eventually, I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes again it was all so groggy. But I was sitting facing the opposite direction. I lifted my arms to wipe my eyes and gasped when I looked down. My boobs were gone and replaced with sizable mounds of muscle escaping a tiny white tank top. My arms and thick thighs now filled with tattoos....no?! This isn't supposed to be how it works

I told the lab techs who I am and that I was actually Meredith. They both looked at each other spooked but judiciously jotting down notes. After answering a few security questions, they agreed to believe that I was indeed not Jasper and it must be an unforseen side effect from the treatment.

That's when they explained the problem....When my body woke up, it also said it was Meredith. Could the experiment have basically overwritten the memory of my son with my own? I felt like I basically killed my own child. Grief swept over me. But then so did a bravado, a confidence, a giddiness? The two lab techs handed me a towel as they shyly avoided looking down at a tent forming in my shorts. Oh I guess the excitement led to a physical response.

In theory I get it as a scientist. I did in fact instill positive traits on my son. Granted, that also erased him seemingly. But also it's a chance at a new life full of new experiences. I'm a man now. And what a man indeed. I walked into the shower facility at the lab. I took off the outfit Jasper donned to the lab, if I was still a woman it'd be called skimpy and slutty. Tiny shorts with underwear built in and a virtually see through tank top. In two swift moves, I had taken everything off. I had seen my son naked as a child but this is different. He looked so much like his father....well I guess I looked so much like MY dad now. His genetics graced me well as I placed one hand on my pecs and another on my new dick. I squeezed both recoiling from the newfound pleasure. This was wrong right? Like I shouldn't be doing this....I felt disgusted with myself. No. This is for the betterment of Jasper's life. I'm going to let go of my past life....I'm Jasper now.

And what a life it will be. Years of playing sport and training, whew. I wasn't going to let him throw it away, I'll let it be a side job, maybe I'll own a business with a bunch of trainers under me but I won't be hustling like that. Not yet. I gotta learn the new me. I used my hands to trace the curves of each new tattoo, then moved on to each muscle. I poked and prodded before squeezing, then I remembered I had business to attend to. I took one hand and gently took hold of the warm fleshy rod under the steamy water pulsing down onto me. I pumped back and forth for a few minutes. Jasper was not sensitive at all...I shoved aside my reservations and gripped myself firmer and began jerking harder and faster. Eventually I introduced my other hand....oh he was girthy in the best way. I mean I am thick in the best ways. Harder and faster, it felt like I was floating outside of myself as my muscles took over almost like autopilot.

The steam radiated off my new musculature when it felt like I saw a flash of light. Shot after shot came out of my new rod. The lab walls had likely never seen a show like this but I was happy to christen them. The autopilot kinky thoughts continued to take over my new mind and body. I squatted down an licked the nearest wall as my cum dripped down. I knew Jasper was queer but I didn't know how he would respond to this kind of kink. I think he was a little freak because there was not one single butterfly in my stomach from this action. I quickly toweled off and headed to my apartment. I figured "Meredith" could find her way home.

The apartment smelled like a young male in college. A musk twirled around sweat and strong cologne. Foreign to me, but familiar to my new body. I couldn't control myself and ripped my clothes off...literally. My strength made it obscenely easy to tear them off in ways they weren't intended to. I wanted to try on all my new clothes. This body made everything look good.

My phone buzzed. It was one of "my" bros asking if I was coming down to the shoot. I played it off like I forgot and asked him to send me the "deets" again.

I threw on the nearest random shirt and bottoms and made my way to the warehouse address given. I guess "I" had agreed to help with the photoshoot to launch "our" new clothing line. A nearby table had Jasper's name on it and I quickly assumed the position taking off all my clothes and putting the skimpy clothing on. I channeled my new swagger as my bros began taking pics.

Oh I think I'm gonna like this. Hopefully I can find a cute twink or something soon. I really wanna put these thighs to work plowing someone's son or two.

[imagines--galore]

Hello!

could I get number 13 on the prompt list with Edmund Pevensie?

Summary: He was a King. You were no Royal. You were his friend, as he was yours. And despite the fact the people kept saying there was something more, you denied it. For a King could never love a commoner. Could he? Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. A/N: Yay! First request for Edmund!

"Really, Your Majesty! This is just too much!" You said, running your hand over the fabric of the dress the youngest Queen of Narnia had forced you to put on.

"It is not." The Queen stated with the stubbornness of a teenager, which she was. "And how many times I've told you to call me Lucy."

"Multiple times, Your Majesty." You responded with a cheeky grin, prompting Lucy to roll her eyes in a rather un-queenly manner.

Luch walked up to straighten the thin satin belt that rested around your waist. The dress truly was a work of art. Made of a material that you were sure cost more then the wages you received, it was soft and delicate to the touch. Not to mention the work down the front of the dress seemed to sparkle in a way that made you feel like a princess. And the color? A grey that almost appeared silver. A rather unusual color but somehow familiar.

You were sure you had seen that color before, just not sure where.

"The seamstress made a few mistakes with the measurements, and I don't want it to sit in the back of my wardrobe. It is simply too stunning to never see the light of day." You let out a small hum of agreement as you allowed yourself a moment of admiration. The mirror in front of you showed a figure dressed in a gown that was surely out of a fairy tale.

Then again, you had seen grander and more beautiful gowns, and the one you wore was rather simple in comparison. But in your eyes, it was perfect. You twisted where you stood, hoping to catch a glimpse of the details that adorned the back. Lucy smiled at your obvious admiration.

"Maybe if you wore it to the ball next week, Edmund will finally notice you."

The words jolted you out of your little haze of admiration.

Turning your gaze towards the now smiling Queen, you blinked. "Notice me?" You asked, though you knew the answer before it came. Had heard it one too many times from so many people and creatures you knew.

"As in confess that he loves you, just as much as you love him." You blinked. The effect of her words were immediate as a blush turned your cheeks a bright red. The sight of which had Lucy smiling even wider.

"I-I do-don-" You were cut off by Queen Susan, who had been sitting at a nearby writing table and going over the final preparations for the Winter Ball.

"Lucy, you mustn't assume such things, it is rather rude." Her younger sister pursed her lips in a stubborn line. "Though I must admit Y/n." The Gentle Queen continued, now looking towards you. "Edmund does seem to show more affection towards you then he does anyone. Even us."

Annoyance had being told off forgotten, Lucy chimed in. "And we're his siblings!"

You shook your head as you reached behind you to undo the dress, anything to occupy her hands and hide her face lest the two Queens see the blush on your cheeks. "Your Majesties are mistaken. King Edmund and I are simply friends. And even that is a miracle given how I'm a simply maid and he is a King."

Lucy frowned. "And what does that matter? Love should not have anything to do with it." Having stepped out of the gorgeous gown and into your everyday clothes, you shook your head. "No, but that is it, Your Majesty." Your words sounded unconvincing, even to your own ears. "I am not in love with your brother."

A lie.

                                          ————————–

You were in love with King Edmund.

Had been in love with him since the moment you had seen him.

Of course, you hadn't realized it then. Had not picked up on the fact that perhaps your heart raced because he was so near. How your heart leaped in your chest when he smiled at you. Or even how everything just seemed a little more magical when he was around.

You had met him by chance. Having finished your duties for the day, you had chosen to go down to the beach and collect some shells. You already had quite the collection but you always found new beautiful pieces to add to your collection. You had just straightened up from picking a rather pretty pink shell when the sound of an approaching horse had you looking to your left.

There he was, sitting atop a horse, with no saddle or rein, no entourage or crown adorning his forehead to show his status. The speed at which he rode his horse had you stepping back before he was even near you.

For reasons known only to Aslan, he came to a halt as he neared you. You had returned to your little expedition and was already digging through a small patch of sand where you had spied a star shaped shell. The sight of it had a bright smile forming on your lips, your eyes alight with joy at such a small, insignificant yet beautiful creation.

And Edmund had felt his heart clench at the sight of your sweet smile. A strange urgency bubbled in his chest. One he had never known before. One that compelled him to dismount from his horse and approach you. Though he stood a good few feet away as he watched you straighten and place the shell in your basket.

It was then that you became aware of him. You stood there as well, your basket tucked at the side.

He had stopped at the sight of you. And the both of you had simply looked at each other.

It was rather strange looking at a complete stranger in the eye. Normally you kept your head down and went about your work. But there was just something about him that had you meeting his gaze.

Him in his simple breeches, shirt and shoes, black hair swept away from his forehead, blowing gently in the salty air. Eyes alight with a light that you would see for months to come whenever you would run into him.

He knew it was not proper to stare, but he could not help himself.

You in your simple dress, with the hem wet from the waves that kept tickling your bare toes. The braid you kept your hair in, hardly able to keep the strands in place given how hard the wind was blowing. Your cheeks were flushed from being out in the sun for so long.

And yet Edmund had never seen a more prettier sight in all of Narnia.

Slowly, you smiled at him in a friendly manner. "Is there something that you needed?" You asked.

He shook his head. "I apologize for disturbing you on your outing My Lady, I was just curious why a young maiden would venture so far away from Cair. Assuming, you are from there." He quickly added, not wanting to make any false assumptions.

Giving a small nod, you confirmed his suspicions. "Yes, I'm from Cair. I work as a maid there." The both of you glanced down the length of the beach to where the castle shone brightly in the light of the slowly setting sun. "You're a little far out aren't you?" He asked with a smile to which you gave a sheepish one in return.

"To tell you the truth, I love to collect shells." You held up your basket to show the small collection you had gathered in the hour you had been at the beach. "And there aren't quite that many close to the castle, so I have to venture a little further ahead."

Meeting his eyes once more, you allowed yourself to admire how handsome he was. Surely he was a lord or something of the sort. Perhaps a visiting noble from Archenland? Edmund's line of sight shifted to the setting sun just behind you.

"May I escort you back to Cair? It is near sunset and the tide will be coming in." He offered, not wanting to leave your presence just yet. You glanced over your shoulder as well, before turning to give him a nod. "That would be appreciated thank you." You paused. "I do not believe you told me your name."

Edmund's smile faltered a little. He knew if he told you his name you would recognize him. Clearing his throat he decided on a little white lie. Or rather half-truth. "My name is Ed. And may I ask you for your name, My Lady?" You waved a hand in a dismissive manner. "I am hardly a Lady, but you may call me Y/n, Ed." It was a rather strange name, but then who was she to say anything.

With the horse following after the both of you at a slow pace, you and Ed began the walk back to the castle.

                                          ————————–

It took you longer then normal to return to the castle. Probably because the both of you were so lost in your conversation. You hardly noticed when his horse actually bypassed you and reached the back entrance of the castle by himself. You didn't care that you were late.

It wasn't everyday you met someone you could talk to like you were with Ed. It was strange. You wanted to tell him everything. And for someone who was very private with their thoughts, this was a huge surprise.

And you weren't the only one doing the talking. Edmund had always felt a little alone, even in his family. Before going to war, his father had been the only one to understand him. After coming to Narnia his siblings had begun to understand him too, but it just wasn't the same.

But then here you were. Someone he had just met, and he had never felt so understood in all his life. It was a little scary, how you were so inquisitive and were able to pick up on cues and read between the lines of every word that came out of him. You were sharp, clever and smart.

Yes, he knew all three words were synonymous, but he didn't care. They described you perfectly.

"Well I should head back inside." You finally said, once there was a brief lull in the conversation. You really didn't want to, but you had to get to sleep so you could work the next day. Ed gave a small nod. And was it your imagination, or did he look a little disappointed as well.

"I had a lovely time talking to you." You admitted with a bright smile. "And I shall be surely on the lookout for the book you mentioned. Perhaps I may find it in the local library." You had begun to climb up the stairs leading towards the backdoor. He would have to enter from the other side where the stables were.

Edmund continued to look at you as you ascended the stairs. You walked backwards so you could look at him even as you departed. Suddenly, he realized he didn't want you to leave. A burst of courage, one that would make his younger sister proud, had him bounding up a couple of stairs, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

A startled gasp left your lips as you looked down at him. He was still a few steps away, but even that distance felt intimate.

"Will I see you again?" He asked. The young King had no idea where this new side of him was coming from. He had always preferred solitude, and he was sure that the moment he left your presence he would revert back to his old self.

But for now, he would act on every impulse he could.

Just so he could be in your company again in the future.

You stopped short, a surprised look crossing your features as you blinked at him. Your gaze dropped from his face, to the hand that gripped yours. And though you were cautious around people you just met, something in you reassured you. Had you believing that you could trust him.

So you nodded, and the smile that lit up the entirety of his face was one that stayed with you till the next time you met.

                                          ————————–

It didn't take long for you to become aware of Ed, or rather King Edmund's true status. And though it did shock and embarrass you, not being able to recognize one of the Monarchs of your beloved country, the only thing that changed in your friendship were the titles. You began to call him Your Majesty, or King Edmund, whatever the situation asked for. And him, out of spite and knowing how much you hated it, called you My Lady.

Everything else stayed the same.

Your friendship. Your ability to know what was bothering one another. The fact that the both of you knew when the other was going through a hard time. He with his duties as a King, and you with your own problems.

The whole castle slowly became aware of your friendship, especially when Edmund would seek you out and would speak to you about the most recent book the both of you had read. He, like you, was an avid reader. Any book would do really.

Sometimes you would stop in the middle of your task, and simply stand with the King in the middle of the hallway, as the both of you discussed some new scientific theory being proposed by some cranky old centaur.

Other times you would burst into his study, frantically gesturing as you let out your frustrations concerning a character in whatever adventurous tale you were reading. He would put aside his work and just listen to you with that knowing smirk on his face.

Once he had let you rant for nearly ten minutes before handing you the second book and saying that hadn't been the ending. You had once thrown a book at his head for that.

He'd learned to not test you when it came to books after that.

Still, over the months your friendship had grown stronger. You had even gotten to know his siblings. And while you were friends with them as well, the level of intimacy you shared with Edmund, was one you could never reach with anyone else.

It was not surprising when the residents of Cair Paravel began to assume that the King of Narnia was courting a simple maid.

And though no one ever said it outright, everyone thought the same.

                                          ————————–

The Winter Ball was a grand affair.

Since the defeat of the White Witch Queen Susan had taken every step to ensure that the Winter Ball was the grandest of celebrations. Not only because it was Christmas but because she wanted to wipe away any negative memories the Narnians had when it came to winter.

As a half-dryad, partial to spring and summer, even you could not help enjoying the festivities.

But from afar.

You were keeping to the shadows, hiding in an alcove that overlooked the beach you and Edmund had walked along for hours at a time. Queen Lucy had gotten what she wanted. You attending the Ball. She'd actually dragged her brother into the conversation. And when he had asked if you were going to attend, you knew you were trapped.

He had looked so hopeful that all you could do was say yes.

You never could say no to him. A weakness he exploited sometimes when it came to getting away from Cair Paravel, during work hours, and just wandering around in the Woods or walking along the beach. Your Supervisor knew of your getaways, but since you had always been an efficient worker, she never complained.

At the moment, you were dressed in the same dress Lucy had given you, with your hair in an elegant braid, adorned with flowers you had picked from garden earlier that day.

You wore a necklace with the gown, a piece of jewelry that had been gifted to you by a certain King. Your fingers lifted to the gorgeous piece, lightly tracing the outline of the necklace, a small smile pulling at your lips as your mind wandered to the one who had gifted it to you.

"Lady Y/n?"

Speaking of which.

You spun on your heel, having forgotten that there was a side entrance to the alcove you were hiding in.

"King Edmund." You responded with a quick curtsy. You smiled at him as you straightened up. Silence followed, one where your smile slowly faltered, and your cheeks to grow red under his unwavering gaze. You adjusted the skirts of your dress nervously as you cleared your throat.

"Queen Lucy was gracious enough to lend me the dress, though I insist in returning it once I am done attending the Ball." You said as a way to start the conversation.

It was then, when your eyes dropped to his chest, that you suddenly realized why the color of your dress had been so familiar.

Every Monarch had their color. For King Peter, it was gold and blue. For Queen Susan it was two different shades of blue. For Queen Lucy it was red and blue. And for King Edmund, it was silver and blue.

The exact shade of the dress you currently wore.

If it didn't mean treason, you would surely kill Queen Lucy for playing such a hand.

"You look beautiful." His words prompted you to meet his gaze, which still hadn't left your face. Skin flushing, you reached up to push a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Th-thank you. You look good too. Did your sister threaten you into coming in proper attire?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "She said she would lock me out of the library if I wasn't dressed right." You couldn't help but giggle at his expression.

"May I ask, why you're not out there, dancing?" He asked, moving to stand next to you so that the both of you could look out at the various dancing pairs. You shrugged. "I prefer the company of a select few." He nudged you playfully with his elbow. "I hope I'm included in that list."

You hummed in contemplation. "I believe you are number three. After your sisters." You responded, to which he pressed a hand over his heart. "Your words wound my My Lady. How shall I ever survive your cruel intentions."

This was what you loved liked about Edmund. He was always ready with a joke of some sort. It was rather refreshing, to have a friend who made one laugh.

A comfortable silence settled between the both of you, as you stood there and just watched everyone dance and enjoy themselves.

"Do you remember that day when I found out you were a King?" You suddenly spoke up, your gaze just as soft as your voice as the memory of that day rose to the front of your mind.

Edmund chuckled beside you. "Oh yes, I remember. I was talking to Peter about something, and you saw me." You nodded. "And I came over and ask how close of a friendship you shared with him because you punched him on the shoulder."

Turning your head slightly, you looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. "You decided to have some fun, saying you were quite close. And when I asked how close, you said he was your brother."

Edmund couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing, while you blushed furiously at the remembrance of your embarrassment in that moment. "Your expression was hilarious." He said once he paused for breath. "And then you said but that would make me King. Though I was rather offended you knew that Peter was King."

You scowled at his grinning face. "Thats because I had seen him give a speech in public before. It is hardly my fault that you barely leave your library or your office to go out and meet people."

He made a face. "Now why would I want to do that?" You rolled your eyes at him. "One would think as King, you would prefer to at least show yourself in public sometimes." You reprimanded, prompting Edmund to point a finger at you. "Did Susan tell you to say that? She's always going on and on about how I should spend some time with people so that I don't forget how to talk."

A teasing smile pulled at your lips as you flicked his finger away with your own. "Well she's not wrong. I love reading books just as much as you do, but at least I go out and talk to people."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "I talk plenty. At least with the people who matter." As he said that, his gaze flicked towards you and you smiled, reaching out to loosely loop your arm through his. "I am truly honored to be one of those people."

He smiled, his fingers intertwining with the hand that wrapped around his arm.

"You have no idea how much."

So saying, he brought up the hand he held, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. And since you'd forgone gloves for the night, you could feel the press of his warm lips against your skin.

Your heart beat rapidly against your chest, and you were sure your cheeks were a permanent shade of pink with how much you were blushing.

Suddenly his eyes lit up, as if he had just remembered something.

And he had.

"I almost forgot! I went down to the beach a few days ago." So saying he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a rather pretty shell. "I found this while I was down there, thought you might like it."

With your free hand you took the shell, examining the pretty colors that nature had painted it with. It was truly beautiful. But that wasn't what you were focusing on.

He'd been at the beach for his own purpose, whatever it had been. But he had thought of you. You were on his mind when he saw the shell. You were who he remembered when he picked it up knowing you would like it.

How could he be so sweet and kind at the same time?

And how, oh how could you not fall in love with him if he were to keep showing you such sweet gestures?

The sight of the shell, and the aftereffects of the conversation you had just had with him, was what compelled you to do what you did next.

It was a simple maneuver really. One that required you to push yourself up on your toes, and tilt you head forward a little bit.

A simple series of movements.

And yet the outcome of it had Edmund's eyes widening as he felt the result of your gesture against his mouth. But it didn't stop there. His entire body stiffened for a brief moment, before he relaxed and tilted his head a little to better return the gesture. The hand that was not gripping yours, came up to rest the tips of his fingers under your chin.

Slowly you pulled back, your eyes opening so you could look at him. He was smiling. He was smiling at you so tenderly that you were sure your heart wouldn't be able to recover from the beauty of it.

Of him.

And his eyes. You actually had to look away because of how intense they were, as if he could see to the very inner most corner of your heart.

The fingers on your chin pressed lightly against your skin, coaxing you to turn your head back.

Edmund couldn't help it. He couldn't help himself and not look at you. He had to look at you.

You with your kind smile and gorgeous eyes. The way your hair would dance in the breeze and your whole face would light up when you talked about something you were passionate about.

Finally, after a few moments of simply looking at one another, he spoke. "You know there have been rumors going around. Rumors saying that I'm courting you."

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile. "I've heard about them, and I don't understand how people would think that." Even as you said it, you couldn't help but smile, knowing exactly why people would think that. He grinned as well, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

"Well how about, we add wood to that fire and play a little game by giving them a little hint every now and then?" He asked, his eyes alight with that spark he got whenever he was thinking of some clever plan that would outwit anyone involved.

Luckily for Edmund, you shared his love of deception and pranks, so you smiled. "I think I would enjoy that."

He laughed softly, before leaning down to press his lips to yours in a brief kiss.

"Though I want you to know, that whatever hint or gesture I may show you, they come from my heart and hold true." He whispered against your lips, prompting you to nod.

"As will mine."

Suffice to say, the next morning, when Edmund kissed you in the open courtyard where a lot of creatures had gathered to clean up after the Ball the night before, the entire castle buzzed with gossip and speculation.

Though one thing was for sure.

In Mrs Beaver's words, the both of you were truly meant to be.

[fairytsuk1]

sitting your pretty ass self on alexis’ cock while he’s on a call with someone who is live 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

teasing alex on a call ...

alex laughs boisterously across the hall and you smile automatically. even just knowing he was around made your heart stammer in your chest. it wasn't just that, though; you saw him before the stream, and he looked more than good. actually, he looked incredible.

he had donned his typical black and gray beanie that left black wispies flying out from under it. it's even better as his gold chain revealed a black t-shirt hanging low on his chest. was it getting hot?

"i'm gonna go live," he pecks your cheek, "be done soon!"

but that was hours ago! and the more you thought, the more you remembered how good it felt to run your nails across his scalp. to feel his hands pull you closer to his chest...

your feet were already taking you down the hall. before you knew it, your phone was abandoned on the kitchen counter. alex is calm when you slide into the room. his eyes lock onto yours for a split second before he's cursing back into the mic. then, "hey babe, what's up? i'm still live!"

he doesn't let his surprise show as you plop into his lap, "i know! been watching."

alex takes a moment to make a quick joke, but thankfully everyone else is too distracted with their chats to notice how his breath hitches. how he slams the "MUTE" button to snake his hands under the cotton of your tank top.

"babeee," he sighs as you scooch even closer, rolls your hips just a bit harder.

"shhh, i think someone's saying something to you, alex."

alex struggles to tear his eyes away from yours. you urge him with your hand to the mic and he throat bobs, "i-i'm here! i was just too busy playing the game!"

your hand palms him slowly and teasingly. his voice cracks slightly in the mic, and he's pushing his hips up into your hand. it's so sexy to feel him harden under your silken touch. the way he fills out his sweatpants is absolutely intoxicating, "fuck, go under please..."

he whispers into your ear with a demanding voice but you smirk.

"hush, just let me fuck you, yeah?"

the raw dominance in your voice sends a shiver down his spine. you listen, spit slicked hand wrapping around his thick cock. alex keens, fingers gripping the arm handle with a ferocious grip as he tries to keep himself under control, "fuck, okay, okay. please fuck me, shit...!"

"you're still live, and sounds like your friends are getting impatient, honey."

"th-they don't care, they'll think I left," and your hand twists around his leaking tip, "oh! oh my god."

"talk to them, baby."

"c-can't," he mumbles.

"talk to them. do your job," you suck a dark mark on his neck while pulling him out, "you can do it, baby."

his voice is shaky as he nods, eagerly watching a stream of spit dribble from your tongue to coat his dick. it feels so intimate the way you slowly stroke him with a wet click.

you know it's killing him. he throbs in your hand and his voice is more meek, more far-away, "sorry, i'm just a little--"

you struggle holding back your moan when you sink down onto him. your teeth sink into the juncture of his neck as he stretches your dripping pussy out. you've taken him so many times that's so easy, but you always feel the stretch of his girth when you take him for the first time.

"--a little tired!"

alex squeaks out and you can't help your quiet giggle when you plop yourself down in his lap. again, then again, and soon his desk chair is squeaking lewdly.

"fuck me, yes! feels so good. your pussy feels too good," he buries his face into your chest, clinging to you like a bear, "fuck, mami. you're so dirty, riding me while i'm live?"

" i already know you like it," you wheeze, hand ripping off his beanie to tug him by his hair into a lip-lock, "already know you love fucking me, fuckk! oh fuck, stretching me out so well."

it's so lewd how you can hear the boisterous laughs of his friends, the fighting and the jokes; all at the same time you fuck yourself silly on your boyfriend's cock and he practically drools over your tight, wet walls squeezing him.

"i'm gonna cum, oh shit! babe, w-wait," he tries to stop your desperate hips or clenched thighs but it's no use.

"wanna feel you fill me up, need it. needed you so bad, fuck, alexx!"

and you vaguely hear voices calling out to alex among your own. he's so close, balls tightening and mind hazy. he can barely breath as his lungs constrict.

"'m so close, baby. cum in me, need to feel you breed me," you wheeze, "please, alex!"

alex cums in hot white ropes. you feel him paint the inside of your walls and you nearly spasm from pleasure. it's so hot and your teeth tug his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper. your orgasm washes over you in a huge wave that leaves your every limb shaking. neither of you can even speak as the stream falls on dead ears.

it takes a moment to remember to take a deep inhale. your mixed releases spill down your thigh and leave messy droplets on his sweatpants. alex himself is no better, lips agape with eyes closed.

alex's eyes meet yours looking like swirls of honey. you know he's feeling vulnerable, feeling sensitive. your hand cards down his face and you leave soft pecks on his freckles.

"that was... baby, that was insane."

"i know, baby boy. you did so good for me. i fucking love fucking you."

alex giggles a shy laugh into your cleavage. another person calls out to alex, and finally he's regathered enough energy to sit up and unmute.

"yeah, i gotta go! yeah, yeah, i'm fine. i just," he pauses, "i just had to take care of something for a sec."

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

MIRROR

a/n: I had no idea if posting this was a good idea or not, but it's better to let it out than to leave it forgotten in the drafts. I hope you like it… I’ll leave this here, and I’ll retreat slowly…

jude bellingham x exgf!reader (trent alexander-arnold´s sister)

warnings: +18 content, p in v, protected sex, dom!Jude, dirty talk… kinda angsty, english is not my first language.

summary: Stuck at your brother's party, you struggle to get over Jude, your ex, who brings back old feelings every time you look at him. Despite your attempts to flirt with other guys, Trent and Jude always end up shooing them away, and your anger only grows. When Jude's gaze meets yours, the tension becomes electric. Before you know it, you both find yourself in the bathroom, where your chemistry ignites in a heated encounter that ignores all the rules you once swore you wouldn't break.

The music thumped through the walls of Trent’s house, vibrating through your chest as you hovered at the edge of the crowded living room. You hated these kinds of parties—too many people, too much noise—but it was Trent’s place, and everyone had shown up. Jude had shown up.

Of course he had.

It was one of your brother’s bests mates. He was laughing with a group of people just across the room, so close, yet worlds away.

You hated that seeing him still twisted your heart, hated that he looked so good, so unbothered, like you hadn’t been wrecked when he walked away from you months ago. He had told you that the distance was going to hurt you, but the one who ended up hurting you was him. You two hadn’t spoken since. Not properly, anyway. But you’d been here before—sharing space, always with Trent in between, always keeping it civil for the sake of everyone.

You tipped your glass back, willing the alcohol to dull the sharp edge of your emotions. Your eyes drifted toward the guy you’d been talking to earlier. Nothing serious. Just a distraction. He was cute, and more importantly, available. A brief smile played on your lips, and you moved to join him in the living room, leaving the bitter knot of emotion behind. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the game of flirtation, the feeling of reclaiming control.

But you felt it before you saw him. Jude, his presence like a gravitational pull. As soon as the guy got too close, a hand on your arm, you saw him. Jude, out of the corner of your eye—his jaw tight, gaze burning.

"Oi, mate," Jude said, his voice low but firm as he stepped in, placing himself between you and the guy you wanted to shag, blocking him with a casual but unmistakable tension in his posture. "I think you're done here."

Your heart skipped a beat, anger flaring hot. Before you could protest, Trent appeared, a protective shadow beside Jude. Not again, please. Of course, Trent. Always watching, always hovering. You loved him a lot, but right now, you hated his guts. Hated that they were both treating you like something fragile, like you couldn’t make your own choices.

The worst thing was, it was the third time that night.

The guy glanced at Trent, then Jude, clearly uncomfortable. He wasn´t even looking at you anymore. "I didn’t mean any harm, man—"

"Yeah, you did. That´s my little sister" Trent cut in, his voice cold. "You're leaving now."

With one last quick glance at you, the guy mumbled something; probably an apology, and slinked off into the crowd. You stood there, furious, fists clenched at your sides. "What the hell, Jude? Trent?"

Jude’s eyes met yours, the weight of everything unsaid passing between you both. "Y/N, come on, don´t do this," he said quietly, almost too soft to hear over the loud music.

"Do what?" you snapped, taking a step closer. Your chest was tight, your words sharp. "Move on? Because I can’t just stand around waiting for you to stop playing games. You left me, Jude. Remember?"

His gaze dropped, pain flickering behind his eyes, and probably embarrasment due to your brother being there, jjjbut before he could say anything, Trent stepped in. “He’s right, you don’t need a guy,” he said, his voice more gentle than you expected. “You don´t know anything about him. I don't even know where he came from.”

You let out a frustrated breath, your mind reeling from the double wall of protection. You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Jude stood there, silent, but you saw the tension in his shoulders, the conflict in his expression.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, pushing through the crowd, your skin burning with anger and unspoken feelings. The party roared on, oblivious to the storm that had just passed. Trent and Jude watched you go, and you didn’t have to look back to know they wouldn’t follow.

The rest of the party goes by relatively smoothly. Jude can feel you glaring at him the whole time, practically boring holes into his forehead with your flaming eyes. He winces when the song finishes and he watches you slide through the crowd, storming from the living room.

He shouldn't go to you. He knows he shouldn't. But he does anyway, standing up, avoiding Trent’s attention and hurrying after you. You see him coming so you pick up your pace, thumping up the stairs.

Jude follows faster, only a few steps behind you. You hesitate on the first landing, unsure which room will keep you safest from him.

Then you see the bathroom down the hall and make a break for it, rushing to get to safety with Jude hot on your heels driving you faster and faster.

You slip into the bathroom and go to slam the door shut, but a familiar hand grabs the wood and stops it. You let out an indignant squawk as he barges into the bathroom and shuts the door.

"Get out, Bellingham."

"No," He says firmly, staring down at you irritably. He can't help it, he has to explain himself.

"You know I'm right. That dude was not-

"Fuck off," you interrupt him, your voice raw with anger. "I was so calm talking to him until you both came over like a pair of lunatics."

Jude snaps, replying angrily, "Yes, because throwing yourself desperately at him is calmly talking. He was the third man in the night… "

"And yet, this was the third time that the two of you had no right to interfere. Especially you."

You’re so flippant, so nonchalant about the fact that you could've just been used or hurt by a random guy. Broken. Maybe, without your brother and his constant attention on you during the night, you could’ve committed a mistake. But none of that mattered now, your anger was bigger than your rational thoughts.

Jude clenches his fists, only growing angrier when you say flatly:

"Ben and I should be in my room right now. What a bunch of cockblockers...”

Was it really his name Ben? You couldn’t remember properly.

"I bet Trent would love to hear that from her little sister. Sometimes you forget that not everybody has good intentions.”

His heart sinks when he recognizes a ruthless glint in your eye, your lips quirking when you replie, "He seemed pretty nice. It was the third guy in this party that left scared. Shouldn’t you just give me a list of the ones that you and Trent consider appropriate for me?”

None. He wants to say.

Jude sees red, his hands flying to his hair and tugging in frustration. He turns his back on you, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I can’t stand to see it. You know that. You do it in front of my eyes.”

"You have no right to be hovering around me scaring the guys that approach me, Jude.”

That's it. What you’ve been waiting all night to happen. At a moment you thought that you weren’t going to see it, but finally, Jude explodes, whirling around and smacking his hand down on the porcelain sink.

This makes you yelp as he yells, "Yes I do! I do have a right. Because I miss you, dammit!"

You stared at him, your lips parted in obvious shock. Your lips. Jude feels his gaze drawn to them like a magnet.

And then you’re both moving, crashing together before either can stop it.

Jude let's out a groan at the contact, his hands grabbing at your hips. Finally. Your breathing hitches when he bites down on your lower lip harshly. He's still mad, still fucking furious with you. You can tell from the way he's kissing you, hot and so needy it makes your knees shake.

You moan when his tongue eagerly slips into your mouth, rediscovering and reclaiming. There's no fighting for dominance—Jude has it already. You surrender to his control, opening up for it greedily. You want this, you need this.

Your hands fly to his shirt tugging and pulling at it until he finally gets the message and pulls away long enough to shrug the shirt off over his head. You grow dizzy at the sight of his muscular torso, your tongue flicking out to wet your swollen lips. It was obvious he'd been training extra hard. What wasn't obvious was the hours Jude spent working out to avoid thinking of you.

He growls low in the back of his throat at the sight of your pupils blown wide. He pulls you back to him, returning his wanting lips to yours. Your hands shake as they slide up over his shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Jude smirks at the action, giving him plenty of time to slide his lips over his jaw and down to the hollow of your throat. He groans at the feel of you, the taste of your skin. You smell like lavender and the alcohol you´d been drinking. He wants to drown in it. Drown in you.

You gasp when his teeth tug at your skin. He bites and sucks and licks until there is a growing red mark on the side of your throat. Trent is going to kill you both. Your head lolls to the opposite side, weak to his sinful ministrations. Eager for more. Jude licks a stripe from your jaw to the skin under your ear. He pauses when something bumps his nose.

Earrings. The earrings. You still wore them. You still wore the ones that he gifted you.

His heart nearly explodes because maybe this meant it wasn't over, maybe he could undo the things that had been done. His hands fly back into action, untucking your blue t from your jeans and pulling back enough to tug it up over your head.

He lets out a curse when he realizes this whole time you hadn't been wearing a bra. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, waiting before doing anything. Maybe this is a mistake.

You must notice his hesitation, because your cool palms suddenly cup his face and bring his lips back to yours. It's your turn to bite his lip, your teeth playfully nipping at the soft swollen curve of his lower one. The kiss is still angry, hot, and so delicious it makes your toes curl.

No, this was definitely not a mistake.

Jude shakes his head when you try to drop to your knees. He knows what you think he wants. But you’re wrong.

"Turn around," He mumbles huskily, his erection painful in his jeans. He had to have you, he needed to have you.

"No," you scoff, trying to return your lips to his.

"I said turn around," he growls, not missing the way your thighs clench together and your eyes flash. You narrow your eyes but do as you’re told, yelping when Jude pins you front to the sink. Your eyes find yourself in the mirror and you’re taken aback by how needy you look, wanton and hungry. For him. You was always hungry for him.

Jude’s thoughts are disrupted when your ass arches into his cock, making him curse under his breath.

"Fuck, Y/N.”

You smile wickedly at him in the mirror, Jude growing cross at the action. He was in control. He needed to because you’d been slipping through his fingers like sand ever since he went to play to Madrid.

You see the change in him, his eyes darkening sinfully. You gasp and grip the sink tightly when he thrusts against you, your legs shaking from the spark of pleasure.

You were embarrassed, your cheeks turning red when you watch in the mirror as a moan flew from your lips. You try to turn around, but his hands keep you pinned there.

You moan again when you feel his fingers at your front, deftly unbuttoning your pants before slipping his hand inside.

Jude leans his forehead against your back, momentarily breathless from the feeling of your fingers dipping into your slick heat.

"Ju- Jude," you whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly thrusts one finger in and out of you. It's not enough, not when you knows his cock is just out of reach and can fill you the way you want—need to be.

His hand moves from you core, leaving you feeling empty and on fire with need.

Jude mutters huskily, "Open your eyes. I want you to watch. I want you to see what only I can do to you."

Goosebumps erupt across your skin at his words, your mouth running dry when your pants and panties join the pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes flicker open, because while you want to tell him to piss off, that he isn't in charge of you any more….you want to see it too.

“You still on the-?” He asks, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“Yes,” you interrupt him immediately.

His belt buckle clinks when he tosses it to the floor. You watch with wide open eyes as he shoves his jeans down just enough to pull his pulsing member out. You run your tongue along your lower lip, your eyes stuck on the spot of the mirror where you can see Jude languidly stroking himself. You want to do it. You go to turn, desperate to hold him in her hand, but Jude reaches up and firmly holds you in place, saying rudely, "Don't."

Your head falls foreword with a gasp when you feel the tip of him teasing your entrance, just barely sliding in before retreating. It was torture. You try desperately to arch back into him, groaning when Jude tuts and stills your hips with his hand.

"Look," He says firmly. You raise your head and stare at Jude in the mirror, your lustfilled gazes locked onto each other as he slowly thrusts into you. Jude swears at the feeling of being inside of you again, moans loudly when you clench around him.

His hand comes around to cup your throat, keeping your head exactly in front of the mirror as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in. Your knuckles turn white from your grip on the sink, unable to stop the uninhibited moan that tears from your throat. He was filling you so deliciously, so completely in this position. He's slow, but hard and rough in his movements. You cry out when he brushes against that explosive spot within you that has your back arching and your hands scrambling for something better to hold onto.

The contrast of his warm body against your back and the cold sink pressing into you front leaves you breathless.

"Please, Jude," you moan, your head slumping back to rest on his shoulder with your eyes closed. He connects your lips for a harsh, soul shattering kiss. He moans into your open mouth when you circle your hips back on his, trying to get more. The hand that was caressing your throat covers your own that you have pressed against the mirror, his fingers interlocking with yours as he complies with your wishes. He knows what you need.

He thrusts into you faster, harder, the hand not holding yours coming down to grab your hip. You can't make sense of the sounds coming from your own mouth because it's just so good. It's so good with Jude. Because it's the only time you willingly give someone control over your heart, your body.

That familiar warm sensation coils in your lower belly, growing bigger and more warm with each thrust.

"Jude, I-I..." You trail off with a groan, your hips bucking back into his wildly as you approach the peak of arousal, Jude growling huskily in your ear.

"Look, Y/N. Look in the mirror."

It takes all of your strength to open your eyes and lean your head forward, your gaze first finding where your and his hand are locked together, pressed up against the mirror.

Then you find yourself, again shocked by the arousal in your eyes and the poutyness of your swollen lips. You glance up at Jude in the reflection, nearly moaning at how sinful he looks. He commands the energy in the room, his jaw clenched tight as he too fights back his climax. You watch you both now, desperate for this to not end. It was too good.

When his fingers glide across your stomach and dip down to circle your clit your vision goes white, your mouth falling open as a voiceless cry tries to leave you. Jude swears, watching in the mirror as your eyes roll back and your throat bobs and you climax around him, your clenching walls finishing him off and making him groan loudly against your shoulder.

He slumps against you, his arm holding you up as your legs shake against his. He presses a few sloppy kisses to the skin of your back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to regain his breath.

That is when you realize, what have you done. How you have fallen again in this loop. Or how you’d let yourself be touched by the man that left you not so long ago shattered.

"Y/N," He whispers hoarsely, taking in your pink cheeks and cloudy gaze. Lust turns to fear as you quickly separate your hands and bodies, scrambling to pull on your clothes.

Jude feels fear tighten in his chest too, because you’re pulling away faster than he can reel you in.

"Y/N, wait-

The bathroom door slams shut as you flee, barely dressed before disappearing. Your entire body is hot as you can still feel his touch and shame washes over you. You run to one of the bedrooms, hoping Trent doesn’t find you. But most of all, hoping Jude will get out of your mind once and for all.

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Ace

Ace would pretty much find any excuse to have a sleepover with you at Ramshackle dorm. He envied how you were a single freshman with a huge, yet rickety, dorm all to yourself. Granted that you had Grim to keep company, you were still a singular human in a big building nonetheless. As the Prefect, you had the greatest benefit in not having to deal with a super strict Housewarden.

Having Ace come to your dorm with a collar around his neck was one thing. Having Ace freely come to your dorm with a full bag ready for some fun was a pleasant other. Other than his essentials, his overnight bag was loaded with a bunch of magic trick equipment, which included the required deck of cards. For the first hour, Ace pleasured his hosts with a bunch of tricks that he'd been working on back at Heartslabyul and between class breaks. Grim could never get over how one simple scarf can become tied to a multitude of them tied together with one scrunch of Ace’s fist.

Then, a few simple rounds of blackjack quickly turned into a game of how Ace was able to cheat his way into winning as the dealer each round. Seriously, with every single game that you had played with this guy, you had become more used to figuring out how Ace was able to do it, despite your inability to produce and conjure magic yourself. Ace had become more slightly annoyed at that, but at the same time he was more so impressed. 

After two and a half hours of fun gaming, Ace went to go take his shower. You knew by then that the heart mark that Ace always wore on his eye wasn't actually a real birthmark, but that didn't mean that you were getting more used to his bare face at night. Once his evening wash was done, he caught you in the middle of setting up his guest bed. Instead of asking to help you with that, he insisted upon himself to finish the job. As you straightened out his sheets, he patted on his own pillows. When Ace was done with that, he looked back at you, noticing that you were staring. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ace asked as if he had been transfigured into a lopsided rabbit.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to,” you replied. “It's just that I'm not used to you without your heart makeup.”

“Oh, you thought it was a birthmark?”

“I'm not too familiar with folks who are from the Rose Queendom.”

Ace scoffed. “The only people born with any birthmarks in the Rose Queendom are the people born to the Royal Family. Any common person born with a shaped birthmark means that something weird has happened.”

“When you say weird, you really mean…”

“Exactly.”

Ace opened his overnight bag, and he pulled out two tops. One was a white t-shirt, and he threw it on over his torso first. The other was a red hoodie with an image of a card soldier army marching on the front, which he donned over the t-shirt. Ace had explained to you that he got cold sleeping at night, so wearing layers always made him comfortable. You knew how Ace would tease you if you made any comments about the clothes that Crowley provided you, which was only the bare basics. You were grateful to get spare blankets as gifts from friends, but in the deep of winter, sadly, it wasn’t enough. You envied Grim for having fur to protect his little self.

“Are you going to be alright there?” Ace questioned.

“As I can be,” you said. “Why are you asking all of the sudden?”

“Part of me thinks that room gives you the heebie-jeebies.”

“I've had months to get over that.”

“Well you know me. If you ever need a big strong man…”

Chuckling, you playfully punch Ace in the arm.

However, he wasn’t all that wrong. With the lights out, Grim was snoring to the side as usually, and you were staring up at the ceiling, counting the tiny cracks. You had been twisting and turning, trying to ignore the breeze. Your fretting comes to an end when you get a whisper at your door.

“Hey, Prefect.”

You turned over, and there stood Ace, slightly hunched over. “What are you doing up?” you questioned.

Ace sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. I had a feeling you’d be up.”

“That’s so unlike you.”

He admitted that it wasn’t really fun to sleep in separate rooms. At Heartslabyul, he was used to having the company of Deuce and two other roommates. If he ever wanted to say something, he’d have three other sets of ears. In a spare guest room, Ace didn’t have anyone. Ever since gaining a friendship with you, Ace didn’t like being separated in the same building.

With that said, you opened your heart and allowed Ace to take the right side of your bed, which had always been empty. He graciously took your offer and immediately snuggled up against you. When you asked why he was being so hasty, he quickly replied that he was going to guard you from the cold. He thought you would appreciate it. Though you didn’t say it, little did he know…that you did.

[allmylovc]

mechanic ! matt teaches sweetheart ! reader a lesson

tw. fingering, p in v, mechanic ! matt being super sexy

Today was an ordinary day for you and matt. He was off to work and you were gonna stop by once or twice just to give him some company here and there.

You went to his shop with one thing in mind; see how long matt’s patience would last. One thing was for sure is that matt was not a patient man whatsoever.

But you already knew what you had to do. You were gonna stop by the shop wearing a short short short skirt, and a top that leaves zero room for imagination.

You also paired that with a cute little lacy thong, just in case.

You went down to the shop to go have lunch with him, walking in his office with the takeout bags in your hand “Hey.” you smiled

Matt turned around, his gaze automatically dropping down to your body and outfit “Woah.. that’s what you’re wearing today?” he questioned.

You placed the food down on the table and sat next to him “Yeah. It’s cute right?” giving him the most ‘innocent’ smile.

Making sure to sit in a way where your skirt rode up your thighs. Matt couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, he was practically drooling.

Every time you handed him something or got to close to him, you made sure your finger or arm brushed against him.

“Is there any water in here?” you asked, matt glanced up at you “Aham,” he hummed “it’s up there.” he said gesturing over to the cabinet by the window.

You stood up and walked over, opening the cabinet, reaching over to grab the water.

“Matt,” you let out a defeated sigh “could you get it for me?” he stood up from his spot and walked over behind you, reaching over for the water.

When he stood behind you, you made sure to move your hips against his crotch.

His reaction was immediate, he put his hands on your hips and scoffed “you think you’re so funny, huh?” he whispered in your ear “teasing me like this? wearing this short ass skirt.” he tugged down on the skirt, his hand moving and gripping your ass.

“What do you mean?” you said—trying to act innocent as if you didn’t know the affect you were having on him.

He let out an annoyed scoff, but didn’t say anything else. Instead he spun you around to face him and cupped your jaw, his face mere inches away from yours.

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart.” his hot breath heavy against your cheek “You wanna keep teasing me, huh?” he moved you around and pinned you against the desk

His hands reaching down and pushing your skirt up, his hand moving inside your panties.

“You’re soaked.” he laughed bitterly as he plunged two fingers inside you, making you gasp and arch your back. His fingers continuing their slow deliberate thrusts inside your aching core.

Your moans echoing through the room. "This is what you wanted, huh." he whispered in your ear.

Before you could respond he removed his fingers, turning you around—bending you over against the desk. He moved your hair off your back and leaned in "I´m gonna teach you how to not provoke me, and act like the good little sweetheart you are." he whispered, his hand reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans.

His erection press against your entrance, drawing out a soft gasp from you "Beg." he demanded, his fingers tangling with you hair, and pulling you up towards him.

"Matt.. please." your voice barely above a whisper "Need you real bad."

Withou warning he pushed his cock inside of you, groaning in your ear as he began setting a fast and rough pace. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping filled the room, echoing against the walls.

He turned your head over and crashed his lips in yours, his tongue invading your mouth; tasting and exploring every inch.

"You like this don´t you? me fucking you like this." he said against your lips. His fingers tugging your hair, demanding a response "Yes. I love when you fuck me like this." you said as you both moaned in eachothers mouths.

Your legs began shaking, you felt your stomanch twist in knots—the euphoric feeling taking over.

“matt.” you moaned, whimpered his name repeatedly while you felt your organsm reach—cumming all over his cock.

He groaned in your ear as your walls squeezed him so deliciously. He knew better than to cum inside you, he slid out of you with a groan, his fist halting around his cock as his cum spilled all over.

"God you´re amazing." he mumbled, as he rested his cheek against your head. Your breaths coming out in hot pants.

Lesson learned.

©ALLMYLOVC all rights reserved.

⊹ authors note  — here’s an early new years present

tags: @marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @zebonos @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous

[likethe-month]

The Time Between Us

-Historical Yandere x Reader-

Yandere x Accidental Time Traveler Reader

This was so fun to write, and I have more for this particular story so I will probably post more soon.

Reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Yandere/possessive behavior, outdated ideas about gender, mentions of mental health, outdated ideas about mental health,

-

You are a college student writing a history paper about big cities in America’s Gilded Age when the dusty old PC belonging to the school sends you back to 1881.

You find yourself in the same building and room, but 143 years into the past. A man walks in and is utterly shocked to see you sprawled out on the ground in your confused state.

His name is James Harrington, and he is an architect who visits the school archives room to do his work. He is of average height with dark brown hair with a matching mustache and brown eyes that seem to linger on your bare legs for extended periods of time.

He informs you that ladies usually wear a skirt, and you start to think this man has never seen a bare set of women’s legs.

Your comfortable shorts and T-shirt aren’t exactly considered “lady-like” in this day and age.

It takes a lot of convincing to convince James you’re telling the truth, and he finally believes you when you show him your smartphone.

He is absolutely buzzing with questions, and you attempt to answer as many as you can before you figure it’s time to try and find a way back to your time.

Holding the paper in front of your face, you retrace your steps back to where you were sitting when you were transported here and closed your eyes.

Back in front of the school PC, you breathed a sigh of relief. Today’s events called for a night in, so you headed back to your dorm room.

Against the more logical part of your brain telling you to stay away from the computer lab, you make the decision to return.

You still have work to do, after all!

Over the course of the week, you go back to 1881, and James is always in the room, anticipating your arrival. You both decide it would be safe for you to stay in the room and only talk to James until he can get you some proper attire.

When he does, you sneak into a restroom when James assures you no one else is around, and you change into an outfit consisting of a high-necked blouse and skirt.

James feels proud, and he tries unsuccessfully to hide the light dusting of red on his cheeks. He informs you that you look like a “proper lady.” A part of him misses the strange, unfamiliar clothing and hairstyle you don, however, and he tends to mistake your modern ways for eccentricity.

James will absolutely romanticize the differences between the two of you, viewing your confusion as innocence, and his image of you makes his stomach twist in a way he's never felt before.

Then, he lets you know that his employer is hosting a dinner for his employees. He invites you as his date, and you eagerly accept, not willing to turn down the opportunity to see a lavishly decorated house belonging a Gilded Age businessman.

On the carriage ride there, he instructed you over exactly what to say and how to behave. Having seen your fair share of historical dramas, you were only half-listening, your eyes taking in every detail of the carriage.

The dinner goes well, and you even impress your hosts with your knowledge and mannerisms.

James' boss, Mr. Whitney, pulls him aside after dinner while everyone in the parlor room is deep in their own conversations.

“She’s a unique woman, indeed, Mr. Harrington. You’d be wise to keep a girl like that in your future prospects.”

Those words seemed to change something in James. Suddenly, he looked at you in a completely different way. Initially, he was planning on trying to persuade you to stay with him in 1881. He now knew that a real man, a successful businessman like Mr. Whitney, would take away your ability to choose. James would have to keep you here.

When you finish your drink, he asks you to join him in the ballroom where the other guests are dancing, and you do so, jumping a bit when he wraps a hand around your waist without hesitation.

He whispers lowly into your ear about how glad he is that you were “sent to him” as the two of you dance.

You grimace to yourself at his words and decide then and there that it may be a good idea to stay in 2024.

When you return for the final time, you plan on taking a walk through the city with your period-appropriate clothes to take everything in one last time.

You go back to 1881 and enjoy the sights while your final moments in the past last. You return to the archives room to be met with a sight that makes your stomach drop down to your feet.

James is holding the building plan, observing it with cold, observant eyes. You’re not sure what to do here. He’s holding your only way back home in his hands, eyeing it in a very strange way…

“Hello, James,” you say carefully. “Have you had a chance to enjoy the sunshine today?”

He turns to you briefly to signal that he’s listening. “You do understand why I have to do this, don’t you?”

You freeze, feeling faint. “Do what?” you say, trying to not let your desperation show. “James, what are you doing?”

Without another word, he rips the paper in two, then into four, then six, eight, countless pieces.

It takes everything you have not to fall onto your knees. You were trapped. You were trapped in 1881.

He looks at you, but before a taunt can escape his lips, you lunge at him, a scream ripping from your throat. Hands suddenly apprehend your attack, and your held firmly in place by two policemen who seemed to come out of nowhere.

“It really is so unfortunate,” James says, sounding almost bored. “She’s gone completely mad. I’m not sure what warranted this sudden change in behavior. I’m glad I was able to contact the authorities before she hurt herself.”

“These cases of women gone into hysterics are common. She’ll receive the proper care at Somervault Mental Asylum,” one of the men says, grunting as you thrash and shriek.

“I’ll visit you soon, dearest. For now, just make sure to get better,” James says, grinning wolfishly at you once the social workers weren’t looking.

You’re hauled off to the asylum, and for just a second, you believe you really would fall into insanity.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price prepares for his first date with Nik. 141 rib him.

CW: none.

Price stared into the mirror above his sink and wondered when the fuck all those lines on his face had arrived. Last time he’d looked, he could have sworn there were fewer, and there had been no grey either, but now he saw traces of his old man in the reflection and that made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

In all fairness, he didn’t really have much reason to look–really look–at his own face. Even when he was smearing camo around his eyes and down his cheeks, he was only looking for areas of shine that might draw an enemy’s eye. He never really considered why else someone might be lookin’.

Why Nik might be lookin’.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed as he began gathering up his shaving bowl and the badger-fur brush he only got out on special occasions; medal ceremonies, weddings, funerals and now, apparently, bloody dates. Why the fuck he had even agreed to it in the first place he had no idea, but Nik was surprisingly romantic given what Price knew about the rest of his life, and it was difficult to say no when he turned on those eyes. The word ‘no’ felt like booting a Labrador in the face.

Price stashed his shaving kit away and turned back to the mirror to check the rest. He had been pretty sure the shirt he had scrounged from the bottom of his paltry wardrobe hadn’t seen the light of day since the early noughties, and that had been confirmed when he’d pulled it around his shoulders and the buttons had gaped over his chest. Twenty years ago he’d been a lot leaner, but two decades of focused gym sessions, hard graft and being battered in the field had left him with a lot more heft. He’d pulled on a white t-shirt underneath and left it open, hoping he didn't look too much like someone's dad trying to look ten years younger.

Hair waxed into place, beard conditioned, aftershave and cologne–but not enough to register as chemical warfare–and he was as good as he was gonna get. He had never been asked on a date, only ever done the asking, and even then the sum total of his dating efforts as a young man had ended in disaster. Cold fish and chips on the riverfront and getting your leg over in the nearby park, only to fumble that too, wasn’t exactly peak romance, even at fifteen years old, and somehow he didn't think Nik had anything similar in mind.

Fifteen years old. That had been--

Oh, fuck. He was not equipped for this in the slightest.

Price’s phone beeped and a glance at the message confirmed Nik had arrived on base to pick him up. Bang on time too. Price took one final look in the mirror, grimaced, shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck it. It would have to do. Nik had seen him looking like the arse end of a donkey, so this… jitter in Price’s chest felt bloody stupid.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he murmured to himself as he snatched his wallet and keys from his bed and shut the door behind him. Unfortunately for Price, the rest of 141 were eagerly awaiting his appearance in the rec room and all looked up when he closed the door. He immediately regretted not exiting through the open window in his room.

“Well, well, cap, don’ ye brush up nice. G’ies a twirl,” Soap said, leaning forward with a wide grin that informed Price he was about to endure a good five to ten minutes of focused ribbing.

“Watch it, MacTavish,” Price replied, but without heat. He felt like a prize twat and this was Soap’s roundabout way of helping.

“Och, c’mon noow,” Soap spread his hands and turned to Garrick for support, “Gaz, back me up…”

Garrick looked up from his phone and tilted his head to the side, clearly evaluating just how much he wanted to chance Price putting him on the worst details for the next week. Apparently, he was feeling pretty fucking lucky that evening. “Pretty sure my dad owns that shirt, Tav. Very… uh, early noughties chic. What d’ya think, Ghost?”

Price could count on Simon to fight his corner against these two reprobates. Or so he thought. Simon leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and examined Price for a beat before choosing violence. “Pretty sure I saw it last about ten years ago,” Simon said, and then shook his head. “Happy to drop a pony on a new striker xt gen 2 so you can have the ranger green as well as the steel grey, but couldn’t cough up a few quid on a new shirt, sir.”

“You’re all bastards, and I you’ll be shovelling the shit next week once I get back to my desk,” Price growled.

A round of groans followed, and Soap rolled up to his feet. “C’mon, sir, we’re just jossin’. As my ol’ nan used tae say: a pritty face suits the dish-cloot.”

“Dish cloth chic,” Gaz said, grinning.

“Ah mean he looks bonnie, right? ‘Side, we need to cut the ol’ man some slack. When was th’ last time ye got tae let yer hair doon, sir?”

“Not long enough,” Price said, pinching the bridge of his nose and planning to beast the trooper delaying Nik at the checkpoint.

“I reckon the last time was when Usher was in the charts. What was the song? Ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, shit, what was it called?”

Price decided that Garrick would be organising a mock dawn raid for the freshest batch of recruits. He would make sure the weather forecast was grim.

“Wait, wait, lemme get it up on Spotify. We c'n get cap in the mood tae drop tha’ thang. Reckon Nik’s an animal on the dancefloor, aye? Ha! Found it. ‘Yeah’ by Usher.”

Soap would be joining Garrick. Full weighted kit.

Price watched as the two sergeants bounced around enthusiastically to a song from 2004 that was, by Price’s estimations, only a year older than the shirt he was currently wearing. Fucking disaster. He looked at Simon, who was watching Johnny with that far away look he always did when he thought no one else would notice.

“You have started the party without me, I see,” said a familiar voice at the door. Price looked over and nearly choked on his own tongue. Nik looked fucking good. White button down open at the collar, black slacks, polished shoes, with his hair freshly cut. Simple, but classy. Price tugged at his sleeve and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the heat he felt under his skin hadn't translated into a flush.

Nik appraised Price with those same soft eyes that had implored him from the cockpit of his damn helicopter for a date. Price cleared his throat. “You scrub up good, Nik.”

“I could say the same. But you are always the prettiest thing in any room to me, captain.”

Price’s face burned to the very tips of his ears.

“Ah, Nik! Watcha mate, how're you doin’?” Garrick bounded over and threw his arm around Nik’s shoulders for a half hug.

“Ye better have him home by ten!” Soap called from where he stayed slouched on the sofa.

“Of course, sergeant.”

“Nik, let's go, and you lot, get an early night. Pay back's a bitch.”

Nik smiled and stepped aside with what was definitely a bloody half bow to let Price out of the rec room first to a chorus of groans and entreaties for mercy from the two sergeants. Price and Nik emerged into the night air and had almost reached the car before Nik took Price's hand and drew him to a stop. “You are nervous.”

Price cleared his throat, sniffed, and did his best to come off as nonchalant. “Nah, I'm grand, just realised I’ve not got the clobber for this kind of thing, or the, uh… expertise. I'm worried you'll be disappointed.”

Nik looked at him blankly.

“Ah, sorry, my… clothes. It's been a long time since–”

Nik took his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had drifted to the ground. The kiss he placed on Price’s lips was tender, fleeting compared to their first shared under the downdraft of spinning helicopter blades, but it made Price's heart stutter just the same.

“You look good…” Nik released his chin to push both hands into Price’s hair, mussing it out of its careful arrangement. Next, he reached around the back of Price’s belt and tugged his t-shirt free. “Hm, now better.” Price swallowed hard, trying not to be too obvious about inhaling Nik’s scent as he pressed in close.

“Scruffy more like.” Price was still getting over the feeling of Nik’s fingers in his hair, brushing the skin on his back. Nerves had been replaced by the soft thrum of something warm in his chest.

“Nyet. English country boy with rough edges and blue eyes. You are honest, John Price. And a good man. It is what I have always loved most.” Nik opened the car door as Price gawped at him with wide eyes. When his senses had returned, Price realised Nik had rented a nondescript BMW for his stay, with leather interior and a fully digital media system. Plush. “After you.”

“Where’re we goin’?” Price asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Is surprise.”

“Bloody hell, and here I was thinkin' we’d go out for a movie and a pint.”

Nik grinned, tapping the beemer into ‘Drive’. “I will have the captain back before he turns into pumpkin, or the lieutenant mounts a rescue mission.”

Price chuckled as Nik pulled away into the night. Thankfully, Usher didn't feature in the evening‘s itinerary.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Breathe It In

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl takes you out on his bike for the first time.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

“Y’ever rode one before?” Daryl asked. 

You shook your head, attention running over the hot, glinting chrome and black metal. Every inch of the motorcycle was covered in dust but you knew it was an impressive piece of machinery, especially in Daryl’s eyes. And it was big. Longer and taller than you ever really noticed, now that you were the one about to climb on top of it. 

“No,” you said to Daryl. “Never even seen one up close before you got this.” 

“Ya don’ haf’ta come with me. Once we git another car, we can-“

“No, it’s fine. I’ve done scarier, right?” you said, thinking just of the past week and all you’d faced. 

He gave a curt nod. Then he swung his leg over the motorcycle, the toe of his big boot finding the kickstarter immediately. His jeans hugged his body as he hiked his knee up unnaturally high before putting all his weight on the lever, slamming his leg down and starting the bike on the first try. He twisted one of the handles as the engine revved to life as he settled in the seat. 

He looked at you, gaze cutting over his bare arm, thick with muscle. “I’ll hold it steady. Foot rests are there,” he said, pointing low on the bike to the small pegs you would use. “That’s the engine-“

“That’s the engine? The whole thing is just… right there?” 

“Where else would it be?”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t know. Enclosed somewhere maybe.”

He huffed a laugh. It made his hair fall in his face, but you could see his blue eyes studying you as he continued his explanation. 

“The exhaust pipes are down there too- careful a’ those. They get hot.” 

“Okay, so butt goes there,” you said pointing, “feet go there and don’t touch anything else.”

“‘Cept me.”

You straightened, shooting your attention back to him. “Hm?”

“Gotta hold onta somethin’. Come on, let’s go.”

You wondered if you had flushed as red as he did at his words. He was looking at his fingers wrapped around the handlebars, knuckles turning white, but you saw the pink wave crawling up his neck from his vest and landing around his ears. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” you said, sidling up to the bike. You tried to sound teasing, but you just sounded nervous. And it wasn’t just the heavy machinery making adrenaline rush through you.

He held his hand out flat for you to grab and support yourself as you flung your leg over the side of the bike. The moment your bottom landed on the back of the seat, you felt Daryl’s wide hand around your calf, moving one of your feet into place on the pegs. It was only then you realized there were only two foot pedestals for four feet. You’d have to share. 

Once he’d moved you into place, he tapped your knee, signaling you to stay put. A cold rush of air kissed the spot his hand had just kept warm. 

Your legs pressed against the back of his body as you sat behind him, your feet on the outside of the pegs, while his thick boots stuck to the inside. Nearest to the hot exhaust pipes, you noticed. He was keeping you away from them. 

“Good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

The motorcycle growled loudly at the will of his hand. Just a twist of his wrist and the bike was primed to speed off. 

He turned his head, not quite looking at you, though even then you could see his smirk. “Better hold on,” he said. 

You took the back of his jacket in your hands, balling up the leather around his hips into your fingers. “Kay,” you said, bracing yourself a bit. 

His foot rocked and his fingers squeezed, releasing the clutch and picking the gear. He twisted the handlebars, revving the engine and making the bike shake under you. To you, it was just a lot of noise and practically unnoticeable movement. To someone with motorcycling experience, it was a warning of oncoming power and swiftness. But you had no idea.

Without warning, the bike jolted forward and sped off so quickly it almost left you alone in the dirt, your grip slipping from Daryl’s jacket. 

Before you could fall off though, you hugged close to Daryl, palms open and sprawled over his chest and belly in panic. After the initial shock, however, the bike was a smooth ride as it kicked up dry Georgia dust behind its tires. That’s when you realized Daryl’s shaking and trembling wasn’t from the rattling of the bike, but from his chuckles. 

You heard his laugh even over the buzzing bike and rushing wind. It was a rare sound. Low, but free, like the rumble of an engine on a long, twisting summer road. In half mock, half true indignation, you lowered your hands to rest around his waist, meeting in the middle around his belt. Leaning up to his ear, you called to him. 

“You’re a real dick sometimes, Dixon!”

“Told’ya ta hold on,” he answered, giving your clasped hands a pat. 

“No kidding.”

He shook again. Though this time you couldn’t hear the soft chuckles that emanated from him, you knew they were there. You felt it. Just like you felt the affection radiating from him as he twisted his fingers in yours until they were interlinked. 

Before the outbreak, you never would have ridden a motorcycle. They were too dangerous. In fact, the thought of even looking at a contraption like this one, something Daryl had practically made with his own hands, without a safety helmet would never have crossed your mind. 

These days, things were different. Every day was a threat. But this, being with Daryl and sharing his pride and joy felt like the safest thing you could ever do. He was holding your hand and your arms circled him tight as you rode safely past anything questionable. 

You laid your head on the back of his shoulder and breathed it in- the freedom, the safety, the gas smell on his jacket and the smoke in his hair and you closed your eyes. And you felt his hand squeeze yours as if he was doing the exact same.

[lila-lou]

✨Obsessed - Pt. 5✨

Summary: After weeks of searching, you finally found Dean. However, he was no longer the man you had been in love with- but more importantly, no longer the man who never returned your love. Because now, in his twisted state, he was somehow obsessed with you.

Pairing: Dean x PregnantReader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, fluff, Pregnancy

Word Count: 5586

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

That’s when you came out of the bedroom, dressed again in a fresh, cozy matching set. The smell of food had woken you, and you rubbed your eyes as you walked into the living room, slightly confused to see Sam and Dean deep in conversation. Sam looked up and smiled at you, breaking the tension.

“Hey, Y/N”, Sam greeted warmly. “I brought food and a ton of vitamins”, He shook out the bag from the pharmacy, showing off the variety of supplements he had picked up for you.

You smiled, feeling a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. “Thanks, Sam. That’s really thoughtful of you”.

Dean watched you closely, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. He had just made a big confession to Sam, and now he needed to show you that he meant every word.

“I figured you might be hungry, and you could use the extra nutrients”, Sam said, gesturing to the vitamins.

You chuckled softly, moving to sit at the table. “You’re right, I’m starving. Thanks, Sam”.

As you began to eat, you felt Dean’s gaze on you. It was persistent, almost burning with unspoken words. After a while, Sam excused himself to the bathroom, leaving you and Dean alone at the table. You turned towards him, your frustration evident.

“What?”, you asked, slightly annoyed, putting down your fork. “Why do you keep staring at me?”.

Dean looked taken aback, fumbling for words. “I think we should—”.

“Please, Dean, don’t”, you cut him off, your voice pleading. “We don’t need to talk. I know what you’re going to say. It’s been a mistake, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, blah blah. I’m not hurt, Dean. I know where we stand. We’re trying to accept each other back into our lives for the baby, but we can’t be together. I know that”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “I just… I was horny, okay? I’m seven months pregnant and I’ve been horny for days. So… I wanted to have sex. It’s that simple. I won´t fall in love with you again, okay? Don worry”.

Dean looked at you, a mixture of surprise and guilt in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, unsure of what to say. Then his brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you used me? For… my dick?”, he asked, his tone a mix of incredulity and bemusement.

You sighed, feeling your frustration rise again. “Dean, I just needed release. I didn’t mean to complicate things or make you feel used. It was just… what I needed at the moment”. You lied, of course you lied.

Dean’s expression softened slightly, but the confusion remained. “I just want to understand, Y/N. You mean it didn’t mean anything to you?”.

You shook your head, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that it didn’t mean anything. It’s just that I know we can’t be together. We have to be realistic about this. We need to focus on the baby and figure out how to co-parent without me getting my emotions tangled up”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he looked down at the table. “Huh”, he said quietly. Then, in a softer, almost bitter tone, he mumbled, “So this is how women feel all the time, huh? Guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine".

Dean had always been the one in control, the one who could separate his emotions from his actions. But now, it was different. He had finally started to understand his feelings for you, but it seemed like he was too late. You had moved on, or at least convinced yourself that you had.

Dean forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I guess I’ve learned my lesson”, he said, attempting to joke. “Who knew I’d be the one getting used for a change?”.

You managed a small smile in return, though your heart ached. Of course, you weren’t over Dean. You probably never would be. But hearing him talk about how it was a mistake or anything like that was something you just couldn’t handle right now.

“Yeah, guess the tables have turned”, you replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

Dean tried to keep the conversation going, asking you about the baby, your plans, and how you were feeling. It was clear he was making an effort to be involved, to show you that he cared.

You appreciated his efforts, even if it was hard to fully trust his intentions just yet. The fact that he was trying, though, meant a lot.

When Sam returned from the bathroom, he sensed the shift in the atmosphere. He sat down, joining in on the conversation and helping to keep things light and comfortable. For the first time in a long while, it felt like you were all moving towards some semblance of normalcy.

“So, how’s the food?”, Sam asked, looking between the two of you with a knowing smile.

“It’s good, thanks”, you replied, grateful for the distraction. “Exactly what I needed”.

Dean took another bite of his food, then looked up at you with a curious expression. “So, do you know the gender already?”, he asked, his tone casual but clearly interested.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “No, I wanted to keep it a secret. I thought it would be nice to have a surprise”.

Dean’s face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered, a playful glint in his eye. “Aw, come on! You don’t want to know if it’s a mini-Dean or mini-you? I’m dying to find out”.

You laughed softly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “I thought about finding out, but then I decided against it. It’s one of the few surprises in life that’s actually good”.

Dean pretended to pout, but there was genuine amusement in his eyes. “You’re killing me here. How am I supposed to prepare if I don’t know what color to paint the nursery?”.

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide your amusement. “Nursery? Dean, we haven’t even figured out the basics yet”.

Dean grinned, pushing past the sting of your rejection with his usual charm. “Well, how about you just come home again, and we can figure everything out together?”, he teased.

You raised both eyebrows at his audacity, a mix of amusement and incredulity crossing your face. “You’re really something, you know that?”, you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the complicated feelings swirling inside you.

Dean shrugged, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’d make things a lot easier. Plus, I can help with midnight cravings and nursery painting. Think of it as a team effort”.

Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Dean, maybe ease up a bit. It’s a lot to take in”.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m just throwing ideas out there”.

Dean’s expression turned more serious as he looked at you, the playful grin fading slightly. “But seriously, Y/N, I really do want you back in the bunker. I want to know that you and the baby are safe”.

You felt a pang of emotion at his words, recognizing the sincerity behind them. Despite everything, Dean’s concern for you was genuine. “Dean, I appreciate that. I really do. But coming back isn’t just a simple decision. There’s a lot we need to work through first”.

Dean nodded, understanding the weight of your words. “I know, and I’m willing to put in the work. I just want to be a part of your life, and the baby’s life. We can figure out the rest as we go”.

Sam chimed in, trying to ease the tension. “Look, we don’t have to decide everything right now. Let’s just take it one step at a time. You’re welcome to stay with us, or we can help you here. Whatever makes you feel comfortable”.

You sighed, feeling the weight of their concern and the decisions you had to make. “Thanks, Sam. Just let me sleep on it for one night, okay? I need some time to think”.

Dean bit his lip, his eyes still fixed on you, filled with a mixture of hope and anxiety. Sam, sensing the tension build again, smiled softly. “Well, I never thought I would actually become an uncle to a nephew I actually know”, he said, glancing at Dean. “I mean, considering your countless one-night stands…”.

Dean chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, I guess this one’s a bit different, huh?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, the brothers’ banter bringing a sense of normalcy back to the conversation. “You both are something else".

Sam grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, we try”.

Over the next few days, Dean’s persistence and genuine concern slowly wore down your reservations. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn’t deny the benefits of having him and Sam close, especially with the baby on the way. Before long, you found yourself packing your things and returning to the bunker.

The transition wasn’t as difficult as you feared. Dean and Sam went out of their way to make you feel comfortable and at home. It wasn’t perfect, but a routine began to form, one that made you feel more secure and supported.

A week had passed since your return, and you were starting to see how things could work out. Dean was involved and attentive, and his excitement about the baby was palpable. Today, you had a doctor’s appointment at your new office, and you decided to ask Dean if he wanted to join you.

“Dean”, you called, finding him in the kitchen. “I have a doctor’s appointment today. Do you want to come with me?”.

Dean looked up from his coffee, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Absolutely, I’d love to”, he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

A few hours later, the two of you were sitting in the waiting room. Dean fidgeted slightly, his eagerness and nervousness evident. “I’ve never been to one of these before”, he admitted, trying to play it cool.

You smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his. “It’s just a check-up. They’ll make sure everything’s going well with the baby and me”.

When the nurse called your name, Dean stood up quickly, almost knocking over his chair in his haste. You chuckled softly, leading the way into the examination room. The doctor greeted you both warmly and began the routine checks, asking questions about your health and how you’d been feeling.

Dean watched intently, his eyes never leaving the ultrasound screen. When the image of your baby appeared, his breath caught in his throat. The doctor pointed out the baby’s heartbeat, the tiny movements, and explained everything in detail.

“Wow”, Dean whispered, his voice filled with awe. “That’s our baby”.

You nodded. “Yeah, that’s our baby”.

The doctor smiled at Dean´s reaction, then turned to you both. “Everything looks great. The baby is healthy and growing well. Do you want to know the gender?”.

Dean’s smile faltered slightly, remembering that you had wanted to keep the gender a secret. He looked at you, his eyes questioning. You met his gaze and saw the mix of excitement and hesitation in his eyes.

With a small smile, you nodded. “Yes, we’d like to know”.

Dean’s face lit up with joy and surprise. He squeezed your hand, his excitement bubbling over. The doctor turned the screen slightly so you both could see more clearly.

The doctor chuckled, pointing at the screen. “Well, that’s certainly no leg”, she said with a smile, indicating a small but unmistakable detail.

Dean’s eyes widened, his face lighting up with pure joy. “A boy?”, he asked, his voice a mix of awe and excitement.

You felt a surge of emotion, tears welling up in your eyes. “We’re having a boy”, you whispered, the reality of it sinking in.

Dean leaned in, kissing your forehead gently. “A boy”, he repeated, his voice filled with wonder. “We’re having a son”.

Your heart skipped a beat as Dean kissed your forehead, his touch filled with tenderness and love. The reality of the moment settled over you both, bringing a wave of emotions. Dean’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he started to ramble.

“I’m gonna teach him everything, Y/N”, Dean said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “How to fix cars, hunt mons-… well, maybe not that part right away—but, you know, the important stuff. How to ride a bike, play baseball. We’ll do all of it”.

You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of his excitement. “He’s going to be one lucky kid”, you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “And he’s going to have the best dad in the world”.

Dean’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your belly. “And he’s got the best mom already”, he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

The doctor finished the ultrasound, printing out a few pictures for you to keep. As you left the office, Dean kept looking at the photos, a big grin on his face. He was practically radiating happiness, and it was contagious.

Back at the bunker, Sam was waiting anxiously for news. When he saw your faces, he knew immediately that it was good news. “Well?”, he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Dean grinned stupidly, pulling an ultrasound picture out of his pocket and handing it to Sam. “Look at that”, Dean said, pointing to the unmistakable detail on the image. “Baby’s taking right after his old man”.

Sam looked at the picture, then back at Dean, and burst out laughing. “Oh, geez, Dean. Already comparing?”.

Dean shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. “Hey, can’t help it. It’s in the genes”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile at their antics. “Okay, boys, let’s not get too carried away”, you said, taking the picture back from Sam.

Dean quickly snatched the picture out of your hands. “Nuh uh, that’s mine”, he said with a grin. “You’ve got enough of these already”.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. But you better not lose it”.

Dean held the picture up like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Don’t worry, this one’s going in a frame. Right next to my bed”.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down. “You know, Dean, you’re already the embarrassing dad, and the kid isn’t even born yet”.

Dean shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “Hey, if I’m gonna be a dad, I might as well go all in, right?”.

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your heart at Dean’s enthusiasm. Despite everything, it was moments like this that reminded you of why you fell in love with him in the first place. His genuine excitement and commitment to being a good father made you believe that, together, you could make this work.

As the evening continued, the three of you spent time discussing plans for the nursery, potential baby names, and sharing stories about your own childhoods. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of normalcy and hope.

Later that evening, when Sam was already asleep, Dean wandered into your bathroom, laptop in hand, and a furniture online shop for babies open on the screen. He was about to ask you which color you preferred for the nursery when he saw what you were doing. You stood there in front of the mirror, wearing only your panties, lotion on your hands as you gently rubbed your belly.

Both of you froze slightly, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the moment. Dean’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of you, the glow of the bathroom light highlighting your pregnancy in a way that made his heart swell with emotion.

“Sorry”, he mumbled, breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to interrupt”.

You gave him a small smile, your cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment. “It’s to prevent stretch marks”, you mumbled, looking down at your lotion-loaded hands.

Dean took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Do you… uhm.. want some help?”, he asked softly, his voice full of genuine care and concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, handing him the bottle of lotion. Dean took it from you, squeezing some into his hands before rubbing them together. He moved behind you, his hands gently gliding over your belly, applying the lotion with careful, soothing strokes.

The warmth of his touch and his closeness sent shivers down your spine, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax into the moment. Dean’s hands moved with a tenderness that made your heart ache with both love and longing.

“You’re doing great, you know”, Dean murmured, his voice low and comforting. “For a twenty-one-year-old, you’re handling this situation pretty well”.

His hands continued their slow, soothing movements, inching upwards as he applied more lotion. His gaze shifted through the mirror, lingering on your swollen breasts. There was an intensity in his eyes, a mixture of admiration and desire that made your breath catch.

You felt your cheeks flush again, a warm, tingling sensation spreading through you. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, yet it felt strangely comforting. Dean’s touch was both tender and reassuring, grounding you in a way that made you feel safe and cherished.

His hands moved a bit higher, grazing the underside of your breasts, and you shivered at the touch. The sensation was both soothing and electrifying, stirring a desire that you had tried to keep at bay.

“Dean…”, you began again, your voice filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing.

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. “Do you want me to stop?”.

You shook your head slightly, your heart pounding. “No. I just… it feels… good”.

Dean’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “Good”, he whispered, his hands resuming their gentle caresses. “Just tell me if it’s too much”.

You nodded, your body relaxing into his touch as he continued to massage the lotion into your skin. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the warmth of his hands, made you feel closer to him than ever before.

Dean leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine. He nestled his face against your back, hiding his face, his movements slow and deliberate. His hands continued their journey upwards, finally reaching your breasts. He cupped them gently, his fingers squeezing ever so slightly.

You let out a soft gasp, the combination of his touch and the intimacy of the moment overwhelming your senses. Your body arched slightly, pressing into his hands, seeking more of the comforting pressure. Dean responded by increasing the intensity of his touch, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples.

“Dean…”, you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and vulnerability.

“I’ve got you”, he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. “Just relax”.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the sensations. Dean’s hands moved with a tender confidence, exploring your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. The warmth of his touch, combined with the softness of his kisses, created a cocoon of safety and affection around you.

As his hands continued to caress your breasts, you felt a growing warmth between your legs. The intimacy of the moment, the closeness and connection, was stoking a fire within you that was impossible to ignore.

“Dean, I…”, you began, struggling to find the words to express the swirling emotions inside you.

He paused, lifting his head to look at you in the mirror. “What is it, Y/N?”, he asked gently, his eyes filled with concern and love.

“I need you”, you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

That was all Dean needed to hear. He kissed your shoulder again, his touch firm but gentle as he guided you toward the sink. His hands pressed softly against your back, urging you to bend over slightly. You complied, your hands gripping the edge of the sink for support as you leaned forward.

Dean positioned himself behind you, his hands sliding down your sides, his touch sending shivers of anticipation through you. He pressed a kiss to the small of your back, his breath warm against your skin, before he straightened up and moved closer.

The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the reflection in the mirror, allowing you to see every movement, every expression. Dean’s eyes were dark with desire as he met your gaze in the mirror, his hands steady as they caressed your hips.

“You’re so beautiful”, he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. He ran his fingers along the waistband of your panties, gently tugging them down until they fell to the floor. His hands returned to your hips, guiding you into position.

Dean’s gaze never left yours in the mirror as he reached down to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal and fabric shifting filling the intimate space. He pulled down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his erection, his eyes darkening with desire.

With a firm yet gentle grip on your hips, he positioned himself at your entrance, taking a moment to savor the anticipation. The heat between you was palpable, an electric connection that seemed to hum in the air.

He slowly pushed into you, the sensation of him filling you inch by inch making you gasp softly. The stretch was exquisite, a mixture of pleasure and intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Dean’s hands tightened on your hips, his breath hitching as he fully seated himself inside you.

For a moment, he stayed still, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. His eyes locked onto yours in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze reflecting the depth of his feelings.

“You okay?”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your breath coming in soft pants. “Yeah, I’m okay”, you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Dean’s movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust carefully measured to bring you both higher into a shared ecstasy. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the controlled power behind each movement. His eyes never left yours in the mirror, a silent communication of desire and connection passing between you.

As he moved within you, the sensation built gradually, a slow burn that spread through your body, intensifying with each thrust. Dean’s grip on your hips was firm but gentle, his fingers pressing into your flesh in a way that grounded you in the moment.

“Fuck, you feel amazing”, Dean murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. His words sent a shiver through you, adding another layer to the pleasure that was building inside you.

You arched your back slightly, pushing back against him, feeling him deeper. The angle intensified the sensations, and you moaned softly, your body responding instinctively to his movements. Dean’s hands slid up your sides, tracing the curve of your body before coming to rest on your breasts. He cupped them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp.

“Dean”, you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve got you”, he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

Dean’s words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, and you shivered at the intimacy of his whisper. The connection between you was electric, every touch, every breath shared amplifying the intensity of the moment.

His rhythm was steady, his movements confident yet tender. Each thrust was deep and purposeful, building the pleasure slowly, allowing it to simmer and grow. You could feel every inch of him inside you, filling you completely, and the sensation was overwhelming in the best way.

Dean’s hands continued their exploration of your body, moving from your breasts to your sides, then down to your hips again. His touch was both possessive and gentle, as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of your skin. He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

His hands slid around to your front, one resting on your belly, a reminder of the life growing inside you, while the other moved lower, finding your clit with practiced ease.

You gasped at the added sensation, your body responding immediately to his touch. Dean’s fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, a delicious tension building inside you with every movement.

“Dean, please”, you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. The need in your voice was clear, and Dean responded with a renewed intensity.

His thrusts grew slightly faster, deeper, and his fingers on your clit moved with a focused precision. The combination was driving you wild, every nerve ending in your body alive with sensation. You could feel the pleasure building to a peak, a tidal wave of ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm you.

Dean’s eyes never left yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and filled with love. “Let go, Y/N”, he whispered, his voice a rough command.

With those words, you felt yourself tip over the edge. The orgasm crashed over you, a powerful wave of pleasure that left you trembling and gasping. Dean continued to move, drawing out your climax, his own breath coming in ragged gasps as he followed you into bliss.

You could feel him tense behind you, his grip on your hips tightening as he found his release. The sensation of him filling you, the warmth and connection, was almost too much to bear. You both rode the waves of pleasure together, your bodies perfectly in sync.

As the intensity began to fade, Dean’s movements slowed, his touch returning to a gentle caress. His lips brushed against your shoulder, trailing kisses up to your neck. You both stayed connected, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

Gently, he eased out of you, his hands still holding you close. He helped you turn around, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or regret. Seeing none, he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and love. Dean’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, his touch grounding you.

“You´re okay?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. Better than okay”.

Dean’s eyes softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “Need help getting cleaned up?”, he whispered, his voice tender and caring.

You shook your head, still smiling. “No, I think I can manage. Thanks”.

Dean nodded, slowly pulling his jeans back up and fastening his belt. He gave you one last, lingering kiss on your forehead before stepping back, allowing you some space. You turned towards the sink, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather yourself.

As you cleaned up, Dean quietly stepped out of the bathroom. He picked up the laptop and made his way to your bedroom, where he settled onto the edge of the bed, waiting for you. His thoughts raced, but he felt a sense of calm knowing that the intimacy you had just shared had brought you closer.

When you finished, you dried your hands and took one last look in the mirror, feeling a mixture of contentment and anticipation. You knew there were still many things to discuss and work through, but for the moment, you felt a sense of peace.

You walked into the bedroom, finding Dean sitting on the bed with the laptop open on his lap. He looked up as you entered, his eyes lighting up with a warm smile. “Feeling better?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah, much better. Thanks”.

Dean’s eyes followed your movements as you got some pajamas and began dressing. He couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of admiration for you. Even though he had never thought it was possible, seeing you carrying his baby made you even more beautiful in his eyes.

He marveled at the way you moved, the gentle curve of your belly, and the strength you showed in every action. It was a sight that filled him with a mixture of awe and pride.

As you pulled on your pajama top, you caught Dean watching you. His expression was soft and filled with an intensity that made your heart flutter. You smiled, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks. “What?”, you asked, your voice playful.

Dean shook his head, his smile widening. “Nothing”.

You sat down beside him, snatching the laptop off his lap and setting it aside. “Nothing, huh?”, you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “Okay, maybe not nothing”, he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’ve just been thinking… about everything. About us”.

You bit your lip, curious and slightly nervous about where this conversation was going. “What about us?”.

Dean hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he spoke up. “I’ve been wondering if we can handle this”, he said quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “Just having sex and all that stuff without being in love with each other”.

His words hung in the air, and you felt a knot form in your stomach. You looked away, trying to gather your thoughts. It was a question you had been asking yourself too, but hearing it from Dean made it all the more real.

The truth was, you both had feelings for each other, but both of you thought the other didn’t feel the same way. It was a delicate dance of unspoken emotions, each of you afraid to take the first step. The uncertainty was maddening, but neither of you wanted to risk the fragile peace you just had found.

You sighed, looking back at Dean, your heart heavy with the weight of your unspoken feelings. “Maybe we should just wait and see”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “Take things one day at a time and figure it out as we go”.

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and sadness. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We don’t have to rush into anything. We’ll take it slow, see where things go”.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the uncertainty still lingering but tempered by a mutual understanding. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start.

After a while, you broke the silence, wanting to shift the focus to something more positive. “So, about those colors for the nursery”, you said, your voice soft but curious. “Do you want to show me what you’ve been looking at?”.

Dean’s face brightened at your question, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah”, he replied, grabbing the laptop again. He opened the tab he had left on, showing various color schemes and furniture options for the nursery.

You scooted closer to him, your shoulders touching as you both looked at the screen. Dean pointed out a few color combinations he liked, explaining why he thought they would be perfect for the baby’s room. You found yourself getting caught up in his excitement, the mundane task of choosing nursery colors providing a much-needed distraction from the heavier topics.

“What do you think of this one?”, Dean asked, showing you a soft, calming palette of light blues and greys with matching furniture. “I thought it’d be nice and soothing for the baby”.

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “I like it. It’s peaceful”.

Dean grinned, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Great!".

The evening stretched on, filled with laughter and light-hearted conversation. Dean’s presence, his dedication to making things work, and the simple act of planning for your baby’s all combined to create a sense of hope and possibility.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 6

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