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semischarmed · 5 months ago

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Hunter

In all aspects but his hobby, Hunter was an all around normal guy. Your interactions with the man in Apartment 1B are few and far between, but you did know a few things. You knew he used to play college football. You knew he liked to go the gym every night- 6pm on the dot. You knew he came from a small rural town in the Midwest. But above all, you knew you wanted his delectable flesh all to yourself.

Hunter liked to go out on weekends. Usually fishing. He seemed to also have a penchant for catching and releasing snakes. Why anyone would do such a thing felt like such a foreign concept to you, but it did spark a particularly devious idea.

You feign interest, listening to Hunter drone on and on about his latest trip. You did like the way his eyes beamed whenever he talked about his interests, but as far as you were concerned, the biggest catch of all was Hunter himself.

Now came the time to strike. “Damn, that actually sounds really fun... No one ever taught me to fish.” That seemed to have shocked him to his core. You shrug. “No one ever took me”. Hunter was eating it up.

“We should go fishing! Next week. I have some extra gear with me, maybe you could get some bait?” He exclaimed in boyish excitement. It was almost cute- and to be honest it turned you on a little, knowing the real purpose of the trip.

The trap was set.

- - - - -

You eye the bucket of live bait in front of you. A mass of worms wriggling in a plastic container. Right below was a series of strange symbols in a circle of red ink. You stare at the large cut on your hand, before giving it a squeeze over the worms. To your right is a nondescript black book, you read its words as you continue to squeeze, watching the bait seize on contact and appear to die. You hastily bandage your hand.

You’re not too concerned about any infections, since you knew this would be a one-way trip for the both of you. You pull up a photo of Hunter as you start to chant the next paragraph of words, pumping your dick with your non-injured hand. Because it’s a photo of Hunter, and because you can still distinctly remember his decadent musk from the night before, it doesn’t take long.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your seed begins to coat the bait. It doesn’t take long before the worms begin to wriggle again, now slick with cum and imbued with a piece of you. You moan as you feel each animal as an extension of yourself. You ball your hand into a fist and the worms respond in kind. Perfect.

- - - - -

You can’t control your sheer horniness. The lake is quiet, aside from the soft sounds of wildlife and, as far as you can tell, it was just you and Hunter for miles. The sun beats down, drawing scents out of Hunter that felt downright divine.

“Told you I knew a spot,” Hunter beams, obviously proud of his secret fishing spot.

He eyes the live bait, pondering on it for a second. You can practically see the gears in his head try to reconcile why a seemingly innocuous pile of worms felt so inherently wrong and otherworldly. He shakes the feeling as you both enter the boat, gear in hand.

The boat sways a bit as you two drift further and further from shore. Your original plan was to draw it out, make it look less intentional, but every moment outside of Hunter felt like a waste.

“Wow, I never realized how rocky these boats w- AAahhh” you scream, as you “accidentally” spill the bait all over Hunter. “Sorry!” It takes all your willpower to not get hard at the sight of Hunter unknowingly covered in pieces of yourself, soaked in your cum.

Ever the cool guy, Hunter laughs off your faked-clumsiness. Though obviously a bit disturbed. “It’s alright, can’t go fishing and not expect to get a little dirt- OOoohhh Ah!” Hunter’s back arches as he feels a cum-soaked worm slip between his clothing and travel down his spine. You order the rest of the worms to follow suit, finding any opening, any crevice to invade.

Hunter starts shaking and screeching, gesturing at you to steer the boat back to shore.

You keep the ruse, steering the skiff into a small island in the middle of the lake. As soon as you make your emergency docking, Hunter is running out of the boat attempting to shake off the worms. Somehow, he is able to catch your first worm before it can slip into his ass crack. “Fuck!” He screams as he stomps on it. That ticks you off.

As he jerks back and forth, you feel a few more parts of yourself shaken off. He can still feel the rest of your bits slipping and sliding beneath his clothes so he starts stripping as well. At last, you feel one worm slip through.

He whimpers as he feels a cum-coated worm start to enter his piss slit. As you will it to go through, you can’t help but moan. It was an intrusion of the highest order, and feeling some of his seed mix with yours was pure euphoria. His face flashes to you in horror before he too moans involuntarily. It must have been a uniquely violating experience. To add to the confusion that must have been plaguing his mind, you start to strip down as well. He’s in full shock now, unable to stammer out any response. You use those precious moments to ram him into the ground, jamming a handful of worms right into his screaming mouth.

The small tussle leads to a few cuts on his otherwise perfect flesh, but you capitalize on the opportunity and will the worms he shook off earlier back into his body through these makeshift orifices. You watch Hunter’s face go beet red, neck veins enlarging in struggle, as a giant mass of you floods into his screaming mouth. He manages to regurgitate a good amount, but enough of you is already inside. Before he can shake your main body off, his hips buck forward, hands grabbing his own ass in shock. More worms burrowing into him. This time, from behind. You make sure these pieces of yourself stimulate his g-spot, leaving him bound to inaction by senseless pleasure. You pin his grimy, convulsing body with the weight of yours, relying mostly on the sensory overload to lock him in place as you claim your hunt.

Hunter’s breaths are hot, damp and shallow with struggle. You take this moment of preoccupation to take an early taste, bringing your lips over his. One of your worms already deep in his flesh stimulates a few nerves, forcing him to reciprocate. More slip in between muscle tendons, willing his arms into a loving embrace. He’s seething, as he feels his own flesh pulling you two closer. The corners of his lips tremble, fighting the commands you inundate them with. Resistance wanes, as he feels his face pull into a seductive smile. It’s entirely out of character and he feels the sheer wrongness in the personality you force him to wear.

“T-told you I could teach you to fish,” he speaks in velvet, winking before leaning in for a kiss. Hunter’s surprisingly soft lips slowly part yours, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth.

His eyes seared with rage, but his face reflected a completely different emotion. You make him pull the most obscene smile you can sculpt with your control over his facial muscles. His tongue retracts, eyes briefly showing relief before it reenters in a more forceful manner. You stifle a moan.

Hunter shivers slightly, rubbing more of his sweat over you, as you make him shake off another attempt to reassert control. He was not going to ruin this. His smile widens as his tongue gently swirls in your mouth, coating you with his saliva and bombarding you with his taste. It then wrestles yours, briefing locking your two forms into one. With the smuggest grin you can squeeze out of him, you make him breathe into you, and you into him. His lips moving make yours move as well, though the words he is forced to speak were yours to begin with. “Fuck yeah,” he moans loudly into your mouth. You feel his deep voice reverberate into your mouth, down your throat where it resonates outward. It practically feels like he’s speaking through you. You can’t help but cum, basting more of his flesh with your seed. That sets him off enough to rip away from the extended kiss, spitting revulsion at your face.

You lick your mouth clean. Waste not, want not. Besides, Hunter tastes delicious. He is able to struggle again, rebellion renewed by the sheer horror at his brief glimpse of his future as your puppet.

You feel command waning. You try to rile yourself up in opposing anger, but you can’t help but admit the push and pull turned you on a little. Besides, to have the strength and will able to fight off all the sensations of your wriggling mass entering every port in his body at once only made you want Hunter more.

Feeling your hardening dick press upon him only served to anger the thrashing man further. You sync with your worms, commanding the wriggling mass to move in tandem. In every second of control, you make him play with your bodies, forcing him to grab your hips and center your main body above him grind into you from below. Fuck. You moan.

To be so new to his body, you lack the finesse to control your new vessel fully, so Hunter’s movements are downright vulgar. He grabs your ass with a dominating grip, pulling into a nasty smirk while licking his lips. “Make me yours.” Instantly, his demeanor changes as he fights off your control again. His hands grip dirt, clawing in agony as he tries to get his bearings. Slowly but surely, you feel the dance of authority between you two slow, as your worms settle into more efficient positions in his body. This time, it’s Hunter who’s body grabs a handful of your remaining worms, and, with the biggest shit-eating smile you can get out of him, stuffs his mouth full of it.

Most of the worms are now safely tucked inside your new home, so you ease up on Hunter. He looks to you in rage as he continues choking, as his muscled arms and legs flail useless, and as your worms find crevices inside of Hunter to slink into. Now, he too can feel how deep into his being these pieces of you are going, so he starts hyperventilating. That just turns you on even more, feeling those powerful lungs of his heave. You couldn’t wait for these to be fully yours to play with.

His body trembles as he tries in vain to stop his kind face from contorting into another lewd smile. Seeing him as your puppet? Watching his flesh defile itself- feeling Hunter do it with your smile shining through? It’s enough to get your new jockbound dick instantly hard. You drool at the sight of Hunter’s enlarging dick. “Complete me,” he moans.

You start by hijacking his genetic material. Your wormy mass is quick. It wriggles deep into his crotch. His body grunts as his hands grasps at his own flesh. ‘Something is wrong��, He feels his body telling him. At least, even more wrong than you had already made it. And something was indeed wrong. You were not content in having, binding, commanding Hunter’s form. You wanted more.

His face winces in pain as he feels his own brain memories recall his memories for you.

It was nice day in the park with his parents. The warmth of the sun and the light breeze framed the idyllic memory. Then you make him taint it. “Fuck yeah.” It pains his brain to continue, but you press on. “Can’t believe those two bred all this… I’m getting hot just thinking about it.” His face twitches until he is ultimately forced to lick his lips. “Get nice a strong, lil me. Build up those muscles so we can be the perfect puppet for him.” At that, Hunter recoils at feeling his own flesh generate pleasure from the thought you make him have. “I’m your perfect muscle sleeve. Use me.” He gagged as his own younger self in his memory anachronistically replied back. “Hell yeah, can’t fucking wait to be worn.”

Totality. You wanted it all. Past. Present. Future. You force his mind to linger on that last point before a payload of your worms burrow into his balls.

Instantly, you gorge the bits of yourself inside him on his seed. Squeezing each writhing worm into them. Outside Hunter’s body, your main body gasps. Mmmm. Strong genes. You make Hunter’s own hands dance across his flesh, fondling himself inappropriately. His insides fared no better. Hunter’s baby batter factory had been hijacked. Fully controlled. Fully infested. Fully yours. Your wriggling mass is no longer thin. They’ve been enhanced. Imbued with Hunter’s strength. Inlaid with your perversion. You feel them start to expand to their true size and form so you will them to spread throughout Hunter’s body and recondense. His tough muscle and flesh provides enough pressure to keep your new offspring together in a manageable size, just barely.

The next few moments are intense. You immediately back from the heat. Hunter whimpers as he collapses. Body twitching in odd places, skin bulging and then receding as your “offspring” together churn inside him. They find more areas to settle into. This time, Hunter is whining for a different reason. His body was not fighting the intrusion at all. That makes your dick stir. You feel his own seed coating your worms like your own personal Trojan horse. They easily slip into the cores of his muscles, cores of neurons. He tries to will his body into a fight but it’s useless. Betrayal and frustration. You feel these thoughts course in Hunter’s mind. He’s yours.

You can now feel every neuron, every cell and fiber of Hunter’s being scream and fight as you force him to speak his next words. He wraps you in a big bear hug, dousing you in his testosterone-laden sweat. In the sultriest voice you can force out of his vocal cords, Hunter looks to you with a convincingly earnest stare. “I want you to be my boyfriend”.

= = = = =

The people have spoken and they want “naughty”, I may still work up the “nice” one, at some point.

There’s more parts to this one, but it’s already a bit long.

#male puppet #male body control #male possession #male corruption #malepossession

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munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium.

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does.

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy.

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people.

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us.

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy.

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day.

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left.

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought.

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?”

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late.

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you.

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive.

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over.

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back.

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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roll-of-royces · 9 months ago

Text

Drabble: Workplace Violence (Zayne x AFAB!Reader)

Content: You get hurt. Zayne picks up the pieces, and maybe, possibly, loses his temper.

Rating: T for slight violence and injuries

Spoilers: Slight Chapter 4 mention

Word Count: 1170

It has become a bit of a habit of Zayne's and so the other staff have begun to notice it. Whenever a Hunter comes into the hospital, (specifically a female hunter) he always asks, "What is her name?"

This is the only time he ever asks a patient's name unless it is prevalent to what he needs to do next. After all there are clipboards with that information, it's not important if he's deep in surgery, covered in blood trying to keep someone alive.

But he asks, and he waits with bated breath for any name that is not your name.

So when Greyson pops his head into his office, "Hunter in surgery. You're needed."

Zayne stands, runs his hands along his coat and asks as he always does, "Their name?"

And then Greyson does something he never does, he looks down at the floor and hesitates. Because his staff are starting to pick up on why he asks. They're starting to notice one woman that is always around. The woman that eats lunch in the cafeteria, and shows up unannounced and lets herself into Zayne's office.

The woman that Zayne leaves his office door open for in the first place.

Greyson says your name.

Zayne is torn between two sides of himself, the side that is calm, a doctor, he asks, "What are her injuries?" His voice doesn't waver, his expression shows nothing. He is the cold creature half the hospital thinks he is.

The other side of him riots, he feels ice curl up his back from his Evol before he gets it under control. He wants to ask what happened, who hurt you, who could have stopped it. This side of him stays silent as he follows the other man into the hallway toward Operating Room D, the one specifically kept for Wanderer related injuries.

Greyson rattles off everything that needs to be mended and fixed. He came prepared. He knew Zayne would ask, of course he would ask. You'll need surgery, but the chances you'll live are greater than ninety-three percent. That high rate comes from Zayne himself, he's not arrogant, he's just better than most.

When he slips into the operating room you're already there, sedated, prepped for operation. Against his wishes he freezes for less than a second, staring. There's bloody gauze in the waste bin below the table, you have wounds that seep red ichor down onto the metal table.

Your hair, which you're always running your fingers through to keep smooth is in disarray. Your skin is pale, lacking the playful pink it normally is.

But now is not the time to mourn what has happened to you. Zayne bottles it all up, shoves is deep inside himself where mountains and men in black coats live and gets to work.

It takes five hours of extensive operating to stabilize you completely. He doesn't let anyone do anything but the most necessary work, he trusts his hands. He's not arrogant, he's just better. That's what he keeps telling himself on repeat.

It has nothing to do with a desperate attempt to make sure that tomorrow you look at him with those wide beautiful eyes. It has nothing to do with the ice in his heart, and the terror of the idea of living without you.

All Zayne knows is something breaks in him, something integral and controlled that lives in his chest at the sight of all the blood coating his gloves, his operating suit, the table, your body.

Once he has you in a recovery room, door closed, asleep for now, he turns to Greyson. "What happened?"

"From what I heard she ended up taking on too many Wanderers alone, her partner brought her in."

Zayne swallows, "Is Xavier here?"

Sure, he knows all about your partner. You're his girlfriend, you chat about the other man occasionally. He's talented but under-utilizes his abilities. He's lazy, too casual, and is inept at plenty of basic tasks like cooking, remembering how to get into his own apartment, and directions.

Zayne didn't care much for Xavier before today, but now...

"He's in the waiting room."

All of his patience, all of his understanding, all of his careful step by step planning has been used up on making sure that you live to see dawn tomorrow. His feet hit the tiles of the hall hard as he heads for the waiting room.

Pushing through the door he looks around. First, he looks for Caleb out of pure reflex, because if you are injured he will be here. The distinct lack of your brother is a stark reminder of the pain you have already suffered.

Next he categorizes the others waiting for you. Tara is nibbling on the edge of his finger, anxious with a few of your other coworkers. Rafayel, is sitting off alone looking down at his hands, quiet. Respectable enough.

And then of course there is Xavier. He sits in his bloody uniform, head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. As if this doesn't matter, as if you did not almost die. He's taking a nap.

Zayne is not on most days what he himself would consider an impulsive or violent man. Today is an exception for many things.

He advances and Xavier has just long enough to start opening his eyes before he's yanking him out of his chair by his collar. The Hunter straightens, but doesn't pull away.

His acceptance is his guilt.

"What were you?" Zayne's voice echoes. Staff and visitors alike stare, because this is not like him at all. He doesn't raise his voice at anyone let alone grab someone like he's done to Xavier.

When Xavier doesn't immediately give an excuse Zayne keeps going, he puts all of his fear, all of his frustration into it. "Where the hell were you when she was getting torn into? Forty-three stitches! The stress can make her heart condition worsen. She'll need weeks, possibly months, to recover. Where were you?"

"I was late getting to work." Xavier replies, there's no more fatigue in his eyes. "I made a mistake. I won't let it happen again."

Zayne's hand tightens on his shirt, "Why were you late?"

Jenna stands, "Doctor Zayne, I understand - "

"Why?" He snarls at Xavier ignoring her entirely.

Guilt again. Good he should feel guilty.

"I overslept."

Something ugly overcomes Zayne, something covetous and cloaked in darkness. Something old and new, something foreseeing and breaking. He lets go.

And punches Xavier as hard as he can.

His knuckles crack against the man's jaw. Xavier stumbles under the hit, hand reflexively coming to his face. He makes no move to attack back. There will be no war in the hospital waiting room.

Before anyone can say anything else he drops his bruising hand to his side and addresses the crowd, "She'll make a full recovery, but won't be taking any visitors today. Please excuse me, I need to check on my patient."

#l&ds #lads #love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #Protective Zayne

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wr1ghtw0rth · 9 months ago

Note

If you don't mind me asking what was Mr. Nix and Edgeworth's first meeting like exactly?

The Meeting

Miles sighs inwardly and straightens his coat as he walks, approaching the small tools shack at the edge of the park they are currently passing through. Gumshoe follows at his heels, clutching a small notebook as well as a manilla case file in one of his hands.

As unusual as it would be for the chief prosecutor to be at a crime scene like this under normal circumstances, this case is different. Miles squints at the white outlines where the body had been found earlier in the morning by a passing jogger. There is blood around the head area as well as at the side wall of the shack.

"The police is certain that there are once again no witnesses?" Miles asks, not bothering to turn towards the detective.

"Yessir, we have interviewed every resident and shop owner around the park! They all claim that they haven't heard a gunshot, or anything else suspicious!"

Miles sighs, audibly this time. Just like the other three instances. No witnesses, no one to accuse of the crime.

"Did any suspicious character come up in the background check yet?"

"No sir... we checked the alibis of his immediate family and coworkers, but there's no one who could've done it so far."

"I see. Please give me a summary of everything we know as of now." Miles steps closer to the blood stain, inspecting it. It's already dry by now, of course.

"Sure thing pal! Let me just- uh??" The detective's voice falters and Miles turns in annoyance, scowling.

"I don't have all day, detective!" He grits out, but Gumshoe isn't looking at him. He is holding... a blue poker card in his hand now, the case file nowhere to be seen, his eyes wide in shock. Miles feels his eye twitch, but just as he is about to question this bizarre scene in front of him, a voice speaks up from above them.

"The victim, Lesley Importan, 30 years old, has been shot clean through the head from behind at approximately 3 am. The autopsy report states that he must have been kneeling on the ground, in front of this lil shack here, before that happened. Gunpowder has been found on his skull, which suggests that the weapon was held close to his head. A jogger found him at around 8 am, no witnesses otherwise. Mmmh... Seems like the police is scrambling for clues again, huh?"

Miles turns his head around so quickly, he feels a twinge at the back of his neck.

"What the-?!" He looks up at the owner of this voice and openly gapes at him.

On the roof of the shack there is a man in a dark blue suit, sitting casually at the corner with one leg dangling off the side and the other crossed above it. He is holding the case file as well as Gumshoes notebook open in his lap, grinning lightly as he regards the two men beneath him with one raised eyebrow. His face is obscured by a black half-mask, covering part of his nose and cheeks. Even from afar, Miles can see a playful sparkle in those dark eyes peaking from behind it as the vigilante tilts his head. A short, black and blue cape is curling around his shoulders and neck, tied over his chest in a magenta knot, a frilly piece of cloth of the same color beaneath it. He raises one gloved finger into the air, wagging it in mock scolding.

"My my, it seems like you've lost some of your bite, Mr. Chief Prosecutor. Did I really catch you off-guard?"

Miles glares at the man, hearing detective Gumshoe shift behind him.

"Who are you? How did you get these files? I demand that you return them immediately!"

The blue figure just smiles at him, not bothering to move or say anything in response, so Miles adds a growled "I will get you to court for stealing evidence!"

His irritation grows even more as the thief leans back onto one hand casually, still smirking playfully.

"I simply had to update myself on the current case. You can have them back now." He hums before tossing the notes and file towards them.

With a gasp, Gumshoe scrambles to catch both, snatching his little book out of the air but getting the case file smacked straight to the face.

"Whoops, sorry Detective." The thief chuckles apologetically as he rises to his feet, his hands on his hips.

"Who are you?" Miles repeats icily, his eyes never leaving the others face. His spikey hairstyle reminds him painfully of his last encounter with a certain defence attorney, but he has no time to dwell on private matters now. This person could very well be the murderer, after all.

"A friend. I'm here to help." The man on the roof responds with a grin, leaning his head to the side slightly.

"But you probably won't trust me on that right now. You're certain I'm your murderer, aren't you, Mr. Chief Prosecutor? I can tell you that this is not the case."

Miles clenches his fists at his sides, glancing away for a split second, meeting eyes with detective Gumshoe. Receiving a barely visible nod from the detective he steps forward, lifting his chin as he crosses his arms.

"The fact that you keep refusing to answer my questions makes that very believable, don't you think. What is your name?"

He smirks as the thief actually looks surprised by this.

"My name, huh? Good question! Let me think... you could call me... Nix?"

Miles rolls his eyes. This guy seriously went as far as to come here in full costume and hasn't even thought of an alias for himself?

Ridiculous.

"Alright then, Mister..... Nix. If you are truly innocent, why don't you come down here and prove it?" The prosecutor moves from his spot, walking along the side of the shack, making the other man turn his head in order to keep his eyes on him. He feels his smirk growing. This guy is not as smart as he seems to think.

"Sorry, I don't think I can do that. In fact, I think it's time for me to go now, I've got what I wanted. Oh and... please be more careful, detective."

"Detective!"

Miles eyes widen as the thief casually side-steps Gumshoe, who had been sneaking up behind him and pounced forward in an attempt to capture him. The stumbling detective lets out a shout of surprise, flailing his arms as he is almost taken off the roof by his momentum.

Except... he doesn't fall.

"Uh... what?" Gumshoe blinks down at Miles, dumbfounded. He's leaning so far over, his feet both against the edge of the roof, that he should be falling by now. Miles takes a step back, looking up in disbelief at the thief, who is clinging to the detective's coat with both hands and leaning back using his full body weight in order to keep him in place.

"Gee detective, aren't you a heavy one?" The masked man gasps out, "will you be good to jump off now? Because I don't think I can manage to pull you back."

"Uh... Y-yeah, thanks pal." Gumshoe stutters, still visibly confused about the whole situation, and a moment later he lands heavily on his feet beside Miles. The prosecutor narrows his eyes as he watches the thief take a bow.

"No need to thank me. But as I said, I will be taking my leave now. Until we meet again, Mr. Chief Prosecutor." The masked man sing-songs the last part before turning on his heel, running to the opposite side of the roof before jumping off as well.

"Wait!!" Miles jumps into action, taking a sharp turn around the corner of the shack, the tail ends of his coat flying behind him. But it's no use.

"What the-?? He's gone!" He stops abruptly, gritting his teeth and staring into the direction the thief must have vanished to. Gumshoe catches up to him a moment later.

"Well Sir. He doesn't seem all bad, at least..." The taller man murmurs, scratching his cheek, but shuts up the moment he catches Miles glare.

"I-I mean! I'm going to call for back up, we'll search the whole area!" The detective saluts and turns, digging into his pockets for his cell phone as he stumbles off.

Miles stays behind for a moment longer before he shakes his head and is about to turn to follow his companion, when he spots something. A blue poker card is lying on the ground just in front of his foot. He kneels down, picking it up by one edge and turning it over.

It's an ace of hearts.

I have a feeling that we will indeed meet again.

Getting back up, he stores the card in his chest pocket on the inside of his coat. He looks once again into the direction the masked man had vanished to, before he turns.

For better or for worse remains to be seen.

---------

Thank you so much @almarnatiaam for beta reading and helping with this! It's my first attempt to write, so I hope you guys have fun with this >//<

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #mr. nix #wrightworth #kits art #narumitsu #nrmts

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

Text

Oh Captian My Captain

This piece is my first request and I hope this is what you'd like

Carol Danvers x GN!Shapeshifter!Reader

Warnings: 18+, selfcest, oral(R to C), Fingering(R to C), dirty talk, begging

“You know I don't think I'll ever get used to being up here.” You say looking out the window in awe at the surrounding stars and planets, Carol had taken the two of you as close as she could to a star that was going supernova, it had to be one of the most beautiful sights other than your amazing girlfriend, Carol Danvers a.k.a Captain Marvel.

You feel her toned arms wrap around you from behind, her chin resting upon your shoulder as she enjoyed the view with you for a few moments before both her hands and her mouth start to wander, making your knees feel weak,

“C-Captain…” a breathy noise makes its way out of your mouth as she turns you towards her, a devilish smirk on her face that you know can only mean one thing, she wants you to use your powers, shape-shifting.

“What shall it be this time Captain?” Carol had a plethora of tastes that you had grown accustomed to and sure you two had plenty of sex without you shape-shifting, but Carol had fantasies and you were more than happy to oblige her requests.

“Me.” She states firmly her smile not wavering. She had asked for many different things, but this one was new.

“You want me to shapeshift into you?” You clarify as she nods her head a small ‘yes’ coming past her lips as you cup her cheek. “Such a naughty girl Captain, wanting to fuck yourself? You've had me shift into a lot of different and strange things, but this?” You let your words hang as your features morph into the woman standing before you, “This takes the cake Captain.” Before you can stop her, her lips are crashing against yours with such a fever that you hadn't seen from your girlfriend in quite a long time.

As you let her take control, which you normally did, but she was curious about her own body so you let her explore the body you loved exploring so much.

Soon enough the two of you were on the bed, clothes discarded, and your head between her thighs. Eating her out as if you were starving.

Normally no matter what you shifted into for her she'd still always use your name or a pet name she'd decided suited the moment best, but right now it was different as you lapped up her juices, coating your entire chin you could tell just how turned on she was,

“A-ah…C-Carol…” she moaned out her own name and you smirked against her, moving your mouth back in favor of two fingers moving at a rough and fast pace,

“You're so naughty, Captain. You really just wanted to fuck yourself so badly. I think this is the wettest you've ever been.” You tell her and you can see the blush on her cheeks as she tries to look away. “No…no…none of that,” you grab her chin forcing her to look at you. “Look at me, Captain. You wanted this so badly.” You continue your rough pace making a string of moans tumble out your girlfriend's mouth,

“C-Carol…gonna cum!”

“That wasn't how you ask Captain. Beg me for it.”

“Please…please can I cum?”

“You can do better than that Captain, come on if you really want this you'll beg properly.”

“Please Carol can I cum! I wanna cum all over your fingers please!” You smirk as you lean down, crashing your lips against hers the push and pull of your normal dynamic thrown out the window as you wanted to make her a puddle beneath you, beneath herself.

“Go on cum on your pretty slender fingers.” Without much else you feel her walls contract around your fingers,

“Carol, Carol, Carol!” She chanted as her hips rocked against your fingers helping her down from the high.

Slowly slipping your fingers out, hearing her whine at the emptiness you coo at her, bringing your fingers to her lips as she happily welcomes them, sucking on them as you move yourself to a better cuddling position. You could tell how worn out she was from it and you were content with leaving things here for now.

“What about you?” Carol asks as you get up for the usual aftercare items.

“We can have round two later, okay?” You give her one last kiss before turning your appearance back to your usual self.

“I love you Y/N. Thank you for never judging me when I ask for you to shift.” She smiles up at you, genuinely it had bothered you at first, but seeing her smile and how happy it made her at the end was all you needed to carry on happily.

“I love you too Carol. No matter what you ask me to shift into.”

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley requests #carol danvers #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x gn!reader #selfcest #gn!reader

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anonymous-existences · 2 months ago

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Chapter 4 : Summonings

[7:45𝙿𝙼]

Dan Had Ellie and Danny in his chest as he reads them a storybook, "Paw Paw then said, " I will need some helpers! I want crowly crow and Willard weasel to be my advisors." Well Crowly Crow and Willard Weasel was honored and agreed to work with Paw Pa—" he felt his chest clenching, enough that he stopped talking and felt his body subtly warp and him reappearing in a cult circle with Danny and Ellie still in his arms.

Upon their arrival a trail of frost and dark green and red vein like vines trailed with the Frost that surrounded the room, the ice freezing below normal temperatures and making the ceilings and the pillars of the chamber freeze with the vines over tracing the cracks and crevices of the ice.

All 3 of them in regal attire, Dante grit his teeth In anger, who the fuck dare summon him as he was putting his kids to sleep. He faces the summoners, he saw the bats...? On the ground tied up quite tightly. Dante slowly stood up from his floating stance and glared at the cult who summoned him, "Oh Great King Pariah Dark! We summon thou to help us Remake and Put this world's vile humans to a chan—" the cult leader was interrupted. "First of all, I am not Pariah Dark, Second I don't do that shit anymore as well and I am a reformed Man." Dante just growls and The cult leader stutters in confusion but Dante just shot his head with an ecto-beam before combing his now loose hair back.

Dante puts down the kids that were still awake but sleepy, "Go on Little Phantoms, Untie the Innocents. Daddy has to deal with these other vile people." Dante says and cracking his knuckles as the two kids ran to the bats and was untying them, hopping happily as they do so.

Dante set a dark forcefield around him and the cultists, not allowing anyone outside to see what kind of brutal violence he is about to commit on Daring to summon him for evil.

"Wowie! Tall! Tall! Tall! Almost as tall as Daddy!" Ellie squeals jumping up and down as she stared up at Batman... "Uncle Jay Jay! Uncle Jay Jay! HAII! HAII!" Danny was running around Red Hood, "Hood.... You know them?" Nightwing looks at Hood in confusion, "Uncle Dickie! Uncle Dickie!" The two now running around all them laughing and giggling. "Uhm.. I think that's Danny and Ellie— you know— the kids I babysit for Dan—" Hood says confused but slowly piecing their voices and the nicknames together.

"What." Nightwing just says both confused and serious, Nightwing nearly facepalms trying to process the new information that was just revealed to him as if that was a normal information to find out, "Up! Up! Up! Up!!" The twins demanded to Damian. "Ofcourse." Damian complied without hesitation and carried the two in his arms.

"What the fuck—" Dick just tilts his head, "You can do that?" He says mouth slightly agape and Batman too, "Pardon you Grayson but I am very fond of Hood's Little Feral Kids, They're much More fun to be with than any of you and Dan is a good Father." Damian huffs making Danny and Ellie giggle.

Both twins were wearing matching suits, for Ellie she wore a dress instead but both had fur coats that were decorated with gold and silver chains, they wore floating crowns, Ellie's looked like Clouds and Snow whilst Danny's looked like Ice and Stars both crowns adorned with blue and violet gems that contrast to their green tinted presence.

Dante dropped the forcefield, he tore the souls of these cultists and made sure not to leave any blood. "... Danny, Ellie.. Come.." Dan kneels and Danny and Ellie ran to him, "Daddy! Daddy! Look! It's uncle Jay Jay! And Uncle Dickie!" Both said in unison and Dante felt himself mentally panic because these two have no filters for people they know.

"They're wearing strange costumes today daddy! Same with Heir Dami!" Danny yelled and raising his hands excitedly and Dan slumped and cover his face in Embarrasament.

"Cough." Damian cleared his throat in pride, "Did you teach the kids to call you Heir Robin?" Danny glances at the boy who puffs his chest, "Ofcourse! They couldn't say my full name so we settled with Dami instead." Damian huffs, And Batman finally grunts in what seems to be confusion.

"Please... Don't... Look at me.." Dan was very Embarrassed, he looked very regal and a ghost at that Infront of his crush of all people and his crush had to be BATMAN of all people? And his kids had to see them and call them by their first names because they're kids and they're stupid and excited... "Goddamit." Dan cursed and laughed nervously, "What are you exactly." The bat questions whilst squinting at the other Man.

"We can uhm— discuss this somewhere else you know?" Dan suggests, "Where did the bodies go...?" Jason asks, "Infinite Realms to suffer in their own versions of hell—" Dan nearly stutters as Batman—Bruce squinted at him as he pulls Damian closer to behind him, "B, he's no danger I can affirm." Jason walked over to Beside Dan and pats his back. "My sister is way dangerous with her bat—" Dan tries to say but he just deflates. Dammit didn't he used to be this sassy and Powerful all knowing being?? Why is he experiencing Teenage Anxiety because of having a crush?? Why is he deflating Infront of this man?? This is so Embarrassing. What the fuck...

Jason Pats Dan's Head quite Calmly, "This Explains so many things." Jason Pats his back more, "Does it now JayLad?" Dan just mutters and glanced at Jason. "Yes Dad— Dan— DAN GODDAMIT GRAAAAH!!!" Jason just punched Dan in the heat of his anger at saying Dad Instead of Dan, Dan just taking the punches. "I can't even care anymore, I'm too tired for this and too humiliated to have gotten caught by actual uncultured cultists." Dick sighs and Batman grunts in subtle approval.

"Look, can you let me go for today? We can discuss the other stuff tommorow about this... Identity? But I really need to get my kids to sleep. Please." Dan just smiles awkwardly, mentally Deflating staring at Batman. 'Damn those abs— Goddamit Dante get a hold of yourself' Dan thought to himself before facepalming hard. "Goddamit— Ancients Save me from this scene." Dan turns around and looks away which earned him a confused hum from Nightwing, Robin and Especially Batman.

"Is something the matter?" Batman asks seriously, "Uslkeinsidbsjen." Dan was mentally breaking, "I think daddy's malfunctioning!" Ellie says Enthusiastically. "Wait a GODDAMN Minute." Jason looked at Dan who was blushing and Back at Batman and He kicks Dan's shin, "OW— JAYLAD WTF—" Dan looks at Jason and looked hurt. "GO BACK RIGHT NOW AND STOP SIMPING FOR MY FATHER!! THAT'S MY DAD!! MY DAD!! GET THE FUCK BACK!!" he kept punching Dan's shoulder and pushing him back to the summoning circle portal, "WAIT LET ME SEE HIM ONE LAST TIME—" Dan tries to reason. "NUH-UH!!!!"

Jason pushed him through the portal, "Bye Bye Uncle Jay Jay!" Both the twins said In unison giggling before closing the portal as they passed through it. The summoning circle immediately burned and disappeared leaving no traces. The frost and Vine like veins that trailed along with the ice also burned and disappeared.

"Jason... You have some explaining to do... Maybe .. someday if you're ready to do that..." Batman— no. Bruce says.... Jason just called him Father, Dad, His Dad... Bruce took a deep breathe.

What the fuck are they supposed to do now? There's no traces of anything that happened with the cult...

[𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢]

3:56 PM

"You what." Jazz grips the pen she was holding as she wrote down a list of what she needed to do for the day. "SOMEONE summoned me using Batman and his kids as sacrifices and they kinda found out my identity because I was with the kids when it happened? Hood was there— and The little Gremlin Too—" Dante says nervously and Jazz shot him a glare.

"Uhghm.... Clockwork please tell me this isn't a joke and I'm just hallucinating." Jazz took a deep breathe, "Unfortunately Madame that's not the case" Clockwork chuckled and Jazz groaned in exhaustion. "And what happened after that?" Jazz continued writing, slower this time. "I kinda found out Batman Is Bruce...?" Dante says sitting beside Jazz and Jazz just stabs her pen onto the table upon hearing that information.

"And I thought dealing with Joker's Whining everyday was bad..." Jazz just laughing, Dante backed away, Jazz absolutely going insane and laughing whilst gripping the already broken pen. "Ancients have mercy on me... Haha... Fucking— mmm..." Jazz just looked defeated and her eye twitching in irritation. "Clockwork can you hand me my... Something just something to calm me down." Jazz raises her hand and Clockwork hands her a kitten.

She stares at the kitten then smiles, "Yes Good Kitty." Immediate calmness overcomes her anger for everything as she cuddles the Kitten in her hands gently. "You should go Dante, after all don't you have a meeting with the Batman?" Clockwork smirks. "Your way of meddling is very messy Clockwork." Dante scoffs and walks out not before kissing Danny and Ellie's foreheads. "Bye Daddy!" Ellie waved goodbye whilst giggling and Danny only waving slightly with a small tired small.

Dan hops in his bike and puts on his helmet and drove away. "Grandpa! Grandpa! Can we sneak out!" Ellie asks, "Ellie! That's not how you sneak out! You don't tell anyone!" Danny protests against his sister and Clockwork chuckled amused, " I know everything you two are to do from the past to the future. But ofcourse. I can trust you both not to get into too much trouble right? Just make sure to use your disguises little ones." Clockwork pats their head and the two looked happy and started running and changing into their phantom forms before floating and turning invisible.

The two quickly bolted to the Main City looking for Damian's School, Soon enough they found the 14 years old boy in high school and about to leave that afternoon to go home, Damian rode the Car with Alfred as the driver. Danny and Ellie followed him and sat beside him in the car couches. No one else could hear or see the two but Damian could feel the chills that came with them. Alfred did as well. "Oh my, you seem to have acquaintances today Master Damian!" Alfred chuckles, "It seems so Alfred. Damian fixes his tie and guessed where they would be beside him accurately.

Both giggled as if they had done this before and reappeared before Damian. Damian handed them both cookies Alfred had baked, "Remember Alfred. Father must not find out." Damian looked at Alfred, "Yes ofcourse but I can't promise I won't tell him if the Master Asks." He hummed. Damian nodded. "Did you escape from your Father again?" Damian asks them and Danny nodded.

"Daddy says he's meeting your Daddy! Like a meeting!" Danny says as he munched on the cookies, "Daddy Says it's because we met you guys last night!" Ellie then enthusiastically said. "I see... Understandable." Damian clears his throat. "Alfred how do you like it it father gets a new much better, actually Logical — partner. Even if it's a male?" Damian asks. "Hmmm, as long as they are not a threat to the Family I do not oppose it." Alfred answers, "Very Well, I shall allow and subtly help father with getting a male Mate. So that he does not create any more unnecessary offsprings." Damian states Proudly.

"What are offsprings?" Danny asks, "Another word for Children Daniel." Damian says. "Okay!" Danny just sits right beside Damian and Damian pulls them both closer to him.

"Maybe I should ask Todd to help me..." Damian mutters under his breathe before smiling subtly.

A/N: I'm sorry this story can be a bit inconsistent because I'm going through some pretty rough stuff rn and getting highly distracted but I promise I'm actually trying to post as much as possible cuz I love writing.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom fandom #dc x dp #dcu #dp x dc #ao3 #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

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Baby, that red dress brings me to my knees - Cyclone from Top Gun?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @b-bradshaw @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman

Companion piece to Chevy Corvette - Harm asks you for an answer regarding a very personal question.

You wear a red dress to Harmon Rabb’s rehearsal dinner, one that Beau has never seen before. It clings to your form in a way he can only describe as sinful. It causes an uncomfortable stirring in his trousers as he sips from a glass of whiskey at the bar.

It gets worse as the night goes on because you’re in a very playful mood. Fingertips playing across the neckline, drawing his attention to your breasts, palm brushing over his cock as you slip past him. When the two of you dance together, he can feel every single inch of you pressed against him and you use that to your advantage.

When he does eventually manage to get you alone, he’s aching for you, his cock leaking all over this underwear.

“You are being a very naughty girl tonight.” He murmurs as he draws you into the cloak room, pressing your back against the wall.

“It’s seeing you in this suit.” You tell him, your fingers trailing over his chest through his shirt. “It does something to me.”

He ends up on his knees with his face buried between your thighs as he jerks himself off. His other fist is bundled in the fabric of the dress, grasping it as he buries his tongue deep in that sweet, wet cunt of yours. He can tell you’re close, it’s in the way you tug his hair, your hitched breathing. He loves going down on you, giving you pleasure, it sparks something filthy in his brain, something raw and primal.

“Beau.” You whisper and the way you say his name…

It ruins him.

He lets you come once before he fucks you. Normally he’d go for two but you’re running short on time and any minute now someone could come along to collect their coat.

The moment he eases inside you, he knows he isn’t going to last long. You’ve been working him up all night and the way you grip his cock, it feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. He thrusts inside you, once, twice and you’re coming all again, tightening around his dick. It sends him hurtling over the edge, his mouth covers yours, stifling the moan of ecstasy that leaves your lips.

“You make me do the craziest damn things.” He mumbles into the curve of your throat in the aftermath and you laugh as your fingers card lightly through his hair.

“It’s the dress.” You whisper into his ear. “You’ve always said how much you love me in red.”

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#beau simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson #topgun #topgun maverick

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orqheuss · 2 years ago

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Insatiable Gravity (Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

You tried to shove your way through their body blockade, annoyance seeping into your words. “What is this nonsense all about? No one’s sleeping on the floor, don’t be daft.” Seeing that their embarrassed stumblings were getting them nowhere, the Slytherin’s hung their heads and stepped aside so you could get through. Seeing the full extent of the room now, you were able to understand their trepidation. “Oh…” There was only one bed. *** When it rains, it pours, and when you and your two Slytherin boys get trapped in a downpour far away from the castle, your only hope at salvation is the little inn down the road. The problem, though? They only have one room available for the night, and the room only has one bed.

Word Count: 8k

Is this a shamelessly self indulgent piece where i let my mind go absolutely feral and write every conceived notion i had about the boys' physical appearance into existence? yes. yes it is. Enjoy.

Rain poured from the sky in thick sheets of water, coating every inch of the small muggle town the trio of students ventured to earlier in the day. The three of you found yourselves stuck under a shop awning, huddled away from the freezing cold droplets, scowls decorating each of your faces like the world had slighted you. The night cast an eerily blue opaqueness on the buildings, the only bits of color spawning from the illuminated windows of the cottages lining the streets. It had been Sebastian’s idea to travel to the muggle village in search for some possible remedies for his sister's curse; he had read something about herbal medicine in one of the many tombs littering the Hogwarts library. In your long search for a cure the sun had quickly set across the horizon, casting a slight glimmer of stars across the sky and bringing forth an onslaught of ink black cumulonimbus clouds and a diamond toned shower. The students knew that they would be stuck there until they were able to apparate away in the morning— it was forbidden to use magic where it could be possibly spotted by one of the muggles milling about.

You cast your eyes to the boys next to you, taking in their forms against the pounding rain. Sebastian’s hair was slicked back for once, the tresses sopping wet like a sponge and curling slightly at the ends. He had pushed it back once you got out of the downpour, leaving his eyes to be on full display, shining even brighter under the low lamplight. His clothing fared just as well— cloak hanging off his shoulders like a heavily weighted blanket and his white button down near translucent under his green corduroy suit jacket. You felt color creep up your neck and onto your cheeks at the sight of his broad chest peaking through the slits of cloth. It was no secret that the brunette was attractive, many of the girls in your year had made that fact explicitly clear. There was an air about him that drew people in, a moth to a flame in his own way. He was the charismatic, mischievous type that somehow would become your fathers best friend. You can’t help the soft look that takes over your features; a small smile tweaks at the corners of your lips as you admired him in all his glory. His hand was resting on his head, his palm pressed against his hair and pushing back the curls so he could see through the inclement weather. As if feeling your gaze, he turns in your direction and the pools of amber that melt in his irises meet yours for a moment. Caught in the act, you quickly looked away and stared hotly at the stone floor below, your cheeks flowing a startling scarlet out of embarrassment. He snorted at your obvious admiration, turning away to look outwards into the storm once again with a toothy grin pulling at his mouth, his cheeks coloring his own shade of a light rosy hue.

Risking a glance yet again, you look up through your eyelashes at the second boy, drinking in the form of a disheveled Ominis Gaunt. The normally prim and proper Slytherin looked quite similar to a drowned rat as of late, but much to your chagrin it somehow still suited him. His normally quiffed hair fell across his forehead, significantly longer than you had imagined, and cascaded into his eyes like a blond waterfall. The orange lights that lined the streets glowed in his eyes like brilliant little fires, blazing against his cornflower shaded irises and catching the streaks of lavender lightning that zigzagged in them. Even in the cloudburst that threw itself against the pavement, he still had an air of regality about him— the type of boy your parents hoped you’d marry one day. He oozed old money, from the intricate chained decals that clipped his cloak together to his silver snake cufflinks. The boy may not believe it— he was terribly modest— but he caught the female gaze just as much as the brunette he kept as close company. Your gaze locked on his taut shoulders, trailing from their curvature towards where his collarbones jutted out under his skin and created a lovely shelf atop his chest. The starry birthmarks that lined his body shone through his perfectly pressed shirt, also merely nothing more than a thin sheet thanks to the precipitation, and created a smooth trail down his fair skin from neck to wrist. You were stuck for a particularly long time on his biceps, the muscles that you very rarely saw straining against the satin fabric in a show of wry strength. He had shucked off his robe not long after the rain began, complaining of its weight, leaving him in just his button down and paisley embroidered forest green vest. You gulped deep in your throat, mouth suddenly very dry as you stared for longer than was deemed socially acceptable. The blond did not meet your gaze, unlike his counterpart, but you knew he could feel the heat of your ogling. Looking down once again, you could see a small smile turn the corners of his mouth and tips of his ears blush a soft rosacea out of the corner of your eye.

You cleared your throat, casting your gaze back to the stout building across from you. The little inn’s windows were frosted over from the cold, the thick water droplets that raced down its panes leaving thin trails of clarity and light. Braziers lined the walls inside, glittering in the autumn night and flinging a radiant apricot-toned light along the puddles lining the streets. You shivered under your layers of drenched clothing, heavy vibrations wracking through your body and drawing the attention of the two boys flanking you once again.

You hesitantly spoke, teeth chattering and voice barely carrying itself into their ears because of the pounding rain. “We should turn in for the night— get out of the rain before we freeze solid. The inn looks like it still has some vacancies.”

Sebastian made an unsure noise in the back of his throat, mouth stretching into a thin line. “I would prefer we just go back to the castle. It can’t be that far away, we made it by foot earlier.”

Ominis spoke up from your other side, eyebrows knitted together in annoyance and tone scathing. “Are you the blind one, now? It’s pouring, you dolt. We wouldn’t be able to make it back if we tried, even in the daylight. Not to mention none of us know how to apparate yet, so we’d likely be stuck on bedrest for the next week sick as dogs.” He sighed heavily, milky blue eyes closing as he let his head fall backwards towards the roof. “I think the inn would be our best bet. Let’s just hope they’ll rent to us.”

The brunette huffed to himself, arms crossing over his chest as he was out voted. The three of you steeled yourself to go back into the downpour, pulling your cloaks tightly around your bodies and hoods over your heads to try and avoid getting more wet. On the count of three, you all sprinted across the large courtyard separating your shelter from the inn. Ominis grabbed tightly onto your sleeve, letting you pull him along since he couldn’t use his location charm. The rain felt like tiny sharp stings against your cheeks; your cloak was unsuccessful keeping out the wet and the chill.

Sebastian made it to the entrance first, throwing open the door with a loud bang and ushering the both of you indoors. The sudden temperature change once you crossed the threshold sent a shiver down your spine. A large ornate fireplace was tucked against the wall, swirling radiating heat throughout the whole bottom floor of the building and kissing your damp cheeks with a pleasant warmth. You were sure the three of you looked like a right sight— strange clothes hanging from your bones like you were draped in countless, very wet blankets, and dripping onto the wood floor below you. You tried to fix your appearance slightly, pushing your hair out of your eyes and attempting to straighten your top and skirt. The cloth stuck to your skin, making the task near impossible, and eventually you relented in your quest for proper etiquette. You pulled your cloak tighter against your body, shielding your surely see-through shirt from the ravenous eyes of the male hotel patrons. As if sensing your unease, Sebastian leveled his gaze into a glare and took a minute step in front of you, Ominis doing the same but to your rear. Shuffling like a conjoined unit, the three of you approached the front desk with a hope of sanctuary.

The man in front of you was older, probably about the same age as Professor Weasley, and looked inviting enough to speak to. He smiled hesitantly at your trio, his eyes wracking up and down your sopping wet forms and taking everything you had to offer in. He spoke confidently, but with a question obviously lingering on the tip of his tongue.

“How can I help you three?”

Ominis took the lead, subtly shifting into his more prim and proper nature. “We would like to rent two rooms, please. We are traveling through and got caught in the rain; it would be unwise to continue on foot at this time.”

The innkeep leveled a suspicious stare at the boy, letting his eyes roam from his milky, unseeing eyes to where his shoulder brushed against yours, then across your own form, sticking for a moment where your other shoulder touched Sebastian’s, and then finally up to the brunette’s stoic face. You certainly were an odd bunch.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “How old are you lot?”

Ominis straightened his shoulders, standing to his full height and twisting his face into one of the most serious expressions you had ever seen cross his visage. “Old enough to rent a room for one night, I would think. Now, are you going to let my wife, her brother, and I rest after a very long day, or shall we turn our business elsewhere?”

You fought the blush that threatened to creep up your neck. His wife? Oh Merlin, you were in trouble. Of all the lies to tell, why that one? Of all ways to try and make you seem older…

To your left, Sebastian’s face contorted more into a scowl.

The blond reached into his cloak and pulled out a small satchel, tossing it onto the countertop before the hotel owner. It jingled as it fell— copper money clinking together in a rich little symphony.

“I assure you, our coin is good.”

The man looked shocked, eyes now flickering between the tall boy and the bag of riches. You could see the cogs turning in his mind as he thought about the best course of action— he tended to speak more with his eyes, you noted to yourself. The thought of money seemed to outweigh his qualms about renting to three very obvious teenagers as he reached forwards and grabbed the tiny bag.

“Only got one room available. Take it or leave it.”

The two boys stiffened at your sides, their minds filling with similar images of the three of you huddled close together for warmth. You could tell Ominis was about to object, and as hesitant as you also were you knew that there wasn’t another inn for miles. You quickly jumped into the conversation, to hell with what was normally deemed proper.

“We’ll take it, right boys?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t really care if they didn’t agree with sharing a room with you. The sweet song of a warm bath called to you like a siren, and you wanted nothing more than to dive deep under the water and let it envelop you.

Grumbling under their breath, they both nodded their heads. You reached your hand out, taking the key from the kind man and followed in his footsteps as he led you to the room.

After thanking the kind man again, you could barely make it two steps into the cabin before running into the strong backs of Sebastian and Ominis. They both stood stone-still in the entryway, eyes locked on something in front of them like a doe under the watchful eye of a hunter. Your eyes could only just peek over their shoulders, and upon placing your hands on their forearms as you stood on the tips of your toes, you could feel the heated blush creeping up under their clothes. Your eyebrows crested together in confusion.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

You could only describe the atmosphere around you as awkward as both boys cleared their throats and began stuttering out various forms of explanations and decisions about…sleeping arrangements?

“I-it’s nothing! Don’t worry about it, w-we can figure something out—”

“We can sleep on the floor, i-if that would make everyone more comfortable. It’s only proper that the lady g-get the bed—”

Merlin, you’d never heard them so shaken before.

You tried to shove your way through their body blockade, annoyance seeping into your words. “What is this nonsense all about? No one’s sleeping on the floor, don’t be daft.”

Seeing that their embarrassed stumblings were getting them nowhere, the Slytherin’s hung their heads and stepped aside so you could get through. Seeing the full extent of the room now, you were able to understand their trepidation.

“Oh…”

There was only one bed.

Ominis spoke up from your side, his hand rubbing at the back of his very red neck. “As I said, we can sleep on the floor if that would make you more comfortable…” His sentence trailed off at the end, nervous about your possible reactions.

Sebastian nodded his head to your left before catching your eye, causing him to turn his face away and admire the painting on the wall like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. You caught sight of the intense rouge on his cheeks before he was able to hide it, though.

You sighed to yourself, closing your eyes tightly and fighting off the blush that threatened to color you from the top of your chest to the tips of your ears. You willed away the unseemly images that swam in your mind at the thought of the three of you tangled together on the very small bed. It was barely enough room for two people, let alone three— you’d be pressed as close as possible for the whole night, warm bodies linked together like an intricate knot. Heat pooled in your stomach at the thought of being in the middle of both boys, one pressed against your backside and the other against your front like a tantalizing sandwich.

You cleared your throat, your mouth suddenly incredibly dry as you schooled your expression into one of neutrality, praying that they couldn’t read your ulterior motives on your face. “I-I’m fine with sharing if you both are. We’re friends— friends can share a bed for a night.”

You didn’t think it was possible for Ominis to get any more red; any darker and he would resemble a fresh tomato.

Sebastian heaved a shaky sigh, like he was trying to expel all of the uncouth thoughts and sheer nerves from his system, and cleared his throat again, already turning towards the en-suite bathroom down the tightly packed hallway.

“I’ll follow your lead. Now, I would like to take a bath and get out of these wet clothes if that’s alright with you.”

Your reply bounced harmlessly against his retreating form. “O-Okay!”

Mere moments later, the sound of running water reached your ears.

The remaining two of the trio stood there in a statue-like pause, stewing in their own personal wet dream for a moment with an uneasy, awful silence. You’d given up trying to shut your mind up by this point, instead trying to adopt a laissez faire attitude about the whole thing and ignoring the ache between your legs that screamed to be taken care of. Merlin, you had never been this worked up before, even in the comfort and privacy of your own room. One measly setback and you’d transformed into a prepubescent school boy!

Ominis was the first to break himself out of his stupor, shuffling around on his feet and dropping his jaw open and closed like a dying fish as he searched for the right words to say. He breathed deeply through his nose, steadying himself before gesturing with his hand towards the rest of the room.

“After you.” Always the gentleman, that one.

You nodded, whispering a quiet thanks before stepping out of the cramped entryway. The room was scarce, just a single full bed and a rug adorning the wood floor. Some paintings were hung on the wall to make it seem more homely, but the effect honestly just made it seem even smaller. You sat on the mattress, testing the feel under you and the softness of the sheets. They were slightly rough against your hands, but nothing that would deter you from sleep for the night. The bed barely gave way to your weight— the thing had to be made of stone with how hard it was. Maybe the floor would actually be better, you mused to yourself.

The blond cleared his throat for the upteenth time that night, drawing your attention towards where he leaned against the opposite wall. There really wasn’t much room in the space, if you stretched your foot a little bit further you could touch his. He looked away again, feeling your eyes on his skin— the attention from you felt like a million tiny hot pokers.

“You should get out of those clothes.” Color flooded his face again once he realized what he said. “I-I mean because your clothes are wet! You could catch a cold— oh Merlin, I am so sorry, that came out entirely wrong—”

His sentence pittered out at the sound of your giggle. The blond let his shoulders relax slightly, grateful you weren’t offended by his blunder. You stood, beginning to peel layers of your clothes from your body and letting them fall to the floor with a wet plop. Sitting back on the bed, now sans your cloak, blazer, vest, tie, and tights, you smiled mischievously in the boy’s direction, lightly teasing him.

“My, Ominis, if you wanted my clothes off all you had to do was ask nicely.”

The blond laughed heartily, pushing off the wall and striding the small distance towards the bed, sitting down next to you and crossing one of his legs under him. He fell easily back into the playful banter you’d adopted since your first unfortunate meeting outside the Undercroft.

“You’d like that, you vixen.”

This time, his teasing had a different effect than normal— the intimacy of the situation not lost on your subconscious in the slightest. The air around you felt fraught with tension; he was suddenly much closer to you than what was normally deemed appropriate. He seemed to sense this as well, and his body tensed under your watchful gaze. You had jokingly flirted before, both with him and with Sebastian, but this was incredibly different. It felt different. Your hands were nearly touching on the bed, your knees brushing against each other from the angle of your bodies. Ever so slightly, you slid your hand along the bedspread, grazing your pinky against his, listening to his breathing hitch at the shock of your cold skin against his. Not a single breath could be heard in the space, all the blood rushing to your head and your pupils dilating at the barely concealed look of what you could only describe as want in Ominis’ eyes.

Gods, did he want this as much as you did? Need you as much as you needed him?

His hand inched the rest of the way, sliding over the top of your fingers and gripping them between his much longer ones. Your breaths mingled in the space between you, the warmth brushing across your freezing cheeks and curling around your pounding heart— the organ could rocket out of your chest at any moment, and you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care; you just didn’t want him to move away. On the contrary, the opposite happened— Ominis began to move closer. His breathing stuttered in his chest, a soft shaky sigh falling from his open mouth when he felt you do the same.

He licked his lips, eyes half lidded in desire. “We shouldn’t… Sebastian is in the bathroom.”

You shifted closer, resting your other hand on his knee. Your voice was nothing more than a breath in the wind. “Of course…it wouldn’t be right of us.”

Your faces inched closer and closer together, noses nearly brushing at this point. The pulsing in your ears muted everything else in the room, not alerting you to the sound of water draining out of the bathtub. What was startlingly loud, though, was the creak of the bathroom door slowly swinging open and Sebastian stepping into the room. The both of you jumped apart like the idea of your skin touching burned you. You quickly stood from the bed, ignoring the very confused brunette who was standing there in only his undershirt and boxers, and nearly sprinted to the washroom, mumbling that you would be taking your turn in the hot water now.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you threw your face into your hands, groaning as quietly as possible. Why did you do that? You’ve been in love with those two idiots for a year at least, and now you choose to do something about it? Good lord, why now, why you, why them? You wanted to kiss Ominis in that moment more than anything else in the world, it was like his lips were calling to you in the sweetest voice you had ever heard before— curse Sebastian and his terrible timing! You wanted to throw something at him— a chair, yourself, you weren’t picky.

The thought of the other boy sent your heart into even more of a tissy, thinking back to how scantily clad he was when you ran like a bat out of hell past him. Merlin, his shoulders, his arms, his thighs. Don’t even get you started on that slutty little waist of his. You were burning inside with arousal at the mere thought of him leaning over you, his tanned, heavenly freckled arms caging your head in on either side.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You quickly shed the rest of your clothes from your body, taking the time to fold your underwear and slip dress for later and placing them on the sink— everything else you kicked away into a pile next to Sebastian’s things. There was something so…domestic about your clothes mingled together on the floor. Stepping into the scalding hot water sent a lovely shock through your system, heating your freezing skin back to a normal temperature. The moan that left your throat was damn near sinful. You soaked in the water for a good while, letting the stress of the evening shed from you like the droplets of rain smacking against the windowpane. It was complete bliss, being alone with nothing but your thoughts and the sweet smell of the lavender soap that the inn provided. Your thoughts began to wonder again, thinking about what Ominis’ lips would have felt like against yours. They looked so incredibly soft, and you wondered if they would feel like kissing little tiny clouds— if they would be just as pillowy pressed against the rest of your skin. You closed your eyes and let your mind drift, allowing yourself the smallest bit of indulgence in your insatiable appetite. The picture behind your eyes shifted to Sebastian, how the rain ran down his neck, dripping down his pulse and pooling in the tiny dips of his collarbones under the translucent fabric of his collar. You wondered what the water would taste like on his skin. Would it be salty, like sweat? Mild, like rain normally was? Sweet, like the promise of more to come? You bit your lip against the small whine that threatened to leave your mouth, quickly pulling your hand away from where it began to bury in your naked core. No! You couldn’t do that right now, they were just outside the door!

With the last little bit of self control you had left, you stood from your watery paradise and dried off with the towel hanging on the rack closest to you. You just had to get through this night, then you could go back to the castle and have as much solo fun as you wanted.

The universe must have truly wanted you to die of embarrassment, because as soon as you left the sanctuary of the bathroom you ran into the scrumptiously sturdy chest of Ominis, causing him to grab you roughly by the hips so you didn’t go tumbling and press his entire body flush with yours. His heavy panting breaths were perfectly level with your ear at that angle, filling your mind once again with the tantalizing thoughts that you fought so hard to keep at bay. Your spine dug harshly into the door jam as you fell back from the velocity of the crash, your heart skipping a beat at the feeling of his fingers tightening against the silk of your shift and the look of intrigued confusion turning down his face at the unfamiliar feeling fabric. Merlin, his face was so close again. His hands glided up your waist, feeling each and every one of your curves like a ship captain charting out the stars, ever so lightly grazing the sides of your breasts before finding purchase on your bare shoulders. Only when his fingers dug deliciously into your skin and you gasped against him did he realize exactly how scantily clad you were. The blond made a noise very similar to a strangled kneazle and lept back, nearly crashing into the other side of the room. If eyes could speak, his would be screaming. Only now with him at arms distance did you notice the absolutely breathtaking pink that took over his entire face and neck, making his beauty marks stand out against his skin like brushstrokes by the finest painter in all the land. You shamelessly trailed your eyes down his chest again, watching it rise and fall from the sheer desperation of his lungs fighting to get air to his brain. Speaking of brains, your eyes made one last jump down to his trousers, finding the fabric pulled taut against his hips and silhouetting a quite lovely shape against his thigh— something you vaguely remember feeling against your own thigh moments ago. You swallowed the moan that threatened to tumble from your throat, your thighs clenching together slightly. You’d drop to your knees and pray at the church of him at that very second if you weren’t so damned shy.

Ominis scrambled upright fully, dancing from foot to foot out of embarrassment before tripping into the bathroom, only turning slightly in the doorway to throw an apology in your direction. “Oh my— I just— I’m terribly sorry— I’m just going to— oh, Merlin—”

The door closed with a slam, the lock twisting with a resounding click soon after.

A dark-colored chuckle from your left drew your attention, twisting your neck towards the waiting Slytherin now man-spreading on the bed, a pillow pressed just so across his lap. The devilish smirk stretched further across Sebastian’s face at the barely concealed arousal that grew in your eyes. Your pupils flickered from his face down to the feather-down cushion, imagining the treasure that you could find underneath the layers of cotton and tuff.

Somehow you were able to gulp against the Sahara Desert levels of dry that your mouth was at the current moment.

The brunette patted the bed next to him invitingly, shifting slightly over out of courtesy as you stumbled over, your legs feeling like gelatin from a mix of the lust and exhaustion that mingled in your veins. His eyes never left yours as you sat, feeling him drink in the sight of you in nothing but your underclothes, dangerously dehydrated.

“How was your bath?” He asked, a smugness you were very familiar with teasing knowingly in his voice.

You giggled nervously, smoothing your hands down your thighs to wipe the sweat from your palms. “It was nice— very comfortable.”

Sebastian chuckled again, his face leaning in closer to you like he was whispering a secret. “It certainly sounded like it.”

It felt like your heart was beating at a mile a minute. Where did this confidence come from all of a sudden? What happened while you were in the bathroom?

You thought back to the tent in Ominis’ trousers, casting your gaze back down to the pillow adorning Sebastian’s lap.

There was absolutely no way. Surely not?

Sebastian answered that question for you when he rested his hand on your thigh, smoothing his fingers up and under the silk fabric slightly and rubbing his thumb against your sweltering skin. “I can say with complete honesty that we also enjoyed your bath.”

You’d drowned in the bathtub, that had to be the answer for this fever dream— that was the only answer to this sudden shift in personality by your ravenous brunette friend. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive, lick you down to the bone and suck the marrow from inside like a perfectly cooked t-bone steak. You could tell he still had some restraint about him from the way that he fisted the bed sheets he was leaning his other arm on, keeping his body upright and stopping him from all but throwing you onto the mattress and devouring you like his favorite meal. Heat continued to pool more and more in your core, your abdomen tightening against the pleasure pulsing in your lower stomach.

“S-Sebastian—”

He plowed through your sentence, his niceties and manners giving way to the carnal desire throbbing under his skin. “That being said, I’m sure we could have even more fun out here, couldn’t we?”

His hot breath fanned across your face like a delectable fire, turning your insides to mush and threatening to do the same with your rational thought. You placed your hand against the center of his very toned chest— Merlin— and pushed him away slightly, inhaling air into your shivering lungs like it was your job.

“Sebastian, Ominis is right there. We can’t—”

He scoffed, dragging the hand on your thigh the rest of the way under your slip and wrapping it around your waist, pulling you closer to him harshly, causing you to lose your balance and press as close as possible to him. He leaned his face upwards, something unfamiliar but dangerous glittering in his irises as he whispered in your ear— his sinful smile pinning against the edge of your jaw.

“I assure you, he liked it too, lovely. I don’t think he’d be opposed to some…” He bit lightly at your earlobe, a soft moan breathing from your lips at his intrusion. “…auditory stimulation.”

Fuck it. Restraint never did you any favors, anyway.

He leaned his head downwards towards where your neck met your shoulder, nosing at the soft skin there before letting his teeth run gently against your pulse point. You moaned in earnest this time, not caring one bit if the blond behind the door mere feet away could hear you.

Good, you thought. Let him hear.

A loud crash came from the bathroom, startling Sebastian enough that he thrust his head upwards, catching on your chin painfully. You hissed, cradling the bruised bone in your hands as he quickly apologized, turning his full attention to the closed door just beyond. Ominis threw the door open, not even flinching when the door handle violently slammed against the wall, creating a dent in the drywall.

The blond stood there in all his glory, his chest heaving even harder now and a color closer to a ripe dragonfruit covering every inch of his skin. He had obviously just gotten out of the bath; his hair hung low in his face and dripped water steadily on the shoulder of his white undershirt. He too had taken everything off except his underclothes, his boxers hugging his hips in an absolutely scandalous way that made you want to rip them off then and there and get to the appetizing muscle tenting the fabric— Gods, he can never wear clothes around you ever again. Fighting your eyes to stop ogling the poor man, you cast your gaze to the floor just behind his feet, seeing a long bar of metal still rolling slightly against the tile and the towel that was once wrapped around it. On the wall where there was once a towel rack was now barren, just two holes decorating the space where it once lived. With one final eye flick, you look at Ominis’ hand closest to the scene of the crime, noticing that his fingers were a bright red from all the blood returning to the flesh. The puzzle pieces connected together in your brain after a few sluggish, very horny seconds.

Oh. Oh my. Ominis heard everything that just happened. Not only did he hear it, he liked it so much he accidentally ripped the towel rack off the wall with his desperation to open the door and hear it without the door muffling your sounds.

Sebastian must have come to the same conclusion as you, because his grin doubled in size with each passing second as he undressed the flustered blond with his eyes. “Ominis, what’s wrong—”

The once regal Slytherin crossed the room faster than you had ever seen him move before, quickly feeling his way up the brunette’s arm before grasping at his neck, pulling him closer and crashing their mouths together in a show of more teeth than lips. Sebastian responded eagerly, groaning low in his chest and threading his fingers in the wet tresses of his friend, pulling the blond closer against him in an awkward angle. You stared wide-eyed at the sight before you, watching your two best friends devour each other in a clash of lips and tongue, listening to the unseemly sounds that flowed in the air around them. You couldn’t help the feeble whimper that escaped your parted lips, drawing the attention of the esurient heir of Slytherin. Sebastian whined as Ominis pulled away from the embrace, only to choke on the sound at the sight of the blond surging forwards towards you with just as much ferocity as before and capturing your lips into an equally bruising kiss. His tongue dove into your open mouth, taking your invitation to explore with grandeur and mingling the soft muscle with yours. You fisted at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer and shifting backwards on the bed, pulling him downwards with you until he was laying on top of you. One of your hands reached up and buried itself in the thick blond locks of the one absolutely inhaling the sweet taste of your lips like the boy before did, your other falling to his waist and pushing underneath the hem of his shirt, running your palm across the hot skin of his stomach. All inhibition and propriety was thrown out the window just as fast as the downpour fell from the sky outside.

A third hand joined the fray— Sebastian’s resuming his original journey up the side of your underclothes and reaching your stomach, pushing the fabric up your supple thighs until it pooled at your waist, leaving your white cotton panties on show for all the world to see. He groaned in pain at the sight of the obvious wet patch right in the center, diving his face towards your open and inviting neck and biting at the skin there. You keened into Ominis’ mouth, arching your back off the bed and pressing the puddle of molten lava that resided between your legs against the blond’s hard length. He moaned heavenly against your lips, kissing his way down your cheek and jaw until he too latched his teeth onto your neck like his Slytherin counterpart. You were in absolute bliss, your brain shutting off and losing itself in the sweet pleasure that coursed through your entire body. This alone was going to kill you, and you would happily die in this battle of tongue and teeth.

May Odin take you into his waiting arms as you enter through the gates of Valhalla— this was certainly a war worthy for the land of kings and queens.

Everything was a rush of emotion, all feelings that had been buried deep down in your souls surging to the surface in one grand swoop. Laying there, a tangle of limbs and underclothes and sugar-scented breaths felt like it was exactly where you belonged in the world. With one head on each side of your neck, you could easily reach up and pull them by the hair closer into your orbit— you the sun and them the lowly planets revolving around your devastatingly bright euphoria.

You’d be perfectly content letting them worship you like this for the rest of time, but Ominis was always a bit more greedy than Sebastian when it came to the desires of the senses. The blond slowly made his way down to your chest, only stopping to pull your clothes from your body before diving right back into your soft, pillowy hereafter. He found your breasts quickly, letting his skilled hands first squeeze the flesh before tweaking your nipples, making them stand to a perfect peak before latching his mouth to the button and sucking. Your back lifted off the bed more, pathetic whines and mewls tumbling from your throat every so often, only to be broken up by whimpers of your companions' names. Sebastian smiled wickedly against your pulse, continuing to bite and nibble at the skin there as the hand not busy wrapped around your throat reached down and pawed at your other, very neglected mound of flesh. He wanted to only hear those sounds from then on out— wanted to hear even more of them.

Ominis pulled off of your peak with an absolutely raunchy pop, pressing one of his arms against your hips when he felt you grind against his throbbing length as your lovers pleased you. He nipped lightly at the skin in between your mountains, nosing gently at your sternum and whispering against your ribs.

“None of that yet. Let us take care of you, darling.”

Your heart stopped for a full five seconds— goodbye cruel world. Cause of death: horny boy with a penchant for people-pleasing.

You sighed shakily, your words stuttered and soaking in flustered arousal. “O-Okay…”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest and shaking against you. “Good. You sound so beautiful like this. What I would give to see you spread out below us— my hands can only just suffice my craving.”

A particularly loud sob falls from your lips at the feeling of Sebastian tweaking your nipple with just the right amount of pressure. “Am I dreaming?”

It was Sebastian’s turn to laugh, his breath warming the skin of your collarbone. “I really hope not, because then all three of us would be dreaming the same thing. We don’t need Professor Onai to see that in our crystal ball, do we?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. “You know what I me— oh fuck!”

In your blissful haze, you didn’t feel Ominis kiss his way down your body and situate himself between your thighs until he licked a long stripe along the dripping crotch of your panties. The brunette teasing you groaned again in agony at the sight of the other Slytherin’s thoroughly mussed up blond quiff poking out from between your inner thighs.

With a renewed vigor, Sebastian helped the blond pull your panties down your legs, latching back onto your neck like a leech once the offending fabric was far away from where his hands could roam. Ominis kneeled on the bed, face level with your sweltering center and breathing in the sweet, musky scent of your pleasure. Merlin, you were a goddess— your beguiling center the most saccharine ambrosia to him. He was sure if he ate you how he wished he too would become a god. You reached your hand down, fisting his hair between your trembling fingers and tugging lightly at the root, whining for him to move, to do something. You needed him on a biblical level. After centuries of waiting, Ominis repeated his movement from before, diving into your oceanic sea and lapping at your waves like Poseidon himself.

You’d never known pleasure like this before— never known indulgence like this before. He flicked his tongue against the painfully hard knot at the top of your center, pushing your clit lightly with just enough pressure before taking it into his mouth and suckling lightly. Stars burst behind your eyes, filling your world with supernovas dyed the color of your partners’ eyes.

Desperate to make them both feel good too, you reached your free hand towards Sebastian, wrapping your fist around his throbbing member that hung so nicely near your face and pulling it out of the strangling fabric of his boxers. He whined at the cool air against his scorching skin. One of your legs was thrown over Ominis’ shoulder, allowing the boy to get a better grip of you as he wolfed you down like a man starved and allowing you the ability to press his hips closer to the bed, grinding his manhood against the knitted blankets. His resulting moan, more of a growl if you had to be specific, sent vibrations right to the knot that was building in your lower stomach, tightening it closer to its inevitable snap. Sebastian’s eyes never left the scene before him as he sat up to his knees, wrapping his hand around yours and showing you how he liked to be touched as you bathed in the throes of rapture. Soon moans came from the both of you as you picked up on the rhythm, your voices harmonizing like a melodic hymn at the pews of gluttonous lust and stalling the gears turning in the brain of the blond between your legs. He began to shamelessly rut against the mattress below his hips, letting your leg press him down closer and providing an otherworldly amount of pressure against his still clothed cock. The friction pushed the band of his underwear down more and more with each thrust until his member was finally free. His bare skin against the vaguely soft blankets the inn provided felt astronomically better than before.

At the sound of Ominis’ self pleasuring, the cries of the people he loved so shamefully before in just the comfort of his mind becoming so much for him to handle that he couldn’t wait one more moment to feel something against his agonizingly hard cock, you pull Sebastian closer by his member, hoping he got the message you were trying to convey without words. He luckily did, a hungry look taking over his expression as he got off the bed, pulling your body closer to the edge so your mouth was exactly level with him. He groaned when he felt your soft lips close around the pulsating pink tip of his shaft, your tongue flicking against the prominent vein that stretched from the top to the bottom. Ominis moaned again against your clit, hearing what was going on above him and grinding his member against the bed with more vigor than before, causing you to rock your hips harshly against his face and pull more of Sebastian into your throat. The brunette couldn’t hold back his inhibitions anymore; with a firm grip he wrapped his hand around your neck for a second time that night, using the leverage provided to fuck into your mouth slowly.

No words needed to be said by anyone involved, each of you taken over by pure, wanton frenzy. Being used by Sebastian was a religious experience in itself, and you just a devout follower eager to please— Ominis your angel from above, pouring devotion into his every move, rewarding you for a job well done.

Your muted hums quickly became louder against Sebastian’s cock when Ominis pressed a digit into your weeping hole, stretching you just right and curling against the spot that made you believe heaven was real. The combination of your throat vibrating against him and your tongue flicking just under the ridge of his head was all it took to do him in indefinitely, his hips stuttering in your velvet mouth and the hand not wrapped around your throat tugging at your hair, trying to pull you off of him. You held on tighter, your free hand gripping his thigh and keeping him right where he was.

Absolutely not.

Sebastian’s eyes rolled back into his head when you closed your lips tighter and sucked, sending profanities to pour from his mouth like a broken faucet.

“Oh fuck— Yes, Merlin, just like that— Shit, I’m gonna cum. Take it all for me— good girl—”

You caught every drop of his salty release as it slid down your throat, letting your legs squeeze tighter against Ominis’ skull at the sweeter-than-candy whine that released from the brunette above you.

With one partner spent, you were determined to meet him soon in his little death and take the other Slytherin with you. With the last bit of your strength, you grinded against Ominis’ face, chasing the orgasm that crested just under the surface of your skin. The blond did the same with a muffled growl, pulling you tighter against his frantic mouth and letting you suffocate him in your enticing embrace as he rutted his hips against the mattress to near completion. With one more strong suck on your clit, timed perfectly with a curl of his finger inside of you, you tumbled over the edge of your metaphorical cliff. Sebastian thought through his orgasmic haze that nearly everyone in the inn must have heard your screaming finish. Ominis followed you soon after, his release staining the sheets below him as your thighs tightened impossibly more against his ears as your climax ripped through your system.

The three of you crumpled together onto the bed, tangled in a messy knot of limbs and desperately needing a second bath as you fought off exhaustion just enough to climb under the covers. Once the blanket covered all of your naked forms, you dozed off into a pleasant slumber, one arm slung over the waist of the brunette cradled in your shoulder and the other hand resting on the crossed forearms of the blond hugged against your back. Conversation could happen tomorrow; for now, the night was growing old and you needed all of your energy for the trek home tomorrow.

As you were drifting off into dreamland, you thought to yourself that the soft sound of the rain against the shuttered windows of the inn was the most peaceful sound you had ever heard.

I think I let the religious trauma go a little too wild with this one, whoops.

***

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bubzebii · 1 year ago

Text

We all have cravings

Yan! Mikey x reader

This is kinda like a part two for the Yan Mikey hc I made. Also just know this is strictly fiction, I do NOT support this Irl if you do please seek help. This is my contribution to horrortober ig. I did not proof read this at all so I hope u enjoy my brain rot.

Tw: build up, poor writing, blood, kidnapping, yandere themes, cannibalistic themes, anxiety, panic attacks, nonconsensual touching (nonsexual), overall bad time for y/n

I hate my job. Customer service is bitch in a half, I swear to god customer service employees are doing gods work. I can’t even wipe tables in piece without some lady yelling at me about how her frappe has too much ice like it’s a global issue. What’s worse is how I spend 8 hours of my life for this, I need a better job.

Walking down the slightly empty streets of New York, my body aching for my beloved bed. I look at the shops as I walk by, absorbing all the trinkets and doodads inside. One place though, stopped me in my tracks, a quaint little bakery near by an alleyway. the inside had a golden glow to it, it was almost unreal, beautiful, and the smell was amazing.

so as any normal young adult would do, I walk in, not knowing what I want to buy. I instantly feel regret setting inside my stomach, why did I walk in? Oh god I can’t just leave without buying anything, maybe they didn’t noticed I walked in? Looking around right as that thought sped through my mind, I made eye contact with the baker, they greeted me, but god of course they saw me.

Well due to social obligation, I HAVE to buy something. Panic started to rise as I still have no idea what to buy, knowing the baker isn’t even rushing me, the panic is still there. Just as I thought all hope was lost, I felt another pair of eyes on me. Turning I see a man in a trench coat and fedora, staring at me through the glass like I’m one of the wonders of the world. Weirdo. We make eye context for a second before he snaps out of it, and stumbles inside.

Thank god, an out I thought as the man walked closer to the counter. “You can order first if you’d like, Im still deciding.” We made eye contact again, despite the added difficulty the fedora he was wearing made. “Wow, thanks stranger! You know this place has some delicious raspberry sweet rolls! I totally recommend them if you haven’t tried any!” Sweet rolls? As a recommendation? This dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder, but considering I don’t know what else to get, I might as well try it, what’s the harm? “Hmm that does sound tempting, maybe I will” making sure to add a smile after, the man seems to beam at my remark. “Trust me, they are AMAZING especially with some chamomile tea and vanilla scones”

Pfft- What are you? A rich old white British lady? “Pfft hahahah! Good one, it really does sound like I am huh?” He continues to laugh even harder as the “joke” sets in as I stare in shock and horror. Did I really just say that out loud? “My names Mikey, what’s yours stranger?” He says while wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh uhm- y/n” were doing introductions now I guess. “Well y/n it’s nice to meet you” holding his hand out, I didn’t fail to notice the green skin and the three fingers outstretched towards me.

Oh my god, what the hell?! An excuse, think of an excuse. “We should probably order, don’t wanna hold up the line” good one me. He looks behind us and I follow suit; low and behold, no one else of course. He chuckles before turning back to me and says, “I guess you have a point”. Retracting his hand he turns to the cashier and places his order. The cashier told him that he’s gonna have to wait for 20 minutes for it to be ready, Mikey nods and turns to me before asking the cashier for those raspberry sweet rolls. Oh god-

“Oh can you make those separate?” I sputter before Mikey quickly answers, “I insist, I don’t want you to waste your money if you don’t like it!” Convincing argument plus free food? You win this round “Mikey”.

After paying Mikey and I go to sit down at a nearby booth. Maybe I have him pegged wrong my mind started rationalizing. Maybe it’s a medical condition? We sat for a good minute in silence as I’m overthinking per usual. “So, what do plan to do with a whole loaf of zope bread?” I say to avoid the loud thoughts buzzing through my head. “Oh! Well I was planning on making it myself but I might as well try this places zone, I’m planning on pairing it with some-“ before he can continue, the cashier called out the raspberry sweet rolls to catch out attention.

I got the rolls and walked back to the booth. “Well, here’s my order”

…

“So…see ya…”

Before I could even take a step though, Mikey shot up “whaaat?! B-but you didn’t even try it! I want to see if you like it or not!” He stared at me with pleading eyes, like a dog begging it’s human for a treat. Why is he so invested in this? “I didn’t think you’d want to know my feedback..” “well duhhh, I recommend it to you, I just have to know i hit the nail on the head!” Oh… well whatever it takes to leave faster. I grabbed a roll and popped it in my mouth, it was EXPLODING with flavor. I think Mikey could tell with the knowing smirk that spread across his face.

After that we started talking more in the restaurant, I got to know him more. Apparently he has three more brothers, when he made me guess which one he was, it wasn’t hard to tell he’s the youngest. Eventually his order was done, disappointment sent in me because, well, this was actually a pleasant interaction with a not so total stranger. Acquaintance if you will. By the time his order was ready, I already ate all the rolls, so I guess this is it.

“It was nice meeting you, I didn’t really plan staying out this late.” I said as we walked out, the sky nearly dark. “It was reallyyy nice meeting you too, you know…” he stated reaching in his pocket. “If you need any more expert cooking advice, give me a call!”

That should’ve been it, but noooo, I just HAD to call back, we just HAD to get to know each other more, he just HAD to show me his “secret” identity…I just HAD to fall in love…no..for his tricks

It all started with food, a fucking roll no less. He fed me and like a wild animal I kept coming back. I ignored all the red flags, all my friends concerns, not noticing how they quickly left my life after venting to Mikey about them. I kept coming back for more like a dumb dumb animal.

But now here I am, a small closet with one twin bed and barren walls, no fan or vent. What did I do to deserve this? What avengers level threat did I cause to end up here? There’s barely anything to do besides relive old mistakes and sweat. Dare I say it, I even miss my job and being a useful member of society.

The door finally opened the reveal the devil himself, Mikey. But somethings off…I’ve been here long enough to read Mikey’s face like a book. He looks nervous, like he wants something nervous… fear started to creep within me, what did he want now?

Usually he brings stuff in like crafts or food and water, but this time, it’s just him. Closing the door behind him, he speaks. “Hi my Angel…” a grimace grew on my face. That nickname used to make me swoon, but now it makes me want to throw up. “I have a very important question to ask you”

This was the question that ruined my life…and I thought it couldn’t get any worse… he wanted me…ME. To… just the thought is making me gag- EAT HIM. LITERALLY. The thoughts in my head started swarming me, his justifications and explanations fall on deaf ears as the room swirls around me. He gently grabs my forearms snapping me back, since when did I start crying? I can’t even breath right, I feel like I’m drowning.

“Listen, I know it sounds really really REALLY crazy, but I need you to trust me… you’ll be okay. This will be good for us! We’ll be together all the time isn’t that great?” No, it’s not great, far from it actually. “I won’t force you to do it now of course, take your time, I’ll wait, I’ll always wait for you”

Ever since then, no matter how much I stalled, it was only putting off the inevitable. No matter what I did, it never swayed him. Actually, it did, but not how I would’ve wanted. He started giving me less and less to eat. It started off small with a few less portions, but I never noticed the twitch in his smile whenever I put down his encouragement to chomp on his arm. He started giving less portions and no breakfast anymore, id be lucky if he gave me dinner.

Im hungry, starving even. It hurts, it hurts so so much. He would always come in more often, lifting his arm and encouraging me to bite. “Come on, you can do it baby”. It pisses me off. How dare you kidnap me after I gave you my trust. How dare you put me in a cramped tiny room, having to solely rely on you for everything. HOW DARE YOU force me to break EVERYTHING I thought was RIGHT all while you look at me and TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.

I hate you. I failed to notice hot tears running down my face. I hate you. I also failed to notice how hard I shook, how my teeth grinding against each other until it hurt. FUCKING I HATE YOU

Red, it’s all I can see. I used laughing when any character in media say they saw red, can you blame me? It sounds so…dumb, but I get it now. I understand, how ironic. Apparently, I could..taste red too…

Snapping back to reality a brick of drowsiness crashes down onto me, I must’ve had some high adrenaline because my jaw started hurting like a bitch. Liquid runs down my jaw, it’s warm..fresh. Why do I feel something on my tongue-

Shock slaps me in the face, my eyes go as wide as saucers, what have I done?? Looking up at Mikey I see the sheer amount of euphoria in his face, his eyes holding so much love, it might spill out. I need this thing out of me, I need HIM out. I gag trying to spit it out but he quickly puts his hand on my mouth. “you can do it, swallow quickly, it’ll all be over, your doing amazing” I don’t even think before swallow the lump down. The worst part about this whole experience was feeling the lump of meat slide down my throat and plop into my stomach. My mouth instantly starts salivating, and I’m forced to question if it’s because of the hunger still in me or the sheer amount of disgust and horror in me trying to throw it up while Mikey whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

Everything is too much. The air is too hot, too heavy, too wet. It feels horrible on my skin. It’s too noisy, to crowded, too much. Mikey only hugs me tight to his chest, his arm still bleeding , all while I lean in considering how it’s the only comfort I’ll get out of this hell hole. “I knew you’d trust me…I love you.. so so sooo much. I’ll never leave your side. We’re bound together as one, isn’t that great?”

All I could do was sob violently, slowly passing out, everything slowly fading to black.

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #yandere rottmnt #yandere #yandere michelangelo #yandere mikey #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #wtf is wrong with me

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rinxelea · 5 months ago

Text

oh, darling, would you kill for me? | gojo satoru

wc. 1.3k

tags. forbidden romance, mention of guns and death, implied drugging, violence. a little dark ngl

preview. having been raised in opposite households, you knew that there was no hope between you and gojo satoru. but satoru keeps his promises, even if it means he has to put a bullet through somebody's head in order to kiss you.

it's a simple thing, really.

you rotate the words in your mind, trying to make sense of it. satoru's voice lingers like an echo, the tip of his tongue murmuring the silent words: "let me help."

there's nothing to help you with. satoru is the wealthy heir of a kingdom, and you are, well... you. still an heir, but in a far less...pleasant place. you hold power in the underground while satoru basks in the daylight: fancy halls, expensive wine, blithering nobles, and all. it's as simple as that.

you would have had to say goodbye eventually. it just so happens that satoru's advisors found out and forbid you to go see him again if you didn't want to see satoru locked away. you were young. you were in love. it happens.

you scoff to yourself quietly, anyway. as if they didn't already lock him away.

"if you would just let me help," satoru's grip on your arm is sure to leave a bruise. you can't look at his face. you can't see the desperation in his eyes, nor can you acknowledge that this will be your last goodbye. "i can help you, i can get you out."

you snort, rotating the barrel in your hands before pointing it at the shaking bastard kneeling between your feet. it's pointless to reminisce on old memories. what a fool. a lovesick, deluded fool.

"if you would just-"

"if i would just what? leave where i've come from, marry you, and live happily ever after?" the words fall out of your lips with bitterness, your restraint long gone. satoru looked pissed, a mixture of anger and wildness in his normally calm face. you wanted to apologize, but you knew you had to go back where you came from, go back where there was no satoru by your side. "grow up, satoru."

"yes! because i'll marry you in a heartbeat. fuck what they think." your lover ran his fingers through his neat hair, messing it up. if it were any other time, you would have loved to do it yourself. "listen. i'll come back for you. i'll come back, and we'll be okay. i promise."

you didn't say anything.

you didn't have to.

"i-i'm sorry!" the man wailed, a mixture of snot and tears running down his face. you click your tongue, pressing the gun to the man's temple. a spy, or at least you think so. even if you'll never admit it, you're more distracted by what happened than you thought, and your fingers are aching for something red. "please, i swear i'll-"

with blood coating your hands, you press the trigger.

...

3 years. 3 years, and satoru decides to come back in the worst fucking time, just when the two factions are in the middle of a squabble and the atmosphere tightened around them all like a vice.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" your shaking hands grasp the front of satoru's tailored suit, your eyes piercing through blue. there's a little, traitorous piece of your heart longing to get closer, to see if this was real, if satoru really came back for you after 3 years of separation. "you idiot."

the sound of gunshots echoes through your fuzzy mind, the blood loss from the gunshot wound acting up on you. you had to protect satoru from the blow. you had to. because the man apparently had zero self-preservation and deemed it alright to strut inside of your domain as if he wouldn't be eaten alive by the people there in a second.

"are you hurt?" you frantically pat satoru down, and let out a sigh of relief when you find that he's all in one piece. satoru is the one left to check up on you when the wound through your side acts up, pain permeating your every being. "fuck."

he says your name. satoru's voice passes through you like a gentle wave, cradling your head slowly, back and forth, back and forth. fuck. you need to focus. you need to get satoru out. he repeats your name, and this time, you can tell he's a little desperate.

"gojo." you hiss out, shaking your head as if it would make it any clearer. you groan when it only results in nausea. "we need to get out." you punctuate each word, wanting to make sure that satoru understands.

"okay." satoru says, gently. he's way too fucking calm for your liking. there's an arm around your back, now, supporting you as your surroundings ebbed and flowed like a blurry photograph. you vaguely feel getting lifted up, hearing some mumbled words and a ringing gunshot before you pass out in satoru's arms, the world fading to black.

...

there's no one and nothing there to notice satoru's smile.

nothing, except the innocent empty drink in front of your desk, and the corpse of the bastard who dared to lay a hand on what was his.

...

you wake up in an unfamiliar room, the lights almost blinding you when you open your eyes. the room is certainly lavish, gold and silver decorations adorning every corner, with silk sheets and cotton blankets all around you. you feel a deep urge to sink into the pillows, unsure of what the fuck happened but entirely too tired to give too much of a shit.

the moments pass in relative silence, until the door creaked, revealing none other than gojo satoru. despite expecting his appearance, you still feel surprised, though you're not sure if that's over his situation or the fact that satoru has grown...well.

fuck, who were you kidding. satoru looked delectable as hell. he's grown into his looks, it seems like, the youthful boyishness of his face being replaced by a more ethereal beauty. that isn't even mentioning his build, which was - oh.

when he says your name, you can't help it. your stomach is doing flips. it's still your favorite melody. you feel a little out of it, if you're being honest, your vision blurred at the edges. "how are you feeling?"

the bed dips with the extra weight as satoru sits next to you. your throat is dry, and your mouth is too heavy to speak. you op to nod instead, looking at the wall beside satoru's face. you're not sure if you could look at him. you know you'll break.

"here." you hastily drink the glass of water satoru hands you, your throat thanking you for the ailment. it makes your head a little clearer, too, and you're finally able to take a glance at satoru, able to see him here again up close.

satoru sighs, and you feel a pin drop in your stomach. why is he sad? you flinch minutely when you feel a gentle hand carding through your hair, but ultimately relax at the familiar hold. "i'm sorry."

"mhn," you groan out, your head still aching. what is satoru sorry for? how did you end up here, when you stepping into satoru's house should have been taken as a declaration of war by its other inhabitants? unless, of course, you were a captive. "what d'you mean?"

the hand in your hair pauses for a second, then resumes. "nevermind, it's nothing. it's okay." satoru says, and presses a kiss to your open lips. you want to retort, want to ask what happened, why you were here, but satoru swallows them all, makes a home out of your mouth once more. "i promised you, didn't i? i told you i'd come back, and we'd be together."

for once, you believe him. the questions can wait. satoru is more important. you lean into the persistent touches, a rumbling sound coming out of you like a purr. you look up in time to see the pleased look in satoru's face, and fully let yourself submit, let yourself sink in the feathery light feeling.

"we can be together now." satoru murmurs, his lips pressing a light kiss to your forehead. you preen at the attention, your body a livewire awaiting your lover's every touch. "it's okay."

"satoru." you whisper, your breaths intermingling with one another now that you're so close. satoru's eyes widen, and he kisses you again, and again, and again, until you're both breathless.

"i'm here." satoru promises you, a protective hand curling around your waist. it's an ocean wave, engulfing your body and cradling you like a lost, floating raft, finally succumbing. "i always will be."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #i keep forgetting to put tags :/#rin.writes

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aanoia · 16 days ago

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Orphic (pt.1)

pairing; Ao'nung x Sully!reader Orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding words; 3,719 warnings; injury, mentions of death Pt. 2; Pt. 3 Important note; this is sort of a continuation of a previous story that can be found on my Wattpad. It's not required to read that story, in fact it was written years ago (now it's very poorly written, but then it was my best writing). It will give backstory on your parents. Speaking of your parents, you were born to Tsu'tey and Y/n. Tsu'tey died the same death as in the movie, and Y/n died during childbirth. Jake and Neytiri took you in and named you after your mother. You're basically twins with Neteyam :) Bold is English :) the normal text is Na'vi

Decided to stray from my Marauders era for the time being, as I rewatched the Avatar movies and that phase is coming back. This is mostly a trial to see if I want to post this series on Tumblr, or just on Wattpad. The format will probably change a bit as time goes on :)

The ground beneath her rushes past as her ikran races through the air, following closely behind the group of older warriors. She stays steady on her ikran, completely in tune with her surroundings as her sharp eyes scan across the moving terrain. The unpleasant hum of the skywalker machines fill her ears, and her lip subconsciously curls into a sneer. Into view comes a train upon its foreign tracks, two helicopter-like vehicles hovering above it.

“Ground team, move.” Her father’s voice instructs in her ear. The track explodes, sending the front of the train flying and causing the aircrafts to veer off track. The experienced warriors dive, and she aches to follow suit, but she refrains. Only two others stay high in the sky, her brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak. She knows they crave the same thing she does, to go down and fight with the others. However, their father’s orders echo in their minds. The group of Na’vi work swiftly, bringing down the aircrafts and searching through the various cargo bins.

“Yo, we have got to get down there,” Lo’ak says, looking at his elder siblings with an excited look on his face.

“No way! Dad will skin us!” Neteyam protests.

“Come on, don’t be a wuss!” Lo’ak half shrugs, and his ikran changes directions, beginning to dive.

Y/n sighs, glancing at Neteyam, “Come on, little brother, we can’t let him have all the fun.” She grins, and flies after Lo’ak.

“Lo’ak! Y/n! Get back here- argh!” Neteyam groans, before reluctantly going along with them. The trio land, and Y/n gracefully dismounts her ikran, swinging her bow across her shoulder. Once again, she’s scanning her surroundings, taking note of any possible dangers, anything that could hurt her brothers.

“Come on, let’s go!” Lo’ak urges, already running into action.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam growls, running after the boy.

Said boy runs to a supply crate, where a warrior hands him a gun. “Go boy, take it.” Lo’ak happily takes the firearm, ululating proudly. Y/n and Neteyam walk towards him, the latter rather pissed off.

“You don’t even know how to use it.” He sneers, glancing distastefully at the gun in his hand.

Lo’ak successfully loads the gun, a smug grin on his face, “Dad taught me.” He raises the gun in the air, pretending to aim at something. “I bet you can’t aim.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Lo’ak, you can’t either.”

“Yeah- but I bet he’s worse than I am.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Neteyam mutters. A warrior calls out, and once again their father’s voice fills the air.

“Gunship’s inbound! Fall back!” He yells, and the three kids immediately take off to their ikrans. Neteyam urges the two others to run faster, and they all push. However, their efforts are in vain as an explosive goes off behind them, sending the three flying in the air. Y/n yelps, landing on a jagged piece of metal. She hisses at the pain searing through her back. She sits up, reaching behind her to find her fingers coated in a wet substance.

“Shit, dad is gonna kill me.” She mutters to herself, pushing herself to her feet. “Neteyam!? Lo’ak!?” She spots her father, turning over a blue body. She rushes over, dread filling her body. “Dad- is that-”

Neteyam groans, his face scrunched in pain, “Dad?”

Jake takes Neteyam by the back of his neck, lifting him up to check his back for any injuries. Upon seeing none, he growls at the boy. “What are you doing here, boy? What the hell were you thinking?” He glances at Y/n. “And you- are you alright?”

She bites her tongue and nods, “Yes, I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m- sor-sorry,” Neteyam grunts out, pain lacing his words as Jake lifts him over his shoulders.

“Go, Y/n. Now.” She nods upon her fathers demand, and rushes back to her ikran. She quietly calms its worried squawks, and takes off in flight. She follows the group through the mountains, trying to ignore the stinging in her back as she hangs her head low, afraid to meet her father’s stern gaze.

A loud horn blows as they make it home, and many Na’vi cheer and whoop upon their arrival. Y/n lands on the rock with a solemn face, and she winces softly as she dismounts, not so graceful as last time. She pets her ikran’s face gently, cooing.

“You did good, girl, thank you.” She whispers, restings her forehead against her ikran’s.

“Fall in.” Her father commands and she sucks in a breath. She pulls away from her ikran, following her father’s orders. He looks at the three children with an irritated look, and Y/n can’t help but notice the hints of worry mixed in. “You’re supposed to spotters. You spot bogeys, and you call ‘em in. From a distance.” He growls, looking back and forth between the children. “Does any of this sound familiar? Get here!” He commands Lo’ak, and the boy steps forward, joining the line. “Jesus, I let you three geniuses fly a mission, and you disobey direct orders.” In a softer voice he adds, “Kiri, can you go help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?” Y/n hisses softly as her mothers hands gently caress the skin around her wound.

Kiri glances at her father, “My brother is wounded.” She says in an obvious tone.

“It’s fine.” Neteyam reassures.

“Baby girl, please.” Jake pleads as Tuk gazes curiously at the scene. “Tuk, go with her, go!”

“Dad- sir, I take full responsibility.” Neteyam tries as Kiri and Tuk sigh and join their grandmother.

“What- no, he doesn’t.” Y/n butts in, glaring slightly at Neteyam.

“You do. That’s right. ‘Cause you’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” Y/n looks at him with a distasteful look. She’s the eldest. She was born many moments before Neteyam was. She looks at her feet, a dull ache in her chest.

“MaJake.” Neytiri says softly, a nice change in tone. “Your son, and your daughter, are actually bleeding.”

Jake looks between the two, and his gaze settles on Y/n. “You said you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine, sir.” She says quickly.

He stares at her for a moment, before sighing, “Just go and get patched up. Both of you. Go on, dismissed.” She hesitates for a second, but with her mother’s urging hand on her lower back, she walks, leaving Lo’ak alone to deal with their father.

Neteyam grunts in pain, hissing slightly. Y/n watches quietly from the corner of the room, having already gone through this. Lo’ak laughs, arms crossed as he taunts his brother. Their grandmother, the Tsahik, shakes her head at his antics as Tuk hands Neteyam a bowl and gently instructs him to drink.

“I would use yalna bark.” Kiri says out loud, standing to walk to her grandmother.

“Oh, you would? And who is Tsahik?” Her grandmother asks, continuing with patching her grandson.

“You are grand- move!” She shoves Lo’ak over. “You are, Grandmother. But yalna bark is better.” Neteyam hisses in pain. “Stings less.”

“Mighty warrior.” Lo’ak teases, earning himself a slap to his leg from his grandmother.

Y/n tunes the group out, zoning in on a spot on the floor. Her hands clasp tightly around her beaded necklace, one that belonged to her birth father. She wonders if he would have let her go down and join the rest, or if he would also have her be just lookout. Would he be angry at her, the way Jake seems to always be? She’s heard many stories about him. He was a great warrior. The People trusted him to bring them to victory against the sky people, and he died attempting to do so. He was mighty, and she feels like anything but. Her thoughts shift to her mother, Jake’s best friend. She was kind, and fierce. People would always speak of her fondly. She had to end her father’s suffering, breaking her own heart in the process. And then, once Y/n was born, she died. All Y/n has left of her is her name.

She will forever be thankful to Jake and Neytiri, who have filled the position of her mother and father. But she can’t help but wonder how her life would be different if her birth parents were alive. She feels a presence beside her and sighs softly, glancing over.

“Hey, sis, you alright?” Neteyam asks softly, looking over at her.

She nods a little, “Lo’ak got grounded.” She says quietly as said boy leaves with Kiri.

He hums, “I heard. No flying for a month.” He sucks in a breath, thankful he somehow avoided the punishment. Y/n nods and Neteyam studies her for moment. He notices the way she protectively holds onto her necklace. “Are you thinking about Tsu’tey again?”

“I always am.” She responds, back to looking at the floor. “I miss him, and I don’t even know him.”

He scoots a bit closer, nodding. “It’s alright, sis. He’s with Eywa, and he’s watching over you. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

She makes a face, “Yeah, maybe.” She glances up as Neytiri and Jake walk into the tent. She makes brief eye contact with her father, but quickly looks away. His sad gaze lingers on the girl, but upon Tuk’s begs to be picked up, he looks away.

Neteyam sighs softly, wrapping his arm around his sister’s shoulders, “Either way, you have me, big sister.”

Y/n glances at him, a ghost of a smile on her face. She holds out her pinky, “Little brother.”

He grins, locking his finger with hers, “Big sister.”

“No matter how old we get.” She finishes softly, shaking his pinky like a handshake. “Thank you, Neteyam.”

He half shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s no biggie.” He pulls his hand away, and ruffles the top of her head. “I'll leave you to ponder, I need to speak to father.”

She smiles, “Try to keep your head.”

He stands, “I'll do my best.” And he walks towards their parents.

Y/n uses this chance to sneak off unnoticed. She silently slips out of the tent, and once she's a good distance away, she calls for her ikran. She takes a deep breath, and jumps from the edge, landing seamlessly on her ikran. The two immediately take off, and she ululates loudly as they go. Once his wings meet a steady rhythm, she spreads her arms out, basking in the final moments of sunlight. The warmth of the rays brings comfort to her skin, and she sighs deeply. The built up stress slowly fades away and her muscles relax.

Moments like these, completely alone and serene, not a worry in the world, are her favorite. It’s the only time she can truly relax. However, she doesn’t get many. The tight leash her father holds her on seems to be suffocating. She can never leave without notifying someone - and even then she can never leave by herself. Her father’s fear of something happening took over her life. So, whenever she gets the chance, she slips away, giving herself a moment of freedom.

Her ikran perches on the side of a cliff, and Y/n carefully climbs onto the small landing. She rests against a rock, looking up at the night sky. Her ikran purrs softly and curls up beside her, resting his head on her lap. She gently pets him, caught up in her own world.

Her serenity was interrupted by the hum of vehicles below her. She furrows her brows as her ikrans head perks up. She peers over the edge of the landing, her eyes searching for the noise. A seemingly rogue amp suit trudges through the forest, gun at the ready. She glances at her ikran, and in only a moment she’s on his back, stealthily gliding down. The sun slowly falls behind the trees, and the world gets darker, but she doesn’t turn for home. The pair land in the trees, and she silently instructs her ikran to stay back.

She runs through the trees, tracking the noises of the amp suit. The bow slung across her shoulder gently hits her thigh, and her ears perk up at every sound. She eventually catches up with the suit, and watches intently from the trees. A young man occupies the suit, and she notes his particular ugliness. Her stomach settles uncomfortably, and she swallows thickly.

“Mule, do you read?” Her dad’s irritated voice fills her ears, and she freezes. The sound catches her off guard, and she falls short of the branch she was reaching for. She yelps as she loses her balance on the tree. She shrieks, flailing her arms as she falls. She hits the ground with a thud and a groan, and the amp suit already has his gun pointed at her.

“Well, what do we have here?” He sneers, a nasty look on his features. She grunts, pushing herself to her feet despite the ache in her ankle. She doesn’t answer, instead slowly inching her hands to her bow. “Don’t you touch that thing.”

“Mule, I asked, "Do you read?””

“It’s getting dark out, did mommy and daddy not tell you to be home before the light dies?” He takes a step closer to the girl, and she bites her cheek, glancing around.

“I do not speak English, dipshit.” She sneers, glaring up at him.

“What was that? Speak English, beast.” A squawk fills the air, and the man's attention is drawn. Y/n takes this moment to dart between the robot's legs, pulling her bow off her shoulders. She swiftly climbs on top of the tree, pointing the arrow at the man. He points his gun, and fires aimlessly. The arrow leaves her bow, and strikes beside his head. She loads another arrow, and a searing pain shoots up her thigh. But she holds steady, and releases this arrow. The suit slumps, and falls to the ground.

Y/n glances down at her thigh and a pained look crosses her face, she lifts her hand to her throat. “Devil dog, I read.” She grunts out.

The answer is immediate, “Where’s your playground?”

She stumbles down the tree, calling for her ikran before answering, “By the mountain-” She hisses. “South side.”

There’s a pause, “Are you hurt?”

She sighs deeply, her ikran landing beside her. “Yes. I’m coming home.”

“No, stay where you are.” She takes off. “Mule, do you read?” No answer. “Goddamnit, Y/n.” She makes it home quickly, and her siblings immediately crowd her.

“Y/n- what were you thinking?” Neteyam rushes out, pushing past his siblings.

She grunts, feeling slightly dizzy from her bleeding bullet wound, “My leg.” She mutters, afraid to look down at it.

“My daughter!” Her mother shrieks, shoving the growing crowd. “My child- what has happened?”

“Mama-” She slides off of her ikran into her arms. Her leg gives out and she screws her eyes shut.

“Y/n!” It’s her father this time, who also shoves through the crowd. “Shit, Y/n- move! Everyone move!” Neytiri picks up the girl and follows after her mate, her face etched in worry.

“I’m sorry-” She whispers to her parents.

“Shh, save your energy, child.” Neytiri instructs softly as she sets her down on a fur blanket in their tent. Mo’at rushes in, gently pushing Jake aside to assess the wound. She makes quick work of setting up her supplies, a deep frown on her face.

“Y/n!” Neteyam rushes inside, despite his father’s protests. He slides next to Y/n, taking her hand tightly.

“We must remove the bullet. It will hurt, grandchild.” Mo’at says calmly. “Are you ready?” Y/n swallows thickly and nods.

“Okay,” She whispers, dreading the next few seconds. Her fear proved to be justified, as the pain of large makeshift tweezers digging through her thigh is unbearable. She tries to stay quiet, but a few whimpers and cries manage to escape. She relaxes once the bullet is removed, and sighs. “Ouch.” She mutters, sniffling softly.

Neytiri frowns at her daughter, “What were you doing out there so late?” Jake watches from the front of the tent, a hard look in his eyes.

“I just wanted-” She hisses. “To be alone, for a moment. I lost track of time.”

“And the sky people?”

“Came out of nowhere… he was alone. I was watching him, and then dad called for me, and I fell.” She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, shame filling her body.

“Where is this man?”

“Dead.” She replies grimly, slightly relieved as Mo’at wraps her thigh.

“You killed him?” Neteyam asks quietly, wonder in his eyes. Y/n nods solemnly. “Woah, cool.”

“Not cool.” Their father butts in, stepping forward. His hard gaze sets on his eldest. “I’m disappointed in you. You defied multiple rules. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t go out when it’s getting dark. Don’t interact with the sky people.” His arms are crossed, and his jaw clenched. “You could've died, do you realize that?”

Y/n’s gaze lowers, and she nods. “Yes, sir.”

Neytiri gives her mate a pointed look, “She could have died, so be thankful she didn’t. She has already received the punishment of her mistakes. All you must do is comfort her.”

“A shot to the leg isn’t enough- she should be grounded.”

“MaJake.” The heat in her eyes successfully quiets the man, and he sighs, shaking his head and storming out of the tent. Y/n frowns, sitting up slowly.

“I’m tired.” She mumbles.

“You cannot walk on your own, granddaughter. Your leg requires healing, and you must give it time to do so.” Mo’at says, a rare gentle tone in her voice. “I shall have a healer bring you crutches.”

Y/n nods, “Thank you, grandmother.” Mo’at nods and collects her things. She exchanges a few words with her daughter, before walking out. Her presence was replaced by a crying Tuk. She runs in and jumps into Y/n’s arms. “Woah- Tuk?”

“Are you dying?” Tuk asks, her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, no, no, Tuk. I’m alright. I’m not dying, silly.” She says softly, kissing Tuk’s forehead.

“Is your leg going to be cut off?” Lo’ak questions, much too excited about the idea, as he walks in.

“You wish.” She grins. Her siblings can always cheer her up, even if they aren’t trying to do so.

“I think you’re an idiot.” Kiri mentions.

“I think father agrees with you.” Y/n shrugs, still holding tightly onto Tuk. “Is my ikran okay?”

Kiri nods, “You’re ikran is just fine.”

She smiles gratefully, “Thank you. Now, let me sleep. I require slumber.”

Y/n sits, gently humming to herself as she makes a necklace. It’s only been a few days since she was injured, and she’s spent her down time making things for the people she’s loved. She’s already finished the things for her siblings, her mother, and her grandmother. All that’s left is her father. She must admit that she contemplated even making him one, but he really does mean the world to her. She’s determined to make this necklace perfect for him.

She glances up at the sound of ikrans landing, and her family is there. She hides the necklace quickly, and lifts herself up. She uses her crutches to step outside of the tent, a questioning look on her face.

“What’s going on?” She asks, and meets Lo’ak’s eyes. The boys gaze drifts to the ground and her brows furrow.

“All of you, go. I need to speak with your mother.” Jake demands and no one protests. The group of them go around the tent, and instead of giving them space, they eavesdrop on the conversation. The adults manage to get a few private words exchanged before the children listen in, “This thing. This Quaritch.” Y/n’s ears perk at the name. The villain of her parents’ stories. “Whatever he is- he walked right in here. He can walk right under Eywa’s nose.”

“This is our family! This is our home!” Neytiri defends.

“This is about our family! This is about our little ones.”

“I cannot. You cannot ask this.” Her mother steps past Jake. “I cannot leave my People. I will not.”

“He’s hunting us. He’s targeting our family.”

“You cannot ask this!” Neytiri snaps. “The children. Everything they’ve ever known. The forest. This is our home!” She yells, her voice urgent.

“He had our children. He had ‘em under his knife!” There’s a moment of silence before Neytiri let’s out a shaky breath.

“My father gave me this bow as he lay dying.” It wasn’t difficult for Y/n to know which bow she was speaking of. “And he said “Protect the People.” You’re Toruk Makto!”

“This will protect the People!” Jake yells. “Quaritch has Spider.” Y/n gasps softly, looking at Kiri with sad eyes. “And that kid knows everything. He knows our whole operation, and he can lead them right in here.” The eldest kids share a look. “If the People harbor us, they will die. Do you understand?” They’re silent for a moment. “Look, I got nothing. I got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do.” Neytiri gasps softly, her face twisting in pain. “But I know one thing.” Her father whispers. “Wherever we go, this family is our fortress.”

Neytiri sighs, and embraces her mate tearily. Jake sighs softly, his heart heavy. Y/n glances between her siblings.

“You guys need to tell me what happened. Now.”

Y/n waits patiently on her ikran for the ceremony to end. She cannot walk well, so she doesn’t attempt to stand with her family as the new Olo’eyktan to “kill” her father. She keeps her bag close to her hip, her creations kept safely stored inside. She frowns as her family walks towards her, her mother cries silently.

Not a word is spoken as they begin their journey to the islands. Y/n glances behind her at the forest for the last time, and she can’t help but feel as if she’s leaving behind a vital part of her. She’s leaving behind her birth parents. Their memories. She sighs and looks forward, holding tightly onto her necklace.

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning. One life ends. Another begins.

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vanillasn0w · 1 month ago

Text

Always and Forever.

Little blurbs about Y/N and Elvis's relationship.

His love for you expanded on what love normally was. It was more than love; he wasn't just a boyfriend, he was your mate. Your life mate. You were bonded by both blood and love. His blood was yours and your blood was his. You belonged to his body and he belonged to your body. Your love was sempiturnal. There was no other word for it.

He loves you irrevocably and you love him the same. If you died, he died. If he died, you died. Both souls become like butterflies when you touch, you feel like you are both flying. There is a flutter inside your chests as well, when you touch. Both souls become like butterflies. When you kiss, there is a warmth like a fire that spreads to your heart.

He calls you "sapphire" because of your eyes. You simply call him, "love."

That is what he is. He is your special love. He is the most dignified, honorable, kind man you have ever met. Your love for him will cause you to do anything for him; absolutely anything. You would fix him dinner in Antarctica without a coat, if it came to it. You would climb one of the pyramids for him. You would swim miles and miles and miles of the Amazon with piranhas. If any of these things meant making him happy, you would do it in a heart beat, without any hesitation.

______________

One night you come home to strawberry pancakes in the shape of a Mickey Mouse. It makes you smile and because of that; it makes him smile. He draws, "I love you," in the whipped cream and lays out blueberries for you in a bowl.

You smile at him. "Thanks so much, love. This was very nice of you to do."

"Anything for my sapphire angel."

You smile and both of you lean in for a kiss. It's chaste and full of passion, that passion causing a drum beat in your heart.

When you pull away, he smiles at you.

"Man, I sure did get lucky." He says, with glee.

____________________

When you first move in with each other, he draws hearts all over your boxes. You put a prank in one of his boxes. You watch him very closely as he opens the special box.

Upon opening it, thousands and thousands of bits of colorful paper confetti, come flying out. He curses and you just laugh, hiding behind the wall.

"Dammit, Y/N! I am going to get you!"

You run and he finds you running away causing him to run after you, grinning.

"I am going to get you!"

She runs to the section of the house by the front windows, he chases recklessly.

You trip which means he also trips since he is behind you, and you both collapse on the couch, laughing. This was love at its finest, laughing together and having fun with one another. To laugh together meant being whole with each other. To be whole while being in love was Elvis's dream. So many relationships he has been in he hasn't felt whole. He hasn't felt one with the person until now. He hasn't had as much fun as he's had now. And love? He thinks love should be fun.

They continue to laugh until Elvis presses a kiss to her lips.

"How can I punish you?" There must be a way.' He says with a smile.

"Well, withholding food isn't an option. Maybe..."

"Maybe we should figure that out in the bedroom."

She blushes, agreeing with him.

You continue to unpack, Elvis helping. You end up finding a picture of you two on your first date, him looking a little bit younger, but still so handsome. He wore a two piece suit and black dress pants, looking absolutely amazing.

You both admire the picture for a moment.

“You looked so beautiful that night.” He says.

“Me? What about you?”

He shrugs.

“Oh, c’mon, you know you looked good that night.”

“I did my best.”

There is a pause in the conversation as you both look at the picture again.

“Your best blew me away.”

He looks at you and smiles.

“Thanks.”

That was the night when I knew you were the one for me.” He says, softly.

“I can say the same thing about you that night.” You say, with a smile.

He wraps his arms around you and you stay like that for a moment.

“And you still are, every single day.” He says.

You find another picture of Elvis with a pink straw in his mouth and a juice box in hand, his hair freshly cut. You had taken this when you were in a bad mood and he was trying to cheer you up. You grin at the picture. You have to say, it worked.

He smiles. “I just wanted you to feel better that day.”

“And I did, just because of you.”

Every morning after leaving for work, she gets an inspiring message from him.

"Have a great day, gorgeous. I know you can get anything you want done today nust because of how amazing you are. You are capable of getting anything you want accomplished, remember this."

During work, Y/N always gets a picture from Elvis, him grinning widely.

She likes to look at several times during her day because it makes her happy to see his smile. Before she leaves for work Elvis always sends a picture of what he is cooking for dinner, if it is his turn to cook. He always leaves a salad to the side with the ranch dressing in the shape of a heart in the bowl along with whatever he cooked.

When you come home that night after a long day at work, he welcomes you with open arms and a plate of his freshly made lasagna and a note along with it. “Baked with a smile.” It reads.

You pepper kisses onto his cheek, thanking him for the meal. He knew lasagna was your favorite.

“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. You deserve it.”

He says, smiling at you and pulling your chair out so you can sit down.

“Such a gentlemen.” You say.

“For you, always.”

You both take some time to eat, really savoring the food. At one point, Elvis, wipes cheese all over your chin to be funny.

“Elvis!” You cry out. You put some cheese on his chin, too and now, you are both laughing.

You smile and lean in for a kiss. It is passionate as usual, with many sparks flying off each and every way. Y/N/ pulls away and see Elvis diving into his dinner, noticing the lasagna noodles were colored blue.

“Elvis, what in the world?” You say, with a chuckle.

He grins like a little kid with a lollipop would. “I used blue food coloring in mine to make the cooking more fun.”

“Well, good for you, goofball.”

“Yes, but I am your goofball.”

“Always and forever.” Y/N says with a smile.

“Next time, I think I’ll dye your noodles red.”

“Okay, whatever you like, Elvis is fine with me.” She says, again with a smile.

Goofball.” She mutters.

—-----------------

One morning, upon waking up, she found Elvis staring at her with giant orange glasses on his face. It made you burst out laughing. “Elvis, just what do you think you are wearing?”

He grins, kissing you on the cheek.

“I want to be a clown for a moment.” He says.

“Yes, indeed, a clown would definitely wear those glasses. You, as well.”

He grins. You take a picture of him with your camera, laughing as you do.

“I can’t wait to show this to the Mafia.”

He smiles. “They’ve already seen me in these. But you, this is a first.”

Elvis puts them on you and bursts out laughing. “You look so ridiculous!”

“As did you!” You exclaim.

“Mmmm, you look more ridiculous than I did.”

He puts them back on and takes a picture of himself with his tongue sticking out, you photobombing him, sticking your head in.

“Hey! This is my clown picture!”

You kiss him on the cheek in response to his fake anger.

“You can get in the next one.”

You both take a look at how the picture turned out and end up laughing so hard, tears are streaming down both of your faces. It's just, overall, a ridiculous picture. You take another one, Elvis with his clown glasses on, arm around you, and both of you smiling. When you are done he gives you a big kiss that leaves you feeling all warm inside, just like love should make a person feel. Then, he tickles you, leaving you with tears trickling down your cheek again.

“Elvis! Stop I have to pee!”

So, he stops and follows you to the bathroom, wrapping his hands around your waist and lifting you up off the ground.

You screech, grinning. He lets you down and you go to the bathroom. When you come back he has lunch ready for you, on a tray.

“Had this ready for you downstairs, but then we got carried away.

“Oh, Elvis, thank you so much.

________

You come home one day after two weeks away with your friends and become overjoyed. Elvis said he had something he needed to do and it required you to leave the house for awhile, so you did. You missed him so, so much but he said what he'd be doing would be worth missing him. After coming home, you find a brand new pool in your yard! You are absolutely ecstatic!

You happily run into his arms, giving him a hug and a kiss. He is absolutely ecstatic as well, grinning like a madman. You pull away and give him another kiss, this time on the cheek.

“Oh, Elvis, thank you!” Thank you, thank you!”

Elvis always knew how much you loved to swim and how much it made you feel like a child again, so this was very, very kind of him. You could imagine how much it cost, but you didn’t think about it for much longer, because he was now carrying you in his strong arms.

“Elvis, put me down!” You say, laughing. You knew exactly what he was going to do.

“Oh, no.” He says, grinning again. You thrash a bit in his arms, Elvis laughing evilly.

When you get out to the pool, he lifts you up, you screeching, and throws you into the pool with all your clothes on.

“Elvis!” You cry out, laughing as you fall beneath the surface. But you cannot possibly be annoyed by him, because he was just having fun and now, so are you. Laughing, you see him take off his shirt and pants and jump in. You giggle. When he arrives by your side, he wraps his arm around you, happy as can be.

“Happy?” He asks.

“Very.”

You lean into his shoulder and take his hand in yours. Then, you pull away, swimming towards the end of the pool, Elvis following. It's hard for you to take your eyes off of him seeing as he is shirtless and without pants, only in his boxers.

“Hey, eyes up here.” He says, teasing.

You smile, knowing that won’t be the end of the teasing once you get your hands on him.

#elvis presley #elvis x reader

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