#i've been aching to post my own work for a while

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird (2)

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

part 1 | original text post

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, romance & fluff, smut, size kink, sane and consensual, roleplay, rough sex, spanking, bondage & gags, tattoo kink, dom!simon, sub!reader

bunny says: love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are encouraged!

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living with an ex-convict was interesting. he still woke up at the crack of dawn, and as a result you were up too. he didn't know where anything was in your apartment, he hated that he had to wake you up but he didn't know where the spoons were.

you were happy to help him and spend some extra time together before you went to work. the more you were around him, the more you realized how big he was compared to you.

even his hands were much larger than yours. he loved to wrap you up in his arms and hold you while you were making yourself some breakfast. those strong tattooed arms around your middle as you flipped eggs.

sometimes he'd bury his face in your neck and visibly relaxed. he was still dealing with his fair share of trauma from the previous events of his life. and while it often left him stressed, he found comfort in you.

"you're my anchor, love." he said within the first week of his return to society.

you simply smiled and tried not to blush too hard as you said, "well, si. i'll happily be your anchor, as long as your mine."

"you're anchor, your rock, your foot solider, your lover." he said as he kept his gaze on you. since he had been living with you, you found his expression had softened a little. he could relax here.

"my husband." you reached out for him. he took your hand and kissed the top of it before he held it for a moment then returned it to you.

simon had a long road ahead of him, being on the inside for so long was going to cause some problems. but, he knew even if he had nothing. he had you.

it was almost five months into living together and he managed to get an interview working in small parts manufacturing. while it was tedious, they didn't need to look at his criminal record. which greatly excited him.

when he came home from the interview, he told you that it went well. that they seemed to like his dedication and were impressed when he mentioned his time in the military. he said, "got the whole 'thank you for your service'." as he held you and kissed you deeply.

it felt like your little lives were coming together. but the one thing you hated to admit to yourself. you sort of had a dark side, it wasn't anything too aggressive or 'evil'. you thought that simon was the perfect boyfriend, he'd never hurt a hair on your head.

but the idea of being with a criminal sort of had a sexy ring to it. to be with the bad boy. you almost felt embarrassed to admit it when he'd come home with flowers for you, or when he smiled at you. or when he held your hand when you went out. with you he got to be a person with love.

deep down you wanted to know the depths of your boyfriend. you wanted to know what a man like him, with his skill set, was capable of. you wanted it to burn, ache and hurt.

it took a lot of courage, you communicated with your boyfriend about a little make believe. while hesitant at first, he slowly started to warm up to the idea. you knew he was open to it when he came home from one, actually the first day at his job, with a bundle of bondage rope.

"the blue looks good on you." he remarked as he finished tying you up on the bed. he had your arms behind your back with you on your side and one leg tied to the bed post.

you looked at him, those eyes of yours were so alluring. you tried to move your leg but was stuck to the bed. he smiled down at you and tapped the ball gag in your mouth.

"but it doesn't matter what you want. right?' he asked, "i've searched a long time for you. you're not an easy woman to catch." he got between your legs, and hiked one leg over his shoulder as he started to aggressively lick your cunt. it was already dripping from the act of him tying you up.

there was no escape for you, even if you somehow got out of the bondage. he was almost twice the size of you and could do some damage if he wanted to.

you squirmed and whimpered around the ball gag as he took long, hard licks against your clit. he wanted to make sure his girl was wet enough for his large cock.

"maybe i should breed ya. bring you back to the boys all fat with my brats.' he purred, "i don't think they can throw ya in the can if you're pregnant. but who knows, you got pregnant by a thief." he continued to lick your sweet cunt. he was in heaven.

he really was so much bigger than you. he overpowered you, he could keep you down and fuck you until he had his fill, and there was nothing you could do about it. you were bound and gagged like a good girl.

he kept at it, he even teased your hole with his thick fingers until you were squirming more with your moans getting louder. he slapped your ass and gave you a stern look over your pussy. he gripped your leg over his shoulder. "shut up." he growled, "i don't need ya causin' a scene. i'd hate to go back to prison because you can't keep your trap shut up."

you hole clenched and he chuckled. he patted where he smacked and grabbed at the flesh before he went back to his feast between your legs. it didn't take long before the slick between your thighs got all over his face.

he pulled away and sat up on his knees. he stared down at you with your thigh wrapped around his waist. he was going to fuck you at a weird angle, but it was the only way he could keep his little prize tied up. he wiped is face, "you are the best thing i've caught." he said, "stolen a lotta loose change, but they're nothin' to the sweet taste of your cunt." he got his cock out his sweatpants and started to rub it against your slick pussy. he let out a harsh sigh from the sensation, "they should be keepin' ya behind the vault door." the tip slipped in for a moment and you clenched around it.

you whimpered and tried to pushed yourself down on his cock, but it was hard to do that when you were so tied up, he pushed the hair out of your eyes, your leftover wetness got on your cheek from his movements.

"but, you need to know." he said, "you're mine to do whatever to. your mommy and daddy aren't gonna save ya. you fell in love with a bad man and now you're lettin' him fuck your cunt raw. what's gonna happen at christmas when you're all swollen with my brats. riley boys are lil hell raisers." he went back to rubbing his cock up against your slit, "you'll be mine forever. my little prize. i should've taken ya a long time ago. just snatched ya up off the train. keep ya to myself." his tongue was getting loose from the buzz of pleasure in his brain.

you whimpered around the gag and almost cried out when he slipped his large cock into you easily. you felt it in your guts and his pace was much more brutal than the other times you've made love. that was the difference, you made love before. this was dirty, primal sex between a criminal and his captive.

the sounds of sex filled the air, paired with simon's heavy breathing. his heart was thumping steadily as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he loomed over you as he drilled himself into you. you were a comfortably tight fit around his cock.

you dug your nails into your palms from the immense pleasure and yelped when he slapped your ass. you whimpered when he leaned further into you to get closer into your personal space. his pace was brutal and it excited you.

"i'm a bad man." he said lowly, his voice close to your ear, "my worst crime is tainting such a precious angel." he held onto your calf as he bent your hips the closer he got. his voice was hot, "fill ya right up, make sure no other man has a chance to get ya knocked up." his tattooed hand went to your stomach which he gave a small rub, "my girl carryin' my boys."

your eyes almost rolled back from the heat in your body. you were almost drooling around the rubber gag in your mouth. it was dirty, it was filth. if anyone saw the state you were in, they would be shocked!

your head felt full of lust, you felt your lover so close to him. you knew despite the roughness and the harsh words, the entire scenario was safe. you knew you could get out of this if you needed to. but it wasn't getting to be too much, it was just enough.

the wetness between your legs and the flips in your stomach only excited you. to have such a large man be so domineering. it made you feel small in a good way. it was almost like being bound made you feel protected.

that you could lay yourself over to him and he'd cherish you. even if you were his little 'prize' for the evening. the hottest part was the pace at which his cock was battering your womb.

you whimpered against your gag and felt the heat rush through you. you held onto your palms as best as you could with your arms bound. the entire situation left you spinning, there was no wonder that orgasm crept up on you so easily.

with a loud moan around your gag, you climaxed around his cock. the tightness of your cunt mid-orgasm milked his cock till he was seeing stars. he came inside of you, his seed hit against the back of your womb.

the feeling of being able to do so left him a little slack-jawed. but he kept it together, even if his cheeks were flushed. when he finished, he slowly pulled out and started to untie you. his hands were shaky from the after effects of his orgasm.

he took the gag out of your mouth and pulled you in for a kiss when he finished untying you. he fell into bed with you and laid on top of the covers with you. he held you gently and kissed your face. he gave you gentle praise as he kept you in his arms.

when he looked at you, all was right in the world. you held onto him and pressed kisses against his face. after care consisted of tea and a small snack followed by a shower together, where he washed every part of you.

even though you were capable of doing it yourself, you still appreciated how detail orientated he was in the manner of getting you clean. little did you know that biology was working its magic and simon's seed found home in your cervix.

you better hope that the line about the riley boys being hellions was untrue or you'd have your hands full. it didn't help that when simon's hand grazed your stomach as he washed you that you blushed and tucked yourself closer to him.

mama riley did have a ring to it.

[revelboo]

I've seen people talk about waiting impatiently for another chapter of a story. I've never actually experienced it myself until now.

I just want you to know that these little posts about Starscream and the little human are my first experience actually setting my tumblr to alert me when someone posts and then frantically scrolling to read it lol.

Your writing is phenomenal and I love the physical descriptions you use for sensory type stuff. Just..... BRAVO!

I genuinely get a jolt of endorphins with each post!

And I hope you are doing well and having a nice day!

Awww, thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! Starscream’s pretty fun to write.

Everything is Alright Pt 18

Starscream x Reader

• Venting loudly, he tips his head back against his berth. Can feel you still staring at him anyway, but he doesn’t look. Doesn’t need to see those pleading eyes, because his resolve will crumble. Just needs this contact, the warmth of your small form and the steady drum of your heart to ground himself. To prove you’re really okay. “No,” he growls, the word a firm warning that he couples with a gentle, but firm warning tap of a servo to the back of your head. “If you’d run into anyone smarter, you wouldn’t have survived.”

• Something he really doesn’t want to think about, but that his processor is delighting in torturing him with. You’re just so fragile. Breakable. With any luck, Scrapper immediately forgot all about seeing a human. With how many blows to the helm the mech has taken over the decades, his processor isn’t the most reliable. It’s honestly amazing he remembers his own name sometimes. “The cassettes kept me safe,” you protest, pushing up and he immediately pins you flat again under his palm. The cassettes. Why exactly you think they’re safe, he’s not sure. They certainly tossed you right at him on sight to save themselves. Denta working, he shutters his optics to keep from snarling. He’s not jealous of the fact that you seem to like their company. Of course not.

• He’s not sleeping or whatever passes for it in Cybertronians, just ignoring your protests. The hand laying across your lower body to keep you in place isn’t still. One single servo slides over the back of your head down between your shoulder blades again and again. Stroking almost absentmindedly, but it still slowly drains the tension out of you. And him, too you’re pretty sure. Cheek laying against him, you can feel the thrum of whatever it is inside him and smell him, a spiced scent with a metallic bite. Not unpleasant, just different.

• Blowing out a frustrated breath, you swallow a groan. You were so sure the cassettes are your get out of jail free card. Or at least, a day pass from spending the time he’s out and about doing whatever his alien robot job entails staring at the walls of his quarters alone. Pestering is just likely to make him angry and you don’t want to ruin this fragile peace. Or try to figure out what exactly you are to him, because it’s unlikely to make you feel better. And that brings you back to the look that has been on his face. That violent fury that had just fallen away because you were okay. He’d been worried. Maybe even terrified. And it makes your heart ache.

• He’s told you that he’s the second in command before while grumbling about his leader, this Megatron with a mix of sneering revulsion and an uneasy fear that’s only betrayed by his wings. What you know about the Decepticons is pretty sketchy at best, but you get the distinct impression that being second in command isn’t exactly glamorous. Maybe more like others constantly gunning for his spot by any means necessary. Which almost makes a sort of sense. If you are seen as a weakness of his, you might be targeted. It might be safer to be kept a secret. And trapped in his quarters for your own safety. Even if you hate it, you never want to see that stark fear on his face again.

Previous Next

[eemamminy-art]

Title: Coming Around Again Rating: Explicit, no archive warnings apply. Summary: It had always been his dream to eventually return to Pelican Town after spending his summers there as a child, but when Mallory inherits his grandparents' old farm he is surprised by just how much the town— and more importantly the people in it— have changed. Alex had been his best friend once, but now he was seemingly too busy and too cool for his old friend. Mallory threw away the life he had been building in order to come back home, but nothing is as he remembered it to be. His heart aches for the fleeting happiness of his past, and to forge a new future for himself— with any luck, a future that includes Alex by his side.

I've finally started posting this! I've uploaded the first three chapters and plan to post one chapter either every week, or every other week on weekends. It feels so vulnerable to finally be sharing this after pouring my heart out for 100k~ words, but here goes! I hope you enjoy!!

(Do note, that while marked explicit, the explicit chapters will be later. It is a slow burn after all!)

[luxsky]

Kicking out

Rhysand x reader

Summary: Reader tries to have a peaceful day without their partner hovering with overprotection, but destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of body aches, Rhysand being an overly protective rooster. Ignore any biological errors; I've never been pregnant and have no background in any health-related field, so everything here is either from my imagination or a quick Google search.

Autor's Note: This is my first time posting here, and I'm anxious and very, very nervous (especially because it's the first time I've written in a long time). I don't know if I like this or not, but this idea has been lingering in my head for days. Maybe I'll do a part two, but I'm not sure. Please, I welcome any kind of feedback here! (but be careful with how you say it). I apologize if the grammar is... bad? English is not my first language, and I'm not fluent (much of this had help from AI for translation, so if something doesn't make sense or is placed incorrectly, please let me know so I can correct it).

It's the beginning of fall, all you wanted to do was sit on the expensive and cozy sofa decorating the House of Wind and read a soft and cliché romance book while sipping on a cup of hot coffee. Except, you couldn't consume caffeine for the sake of the baby growing in your belly. Still, you had the option to sit and read a book, but your large and exuberant belly prevented you from sitting comfortably for too long. Well, nothing a few pillows and a blanket couldn't solve. Okay then, you didn't have coffee or a comfortable position, but you could still read your book, right?

Well, no, you've been trying to do that since the early afternoon when you sent Rhysand to his office, asking him to work a bit in his own court instead of watching over you. In fact, he had been a mother hen since the beginning of the pregnancy, and that was just one of the excuses you gave to get rid of his overprotectiveness. But it was becoming a challenging mission to concentrate on reading. You're nearing the end of your pregnancy, which is exciting in part, with the anticipation of meeting your little one consuming you, but the discomfort of carrying a baby constantly kicking your ribs has proven quite persistent.

It's been more than five minutes since you were stuck on the same page, reading and rereading but unable to focus on the book, back pain and intermittent cramps stealing all your concentration. You were used to a slight discomfort in your back since the beginning of the second trimester, but today, in particular, it was more of a significant and noticeable discomfort. You sighed in frustration and decided that maybe eating something would help. Putting the book aside, you remove the blanket from over you and swing your legs out of the sofa, prepared for the struggle it would be to get up. Normally, Rhys would help you, but if he left the office long enough to realize something was bothering you, he would spend the rest of the day hovering over you, worried and concerned.

Breathless and almost sweating, you managed to get up. At this point, the only clothes that fit you were light fabric dresses, or what you were currently wearing: one of Rhys's sweatpants and a sweater stolen from his closet. Your partner started sharing half of his wardrobe when your beautiful, stylish, and beloved clothes no longer fit you—you cried for a whole hour after trying to put on one of your favorite pants, and Rhys almost cried too, not knowing how to comfort you.

Walking towards the kitchen, you almost laughed, remembering the various times when hormones provided you with uncontrollable tears and frightened your partner. In those moments, you felt slightly vindicated by his insistence on being present for every breath you took. It's not that you didn't love your partner and appreciate his concern; it's just that he didn't know how to balance it at certain times. As soon as you told him you were pregnant, he became an overprotective mother hen full-time, and it suffocated you a bit. Of course, you talked about it, and he promised to control himself, but if you made a different move, he was already on top of you, asking what was wrong and insisting that you needed to stay in bed.

Reaching the kitchen, you pause for a moment to catch your breath and lean your hands on your back while deciding what to eat. God, this belly was weighing more than usual. Deciding to make a big, hearty sandwich, you start gathering all the necessary ingredients from the cabinets and placing them on the counter.

You feel your partner gently pulling that thread connecting you two, and the next moment, he's entering the kitchen, a furrow between his eyebrows indicating that he's thinking, and the slight contraction in his mouth tells you he's worried. "Darling, you should be resting."

You roll your eyes and let a faint smile form on your lips as you reply, "I was resting, but then I got bored." You lean against the counter for a minute, then turn to grab a knife to cut the tomatoes. When you turn again, Rhys is in front of you, reaching out towards you and taking the knife. "If you wanted something to eat, you just had to ask." You pout at him, but he ignores it and turns to the counter, starting to cut the tomatoes. "I just wanted to do something for myself; you don't let me touch anything since you found out I'm pregnant."

You're beside him, staring at the tomatoes he cut, waiting for a response. He turns his face to you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead, grabbing the bread and saying, "Because the only thing I'll let my partner do while she's pregnant is to make this baby. That's consuming enough energy, and I don't want you to tire yourself out."

"Well, your partner may be making a baby, but she assures you she has enough energy to make her own sandwich."

He raises an eyebrow, and a shit-eating grin forms on his lips. Like she had enough energy to organize the baby's clothes last night? His voice fills your mind, the thread connecting you two vibrating with his amusement. Bastard.

I only slept because you decided to intervene and didn't let me do anything else.

"Darling, I only intervened because you were asleep." He starts putting each ingredient on the bread, and you decide to sit — not because you're tired, obviously — in front of him. You go around the counter as you respond, "Well, I don't remember... Argh." The sudden pain reverberating in your back and cramping that comes and goes cut your speech in half. Damn, you really hoped it wouldn't happen now.

Rhys is in front of you before you can even move, one hand on your belly and the other gently placed on your face, guiding your eyes to meet his. "What's wrong? Is it you? The baby? Panic fills his voice and shines in his beloved violet eyes. His mouth has that contraction again.

The only response you give is a negative nod, trying to catch your breath as the pain passes. He continues with his hands on you and doesn't seem satisfied with your non-verbal answer. I'm fine, the baby is fine. It must have been just another kick in my rib.

His right hand holds the one he placed on your face, and his lips try to form a reassuring smile, which is probably just a funny grimace at the moment. He kisses your forehead, and there's still concern on his face when he pulls away just enough to put both hands on your belly. His gaze alternates between your face and your belly; he still seems reluctant, so he asks again, "Are you sure? I can call Madja just to check, and..."

''Shh." You interrupt him, placing a finger on his lips. Your gaze softened, and now you're the one placing both hands on your partner's face, your thumb stroking his cheek." I said we're fine; it's nothing serious. The baby has been restless all day."

That seems to convince him enough because he agrees and holds your hands, bringing his face closer to yours and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. You pull away after a moment, this time with a complete smile when you playfully say, "Now, go finish my sandwich, or else this baby will start kicking for food." Rhysand laughs with your remark and turns to the counter, finishing your sandwich.

He starts putting away the ingredients again after placing the plate in front of you. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain? We could have asked Madja for something." He finishes putting away the last ingredient and turns to you again, only the counter separating him as he watches you take the first bite of the sandwich.

"Oh God, this is so good." You ignore his statement, too focused on savoring what might be the best sandwich of your life. He accepts your lack of response with a soft laugh and turns to the cabinets to grab a glass. "Do you want some juice?" you mumble a yes, with your mouth full of the sandwich, and wait for him to fill the glass. He has his back to you while rummaging through the cabinets.

Splash.

"What kind of juice do you want, dear? Because I think we only have orange or grape, but I can ask the House to make some other flavor." He turns to you, waiting for a response, but his face transforms when he sees your expression. "What? Is something wrong?"

Oh, well, this is going to be funny. You finish swallowing the sandwich, trying to formulate a word. He stays where he is, waiting for your response, frozen. But it's your next words that make him run towards you.

"I think my water just broke."

Another pang erupts in your back, and you realize that maybe it wasn't the baby that was restless. It was contractions.

And this baby is about to kick its way out of your belly.

[coffee-in-rain]

Vulnerable Hannibal Fic Rec List

Updated 11/23/2024 with five new additions located at the bottom of the page! A few of these fics are mine, but the rest are some of my favorite fics I've ever read that feature vulnerable Hannibal in various seasons, AUs, and post-canon.

shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn):

Will begins to notice a change in Hannibal's behavior post-fall, and that he's become something akin to a fretting housewife.

The Ache Against The Wind (Rewritten):

3x13 AU: Will travels into an alternate dimension after plunging into the Atlantic and is confronted with the unexpected aftermath following the removal of Hannibal's toilet in the BSHCI.

Pareidolia:

Six weeks post-fall, Hannibal suffers from a seizure during dinner.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots:

Six months have passed since Will pulled them over the cliff. Even in light of their progressing relationship, much of Hannibal still remains a mystery to Will. For reasons unknown, he’s begun to pull away. (A sequel to Shrike--my housewife Hannibal fic!)

Between The Hour Of Reprieve:

At the cliff house, Hannibal receives a much-needed-hug.

A Cabin In The Woods by KoolJack1:

Hannibal is thirteen and runs away from the orphanage when he feels that a fate of the elements will be better than the fate of abuse. He finds a small cabin in the woods, thinking warmth will be all he finds. He also finds Will. But who changes who?

Recipricol Alchemy by Scifibabe:

In the silent echoes of his dreams, Will Graham treads a line blurred between control and chaos, each step drawing him inexorably towards claiming Hannibal as his own. It's a perilous dance on the edge of darkness, where the thrill of possession whispers of a transformation too profound to resist.

Hold Me, Don’t Let Me Go by sourweather:

It's a few months after the Fall when it finally hits him. Hannibal has barely been touched in 3 years. And Will won't let it go on for another moment.

Hosanna In The Highest by sainthannibal:

During the fall, Hannibal receives the brunt of the injuries, which leaves him unable to care for himself. Will discovers how much he enjoys taking care of him.

You Made Me Soup by itsybitsylemonsqueezy:

Hannibal comes down with pneumonia while incarcerated. Will decides to make him some soup. Absolutely no one thinks it's strange that Will comes to give his ex soup when he finds out he's sick. No one at all finds this suspicious. At. All.

The Boy Under The Monster’s Bed by Wr4tttttthh:

There were deep wounds that needed healing, new and old, physical and otherwise.

Delicate Ghost by hannigramcracker & TimmyJayBird:

She was different- not the ghost of his memories, but something about this bloodied child ripped right at Hannibal's chest, and left him drowning in a cold snow he thought he had left in his childhood, that he had locked away within his skull. Drowning, with only one hand to grasp at, one body to cling to. One man to work him through the trauma and remind him what life was.

You With Those Nails, Me With This Cross by TheBitterKitten:

Will goes too far.

The Distance Is Quite Simply Much Too Far For Me To Row by softhan:

Hannibal is having a rough time recovering from his injuries post-fall, and retreats into himself to avoid confrontation with Will while he's still weak and ill. Having to play happy husbands hardly helps.

Silk and Lace by jonnimir:

Bedelia leaves Hannibal and Will a gift at the house on the cliff.

Not So Fast by scifibabe:

Hannibal wakes from a heated dream with a need that can’t be ignored—and Will, half-asleep but all too eager, is more than happy to help. What begins as a midnight indulgence quickly spirals into an overwhelming game of push and pull, as Will’s relentless appetite pushes Hannibal to the edge and beyond. Kinktober Day 10: Overstimulation + Face-Sitting

Hush Now by scifibabe:

What starts as Will stitching up Hannibal's latest hunting injury turns into something else entirely when a teasing "let Daddy take care of you" slips out. It's meant to be a joke--until Hannibal's reaction tells a different story. One playful push leads to another, and soon enough, they're both realizing they might be into this a little more than they expected. Kinktober Day 19: Fisting.

I truly cannot recommend Hush Now enough! It'll live rent free in my mind and heart for the rest of my life ♡

The Antidote To Grief by incidentsofunkownorigins:

On Will's idea, they visit Mischa's grave. What Will had hoped to be a healing moment of closure breaks something in Hannibal and he is the only one who can put the pieces back together.

Pulse Point:

Post-Fall, an injured Hannibal awakes from an erotic dream, desperate and needy, aching for Will's touch.

Marveling at a Spoon by scifibabe:

After a gourmet dinner, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter decide to indulge in something a little more... pedestrian—a joint. As the smoke settles and their usual control begins to loosen, Hannibal finds himself experiencing a sensation he never expected: a heightened sensitivity that unravels him under Will’s teasing touch. What starts as a curious experiment in relaxation quickly turns into a surprising discovery, one that leaves even the meticulous Hannibal completely undone. Will is all too eager to take advantage of his newfound knowledge, and Hannibal, for once, is too overwhelmed to resist.

We Are Now Among The Ruins by ADeedWithoutAName:

Hannibal survived the fall, but not unchanged. He intends to give Will the only gift he now can, and Will intends to honor him in the only way that matters.

Something Sacred by scifibabe:

In the quiet aftermath of their survival, silence has taken hold. Hannibal hasn't spoken since the night they washed ashore, his voice swallowed by their shared trauma. Will, haunted by the absence of words and the weight of unspoken things, has learned to reach Hannibal through touch, through the quiet rituals of care. When the strain of Hannibal’s pain becomes too much to hide, Will draws a bath—an unspoken offer of comfort. But today is different. Today, beneath the surface of familiar rituals, something stirs. As the warmth of the water surrounds them, walls begin to crack, and a fragile trust, once guarded so fiercely, blooms into something more intimate and vulnerable than either of them anticipated. In the quiet steam of the bath, two men find solace in each other’s arms, where tenderness can no longer be ignored.

A Pinch Of Salt In The Wound:

Renderered mute and bedbound post-fall, Hannibal begins to spiral.

Crystalline:

Hannibal becomes severely injured post-episode 3x13.

compimento by cervviidae:

Hannibal learns what it's like to be Will's husband.

Solace In Being Heard by air_of_the_Waterfall:

Hannibal is having terrible nightmares, and Will comes up with a rather unexpected method of helping him get a full night’s sleep.

Bright Burn by Shotgun_sinner:

Hannibal suffers life-threatening injuries post-fall. Will makes decisions to save Hannibal, while trying to recover the life with him that he's only just realized he wanted. How far will he go to keep what's his?

crave, then succumb:

Hannibal receives a second hug post-fall, while high as a kite on morphine, and ends up unraveling in Will's arms.

chimera of the chapel by bleakmidwinter:

When Will Graham wakes up from a coma three months after the fall, Jack reveals that Hannibal Lecter didn't survive. Outside the realm of Hannibal's influence, Will decides to discover the full truth behind the world's sudden and seeming falsehood. Everybody seems to hold their own opinion on Hannibal's fate, but Will knows better than anyone that trust and honesty are as elusive as death.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

(short continuation to the prompt I wrote, which is linked below. I thought I was done with this, but then @victoria-has-no-secret and @bluerosefox had some ideas to incorporate into it. Screenshots of said ideas are also below but are sprinkled throughout the post too.)

(*) = Me building off of other ideas

TW: mentions of animal death

← previous

✦

After the whole fiasco with the Justice League, Danny gets an idea. Not very many people actually know about Laika, at least from what he could see of the majority of the Justice League who had never learned about her. Although, to be fair, a lot of them come from different planets. Either way, it gives Danny the idea to create a YouTube channel starring Laika to teach the people of Earth about the pup.

The channel immediately garners attention from all around the world, and even winds up on a couple of news stations too! It grows so much that Danny decides to expand further than just Laika, but to the other things that were sent into space in the quest for knowledge: The space rovers as well as many other animals.

Laika even leads Danny to them as he ventures further into space with a specially made camera that can withstand traversing space and the differing atmosphereic conditions of other planets. He manages to find every single one of them, discovering that maybe Laika hadn't been as alone as he'd first thought as he watches and records her playing with the spirits (imprints?) of the rovers, chimps, mice, and many other animals haunting the endless void of the cosmos.

People back on earth are going wild with the knowledge that their hopes, thoughts, and feelings helped to give life to beings that had long been dead/stopped working. They have no idea what to feel about this new information except an amalgamation of pure awe, curiosity, joy, guilt, and sadness. They still mourned the loss of Laika, the rovers, and everyone before and after them, but knowing that their existence wasn't completely lost soothed an ache many didn't know they carried with them when they were there to witness the beginning of such astronomical leaps in technology.

To also know that out of the many stars shooting across the sky, one of them might be Laika happily racing amongst the stars with her friends brought many to tears. At every opportunity, they wished for the sweet pup's happiness and the continuing health of their own furry companions down on Earth with them. They also wished that upon the eventuality that they have to part with their companions that maybe a few of them would join Laika and her friends in stars to keep them company for many years to come.

Although many of these wishes were heard by Desiree, she refused to touch such hopeful and well-meaning wishes for fear of twisting them in unseemly ways, allowing them to form on their own. The other ghosts among Danny's rouges even made a deal with each other to not interfere or attack the town when Danny was recording his videos out in space.

It was beyond bad manners to interfere with another ghost's obsession, after all.

✦

I'm gonna go cry some more. I've learned more about the progress of space exploration in the past couple hours than I probably should. This is the last thing I'm adding onto this prompt. If any of y'all wanna continue it, be my guest!

Notes:

(*) One more thing to add. Where are the ghost hunters/Guys in White during all of this? If they start making a fuss over Phantom and all the ghost animals, do they get a bunch of civilians raiding their government facilities and causing them bodily harm? What's happening with the Justice League? Are they sitting back and eating popcorn while all this goes down? Who knows. :)

[prodbymaui]

Happy Wife, Happy Life.

baby, take my hand. I want you to be my husband

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x reader

GENRE: porn without plot, husband!haechan, established relationship

WC: 1k+ words

WARNINGS: slight somnophilia, reader is pregnant, unprotected sex (I mean..), breeding kink

SYNOPSIS: Haechan decides it doesn't matter if he's tired-- waking up to you bouncing on his cock is worth it.

A/N: uh.. hi? I've been working on 2 fics these past few days, hence I wasn't able to post drabbles and ficlets. So I gave you this as a compensatory fic (?). anyways, happy reading!

The moment his wife fell asleep, he wasted no time in bathing himself and doing the same thing. Dealing with a furious boss, handling a meeting for a big project, checking the progress of each departments and the list goes on. Haechan's day, to say the least, could be defined as tiring and draining.

His deep slumber, however, was broken when he heard small whimpers seemingly around him. The instincts of being a husband rang inside him, immediately alarmed by the thought of you being in pain-- so he opened his eyes.

Haechan doesn't know whether to be thankful or otherwise as he met with a sight of his pregnant wife bouncing on his cock, hands forming fists in an attempt to hide your wails. Your husband cursed while you gasped, his hands gripped your thighs and steadied you above him, guiding and helping you to a more pleasurable and stable pace.

Maybe it's the hormones, the feeling of guilt of waking up your tired husband to fend your own desires was enough to prick tears in your eyes, lips quivering lightly when you couldn't afford to stop despite wanting to. ''I-I'm sorry, love.. I- ah!'' Your hips jerked, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and hands fell to hold on to the sides of Haechan's.

He spurted out profanities, wrapping his arms around you as he sat up to a more comfortable position, feet flat on the floor. ''Are you gonna cum, pretty?'' The gentle whispers against your ears contradicted the harsh meet of your and Haechan's hips, clashing feverishly as you both tried chasing a high.

Observing how your nose reddened, eyes glassy and lips pouted in an enticing way-- Haechan knew you've been riding him for a while. True to his guess, your mumbles of rants and cries proved him that you were indeed bouncing up and down on his dick not shorter then 5 minutes ago. ''Can't cum, can't--''

The whines was a music to his ears but as much as Haechan loved hearing you desperate for release on his cock, he wouldn't want to let his wifey to fend for herself, wouldn't he now? Of course, not without making you beg for it.

Panic raised inside you when the ache in your thighs became unbearable, your high slipping away from you just as fast as it came. You shook your head left and right, bracing yourself on Haechan's shoulders as you tried to chase the climax back, big globs of teardrops running on your face when pain overpowered the pleasure.

Lee Haechan, as cruel as he was, fucking laughed at your state. This man never failed to make sure that you knew he gets off of you being desperate, being needy for his big cock. If possible, his already hard length, got even harder at one of his favorite sight of yours. Eyes shut tightly, pussy glistening in arousal, begging him to fuck you with no remorse, to have his way on you for the sake of cumming.

Tilting your face up with a contrasting soft grip on your chin, he smirked. ''Beg,'' That's all he had to say for you to scramble on your words as you spat out the nastiest shits while sporting your best innocent face. Haechan loved that.

''Please fuck me, use me however you want. Wanna feel your cum inside me-- making me pregnant with your child. Want everyone to see who got my belly big and round. Fuck-- I'll do anything, please!''

It happened too quickly that you didn't had time to process his next actions because the next thing you knew, you were caged in Haechan's arms as he flipped your positions, laying you down gently on the mattress. Giving your stomach a last sweet kiss before plunging inside you and thrusting just how you like it, deep and rough.

The husband intertwined his hands with yours and pinned them above your head. With this, he had an hd view of how his wife's face was scrunched up in pleasure. The moans and cries shoot straight to his ears. His gaze went from the beautiful flush of your face to the plump boobs, hard nipples, untouched.

Wetting his lips, Haechan dove into the appetizing buds. Licking, sucking and nipping them as if he hadn’t had any meals for days. You had no choice but to take and take everything your husband has to offer.

Letting go of your hands, he moved his grip to the curves of your waist. He, then, leaned backwards and almost felt his cum shooting out as he witnessed the ethereal image you were presenting. ''Fucking hell.''

You're so beautiful like this-- all spread out for him, shining under the moonlight that was peeking through your bedroom's windows. So beautiful that he had to fasten his pace, give you pleasure more than you can take so he could see you glow in the best way you both loved so much.

And you're there, laying down, gripping the sheets and babbling about how much you love your husband's cock. Your body reacted to the immense pleasure, not knowing whether to pull away or meet the thrusts.

''Yeah, just like that, baby. Come for me-- come for me, my love.'' You cried out loudly that a complaint from the neighbors tomorrow was already guaranteed. A ring of white formed around the girth of Haechan red length, your pussy clamped down on him, determined to suck the cum out of him. Your begging and the constant clenches of your warm velvety walls were the ones that finally pushed him to edge, his semen filled you up as Haechan caught your lips in an intimate kiss, hoping that the amount of his love for you can be seen through it.

Deep breaths and giggles. It took more than a few minutes for the two of you to calm down. Haechan laid beside you after doing his duties as your lover, aftercare. With a wrap of his arms around your waist, Haechan murmured something about how you'll probably get attacked by your hormones again this morning and how you shouldn't feel guilty of using him just the way you liked.

Because he was yours, just as you were his.

Comes morning and there you were, under the sheets, smiling up to him so cheekily and innocently. As if you weren't holding his dick in your hands, as if you weren't just sucking him dry.

[goldustwomun]

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. anyway, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 4.9k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

Oh but, babe, you know I've tried and failed But you just don't know how it feels To lose something you never have and never will

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you all but screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were. 

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face.

“Oi, language! I would tell him the same but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to roll your eyes.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth once more, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist.

“Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other was just that: sweet, but sickly all the same.

Somewhere inside of you, in between the urge for unattainable perfection and the fear of failure, you yearned for a love like theirs. Something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time.

James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, and their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love. 

You loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, even going as far as to offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

And one of those always eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news your mother had broken to you only moments earlier, head pounding and fists balled into shaking fists, that you couldn’t take seeing his face quite literally in front of you, as well. 

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh. 

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor. 

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat. "I mean, I've only just stepped inside."

Sirius had yet to quite grasp why you got under his skin so quick, squirming between his nerves like a misfired electrical impulse.

You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). If books and movies were to be trusted, what with fiction being so reminiscent of real-life, he'd have expected be like some sort of brotherly figure to you.

But even the thought of it had bile creeping up his through, as if it was so unfathomably wrong his body refused to entertain the possibility of it.

So no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, shrill when indignant voice (which was rather often around him), your need to always be right – something about you brought the worse out of him.

Had him constantly searching for something new to point out, to irritate you all over again, hit the nail on your specific head - something to really push you that little bit over the edge. 

It wasn't even like he enjoyed it, watching you get all huffy, nostrils flared, brows knitted together, face verging on a flushed red. Sirisu was well aware that with every jab the two of you threw at each other, things got a little more out of hand.

Right before he had left, two years journeying through the glades of Scotland, then France, Greece, Türkiye, India, Taiwan (he'd been close to everywhere), he had made the mistake of aiming a particularly ruthless dig at you, and watching your face crumple, devastated and defeated, it had finally cracked him inside.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it then, what with leaving the next day, and two years later, it seemed a little too late.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him away, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food.

Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts. 

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission. 

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well.” 

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing God son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught. 

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully. 

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened. 

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.” 

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother.

“I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly. 

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen.

You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam -- O Levels, you’d called them. 

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with whatever book was in your hand before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons (in Sirius' mind at least), were in endless supply for you.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book. 

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door. 

Sirius didn’t know why he such an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed some moldy bread or a particularly strong cider.

He's known you your whole life, watched you graduate from pencil to quill, and then again from Hogwarts.

Two years was a long a time, and the thought of you holding what he had said all those months ago -- what he hadn't meant, not really -- he was dreading the confrontation.

He nudged the door open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange ring of light from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in repeated patterns of owls and roses, but instead a single wall painted a burnt umber and with the remaining covered in tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall.

A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with stacks of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched. 

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of effortless confidence, and leaning against your doorframe. 

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same as the day he'd scolded you before leaving, and those stupid, brown eyes of his, like murky swamps you wouldn't be caught dead looking into, were training on you.

Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now. 

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with your face?” you asked, already knowing you'd regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with your face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth. 

“You changed your room,” was his only response, and really, what did he expect to say to that?

"I did. Figured I'd use your absence wisely," you snarked back, meeting his gaze as you continued, "--you know, finally grow up and all that."

And you hadn't forgotten, but he didn't blame you.

You got up at his lack of silence, walking the few steps up to him, head tilted like a cat, wary of her surroundings but curious nonetheless.

"Was there something you wanted, Sirius?"

And fuck if the way you said his name didn't have him fighting whatever foreign feeling, urge, instinct was shouting at him in that moment.

You walked past, trembling as your shoulders touched, making it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before you had your moment of revelation as well.

Somehow, whether it had been a slow process over his two-year absence or something far more sudden in the past few minutes, he'd wormed his way back between the cracks of your heart, and this time, you worried you wouldn't survive.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough.

Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed). 

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wished you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black). 

You were deemed an adult now – loved to point it out any chance you got, and that meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!” 

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour. 

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what not, even if it was a minuscule sum. 

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you into his tight embrace once more. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on.

He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much.

“It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt. 

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there. 

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius. 

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed.

So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist. 

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck. 

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises  down the side.

You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did. 

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop. 

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in. 

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you. 

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met. 

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You bristled at the endermeant but continued nonetheless.,

“You weren't busy. You were screwing some girl according to the bruises on your neck,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if hoping to shield them from your gaze.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, irritated. 

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close. 

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

You frowned at the look of genuine distress written so plainly across of his face. If you two were anyone else, you might've let it go.

Might've--

“Well tough shit, Sirius. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about and not whatever fantasy you've been frolicking about these past two years." You were fuming, unnecessarily so, but both of you knew this was fight had been years in the making.

"I understand you lack the ability to form real, genuine connections but come on, Sirius. You're not a fucking teenager. Grow a pair and take some responsibility for once in your life!"

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable but your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” he bit out. “Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be equally as miserable."

It was already going to shit, Sirius was well aware of it, but he couldn't get himself to stop. To just shut up.

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking uptight all the time someone might actually give it to you too," his voice now barely above a whisper with his anger deflated as he stared, pained, at your reaction.

And it didn’t take long for you to react -- for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard. You hadn't done anything two years ago but he thinks he saw you consider it. So the fact that you had finally, struck across the face, spoke to how different things really were. How different you were.

"Potter, I--" and he was speechless when he really shouldn't have been. He swallowed, trying again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

What you hated most was that you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults at him for every comment or look or the stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?” 

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done. You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

Sirius debated if this was a sign for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid maiming you with his words, he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament. 

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it. 

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo! 

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish. 

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.  

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started. 

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated. 

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind. 

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Impulse

AN: Um so, I wasn't supposed to post this, let alone be working on this, today. I blame @majestyjun for violently tossing me back into severe Beomgyu brainrot and, my brain produced this in a few hours as a result. I have 6 other fics I've been actively working on and this is what I did instead. ONE OF THEM IS EVEN A TXT FIC. Either way, enjoy the fruit of my suffering.

Synopsis: After two weeks of no sex while visiting your parents, Beomgyu is beyond frustrated. You completely empathise with your boyfriend but, you're determined to tough it out. You fail to consider just how persuasive Beomgyu can be.

Heads up: Choi Beomgyu x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mostly pwp, dirty talk, pet names, incredibly mild degradation (f. receiving), risky sex, fingering (f. receiving), Monster dick! Beomgyu agenda, Pussy whipped! Beomgyu (is this going to become a thing lol?), Dick whipped! Reader, unprotected piv sex, breeding kink and creampie.

Word count: 1807

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Beomgyu," you chastise when you feel your boyfriend's hand sneak its way up your tank top.

"I can't help it. You just look so hot and you feel so soft. It's been for fucking ever," he groans against your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You pointedly ignore the dull ache you feel between your thighs.

"I know, baby but, we're just here for one more week," you respond sympathetically. It's not as though you don't understand his frustration. If anything, it resonates with you a little too deeply. So many mornings of waking up to him hard and hot and pressed against your thigh have really been testing your own sanity. Having to push down your baser instincts as you get out of bed and get ready to spend another day with your family.

None of this is helped by how needy Beomgyu has been as the days with no sex tick by. Desperate, messy make-out sessions before bed and one night of a quick blowjob not nearly enough for either of you. However, he's been trying to tempt you more and more in recent days, and your fragile composure is dangerously close to shattering.

"I can't do this for another week," he whines, his fingers toying with one of your already hard nipples. Before you can chastise him again, he grinds his fully hard cock against your ass and, words completely fail you.

You bite your bottom lip in an attempt to silence the moan that bubbles up from the action and the sensation of his fingers pinching your sensitive nipple. Instinct is what makes you press your ass back into him, and Beomgyu seems to lose it at that.

"You want this just as badly as I do. Don't worry, baby. We'll be quiet. Make sure noone hears," he whispers while his hand finds itself in your sleeping shorts, and more specifically, your panties.

"Fuck. Shit. You're already wet," he practically moans when he first comes into contact with your pussy. Expert fingers rubbing circles against your clit in the way he knows will render you little better than a whimpering mess.

You try your best to silence your sounds against the pillow. Fingernails digging into his forearm while he rubs your clit and grinds against your ass in search of some sort of relief. You accidentally bite your tongue when he pushes two of his stupidly long fingers inside of you.

"Wanna fuck you so badly. You're so wet and tight and warm," he breathes behind you while his fingers stretch you out. A slightly louder cry flies from your lips when he sinks a third finger into you. Beomgyu doesn't give you much time to get used to the intrusion. Curling his fingers mercilessly inside of you while his filthy mouth keeps going.

"Fuck, I missed this. Missed feeling your pussy. Can't wait to feel you around my cock," he groans, his thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit this time around. Your thighs begin to quiver violently, and you feel the knot in your core tightening with each one of his ministrations. You're embarrassingly close already.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Huh? Already? That's so hot. You're so hot. Please cum for me. I wanna feel you cum."

Between his words and fingers, you never stood a chance. You shove your face deeper into the pillow in an attempt to muffle your whimpers and moans when you do eventually fall apart on his hand. Your mind is too dazed to be certain, but you're pretty sure you can hear Beomgyu still talking. For the life of you, you can't make out what his saying though. Tremors still wreaking havoc on your body as he slowly fingers you through it all.

You haven't cum this hard and quickly in what feels like ages. The one time you caved and touched yourself in the shower a few days ago not coming anywhere close to this. Beomgyu might've seriously spoiled you for anyone else. Even yourself, apparently.

"Baby," you eventually hear him whine desperately against your shoulder as he grinds against your ass more aggressively now. Looks like seeing and feeling you cum did quite the number on him.

"I know, Gyu," you soothe, rubbing his forearm, "I can suck you off," you offer.

You feel him shake his head behind you. Jolting slightly when his fingers move inside of you before he speaks, "I wanna fuck you," he says, the throatiness in his voice making you clench around him instinctively.

This is incredibly stupid and risky but, you're already so far gone and you miss feeling him inside of you.

"Okay."

That's how you find yourself with your face in one of the pillows and your ass in the air for him. Anticipation and desire mixing into a heady cocktail in your system as you hear him shuffling behind you. You'd love to see his face. Beomgyu always makes the most attractive faces but, you're just happy to be getting fucked in general.

You gasp softly when you feel his cock prod at your soaking entrance. Wetness smearing your inner thighs and likely coating his tip. You imagine you're making quite the sight right now. Beomgyu, never one for shyness when it came to you, admitted that one of the reasons taking you from behind is so enjoyable to him is the view he gets.

"You're dripping onto my dick, princess," he whispers, running his cock along your slit and letting your juices cover him. "Beomgyu, don't tease," you respond, meeting his lidded gaze over your shoulder.

You're not sure what he sees on your face but, evidently it's enough to finally get him to push into you. He hasn't even started yet and you already find yourself biting down on the pillow and clawing at the sheets beneath you. Your pussy definitely feels that it's been two weeks without feeling him inside of you. The stretch stinging more than it usually would.

"Relax for me, baby," he coos softly, his thumbs soothingly rubbing your hips as he slowly eases into you. You try your best to. Tears accumulating in the corners of your eyes as he sinks inch after inch into you. God, it feels otherworldly. Even with the slight pain that comes along with feeling him pulse inside of you.

"Fuck," he groans when you take initiative and push yourself back until he's completely sheathed inside of you. The grip he has on your hips becoming bruising as you both try to catch your breaths and regain some semblance of composure.

Your thighs are already shaking, and you let out small whimpers and moans just from feeling him bottom out. His tip brushing against places you still can't comprehend exist sometimes despite being with him for months now. Beomgyu, for his part, seems to be struggling more than you currently. His cock throbbing violently inside of you as he grits out curses and groans between his laboured breathing.

"You little slut. I could've cum," he moans and god, you really wish you could see his face. Before you can fire back a retort, he pulls back before thrusting back into you. The drag of his girthy cock along your walls dissolving your mind into a puddle. One thrust, and you were already a drooling mess.

You're not the only one affected if his strangled moan is anything to go by. His pace picking up considerably once he's sure you've mostly adjusted to him. You pray to whatever deity is willing to listen that the walls of your childhood bedroom are decent. There's no way you two could silence the sounds of skin slapping against skin even if you tried.

He doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. His cock splitting you open over and over again while all your body can think to do is fist the sheets and take it.

"So wet and tight around my dick," he moans as quietly as he can manage, "Missed this pretty pussy." You feel him spread your ass to seemingly get a better view. A breathy 'fuck' and a particularly brutal thrust confirming your suspicions.

You can tell he's close. He was barely hanging on by a thread when he eased into you but, the uncoordinated nature of his thrusts and increase in sounds tell you all you need to know.

Taking all the energy and brain power you have, you look at him once more over your shoulder, "Beomie, I ah want you to cum insi-inside me pl-please," you whine. The glazed look in his eyes is replaced by something more dangerous. Something more feral. You walls tighten around him in anticipation, and a shiver runs down your spine.

His arms wrap around you while he fucks into you faster, chasing his own release. "Yeah? Does my baby want my cum? Want me to cum inside until it's dripping out of you?" He asks darkly against your ear, nipping the lobe in the process. You're sure he could tell at this point in your relationship but, fuck you love it when he gets like this. You weren't sure if you could cum again but, he certainly is trying to get you there.

"Ye-yes, please. Wa-want it. I need i-it," you whimper in response, a few tears rolling down your heated face.

"Ah fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Your pussy is gonna make me cum," he moans, his cock pulsing incessantly while his thrusts become sloppier and sloppier. "You're gonna take it like a good girl, yeah? Take all of it. Let me breed this pretty pussy until you're filled with nothing but, my cum," he rambles bordering on delirious. His words making you grip him even tighter, "Yes Beomie, please please please."

That does it for him.

His broken whines and moans flood your ears while his cock pulses inside of you. His tip feeling as though it's kissing your cervix with how deeply he's nestled in your pussy. He holds onto you like a lifeline as he rides out his release, his warm cum filling you to what seems like the brim.

For a moment, all that can be heard is your laboured breathing. Beomgyu sagging against you as you two crumple onto the bed.

"Maybe we should wait weeks to have sex more often. That was so fucking hot," he mutters against your shoulder and you valiantly resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Do you really want to go weeks without having sex again?"

"... Fair point," he responds sheepishly.

You do snort at that. Shaking your head good-naturedly at him.

"So, can we do it again?"

"Beomgyu, you just came,"

"Yeah but, I'll be ready to go in like 20 minutes,"

You love your boyfriend's stamina but, it really was a double-edged sword at times.

[hearts4golbach]

could you write something about reader and johnnie related to the line 'he love me but he fucks me like he hates my guts' from the song yummy? ty 💕💕

Tease.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings: use of ma, baby, mama, love, babe, slut, cheating, rough sex, unprotected sex (please use protection lol), overstimulation, implied hair pulling.

third person.

Johnnie had never thought of you as anything more than his best friend. maybe he had thought about you late at night, biting his tongue so as not to wake up jake in the room over, but never past that. he had always shooed away the thought, anyway.

ever since his past girlfriend, he had refused to ever think of another person romantically. although, he had acknowledged from time to time how funny, kind, and beautiful you were. he admired you in a friend way, he told himself.

although, whenever you had posted a selfie laying in your bed in the cutest outfit he had ever seen, it made him rethink your relationship.

he thought about the way your face lit up brighter than the sun when you saw him and the way your hand would purposefully graze him every chance you got. how could he be so oblivious? he began to think as his feelings for you grew.

you never seemed to mention other guys until you did. it was late at night whenever you had walked into johnnies room and asked him for advice. you wanted to know how to respond to a flirty text some random guy on instagram had sent, you explained. You thought he was cute and lived just a city over. this infuriated johnnie, as his feelings had been brewing for about 3 months now.

it didn't help that he got to see you every day, not that he was complaining, but it was torture. he frequently thought of you in your booty shorts and oversized band t-shirt early in the morning, making breakfast. or the slutty dresses youd wear to parties every other weekend. dont even get him started on the rhinestone belts you incorporated into every outfit. you had one in every different color, and he believed it was the cutest thing, your little addiction to them. it became too much to bear, and he frequently considered pouring his heart out to you. but he never did. things were going well with the other guy, and all he wanted was for you to be happy.

first person.

"Why are we even hanging all of this up? everyone is gonna be too drunk to notice, anyway." i complained, my arms beginning to ache as i held the decorations of choice to the wall while johnnie pinned them.

he shrugged, his eyes trailing down my body as i stretched. "cause were cool."

"i guess," i sighed, "im so worried, the guy I've been talking to is coming tonight." truth was, i could give a fuck less about that guy. yeah, he was sweet, but he wasn't johnnie. he wasn't anywhere close to being as prefect as johnnie was.

i looked into his eyes, praying he would beg me to uninvite him and be his, but that didn't happen. "Don't be, you'll be good," he responded nonchalantly before turning away to go put up valuables in the house that could be broken.

i stared at him for a moment before turning around and tending to my own work.

"Do you think this dress is okay?" i asked frantically.

"y/n, people are about to start showing up, and you're still trying to get dressed -" johnnie began to scold as he turned around.

his face flushed as he admired me in the dress. his eyes hesitated, staring at the slit in the dress that revealed my thigh and how the cut of the dress complimented my cleavage. he stayed silent.

"...so?" i asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"yeah, its whatever. its good." he brushed me off, going to unlock the door.

i hated how much he acted like he didn't care. i rolled my eyes and walked back to my room to put my shoes on. even though it was my own house, i didn't want anyone looking at my feet, of course. i put on my comfiest pair of heels and went to grab the drinks from the kitchen. i organized them on the table, setting out the plastic cups. i felt an arm wrap around my waist as a presence moved next to me.

"hey, its good to see you." the guy from instagram whispered in my ear. i leaned into his touch, ignoring the growing ache in my heart. "you look stunning."

"Thank you," i smile, "it's good to see you, too." This was only the second time we had ever seen each other in person.

i heard johnnie laughing behind me, presumably speaking to jake. i glanced behind me to see him leaning on the counter. he looked at me at the exact same time. He held his breath as his eyes ran over every part of me before turning his attention back to jake.

i sighed, "you wanna go dance?" i asked, hoping he'd say yes and hoping johnnie would hate it.

his eyes shined with lust, "Of course."

i grabbed his hand and dragged him into the other room, making sure we were still in johnnies vision. the guys hands moved to my hips immediately, pulling me onto him. my eye twitched with anger. i hoped it would work. i hoped and prayed johnnie would give in and make me his, so i had a reason to end this situationship. distractions weren't working anymore.

i kept my eyes on johnnie as he turned to watch. his eyebrows scrunched together whenever he saw the way i was pressed into the guy. his hand gripped the cup tighter, his knuckles turning white. i held eye contact the whole time, my gaze never leaving his as our movements became more sexual.

johnnie turned back to jake, saying something before setting his cup down and walking over to me. "can i steal you for a second?"

"Sure, bro," the guy said, taking his hands off of me and letting me walk away with johnnie.

"what, johnnie?" i groan, "im just trying to have fun."

he pushed me into my room and shut the door behind us and locked it. "what the fuck do you think youre doing?"

"what do you mean?" my heart raced.

"You know exactly what you're doing." he whispered in my ear, his pale arms snaked around me and grabbed my hips. "You've been teasing me for so long."

he pulled me closer. i pressed my hands against his chest. "really? what makes you say that?" i taunted.

"Those tiny jean shorts you wear around the house. you never wear them out, so i know they're for me. and those studded belts you always wear that somehow make your body even sexier than it already is." his hands slid down my thighs and pulled up my dress. it bunched around my waist as he squeezed my ass. "you really think i dont notice all the slutty little things you do?"

i bit my lip, feeling his nails digging into my flesh. "i was hoping you did. ive wanted you for so long."

"me too, mama." he replied before crashing his lips onto mine.

the kiss was rough and needy. he pressed me against the wall, his hands dragging up my body to my tits. he squeezed and pawed at them, not bothering to be gentle. i let out a soft moan on his lips. i felt him grow harder through his jeans as he pressed into me. i began to pull off of his shirt, immediately returning to the kiss as it landed on the floor. he wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing gently. our teeth occasionally clashed as we tried to take as much of each other as possible.

he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before bringing me to the bed. he tossed me down on my back before crawling on top of me. his mouth found the soft spot on my neck, biting and sucking until dark hickeys covered my neck and chest. he pulled the top of my dress down, revealing my bare chest.

he hummed, "god, you're so beautiful." he murmured before taking my nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled over the bud, sucking gently. i moaned and arched my back, grinding onto his buldge.

"fuck, johnnie, let me have you." i pleaded, beginning to unbuckle his pants.

"Yes, ma'am." he complied, pulling his pants and boxers down around his ankles. his hard dick sprung out of his jeans.

i hissed, "shit."

johnnie slipped his middle and ring finger in my mouth. "Spit, baby." i did as he told, licking his fingers before spitting on them. my gaze never left his. i watched as lust overtook his eyes. "Good girl."

he rubbed my spit on his cock, wincing slightly as the friction. his slender fingers slipped through the lace strap of my underwear, pulling them down. i choked out curses as the cold air hit my pussy.

"god, youre fucking soaked." he smriked, "youre going to do so good for me, ma."

he gripped my hips, aligning his tip with my entrance before slowly sliding his cock inside of me. my mouth fell ajar as a soft moan escaped my lips. he bottomed out, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. my walls squeezed his cock, sending shivers through my body.

"fuck," he choked out, "are you okay?" he checked, running his hand over my cheek and pulling on my bottom lip.

i nodded quickly, wrapping my legs around his waist. his fingers intertwined with mine, putting one hand above my head. his other stayed on my hip, gripping so tightly i figured there'd be bruises in the morning. he began to thrust slowly, taking his time with me.

"I've wanted to feel you for so long," he muttered on my lips before kissing me softly. "god, youre so perfect. do you think you can take me, babe?"

i hesitated before nodding. "yes, oh my- please."

he moved his hand, so he had a firm hold on my hips. speeding up his pace, he whispered sweet nothings under his breath. "That's it, baby." his hand flew to my clit, rubbing circles.

my back arched slightly as i threw my head back. he took that to his advantage, his cock driving further into me. "Oh, shit." i moaned, placing my hand on his chest. "johnnie, i-i can't.."

"Yes, you can, love. i believe in you." his eyebrows furrowed. "im not done with you, yet."

i nodded, letting pleasure take over my body. moans and curses flowed out of my mouth. his pace was relentless. my mind was fuzzy, and i couldn't form any words besides his name. i moaned his name loud, forgetting other people could hear.

"you arent worried about your little boyfriend hearing you?" he chuckled in between pants, "youre such a slut, i love it."

"only you," i repeated, "only for you."

"That's my girl," he slammed my g-spot over and over as a knot began to form in my stomach. "youre mine."

i nodded eagerly, "'m gonna cum, baby."

"Me too, where do you want me?" he asked breathlessly. his thrusts became sloppy.

"inside. im on the pill," i moaned out, louder than i was expecting.

"i fucking love you." his raspy voice responded. "cum with me, mama."

his thumb met my clit again as my walls milked his cock, taking every last drop of his cum inside. my orgasm took over my body, making me go limp.

he kissed my forehead. "god, you're amazing," he flipped me over so i was bending over the bed, "give me one more."

all i could do was nod as i was still recovering from my previous orgasm. without warning, he was inside of me again, his quick pace never faltering.

my moans became high-pitched. the overstimulation was a mix of pain and pleasure. his fingers tangled in my hair, pushing my head down into the bed as he hit a different angle inside of me. his other hand gripped my ass as low whimpers slipped from his lips.

"fuck, i love you so much." his sweet words contradicting his actions. i tried to say it back, but it came out unintelligible. he stopped thrusting, balls deep inside of me. "use your words, baby."

"fuck, i love you." i grinded my ass into his hips, "i love you so much."

his cock began to drill into me again as i felt the knot in my stomach tighten again. "You close?" i moaned out in agreement. "Me too,"

my second orgasm hit me like a truck at the same time his did. johnnie collapsed onto the bed next to me. "we'll go shower when everyone leaves." he said breathlessly. i nodded in agreement. i laid my head on his chest and knocked the fuck out.

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hi hi! It's been kind of a long week for me lmao but here's the next part! You'll def wanna stick around to the very end of the post; there's a very fun surprise for y'all lol

Also! If you like my writing or want to see a quicker update of this or another series, I've opened commissions (student loans are hitting a lot harder than I expected orz). If you're interested, you can find more information in this post

Even if you don't commission me, I appreciate your likes/comments/reblogs of my work! They keep me going and make me really happy ^_^

Anyway, now for the good stuff. As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

----

Sinking a ship takes skill, intense planning, and strong tails. Or, if you're Robin and seven guppies, it takes incredible, unbridled rage and a worry that could kill a Kraken. A ship that should take half the day to sink only takes the group two hours, their tails bashing against the hull and claws ripping planks to let seawater surge inside. Dustin is particularly brutal, recruiting Lucas and Mike to help him use the same net that caught him and took Steve to drag the ship beneath the waves.

Between tending to Dustin's wounds, lying to the pod about why they're going to be away for a while, and actually tracking the damned thing, it took Robin and the guppies a few days to catch up to the ship. And as they scavenge the drowned wreckage, pushing past broken doors and through holes in the hull, it becomes increasingly clear that they're too late.

"Where could he be?!" Dustin shouts, his gills flaring and bubbles rising in an enraged pattern above him. He takes a spear and jabs it into a water-bloated plank. "If he's not here, that means he escaped, right? So why hasn't he found us yet?"

"Steve could have been taken by another ship," El points out, her head poking from behind a mast. She's gained a dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt and is currently using her nails to dig the jewels out and drop them into a seaweed bag.

Robin frowns, swimmingly anxiously in circles. She's not the one that's good with guppies. That's Steve. If she's the fun caretaker that encourages them to play Scuttlefish with sharks, Steve is the one a tail's-length behind dragging them back to the pod before they can get hurt. He's the one who knows how to keep the guppies calm and healthy. Robin is the one who keeps them energetic and chaotic.

"He was definitely here," Will says, swimming out from a cabin on the ship. He stops in front of Robin and holds his hands out, letting her see the dull, blood-stained scales sitting in his palms.

With a shaking hand, Robin takes the scales and turns them over, hoping they're somehow not Steve's. But he's her partner. Robin could recognize him by the flick of his tail alone. So, of course, she knows they're Steve's scales at a glance.

She turns, her tail creating a small current that brushes over the guppies and forces them to look at her. "If he's not on this one," she says, "then we'll just keep sinking ships until we find him."

"Let's start with the other ship," Erica says.

"The other ship?" Robin asks.

Erica nods, pointing in the direction they'd just come from. "A few leagues before we found this one, I saw another one that was sailing in the other direction. Maybe they crossed paths."

For a brief moment, Robin wonders how she missed the other ship. But then she remembers how she's been caught between her own worries and keeping the guppies from spiraling, and she gives herself a break. "Yeah," she says, nodding as she closes her fingers over the scales. The edges cut into her palms but don't draw blood. "Let's go track down that ship. But don't keep something like that from me next time."

The guppies all nod in agreement, and Robin looks at the wreckage around them. She's half-tempted to let the guppies loot the rest of the ship, but she knows they're all aching to find Steve already. So, Robin herds them away from the sunken ship in the direction Erica pointed and hopes Steve can hold on for just a little longer.

----

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

Song Types

There are several song types that merfolk are likely to use in their lifetime. While the human ear cannot distinguish the intricacies of the songs, it can tell the major categories apart.

As newly-born guppies, they know only how to vocalize wordless sounds based on their needs. These sounds are referred to as Guppy Songs. These songs are generally lacking in any real melody or rhythm. They are rough and unskilled, but many caretakers consider them precious.

Pod songs are shared tunes and melodies among the pod to communicate big news. When hearing a pod song from a lone merperson, it will sound incomplete. Pod songs usually require at least one other merperson to support or respond to the initial measures, which creates a complete and satisfying loop.

Individual songs are varied and unique, as the name suggests. They cover a range of emotions that simply can't be communicated through regular speech or bubble patterns (to learn more about bubble patterns, please see Part I: The Basics). Among these songs, the most important to know is the courting song, which can actually be multiple songs using the same opening measures and melodies with slightly different tones.

Now that you know the most basic kind of songs, we can move to harmonizing. Truthfully, a human's ability to harmonize with a merperson is nearly impossible. However, it can be done with an instrument, which can reach ranges the human voice cannot. So, if you don't know how to play one, I'd suggest learning. Harmonizing is a key step in the courtship process, after all.

----

Steve shrieks as Eddie spins him around, the sound high and grating, and clings tighter to Eddie's neck. His tailfin slaps Eddie behind his knee, hard enough to make him falter and slip on the rain-soaked deck. He falls on his ass, Steve safely in his lap, and laughs. The charms in his hair knock against each other, and Steve idly reaches up to brush his finger against one. "What was that for?" Eddie asks, the words slightly breathless.

"You surprised me," Steve says, frowning slightly as raindrops catch in his eyelashes and make them heavy. He holds a hand above his eyes and then does the same for Eddie.

"You just looked so pretty, sweetheart," Eddie says, grinning at Steve like he knows what bubble pattern his fluttering gills would create (flustered and flattered).

He rolls his eyes, looking at the sky and sea in the distance. The ocean is surging, and waves and sea foam collide as the wind picks up force. Dark clouds hang over the sea, and Steve would be concerned if he didn't know the storm would clear up soon. He can tell from the sound of the ocean and the taste in the air: the water isn't angry enough and there isn't enough salt on his lips.

The rain is still going to turn brutal, though, and Steve would prefer they weren't on deck when it happens. He overheard Asher and Jeff talking about the last time Eddie got soaked to the bone and got sick. He's not sure what a "cold" is, but he doesn't want Eddie catching it again.

"Let's go back to the cabin," he says, looking back at Eddie with a light smile. "I want to hear you play that, uh, gee-tare."

"Guitar, Stevie," Eddie corrects, holding Steve tight as he stands. He has an excited smile, something expectant in his eyes that Steve still hasn't figured out.

Steve hums, knowing very well how it's pronounced, but he likes to see the somewhat dopey smile Eddie gets whenever he mispronounces something. He gets the feeling Eddie also knows he's doing it on purpose, but he's not said anything yet.

Eddie carries him down to the captain's cabin, kicking the door shut with his foot. "Where do you want to be, sweetheart?" he asks.

After a moment's consideration, Steve gestures to the bed, looking forward to the soft pillows and even softer sheets. When Eddie places him down, he wiggles until his tail is curled comfortably, soaking the sheets beneath him, and looks at Eddie expectantly.

"Any requests?" Eddie asks, clearly amused as he grabs his guitar and hops onto the bed next to Steve. His knee brushes against Steve's tail, drawing Steve's attention briefly to the faint scar that lingers across his scales.

He's been healed for almost a day now, and Steve should probably start bracing himself to say goodbye, but he'd like to remain in denial a little longer. He doesn't want to leave. Even if he knows he'll come right back with Robin and the guppies, Steve doesn't want to be away from Eddie that long. They haven't even confirmed their courtship. Leaving before they do means any merperson with half a brain could see how much of a pearl Eddie is and try to steal him away.

Steve forces the thought away, forces himself to focus on answering Eddie's question, and shakes his head. "Just play something," he says.

Eddie nods and thinks a moment as he tunes the guitar. "Could you hum something?" he asks.

When he looks up at Steve again, there's something oddly intense in his gaze. He looks determined, as though something very important is riding on this moment. Steve isn't sure what it is, exactly, but he knows he doesn't want it to pass him by. Steve nods and starts humming a soft and familiar tune, one he's used a lot more after meeting Eddie.

It must be the right choice, because Eddie practically lights up, a grin tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes as he listens. After a few seconds, he starts plucking strings on the guitar, adding a gentle accompaniment that makes Steve's humming rock back and forth like the ocean currents.

Usually, Eddie plays fast, his music filling Steve with the same heat and energy as an underwater volcano in the middle of an eruption. But this is slow and sweet like the honey Steve tried a few days ago. It creeps through him, his gills fluttering with each note that Eddie pulls from his guitar. He feels soft and happy, his voice shifting to follow Eddie's lead as inspiration hits him.

They trade the lead back and forth between them, and Steve starts to actually sing at some point. He doesn't know when he opened his mouth and started to vocalize the notes instead of just humming them, a sweet melody forming as his voice resonates with the guitar. It just happens as naturally as swimming. Steve can no longer tell where his voice ends and the guitar begins. They've fallen into sync, strumming and singing together without missing a beat.

Steve leans closer, his heart pounding against his ribs even faster than usual. They're harmonizing. He realizes it suddenly, but it doesn't catch him off-guard. It's just a whisper in the back of his mind, a little nudge that makes him smile and move without thinking beyond the desire to be closer.

The song doesn't end naturally. In fact, Eddie is in the middle of a particularly lovely string of notes when Steve kisses him, still humming low in his throat. Eddie's fingers fumble, a sour note pulling from the guitar, but Steve doesn't care. He's too busy wrapping one hand around the back of Eddie's neck and placing the other on Eddie's chest.

He can feel Eddie's heart beating just as rapidly as his own, and Steve presses closer. He's barely balancing on his tail as Eddie moves the guitar from his lap, pushing it to the side of the bed while he kisses Steve back. Eddie pushes his hand into Steve's hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.

Steve's humming happily rises in pitch, and he finally loses his balance, his weight pressing entirely on Eddie and causing him to fall back on the bed. The kiss breaks when Eddie bounces slightly, their foreheads knocking together, and Steve can't help laughing.

"You're fucking gorgeous, sweetheart," Eddie whispers, his free hand trailing to Steve's waist and settling on his back. His fingers brush against the line where scales meet skin, and Steve shudders, his mouth going dry, and he kisses Eddie again before he can say another word.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

[vivid-ink]

"Show Me & Teach Me"

Neteyam Sully / female Omatikaya reader

Summary: You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training? What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

Content: Angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This is my first ever Tumblr fic post! I've posted previously on AO3, Wattpad and FF.net, but I discovered this wonderful fandom on Tumblr recently and you've inspired me! Shout out to these bloggers whose work and writing I've been avidly browsing recently - @cinetrix, @andraga12, @pandoraslxna, @lanasblood and @draiochtwrites Special thanks to @cinetrix for her fabulous Neteyam renders. SO. BLOODY. GORGEOUS. This is also my first attempt at a Neteyam/Reader style of writing, so I hope I've done it justice. I personally don't like the usage of 'Y/N', so the reader's name in this is Seyla. The name is not used often, but there are a few points where it has been used for stylistic/emotional effect in the dialogue. Cross-posted also on AO3 - Show Me & Teach Me Other works available - VividInk AO3

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The dichotomy of emotion that swirled in your chest was a frustrating ache; a blight against the happiness of the occasion. Today was a happy day, and yet the unwelcome despondency you felt stubbornly insisted on battling with your elation at having finally completed your rites of passage. You had completed Iknimaya to tame your own ikran last week, and yesterday you had completed your uniltaron (dream hunt).

You were officially a woman now, born again as one of the Omatikaya, and tonight the entire clan was celebrating you and your other successful peers. Your peers who are all a few years younger than you are… The pessimistic part of your brain unhelpfully supplied.

The swallow of saliva down your throat was tight at the thought and you mentally attempted to bat away the negativity. So what if you were a late bloomer? What mattered was that you had succeeded now, and you had one person in particular to thank for that.

Neteyam…

His name breathed like a soothing balm over your fraught mind, but before your thoughts could carry you further away from the jovial festivity that surrounded you, the call of your name jolted you from your contemplation.

“Seyla! Come and join us! Tonight isn’t for sitting, it’s for dancing!”

Twisting your torso where you were seated to meet the mirthful eyes of another girl across the bonfire, you gave her a small grin in response and shook your head. Nope, you were not much of a dancer. You were skilled with your hands; at weaving; at beading, and at healing – especially healing -, but the rest of you was as uncoordinated as they came. This was one of the reasons it had taken you longer than most to achieve your rites.

You raised your voice to ensure it would carry over the percussion drumbeats of the music and the crackle and spit of the fire, “No thanks! You go on, Pania! I can’t dance, and I’m happy being merry over here with my drink!” The vessel of bittersweet alcohol in your hand was brought to your lips once more to prove your point and though Pania pouted, she acquiesced and returned to her frolicking.

Shyness had been your constant companion your entire life. You had never liked being the centre of attention, had always been content to just blend into the background where it was safe and constant. Happy though you were tonight at your success, no amount of cajoling would to persuade you to join the mosh pit of revelry around the bonfire. You preferred your quiet contemplation, observing and finding joy in others’ bliss while they enjoyed the celebration around you.

With another sip of your drink, you sighed to yourself as the liquid burned a path down your throat.

As always, your gaze wandered through the sea of swaying and jaunting bodies, seeking out the strapping frame of the man you had become familiar with recently. You had grown fond of him over the many moons you had spent under his tutelage, far too fond, you realised. It was not long before you found him, mingling amongst a group of the other mentors.

Neteyam was laughing heartily among them, nursing his own vessel of alcohol. His smile was dashing, and his laughter was like music to your ears, warming the cockles of your heart and setting it aflame. You felt your own lips pull into a diffident smile of your own at the sight of him. He was so beautiful; both inside as well as out.

You remembered being mortified at first when he had been assigned as your replacement mentor. It had happened not long after his family had returned to the clan following the Long War.

The return of Toruk Makto and his family had been greatly celebrated; the return of their beloved olo’eyktan and the return of Neteyam as his successor. Neteyam had always been handsome, even in his youth. You recalled the silly girlhood crush you had harboured for him, a boy several years older than yourself who took not much notice of you, although he had always been kind in the few interactions you had shared.

Neteyam had returned to the clan even more striking now that he had grown into a man, with the toned musculature of a warriors’ body that made even the most reserved of women think unchaste things. You were guilty of this too.

So, imagine your horror when tsahìk Mo’at had pronounced that Neteyam would take over training you for your second attempt at your rites. Great. Just what you needed; more self-conscious pressure…

You had not done well under Rini’s instruction. Rini was one of the best young warriors in the clan, but she had found your lack of confidence frustrating and your timid nature more annoying than endearing. She had been impatient and exasperated as a result, the entire ordeal culminating in the shame of your first unsuccessful attempt at Iknimaya. You had not been injured, but you had failed because none of the ikran had challenged you and you had made no further attempt to tame one.

The decision for Neteyam to replace Rini had shocked you and it had made no sense. Even thinking back now, it still made no sense. Great Mother, why would anyone devote the time of the future olo’eyktan to the training of an inconsequential young woman?

Nevertheless, Mo’at’s decision had proven to be beneficial to your learning. You put it down to Neteyam more so than yourself. You were still the same old you; bashful, uncertain and reluctant to cause things harm, even if it was hunting wild game for the clan’s sustenance. Neteyam just had a way about him; he was unassuming and patient, and he had made you feel at ease with him.

The lively swell of the music around you faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you once more. The memory of your first meeting with Neteyam floated into the forefront of your mind…

*** FLASHBACK ***

“Tsahìk, I think the yalnabark tincture is done brewing. I’ve taken it off the fire for now or the mixture might scorch at the bottom.” You called out assuredly. If there was one thing in life you knew you were good at, it was the art of healing.

Mo’at reappeared from around the partition in the healers’ hut, crouching down to test the consistency of the tincture in the pot by stirring it gently with a wooden ladle. The viscous fluid bubbled gently and you knew it would cool eventually to form the thick salve you were used to slathering on cuts and wounds.

The tsahìk sniffed the wafting fumes before settling appraising gold eyes on you. She smiled and the expression made the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkle with warmth, “Well done, child. It’s the perfect consistency.”

Beaming at the praise you received, you settled the pot to the side to cool and began gathering your things to clean up for the day. Eclipse was fast approaching and the light of day was fading fast. Quietly, you wondered to yourself why you could not just carry on as you were, learning from Mo’at and assisting her with the sick and injured from day to day.

You were born to help people; to heal them and give them comfort in difficult times. Hunting and learning to spar with knives and spears were the farthest things away from your proficiencies.

“You are thinking so loudly I can hear your thoughts.” Mo’at hummed, her lips forming a wry grin.

“I just don’t understand why I have to train and pass Iknimaya. I’ll never be a hunter or a warrior. Can’t I just learn from you and be a healer for the rest of my life?”

Mo’at fixed you with an astute gaze and she narrowed her eyes at you, “You can and will be a great healer, Seyla. But Iknimaya is a rite of passage that all Omatikaya individuals must pass. You need to tame an ikran or how will you travel? You’ll never fly otherwise and you are too grown now to be a pillion passenger on another’s ikran.”

With a resigned huff, you slung your pouch across your torso, preparing to depart for the evening when Mo’at called out to you again.

“Just stay back for a while today. I told Neteyam to meet you here at eclipse. I figured it would be good for the two of you to reacquaint yourselves with each other a bit before you he starts your training tomorrow.”

Self-conscious flutters erupted in your belly.

Of course, you knew you would be spending a lot of time with Neteyam in the coming while since he would be mentoring you, but the timid part of you had thought you would not need to deal with your nerves around this until tomorrow. You did what was requested of you nonetheless.

Neteyam was prompt, stepping into the healers’ hut within moments of eclipse’s onset. Your heart had been racing steadily behind your sternum in anxious anticipation, but the sight of him made it skip a few beats. Eywa help you, he was so attractive… How were you ever going to be able to concentrate on your learnings being mentored by him?

You immediately rose to your feet from where you were knelt out of respect at his arrival. Dipping your knees slightly and with a bow of your head, you greeted him, “Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam. My name is-”

Neteyam interrupted you before you could finish, “Seyla. Yes, I know. I remember you.”

Your head snapped up in surprise at his words. His smile was kind and his eyes gentle as he regarded you and you blinked, lost for words, for several moments before you found them again, “Oh, you do? We never really spoke much.”

You were six years his junior. Too young to have been in any of the social circles Neteyam had made his way around in. Any interactions you had shared were fleeting and often just greetings in passing. He was as good as the crown prince of the clan, so naturally you had known who he was. It would not have been unfair though to assume, especially with your quiet nature, that he did not notice you.

A jovial grin danced across Neteyam’s lips, the tips of his canines peaking charmingly out from his behind his upper lip, “The girl with the pretty braids. Though I see you don’t wear them as long anymore.”

The peal of laughter that bubbled up from within you was involuntary, sparked by pure delight at the realisation that he did indeed remember you. You had worn your hair much longer as a girl, your tresses trailing in luscious locks down to your hips. Your hair had been one of the beautiful things about you, and you and your mother had spent countless hours crafting new beads and braiding them into your hair in intricate styles. The length had unfortunately become inconvenient as you grew older, so the ends of your braids were now lopped shorter to brush the small of your back.

A flush heated your cheeks under his scrutiny and your laughter died down. Clearing your throat clumsily, you nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.”

A hoarse chortle emanated from behind you and you remembered Mo’at was still present. Her husky voice piped up, her eyes twinkling with some enigmatic reason in their depths, “You need to look after this one, Neteyam. Her hands work miracles with the ill and injured. She is gifted with healing, both physical and spiritual. And you of all people should understand how exceptional that is.”

The tsahìk’s words were high praise and you felt the flush on your face intensify. Her words reminded you suddenly of the reason for your meeting with Neteyam in the first place though, and you quickly added, “I will work hard as your trainee. I’m not particularly athletic or strong, but I’ll always try my best. I don’t wait to fail again and I don’t want to bring you shame as my mentor, so I’ll pass my rites or die trying.”

Neteyam appeared taken aback by the candour with which you spoke and the severity of your tone. He gave a slow cock of his head to the side, his eyes calculating while you fought hard not to squirm at his silent assessment.

His assessing gaze only lasted several moments before the comfortable warmth of his usual expression returned. His voice was benevolent when he spoke, “No one is going to die trying anything. We will go at your pace. I may push you at times, but if it gets too much, you are at every right to voice this to me.”

Neteyam’s words were a reassurance and the thundering of your heart began to subside. Mustering up what little dregs of courage you possessed from within yourself, you lifted your head to peer into his eyes and found them void of any judgement. Their green-gold depths were open and sincere, and you perceived also a silent promise of security in them.

The lump forming in your throat hindered you from finding your word, however, and your response to Neteyam was a mute nod.

He spoke again then, the baritone of his voice rumbling delightfully through you, “I swear to you as your mentor that I will keep you safe. Your safety is my priority and you will have the protection of my body too if need be.”

Neteyam’s masculine pledge of security made parts of you squeeze in feminine appreciation, and you berated yourself internally for letting his appeal distract you.

 You watched as he extended a hand out to you and you placed your hand in his to shake it, only to feel him raise the back of it to his lips instead in a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

A stray ember spat from the bonfire and sailed through the air towards you. You hissed and slapped at your arm where the ember made blistering contact with your bare skin. The heat of the fire suddenly felt stifling and you got to your feet, intent on heading somewhere quieter where you could be alone with your thoughts.

Great Mother, you missed him already. You were going to miss him so much.

Feminine laughter reached you and the points of your ears swivelled in that direction, your eyes following suit a moment later. You spotted one of the female warriors, Penina, giggling while she clasped on to Neteyam’s forearm as the troupe of warriors continued in their conversation. She raised herself onto the balls of her feet to whisper something in his ear before she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Neteyam turned his head and gave Penina a sly smile in response.

You turned away quickly, not wanting to witness anything more. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it.

A sharp stab of sadness pricked in your chest and you silently chastised yourself for being so foolish. Neteyam was the future olo’eyktan for goodness sake. He had his pick of the females and he could court who he liked. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company.

Looking around you, you saw that everyone else was engrossed in their carousing and it allowed you slip away unhindered. Padding towards the appealing tranquillity of the woodland glade that surrounded the clan’s new Hometree, you found yourself a patch of soft moss amongst the bioluminescent eyaye ferns and settled yourself there.

Taking deep breaths through your nostrils, you closed your eyes and surrendered yourself to the sounds of the night; the soft pattering of water from the nearby cascades; the chirruping of insects and the occasional calls of a troop of syaksyuk in the lush canopy overhead. Beating back the soreness in your heart, you willed yourself to pray to the Great Mother, to be grateful and thankful for your achievement.

However, your mind did not appear to want to co-operate and the painful image of Penina kissing Neteyam’s cheek flashed through your consciousness again.

Being mentored by Neteyam was both your greatest blessing and your greatest curse.

After that first meeting with Neteyam, you had only gone from strength to strength under his guidance. He was a kind but firm tutor who held an unwavering belief in your abilities, despite the fact that you did not share that same confidence. He pushed you to your limits, but never beyond them and like any good mentor, he knew when to reward you with praise and when to be more critical.

You should have known you were a lost cause from the moment he had sworn to protect you during that first meeting. You should have been more careful. You should have guarded your heart with the constant reminder that he was not yours and never would be no matter how much you felt drawn to him during your lessons.

*** FLASHBACK ***

Neteyam stood at your back, his stance almost a mirror of yours as he adjusted your shooting form; legs positioned firmly apart, back straight with a strong core, bowstring drawn as you took aim at the target in the distance between the thick trunks of the trees. Your aim and accuracy had strengthened considerably in the weeks training under Neteyam. Tomorrow, you would attempt again the first rite of making a clean kill.

It was difficult to concentrate when you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him and feel his warm breaths tickling the point of one of your ears. The heat of one of his hands seared against the skin of your hip as he steadied you and the fingertips of his other hand supported the wrist of your bow arm. Unable to take your eyes off the target to confirm your suspicion for yourself, you also swore to the Great Mother that the tuft of his tail was delicately caressing the calf of your back leg.

“Whenever you’re ready, loose the arrow.” Neteyam whispered, and the purr of his voice sent a shudder through you that you hoped he did not notice.

Target in focus, you narrowed your eyes and when the instinctive urge hit, you let your arrow fly. It hurtled through the trees to embed itself dead centre of the mounted target amongst your previous attempts. The thrill of success washed through you once more and you gave a little skip on the spot in celebration.

“Seysonìltsan (well done)!” Neteyam cheered, looping an arm around your waist and pressing his cheek to yours in an affectionate nuzzle that made your face and neck flush, “You’re all set for tomorrow. You’re going to be just fine.”

Your initial joy at your success with target practice soon clouded over when you contemplated the final part of making a clean kill: A dagger through the creature’s heart to return its soul to Eywa; the part that you had failed to complete on your own during your first attempt. Rini had been forced to end the creature’s life for you.

The sound of the yerik’s pained, bleating cries still haunted your ears to this day. You had felt rotten being responsible for the arrow that had impaled its side. You had not wanted to cause it anymore pain…

Sensing the change in your mood, Neteyam ran a gentle hand down your side, “Hey, come back to me. What are you thinking about?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, ears twitching, your nervous eyes flitted to his, “Did Rini tell you why I failed this rite last time?”

A frown marred his handsome face and he shook his head, his concern evident as he snaked an arm around your shoulders to pull you against his side.

The soothing strokes of his thumb against your upper arm coaxed you to continue, “My arrow’s aim was true and I managed to impale the yerik. But I couldn’t end its life with my dagger. I don’t like to hurt things. It was in pain and all I wanted to do was make the pain stop. Of course, the pain would’ve stopped once I ended its life but the thought of stabbing it was too much for me to bear. Rini had to do it in the end. I was too weak to.”

Your last words were uttered with all the dejection that you felt and the tears of your shame stung in your downcast eyes. Something so simple, so natural in the cycle of life that all creatures shared in the Great Mother, and you could not do it. You were weak.

You felt warm fingers grasp your chin gently and your face was tilted up to meet Neteyam’s. Your eyes remained shuttered, however, and you cursed the two fat tears that squeezed their way from behind your closed lids to roll down your cheeks.

“Seyla, look at me.” Neteyam implored you, and it was only the sheer tenderness in his tone that made you brave enough to obey. Your breath was stolen from you as you met his striking eyes and his expression was full of compassion, “You’re not weak for finding it difficult to end a life. Your calling is to heal, to restore life even in the direst of circumstances when all seems lost. There is great strength in that. Empathy is not weakness. You have a big heart and I don’t want to hear you call yourself weak ever again.”

Swiping your tears from your face with the back of one hand, you sniffled softly and nodded. But your chin wobbled along with your voice as you posed your question, “What if I can’t do it tomorrow? What if I fail again?”

“Then I’ll guide your hand and we’ll do it together. And after you’ve completed your rites, you’ll never have to hunt again if you don’t want to.”

*** FLASHBACK END ***

And he had guided your hand in the end.

Neteyam’s bigger hand had enveloped yours to steady its trembling amid the bleating cries of the yerik you had felled, and he had given you the strength, the driving force that you needed, to complete your first rite.

Afterward, your adrenalin and your distress had all come to a head and he had held you in his arms where you were both crouched, comforting you as you cried.

That had been the first of your successful firsts, as you called them, and Neteyam had been there every single step of the way after that. Your first kill; your first climb to Iknimaya where you successfully tamed your ikran; your first flight; your first talioang hunt; and your first Dream Hunt. It was always his eyes that you sought out first at the end of each achievement, and your heart had always soared to find his gaze waiting to receive yours.

You were not even aware of it at first, that your heart no longer beat inside the confines of your chest. Then one day as Neteyam had graced you with another one of his magnetic smiles, you realised that your heart now beat in the hold of his hands. He had swindled it from you without you even knowing it and now it was too late to get it back.

Today had been the first day in many moons – almost seven – that you did not arise in the morning and head out to meet Neteyam. You were one of the people now. There was no more training to be had and you had felt the loss of his presence keenly during the day today.

You had thanked Neteyam last night, for all his guidance and perseverance that had led to your success. You had been weary from the exertion of your Dream Hunt, your mind still foggy from the psychoactive effects of the glow worm one had to consume as part of the rite. However, you remembered murmuring your thanks to him and falling asleep against the blissful warmth of his chest as he had carried you home to your family’s alcove.

He must feel it too… You thought to yourself. That magnetism that pushed and pulled between the two of you, surely it was not simply one-sided on your part?

Neteyam had never said anything, had never given any indication to you of wanting to address the bond that had grown between the two of you. All the smiles, the embraces, the tender nuzzles, the deliberate touches and the gentle brushing of his fingers against your skin; all the almost kisses; had you imagined it all? Did your lovesick brain infer more than there actually was to all of it?

“What are you doing here?”

The voice at your back startled you out of your skin and you jumped with an unintentional yelp.

Neteyam’s deep laughter reverberated loudly in the serenity of the glade around you and you turned to swat at the calf of one of his legs, your tail lashing crossly behind you at being alarmed. He moved to settle himself on the moss next to you and you shuffled over to make room for him where the moss was its plushest.

“What have I always told you about watching your back?” Neteyam clucked playfully, reaching out to poke you in the ribs lightly.

You recoiled from the ticklish jab, unable to stop the giggle that escaped you despite the frown you still wore due to his previous action, “I don’t really think anything dangerous will sneak up on me whilst I’m on home-ground. So you’ll forgive me, karyu (teacher), for letting my guard down.”

“You don’t think I’m dangerous?” There was a mischievous glint in Neteyam’s eyes and his tone was cheeky as he regarded you.

Oh, you knew Neteyam could be dangerous with his imposing stature and warriors’ body, corded with powerful muscle that guaranteed brute strength in a wrestling match, and promised carnal delight for a woman caged within his hold in a very different kind of match. The explicit nature of your last thought surprised you and you hoped the furious blush staining your cheeks was not obvious in the dim light of eclipse.

“Seriously though, I know you’re not one for crowds and carousing, but what are you doing hiding out here?” Neteyam queried again, and sincerity coloured his tone this time.

“Everything just got a bit much. And I’m still tired from yesterday, I think. I just wanted somewhere quiet to reflect.” You muttered softly.

The familiar musk of his scent tantalised your nose and you took a discreet inhale, savouring the comfort it brought you while you also tried simultaneously to embed it into the deepest recesses of your memory. You were not going to be around Neteyam much anymore. You had healers’ duties to attend to and he had duties as future clan leader to attend to. That certainly made for quite a lot of distance.

Another twinge of sadness pulled at you and you kept your gaze on your folded knees, unable to look at him. Wanting to deflect and distract yourself from the sombre mood that was threatening to overwhelm you, you parroted his first question back at him, “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back with the others, enjoying the party? You seemed to be quite engaged with the warriors before.”

“I saw you sneak away and I figured I’d check in with you. This is technically your party after all, to celebrate your rebirth. You sure you don’t want to head back out there? There are quite a few people who want to congratulate you.” Neteyam cajoled.

“Not right now. I’ll come back in a bit. You go on though. I’m OK, you’ve seen that no danger has befallen me.” Your attempt to be jovial fell flat even to your own ears and you felt Neteyam shift beside you, lowering his head to try and catch your eye.

“Seyla, what’s wrong? You’re upset. Has someone said something to you tonight? Hurt you? Tell me what happened and I’ll deal with them.”

Neteyam’s concern and immediate oath to defend you was moving. It was wonderful to know he still cared deeply for you despite the conclusion of your mentor-mentee relationship. His devotion to the people he cared about was one of the many things you loved about him.

Great Mother, you loved him. You were in love with him.

The sentiment threatened to choke you and you swallowed it down painfully. You were determined to keep your composure. You did not want to cry tonight in front of Neteyam, not when it was a night of celebration for you as well as for him as your mentor. You would look like an absolute ingrate and you were not about to admit to him the real reason for your melancholy either.

“Nothing untoward has happened. No one has said anything or done anything.” The words were forced from your throat and you realised with mounting horror that you were failing miserably at trying to sound normal. Your voice was unsteady and unbidden tears were pooling in your eyes.

Neteyam’s brow furrowed uneasily at your apparent distress and he shifted to face you. His large hands encircled each of your upper arms, rubbing gently in an attempt to mollify whatever turmoil you clearly felt but seemed reluctant to tell him of. “Shh it’s alright, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you know you can tell me anything, right?”

A choked sob left you and you pawed in frustration at your wet eyes, lying through your teeth, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired and out of sorts. That glow worm really did a number on me.” You pushed at his forearms gently, faking a smile and urging him to return to the merriment of the party, “Go, honestly. Don’t let me ruin your evening.”

Neteyam appeared utterly unconvinced, which was testament to how well he had come to know you; how easily he could read you. He fidgeted uncomfortably then and you mused to yourself how uncharacteristic that was of him when he was usually so self-assured.

He took a slow and measured inhale, one of his hands leaving you to scratch nervously at the back of his head, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Something important.”

The downturned points of your ears pricked upwards with interest, his last two words piquing your curiosity, “What is it? Is it bad news?”

By Eywa, please let it not be bad news. What could be so important that he needed to speak to you right now?

Neteyam took in your worried expression, your beautiful doe-eyes shiny with emotion, and he chuckled lightly, “No, it’s not bad news. Well, it could be bad news for me, but that depends on your viewpoint on the matter.”

“What do you mean?” You queried and you both watched and felt as he took your smaller hands in his, his fingers squeezing and rubbing your palms gently comfortingly.

Licking his lips and swallowing the knot of nerves in his throat, Neteyam began to explain slowly, “You know my position within the clan as my father’s successor.”

“Yes.”

“You know that I will lead this clan as olo’eyktan when my father’s time in that position ends.”

“Yes.”

“Well, every olo’eyktan needs a tsahìk.”

You blinked perplexedly up at him. His three statements appeared rather matter-of-fact and ‘old news’ to you. It was nothing you did not know and nothing you were not already aware of. You were quite puzzled as to why Neteyam was bringing this up now. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m following you. I know all this already.”

A nervous chuckle left Neteyam then and he ran a hand down his face. He knew he was being cryptic and it was the result of his own nerves that caused him to be so. He could see you had no idea where he was going with this and he took the opportunity to tease one last time, “Have you never wondered why I was assigned as your mentor?”

You perked up at the question. Ah! This question you could relate to, “Yes! I wonder about this all the time actually. There are many other skilled hunters or warriors who could’ve trained me. I don’t understand why they designated you. Surely your skills would’ve been better used elsewhere.”

“It was my grandmother’s decision specifically. As tsahìk, she interprets the will of our Great Mother. She determines the best candidates for the future leaders of this clan.” Neteyam continued, his tone measured and he watched carefully for your reaction while you took in his words, “Seyla, you were her choice of tsakarem (future tsahìk). Of course, it was all dependent on you passing your rites, which is why no one could tell you this fact. Not even me. She assigned me as your mentor not just because of my skills, but because she wanted to see if we would get along.”

“W-What?” Your heart was galloping in your chest, your brain reeling as it tried to process the information you had just been enlightened about.

“It was such a hard secret for me to keep.” Neteyam appeared a little sheepish then and he chortled, bringing both of your hands up to his lips to press several kisses to your knuckles, “Your heart is so pure and you’re so beautiful. I grew fonder and fonder of you the more I got to know you. I wanted you to pass your rites and I knew you would with time if I could build your confidence. Now you have, and I’m so proud of you.”

A sudden burst of clarity struck you as Neteyam’s words began to sink in. Everything that had not made sense before made perfect sense now: The reason the future olo’eyktan of all people had been assigned to mentor you; the reason Neteyam had been so forward with his affection during your training; the reason Mo’at had always been so welcoming towards you learning from her, despite the unofficial mantle you had once held for so long as the ‘flop’ of the clan who may never pass your rites. There had been a bigger picture all along.

“Your grandmother wants me to be your tsahìk?”

Neteyam nodded and he reached out to cup your cheek, “Yes, if you’ll accept the position and accept me as your betrothed.”

Something dazzling white and wonderfully warm pierced through the cloud of your melancholy. You looked at Neteyam’s face, really looked at him and at the future he was presenting you with. You, tsakarem! Neteyam’s betrothed and future mate. You would stand at his side, tsahìk and olo’eyktan…

It was such an about-turn of events from what you felt moments ago that you could hardly believe it. But the sheer joy that burst within your heart was so welcome and in that moment, all was right with the world. It felt like the misshapen pieces of your wounded pride that had taken a beating after your past failures had reshaped themselves and found their place.

Beaming at Neteyam through glassy eyes that were now filling with happy tears, you laughed and the sound was bright in your ears.

Neteyam leaned in to nuzzle your cheek tenderly, his warm breath ghosting across the smooth skin there, “Please say you’ll accept and be mine. You are gifted and blessed by Eywa, and it would be an honour to have you as my tsahìk.”

“Yes. Yes, I accept.” Your giggles were wet and your arms instinctively curled around Neteyam’s neck as he lifted you in his arms to your knees in a triumphant embrace.

Neteyam drew back then, his face mere inches from yours. He nuzzled your nose lightly, “May I kiss you?”

With parted lips and a bashful nod, you absently thought to yourself that you were yet again about to experience another one of your firsts with Neteyam. Your first kiss.

His lips met yours in a tentative meld at first, the moist brush of lips an entirely new sensation to you. Neteyam pressed forward again after, claiming your lips this time in a deliberate sweep of lips and tongue that stole your breath from you and sent a spark of desire coursing through your veins.

Your earlier melancholy seemed lightyears away now in the face of what had just happened, and your heart sighed in contentment at the uplifting of its grief that had come with Neteyam’s declaration.

Not wanting to scare you with his fervent ardour, Neteyam pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “By Eywa, you don’t know how long I have wanted to do that.”

“I see you, Neteyam.”

“I see you, yawntu (beloved).” He returned the sentiment, smiling as he delivered a couple more chaste kisses. He sat back on his haunches then to properly look at you, his expression turning serious then, “Will you tell me why were you upset before? I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

Rolling your lips together in mild embarrassment, you outed the truthful answer to his question, “I was sad that I wouldn’t see you every day anymore. I was missing you. But it seems I don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

Several emotions flitted their way across Neteyam’s face; surprise, compassion and then satisfaction. With a wayward smirk, he purred, “Our daytimes may be spent apart now, but our evenings, well, we’ll have to fill those, won’t we? I’m looking forward to getting to know my betrothed in a more personal manner.”

Neteyam surged forward to kiss you again, more forcefully this time, and your head craned backward under the pleasurable plundering of his mouth. You moaned lightly and when a mistimed re-angling of your head caused your teeth to clack against his, you pulled away self-consciously with an apology, “Sorry, I’m new to this. Looks like you’re still going to have to teach me, karyu.”

The impish grin that Neteyam cast you sent hot shivers down your spine and his eyes glinted with the promise of the best kind of wickedness. He placed slow kisses to your face; one to your chin, one to your mouth and then to each of your eyes before he murmued, “Oh, there is so much that I plan to teach you, yawntu. And we have a lifetime to explore all that.”

He punctuated his words with a searing, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck and the suction he applied there made your toes curl into the plush moss beneath you.

With your eyes closed and your mouth slack-jawed from the pleasure his lips were wreaking where he worshipped your neck and chest, you knew without a doubt that today was just the beginning of the first of many firsts with Neteyam.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*** Author's Note:

If you've made it this far, THANK YOU for reading! <3 How did I do with this? It was very tricky to write at points, as I had to be mindful of the POV and the pronoun usage.

Leave me a line with your thoughts! <3 Could you relate to the protagonist in this? Did you feel what she felt? All the angst, her shyness, the fluff at the end...

On a side note, I love Mo'at always playing matchmaker. I always seem to write her with some cheek in her personality.

Want more Neteyam & Seyla? Check out Part II below which has a very steamy spice-extension. ;) Next Chapter: Part II - I Like Your Stars Better

[thornsnvultures]

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader, 18+

a little drabble loosely based on this text post cause I was having a feeling-bad-about-my-body day and I know eddie would be having absolutely none of that ♡

---

Thick, ringed fingers holding you, pressing into where your tummy dips and fold and rolls. Your legs are spread wide, Eddie's thighs holding yours open, leaving you exposed, bared completely to the mirror in front of you. It's hard to look at first, your head turning into the soft curls at his neck, hiding from your reflection.

"Uh-uh. Look, baby. Look'it how she opens up for me."

It took a long time, learning how not to hate yourself. Learning that everything you hated about you was the opinion of someone who didn't love you, didn't care. It took a long time to look in the mirror and be okay, to accept. Not always celebrating, or loving, but sometimes admiring, appreciating. Understanding that your body didn't hold the entirety of your worth.

And Eddie did enough loving for the both of you anyway.

For a while you stayed away from skinny boys like him, afraid they'd do more damage to all that hard work. But Eddie... there was something different about him. You knew it right away. He wasn't ashamed to be seen with you, wasn't asking you to stay the night only to pretend like he didn't know who you were in front of his friends. He worshipped you, fully worshipped you properly. That can't keep his hands off you, needs you by his side 24/7, thinks you've hung the moon kind of worship.

It was intense at first. You thought he'd get tired of you, move on in a week or two have his fun until something better came along. But it's been months, years of him loving you like no one else has before and, no matter your own reservations about your body, you believe him when he tells you, when he shows you just how much.

His thick fingers delve into your core, a reward for finally looking back at your reflection. The sopping wet center of you wets his winding fingers, the sound obscene as he makes tight circles around your clit.

"The prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

You want to tease, to ask just how many he's seen to make that claim, but you can't form words with the way he's jackhammering his thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

"That's it, princess. Making such a mess for me."

Eddie presses kisses to your temple, down your soft jawline. You stare with rapt attention, jaw practically hanging to the floor and eyes glazed, hazy but laser focused on the ring of your creamy juices around Eddie's knuckles.

His fingers curl into the roof of your cunt, pushing, searching for your release like he needs it more than you do. He's begging in your ear for you to give it to him.

"Show me, princess. Shhhh, I got you," his other hand moves to your clit to work the aching nub when you whine, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Give it to me. Want you to see yourself cum. You're so pretty when you cum on my cock."

Your thighs tense and shake at the mention of his cock and you're bombarded with images of him bending you over in front of this mirror, his fat cock stuffed in your cunt to the base and before you can catch your breath you're screaming, clenching down on his fingers and wailing like a cat in heat. Your eyes never leave your sweaty, heaving body in the mirror. Full breats shuddering, shaking as you gasp for air. Your tummy clenching against Eddie's arm pressed to your middle, holding you tight.

"That's it. Fuck, that's it, baby."

Eddie drags his fingers from your pussy, pulsing and grasping for his fingers, begging them not to leave.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, watching you watching him with his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Did so good for me, princess. So good, so beautiful."

[dawnoftime22]

peanut butter.

| N.R

Warnings: None

Summary: Nat was having one of her sleepless nights as she enjoyed her peanut butter, but little did she know, you were awake too.

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

A/N: soooo, I've been writing for a while now, and all of my work has basically only been accessible to me. I've decided it's time for me to come out of my shell and post some of them, just because it might actually be fun and not as scary as I thought it would be, so this'll be the first fic that I'm posting. I hope you enjoy! <3

| Started on 27/02/2023, 2:45 PM |

| Finished on 07/03/2023, 5:44 PM |

“In these quiet nights, I found you.”

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It was 3:48 AM.

A redhead sat at an island in the middle of the dark kitchen. The streetlights outside were the only source of light streaming in from a nearby window.

It was nothing short of the usual now. She's had many sleepless nights, and this was one of them.

Natasha opens a jar of peanut butter, doing her best to be quiet as she sets the lid down gently on the island.

She then grabs a spoon, dipping it in the peanut butter to grab a scoop of it out, only for it to go straight into her mouth.

But with the small creak of the hardwood floor, and the soft padding of footsteps growing nearer towards her, she was alerted to look up.

Only to see you in your sleepy state, rubbing an eye, with your messy hair. But she didn't move an inch after she saw you. Either frozen from staring at you in your cute state, or that she didn't want you to notice her. You'd guess both.

"Nat?" You called out. You can see her shadowy figure, and the light making her orange hair glow just a little brighter in the dark, but your mind was filled with fog of being half asleep, so you wanted confirmation on whether you were seeing things or it was actually just your girlfriend.

Your hand went over to the light switch, turning on the dim lighting so you're not blinded like a flashbomb had hit you from the white lights. The orange lights covered the place with warmth, finally letting you see properly.

There, where the figure was, is someone you had correctly guessed it would be. Nat was sat holding the peanut butter jar, while a spoon was in her mouth. You could melt when you realised how adorable she looked.

Slowly, Nat takes the spoon out of her mouth, her cheeks going slightly red at the situation of her getting caught. Eating peanut butter in the kitchen. In the middle of the night.

"Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?" she smiled sheepishly, leaving the spoon in the jar and placing it on the island.

You sighed, but returned her smile weakly. "No... I just... randomly wake up sometimes." You weren't looking in her eyes, and your lips pursed. "Sleep isn't easy to get."

Her smile faded into a look of concern. It was honest. Your eyes then drifted back to her, and that was when she could see the slight eyebags on your face. Her heart ached a little when she realised you weren't getting enough sleep.

She searched your eyes for the emotions that you might have hidden from her. She could see a little hesitation, maybe to ask a question. But you didn't in the seconds that you could. Her head tilted when she looked at you with a now softer gaze.

She nodded her head tiltedly towards the peanut butter beside her. "Wanna join me then?"

Your eyes traveled to the jar, and your lips turned up slightly. "I'd love to." She smiled crookedly in her own little way as she watched you grab another spoon to share with her.

You sat down on the barstool next to her, grabbing ahold of the jar to slide it closer to you, and you scooped up the peanut butter to eat it by itself too.

When you felt her gaze just in your blurred vision that was more focused on the peanut butter, you look up, seeing her beautiful forest green eyes.

You both just sat and stared at each other lovingly. Could it be just because of the late night minds the two of you have that was super sleep deprived? Or the peanut butter having had some sort of love potion spilt into it? But it was neither. Just simply because of how much you adored her and how much she adored you, and loved every part of you.

You could do this for hours.

Sitting and admiring.

If it was anything related to her, you'd do anything for her. Even if it was in silence just like this moment.

She took a breath in, looking down for a second at her fingers, which were fiddling with each other. Then, she let the breath out, and tilted her head back up. "Why didn't you tell me you're not getting enough sleep?"

You slid the peanut butter jar back over to her, wanting to take turns on eating it. You took a second before replying. "I didn't want to burden you when you already have sleeping problems yourself."

She was about to grab her spoon out, but it instead lingered there with her hand. She looked at you when you said your sentence, and you could see how her eyes pinched slightly with sadness. "Детка, you wouldn't burden me at all." She shook her head.

"If anything your presence makes my night better." At that, you smiled. She'd always be here for you no matter the situation. And you'd do the same. The redhead ate the peanut butter before passing it back to you. It was like a game of who'll finish the peanut butter first at this point. You sat thinking about something.

"Hey, just so you know, you didn't tell me either. I thought you were finally starting to get the sleep you need." You take the chance to eat another scoop of peanut butter, but your voice had a hint of concern in it. Nat only looked at the marble island when you said that.

"I guess we both worry about similar things." She tilted her head to focus on you once more. You understood, because not only did you have similar thoughts, you knew why Natasha couldn't sleep through her late nights.

"Let's just maybe... not keep secrets from each other?" You suggested, your eyes twinkling in the dimly lit kitchen while she stared at you for a bit, before an adorable smile comes up on her face.

"No matter what?" You added, your hand sat atop the island, your pinky finger sticking out, making her huff out a small laugh, but her hand went up to intertwine her pinky finger with yours anyway. Maybe it was the sleepiness getting to her, but her heart told her to do it.

"No matter what."

—————————————————————— <3

tagging: @notevenanna

[sonics-atelier]

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

Based this post by @staryukis

Cw : MNDI , sexting , female reader x gojo , Masturbation , Fingering , gojo being a flirt .

Authors notes : Hello people of the jjk fandom, this is my first time writing for gojo so please be kind and let me know if you liked it, stay happy everyone <33

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the only sound the rhythmic tapping of fingers on screens. Each text Satoru sent was more risqué than the last, the words weaving a spell that held them both captive. You lay in bed, biting your lip, your body reacting to his messages in ways that were impossible to ignore. You could almost hear his smirk in every response, feel the tension building between you with each suggestive word.

Your phone buzzed again, and you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together aching for friction as you read his latest text. "I can't stop thinking about the way you looked in that dress tonight. It took everything in me not to pull you into a dark corner and have my way with you."

A shiver ran down your spine, your fingers hovering over the keys as you formulated your response. "And what exactly would you have done to me in that dark corner?" you typed, your breath hitching at the thought of that enticing body of his. You hit send, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Satoru's reply was almost immediate. "I'd start by pressing you up against the wall, my hands exploring every inch of your body. My lips would follow, tracing a path down your neck, to your collarbone, lower and then some ..."

You swallowed hard, your imagination running wild with his vivid descriptions. The ache between your legs grew more insistent, your body craving the touch his words promised.

You glanced at the time, realizing you'd been exchanging these heated texts for over an hour. You could picture him on the other end, probably just as worked up as you were.

His next message confirmed it. "I can barely think straight right now. I've been palming my hard on for the last 20 minutes, just imagining what I'd do to you, or even better, let you do to me."

Your breath hitched again, your own arousal almost unbearable, fueled even more at the visage of him, head thrown back, neck exposed while his hands work thumbing the viens, elicting the most melodious moans.

You could practically hear his voice in your head, each moan and gasp driving you wild. The heat pooled between your legs, and you couldn't resist the urge any longer. With trembling fingers, you typed out a response. "I wish I was there right now, feeling every inch of you. Tell me exactly what you'd do to me."

As you sent the message, your free hand slipped under the waistband of your panties, seeking out your own arousal. The slickness there was undeniable, and you shivered at the touch. Your mind was filled with images of Satoru, his body reacting to your touch, his fingers on you, and his hard length ready for you.

His reply came almost instantly. "I'd start by kissing you slowly, letting my hands roam over your body, teasing you until you're begging for more. Then I'd slide my fingers inside you, feeling how wet you are for me, curling them just right to make you moan my name again and again."

You whimpered, your fingers mimicking his words, sliding inside yourself, curling to hit that sweet spot. The sensation was almost too much, but you craved more. "I'm so wet thinking about you," you texted back, your breath coming in short gasps. "I need you so badly."

His response was even more explicit, detailing exactly how he would take you, the rhythm of his thrusts, the way he would watch your face as you came apart for him. Each word sent a jolt of pleasure through you, pushing you closer to the edge.

You could feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with every stroke of your fingers. The thought of Satoru watching you, hearing your moans, and knowing he was the cause, drove you wild. Your hips bucked against your hand, and you couldn't hold back the sounds escaping your lips.

"I'm so close," you typed, your hands shaking.

"Come for me," his message urged, and that was all it took. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your fingers slowed, drawing out the sensation, until you finally lay there, breathless and satisfied.

You stared at your phone, a mix of exhilaration and vulnerability washing over you. "I wish you were here," you sent, your heart pounding.

He replied with a winking emoji "One day soon, I'll make sure you feel everything I'm promising you." With one last glance at your phone, you set it aside, your body thrumming with desire imagining what it would be like to have Satoru with you, his touch real and his promises fulfilled. The thought was enough to keep you warm through the night . Perhaps a cold shower was in order, or two, or three . . .

The next morning, you woke up to the harsh light of day and the reality of your situation. You had plans to meet Satoru for coffee, and the memory of your late-night conversation made your heart race. How were you supposed to act normal around him when you knew how close you'd come to crossing a line neither of you could uncross?

You dressed carefully, opting for a casual yet flattering outfit, something that wouldn't give away just how much you were thinking about last night's texts. When you arrived at the café, Satoru was already there, looking as effortlessly charming as ever damn those striking blue eyes. His grin was boyish, but there was a glint in his eye that made your stomach do gymnastics.

"There's my pretty girl" he said, standing to give you a hug. His touch was salvation, his fingers brushing over your exposed back, almost chaste, but the memory of his words lingered, making your skin tingle.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, You sat down across from him, and for a moment, there was a charged silence, both of you remembering the tension from the night before.

He broke the silence first, his smile turning playful. "Did you dream about me?"

You cocked your head. "I did."

"I did too" he admitted, his eyes darkening slightly. "Couldn't stop thinking about our conversation."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Yeah, me neither."

There was another pause, and then he leaned in slightly, his voice low. "So, about that dark corner..."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. "Satoru, we're in public."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Just checking."

You both ordered your drinks, and as you sipped your coffee, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about mundane things—your work, his latest mission, the book you'd been reading, the movie he wanted to see. But every now and then, your eyes would meet, and the air would thicken with unspoken desire.

"So, I've been thinking about taking up a new hobby," you said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.

"Oh? What kind of hobby?" His eyes sparkled with genuine interest, but there was an underlying heat that made your heart race.

"Maybe painting," you replied. "I've always wanted to try it."

He leaned back, stretching his long very muscular legs under the table. "I can see that. You have an eye for beauty." His gaze traveled over you, making your skin prickle with awareness.

You blushed, taking a sip of your drink to hide your reaction. "Thanks. What about you? Any new interests?"

He shrugged, his shoulders moving with an effortless grace. "I've been thinking about learning to cook. Might be nice to surprise someone with a home-cooked meal."

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Satoru cooking for you. "That sounds amazing. I'd love to try your cooking sometime."

His smile widened, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper."Careful what you wish for. I might hold you to that."

The rest of the coffee date went surprisingly smoothly. You talked about everything and nothing, the easy banter between you soothing the lingering heat from the night before. Yet, beneath the surface, the spark remained, a promise of what could be if either of you were brave enough to take that next step.

As you parted ways, Satoru hugged you again, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You could feel the strength in his arms, the warmth of his body against yours, and it left you pining after more.

"See you tonight?" he asked, warm breath againsnt the shell of your ear, his voice full of unspoken possibilities.

"Definitely," you replied, your heart racing with anticipation, already counting down the hours until your next encounter.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but smile, already thinking about what the night might bring. The game you played was dangerous, but exhilarating. And you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you made the first move, crossing the line between friends and something much more intense.

- @sonics-atelier ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form, I will decapitate you)

[steviewashere]

My Scars are Hiding (My Branches Don't Show)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Suicidal Thoughts, Depression From a Young Age, Depression Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Depressed Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington's Mother is a Sweetheart, Steve's Mom is Depressed, Eddie Munson Has Depression (Implied/Referenced), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Cuddling & Snuggling, They Love Each Other, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington This isn't great, fuck it isn't even good—just not how I usually write. But also, I've been feeling like muddled dog shit and this is the only way I can think to just get it out. So, yeah. It's probably not even all that complete, but it's something. Title is from "Take Me Down Easy" by James Henry Jr.

🫂—————🫂 Still laying in bed. Making marks in the ceiling. Wasting time.

There’s quiet. A gentle rush of wind against his bedroom window. Distant ticks of a grandfather clock he keeps forgetting to dust, a dog barking at something down the driveway, some rustles he can’t quite place. Low hums from the refrigerator. Just easy noise, easier than he’s used to.

His chest weighs. Concave between his pecs, digging in as if something has set itself where it doesn’t belong. Heavy. Too heavy. He takes a breath, but fizzles out with it—nostrils wheezing and mouth dry and his chest just…aching.

When he was little, he’d have days like this. Eight years old and laying down, lost in his bedsheets, eyes melting into his cheekbones, and his stomach hungry for anything. Sometimes, his mom would come in and brush the hair off his forehead, ask him sweet things—“Do you want Mommy to make you a grilled cheese? How about I take you out for some ice cream, huh?”—and those little moments were strange. He’d stare up at her from deep within his own pillowcase. There’d be something in her eyes. Something he couldn’t place then, but thinking of it now, it’s clear she was recognizing a sour part of herself; this sour part of herself now inherited in her only child. She was trying and that was something in its own right.

She hasn’t been home in a while. Off on another trip with his dad, the untrustworthy bastard. Trying to mend her marriage, calm her brain, keep her wit. They talk on the phone; hours long conversations—racking up that bill—passing love you like cold mashed potatoes. Still edible, still digestible, still nourishing even in the blandest way.

The last in-person conversation they had was about shit like this. This day, this feeling. They were sitting across from each other in the living room—him in the recliner, her on the middle cushion of the sofa. Glasses of iced tea on coasters. Television on just to make background noise. She asked him how he was doing. And for once, he didn’t lie. Looked at her. Desperate and honest and aching. He admitted it, this feeling.

And admitted, too, “I’ve been thinking of…what if I…Mom, what if I want to die?”

Silence stretched, much like it does now. The grandfather clock ticking and the gentle rush of wind and the dog and the refrigerator. And then she cried. Scooted closer, opened her arms, held him, and cried. “We’ll fix it. Let’s fix this. Okay, honey? Can’t lose you, you’re my baby.”

He wants her to fix it. Fix this pulsing, aching mass inside his chest—so thick and viscous and bloody. Heavy inside him, working its way through his throat, ready to burble out of his mouth.

Steve takes a breath, quietly gasps with it, but doesn’t move from the mattress.

He was supposed to be up a few minutes ago, already dressed, out the door. Going to Eddie’s home to pick him up. A date.

And yet. Jesus, here he is.

Here he is, melding into his mattress, mouth burbling and chest heaving. What if I want to die?

Time must pass, as it does when he’s like this, and within the distant quiet noises, his bedroom pushes open with subtle squeaks. He peers over and immediately cringes, guilt pooling under that pulsing mass—a blood puddle underneath this rawness. “Eddie,” he murmurs, voice crackling awful like a house on fire, “what’re you doin’ here?”

Eddie stands in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed deep on his face, arms at his sides, fidgeting with the chain on his wallet. “You didn’t…thought we had a date?”

He nods into his pillow. “I know,” Steve whispers, “was about to get up and get ready, promise.”

“You sure?”

Steve swallows rocks. Am I? He blinks and breathes and gasps—quiet still, but treacherous. “Yeah…yeah, Eds. Promise, okay? Just…just need a couple minutes.” His body is still stiff and his whole self aches something fierce, deep in his bones, under the fibers of his muscle. Fuck, can I—

“Did you sleep okay, Steve? You look…you look tired, sweetheart.”

A chuckle escapes him, humorless and awful. “Guess you could say that. Think I just need a few minutes and then I’ll get up.” He blinks at the doorway, Eddie’s timid figure. “You can come in, baby. I promise we’ll go.”

Bed-bound and waxy, Steve remains. This fixture in his bedroom, the way he will be, the place he’ll exist. And in this slimy bubble of self-loathing, of sacrilegious hatred, of suicidal despondency—Eddie encroaches. He settles himself on the edge of Steve’s mattress, barely close, hardly moving. But the bed dips and so he looks on.

Eddie’s face set with…concern and half-recognition. Something balmy in his eyes and his fingers ever tender as they reach across the comforter to trace the parts of Steve’s face that exist as nothing—no emotion, no explanation, just exhaustion. Some grief. He’s breathing slow and steady, easy in comparison to those gasping convulsions Steve keeps doing; a reminder of sorts to keep on because he forgets to do, to be.

He swallows as Eddie’s touch gets heavier. Mouth humid, grotesquely fuzzy, and gamey. The way it is when he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a few days, which is the case—the unfortunate case if they want to get any closer. His scalp tight and heavy from the weight of his unwashed, stringy hair. Malaise jagged in his stomach. There’s a film to him and despite it, Eddie still soothes him with the tips of his fingers.

And soon his palm, as it cups the left side of his face. Thumb running diagonal, then horizontal, then diagonal again in slow smears; as if attempting to work away the imperfections from a clay sculpture.

“Steve?”

He tries a hum, but it’s more of a croak.

“How are you feeling today? Be honest, baby.”

More rocks down his raw esophagus. “Dunno what words to use,” he says, “kinda like I’m not…” His eyes dart over Eddie’s soft, freckled, patient face. Dipping into the dark depths of his irises. Part of his mom is starting right back. “I’m not much of a person, Eds,” he finally murmurs—the words acidic and vile and staining black on his tongue, these horrid things to string together, and yet they come out calm as ever. Nonchalant as they’ve been for more than a decade, even when the words didn’t exist yet, and even when he was tired of defining them.

“Like you’re incomplete?” Eddie asks quietly.

Those careful words, spread across the mattress, cozied against Steve’s muddled brain. Ones that make sense in such a vastness of nonsense.

“Yeah,” he whispers and nods, “kinda like that.”

Eddie drags his palm away, smoothing it over Steve’s chest in the process—over his heart and his saturated lungs. Looking on at the wall across from him, eyes bouncing over the pattern, finding something. Then, when he grasps it, he stares back at Steve. With softness. With care. “These are always the worst days,” Eddie says, “they always just make me not wanna move. Not wanna care. Like, one time, I stayed in bed for a whole week! Wayne thought I was sick—which I guess I was—dude kept bringing me bowls of Campbell’s. The soup didn’t make me entirely better, but it was nice that he was trying.”

Steve settles his head deeper into the pillow, not quite moving closer, but something like. “You…you know what this is like?” Wordlessly, Eddie just nods at him. Still calculating Steve, though, carefully checking invisible boundaries. He sighs like an elderly dog. Quietly, “I’m glad you have Wayne.”

A wistful little smile. Dimples just making themselves known. “He’s great,” Eddie murmurs, “but I also know what it’s like to be alone through this. And…and, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try and keep you company, that okay?”

“But what about our date?”

“We can have our date here, no biggie. I’ll order in some pizza and we can hang out. If you aren’t able to bring your all, then I can bring my all to you. Figure out what works, get you feeling a bit better.”

In the face of Eddie’s optimism, it’s hard to say no.

It’s also hard to get the rest of him to spew. All the other swirling thoughts, ones he admitted to his mom, they won’t bubble like the rest of him. And maybe Eddie knows them, too. Maybe he understands that desire, those abyssal thoughts that seem to just swallow rather than swarm. Dragging him deeper into the cave of this murk that is him today—and yesterday, and the days before that one, too.

It’s hard to be a person. To just be anything. But if Eddie’s willing to just stay here, then—

“Are you okay with just sleeping, Eds?”

“Baby boy, I am the master of cuddling. You wanna sleep, then we sleep. If you wanted to go fucking ice skating right now, I’d take you. Seriously, sweetheart, I go with who you are and what you can do.” Blearily, Steve registers Eddie worming the sneakers off his feet—unlaced and so Eddie it makes him ache with something softer, sweeter, almost a cavity. Eddie grunts with the last tug of one of his sneakers. “So,” he breathes, “sleep? Big or little spoon?”

And he watches with a low lick of fondness in his chest as Eddie carefully slides himself onto the bed, right up next to Steve. Earnestly shining—glowing—at Steve like the sun shines out his ass, even like this. It’s not enough to mend him. Satiate the thoughts and the fog and the slime and the pulsing raw sphere inside him, but it’s certainly soothing him. Enough that he scoots over a little more, making more space between them.

Just so he can turn over on is side, his pale face and slick hair and sickly everything pointed at Eddie. “Little spoon, please,” he murmurs. Without much else to say—not that there are words to give, nothing to really say in the face of all of him today—Eddie is bringing him in. Encompassing him in his warmth, arms tight to his torso, snuggling his head into the rise and fall of his slimmer chest. His nose buried between scars and half-tattoos. Welcomed into Irish Spring soap and cheap cologne. Musk and sweetness. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have our real date, Eds,” he whispers into the hollow of his throat.

“Nonsense,” Eddie says back at the same volume, “this is real enough for me, sweetheart. Just you—no matter how much of you—right next to me is enough.”

“Okay,” he mutters, cozying in closer.

The wind gently rustles against the window and the grandfather clock ticks, a distant dog and other misplaced noises. And then, unexpectedly, the light smack of lips against his forehead—sticky and warm and pressing. “Okay,” Eddie whispers, “okay, baby boy.” Hands still on his back, firm in their hold, legs entangled with his, lips stuck to his temple.

Breaths, mingling air that settles—steady and warm and regular.

He sleeps.

🫂—————🫂