#five pebbles more like fem pebbles

[maiios]

hi i literally cant get lyss' designs out my brain

i had to draw feminine pebbles bc majority of my friends are lesbian and couldnt hear me out (hes a robot he can be whatever gender he wants <3)

designs by @lyss-butterscotch

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[opheliawhodrowned]

Daughters with Soft Underbellies [Chapter 1]

[Outlaw/Cowboy!John Price x Preachers Daughter!fem!Reader] Masterlist | AO3 | early access | navigation

there's someone new in town

cw: western time setting, archaic punishments/abuse, religious trauma, religious imagery, bad father/daughter relationship, minor wound mention, archaic standards of women, reader is Christian, probably inaccurate Christianity, more tags on ao3

wc: 2.7k

He has you kneeling on rice again. 

Unforgiving grains burrow deep into your skin as their wickedly sharp ends pierce straight through your knees. Eyes trained on the scuffed wooden floor below you, you do not look at your father. Leather boots skirt your vision as he paces beside you, slow and with consideration. You swallow and the aftertaste of that morning’s communion dances on your tongue. Sweet wine pairs oddly with your father’s brutality, but it is the only flavor you’ve ever known. 

Bloodied fingers coil around the back of the pew in front of you as he raps your knuckles with a wooden stick no larger than the circumference of his thumb. Searing pain cuts through you with the consideration of an untrained blade, but you are good at willing your tears away. He reminds you that this is your fault, and that this is a terrible waste. A waste of time, a waste of food—everything that concerns you is pure prodigality. Gluttony in its most concentrated form. You can consume nothing—not resource nor time—without it being a sin. 

Crack!

“Again,” he demands. 

Biting back the acrimony boiling in the depths of your throat, you shift. Rice scatters, bouncing along the floor as it spreads, and you grimace. There is only the slightest amount of comfort to be found in your movement, but it is met by swift punishment. You are not supposed to find solace while in the midst of one of your father’s demanding lessons. 

Crack!

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from His hands-” 

Crack!

“Wrong. Again,” he demands. 

Your mind reels as it attempts to recall the sermon your father gave that morning. His words spoken with utmost faith, the ones you are always made to recall as a lesson at the end of each morning, and yet you can’t. It’s patchy. Like the frayed ends of poorly woven textiles. No matter how often you blink, it won’t fix itself. You can only stumble and pray you pull on the right string to unravel it all. 

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from Him, and beat Him with it,” you attempt. 

Once more, you are punished. It’s difficult to hold back the tears now as the skin on your knuckles parts like dried clay in a forgotten riverbed. They’re wide, deep crevices. Broken skin is good. It serves a purpose. It allows you to soak up your father’s lessons directly from the source. 

“Do you not listen at all? Does your mind wander during my sermons? What better things do you have to think about than His word? Again,” he demands. 

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from Him, and beat Him on the head with it.” 

There is a gentle lull that succeeds your recitation. Anxious pacing ceases as your father stares down at your kneeling form, gaze burning into the back of your head. When he hums, content with your answer, you feel every muscle in your body melt. Proud, you look up at him, ready to revel in accolades, but his lips are pressed firmly together. It is the only way he is able to restrain the acidulous words he would otherwise spew at you. 

“Good,” he mutters, though it is flat. There is no pride to be found anywhere within him.

He strikes the stick against your knuckles five more times on each hand. With each impact, he reminds you this is for your own good. This is what a loving father does—a man of God—he teaches his daughter right from wrong. 

As usual, you are made to clean up the mess that remains after your lesson. Rice is swept up by broom and stowed away into the pockets of your apron like treasured pebbles found on a walk, and what little blood that remains on the pew is wiped clean. Your hands ache. They pulse and throb, and the apex of your knuckles sting as if you’ve rubbed salt in the broken skin. You might as well have done as much with the brine that seeps into the wounds each time you rub at your eyes. 

When all is clean, and your transgressions are swept aside, momentarily forgotten, you pray. Your father always says forgiveness is God’s duty. God is the quintessence of love and mercy while your father has proved many times he is not. A devout worshiper and priest, his love and respect is saved for his savior—never his daughter. So you kneel in the pews and bow your head before the cross strung up on the wall above you, and you beg. You apologize for the simple sin of your existence. You pray that God might bless you with the tools to be a better daughter. 

Amen.

You rise. The church is stilly, and you are alone. You are left to ruminate about your failures in this divine building until it is spotless. There is always more cleaning to be done. Breadcrumbs left from communion, wine that stains the wooden floors nearly as bad as your own blood does, muck from work boots; you are on your hands and knees more often than your own two feet. Perpetually in prayer. Reciting scriptures. Cleaning this house of God until not a speck of sin remains. 

When you are finished with your duties at the church, your father sends you into town to fetch wine. It’s foolish of you to believe he would allow you to sit at the dining table with him and partake in lunch. To enjoy a mouthwatering meal of boiled potatoes and ham. He always sends you out when you look like this—disheveled from cleaning and still trying to stunt the bleeding of your hands. It’s the acme of his lesson: ignominy. Shame digs in deeper, settles in nicer, when there’s an audience to witness it. 

Mr. Beckett’s chickens are roaming the town again. You notice a few stragglers as you come to the end of the path that slowly morphs into the main road. Colorful hens cluck and bob their heads as you weave between them. They feast on small beetles with iridescent exoskeletons that flutter and click between sparse strands of grass, but when they take note of you, they stare expectantly. You try not to wince as your knuckles scrape against the fabric of your apron, hands diving into your pockets to retrieve uncooked rice. They flock as you toss the grains on the ground for them to peck and gorge themselves, putting your punishment to good use. 

Sheep bleat at you just as you turn the corner into town. The flock has grown steady this spring with several new additions of playful lambs that trot after their mothers. They curiously line the fence as you pass by, and cry pitifully as your figure grows smaller in the distance. Townsfolk flutter in and out of steady wood buildings with their pockets full of money, both earned and spent. Your own fingers brush against the cash your father gave you for your task—you keep in mind his words of warning: 

I’ll be counting that change when you return, girl. 

The saloon isn’t busy this early in the afternoon, yet Mr. Beckett is perched at his bar wiping down glistening glasses. Empty tables adorn scratched wooden floors, and the tops are sparkling clean. The summer sun seeps through cracked windows, though the building still seems darker than it should be. A group of four men lurk in the far corner of the bar, each talking lowly and looking at you with shifting eyes, yet you avert your gaze as you approach the bar. 

“Afternoon, Mr. Beckett,” you greet. You muster your best smile as you wipe a hand beneath your eyes, worried tear stains are still visible on your cheeks. “Your chickens are out again.” 

Chuckling, Mr. Beckett pushes the empty glasses to the side to give you his full attention. Wrinkles settle in his face as crows feet wink by his eyes, and they only deepen as he smiles at you. There’s a cheeky twinkle that lurks in his grey eyes, and a rosy color that fills his cheeks.

“I’m sure that broke your heart having to see those critters running amuck along the trail,” he teases. “What can I do for you, kid?” 

“My father sent me to get some wine for next week’s service,” you say. 

“Ah, I should’ve known. Three?” he asks. 

“Yes, please.” 

Mr. Beckett holds up a finger as if to tell you to stay put before he wanders off to fetch your order. Sighing, you look down at your knuckles while you wait. They’ve stopped bleeding, but the blood crusts on your skin like boulders on a mountain. Your father didn’t even give you time to clean the scabs from your hands before sending you off to do his bidding. It’s almost as much of an eyesore as it is a literal sore. 

But—as it is with all wounds—your blood seems to have attracted the dogs. 

Their gazes burn your flesh, and you are suddenly well aware of the men at your back. You had done your best to ignore them upon your arrival, but curiosity gnaws at you with dull, aching teeth. Casting a cautious glance over your shoulder, you soak up swift looks at each of the men. You catch sight of a masked man too large for his own good, a handsome fellow with deep brown skin and kind eyes, a stranger with an even stranger haircut, and a man with a low sitting hat. The brim nearly covers his eyes, but you’re still able to catch the blaze of his cobalt gaze as he stares at you. 

You shiver. 

“Alright, here we are,” Mr. Beckett hums as he returns behind the bar. Glad to have someone else to focus on, you find a smile on your face as he begins to unload the bottles in his arms onto the counter. “Three bottles of red wine. Should be plenty for everyone, I hope.” 

“I appreciate it, Mr. Beckett,” you chuckle. When digging into your apron pocket, you can’t help but wince as your knuckles once again scrape against the unyielding fabric. You play it off with a cough as you present the cash to him. “This ought to be enough.” 

At the same time as he grabs the cash with one hand, Mr. Beckett grabs your wrist with the other. Gently, he turns your palm over until your knuckles are on display beneath the oil lamp that sits just above your head. Pressing your lips together, you keep your eyes on the bartop, too ashamed to witness the results of your own stupidity. 

“Why don’t you grab a seat, kid,” he insists. 

There’s no use in arguing; you’re well aware that he won’t give you your change until you let him clean you up. Sighing, you hop onto the stool and lay your palms flat on the counter while Mr. Beckett retrieves his strongest moonshine. He pours a bit of it onto a rag before pressing it into your cracked skin where it soaks deep like thirsty soil. Your squeak echoes in the near empty room, and you feel your face heat as you attempt to keep your head down. 

“Why’d he do it this time?” he asks. 

“It was my fault,” you insist. 

“You and I both know it wasn’t,” Mr. Beckett retorts. 

You swallow as he wipes the rag along your skin before moving to the next knuckle. “I couldn’t quote his sermon today. I should’ve paid better attention.” 

“Perhaps your father should have more grace. He ought to marry you off already. I reckon you’d find more peace with a husband than you would with him.” 

Things grow quiet between you and Mr. Becket just as the muttering grows louder behind you. Those men—those strangers—make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Still, you are grateful for their presence, as they give you something else to talk about than your unfortunate life as an eternal servant to your father. 

“Mr. Beckett, can I ask about the gentlemen behind me?” you whisper.

He politely drops one hand in order to move to the next, but his eyes stray to strangers at your back. “Travelers. Blew into town a day or two ago. They’ve been doing odd jobs to scrounge up some money, but they’re nothing but trouble, if you ask me.” 

“What makes you say that?” you ask, voice cracking as he starts cleaning your other hand. 

Sighing, Mr. Beckett keeps his tongue between his teeth for a moment as he weighs his options. Eyes turning back to your hands, he pauses as he inspects the blood crusting on the rag. 

“That fellow in the mask… I’ve heard of him. Ghost stories ‘bout him anyway. They all have strange accents. From across the pond, or so they say. They’ve all got this uncanny look in their eyes and… well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re the 141 Gang. At least, that fellow in the back looks like the man wanted from Blackpeak.” 

This name—141—drops from Mr. Beckett’s lips like it’s supposed to mean something to you, and yet it doesn’t ring a bell. Eyes narrowing, you tilt your head at him. 

“I’m not familiar,” you admit. 

“Dangerous people. Robbers. Murderers. They might greet you with a smile, but just look at how sharp their teeth are, kid. Nothing but wild animals ready to rip out throats for a bounty or good pay. Surprised they’re not wanted by half of The West by this point. They make people disappear, then vanish just as quickly. I’m just hopin’ if I keep my head down long enough, they’ll skip town before they cause any trouble.” 

Neither of you speak as the rest of your knuckles are cleared of debris and coagulated scabs. You are often plagued with the human affliction of having your heart stuck in your throat, but now you know your feelings aren’t unfounded. That tingle in your skin, the heat boiling at the nape of your neck—you wonder if these men even bother to wash the blood from their clothes before pretending to be human. Do they shed their wolf-teeth before attempting to blend into the flock? 

Once Mr. Beckett is content with the dismal state of your hands, he finally gives you your change. You quickly stow it away in your apron pocket before you turn to the several bottles of wine waiting for you on the bartop. You gather them in your arms before you slide off of the stool, eager to get home and well away from this 141 Gang. Yet just as your feet hit the ground, the fabric of your skirt catches on the wood stool, and suddenly your seat comes toppling to the floor with a deafening thud. 

Shame boils deep in your chest where it superheats your blood until your entire body is sweltering. You look up from the mess you’ve made with parted lips, yet no words come out. Your chest heaves as you stare up at Mr. Beckett with wide eyes, yet he only looks at you with benignancy. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean- It just caught-” you stutter. 

“It’s alright, kid,” he interjects. 

Silence envelops you so suddenly that you’re painfully aware of how many sets of eyes are on you. Dark gazes glint in the numbra that lurks in the corner of the saloon. The men look over their shoulders and from beneath the brims of their hats to soak up the view of you—a trembling, pathetic thing that’s about to drop the wine from her hands. 

“I’ll clean it up, don’t you worry about it,” Mr. Beckett assures as he rounds the corner of the bartop, waving you off. “Now, you best be on your way. Shouldn’t keep your daddy waiting.” 

Turning around feels like opening a healing wound—it burns and leaves you trembling as you mutter a farewell and stumble out the door. You keep the wine in your arms clutched to your chest with wounded hands as you rush back home. Sheep bleat and chickens cluck, yet their whining cannot drown out the sound of your heart. That booming thunder as blood gushes through your veins; it still boils. Vermillion waves of unrelenting shame and fear. 

Even on the edge of town you can still feel it—the gaze of those wolves. You pray to God that they leave your sleepy livestock town alone. 

Then again, God has never been merciful in answering your prayers.

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 3. Incident.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: swearing and swearing; strained relationship; chase.

In the end, only you managed to survive. running for survivors xenomorph managed to find time to stop you from repairing the generators, which is why by the end of the test you were unable to repair the last one and climbed out through the hatch. It would be more accurate to say that the xenomorph himself led you to the exit, chasing you throughout the ship until you escaped. You could say it was a noble act on his part to allow his future mate to leave largely unhurt, and you might agree with that if you didn't know the creature's selfish motive.

If everything continues like this, then soon the survivors will rally against you in tests with the xenomorph in order to present you to him and the Entity first of all.

You shudder when such a thought, the course of events, comes to your head, but you understand that the chances of such an outcome are rapidly growing, while the stranger diligently presents you with gifts in the form of other people's deaths. Perhaps the event with Ripley breaks you, or at least breaks you, which is why in each subsequent match you become colder and colder towards the deaths of others. Death is a concept not applicable to the world of the entity; each departure from the location created by the Creature only means an inevitable meeting with their tormentor, and after that the noise of the fire, the conversations of other people.

Kicking a pebble as you walked away from the fire into the forest to look for offerings, you heard a fragment of a conversation:

“I swear, if I have another test with this...” the man, whose name is David, says with undisguised irritation. His face contorts in disgust, he doesn’t even want to say your name, he was so disgusted, but his gaze - cold and angry - scans your back. “I’d rather climb onto the hook myself.”

“David, don't say that...”

“But why? After all, it annoys you yourself to be killed, so that later this monster will bring your body to this one.”

“Even if this is so, what did she do wrong? You think she herself wants to be an eternal object of obsession. Maybe you can also say the same about Lori?”

“Go to hell, Honas.”

Tears roll up to the corners of your eyes, but you, determined not to cry at least by the fire, go into the forest with your head held high . You can't let others know about this conversation . You can't let others know how much this affects you . You can’t, you can’t, you can’t... but you want to cry even more.

Salty paths sting the skin of the cheeks; as soon as a slight breeze blows, it becomes even worse. The accumulated moisture obscures your eyes, and now you no longer understand what kind of herbs you are collecting: are they daisies? Maybe basil? Or in general you came across calendula. It’s better not to wipe tears from your face with dirty hands, but you didn’t care anymore. Pulling your hand on the sweater, squeezing the ends with your fingers, you try to get rid of the moisture, but you only start crying harder.

The body is beating in hysterics, a silent cry escapes the lips. Why you? Why did the monster like you so much that he decided to destroy your life just to make him his mate? Or have you somehow disappointed the Entity? Maybe they were angry or not desperate enough in this endless cycle.

In an impenetrable fog and behind a veil of tears, being out of your mind, you imagine a blurry figure of a xenomorph. The humanoid creature stands in the distance and does not move. It observes how low you have fallen and despaired, are you ready to accept your fate as it is and as it is destined for you?

“Well, why, why exactly me?..” you ask the image of a stranger, but the creature is silent in response to your question, which only irritates you more. Anger rises from your entire being, pours out in the face of a heart-rending cry of anger at the creature that destroyed your life. “Go to hell...”

“Everything is fine?“

Ripley's voice puts you in a daze. You look away from the mirage, turn away to examine the figure of a woman emerging from the forest, and as soon as you turn back, nothing remains of the image of the xenomorph. The thickening fog dissipates and you realize that all this time you have been talking to a stone, the outlines of which are painfully similar to your personal stalker.

You shake your head. You didn’t want Ellen to witness your tears and hysteria, but from her soft look and tone, it became clear that she understood everything. That’s why she was silent, allowing you to release your simmering emotions, to throw out the disappointment and indignation that had accumulated over all the trials with the xenomorph.

The woman comes closer and puts her arm around your shoulders . She hugs the way a mother hugs her beloved child, who has faced adversity and is ready to shelter her from any problems. But Louise is not omnipotent, even if she wants to be so; it cannot shelter you from the oppression of the Entity and the xenomorph possessed by you, but it is able to give you warmth and peace, so that at least for a couple of minutes you do not think about the inevitable.

Ripley's arms are warm and calm.

“Cry as much as you need,” the woman says the words that you have long wanted to hear. At least from someone, even from damn David . Your grip on her back only gets stronger, and the fabric of her clothes wrinkles in your fingers. “I believe that you can cope with all adversities. But don’t keep negativity inside you that you can’t live with.“

“I can…” you sigh into her neck. The former officer smells of a fire, a wet forest and, not surprisingly, the Nostromo, the smell of which is difficult to describe; if you did take a chance, the first thing that comes to mind is the viscous saliva of the xenomorph and its acidic blood. “Thank you for this...” you say, after a minute of silence in someone else’s arms. “Ellen, is there anything else in the behavior of the xenomorph that I should know about?”

“After the stage of courtship on the part of the male, it follows...”

Mount Ormond greets you with the illusion of a bright sun in the sky, snowdrifts and a cold wind from which you cannot hide. And, of course, it was a xenomorph . And of course, you were his obsession.

“Damn, we ended up all together,” David spat on the wooden floor of the shack. “I won’t sit down with you to repair the generator...”

Honas, who spoke, was clearly not in the best mood. Especially after what his friend said.

“Don’t interfere. I can handle the generators myself, without you.”

With these words, David left you, leaving you alone with Vasquez and Michaela. Ridd looked somewhat surprised, as evidenced by her slightly open mouth and confused look as she followed King's back before he disappeared into the distance.

“Idiot...” Honas sighed before turning to you and the witch. “Shall we repair this generator?”

“If you don’t mind, I would like to bless the totem. At the same time, I’ll see if there are any damned totems here, who knows what.”

“Okay, I don’t mind ,” you quickly agree with other people’s words and approach the generator to begin repairs. The man who remains with you sits down next to you and there is silence for a long time, broken by the sounds of equipment being repaired. When silence becomes unbearable, and curiosity eats up from within, you decide to ask a man a question: “Why did you decide to stay with me?”

“It’s safer that way, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so that’s why,” you think, not comfortingly, “Sorry, but not this time.”

“A?..”

“He is here. Leave.”

You bounce away from the almost started generator, as if from a piece of hot iron, as soon as the head of the xenomorph begins to appear from the strong point. Being a former CIA employee, albeit working in the codebreaking department, Honas had a high reaction speed and endurance, which allowed him to dodge the tail of an alien, directed either in his direction, or in yours, running slightly ahead of the man.

Through one of the Entity's offerings, you have been given the power to see the auras of other survivors. Despite the fact that the yellow figures were poorly visible against the background of the light Ormond , you managed to adjust your path so as not to run out onto David repairing the generator and the red-haired witch blessing the totem . You run into the house, once a mountain resort hotel, and climb to the second floor, watching as the xenomorph, who has lost sight of you , turns his head around and noisily inhales the air, trying to track you by smell. Considering how many times he literally drooled on you, marking you with his scent, it was not surprising that the killer found you quite quickly.

Standing on all fours and preparing its tail, the xenomorph climbed to the second floor after you, while you, without wasting time, ran to the end of the corridor, where there were boards in front of the open (broken) window. You had to slow down so that the stranger could close the distance, and when he stretched his tail forward with monstrous force and speed, you ducked down, thereby dodging the attack, and then knocked together boards were thrown down on the killer’s head.

You heard the evil hiss of the perfect weapon when you were already downstairs, jumping from the second floor window . If this were not the world of essence, but the long-forgotten reality of your native world, a fall from such a height would mean a break in your legs. Without wasting time while the killer was busy destroying the obstacles in his path, you ran to the dilapidated walls with skis and poles to them . The xenomorph could not lose sight of you, and he would not want to switch to another survivor; if one of your comrades suddenly ran into the path of the alien, then at most he would get a paw on the body - no more.

Running away from the creature turned out to be more than exciting . In the struggle for your life, where a wrong turn meant meeting sharp claws, teeth or a tail, fears about what others thought about you receded.

Adrenaline took its place.

It was as if you were playing catch-up not only with the xenomorph and the Entity, but also with death itself, breathing down your neck . What's around the next corner? Where is it better to run, hide, wait? The new role opened up new opportunities and sensations . There was no longer a feeling of that all-consuming helplessness, there was only the instinct of survival, a cold mind and a sober mind, analyzing where to run next or where the killer would attack. And even if other survivors had questions about how you managed to run around while repairing five generators, no one dared to ask questions or express suspicions or indignations, while all four survivors could leave the killer’s territory unharmed.

Nobody. Except David.

Perhaps he was simply jealous or you had hurt his fragile pride, but despite your usefulness and vitality, King continued to cast sidelong glances in your direction . He still refused to work as a team with you, keeping his distance from others and seeming to be waiting for something.

“Tell me honestly, did you lie under this bastard, that he is not specifically hunting you in all seriousness?” when the man’s patience came to an end, he, with a slight squint in his dark eyes, finally voiced the question that had been daring him for a long time. “Or have you been a hidden talent all this time, waiting for the right moment?”

Ellen Ripley was a caring mother, affectionate and kind to you, but absolutely ruthless towards people who did not respect others or value teamwork. Perhaps it was the influence that the new survivor had on you, or perhaps the chase had strengthened your character, leaving behind your former vulnerability and timidity.

Murderers don't like snotty girls who are ready to cry from scratches on their knees. What attracts them much more, one might say excites them, is the pursuit of a victim who has not yet been broken, ready to fight back both physically and verbally.

“Are you jealous?”

“Envy that you turn out to be a whore for murderers, and also for monsters?” David asked with feigned amazement, opening his eyes wide, allowing you to see all the rage, anger, and disappointment that had accumulated over all the trials. Perhaps he, like you, did not have enough time to express his emotions. “I’m just curious who will end up in the same bed with you next. Maybe GostFace? I remember you were so happy to see him.”

You understood that the man was talking complete nonsense . Driven by his emotions, self-disappointment and former helplessness, he watched with envy your rapid growth not only as an individual, but also as a significant member of the team . David, who initially had skills useful to the team, was always treated with inflated expectations, and when he failed to cope, when most or all of the team found themselves in the clutches of the entity, the man took it personally.

You couldn’t blame him for the fact that King sees in you a reflection of himself from the past, but you also had no desire to tolerate his character, groundless rude accusations and insults.

“You know, David,” your voice is deceptively quiet so as not to attract the attention of the xenomorph prowling around the territory allotted to him, but, nevertheless, you clearly highlighted the threat with your intonation. “I used to admire you, no matter what the result of the test...”

“...I don't need your admiration...”

“But now I clearly see that you are nothing more than a boy who is offended by everyone, and first of all by himself ”, here it is. You clearly outlined the reason for this conflict, the struggle not of you against King, but of him against himself. “So before you say anything towards other people, deal with your problems first.”

“Fuck you.”

Careless hand movement. David, without calculating his own strength, pushed you painfully in the chest . Having lost your balance and falling backwards, you began to fall, and in another second, the back of your head could have become closely acquainted with the window frame, leaving you unconscious until the end of the test, if ... if not for the xenomorph located in the window opening .

The absolute predator looked around the shack, hidden under its black shell. One of his paws, large and heavy, lay on your shoulder and held you in place, saving you from a blow . Over the course of countless chases and close contacts, you managed to get used to both the size of the monster and its frightening presence, which is why your heart no longer beat like an antelope in the headlights of a car, but a subconscious fear sometimes tickled your mind . What else you were able to learn during your endless meetings were the shades and echoes of the xenomorph’s emotions , expressed in poses, movements and hisses, and the way the creature from deep space tensed up, preparing for an attack, you could only draw one conclusion - it was very alien angry

For the first time, you so clearly felt his overwhelming thirst for blood, but it was not directed at you at all, but at the cause of your unfulfilled injury. Today, the xenomorph is ready to sacrifice his instincts and eliminate the threat to his future mate.

“Run- ” you manage to scream before the predator points its weapon towards the man. In a second, the alien’s tail could have made a hole in David’s head, if not for the sudden roar of the Entity’s world and its intervention: a semblance of a hand that sprouted from the floor, pierced the creature’s body, entwined it with its spider-like legs and pulled it into the fog.

The test was terminated early.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

hii

ive been a reader of yours ever since you posted your february filth fest and i have been craving for a continuation of day fifteen: should i? yungi cause i want a dom! yunho x sub! mingi x sub! reader so bad??? it's okay it you don't want to or can't!

all your works are beautiful, so beautiful 🤧 im gatekeeping it 🤧🤧❤️👏

Should I? - Pt 2

a/n: thank you so much 😭 messages like this help get me through rough days and i appreciate that my works are so well received so far:( i hope you enjoy!

Jeong Yunho x fem reader x Song Mingi

"Calm your brat ass down and then we can fuck our girlfriend."

✫彡wordcount: 2.8k

(>ᴗ•) genre: smut w/o plot

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: picks up where it left off, poly relationship, threesome, cam/streaming AU, unprotected (boo🗣️), toys, hard daddy dom yunho/sub mingi/sub reader, orgasm control, degradation/name calling, overstim, bj, light dacryphilia, scratching, slapping&spanking, sprinkles of size kink, begging, feral mingi (WRAGAGAGA), dp, cream pie, rough, drooling, praise, soooo much dirty talk im sorry, churning butter, i went way overboard yall the yungi brain rot is getting to me, i skimmed over but didn't really edit

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

It's been far too long in this same position for your own sanity.

    Straddled over Yunhos lap with him pounding your insides, giving the digital audience a good view of how your body reacts to his touch as he pulls your hips up and shows the camera how creamy you've made him before slamming them back down on his. Mingi holding your hands and pulling your chest flush to Yunhos as he whispers how bad he wants to be the one up in your guts or the one getting his rearranged by your boyfriend, just loud enough for the mic to pick it up over the lewd noises that your cunt makes.

    The wet squelching makes it all the harder for you to hold back as Yunho tells you not to cum.

     "Be a good Baby and let Daddy cum first," is his exact words as he feels your gummy walls hugging him tighter all of the sudden. Mingi whimpers in tandem with you, if you can't cum than neither can he. And he knows how defiant you are, you could be here all night fighting not to cum before Yunho.

Mingi lets loose your hands and they immediately wrap up in his hair, bringing him over his shoulder to kiss him. You kneel up higher to make sure his face isn't in frame, so Yunho has to lift his hips with more force to keep knocking into your g-spot, his own face hidden in your chest and nipping at the pebbled flesh there.

"Daddy p-"

"No." His simple denial makes you tug at Mingis hair, a loud moan slipping past his lips as he grinds up on Yunhos back. "I don't care how good it feels, you best not cum until I tell you to."

"Fuck, Daddy, please, she deserves it, look at how good she's taking you, you're so big and she's swallowing you whole," he begs for you, nearly drooling on your head as he holds it close to his neck, watching on the screen as Yunho holds himself up on his hands and pumps into you ruthlessly. "Oh fuck, Yu- Daddy, she's so wet, she wants to cum so bad," he nearly slips up as his own brain short circuits, humping his back and clawing at yours.

      He feels your pain, he has empathy as you cry into his neck, "p-please!" Yunho likes to test you both every so often and see just how long you can hold back without releasing until he says so. But he never says so. He goes and goes and fucks and fucks and fucks until you're forced to cum even without permission, taking a sadistic joy in punishing you for inevitably cumming. It doesn't matter if you held out for one hour or five, he still humiliates you for cumming before he does: especially since you've began streaming. It makes his heart and cock soar to the heavens to make his Babies beg for his forgiveness infront of a live audience, asserting his dominance and near ownership of you both.

"Did I stutter? Do as you're told, Princess," he growls into your chest, a smirk growing on his lips as another whimper sounds from the both of you, "and Min?"

"Yes, Daddy?" He responds eagerly, hands sliding from your back to his stomach, sandwiched between your sweaty bodies as they move in a burning lust.

"Stop humping me and go get our Princess' toy," the mention of it has you writhing, pushing on his shoulders and begging to just cum already.

A blush on his cheeks at the fact that the entire 1,036 viewers now know he was grinding on Yunhos back, he slides off the bed and to the dresser on the other side of the room.

A bright pink rabbit vibrator in his hands, he stands just out of frame as Yunho gets a grip on your hips and pulls you off of him with a pop. "Please, please- just let me cum on your cock, I've been so good!" Your pleading doesn't get you any sympathy from your Daddy, and only gets more pings sounding from the laptop.

He flips you off of him, crawling over you and up your body until his wet cock sits on your cheek. The audience can just see your jaw, lips trembling as you open them to speak. "Can I suck?"

They see Mingi crawl between your legs, keeping his head between your thighs to stay hidden from the side view they have. Yunho grabbing the base of his thick member and tapping the leaking tip on your flushed face. Your fingers gripping the sheets as a vibrating sound starts.

"Daddy, n-no, please don't make him, I want to cum so bad, I won't be able to hold back!" His free hand comes down and cups your jaw gently, sliding his thumb into your begging mouth.

"Go ahead, Min."

Your whine of protest dies down when he slips his tip into your mouth, letting you suck at your own pace as he strokes your cheek. It's almost therapeutic, sucking at him like he's the sweetest lollipop on Earth.

And then your own pleasure returns, making your eyes roll back as Mingi presses the head of the vibrating toy into your gaping cunt. The moans you let out around him makes him grip the headboard, pressing his hips down and making you take more. "Be good, Baby. Don't cum, just take it."

    "Mmhmp," the muffled response makes him chuckle deeply, looking over his shoulder at his other baby- who's in a trance watching your cunt swallow the silicone up greedily and clenching when the extension presses onto your clit.

     "Minnie." His head snaps up just as he's going to pull the toy out and start fucking you on it, his hand slipping and pressing it deep into you as he makes eye contact with Yunhos dark gaze.

     "Daddy?"

  "If you make her cum we can fuck however you like, yeah?" It's just a small thing, really. Mingi knows he'll be able to cum his brains out before the session is over- but to do it in his favorite way? His favorite position? He has to grind down on the bed to relieve the throbbing of his member at the very thought.

"I- fuck, really Daddy?" His hands get back to work before he even gets a reply, fucking the toy into you with a new vigor at the promise of his favorite position.

The way you moan and gag around him makes it hard for Yunho to respond -this being his favorite position- but he gives him a simple "Yes, Baby."

     When he turns back to you, looking down at you as he fucks your mouth, your suspicion that he said that just to make you cum without his permission is etched into stone. He smirks as you begin moaning uncontrollably, the smooth silicone and the way Mingi works it in and out of you and the intense vibration on your begging insides and clit makes it all too hard to hold back- but you do. You look up at him defiantly, as mean as you can as you're gagging on his girth.

    "Awwe~" he coos, slapping your cheek lightly, "you keep acting like a brat and I'll take you over my lap right now, I don't care how many people are watching." He pulls his member from your mouth and sits on your chest, nowhere near his full weight but it makes your head fuzzy all the same. The next slap is a tad harder, "you dirty slut, bet you like having an audience, hmm? Like people seeing how good your boyfriends fuck you?"

     "Daddy!" You call out as you pant, slapping his thighs, "please, please! N- cum!" Your moans make Mingi grind down on the bed harder. He's making you feel so good, he can tell. He's watching so close as you leak around the toy and the way your stomach rises and falls quickly as you try and hold back. He holds the extension it off of your clit and replaces it with his warm tongue, a content groan bubbling up his throat that makes you cum on the spot. "Fuck, fuck, Minnie st-ah!"

You squirt on his face in front of all 1,604 viewers, nails digging into Yunhos thighs as your peak hits you, the toy incessantly vibrating against your swollen walls as Mingi laps at your clit like a man starved and Yunhos fat cock leaks against the column of your breast, his weight keeping you still as you writhe. Mingi's big hands grip your hips, making out with your clit as you continue to unravel, the clenching and wetness of your heat making the toy slide out.

He takes advantage of that and latches onto your abused sex, suckling and licking and nibbling everywhere as you come down. "M-minnie, stop it," your voice is small and wavering as overstimulation settles in, but he doesn't care as he swallows up all of your juices eagerly. "Daddy, s'too much, make him stop!" He sits up and off the bed immediately as you tap his thighs, grabbing the back of Mingi's neck and pulling him away, his tongue still lapping even as he yanked away.

     "What a good boy, you were so good you made her cum," his praise goes straight to his neglected length, making him twitch as he leans into his hold, uncaring as he looks like a scolded kitten in the eyes of the viewers. The way your juices flow down his chin and neck, sliding down his heaving, toned chest as he's held back from devouring you makes the chat explode with activity.

      "Fuck now Daddy," he moans breathlessly as he licks his lips clean, "me in her, you in her. Need it." His short, feral words make the both of you realize what he means. It's his all time favorite place to be. In all the places he traveled, his favorite is pressed close to the two of his most prized loved ones in the most intimate way he can think of, in the safety of his home.

    Even before you began streaming some of your sex life, it made him cum immediately every time and his libido through the roof as he begged and begged to stay there and keep fucking just like that for hours on end until his balls were aching and even then some.

Yunho wordless climbs back into bed behind Mingi, pushing him forward as he caresses his hips. A single kiss on his neck has him reeling, falling over you just how the stream had started-

His large frame covering yours, arms wrapped around your head as his cock slips in with the guidance of Yunhos warm hand.

"Slow Baby, you licked our Princess' brain out," he chuckles as he slides his hands over his hips and to your thighs, holding them apart as Mingi begins thrusting in a wild manner- opposite of Yunhos instructions. "Isn't he so big, Babygirl?"

     A simple broken curse is his response, "f-uck!"

    "N'cum, Daddy," Mingi pants, clawing at your head as he fucks as deep as humanly possible, banging against your cervix and nearly painting your womb as Yunho licks the shell of his ear.

    "Stop." It's as if the world stops when Yunho speaks, all movements paused as he uses his authoritative tone. The slapping of skin stops, replaced with both of your heavy breathing and your whimpers.

Mingi growls into your ear, insides burning as he forces his pleasure to a halt, glaring back at Yunho. "Daddy," he bellows, "I need to fuck her."

"You can wait."

"N-"

"Lay back." Despite the clear tension in his body, Mingi rolls off of you and begins fisting himself while your juices are still warm. "Don't cum."

"I want to cum inside of my girlfriend," he snaps back, holding himself back from tackling Yunho as he lifts you away from his side like a rag doll. He knows he's not the one in control, but his instincts are telling him above all else to simply fuck your brains out and then let Yunho do the same to him.

"Ah," Yunhos dark chuckle is so rough compared to how he turns you around to face Mingi and rests your back on his chest, treating you like a porcelain statue as he kneads your breasts in his hands, engulfing them completely, "your girlfriend? Baby-"

"Yes, I want to fucking fill her up."

"Minnie!" You gasp scandalized, like you didn't just squirt on his face for an audience.

"I want my cum dripping out for days, need-"

"Baby!" Yunho yells lowly, shutting him up. "Deep breaths, calm your brat ass down and then we can fuck our girlfriend."

"M'sorry, Daddy." No he's not. He's only speaking his mind- no matter how feral that mind is at the moment. "Want to fuc-"

    "I don't care what whores want." He growls, clearly spotting that his sub-space is slipping away with how badly he just wants to have cum every where. "You were doing so good, Babyboy. You made our little Princess cum, you fucked her for so long earlier- tsk. And here I was thinking I would reward you." He drags his hands all over your body as he speaks, drowning in the both of your fucked out presences so deeply that he forgets you're streaming. "My sweet boy was replaced by a cum whore."

Mingi whimpers loudly, thrown back into the submissive deep end as Yunho makes you crawl over his hips, guiding you down back onto his cock. "Do you want our Minnie-ah to fill you up first before Daddy joins?"

     "Fuck, Princess, please! Please let me!" Mingi grabs at your body roughly, eyes watery as he looks up beggingly.

      "Yea-"

    Yunho slams your hips together, a scream of pleasure ripping through both of you as his fat tip knocks into your deepest insides. "Ah ah, Ming-" One of his hands leaves your hips and cups your mouth quickly, leaving Mingi to his own devices to make himself cum inside of you.

      "Careful, Babygirl," he coos darkly as he holds you in place for Mingis wild and uncoordinated thrusts, muffling all of your moans as your brain goes dumb and makes you yell out their names. "Such a pretty pair," he moans as he watches his hips bang into yours intently, "good fucking sluts for Daddy, hm?"

You can only respond with moaning and drooling into his hand, but Mingi yells out all of your thoughts. "Fuck, shit, yes! Yes, we're good sluts, we're your good sluts, Daddy's good fuck toys!"

All 4,264 viewers watch as he fucks into you harshly one last time, listening as you squeal out muffledly.

A single moment passes before Yunhos cock is prodding at your stretched hole, fucking into you and joining Mingi with a loud grunt. He grabs your hips roughly once again, fucking into your spent cunt with ease.

"P-please, mercy," you call out as you fold onto Mingi, wetness dripping out of you and soaking everything near.

It feels too good, so good. Mingis warm cum lubing up your insides for the intense stretch of the two goliaths you call your boyfriends. Mingi settled against your g-spot as Yunho tries to fuck his way into your guts. Both of their moans and pants and groans, Mingis feral growling as he wraps his big arms around your waist. "No mercy," his voice barely reaches into your fuzzy head.

"Minnie is right, Princess," he speaks with a slap to your behind, "no mercy."

And there was none, they fucked into you until you were a drooling, begging, sopping wet mess. Both of their cum continual mixed into you with their untamed thrusts. Your clit buzzing and ass sore from your Daddy's punishment. Your back covered in scratches from how long gone Mingi was. The laptop was no doubt overheating as it streamed nonstop for over three hours, viewer count now in the hundred thousands and pinging like crazy with donations, even as the three of you slump onto each other tiredly with the last of your brains calling out to one another.

"My Babies," Yunho speaks softly as he massages your red behind tenderly, watching with a fucked out smile as you nibble at Mingis neck lovingly.

"Daddy," the two of you chime together, clinged to each other for dear life as Yunhos thick member moves a fraction of an inch. "Noooo, stay," Mingi whimpers softly, pressing his cock closer to his in the mess of your cunt.

"I'll be back in just a moment, Sweet Boy, take care of our Princess," he leans and kisses both of your heads as he pulls out. He never lets the stream run as he clean you up, as he takes care of you both. That's too intimate to share with the world, too special.

His cock drips all of your fluids on the bed as a final, new ding sounds out. One that you've never heard before.

You all tiredly turn and look, eyes going wide at the notification on the screen. Jaws dropped at the amount a stranger had just gifted.

your.captain tipped $450

Let me join next time ;)

-

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT JOHN PRICE IN A ROBE.

cw: fluff, comfort, flirting, pet names, reader working in delivery, male anatomy, slighty smug price pairing: captain john price x fem reader

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

delivering is quite difficult in the morning, the point is not in the number of possible traffic jams, but in the fact that from the very morning you have to quickly bake a batch of delicious buns, brew aromatic coffee, pampering your nose with a deep aroma even after a certain amount on the road, and then load all this in a basket on a bicycle so you can sit down and open your morning with the first delivery to the neighborhood closest to your cafe.

the path is not long, but it’s enough to see your immediate surroundings, a scattering of freshly green trees, evenly trimmed bushes and updated fences around the houses that you have come thousands of times already, greeting those who caught your eye, high-fiving the little guys who often ran to the cafe for bread, and now they ran to school, calling you loudly as you passed by, exclaiming in one voice — «lady from the cafe, lady from the cafe!», little devils still can't remember your name.

after a few minutes of listening to the asphalt under the rubber wheels crunching with small pebbles, the bicycle brings you to a rather spacious house, a light facade and a small porch, an evenly trimmed lawn, but a slightly more empty area than when a large family lived here, a sweet woman with her husband and two wonderful children, meek, sweet guys, only they moved away.

the house was put up for sale again quite quickly, and bought again just as quickly, only you didn’t have time to see by who exactly, and didn’t even hear any discussions, but today was a great chance, especially considering that he turned to your cafe for the delivery of delicious baked goods in the morning, it means the person is not just good, but also open to meeting people, and besides, the house is big, probably another big family buyed it.

and you quickly realized that you were mistaken when you left the bike at a small fence, carefully walking inside and climbing the threshold, before knocking a couple of times, for a while you are met with silence, you don’t hear much outside the door, but very soon quite heavy steps are heard and you intuitively straighten up, holding a bag of pastries in one hand, and in the other a stand with two large cups of coffee, slightly moving away from the front door when its handle is lowered and it opens slightly inward, to the side.

— «good morning! thank you for your order and welcome to our neighbor.. hood..» your babble comes out before john can fully open the door, and to be honest it hits his ears quite hard in the morning, but you quickly fall silent as soon as you capture the rich picture in front of you.

the olive colored robe is casually opened, exposing a muscular, but slightly soft looking chest, covered with thick, moist dark hair, which makes the sight seem even more intimate when your gaze involuntarily descends lower, where a path of even darker hair goes to the navel, following the wet drops, forming a happy trail that disappears where the robe is still tied with a satin, thin strap, hiding more intimate things, while the awkward, but somehow ringing silence drags on for too long.

john is the first to interrupt her, clearing his throat loudly, without even trying to hide his smile, which makes the corners of his lips stretch and raise his mustache, which he touches, looking into your eyes with a slight tilt of his head while he leans his body on the door frame, crossing his strong arms on his chest, the same hairs, somewhere you can see pale, years healed scars, and the muscles that intuitively tense and bulge out his wide biceps, obscuring the view of his chest and forcing your gaze to finally switch to blue, piercing eyes, warming from the inside just like the honey baritone of his voice when he speaks — «well, good morning to you too, miss?»

you finally fully come to your senses, masking your embarrassment with a friendly, bright smile — an incredibly good quality that comes to you after years of work, when you hand him a bag of pastries and his coffee, and he changes his position, stepping through the threshold barefoot a little closer to you, taking the packages carefully, before opening them slightly and sniffing the smell with curiosity, emitting a satisfied, chesty growl, saying — «smells bloody good, not surprised that everyone recommended your pastries»

you light up in response to an unexpected compliment, feeling proud of your own work, rushing to thank him heartily, as if with childish enthusiasm — «thank you, sir!», while he turns around to put the packages on the cabinet near the entrance, taking his wallet from there, hearing your respectful address and grinning under his breath, amused before adding — «john price, darling»

— «thank you, mr.price, then? nice to meet you» you say just as respectfully, tenderly, when he lets out a satisfied grumble, rummaging for a while presumably in his wallet before turning back, beckoning you with two fingers closer while he counted the bills, and you obediently walk in response to the gesture, stopping literally near him as he steals a glance at you, squinting into another warm smile that lifts his facial hair before john holds out a few comfortably rolled bills and you notice that something is wrong.

your fingers briefly touch his casually, shooting something warm and electrical through his body when you take the money, exchange a smile, but before you can leave you notice that he went too far, or rather, overpaid, and the amount is pleasantly large even for a tip, so you awkwardly, slightly meekly notice — «uhm.. you overpaid, mr.price», receiving only a short laugh in response.

john is clearly amused by your misunderstanding, your naive reaction to what he did more than on purpose, causing the wrinkles around his eyes appear endlessly from his smiles, and the corners of his lips to stretch the skin, hiding behind a grayish mustache, when the blue gaze catches yours, slightly confused, and his voice, almost a gentle purr, calms you down by half a beat — «a tip for you, darling»

you gasp, lips parting in an «o» shape as you giggle awkwardly, adding sheepishly — «o-oh! it's just.. the biggest tip i seen, so i thought.. thank you» before getting ready to leave, after all, the working day is just beginning, and there are a lot of orders ahead, despite the fact that you wouldn’t mind talking longer, take a longer look on him, even?

he just waves his hand slightly, brushing the situation off again from the pure amusement, before adding unexpectedly, so much so that the blush on your cheeks cannot be calmed down and it grows over your ears and neck, not avoiding his gaze, but he pretends not to notice, keeping silent about the amount of scarlet paint on your face, burning, exactly like the compliment he said so simply, even as if flirting — «that's for your pretty eyes)»

and you don’t have time to utter a word or an embarrassed squeak before he nods and, with a fleeting wink, goes back into the house, disappearing behind the threshold and the closing wooden door, closing it with a slight click that pulls you out of embarrassment, letting you sigh raggedly and absolutely discouraged, before rubbing your cheeks with the palms, as if trying to disperse the color, and finally unsticking yourself from the place, walking back to your bike, so far that there is only one thought in your head, an immodest desire — to see his playful smile, meet him again, and maybe… invite him for tea?

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

TW: NSFW, dubcon if you squint

You are laying in bed, not sleeping, feeling sorry for yourself when your phone rings on your bedside table. You don’t recognize the number, so you answer with a cautious, “Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You pause a long beat, and not because you don’t recognize the voice on the other end. “How the ever-loving fuck did you get this number?”

It’s Officer Tom Ludlow, of course. Just what you need, on this night from Hell.

“I’m a detective, remember?” You can just hear the self-satisfied smirk, and he’s lucky he’s not standing in front of you, because tonight you just might have slapped him.

You use your moderately adequate brain for some deductive reasoning of your own, and realize, “You took my number from Julian’s phone. After you assaulted him.”

On the other end he lets out a long whistle. “Baby, that’s such a strong word.”

“Do not call me baby.”

“Alright. Sweetheart.”

“God, you are such a fucking caveman.”

“Thank you.”

You sigh, too fucking tired for this shit. Your heart feels like a chewed up piece of gum, and your lady parts are pulsing angrily at you for ruining their evening earlier.

They like the sound of Tom’s deep voice in your ear, and that is so not good.

“You okay?”

The question actually takes you aback, because the smarmy shit-eating tone is gone, and he sounds…serious?

“I guess. Why?”

“That doesn’t sound okay.”

“Why do you think it’s any of your goddamned business?”

“I told you. If Dr. Bitch hurts you, it is my business.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” you grumble. In fact, he didn’t really do much of anything to you. Now that more time has passed, the more annoyed you are about that.

Fuck if Detective Ludlow doesn’t seem to hear that in your voice too. “Ohhhh. Sounds like the Good Doctor didn’t hit anything?” 

“Oh my god. I hate you. Do you know that?”

He gives a low chuckle that absolutely goes straight to your deprived pussy, and you squirm a little in bed, so grateful he can’t see you.

“You wish you hated me.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t hang up, pretty girl. Tell me what you’re wearing.” His voice dips low, and smooth as velvet.

Every hair on your body lifts in response to this, your nipples pebbling into painful points. Bastard.

“A parka.”

“Pshh. You sleep in a parka? Come on, baby.” How effective that soft, coaxing tone is at dissolving your inhibitions is alarming. You can almost see yourself, as though standing at the edge of a great abyss. If you jump…there will be no going back. 

“Fine. I’ll use my own imagination. I think you’re wearing…a cute little lacy negligee that just floats on your luscious curves…”

Well, you guess you’re getting a picture of what he likes.

“Jesus Christ. I’m wearing a tank top, you pervert,” you grouse, trying to shatter his fantasy. Nevermind the fact that you are now soaking wet, again.

“Nice. No panties?”

“I am wearing panties.”

“You aren’t going to need ‘em. Do you know what I’d do to you, after dinner, my beautiful nurse?”

“Gee, I bet you’re going to fucking tell me.”

“Oh come on. We’re having fun.”

“You are having fun.”

“But you’re still listening.”

Well, he has you there, the smug sonofabitch.

“Maybe.”

He chuckles at the other end of the line, a low sound that makes you clench with need.

“You’ve got to answer a question for me first.”

“What?”

“You’ve got to dip into that sweet little pussy for me, and tell me how wet you are on the scale from one to ten.” 

You should rip him a new one for this. Or just hang up. Why can’t you just hit the button and end this nonsense? But then…you’d be alone. Your real-time reaction is less dignified, but maybe more honest. 

You laugh.

It starts as a giggle, then crescendos into an all out guffaw. “Tom…you are a nut.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, and goddamn if you don’t actually start to feel better. “Oh come on baby, don’t hold out on me. I’ve got a solid ten inches in my hand for you here.”

This makes you laugh even harder. “Ten inches?!”

“Ok. Maybe nine and a half.” 

You giggle, and you can’t stop. “I don’t know if I can handle all that, Officer Ludlow.”

You don’t know how his voice lowers even more, as he says, “Oh, I know you can take it. Don’t worry, I’ll ease it in nice and slow.”

Suddenly the bubbles of laughter in your gut go flat, replaced with an aching heat that sears your insides, your clit throbbing in response to his dirty mouth. It’s possible a kittenish little sound squeaks from the back of your throat.

You really don’t know where you get the courage to ask softly, “Yeah? Then what?”

“Then I would kiss all over those pretty, soft titties. I want those perfect nips in my mouth.”

You know you make a sound then, and he surely hears it. “Will you check them for me? Lick your fingers and give them a pinch.”

“You are ridiculous.” It comes out small, and breathy, and it doesn’t really sound like an insult at all. So what, if you do as he tells you? And so fucking what, if imaging it’s his hands on you makes you feverish with desire, a spear of longing throbbing in your cunt.

He doesn’t answer you right away, which means he’s busy with something else. Maybe Tom is just as pent up as you are from all this edging the two of you have been putting each other through. 

“Are you.. are you really?” You ask, hating how your voice exposes the fact that you’re not only pinching your nipples, but borderline feeling yourself up at the sound of his hiking breath. 

“Yeah, honey, I am.”

“Oh,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can think of. Your cunt is screaming below about how she wants to talk to Tom Ludlow because you’re doing a shit job at it. 

“Ah, fuck. Are you doing what I told you?” 

“No.”

“Good. Lick your fingers again, circle those pretty nipples for me. Close your eyes and imagine it’s my tongue. Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits so bad.” 

He doesn’t have to know that you’re following orders. That you’re grinding on the bunched blanket between your legs while you imagine his big, rude hands playing with your tits instead of your own.

“You listening to me, beautiful girl?”

“Yeah. Don’t get a big head about it.” 

“Good job. And too late.” 

“I do hate you, you know. I’m serious.” It has no real venom; in fact, it sounds more like a term of endearment at this point. 

He laughs. “C’mon, tell me how soaked she is.”

She’s flooded, is the answer. She’s dampening the pressed comforter, she’s throbbing and screaming and crying and pulsing to the tempo of his black coffee voice. 

You’re not much for vocals when you get off. You have neighbors that already have to hear about your dreams, and the act itself seems like more business than pleasure sometimes. When you were younger, you shared a room with your two sisters, so you learned to be quiet and discreet about rubbing your pussy. That all flies out the window when you sink two fingers into your sopping cunt at Tom’s direction. 

“10,” you hiss, straining to hit your gspot. Maybe you really do need to invest in one of those toys Sheila is always elbowing you about.

“Oh, poor baby.” Your walls flutter violently at his mocking tone. 

“I thought you were going to tell me what you would do to me after dinner?” Maybe you’re desperate, or just stupid. It doesn’t really matter when all you want is to orgasm on Tom’s voice.

“Thought I was? Didn’t I tell you about how I’m gonna dip into that sweet wet pussy, and play with your little clit with my thumb while I fuck you with this big cock? How do you like it, honey? Slow and deep? Fast and hard?”

You make a strangled little sound–because your fingers are just not enough, and it hurts. It hurts that he’s not here with you, filling you up, holding you down with those calloused hands and that filthy, insatiable, mouth.

“What was that?” 

His voice is strained, and you think you’re not the only one in pain here.

“Slow,” you answer. “At first.” Why exactly are you handing him this ammunition? How stupid, how dangerous, to offer up the keys to your undoing? You know he will only use this information against you.

“Mmm.” His breathing is labored, and the thought of him with his cock out, stroking himself to this dirty talk is almost too much to stand. Julian had you trussed and at his mercy right in front of him, but couldn’t keep it up. All Tom Ludlow needs is the sound of your voice. After the night you’ve had, that alone is nearly enough to make you cum.

“But then I like it deep,” you pant. “You think you got what it takes?”

“Baby, I’ve got everything you need.”

You are trying to be as quiet as you can, while you abuse your clit with your two middle fingers, practically holding your breath, getting high on the oxygen deprivation. You’re too quiet, you suppose.

“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Gotta let me hear it when you cum for me.”

“Or what?” you grouse. “Maybe I’m just…mixing pancake batter.” 

His laughter is strained, and you just know he’s close. “Or you’ll regret it, sweet girl. When I finally get these hands on you? Mmm I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you cum without mercy.” 

Again, you can’t help but compare the versions of punishment to the men in your life. Julian wants to hurt you. Tom just wants to make you cum.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah? You there, baby?”

You try to just breathe through your nose, to not give him the satisfaction–but you fail spectacularly.

“Y/n?” He calls, singing your name and making it sound so pretty and good and special. 

“Y-yeah?”

“You coming with me? I’m waiting for you.”

You’re right there, dangling over that sweet, slippery precipice that you can usually ease yourself over carefully. Tom gives you a little shove, and you’re plummeting. 

“That’s my girl.” He doesn’t sound much better off than you while you sob from the unexpected, haywire orgasm. 

It takes a long minute for you to come back to earth, come back to breathless Tom who isn’t saying anything for once in his life. 

That pleasant, floaty post coital bliss gets stained with shame when the clarity of who you just mutually masturbated with hits you. 

He talks first, what a surprise. “Do you feel better?”

“No.” But then, “a little bit.”

“At least one of us does.” You hear him shuffling around on the other end, maybe opening a fridge. It makes you smile to think of him jerking off at his kitchen table. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Why in God’s name are you still entertaining this conversation? You both got what you wanted, and if you stay here too long listening to his voice you’re going to be right back where you started—ready for round two. 

“I won’t feel better until you’re mine.” He sounds humorless, which worries you in itself even without the possessive words added. “C’mon, sweet nurse, aren’t you supposed to help me feel better?”  

“I don’t belong to anyone, Tom. I never will.”

“Oh? Bullshit.” 

“I’m hanging up.” 

Almost as if he knows you’re full of it, or maybe he just doesn’t care about talking into an empty phone line, he continues. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted a man to take care of you? Protect you, defend you, fuck anyone up who even thinks to raise a hand or word against you?”

Honestly? That’s all you’ve ever wanted, although you’ll take that admittance to your grave. After a lifetime of taking care of other people, having someone to do that for you in return sounds like a castle in the sky. But, the thing about castles in skies? They’re imaginary. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess, you’d do all that and more?” Maybe the venomous sarcasm is a little too mean. 

He sighs as if you’re the one assaulting his date, stealing his number, and then calling to harass and annoy him. “Okay, tough girl. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“No you won’t.” 

“Mm. Night, beautiful.” 

You wait for him to hang up. He doesn’t. You don’t, either. You feel his grin blossoming through the white noise of the line, listen to him rustle about, hear bottles clinking, water running, fabric swishing. Your eyes get heavy to the sounds of his nightly routine, lashes threatening to touch cheek. 

His voice is void of its usual gruff when it permeates the pleasant, strange, foggy land between awake and unconscious. “Baby?”

“Mm, yeah?” You try to make your mouth move properly, but the words come jumbled and slurred, weighted with exhaustion. 

“Sweet dreams.” 

[janovavalen]

✧AWKWARD CONFRONTATIONS || percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: percy jackson’s first days on camp were hell to say the least—fist day and he got bullied, but when he sneaks away to be alone he finds an interesting girl in the forest.

part one.

part two.

part three.

part four.

part five.

word count: 2402

warnings: reader is daughter of athena, sister of annabeth, horrid flirting, reader lowkey not felling percy for the first half’s of this story line.

THIS IS THE END OF THIS SERIES¡!

as percy rolled in his bead with immediate regret of waking up. he wished posiden decided he didn’t want him as a son anymore and drowned him in his bed. if that were to happen, he’d be beyond happy.

remembering the day before, what she said and how she said it. how desperate she was to leave him in the forest alone. his face growing red with embarrassment he slapped his hands over his face while aggressively throwing his body around in the bed, the blankets falling to the floor while he rolled over and groaned out loud.

just as he finished his tantrum, grover walked in with luke close behind. they had been trying to find ways to get an answer from y/n without pestering her for her feelings. grover said he’d hate to bug her about something she can’t explain or doesn’t want to, especially with them.

‘percy, why is your blanket on the floor?’ luke pointed out the obvious while his finger pointed at the dark blue blanket on the floor.

percy sat up in a rush while he looked between the blanket at them and nervously laughed with his face beat down red—‘o-oh y’know, just…pretty hot last night so i guess me sleeping didn’t want the blanket anymore.’ he told them while he stood up in a rush and picked the discarded blanket and placed it back on his bed.

‘right, uhm—so we were thinking at breakfast we talk to y/n, grover will first and i can second later today. grover talks pretty well with people so i don’t see why she won’t have a soft spot for him’ luke exposed to percy who’s heart beat in a very painful way when he thought of her or whenever her name was brought up.

‘um, right…yeah we can do that’ seeing percy’s unsettled face and body movement, grover walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder—‘percy, it’s okay. you don’t need to stress about it—‘

as grover began, percy shook his head in disagreement—‘no, no grover it is something i need to stress about, okay? she flat out rejected me and i already feel desperate when you guys say your going to talk to her…i mean what if she says she literally hates me, or what if she mentions how i tripped over a rock yesterday—a pebble!’ percy groaned once more as he placed his hands on his face.

grover and luke shared a look before smiling softly at percy—‘don’t think like that, she isn’t like that—well the pebble part yeah that could’ve knocked down some points, but hey…she won’t just reject you the way she did. i’ve seen y/n reject others and trust me she’s flat out told them she’s not interested and listed things they’ve done over time.’ luke revealed to percy who felt a sense of relief.

‘so percy, don’t think negatively about the situation, don’t worry…okay?’ luke added with a soft smile which grover gave one as well while percy thought it was a bit off on how they were both smiling at him like a kid that did something wrong and the parents said—“we’re not mad just disappointed”—giving them a small smile back he nodded his head.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌊　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

at breakfast percy sat with luke who sat across from him, his plate of breakfast with small portions of different things but a whole load of blueberries and strawberries. nibbling on small bits of each fruit, his eyes trained on grover and y/n who spoke quietly in the field.

he tried to read the body language from across the way but could only pick up how she’d straighten her back every now and again, her hand fixing her hair to place it behind her ear, her eyes would move form the table back to grover who spoke with his hands.

y/n seemed uncomfortable…and percy felt so bad for it because it was him that caused it. looking down at his plate and moving around the fruit and foods luke noticed and turned to see y/n sneak a glance at percy before turning back around.

‘come on…don’t look so beat down about it, not to excite you or anything but she just looked at you—‘

‘what?—huh!’ percy whisper shouted while he looked over at her only to see she was turned back around, he was a bit late but he knows luke couldn’t lie about something like that.

‘was it a good or a bad look?’ her questioned quickly.

‘it looked good’ he told simply with a shrug.

‘did she look like she felt bad or she was going to talk to me?’ percy asked once more. luke tried to think back on how she looked—her eyebrows frowned, her lips turned down a bit, her hands rested by her stomach as she picked at her fingers. —‘she looked like she felt bad, but also looked like she needed to talk to you’ luke told him.

‘oh my gosh, oh my gosh—what do i do if she does? i can’t just speak freely. oh my gosh, i’m going to throw up…’ percy groaned while placing his head in his hands once more.

luke laughed and wished he could’ve taken a picture but was interrupted when grover who sat down aggressively and abruptly—‘okay! okay…dude, your totally good’ grover cleared for percy who let out a dramatic sigh—‘how do you know?’ percy asked in a rush.

‘okay so, she said she was scared because she’d never actually felt something like that for someone and that when you admitted to liking her she froze up and didn’t know what to do so had to leave before she embarrassed herself, she said if she did she would’ve left camp’ grover repeated what y/n said to percy who sat close to him.

‘see what did i say? if she wanted to reject you, she would’ve’ luke smiled at percy whose face was red once more—‘okay but what do i do? like do u talk to her? or leave it alone—‘

‘she said she’ll talk to you, later today…after dinner’ grover revealed making percy’s world shatter, he was so nervous he wanted to throw up and die.

‘are you sure—‘

‘yes! percy it’s okay, it’s going to be fine just…don’t trip over a pebble again…k’ay?’ grover told him with a hand on his shoulder leaving percy to give a tight lipped smile and nod.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌊　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

percy never wished time would speed up more than right now. the whole day, percy had been sneaking glances at y/n. sometimes they’d reciprocate and sometimes he’d stare for too long where grover or luke would have to snap him out of it.

at archery practice, he stared so hard that the arrow almost shot someone’s foot who sat in the grass while they fixed their arrow, they let him know how they felt very verbally.

when they were sword practicing he would look at y/n and annabeth who practiced together on the hill, away from everyone as they always did—he almost got slashed across the face.

when dinner finally came around he purposely sat a table away down y/n, and when it came for grabbing their food, he was lucky enough to land a spot in line next to y/n—and annabeth too—but mainly y/n. she stood in front of him while he stood behind.

it gave him the time to see how tall she was, she was a little over the same hight as annabeth, but he was a bit taller—he’d hope he got the hight from his dad, if it was from his mom, he wouldn’t grow any taller for the rest of his life…a sad short old man who got rejected so hard—

‘hey percy’ a soft voice spoke. looking up to see y/n grabbing her food but her head turned a little to look at him, he stumbled across his words and looked between her e/c eyes.

‘hey, y/n…what’s up?’ he awkwardly asked with his hands holding his plate as they started to sweat.

‘nothing…grover told you didn’t he?’ she asked for clarity which percy nodded to—‘i’ll be at the lake, later…you don’t have to go or even talk to me…i understand if—‘

‘no, no, i want to, i need to—well not like that, just i'd really like to talk to you…so, yeah..’ he mentally abused himself by throwing rocks at his imaginary self in his head while he grew a bit embarrassed by tripping over his words so bad.

she softly smiled and walked away with annabeth who grinned at her.

hurrying to the table where grover and luke sat, he smiled at what just happened.

‘what just—‘

‘y/n talked to him, i heard it’ grover told luke who ‘ooed’ at percy who rolled his eyes and shoved him in the shoulder a little.

‘wait what do i—‘

‘just wing it…don’t think too much or you’ll make your head hurt, don’t overdo yourself but don't not do anything at all, you’ll be okay’ luke told him with a smile.

‘yeah and definitely don’t wear your hair like that’ grover told him with a shake of his head.

percy reached up to touch his dried out curls—‘what’s wrong with my hair?’ he asked sheepishly. luke and grover looked at each other before looking at percy who would fall victim to their male makeover.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌊　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

later that night when everyone was ready for bed and in their own cabins, percy walked out of his after being tossed around and changed several times. luke decided he’d wear a plain white shirt with jeans and grover helped him out on his curls since he had a set of his own.

his hair a little damp, but not enough to drip onto his shirt. his shoes being the same converse he always had. wiped his sweaty hands on his pants he took a deep breath and walked down and through to the lake where she said she’d be.

when he got there nobody was there, he must have beat her to it. sighing as he walked only to dock, he looked around before sitting on the edge of it, his converse touching the water slightly as he moved it with the tip of his shoe.

his arms on both sides of him as he looked down into the water. the night was quiet and dimly lit with the touches that were planted across the whole camp. with his legs moving slowly he thought of what could happen.

if anything bad came out of tonight again, he was going back home—

‘taking a late night swim?’ he heard from behind him. looking fastly with his head turned he was met with y/n who wore jean shorts and a white long sleeved shirt with black high top converse like his own. her hair was down and she wore no makeup.

she looked beautiful.

‘yup, heard the waters amazing after dark, sharks and crabs and other sea creatures come out’ he jokes while she shook her head, making her way next to him as she sat down with her hands on her lap, her fingers playing with each other.

the whole tension was quiet and very awkward between them. you could practically slice it with a butcher knife. clearing his throat while y/n looked at him, she began to speak.

‘i didn’t reject you yesterday…’ she started off quiet. he turned to her immediately and looked all over her soft glistening face that seemed to glow with the light of the fires nearby.

‘grover told me you felt like you were rejected, and was embarrassed about it all night and half of the day…i’m so sorry i made you feel like that, percy…it’s just—‘

seeing she was starting to feel bad and look uncomfortable, percy stopped her and held his hand on her hands that rested on her lap—‘no, there’s nothing to be sorry for. you don’t need to apologize for that—‘

‘but i do percy, i do. i push things away and expect them to stay away without any regard for how people might feel. i feel so bad because your an amazing person and…and i like you too.’ when she said this his hand didn’t move from hers but he found himself scooting closer as she spoke, his heart beating so fast he was afraid if they were in a cartoon he’d have that goofy heart animated while it pumped out of his body.

‘i like you to, and i was scared to admit it because i don’t want to hurt you in the future…i could never forgive myself if i did…and i just, i didn’t know what to say.’ she told him with a quiet voice, her eyes stayed on his while he shook his head and his eyebrows frowned in sympathy.

‘it’s nothing to be sorry for…and i understand how you feel. i’m just happy you told me how you felt instead of keeping it to yourself—granted i had grover talk to you and all’ he shrugged a shoulder while y/n laughed a bit her mood lifted.

the air got quiet nice more and percy mumbled—‘you look very pretty by the way…i don’t know if i said it but i just wanted to say it to you, well—you look pretty all the time to be honest i just don’t ever tell you but i wanted to now so you know’ he ranted again making y/n’s face grow warm as she smiled sweetly.

looking him in his eyes she blinked lightly before saying—‘you look pretty handsome too, i like what you’ve done with the gist it looks pretty this way’ she said, grabbing her hand from his and touching the slight wet but dried out messy curls. he blushed deeply and looked at her before smiling and looking out into the distance.

after a bit y/n and his converse touched the tip of the water, and not soon after she placed her head onto his shoulder, smiling like a idiot.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌊　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

from that week on percy made sure he had grover do his hair every day and even between the day throughout. and every day, y/n said how she loved it and sometimes would style it on her own.

[futurecorps3]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a Kaz brekker x reader fic. Where the reader has a nightmare and Kaz comforts them if you can please.

𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

Masterlist<3

Summary: Req sums it up!! Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Warnings: Mentions of drowning, death, nightmares ofc and I think that's it, lmk if I missed any Word Count: 674. tiny!! Requested: Yes

There it was. That heavy feeling in her chest. Y/N could recognize it anywhere; it was part of her routine now, and she couldn't be more grateful. Kaz's arm pressed tightly against her, guarding her even in her sleep. She smiled contently and opened her eyes after tilting her head to see her lover's hand.

Or so she thought.

A big rock tied with a rope stared back at her, beginning her descent into some large body of swampish water, as if her stare was its cue to stop resisting gravity. She tried moving her hands in a futile attempt to swim to the surface, to try and overpower the force of the rock against the water and her body, but they were also tied.

Y/N watched as the light got further and further away. She was still holding her breath but soon realized that this was the end of her. Kaz came to mind immediately. God, she'll miss him. Will she even be able to miss? Soon enough, she thought, when water filled her lungs, the mystery of existence would be answered.

She hoped whatever awaited her, whether it was a perpetual calm or a realm filled with endless meadows and a place to rest, would be nicer than the life she led before she met him. He was a lifeline. Ironic, isn't it? She probably would've laughed if she wasn't about to die.

Should she pray for a quick recovery for Kaz? It will be hard for him to get back up. They both knew almost by experience that there was no God or Saint, but like, what if, right? She didn't know any prayers, so she did not pray. Y/N really hoped he got back on track quickly, though. After all, routine was everything for him, and now she wouldn't be able to brew him a nice cup of tea every morning like she had been doing for the past five years.

"I hope he can find his cup in the drawer; it's a bit hidden so Jesper doesn't take it," she thought as she sank even further, just like the pebbles she used to throw on the beach with her sister all those years ago. Tears started streaming down her face, and she could somehow feel them, like they couldn't blend in the water that surrounded her. She was scared. She didn't want to die scared.

In all those years working with the crows, Y/N was certain her life was on the line in every single job they performed, but that didn't scare her. If she died during a heist, she'd die surrounded by the man and friends she loved; there were certainly worse fates than a fatal bullet wound. Fates like this one. She'll die cold, wet, and her body would probably never be found. That did scare her.

Then there was an impulse to move that washed over her. To do anything in her power to at least try and get out of this situation. She kept sinking, now squirming and failing to squeeze herself out of the ropes. Desperation came, and she started screaming, her lungs filling up quickly. She started coughing violently, closing her eyes and then a pang to her heart.

"Y/N, wake up!"

The girl was greeted by a pair of concerned, brown eyes that she wouldn't mind drowning in. She immediately noticed she was sweaty under her nightshirt, and her collarbones were also wet, but from the tears that ran down all the way from her eyes to there.

It was a nightmare.

As she composed herself a little, her boyfriend lit the oil lamp they kept on her nightstand and crawled back to her. "Breathe for me, Y/N. Come on," the girl heard faintly, still in a sleepy stupor. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath. Kaz took her hand and placed it over his chest, just like she did when he had trouble similar to this.

It was rare now, but the first nights they spent together were often filled with sweet nothings whispered and labored breaths in an attempt to calm Kaz's racing heart and mind. She blinked rapidly and tried wiping her eyes dry. "It's okay, breathe with me, love," he whispered, rocking both of them back and forth gently as his girlfriend tried to follow his pace.

The Bastard of the Barrel may have dreaded few things in this life, but seeing his girl suffering, at the mercy of her own mind (which also happened to conjure the most beautiful depictions of love, translated in words and acts that warmed his heart), was almost unbearable. He knew the feeling all too well, and to even think she had to go through it all as well made him sick.

So he did what he knew helped.

He stayed there for long minutes, breathing consciously for the both of them and whispering things like "You're doing so good, it's okay" or "You're fine, love. Steady breaths... there you go." Words of affirmation worked heavily on her, and Kaz was very aware, so he resorted to them immediately.

After a long while, the room stopped spinning for Y/N, and she could breathe normally again. She hugged Kaz in an exhausted manner, whispering a small "thank you" that made her sound almost frightened of breaking her newfound peace. Her eyes felt heavier than before when she first got into bed with Kaz, and she just rolled over and lay next to him, turning to face him.

He had this calming aura to him. She couldn't explain it as anything other than magical, and since both of her best friends were Grisha, she wouldn't be surprised if it was. The girl stared at her boyfriend's eyes and felt safe and warm inside; the complete opposite of whatever was happening in her head just moments ago.

"Bad dream?" he asked, stroking her hand beneath the covers. "Yes. A very bad one," Y/N feebly uttered. "Do you want to talk about it before we go back to sleep?" "You worked hard all day, and I don't feel like—" "You know I don't mind." That was true. Kaz had a horrid sleeping schedule, even when she tried to keep him in check, which meant he spent most of his nights reading or planning their next heist. Truth is, he'd stay up listening to Y/N and comforting her rather than buried in piles of blueprints and books.

"I'm drained, w-we can talk about it in the morning. When there's more light," she nodded, smiling a little bit before closing her eyes, not before grabbing her boyfriend's hand and circling it around her waist. "Wait," he grumbled, getting up and checking if her eyes were open again, the bed dipping behind him. She looked at him quizzically, resting her weight on her arms and contemplating murder if he didn't let her rest after that literal nightmare.

"What?" "Your shirt is wet, you might catch a cold if you sleep in that when you get warmer in a while," he said absentmindedly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, dodging Y/N's side of the bureau fully on purpose and grabbed one of his black sleep shirts, walking with soft steps towards the bed.

"Up," he asked, and his girlfriend's heart melted when he carefully replaced the clothing, making sure the fit was right, even when his would be inevitably longer on her shorter frame. "Better?" the Bastard of the Barrel mumbled, looking at her while folding the discarded shirt and tossing it gently over to the loveseat they had at the foot of their bed.

"Never better. T-thank you, love," Y/N smiled, getting back into her position and receiving a peck on the cheek, courtesy of the man who once broke a man's fingers one by one because he wouldn't tell him where she was, followed by a small "Always" before cuddling back.

They talked about her nightmare in the morning over coffee, and the silliness of her ever feeling anything other than safer when Kaz Brekker was around hit her. She had never known such peace before him, and he promised that no matter what, she'd never die on his watch. Y/N was counting on that.

˚ · • . ° .

Holy shit this is so short and it took so long cause I'm going through writer's block!! I'm so sorry. Hope you enjoyed nonnie<3

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[websterss]

THE LOVE THAT WAS ALL ALONG (1) — TRISTAN THORN

SUMMARY: What Tristan expected to be a normal nightly visit to your bedroom, turns into one of questions and a burning desire to find out what you're keeping from him. There's just one problem, you won't tell him what's wrong.

WARNING(S): angst, some fluff

WORD COUNT: 3,827

PAIRING: Tristan Thorn x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you like it! Feedback is appreciated and always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

Not a day passed without that of a pebble thumping against your bedroom window. All the while you tried to retain your focus back on your book. A second tap would soon follow after and you’d be forced to put your placemark within the center of the pages you failed to finish yet again for another night.

You release an annoyed huff as you go over to your windowsill and push the door of it open wide. You then look down and find the culprit responsible for disrupting your nightly reading.

His charming chagrin plastered on his face was making it difficult for you to stay angry. You can’t fight your very own smile as you shake your head at your best friend. “Most people would knock you know.” You tease.

“Where would the fun be in you opening a door?” Tristan quipped.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the response. Tristan always was the one to take extra measures, not needed at times too. “And what if I had simply decided to ignore you for the rest of the evening?” You ask. You raised a brow down at him.

“Then I would tell you that I’ve got about five more pebbles at hand and am only using a quarter of my strength.” He grinned.

You huff a laugh, knowing true and well in your gut he would do exactly that. Tristan was stubborn in the sense that he was determined to get his desired wishes no matter the cost. It was both a lovely and annoying trait of his. “You’re insufferable.” You say though your tone held no true malice, it was as if you simply stated a fact of life. “You wouldn’t dare break my window.” You pout.

It was only then that Tristan taunted you with a raise of his arm, twisting his body at his waist to ready his aim. A faint smirk slowly appeared on his face.

You gasp and quickly stick your hand out to stop him. “Okay! Okay! I yield!” You surrender, not needing to waste any energy playing out this silly game. You have had nights in the past where this very act had gone on for as long as two and a half hours. You were not looking to waste time. “Now will you get up here, you nuisance?” You ask with a soft laugh.

“No need to fuss I’m coming up to you.” Tristan breathed a laugh at your sudden withdrawal. Pride flooded within him as the same taunt worked on you once more. Last time, Tristan threatened to yell at the top of his lungs if you hadn’t let him up. Perhaps he should consider reusing it again.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he chuckled. Always so cocky, that Tristan. You watch as he starts to climb the side of your home like a spider, his movements are fluid and natural without a single falter. His hands grilled the edges to haul himself up and into your room. And suddenly your mind takes a wander to what else his hands could do. Clearing your throat you shake that thought away quickly as he easily swings inside. You take a second to look at him this time, the candles lit on your dresser allowing you to fully view his attire.

“You look nice?” You eyed him from head to toe.

Tristan looked down at himself then looked back up at you with uncertainty. “Are you asking me or telling him?” He emits a soft laugh. “Do I not look okay?”

You give a small laugh yourself, your eyes still roaming his figure up and down. “No, no. The complete opposite of not okay. Just a bit different than how you usually dress.” You state. Normally Tristan isn’t all about formalities, but he also can’t let a single piece of his untucked shirt be shown to any poor soul, not without his vest that is. This time around, he looked…presentable, and handsome with his nice dress shirt and coat, even the bowler hat he wore was a surprise to see. Though that was not a bad thing, it was quite lovely to see him less casual than normal. But the ‘why’ for such a change tonight had you questioning whether he was going somewhere, or worse yet to someone. The latter you didn’t want your thoughts to linger on much longer.

“Do you think the hat is a bit much?”

“You do look like quite the gentleman with it, I will say.” You muse, giving the brim of his hat a little flick with your finger. It was a nice hat, a fine black color, not too tall, not too short. “It's suitable for a young man. If I didn’t know any better I would assume you were off to see a Victoria?” You tease. Only when he didn’t mirror your grin or faint laughter, did your heart begin to sink. Your smile fades into a thin line.

“I am…” He says with certainty.

Your breath hitches and for an aching moment, you forget how to breathe. Your chest becomes constricting with each second of silence passing between you two. You swallow hard trying to regain your senses quickly. Your throat feels painfully dry and the words stuck in it refuse to escape. “Y-you’re going to see Victoria?” You croak. It sounded weak, and a pang of self-disappointment hit you with how pathetic you sounded. Quickly you clear your throat to try sounding more nonchalant and failing quite horribly. “Tristan, you can’t be serious? She treats you poorly!” You mock with a laugh.

“I am quite serious. I’ve told you of my feelings for her. They remain intact and I am to tell her that I love her tonight.”

“You’ve told her that about a dozen times before already! And each time she has tossed you aside like a crumpled piece of paper. She never takes you seriously.” You sigh, shaking your head. Your face twisted with sadness and frustration. It broke your heart every time to see your best friend rejected in such a horrid and cruel way. And for a woman, one who didn’t truly care about him, who was only in love with the idea of gaining another man's infatuation. You knew there was no changing his mind, his persistence didn’t allow for opinions to falter his plans. That damn determination of his. “And each time you go running back to her.” You murmur under your breath.

“She just doesn’t know it yet, but we are meant to be!” He exclaims. Reaching forward to hold you on your upper arms. “I’ll get her to see me as I am, as the man who can show her how loved she is. I’m going to prove my love and devotion to her. I’ll do a grand gesture. Something big will surely convince her.”

Your heart feels a pang at the way he speaks about her. He is so utterly convinced, so foolishly hopeful for someone who will not reciprocate his love. Part of you can’t help being envious of Victoria with how much he truly cares for her. You wish only he could see that you’re right here in front of him and that you could be the one to make him truly happy. To give him the love he wishes for Victoria to reciprocate. But he’s stubborn, much like you. “That isn’t love though, Tristan…Love shouldn’t come from only one half.” You ask. You raise a hand to touch his cheek, his big brown eyes watching you with turmoil and confusion. Perhaps he thinks you don’t understand, and maybe you don’t. Who would understand why someone would continue to pursue a woman who showed nothing but unrequited love? “Why does it only need to be you making grand gestures? What has Victoria done to show you she is just as much interested in you and your time as you are about her?”

“She doesn’t need to—“

Your head snaps up at his response. “Doesn’t need to?!” You exclaim. The bitterness in your tone surprised you as much as it startled him. “That is the entire point of any relationship! It is effort and commitment from both ends!” Your eyebrows are furrowed and you find yourself clenching your fists at your side, fighting the urge to grab his collar and shake him. You have never been so utterly annoyed, so frustrated with him. Your stupid little hopeless in love, Tristan.

“I have a plan. It will all work out, believe in me, Y/n.” He pleads.

Your shoulders sag and a heavy exhale leaves your lips. Of course, your rationalism would not get through to him. You don’t even know why you thought for a moment that it could make him realize the flaws in his logic. “I always do,” You say at last. “But it never gets easier to see you like this, Tristan.” Your tone had softened at the end. You place a hand gently on his chest, right over his heart. “I always carry your best interest at heart with me. You know this of me. I simply prefer not to see you get hurt, especially by Victoria.”

“I know you do. Where would I be if it weren’t for you and your beautiful heart?” He attempts to make light of this heartbreaking conversation.

Your lips twitch at his poor attempt to lighten the mood, yet you can’t help but be touched by the thought. You would always be there for him no matter what. “You know exactly where you’d be, right in some sort of trouble that you’d get yourself caught in, and wouldn’t be able to get yourself out of.” You tease. Your thumb gently rubs his chest against the fabric of his shirt. “I’d have preferred it, you getting into trouble, anyone else would have sufficed though, just not Victoria, anybody else but her.” You admit.

“Why do you dislike her so much?”

Your hand slowly drops from his chest as your frustration comes back. “You need to ask that? She treats you horribly, Tristan. She takes your heart for granted!” You exclaim. Your arms are crossed over your chest now. “How many times has she laughed in your face when you’ve tried to win her affection? How many times has she brushed something you’ve gifted to her as though it was meaningless?” You raise a hand, your fingers slowly raising as you continue listing how Victoria has treated him poorly. “How many other men's hands has she accepted in front of you? She is completely unaware of how truly special you are.” How special you are to me, you wanted to say.

You were taken back when he leaned forward and pecked your temple sweetly. Your heart hammering against your chest as you met his soft gaze. “Tristan…”

He grins softly at your reaction. That one of surprise and embarrassment. You’ve always been such a sweet soul and he knew he could always get you flustered when he was touchy with you. He loved the way the warmth of your hands would travel up to your cheeks, and your gaze, how it would turn away timidly, but he found it endearing. No matter what he did to surprise you it always made your heart flutter. if only he knew just how much it affected you.

“Shhh.” He murmured, his hands coming around to wrap you up in a tight hug.

He stays close to you, his nose tucked into your locks. His hand raised to rest gently on your cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing gently over your soft skin. “Have I ever told you that you are the kindest, most compassionate person I’ve ever met?” He murmurs. His breath was warm on your skin as his breath lightly brushed against your neck. “Anyone would be the luckiest person in the world to have you, I’m lucky to have you in my life.” He breathes a smile. “You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I’m lucky to have met you.”

You wondered if he could hear your heart tearing in two.

“I’m your only friend Tristan. Remember I’ll always- love you as much as I hold your best interest.” You hesitate to admit it.

Your stuttering and wavering words are caught by him, and you hate how the very sound of your voice falters. You didn’t want to come off as fragile, but no matter what you could never hold together your feelings for Tristan.

His nose is still buried deep in your locks, his large hand now cups your cheek gently. He tilts your head to meet his eyes, a small smile on his face. “You alright?” He murmurs. You despised how well he could read you. Unlike the pages of your unfinished novel, your next moves were predictable. One little change of notation in your tone and he’d be bugging you until you caved into telling him.

“Never better…” You look away from his lingering concern. You don’t miss the furrow of his brows as he palms your cheeks, then your forehead with his calloused hands.

Tristan’s worried eyes roam your face, searching for a sign of distress but is unable to find any. With a frown he continues to keep his palms on your cheeks, he didn’t release you just yet. He was sure there was something not quite right with you. But what could be troubling you? He tilts your head up again, his deep eyes locked on yours now. He knew you weren’t telling the truth yet something prevented you from doing so. Even as much as he hated to admit it, he hated it, that you were being closed off.

“You look feverish…” He mumbles.

His hands then find your arms, pulling them away from where they are folded across your chest. He gently holds your hand in his, turning it so your palm faces the ceiling. He looks over the back of your hand, then the front, then back again. He then gently holds your chin with his index finger, tilting your head so you are forced to look at him again. “You’re all flushed.” He comments, worry etched upon his brow. "Y/n are you sure you're alright?"

"Tristan I am well, honestly." You grabbed hold of his wrist and held them in place. "Please don't fuss over me, it will only add stress to your visit with Victoria. Which you should be getting along to." You gasp as you look around your room.

Tristan frowns, clearly not believing your word. He wants to tell you no, that he doesn’t want to go and see Victoria anymore, at least not till he is certain you are well. He knew you well enough that you would be stubborn too, that you wouldn’t let him win this one no matter what he did, you never did when it came to your feelings.

He huffs. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.” He says. But he listens to you anyway. “You’ll be alright until I get back, will you? You promise?”

"With my entire heart." You muse then remember what you were in search of. "Oh yes, here." You walk over to the vase on your nightstand and remove the bouquet from where they sat all pretty. "You'll need these." You smile as if you hadn't just taken out your own flowers for his benefit.

Tristan raises a brow once you pull out the bouquet, tilting his head to the side. He recognized those as the flowers you had been arranging just last week. He raises his other hand up, placing it gently on top of yours. “Y/n, why would you give me your flowers? No, you went on a rant about how long it took you to find them. No.” He protests, his brown eyes wide with bewilderment. He tried to take the bouquet from your grasp, to put them back, but you held them tight, not allowing him to snatch them from you.

Tristan is taken back momentarily by your actions. You seemed to be determined for him to leave, but he couldn’t help but be grateful for your thoughtfulness. You were truly an angel sent to him and yet he could see it. He felt guilt for that as well.

Taking the bundle of flowers from your hand, he couldn’t help but admire them while you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. The flowers were gorgeous, and the petals were a mixture of white and a soft yellow. Daisy's. He took a quick sniff of them, the sweet scent of their fragrance filling his senses.

"They'll grow back…" You mutter as you fidget with a loose thread on your blanket.

Tristan looks up upon hearing your mutter, a hint of sadness in your voice. He watched you as you continued to tug at the loose threads on your bed uncoiling it from its knitted form. He wasn’t certain what had gotten into you, you weren’t acting like yourself. “Spring won't come for another two months, Y/n. You waited for them to be in bloom.” He says softly. “You put in a lot of time and hard work into the arrangement, it doesn't feel right. I don't want you to give them up for me." Tristan glances down at the bundle in his hand. "I can always get Victoria another."

"Right…yes of course." You huff with a faint smile tugged on your lips.

Tristan's eyes softened at your smile, no matter how much he wished for it, it didn’t reach your eyes. Something was off about you, yet you were keeping silent about it. He took a hesitant step forward, almost as if he were afraid to even touch you now. His eyes remained locked onto your form on the bed, his expression tight and thoughtful. “You’re acting strange.” He murmurs.

"I've just been more tired than usual, Tristan. Nothing to worry your pretty head about." You try to make light of the tension.

Tristan is not having it. He would not brush off your strange behavior. Not when his gut was telling him something was wrong. You were not being honest with him and he knew it. His jaw clenches at your attempt to make light of his worries.

He moves over to kneel in front of you. He gently places the flowers down beside you on the bed before taking your hands into his own. His fingers gently rub over the back of your hands, his touch is tender and soft, just like he is. His eyes remained locked on yours, the worry in his gaze is evident.

"Tristan-"

Tristan softly shushes you, his fingers still gently caressing and massaging your skin. You’ve always known him as a stubborn and determined soul and you knew it as he began to cut you off. He wouldn’t let this go, he refused to believe you were ‘just tired’. Something was troubling you and he was not going to let it slide. “You’re not just tired, Y/n. You expect me to believe that?” He says softly, his eyes searching your face. "Something has upset you and I intend to get to the bottom of it until I know."

"Well, you can't, not right now at least, you have a Victoria to win over."

Tristan’s head shakes. He wanted to laugh at your stubbornness but he knew that would be a terrible move. You were both equally hard-headed that was for sure. He sighs, you were doing your damndest to avoid talking about what was bothering you. His gaze softened, and his hold on your hands tightened ever so slightly.

“Y/n. Please.” He implores. “Just talk to me. You’re upset about something. Tell me what is bothering you."

"Tomorrow."

Tristan's shoulders slumped, it was clear he was defeated. But only for now. He knows you weren’t one to back down and knew there was no use in trying to get it out of you now. However, that wouldn’t stop him from trying again tomorrow.

He looks down at where his hands are holding yours. “Promise me that tomorrow, you’ll tell me. No more excuses or brushing it aside. I want to know what’s bothering you as soon as the day breaks even.” He quietly requests for the simple favor.

"I promise…Now- leave or you're opportunity of reaching a lifetime of happiness will surely close." You muster a laugh and begin shoving him off your bed towards the open window.

Tristan stands to his feet once you push him away from the bed. He doesn’t miss the way you’re trying to shove him out the window and away from you. He frowns at your persistence, he hates the idea of leaving you here, upset about something you won't tell him, yet he can’t fight your insistence to leave.

“Fine, fine.” He mutters. He begins to climb out of the window, turning his head once more to glance back at you. His smile reached the corners of his eyes. “Tomorrow. I'll find you.”

You go to grab one of your pillows, aiming it ready to throw it at his face. Your throw a failed miscalculation as it lands before his feet. Tristan does his best to maintain his chuckle. "That…is very upsetting. It is nowhere near my head let alone near myself."

"Out!"

Tristan rolls his eyes at your command. “Yes, yes.” He mutters, and with slight reluctance, he turns to finish his descent out of your window. He glances up for a moment, locking eyes with you, the soft smile is still on his face. "You better rest up. You won't get rid of me so easily tomorrow. I'll be even more of a nuisance. Keep the flowers, I'll find more." He teases with a crooked grin, then is out of your view.

"Oh, joy..." You finally let your shoulders fall as you slump back against your pillows, the muscle ache and tiredness you felt throughout your body becoming more prominent. You forgot how easily you forgot about your state, especially when Tristan was able to distract you from the pain.

Tristan’s concern only grows as he takes notice of the way you blow out the candles almost immediately as he hits the ground. His brows furrow at your hurried state to have him leave, to go to Victoria, and to dismiss any chance he had to talk with you through what you are currently struggling with. It was eating him alive and it was making him second-guess treading down the streets to Victoria's house. He grips his hat, sparing your window one last glance before placing it on top of his head. Pocketing his hands for the walk away from your bedroom window and towards the girl he loves. Yet he can't help but let the nagging feeling of guilt eat at him as he puts one foot in front of the other.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 14: Knife Play with Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader Word Count: 997 Warnings: Knife Play, Claw kink (Is that a thing? I'm making it a thing if not), P in V sex, Pet names, Dirty talk, Unspecified use of protection (Wrap it before you tap it).

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

This night was like so many before and after.

It was rare for you and Logan not to fuck each other to sleep, especially after he’s returned from a mission.

But this one. This one was different.

Maybe it was the fact that you were in your feral phase. Maybe it was how he came back all dirty and sweaty, five kinds of keyed up and looking for an outlet. Maybe it was both.

It was most likely both.

Not like it mattered, seeing as the man had you on your belly with your ass in the air the moment he walked in the door, where you were fresh out of the shower, still only in a towel, and debating getting yourself off since you didn’t think he would be home that night.

Neither of you had a desire or need to wait to get down to the fun part, you’d been walking the line of damp and proper wet all day, and he was hard as steel in the confines on his uniform pants.

So, there you are. Ass in the air while Logan pounds you into the mattress, hands fisted in the sheets as his growls vibrate against your neck.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, and the push and pull of his is only stoking it into an inferno.

His skin is slick against your back, the hair on his chest is a slight tickle that makes your skin tingle.

With his hands gripping the sheet right next to your face it would have been impossible to miss the way the very tips of his claws peeked out from between his knuckles, a slight gleam in the low light.

You’d thought plenty about those claws, how Logan uses them, how strong they are, how sharp they are.

What it would be like if he held them to your throat while he ravages you.

His rhythm faltered for only a second when your much smaller hand wrapped around his, thumb first brushing lightly against the very edge of the skin where the metal protrudes, unsure what it is you’re doing but certainly not against it.

You wonder how many little nerves there are in those spots, he never reacts with pain to his claws but maybe he’s just used to it? A question for later.

Right now, he’s turning his hand to hold yours, an almost hesitation to stop you in the action. “That’s a dangerous game, Baby…” He rumbled in your ear, voice like gravel and pebbles.

“I thought you knew…” You started but are cut off by a whimper as he circled his hips against yours, grinding his shaft up against your G-spot. “I like dangerous.” You managed as your eyes rolled closed, pressing back against him.

He let out a low growl, at your words or at your actions you’re not sure, but his claws are inching out just a bit more, and it makes you clench around him, earning you another growl and a little more glinting silver.

“Fuck, Angel…Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He said as the slow metallic slice of his claws unsheathing fully met your ears.

At their full length they seemed to glow, their sharp tips twinkling with every shift of his hands.

Freeing your hand from under his grip you returned it to where you’d been caressing the base of the blades, feeling him shudder against you at the sensation.

You made a mental note of that as you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and tugged his hand closer.

“That how you want it, Sweetheart?” He said, sounding a little smug. “I can do that.” He finished before he was pulling up onto your knees, chest to back, and wrapping his hand around your throat, bringing his claws less than an inch from your face.

Your pulse jumped as adrenaline leaked into your veins, the natural reaction one would have to having three one-foot-long indestructible razors so close.

But rather than be a fearful turn off, it just made you all the wetter as he continued to press into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly and his tip kissing your cervix on every thrust.

Logan let out a low rumbling chuckle as you clenched around him. “I knew there was a reason I loved you…” He said teasingly before unsheathing the claws of his other hand, trailing them so lightly along your belly that you couldn’t feel them but for the way the air moved around them, a slight metallic chill that made goose bumps bloom.

Your body melted into his, giving into the absolute control he had over both your bodies and basking in the absolute trust you shared.

It was addictive.

With care he continued to wrack your body with pleasure, filling you over and over till you were begging him to let you cum, and when he deemed that you’d had enough for this round, he lowered you back to the bed, and with one hand pressed to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his thrusts turned punishing.

Skin slapping skin and the wet sounds mixed with the animalistic sounds coming from both of your mouths, your desperate cries and his low growls, as the knots in both your bellies got tighter and tighter.

His grip had returned to the sheets, but his claws remained out, and you watched as his grip tightened on the fabric as he edged closer and closer, causing the blades to tear into both the sheets and the mattress.

When the pressure released and your orgasm washed over you, yanking him right along with you. Both of you careening into ecstasy in a show of shaking bodies, rolling hips, tearing fabric, and names falling from lips in half-finished breaths.

As you lay there, attempting to catch your breaths, Logan let out another chuckle. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet…”

His words earned a breathy laugh of your own. “Good…”

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Five - Cold Eggs

W/C: 6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of drinking

Some early morning honesty on the rocks. Eddie is fucked. In every sense other than literal.

A/N: I'm getting giddy over these two please tell me yall feel the same

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The Munson bachelor pad wasn’t as boyish and messy as you initially thought.  You were sober enough to make that observation.  It was cozy, much like your own home and was around the same size.  The kitchen was probably the messiest part of it however you didn’t get a peek at the bedroom which you assumed could also be very disheveled.  There were cereal boxes left open on the counter, Cocoa Pebbles being the one that caught your eye along with a neglected box of Rice Krispies that laid on its side.   

A few too many pots and pans cluttered the stove top and some empty cans of soup and Spaghettios were left to collect dust near the sink.  His refrigerator held a collection of magnets, some being letters from the alphabet, although quite a few were missing, and others were ads from a pizza place and a few fruits and vegetables with cartoony faces.  Among the mess on the counters, you also noted a few empty liters of soda and some crushed beer cans.  Budweiser to be specific.

Other than that, the living room you’d been sitting in was tidy.  There was a clearly used checkered blanket bunched up on the corner of the couch you’d been occupying for the past several minutes and a few car catalogs littering the coffee table along with a copy of Lord of the Rings, bookmarked with a coupon for ground beef clipped from the local ads.  Next to that, an ash tray nearly overflowed.  

His wallpaper wasn’t as ugly as yours, which you envied.  It was maroon with even darker stripes alternating, creating a dark but homey atmosphere.  The wall sconces on the other hand, we’re tacky.  They looked more medieval than anything, almost like torches.  The light wood floors contrasted with the walls and at your feet was a frayed rug that looked like it had seen better days.  Not dirty, just tattered.

In the corner sat an acoustic guitar painted with the words ‘this machine slays dragons’ and next to it was an electric guitar, red with cracks of black.  You’d never seen one like it before and it seemed to be well loved from what you’d heard every day, the endless guitar solos bleeding into your eardrums daily.  At least he was getting his money's worth out of it.

You continued eyeing your surroundings, taking in the habitat that was Eddie Munson’s home when your gaze lands on a particular object that piqued your interest.  It sat atop a shelf near the door, a lonely Garfield mug.

Before you could further examine the mug or even think of reasons as to why it was displayed, if it was even displayed, or perhaps it was abandoned in a hurry out the door, Eddie emerges from the bathroom just off the living room.  His curls are now wet ringlets toward the bottom, and instead of wearing your puke, he wears a red sweatshirt that reads ‘Indianapolis, Indiana’ on the front along with some baggy black sweats.  Despite his comfy clothes, his face is still decorated with that grouchy frown you’d grown used to.  Did this man ever relax his face?  His eyebrows were still pinched together either in thought or in irritation.

“I-um, I’ll wash the shirt and um the–the boots.”  You stutter, rapidly standing from your perch at the edge of his couch.

Though still a little tipsy, more coherent thoughts flooded your mind.  Guilt plagued you as you thought about the blanket of barf that coated his shirt and boots about a half hour earlier, abandoned on the front porch.  You were smart enough to avert your gaze when he lifted his shirt off of his torso just to let it wrinkle up on the wood planks to be dealt with later.  It wasn’t your fault that you’d caught a glimpse of the tattoos that adorned his body, some kind of dragon if you remember correctly, wound from his waist up to his ribs.  The others you didn’t have long enough to distinguish their imagery, though there were several along with what appeared to be some scarring of some kind.  You couldn’t be sure, the darkness from the night not allowing you a clear picture along with your hazy mental state.

“Don’t worry about it.”  He dismisses while you bashfully sit back down on the edge of the couch.

It was hard to grasp whether he was pissed at you or just at life in general.  You would take full responsibility for the vomit but everything before that was on him.  Yelling at you over a pile of broken plates seemed far more degrading based on his tone, the way he reprimanded you and painted you as this stupid girl, unable to stand your ground.  Maybe it was better that he fired you, you wouldn’t be subject to his obnoxious mood swings where he seemed to take everything out on you when shit hit the fan.  

You continued watching Eddie move about his surroundings, taking in how he interacted with his day to day environment.  What did he look like fully relaxed?  Lounging around, playing his guitar without a care in the world.  It was difficult to picture; the image of a moody man with a tensed facial expression the only one you could seem to conjure up every time rather than the vision of him with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, enjoying coffee out of that stupid Garfield mug.  You wonder if takes his coffee with cream and sugar.  Maybe just cream?  Or just sugar?  Maybe he drinks it black, that would be the most sensible option if you were going by his grouchy nature.

“Gonna find my keys, then we’ll go back to the bar to get yours.”  Eddie decides, shuffling through some items on the kitchen counter.  

The irony.

Agreeing with a hum, you allow yourself to lean further into the couch while trailing your finger over the faded plaid pattern, lines of beige crossing over white that temporarily held your focus.  The clinking of empty beer cans against the linoleum counter can be heard, and then footsteps into the bedroom just off the living room to your left.  Two idiots with misplaced keys under the same roof.

It feels as if the couch begins to mold around you, welcoming you into its springy cushions that otherwise wouldn’t be very comfortable but considering the night you had and the state you were in, you felt like you were on a cloud.  Your thoughts drift back to curious visions of Eddie.  What did his hair look like first thing in the morning?  Was it as wild as you imagined?  Curls sticking up every which way, frizzy and matted?  Or was it somehow still perfectly messy?  Boyishly messy.  

Did he take those chunky rings off every night, leaving them on his nightstand until the morning?  How many more tattoos did he have?  What movies did he watch?  What did he do for fun?  You suppose plucking at his guitars was a main contender with the way it would constantly invade your ears.  Obviously he read, your eyes catching that copy of Lord of the Rings on the coffee table again.  Maybe he worked on cars too, based on those car part catalogs.  

The image of him working under the hood of a car, all sweaty in some kind of tank top occupied your brain, his usually tense face hard at work with grease smeared along his cheek.  And his hands.  His hands would be coated in oil and he’d pull a rag out from his back pocket to wipe them off.  Then he’d smile and reveal those deep dimples framing his face so perfectly.  And then you would–

“Uh, Bambi?”

Eddie’s voice doesn’t do much other than cause you to stir in your sleep, snuggling a pillow while curling into yourself.  You were nearly drooling, completely content.  He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than necessary before realizing what a creep he was being.  Was he supposed to wake you?  If he was, he felt wrong doing so with how peaceful you looked.  He rolled his eyes but truthfully, he didn’t mind having a guest for the night.  

Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep for once.

–

Tossing around as the springs beneath you squeak, your mouth feels like it had previously been filled with sand.  Not an ounce of saliva coated your tongue, you were severely dehydrated.  You flung the knitted blanket that had rested on top of you off–when did that get there?  You don’t remember grabbing a blanket before drifting off into a deep slumber.  

This wasn’t even your house.

Collecting your thoughts, you recall that you had been sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch before apparently falling asleep.  It was still dark outside, signifying that it had to be early in the morning which meant you’d only slept for maybe two or so hours.  A lamp set atop a beat up side table in the corner was the only thing illuminating the room now.  Sitting up and stretching, your bones ached from the way they were piled on top of each other in the position you had been sleeping in.  Your right arm had pins and needles running up and down it from being cut off from circulation for so long.  

The groan that threatened to escape you was held in your throat as you scooted forward, only to find a full glass of water right there on the coffee table.  This was beyond embarrassing, this was humiliating.  If you could scurry out the door and across the yard back to your place you would, but you were in this predicament due to your own negligence.  

With no other options available to you, you gulp down the lukewarm water, just grateful that your tongue was no longer dryer than the Sahara desert.  But it still wasn’t enough.  Your thirst seemed unquenchable, at this rate you’d need approximately five more glasses.  So you stood yourself up, legs shaky and stomach a tiny bit queasy, and wobbled over to the kitchen.  You’d have to pace yourself to avoid throwing up a bunch of water since your stomach was so sensitive right now.  Food was out of the question but water was a necessity.  

Twisting the sink handle with a small screech of the metal, you fill the glass with a shaky and weak arm before sipping away.  

Slowly.  You remind yourself.

It must have taken around eight minutes to finish that second glass of water, coaching yourself through it the entire time.  You grew tired of drinking it but persisted anyway.  As you reach to fill a third glass, you’re startled by a figure in the doorway to Eddie’s room, unable to make out any features in the dim lighting.  With a yelp, you manage to drop the glass in the sink, it clanking around noisily but thankfully, not breaking.  

“Shit, why are you awake?”  Eddie asks, hands raised in surrender as he emerges from the shadows.

“Why are you awake?”  You counter.

He raises a brow, clearly wide awake.  He didn’t even have that gravelly, sleepy voice.  Maybe he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all.  There was no evidence that his hair was any frizzier than before and his face didn’t have that puffiness to it when you wake up.  It’s also possible that he just looked perfect when he woke up but if you’re being honest, no one really woke up perfect.  

“I, uh, I was reading.”  He admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence trickles in, causing you to cross your arms as a means to close in on yourself, steadily backing up until you hit the counter behind you.  Eddie maintains eye contact with you as he retrieves his own cup from one of the cabinets, filling it up and chugging it down with ease.  You suddenly feel so out of place, like you were supposed to leave but there was nowhere else to go.  

“I, um, I’m sorry for…for the puke.  A-and for falling asleep.  I didn’t mean to intrude.”  You tell him honestly.

He only nods.  

“I can go…sit on my porch until you go into the bar.  And I’ll get my keys and be out of your hair.”  

A few drops of water roll down his chin as he continues drinking, the back of his hand coming up to swipe the liquid away.  He appears to be lost in thought, eyes concentrated on the counter in front of him where a few rogue Rice Krispies live.  You let your legs carry you a few feet away, your goal being the front door until he speaks up again.

“I’m not gonna be responsible if you get eaten out there.”  He grumbles.  

“Eaten?”

Eddie looks you up and down as if to say ‘are you serious?’.  To be completely honest, you hadn’t taken into account the wildlife that thrived throughout the area before you moved in.  Now you were looking more and more dumb by the minute.

“Bears?”  He offers an anxious head tilt.  “We have fucking bears here, Bambi.  You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t be wandering.”  Why were you trying to make an argument?  Out of all the things you could fight him on, why were you choosing whether or not you’d get eaten by a bear?  “I would be sitting on my porch.”

You felt like the dumbest woman on the planet and you knew you should’ve stopped talking but the words just…came out.

“Bears can reach your fucking porch, you know that, right?”  

His large eyes bored into you in disbelief, his mouth slightly hung open as he awaited your answer.

“Y-yeah.”  You gulp.

“God.”  He scoffs, turning away from you, perplexed before muttering something under his breath that you happened to also catch.  “Christ, they shoulda turned you away.”

“Who?”  You pipe up, feeling a bit daring.

For a moment, he turns to stare at you blankly.  It’s almost as if you’re the only two people awake and if either of you happened to raise your voice in the slightest, it would awaken the town.

“The assholes that sold you that house.”  He just about whines, his voice an octave higher, frustration obvious in his tone.

The refrigerator light briefly appears over the blue and green tiled floor as Eddie opens it, reaching for something before turning around toward the stove and kicking the door shut.  

“What–what do you mean?  Turn me away?  What’s that supposed to mean?”  You ask in offense.

“I mean…”  He cracks an egg into a pan, followed by another.  “They shouldn’t have sold it to someone so clueless.”  Another egg.  

The shells are discarded in the sink, further cracking into smaller pieces at the impact he’d thrown them.  

“What?  Were they just supposed to reject me until someone more ‘qualified’ came along?”  You try to catch his gaze, ducking your head as he reaches for the salt and pepper.  “And–are you seriously making eggs right now?”  

You earn a scowl from him as his pan begins to sizzle, his hand quick to grab a spatula from one of the pots on the stove to flip the eggs.  This had to have been some weird dream or manifestation.  And there they were again, those three numbers falling from his lips in a whisper as his eyes shut temporarily while his eggs simmered.

“I was already qualified before you came along!”  He raises his voice, not quite to a yell but not very quiet either.

Silence. 

Your eyes must have bulged out of your head, Eddie’s features softening by the second.  Regret settled in his eyes, your face the vision of pure horror and all because of him.  

He got impatient.

His therapist would be disappointed in him.  And so would Wayne.

“I-I just…I was going to, um…”  He starts calmly.  “I was gonna buy it.  And, and I was—”  His breathing is now shallow, his eyes wet and pleading.  “It–it was–I don’t–”

“Eddie.”  You whisper, trying to break through whatever trance he was in.

He seemed stuck in his own head, eyes darting back and forth while he struggled to find words.  The eggs were on the verge of burning which prompted you to reach over him and turn the stove off.  The spatula he previously held clung against the tile.  

“I-I–um, I was–”  

It’s as if he isn’t even in the room, totally removed as the same few syllables fell from his tongue.

“I’m–I-I–”

“Eddie, it’s okay.”  You attempt to soothe him.  “Do you wanna sit down?”  You ask, trying to catch his eyes but failing as he squeezes them shut.

Again with the counting.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All under his shaky breath.

“I-I’m fine.  ‘M fine.”  His voice cracks, eyes opening timidly.

When you go to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinches, a gasp leaving his lungs.  Forcing yourself a few steps backward in order to provide him the space he needs, you recognize a hint of fear within him.  It’s not of you, it’s something else yanking at his thoughts.  

“Sit down, let’s sit down, okay?”  You instruct, gradually lower yourself, waiting for him to follow your actions.

Nodding, he slowly slides his back down the side of the counter, falling into a position where his knees were to his chest, hands resting against the floor.  You join him, still keeping your distance but wanting him to know that despite the previous tension, you were being supportive through his episode.  Whatever it may be.

“Breathe.”  You tell him, just as he had done with you back at the bar.  “In…and out.”  You encourage him.

He follows, his breathing still labored but improving.  Continuing for a minute or so, his shoulders finally loosen up, his face relaxing.  You let him guide the situation from here, if he wanted to talk or remain mute.  Either was okay.

Moments pass, the hard kitchen floor causing you discomfort that you willingly take, not daring to shift around too much as to keep the tranquility finally falling over the two of you.  Instead, you take interest in the wood grain of the cabinets, eyes wandering around each curve like a maze, sometimes identifying shapes along the way.  A dog’s face, a ghost, and occasionally the haunting silhouette of a human.  

Sneaking a glance at Eddie, you find that his eyes are shut as he rests his head against the cabinet behind him, his hands fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, tying little knots and then undoing them just to repeat the process.  Your watch indicates that it’s 4:03 AM.  You would usually be sleeping however you can’t really offer yourself much sympathy when it seems this is the norm for Eddie.  He always had tired eyes though you’d never put much thought into it until now.  He must not be sleeping.  Which could also be a contribution to his moodiness.  

“I’m gonna lose the bar.”  Eddie speaks up from beside you, eyes still shut as he continues to fidget.  

“Hm?”  You turn your full attention to him.

There’s a pause, a moment of thinking.  You can tell as he opens his eyes and side-eyes you, not with malice but more so to collect his thoughts.  Lips pinched in between his teeth roughly, you could almost wince at the way blood surfaces from the poor abused skin.  Not too obvious, but obvious enough as you await clarification, the tiniest bit of crimson seeping out from behind his teeth only to be left to dry out on his perfectly shaped lips.  Then he breaks the silence with a heavy exhale.

“I, uh, I’m pretty close to losing it.  Can barely pay the bills on the damn place.  Been going downhill for a few months now.”  He elaborates, spinning a ring around his finger repeatedly .  “I was gonna use the rest of my savings that my grandpa left me to buy that house.  Rent it out.  I talked to a friend who’s really good with all that financial shit and he said I could get a steady income and most likely keep the bar running and profiting again.”

“Oh.”  You whisper, a huge sensation of guilt overtaking you.

“Not your fault.”  He sighs.  “Guess I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”

Now he avoids your gaze, far more interested in the cracked tile beneath him.  A curse can be made out from just under his breath while he buries his head in his hands, running them up and down his face, almost as if to relieve some of his stress but having no such luck.  His admission catches you off guard, not at all suspecting that this morning would turn into honesty hour.

“No.”  You reply quickly.  “I mean…yes.  But I-I didn’t know.  If I knew–”

“Don’t give yourself a stroke, Bambi.”  He cuts you off, turning to look at you.  “I’m not proud of how dick-ish I’ve been.  It’s nothing personal though.”  Eddie confesses, seemingly annoyed with himself.

Sincerity floods his eyes, a cry for help.  But how were you supposed to help him?  Before you can muster up some kind of response to his almost-apology, he continues.

“I-uh, I just can’t lose this bar.  I inherited it from my grandpa and he had been running it for…years.”  Behind his persistence, there’s hints of defeat.  A bitterness that you’d come to recognize in the last few weeks.  “And, uh, I didn’t know ‘im for very long but, I kinda feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“Didn’t know him for very long?”  You asked before even calculating the consequences.  You had no right to pry into his personal life.

His hands begin to move up and down his shins, a self-soothing gesture from what you can tell.  Eddie was very fidgety, and you’d only just started noticing.  

“Yeah.”  He whispers.  “I moved here like four years ago.  Some bad shit happened back home and I–”  There’s a moment of hesitation, a sudden panic lurking behind his gaze.  “I can’t go back.”

You want so badly to ask him where ‘home’ used to be but decide against it.  He had already willingly offered you more information than you would have originally been brave enough to ask for.

“Anyway, I never really knew my grandpa until I came here to live with him.  He died last year.  I’ve been trying to keep things afloat since then.”  He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand.

“I’m so sorry.  I-I didn’t know.”

Genuine sympathy drips from your voice, the kind that felt like hot honey running down a sore throat during flu season.  During the moment it feels…good.  Comforting.  In the way that only his mother ever was in the brief time they had together.  And then the sting returns.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”  The walls are rapidly raised once again and god knows when you would get to peek through the cracks again.  “We should, uh, we should get to the bar so you can get your keys.  And your car.”  He suggests, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan.

“Wait–what about your eggs?”  You mention, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage as you stand.

The eggs were long forgotten about, now all sad and cold in the pan.  Unappetizing.  One of the yolks had somehow broken among the commotion of Eddie’s panic and left a disgusting coating around the gaps, that eggy-wet-dog smell nauseating you.  They were trash in all honesty but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, quickly lifting the pan and grabbing a fork to shovel them into his mouth.

You can’t fight the urge to stare, cold eggs and runny yolks being tossed into his mouth without a second thought.  

“What?”  He glances at you in irritation.

“You could’ve at least heated them up.”  You complain, nose crinkled in revolt.

He rolls his eyes but his annoyance quickly melts away, a fraction of a playful smirk pulling at his lips, eyes gleaming with something captivating.

–

The scent of tobacco and motor oil invades your nose, the smells of Eddie’s truck, much different than the little pine tree air freshener in the car he’d driven you in last night.  The engine rumbles down the road, startling the birds as he drives by.  Some kind of guitar riff blares through the radio, his ringed fingers tapping along against the steering wheel.  Instead of his sweatshirt and sweatpants, he now wears a long sleeve covered with his leather jacket along with some ripped up blue jeans.  As far as you’re concerned, he’s way underdressed for the brisk morning air, only getting colder and colder by the day.  Though, he may run hot and the drop in temperature just doesn’t faze him.  Even so, it’d make you feel better if he at least put on a heavier coat.

Regardless, you can’t seem to control the shivers that rattle your body, your teeth nearly chattering, jaw clenched tightly.  You were mentally scolding drunk-you for forgetting your jacket at the bar and though you were on your way there now, it didn’t do you any good with the way you were practically an ice cube.  It was apparent that the heater of Eddie’s truck wasn’t very efficient as the air coming out was slightly warm but not warm enough to relieve the cold nipping at the exposed skin of your arms.  You could see your breath, only further reminding you of how cold you truly were.

Attention was the last thing you wanted as you subtly moved your hands that rested politely in your lap, up your arms to offer the tiniest bit of skin-on-skin warmth.  Any kind of relief would do.  You only hoped he wouldn’t notice as you began to move your hands back and forth as a means to create some friction, more heat.

Buy a large, fuzzy, soft coat, ASAP.  You note to yourself.

As a distraction, you begin to identify objects within the truck, a solo game of ‘I spy’ if you will.  At your feet, there’s a small crate of cassette tapes.  An impressive collection, mainly metal and rock from what you can see.  Maybe a few folksy ones behind those based on the labels, John Denver being the one that stood out to you.  Then, another car parts catalog on top of the dash.  An empty can of Dr. Pepper in the cup holder.  Or what you assume to be empty.  A definitely empty cigarette carton abandoned in the other cup holder–

“Shit, here.”  Eddie says, reaching behind into the back seat only to magically pull out a denim jacket covered in several patches and pins.  

Evidently, you weren’t playing it as cool as you thought, clearly somehow exposing that you were in fact freezing.  He showed no emotion as he urged the jacket into your reach, eyes still focused on the road.  Your hesitation only had him pushing the denim into your hand, wordlessly cautioning you that he wouldn’t have your modesty or insistence that you were fine.  Clutching the rough fabric in your hand, you pause to stare at him, as if he was going to change his mind any second.  He doesn’t.  Only keeps his eyes forward, brows furrowed in that grumpy manner.

His nose is pink again and you were willing to bet that the tips of his ears matched if they hadn’t been hidden by his wild hair.  Even his cheeks were dusted with the lightest rosy shade.  Fall looked good on him.  You couldn’t even imagine how amazing Summer would look on him.  

Quickly, you undo your seatbelt and shrug the jacket on.  It’s cold from living in the truck all night but warms you up regardless, much cozier than your bare arms out in the open.  And it smells like Eddie, a smell you can’t quite pinpoint to one specific thing.  A little bit like cigarettes, maybe a hint of cologne, spicy but not overpowering, and a whiff of rubber.  It almost smelled like a garage.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, the lake coming into view perfectly as if to put on a show.  Hues of orange painted the sky, birds chirping and squawking as they announced the arrival of a new day.  An apricot dream accompanied by peachy tones.  

–

The Bourbon was a shell of itself at 5:00 AM.  The morning was bright and early though the bar wasn’t ready to awaken just yet, not until the evening when it thrived.  Until then, it slept peacefully throughout the day, forgotten about until Happy Hour.  Ribbons of light snuck in through the blinds, illuminating the smallest sections of the tables and the floorboards.  

The lights quickly took over that magical early morning feel as Eddie emerged next to you, hands tucked into his pockets while you scanned the room.  And there they were, your keys.  Sat right on top of the bar just as you had remembered.  Your jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen.  

Bummer.

You could’ve sworn you grabbed it from the back lockers before you declared war on Eddie last night.  It wasn’t there either, your locker devoid of your belongings other than a pad of paper and a pen.  

“Have you seen my jacket?”  You ask Eddie, checking the barstools just to be safe.  Nothing.

He had slipped right back into work mode, even at the crack of dawn.  You suppose it's fair though, the information he had shared with you in the quietest hours of the morning resonating in your mind.  Work never stopped for him.  

“Hm?  No, I haven’t seen it.”  He answers, collecting the dirty rags from their designated bin behind the bar to start them up in the wash.

With a soft pout, you trace your steps in your head but can’t seem to recall where you’d left it, your brain failing you.  Maybe it would eventually pop up again, it wasn’t anything special anyway.  It just happened to be one of the heaviest jackets you owned so you would have to remember to stop by one of the shops to search for something equivalent.  Beginning to pull your arm out of the sleeve of the jacket you currently wore, Eddie’s voice stops you.

“Just–keep it ‘til you find yours.”  He says.  Like he knew.  

Were you that obvious?  Girl moves to a random town miles and miles away from home only to be unprepared for the weather conditions in which you would think she would be aware of before committing.

“No, it’s–”

You immediately shut up when you see his expression, something that says ‘for the love of god, just listen’ with glaring eyes and furrowed brows.  Instead of fighting him on it, you offer your gratitude in the form of labor.

“Um, I could stick around…and help.  If you need.”  

Your words float in the air, so delicate it makes him want to vomit; not out of disgust but out of confusion for whatever feeling was swirling around in his head, making him dizzy.  Each word was too sweet, cavity inducing sweetness that he wanted to lick up like icing.  He wasn’t used to being presented with such regard, a candied offer delivered right from your pretty lips to his ears.

“If I still have a job.”  You add.  Sugary syllables pouring from your lips unintentionally.  He may have a heart attack from the amount of sugar.

Eddie collects himself, clears his throat as if to also clear his conscience, not succeeding.  You’re so unlike everything that he knows.  He knows of friendly conversation and boyish banter, endless nights followed by endless days without sleep, he knows of his shitty attitude that comes around more often than not, but he’s never been one to know pure kindness, a certain tenderness radiating from you and seeping into him.  Sure people are kind to him, especially here.  But you’re something else.

“Yeah.  Yeah, ‘course you have a job.”  He affirms.  

The small smile you grace him with makes him want to jump off of a bridge.  Because he is such a cruel being, such a monstrous man awaiting further punishment from the universe for being much less than gentle with such a sweet-tempered, sympathetic human that may even be a gift from god himself if Eddie believed in all that.  

And then Chrissy crossed his mind.  He could not endure another loss.  Chrissy was never even his but he used to mourn what could have been had she lived.  Perhaps she was his first love.  A miserable little middle schooler pining after Hawkin’s Sweetheart all the way up until highschool.  And the moment he got close enough, she was gone, right in front of his poor traumatized eyes.  It was enough for him to swear off love for good.

For some reason he was finding himself wanting to dial back on that promise.  He had only known you for around two weeks and was going back on his own word.  It was freaking him out, making him want to yank his hair out from the roots and collapse onto the floor.  He felt like a teenage boy again, going through puberty and trying to work out all of his jumbled feelings and hormones.

You were staring at him expectantly and it was only then that he realized he had been lost in thought.  A pool of thoughts actually.  Maybe even having a revelation?  

“You can uh…”  He clears his throat, nearly hacking up a lung.  “You haven’t…you haven’t eaten, have you?”  

Internally, he’s scolding himself.  

You’re gonna get hurt before you can even get close.  People are not meant to love you, Munson.  It’s been proven time and time again.  Quit while you’re ahead.

He was too far ahead anyway.  Would he ever learn his lesson?  

People are not meant to love you.

“No.”  You answer sheepishly.  “But I-I’m fine!”  You try to say convincingly.  The reality was that your stomach was swallowing itself, the fact that your dinner had been four tequila shots was not favoring you.  

“Bambi.”  Eddie says sternly.

God she’s gorgeous.

He was fucked.

“Okay…fine.  I haven’t eaten.”  You admit.  “But I can help out a little and then–”

“C’mon.”  He demands, abandoning the bin of dirty rags to head for the kitchen.  

And on the way, he reasons with himself as you follow.

Just be friendly.  There’s nothing wrong with being friendly.  We can be friends.  Stop scaring the shit out of yourself.  She wouldn’t even like you beyond that.  No one would.  

“So, what are you feelin’?”  He asks, knocking his knuckles against the metal worktop.

“Oh, I-I don’t know.  Whatever is easiest.  You know what, I can just go get something from one of the shops, I’m sure that little pancake place is open by now.”

“You don’t trust my cooking?”  He jokes, amusement written all over his face.

To be fair, he hadn’t given you much reason to trust him since you arrived.  But somehow, layers were starting to peel back and you were getting the tiniest glimpses of his true self.  And you’d be stupid not to indulge when he had practically propped the door to his mind right open.  At least for the time being.

“Should I?”  There’s a huge grin on your face, a stupid grin that you try to conceal but can’t.  “I dunno, you kind of have me wondering if you’re gonna spit in my food or something.”  You quip.

“Ouch.”  Eddie feigns hurt by bringing a hand to his chest.  “You think I’m that scummy?”  He asks, raising his brow playfully.

“Oh, the scummiest.”  You banter back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart Bambi.”  He frowns before disappearing into the walk-in freezer, discarding his leather jacket on a hook on his way.

Truth be told he was breaking yours too, with his handsome face and his dumb smile, deep dimples you could think about for hours, and those eyes.  They told a story, a tragic story that maybe he would never care to share.  And that’s what broke your heart.  Suffering in silence.  You knew that feeling all too well.

“By the way…”  Eddie shouts from the freezer before appearing once again.  “I’m Eddie.”  He sticks his hand out toward you, two eggs held in his free hand.  

You look up at him, bewildered.  

“I never asked for your name.”  He reminds you with a shit-eating grin.

The Eddie you met weeks ago was gone as far as you were concerned.  All within a few hours, he seemed to warm up to you.

The scary dog was rolling over…for you.

~end~

Masterlist

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[umnitsa]

You should mess with Jim

Summary: You just moved and found out your neighbor is your favorite porn actor.

A/N: I can't stop thinking of this and I won't stop myself anymore. We may have an overload of pornstar!hopper fics, with different readers and, hell, this is my personal self-indulgent paradise. The Big Jim name was totally inspired by @hopsgirl (thanks, by the way! <3).

I am terrible with names, you should forgive me.

Pairing: retiredpornstar!Hopper x fem!Reader

CW: Mentions of sex and descriptions. Reader is naughty.

You huffed, looking at the kitchen. Most things were in place, and the move was finally over. It took a few days of intense concentration and take-out food, but it was finally over.

You set the coffee machine and decided to be useful and take the trash out.

The first rays of the sun were visible, and the day was just cold enough to be comfortable, even with your nipples pebbled against your tshirt. The trash bags were annoying, but there was this underlying sensation of accomplishing something that made you feel good.

You disposed of the trash bags and took a deep breath. This was the beginning of something in your life. Something good, clean, and better. Healthier.

Less computer, less video games, less porn. More sunlight. Enough feeling like a cave goblin after an earth-shattering orgasm brought by your latest toy and some dirty fanfic. Enough nights watching whole careers in porn with a hand between your legs.

You felt good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw some movement; good, neighbors! You turned, a smile on your face, to be greeted with the sexiest image you had ever seen in your life.

He was tall, immensely tall, his shoulders wide. His dirty blonde hair, thinning at the front. The strong chin, covered in overgrown facial hair, long, but just long enough for you to know it is just an unkempt mustache.

He was wearing low-hung blue pajama pants and a light robe, no shirt. No underwear.

You knew every detail of his body, down to the veins on his long, thick cock.

That was Big Jim.

One of your favorite porn actors.

How many times have you watched him manhandle women just like you, keeping them open for the camera, as he ruined them forever, with that monster he called a cock?

You stared, as he turned. He watched you there, frozen, watching him. With a chuckle, he lowered his head a bit, raising his eyebrows amusedly.

You waved, awkwardly, and he waved back. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he moved back to his house. One big hand slid down his belly, to absentmindedly caress his cock, as he slowly walked.

How many times have you imagined yourself suckling on the head, swallowing the abundant precome he pulses when he’s aroused?

You quickly went back to the house, not wanting to think of it anymore. Ok, your neighbor was Big Jim, but that didn’t mean anything. You were not going to be the creepy weird neighbor for him. You respected his work.

Oh, god, you respected his work.

You poured yourself some coffee, thinking about how you need to look less stupid the next time you see each other.

***

Jim chuckled, resting against the closed door. It had been a while since he was recognized.

He scratched his cheek, then squeezed his cock.

The kind of people who recognized him these days was always interesting. He wasn’t completely retired, he always picked something if he liked the idea, but he was prolific in his time.

And it was sweet, even when it was weird. The small thrill and the reactions when they understood from where exactly they knew him.

A shy smile from an older lady in a restaurant, a weird high-five from a middle-aged man in a convenience store, the soccer mom unashamedly slipping him her number in the supermarket.

It was always a moment of doubt followed by some thought. Until the right image surfaced, and the realization flashed in people’s eyes. It was a process, and sometimes it happened fast.

But never as fast as you.

You recognized him immediately, your eyes widening. That kind of look, startled and amazed, he only gets from connoisseurs and fans. People usually felt a bit ashamed once the realization hit, but you stood there, awkwardly aroused under the morning sun.

You looked like a little pervert who could provide a ton of fun. And the hunger, so clear in your eyes, made him half hard. He even had to give himself a little squeeze, so he could at least reach the house without tenting his pants. You could help him with his boredom.

Well, he could be a good neighbor and bake you some cookies.

[maretinelli]

WE WERE THREE ²

Edmund Pevensie X fem!reader

Summary: y/n and the Pevensie's return to Narnia, still missing their son, but something they find ends up bringing comfort to their lives. At least a little.

Words: 2.3K+

Warnings: Narnia, mention of their past, therapy, anguish, a lot of crying, but cute and comforting.

Author: English is not my first language, apologies for any errors that may occur throughout the story. And well, I couldn't wait any longer, I had to do part 2. I cried, but life goes on.

MASTERLIST

Parte 1

A year had passed. The Pevensies and Y/n had returned to England and their routine before the war.

Of course, not completely in the routine, as they still wanted to be in Narnia ruled together. But with each passing day, the bad feeling of having unconsciously abandoned a country calmed down.

Ed and Y/n talked a lot about their relationship and the son they had left behind.

Yes, there were nights when they fell asleep crying remembering Liam. The pain would probably never go away, it would be there, for life, but perhaps less painful every day.

Y/n had to attend therapy groups as soon as she returned from the teacher's house. Her family thought it was because of the war, that her mind was troubling her, but the reality is that every day she blamed herself for leaving Liam behind, and that haunted her mind.

Edmund had accompanied his girlfriend to some sessions. Because he also had that feeling of guilt.

It would be more disturbing for them - perhaps much more so for Y/n. If only she knew she was pregnant with her second child when they got back. The guilt would probably be greater and make the girl do something crazy.

But it was a good thing they didn't know that part. Maybe not knowing about the second pregnancy was a good thing. Because in the reality they lived in, she would disappear the same way.

Susan, Lucy and Y/n were on the streets of London. Lucy had informed Susan and Y/n that there was a fight at the train station, and it was probably one of the boys who was involved in it.

"Excuse me, please excuse me" Lucy said as she tried to get to the fight.

A lot of people were around the boys who were fighting, but instead of separating them, they were giving more support to the fight.

"Peter!!!" Susan screams.

Y/n quickly looks around, trying to locate her boyfriend. But it seemed like he wasn't engrossed in that.

Until someone ran past her and threw her backpack on the ground.

"EDMUND!!" Y/n screams and tries to go down a few more steps of the stairs, but people were making it impossible for her to pass. "EXCUSE ME"

But it was too late, Ed was also fighting with one of the boys, trying to defend his older brother.

Soon the station guards analyze the fight and run towards it, separating the boys from each other and making the spectators run away.

"And be mature!!!" The guard yells, letting Peter and the other boys run away.

Y/n approaches Ed, handing him the bag and shaking her head.

The five walk to the platform where their train would pass, sitting on a bench, leaving their bags on the floor.

Edmundo sat next to Y/n, looking sideways at his older brother.

"No thanks..." Ed grumbles.

Y/n looks at her boyfriend and then at her brother-in-law. That was standing.

"I was winning"

"What was it this time?" Susan, who was sitting at the other end of the bench, asks looking at her brother.

"A bump..."

"And then you hit him?" Lucy had to be sarcastic, but she was too sweet for that.

"No. After the bump they asked to apologize, but clearly they were wrong and I didn't ask. Hence the fight."

"Super mature" Y/n says rolling her eyes, while Ed had her right hand in her lap and played with her fingers. Rotating the dating ring.

"Really? Wouldn't it be easier to walk away?" Susan asks.

"They were wrong. And I'm not a child." Peter says.

“But it seems like it” Y/n grumbles, as she kicked a pebble from the ground.

"But we are children!!" Ed responds to his brother.

Peter turns to him.

"I wasn't always." He pauses. "Seriously, we're back a year. How long does he want us to wait?" Peter refers to Aslan and then sits next to Lucy.

Y/n is a little uncomfortable when they bring up the subject, but doesn't say anything, just plays with Ed's hands too.

Edmund, in turn, looks sideways at his girlfriend, ready to change the subject as soon as he sees her becoming more uncomfortable.

"You have to accept that you live here. You don't have to pretend it's different" Susan looks at Peter.

Everyone remains silent, looking at the floor or the wall on the other side of the platform.

Susan looks back and quickly turns to her brother and sister-in-law.

"Go!! Quickly!! Pretend you're talking to me"

Edmund looks sarcastically at his older sister and smiles.

"But we are talking to you"

Susan rolls her eyes and Lucy quickly gets up from the bench.

"Ouch, someone pinched me!!"

"It wasn't me" Peter says. "OH, STOP PUSHING ME" He looks at Y/n, who was sitting on his right.

"But I didn't push- MY HAND EDMUND" Y/n stands up too.

"What happened?? I didn't do anything" soon Ed gets up too, as he had felt something push against his rib.

"What is happening?" Y/n asks as the train starts to pass quickly, a strong wind hits them and the platform tiles start to fall off the walls.

"It smells like magic!!"

"Quickly, join hands" Susan informs and the five hold hands.

Until suddenly, a light hits their eyes and the train station disappears, being replaced by a beautiful beach at the end of the cave they were in.

Still holding hands with her boyfriend, Y/n puts her hands over her eyes and starts walking until she is completely out of the cave and the sun hits her and the Pevensie brothers.

Susan and Peter look at each other, Lucy, Edmund and Y/n share another look. The five of them thinking exactly the same thing.

"The last one to reach the beach is a rotten egg" Susan shouts, starting to run towards the water.

Y/n laughs happily and gently pats her boyfriend's shoulder.

"It's with you, darling" she says smiling and runs too.

Edmund smiles and runs after his girlfriend, the rest going after the three who were now running towards the water on the beach.

Arriving in the water, they start playing with each other, laughing and having fun.

Edmund grabs Y/n from behind and they both throw themselves backwards, falling into the water and laughing.

"Calm down, let the air go back into my lungs again" Y/n stands up and wipes the water off her face, making the four Pevensie brothers laugh.

"Where are we?" Edmund looked at the columns.

"Where do you think?"

"It's just...I don't remember there being ruins in Narnia" Edmund says.

Y/n quickly turns around and looks towards the hills too, it looked like the place had been abandoned for years.

Centuries if you calculate.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

The brothers and Y/n climbed the hills and reached the ruins. Y/n looked closely at the remaining pillars, Peter looked at the ground and Ed observed everything.

Lucy was looking at the horizon with Susan.

"Who lived here?"

Susan bends down and picks up a gold chess piece from the floor.

"It was us" she says.

With that, Peter, Y/n and Edmund approach the girls, who were watching the horizon a few seconds ago.

Ed and Y/n arrive at the same time, making the girl lose her balance and Ed hold her back.

"Sorry" he laughs.

"It's okay, I stepped on something" she smiles at her boyfriend and then bends down to pick up something.

When the object was in hand, she sees a small sword. It was about 30 centimeters long and had something engraved on it.

"If you stepped further to the side, you could have stuck your foot" Ed says and Y/n turns the small sword around.

The other Pevensies were curiously observing the object as well.

"Whose would it be? It's too small to be ours" Y/n says, and analyzing the small sword better.

Edmund already knew who it was, which brought a few tears to his face.

"y/n..."

"What it was?" She turns to her boyfriend and Ed takes the small sword in his hand, turning it around and showing what he had engraved.

Y/n looks and her smile disappears from her face.

On the small sword was engraved the name of Liam Pevensie.

"Liam..." She says weakly, making the others approach them and see the sword. "It was his..." Now she smiles, without showing her teeth. A smile of longing and pain.

Susan walks over and puts her hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, he loved that" she says and Y/n looks at the older girl, now smiling and wiping away her tears.

"Yes" she laughs. "When Ed was home, he made them spend the afternoon fighting" she smiles even more at the memory.

Peter, who now had the small sword in his hands, smiles and hands it to Y/n.

Lucy also had tears in her eyes. She was very attached to her nephew.

"Here, please keep it" Y/n hands the sword to her boyfriend and he smiles, putting it in the bag he had.

Ed kisses Y/n's head and hugs her.

Y/n always thought that if she ever returned to Narnia, she would feel a sense of pain, abandonment and regret. But now, seeing her son's object, she felt warm, happy and strong. She didn't know how to explain it well, but it made her feel better.

Even though he's not here, waiting for his mom.

The five of them started walking again. Now knowing that they were in Cair Paravel, they were looking for something. Something that could answer some questions they didn't even know they had.

"There are catapults" Edmund says and everyone looks at him. "Cair Paravel was not abandoned, it was attacked"

They are silent. Peter looks to the side and sees a door, soon approaching it.

Ed helps his brother open it, however, it was too dark inside for everyone to enter. Thus making Peter tear off a piece of his shirt to make a torch.

"Ed, are there any matches in your bag?"

"Look...I don't think so, but I have this. Will it work?" Edmund takes a torch out of his bag and smiles at his brother.

Peter rolls his eyes laughing.

"You could have told me before"

They laugh.

With Peter leading the way with the torch, the rest of the people followed him into the room.

Going down the stairs, the girls could see that they had their statues with a chest in front.

Y/n smiles and walks down the rest of the stairs happily, with Edmund right behind her.

"I still can't believe it!! It's all here" Peter says and then everyone walks to their trunk.

Y/n and Ed walked together, as their statues were next to each other.

"I was so tall" Lucy says, everyone looking at her.

They smiled.

"It's just that you were older" Susan says and Lucy smiles.

"Different from now, centuries later and young" Edmund says and everyone laughs at him, because of the war armor he wore. Too huge for his age.

Y/n slowly opens the trunk, and the first thing she sees are her dresses and her sword, which Santa Claus had given her.

"Look, intact!!" She smiles, raising the sword and they smile.

Y/n happy, leaves the sword on the floor and starts searching more, thus coming face to face with a box full of letters.

"Oh, what is this?" She asks and everyone approaches.

"They are letters"

"I don't remember writing any letters in the months before we left here," she says, and takes one in her hand.

She turns the paper over and reads what was written. Thus, he almost choked when he read his son's name.

"It's a letter from Liam...from Liam to us..." she says more quietly now, turning to Ed.

Edmund looks startling, then moving closer to his girlfriend and encouraging her to open it.

Susan and Lucy, who were nearby, moved further away to let Y/n and Edmund read the letter, but she started to read it out loud.

Dear Parents.

Liam is the one writing here, I'm 10 years old and it's been 3 years since you disappeared. We don't know exactly why you disappeared like that out of nowhere, but I hope you're doing well and I can see you again someday. Whether here, or in Aslan's country.

Lilia is taking very good care of me, and Lord Tummnus protects me even more than before. Lilia is starting to teach me how to write letters. This isn't my first, as I love sending letters to the kitchen maids. I keep asking for cookies. But this is the first time I write to you. I had this idea yesterday, when I went out riding, I'm going to start writing letters so that one day you can read them and follow my growth, perhaps from afar. I miss you so much, I wish I was curled up in mommy's arms and playing fight with dad. Maybe someday, I can have that feeling of home again. Cair Paravel is so colorless, the days don't go by and the paperwork is piling up. Maybe I should take the crown, but I'm still afraid, I'll ask Lilia what to do.

I think that's it for today, I love you.

Ps: if you can, read this letter first. I don't know how many more I can write. With love, affection and longing,

Liam Pevensie.

After Y/n read it out loud, they could hear solutions in the room.

Everyone, without exception, was crying. Especially Y/n and Edmund, who were hugging each other while the girl read.

"There, My Aslan" Y/n cries, folding the letter again and putting it in the box, which had hundreds more of them. "Thank you for making our boy write these letters" She wipes her tears. "I miss him" she looks at the Pevensies. Lucy, Peter and Susan. They had tears in their eyes. "Not a day goes by in London that I don't think about him and Narnia. I know it's hard for everyone, but for me and Ed it's been terrible." She puts the box under her arm. "We haven't told you, but we've started joining a support group. Every two weeks we go. We always say we're going to the ice cream shop, but we're going to figure it out. Sorry for being such a pain in the ass and annoying sometimes." , it's been very difficult for me" With that, Y/n's tears return again and she starts to cry.

Edmund hugs her tighter.

Susan looks at the other two brothers and nods to go to them. Thus, making a group hug between them.

"We understand Y/n, and we're sorry for Liam" Peter says, as soon as they break away from the hug.

"Okay..." She smiles and Ed kisses the top of her head.

She already knew that Liam was already dead, centuries had passed since they left, there was no way their boy was alive. But what was comforting was that Liam had been a good boy and had written hundreds of books letters for them to read.

There was something in Liam's heart that told him to do this. And he obeyed.

"Can we go outside so you can read the rest of the letters together" Susan says, pointing at Ed and Y/n.

"Yes, true" Lucy says and Peter agrees with the girls.

Ed and Y/n exchange a look and look at the brothers.

"I was thinking... We can all read it together" Y/n says, a little uncertain about this.

Susan, Lucy and Peter smile friendly, without showing their teeth.

"If that's what you want, we'd love to hear

our nephew's adventures" Peter says and Y/n smiles, relieving all the tension that had been trapped in her for a year.

"Of course" Ed replies smiling.

The five kings and queens from the past sit in a circle and Y/n opens the box, making Ed take out the various cards.

"It says..." he reads on the back of the letter. "For Aunt Lucy" Edmund smiles at Lucy and the girl looks up.

"Oh...can I read it?" She says and Ed nods and hands over the letter.

Lucy reads out loud, making everyone pay attention.

Liam had also written letters to his other uncles, making them read them out loud too.

"Would Aslan accept me taking these letters with me?" Y/n whispers to Ed, while Peter read his letter out loud.

"If you ask nicely, he might consider it" Edmund jokes, making Y/n smile. "I love you. I love you and our boy."

"I love you. You and our boy too"

Author: My God, I loved this. I cried, but I loved😫

[iloveavatar]

blue

(im still trying to work my way around this app bc i’m not used to writing on it at all😭😭)ALSO! i’ve finally found motivation 🫡

neteyam x fem!reader

friends(?) to enemies to lovers (i honestly have no idea this whole story is everywhere and i apologize for it being so chaotic and it being so late🫶) SLIGHT ANGST I GUESS?

neteyam has many memories that have stuck with him and have made him the na’vi he is today. however, there is one particular memory that he holds dear to him, seeing as it leads to many more with one specific girl.

he was about the age of 12…. his parents had trusted him to watch lo’ak, and his preteen self had the amazing idea to teach the child who doesn’t listen…how to catch a fish. with a sharp object. that can easily cause damage to everyone within a three foot radius. to him that didn’t scream “DISASTER” at all!

the two boys made their way down to a small stream where neteyam could see at least five fish obliviously swimming already. ‘pfft! they have no idea what’s coming to these fish…’ neteyam thought

neteyam gave lo’ak a 10 minute speech about how to hold a bow, how to aim, and how if he missed he would not hold back his laughter.

after the speech, the two got ready to shoot when neteyam saw a humongous fish that was 100% bigger than lo’aks fish. it was a shimmery blue when the light hit it just right. he took aim, breathed in, and shot the arrow.

neteyam dashed into the water ignoring his brothers cries about scaring the fish and went to find his target. he saw the fish by the side of the stream by some grass. he picked the fish up with a huge smile adorning his face. he went to turn around to brag to his younger brother about how good he is at fishing when he was hit in the back of the head with a small pebble.

he whipped his head around to see who would dare throw a pebble at neteyam the mighty fisherman.. however when he turned around he made eye contact with a small na’vi girl. she looked to be around the same age as him. she looked innocent enough since she wasn’t carrying any weapons, however the massive glare that was on her face said otherwise.

“what are you doing!?” she screeched

“…..uh fishing?” neteyam asked sheepishly as he presented his fish

“you’re fishing with my pet fish! that one right there was blue! he was the biggest of them all.”she huffed

lo’ak heard the commotion and decided to be nosy and join into the conversation. “we didn’t know these were your fish… but in reality these are eywas fish!” he declared with a smug look on his face.

the girl widened her eyes even more, which neteyam didn’t know was possible, and took slow threatening steps towards the two boys.

“eywa gave me these fish to take care of, and you two decided to shoot them as a game! you’re like babies. not knowing what to do! ughh!” she growled lowly and scrunched up her nose to show her little canine teeth.

“you two owe me a new fish. bigger than blue” she stated with her arms crossed.

“bigger than blue??” neteyam asked with his mouth agape. ‘how do i find a fish bigger than this one?’ he thought

“yes. bigger than blue. i’ll give you two eclipses’ to have it returned to this stream. if not i will make your life very, very hard.” she said with a little smirk on her face that told the two boys she was serious.

the two boys look at each other and then neteyam sighed and started to say “ok, we will bring you a fish bigger than blue. however we need to know who we’re bringing the fish to.” he declared

“my name is y/n. now who are the two knuckleheads that will be bringing me my fish.” she asked, no demanded with her arms still crossed.

“i’m lo’ak!” he quickly said as if he just wanted to make his appearance known…incase they forgot he was there..

“i’m neteyam. and don’t worry i’ll bring you your fish! you’re going to be amazing with how big it will be!” he said with a determined look

“i’ll be waiting then!” she said with a smile as she turned around to go back to wherever she came from.

neteyam and lo’ak watched her leave and then quickly ran back to tell their parents how they needed a fish. for personal reasons!

the boys returned two eclipses’ later with a giant fish, being carried by their father who was curious as to why they need one in the first place. they put the fish in the water and neteyam then called out for the girl he met.

“y/n! are you here!? we brought you your fish!!” he yelled

“woah woah, wait a second you needed a fish for some random na’vi you met?” jake quizzically asked.

“yeah! she said if we didn’t bring her a fish, she would make our lives suck!” lo’ak explained with a smile since he used the word suck in a sentence properly.

“….oook?” jake slowly responded to him. he then turned his head back towards his eldest to find him still calling for the girl, his tail flicking back and forth in anticipation.

the trio heard a stick break and saw the small na’vi girl come through the bushes. she crossed her arms and then declared “show me the fish.”

‘geez,this kid means business… no wonder the boys needed the fish asap’ jake thought with wide eyes

“this way.” neteyam said with a slight eye roll that made his brother and father chuckle at.

y/n then walked up to the other two and caught sight of his father. she gasped and froze with her mouth agape.

“y-your toruk makto! you’re here. by my stream. looking at me. “ she stuttered out trying not to scream

neteyam slowly turned around with a smirk on his stupid face. “are you about to fangirl over my father?” he smugly asked

“n-no! i’m just admiri- wait did you say father?! FATHER? as in you two are-“ she stopped when she heard laugher from neteyam who was doubling over in humor. lo’ak almost fell over into the stream from how hard he was laughing. she felt even worse as she heard the slight rumble of laughing from toruk makto.

in the precise moment..she wanted to curl up and die. like blue.

she slowly hugged herself, feeling embarrassed as her ears lowered and tears welled up in her eyes. she sniffed silently as she felt the hotness on her cheeks.

jake heard the sniffling and looked at the girl seeing the state she was in. he then gently stood up at made his way towards the girl. he kneeled down and tried to make eye-contact with her, however it was very difficult seeing as the child avoided his eyes as if he was the plague.

“hey..” he softly cooed “it’s ok! it’s nice to be appreciated by younger na’vi! i’ll tell you a secret the boys might not know..” he slowly started to whisper. he heard the boys quiet down in order to eavesdrop and hear the ‘secret’. “my boys don’t give me compliments like other na’vi children, so i find great joy in hearing them from others” he whispered while seeing a small smile flash across her face.

he softly smiled and then proceeded to say “don’t be afraid to knock them upside the head if they make you feel embarrassed again ok?” he mentioned

y/n giggled and then nodded her head very enthusiastically as if she was waiting for someone to tell her that.

“ok ! thank you toruk-“ she was interrupted by jake

“please! call me mr sully” he smiled

“o-ok sir! i mean-!” she stuttered

he softly laughed at her frustration. then turned to his two boys who were still eavesdropping on their conversation.

“what do you two knuckleheads say to y/n?” he asked in a authoritative tone.

“sorry y/n” the boys said in unison.

y/n looked at lo’ak and said “i forgive you”

she then looked at neteyam and blinked.

he blinked back.

she blinked twice.

she took a breathe and neteyam prepared himself for her to accept his apology.

“you’re not forgiven.” she stated with her chin tilted upwards.

“WHAT!?” neteyam shouted

jake and lo’ak looked speechless, however at the same time ready to burst with laughter.

“your not forgiven.” she repeated

“and why not?” he asked with his hands on his hips.

“first of all, you’re very sassy. look at your hands on your hips and everything! secondly you’re the one that killed blue in the first place! thirdly you made me feel embarrassed infront of your dad!” she stated as she hit the side of his head, as his dad suggested.

neteyam was shocked. his mouth was wide and he looked to his father and his brother for help. when he made eye contact with them, they both looked up and pretended to be involved in a very interesting conversation about leaves. lo’ak even went as far as putting a hand up to his chin as if he was admiring them.

‘traitors.’ neteyam thought still shocked.

y/n then hummed and bounced over to his father and brother and went to say her goodbyes.

“wait! will you ever forgive me for killing your fish? i brought back a bigger one like how you wanted! what can i do?” he desperately asked.

“hm… you can…. uhhhh”she thought

she then looked around as if eywa was going to give her a sign and made eye-contact with jake. jakes eyes widened as he had an answer. however in order to give her an answer be needed a question answered first.

“y/n do you have any siblings?” he asked

she shook her head no and then proceeded to say “no sir, my mother died while giving birth to me… so it’s just me and dad right now!”

“would you like to meet my daughter kiri?” he asked

her eyes lit up as she turned to neteyam “ you might be forgiven if you take me to see your sister.” she declared with a smug smile, knowing that the great toruk makto was on her side.

neteyam shot his father a look of betrayal as his father simply shrugged his shoulders. neteyam than sighed and turned his attention back into y/n who was practically jumping in delight.

“fine! let’s go see my family then…” he reluctantly said

y/n smiled is glee as she follower the three boys to their home.

a couple years have past from this moment. don’t worry… neteyam was forgiven! however y/n still found clever new ways to annoy him. eventually neteyam was sick of her games and was on the verge of losing his temper on her one day.

they were both the age of 15 when y/n had pulled a prank of him with lo’ak. they found it hilarious, however neteyam was at his breaking point. a couple hours later he was seen by the same stream he had met y/n at, with his bow in hand aiming at something swimming. he took a deep breath and was about to let go of his arrow in 3..2..1-

“RAHHH!” y/n screamed as she emerged from behind bushes. neteyam jumped and missed his target completely. he sighed frustratedly and tan a hand through his braided hair. he whipped around to find y/n doubled over in laugher.

“y-you should have seen your face” she wheezed

“would you knock it off!” he snapped

y/n stopped laughing in shock because of his tone.

“i-i’m sorry nete.. it was a jok-“

“DONT call me that! that is a nickname for my friends to use!” he yelled

“i thought we were friends…” she softly stated with her ears slowly lowering. that was something she did whenever she was emotional. the whole sully family knew whenever she was feeling sad about something because of the way her ears were.

“we’re not. we never were. you’re like this- this parasite that i can never get rid of! “ he declared in a strong voice.

y/n took a step back in disbelief. she felt the tears in her eyes. suddenly she felt like she was 12 again with the feeling of embarrassment.

“i’m sorry neteyam.. i didn’t kno-“ she started

“you never do! you never know! i should’ve never brought you back that stupid fish. it was my own stupid mistake that you’re still here.” he huffed

y/n was speechless. her mouth open and tears falling down her face. she took a deep breathe and slowly released.

“ok.. i’m sorry. i’ll leave you alone from now on.. i’m sorry again neteyam.” she slowly said while back away. her ears still low.

neteyam watched her leave and turned his head back towards the stream with a glare still present on his face. he sighed in anger and sat by the water. he ran his hands over his face realizing what he had just done. he didn’t know what to do from this moment. does he go after her? leave her be since he is finally alone now? he didn’t know.

the entire sully family noticed how y/n had stopped smiling around them. she became more distant and they had no idea as to why. she became stone cold. she stopped playing pranks with lo’ak on neteyam. there was a time where she eventually stopped coming to the sully family all together.

an entire year passed where the sully family didn’t see y/n anymore. she completely distanced herself away from anyone except her father. neytiri caught sight of y/n sitting next to her stream that she’s had since forever. she heard the sobs of the young girl and immediately rushed over to see what was wrong.

“sweet girl, what happened?” she softly asked while putting her hand on her back.

“my father.. he-he’s gone. he died a little while ago and i just- i ran! i didn’t know where else to go.” she sobbed. she longed to have someone as a sense of comfort, but she didn’t want to feel like a burden.

she didn’t want to see neteyam that’s for sure.

neytiri gasped at the news and gently took the girl by the shoulders. she then slowly stood, pulling the girl with her into a standing position. “you can always come to my family. we are always here for you.” she stated.

y/n looked up into her eyes and shook her head. her ears were at their lowest point. “thank you mrs sully, but i think it’s best if i’m alone right now..” she said with tears in her big eyes.

“ok… just know,that you have a home. with us. “ she declared

y/n nodded,saying nothing else as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

about a month past from y/n’s father passing away. everyone could see that she was struggling to stay sane for the clan. neteyam even noticed it. however whenever he tried to get closer to her she shut him out. neteyam now knew how it felt to be ignored from someone you want to console emotionally. and to think hes been ignoring her for years.

neteyam felt guilty.

y/n had continued to ignore neteyam while neteyam tried not to make it obvious he was always staring at her. he noticed her face slowly lost its natural blue glow and almost turn into a sickly color. so he had an amazing idea one day that could potentially get him smacked upside the head. again.

he noticed her sitting outside her tent sharpening her knife she got as a gift from her father. he slowly walked up to her, almost as if he was timid to approach her.

“hey” he said in a small voice.

she looked look but said nothing. the two made eye contact for a little while. she took a deep breath and sighed a little bit. “hello neteyam. “

ouch.

“i was wondering if you wanted to go fly with me later? i know it’s random and i know it’s probably weird b-but i would just like to talk…and apologize. properly for what i’ve said in the past. for the things i’ve done. so please meet me by our stream at eclipse” he almost sounded as if he was begging.

she took a good look at him and realized that he was practically pleading for her to go. she answered him rather quickly incase he decided to get on his knees and start asking again.

“..i would love that. i’ll see you there later?” she softly asked

“y-yeah! i’ll see you! and thank you for giving me the chance to apologize soon.” he thanked her

“i’ll believe your apology when i hear it neteyam” she teased. she had a small smirk on her face that reminded him of when they were younger.

he missed that stupid smirk.

she smiled back at her, excited that she made a facial expression.

and it was towards him

as promised, she met him by their stream. no longer her stream… but theirs

she sat on a rock and faced the water. she saw the giant fish from all those years ago that just so happened to replace her favorite one by the name of blue. she softly smiled to herself due to the memory.

she heard a rustle in the woods and turned her head. she watched as neteyam emerged from the greenery with his riding visor.

“i was beginning to think you stood me up since you’re so late.”she stated while crossing her arms.

neteyam chuckled at her annoyance.

“i am not late at all, you’re just freakishly early.” he said

he walked over to where she was sitting on the rock and gently grabbed her hands. he pulled her so she was standing with him.

“come on! i have an apology to say, however i’m going to wait until we get there.” he declared

“….get where?” she questioned

moments later she found herself on top on her ikran following neteyam. she looked at all of the glowing bioluminescence that resided on the ground. she always loved flying at night. how neteyam knew that… she has no idea.

the two were like their 12 year old selves all over again. they were teasing each other while flying in circles, passing comments, making jokes… they both had genuine smiles on their faces.

the two stopped on one of the many floating mountains neteyam lead them to, in order for the ikran to take a rest.

they were both laying down side by side looking and the stars. neteyam softly sighed and sat up. y/n, thinking something was wrong, sat up as well.

“are you ok?” she asked

“yeah, yeah i’m ok. i want to apologize now.i am so so sorry for yelling at you by the stream… it was wrong and i honestly don’t know why i did it. you’ve been nothing but kind to me… annoying maybe but still.” he started out trying to lighten the obvious tension.

“and i am so sorry for not comforting you when you’re father joined eywa. i’m so sorry. i’m sorry for everything i have done to you, how i made you feel. please, i beg you to forgive me. because if you don’t.. i don’t what i’ll do.” he stated with tears in eyes.

y/n looked at him with her mouth slightly agape. she was shocked at the apology. she knew he was going to, but to see him almost crumble and literally beg for her forgiveness has her in shock.

“neteyam…” she softly started “of course i forgive you. we were both going through some things and we’re both -unfortunately- people who prefer to handle things by ourselves. and don’t apologize for how you made me feel. how i feel should not have to be apologized for. how i feel about you is nothing negative, believe me. everything i feel for you is- is indescribable. so please don’t apologize for that.” she strongly finished as she cupped his jaw.

now neteyam was the one in shock.

“w-what feelings are indescribable. can you at least try to describe them…please” he whispered

“they’re the type of feelings you have for someone… when you deeply care for them, constantly worry about them.. they’re the type of feelings that make you feel like your stomach turn in the best way possible.” she whispered while slowly leaning towards him.

“you know… i think i know exactly what type of feelings those are. i have the same ones for you.” he stated while also leaning in.

the two closed the gap as their lips touched. y/n’s hands wrap around his neck to bring him closer to her somehow. neteyam put his hands on her waist as he slowly pushed her so her back was against the soft ground. the two put all of the unsaid feelings into the kiss.

neteyam gently cupped her cheek as he parted the kiss.

“you don’t know how long i’ve waited to do that.” he said while smiling, showing off his fangs.

“and how long would that be?” she questioned while smirking.

“when you demanded that you needed a new fish since i shot yours. that stupid smirk you had on when you said that.. i think that was when i knew i started to have feelings. back then i didn’t know what they were obviously, but now i do.” he finished while wearing a grin.

y/n smiled as she then closed the gap between them once more.

all because of a stupid fish.

this specific moment is one that is engraved in neteyams mind. this is the one memory that made him the na’vi he is today. y/n has made him the na’vi he is.

and he is forever grateful for that.

grateful for her.

and that stupid fish that brought them together in the first place.

thanks blue.

————————————————————————

i wanted to add details and a backstory but then school started again and i lost motivation 💀 but. i really like this and hopefully it’s not too rushed bc i did wanna add details, since it took me forever to write LMAOOOO

PLEASE send more requests! or ideas!! i don’t know what to write from here. i’ll hopefully get to them whenever i can!

[missmilkie]

hunter!Shota Aizawa/Eraserhead x fem!Reader

This is my first ever request, so I hope this is satisfactory.

Warnings: harem boy, gagging, humiliation, semi-public, handjob, blowjob, orgasm denial, spitting, nipple play, ball fondling, cumeating, pussyeating

WC: 1.3k

“I hate you, you know that?” The dark-haired man glowered down at you. You could tell he was annoyed, but you were letting your eyes glaze over his body.

Shota’s broad chest was exposed, the pale skin pebbled with goosebumps and littered with scars from being a hunter. The pants he wore hung low enough on his waist that it exposed a generous amount of his v-line and happy trail. His defined muscles were on display for your viewing pleasure.

“Hey, you’re the one who lost. It’s only fair.” A smug grin on your face as you held out your panties. The ones you were wearing not five minutes ago.

“But this is ridiculous!”

“But you agreed.”

Shota looked away, blushing and glaring at the wall. He muttered,

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.”

“Calm down, you’ll be wearing a veil, remember?”

“Have I told you how much I hate you?”

You snickered before taking his jaw in your free hand. Squeezing his cheeks, you stuffed the underwear in his now open mouth.

“Mmph!” Shota’s eyes widened in surprise as he tasted the traces of your juices. You became serious, his instincts putting him on edge.

“Don’t you dare remove those.” Your sudden dark aura turned back to normal. “Now for the veil!”

He couldn’t meet your eyes as you positioned the accessory on him. The black mist covered his face.

“Let’s go now. We have a lot to do today.”

You had a nail appointment first thing. Instead of letting Shota sit in the waiting area, you had him stand by your chair. He was hyper aware of the looks he’d get, and you paid them no mind at all. Worst of all, he couldn’t tell you off.

“Shota, pet,” you looked up him with a patronizing smile, “would you fetch me a drink? I saw a vending machine down the corner. You know what I like.”

You could feel Shota glaring at you through the veil. He still walked out the door and down the corner nonetheless, barefoot and everything. Soon enough, you had your beverage in the hand that wasn’t getting worked on in the moment.

Your nails were long and (fav color). You would need them later.

“Come in, Shota.”

The man flinched, but walked in. You closed the door to the changing room. Your deft fingers lifted the veil to reveal his flushed face.

“You’ve been a good boy, keeping my panties in your mouth.”

Shota made a sound akin to whimpering. Shopping with you had worn him down. It would be much easier to break him now.

“What’s wrong? Nothing more to say to me? Not going to remind me how much you hate me?”

“Noh…oo wehn…” he groaned, the fabric distorting his speech.

“Then come and undress me. I don’t have all day.” You altered your position to help with his task.

Shota moaned in obedience as he rid your torso of your shirt. Then your skirt dropped to the floor. He paused while you stepped out of it, nudging it to the side with his foot. Your bare pussy was exposed to him. For the first time that day, Shota felt overdressed.

“My bra too. I have some that I need to try on.”

“Mphmm!”

Shaky fingers unhooked your last article of clothing. You could feel his sweaty hands hovering over your back.

“There we go. That’s a good boy, Shota~” you turned around and let your hand slide down his abs. He gasped at your touch. The sensation of your nails was magnetic. “And good boys get rewarded.”

“Leehs.” His pupils had dilated with lust.

You dragged your fingers down, taking his loose pants with them. He closed his eyes out of embarrassment when his hard cock sprang up.

“Look at you~” you knelt down to examine. “He’s more flushed than you.”

“MmMmph!” Shota whined as you jerked him with your manicured hand.

“Now, we are still in public. You might wanna keep it down.”

With that you spit on his dick. Once. Twice. Thrice for good measure. Some of it dripped off to the floor while you spread it along his length. You could see him trembling as your hand went up and down.

“Play with your nipples.” Shota’s eyes shot open at your sudden command. “Now.”

His twitching arms moved to bring his hands to his hard nipples. Tentatively, his fingers pinched and rolled at them. You heard him hold back a deep groan.

Deciding not to give him a break, you took him in your mouth. Your sticky hand went down further to caress his balls. That was the last straw for him.

Shota moaned loudly, his mouth wide open so that the panties fell to your shoulder.

“Well, now the whole store knows how much a slut you are. And now they’re gonna hear me punish you.”

“Punish me?!” His voice was shaky.

“You spit my panties out. I specifically told you not to remove them.”

“It was an accident, (Y/n)!”

“And there you go breaking another rule. Do you remember what you’re supposed to address me as?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very good. Now for your punishment.” You dove back down to suck his dick.

Heavy gasps and whimpers sounded from Shota as your mouth sucked him in and massaged him. It was obvious to anyone outside what was going on. And you didn’t hesitate to remind him.

When his dick starts twitching, you keep going until he’s about to cum. Then you slip off of him, keeping him from his high.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because only good boys get to cum.”

With that, you stuffed the panties back into his mouth and went to town on him.

Three more times, you denied him his orgasm. He blinked away the tears that began collecting in his eyes after the second time.

This time, when you felt him approach his high, you showed no signs of stopping. The pleasure kept building painfully until it was too much to bear. And then he was cumming hard with a loud airy moan, spurts landing all over your face, neck, and tiddies.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Clean it up with your tongue.”

Without a word, Shota dropped to the floor to begin licking up your boobs. He moaned at the taste of himself and sucked his essence of your skin. He traveled up until he reached your face. Then he started kissing his cum off of you.

“Very good. Now, how do we thank those who make us cum?”

“Let me eat your pussy, ma’am.” He asked breathlessly, a hint of desperation in his voice.

You stood up and leaned back against the wall with your legs spread.

“Eat it, Shota.”

He crawled over to kiss up your legs starting from your ankles. The further he went up, the more wet and sloppy his mouth became. His tongue flicked out to taste you at the apex of your thighs.

It wasn’t long before he was making out with your cunt. His face was sticky with your slick and his spit. Shota moaned and groaned into you, vibrating your clit. You took it all with labored breathing, but you didn’t make much noise.

Even as you felt yourself climbing to the finish line, you kept quiet. Albeit your hips grinded against his face roughly. He never stopped, only kept thanking you for letting him cum in the dressing room of the store. Your nails left angry red lines on his shoulders.

You climaxed with a deep sigh. Shota let your juices cover his chin and slide down his throat. Panting, you let him eat you through your high.

“Very good, Shota. Let’s try on the clothes now.”

Without skipping a beat, he was offering you one of the bras you had picked out. You smiled as he hooked it together in the back.