#its so bad the heat is getting to me faster and I think I maybe having hot flashes too

[amkyor]

hi!! is there any possibility for you to do the opposite of the mha guys getting slapped? like the boys accidentally hurt the reader when arguing, whether it be slamming a door and their hand gets caught orrr a shove that was a little too strong ya know? you obv dont have to but if you did, the same guys in the original one would be perfect!

MHA GUYS REACT TO...

READER GETTING HURT WHILE ARGUING ᡣ𐭩

Katsuki Bakugo ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the iron sizzling as it glided over fabric filled the small apartment.

You stood by the ironing board, focused on smoothing out the creases in one of Bakugo’s button-up shirts.

The room was warm, and the tension was palpable. The argument between you and Bakugo had started as a simple disagreement but quickly escalated into a heated exchange.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” you snapped, your voice cutting through the hum of the iron.

Bakugo stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his signature scowl etched deep on his face.

“I’m stubborn? You’re the one who never listens!” he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.

You glared at him, the iron in your hand moving a little faster than before.

The argument continued, words flying back and forth. Neither of you were willing to back down, each too caught up in your emotions to see the situation clearly.

“I don’t understand why you have to make everything so damn difficult!” Bakugo growled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I’m making things difficult? You’re impossible!” You fired back, your voice rising.

In your frustration, you weren’t paying attention to the iron. As you adjusted the shirt on the board, your hand slipped, and the edge of the hot iron made contact with your skin.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you let out a yelp, dropping the iron onto the board.

“Shit!” You cried, cradling your hand.

Bakugo’s eyes widened, and the anger in his face was instantly replaced with concern.

He crossed the room in two strides, his hands reaching for yours. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice laced with worry.

“I burned myself,” you hissed through clenched teeth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

The pain was sharp and intense, and you could already see the angry red mark forming on your skin.

“Let me see,” Bakugo said, his tone softer now. He gently took your hand in his, inspecting the burn. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they brushed over your skin.

“It’s not that bad,” you mumbled, trying to downplay the situation despite the pain.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, though there was no heat in his words. “Stay here.”

Bakugo disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bowl of cool water and a clean towel.

He carefully guided you to sit down on the bed, setting the bowl on the bedside table.

Without saying a word, he dipped the towel in the water and gently pressed it against the burn on your hand.

“Hold this,” he instructed, his voice gruff but steady. You obeyed, wincing slightly as the cool towel soothed the searing pain.

Bakugo crouched in front of you, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort.

His concern was evident, though he tried to mask it with his usual tough demeanor.

“You need to be more careful,” he muttered, his gaze flicking down to your hand. “What were you thinking, waving that damn thing around while yelling at me?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual intensity. “I wasn’t waving it around. I was ironing your shirt, remember? The one you claimed I ruined in the first place.”

He sighed, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. “Yeah, well… maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I was pissed.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his admission. “Was that... an apology?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh despite the lingering pain. “You’re impossible, Katsuki.”

“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, but his tone was softer now. He stood up and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small first-aid kit.

Sitting beside you on the bed, he opened the kit and pulled out a tube of burn ointment.

“This is gonna sting a little,” he warned, taking your hand in his. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as he applied the ointment to the burn.

His thumb brushed against your uninjured skin, his movements uncharacteristically tender.

You watched him in silence, your earlier anger fading away. It was moments like these that reminded you of how deeply he cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it.

“Thanks,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t be stupid next time.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “I’ll try. But maybe you could help by not being so infuriating all the time.”

“Tch. You’re one to talk,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.

After wrapping a loose bandage around your hand, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back against the bed, supporting himself with his palms.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence.

Bakugo turned his head to look at you, his fiery red eyes softer than usual.

“Sorry, by the way,” he said quietly, almost as if the words pained him to say. “For snapping at you earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Wow. Two apologies in one day? Who are you, and what have you done with Katsuki Bakugo?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

You laughed, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He didn’t push you away. Instead, he reached over with his unoccupied hand and rested it lightly on your knee, a subtle gesture of reassurance.

As the two of you sat there, the earlier argument felt like a distant memory.

Bakugo might have been rough around the edges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved him—and why, no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩

The kitchen was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of a knife slicing through strawberries.

You stood at the counter, focused on your task, carefully cutting the fruit into even pieces. The tension in the air was thick, a result of the argument that had been brewing for the past twenty minutes.

Shoto leaned against the opposite counter, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

His heterochromatic eyes were sharp, and his usually calm demeanor was laced with irritation.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just listen to reason,” he said, his voice steady but cold.

You didn’t look up, your hands working methodically.

“And I don’t understand why you always have to be so detached about everything,” you shot back, frustration creeping into your tone.

“I’m not detached. I’m just trying to be logical,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

“Logical doesn’t always mean right, Shoto,” you said, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes, emotions matter too.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying they don’t. But this isn’t about emotions. It’s about—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Don’t dismiss how I feel. You always do that.”

His expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “I’m not dismissing you. I’m trying to have a conversation, but you’re being unreasonable.”

The words stung, and in your frustration, your grip on the knife tightened.

Your hand slipped, and before you realized what had happened, the blade nicked your finger.

“Ah!” You yelped, dropping the knife onto the cutting board and clutching your hand.

Blood welled up from the cut, and the pain was sharp and immediate.

Shoto’s eyes widened, the irritation in his expression instantly replaced with concern.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, his movements swift and precise.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching for your hand.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but he gently but firmly held your wrist.

“It’s not fine,” he said, his voice softer now. His thumb brushed against your uninjured fingers as he inspected the cut. “You’re bleeding.”

He guided you to the sink, turning on the faucet and holding your hand under the cool water.

The silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t the same tense silence as before. This one was filled with unspoken worry and regret.

“You need to be more careful,” he said quietly, his eyes focused on your hand.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? We wouldn’t even be in this situation if we weren’t arguing.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you saw his jaw tighten. After a moment, he turned off the water and reached for a clean towel, wrapping it around your hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden apology. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, meeting your gaze. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings. You were right.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten. You looked up at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed.

You hesitated for a moment before looking away from his strong gaze. “I… I’m sorry too,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have let my frustration get the better of me.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Let me bandage this properly.”

Without waiting for your response, he led you to the bathroom, where he carefully cleaned and dressed the wound.

His touch was gentle, and the concentration on his face reminded you of why you loved him—his quiet care, his attention to detail.

When he was done, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken. “I hate seeing you hurt,” he admitted.

You smiled faintly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your uninjured hand. “And I hate fighting with you.”

He leaned into your touch, his hand covering yours. “Let’s try to handle things better next time. No more strawberries during arguments.”

You laughed softly, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Come on. Let’s finish making those strawberries together.”

And just like that, the kitchen felt a little warmer, and the argument felt like a distant memory.

Izuku Midoriya ᡣ𐭩

Izuku Midoriya stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, and his expression was unusually tense.

The air between you was thick with frustration, the kind of tension that turned casual conversations into heated arguments.

“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” Izuku said, his voice louder than it usually was.

“You shouldn’t have to handle things on your own when I’m right here!”

You sighed, turning away from him as you wiped down the counter, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, Izuku. I didn’t want to worry you over something so small.”

“Small?” he repeated, his green eyes wide and incredulous. “You were stressed out, overworking yourself, and you didn’t think I needed to know?”

You glanced at him, your jaw tight. “I was handling it just fine. Not everything needs to be a team effort, okay? I’m allowed to deal with things on my own sometimes.”

Izuku’s fists clenched at his sides, but he took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady himself.

“But we’re a team. That’s the point of being together, isn’t it? Supporting each other?”

You could feel your own temper rising, and you turned toward the fridge, needing a moment to compose yourself. “I’m not saying we’re not a team, Izuku. I’m just saying I didn’t need help with this.”

Your words hung in the air as you opened the fridge, reaching in for a carton of eggs to finish preparing dinner.

The argument still buzzed in the back of your mind, and your movements were quicker and less careful than usual.

As you grabbed the eggs and swung the fridge door shut, your finger got caught between the heavy door and its frame.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you yelped, dropping the carton of eggs onto the floor.

The sound of the eggs cracking was muffled by your hiss of pain, and you instinctively clutched your injured hand, tears springing to your eyes.

“Ah, crap!” you muttered, trying to shake off the pain.

Izuku was at your side in an instant, his earlier frustration completely replaced by concern. “Are you okay? Let me see!”

“It’s fine, Izuku,” you said, wincing as you tried to wave him off.

“It’s not fine,” he insisted gently but firmly taking your hand.

His fingers were warm and careful as he inspected the injury. The skin around your finger was already red and swelling slightly.

“Why were you moving so fast?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with worry.

“Because we were arguing, and I wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt as you looked at the mess of broken eggs on the floor.

Izuku sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “This is exactly what I mean. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up and push yourself like this.”

You glanced up at him, his emerald eyes filled with concern and just a hint of exasperation. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know you didn’t mean to. But I hate seeing you like this—hurt, stressed, or trying to carry everything on your own. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just didn’t want to add to your plate.”

Izuku shook his head, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I’m here for—to share the plate. Even if it’s overflowing, it’s better than you carrying it all by yourself.”

You managed a small laugh despite the lingering ache in your hand. “You and your metaphors.”

He smiled wider, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles. “Come on. Let’s clean up this mess and get some ice on your finger.”

Together, you cleaned up the broken eggs, Izuku insisting on doing most of the work while you held your injured hand under cool running water.

When the floor was spotless again, he led you to the couch, sat you down, and disappeared into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas to use as an ice pack.

When he returned, he crouched in front of you, carefully placing the makeshift ice pack against your finger. “There. Keep this on for a while, okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Izuku. For everything.”

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “Always.”

As he sat beside you, one arm slipping around your shoulders, the argument felt like a distant memory.

The only thing that mattered now was the quiet understanding that you didn’t have to face anything alone.

Eijiro Kirishima ᡣ𐭩

The sun had long set, leaving the apartment illuminated by warm overhead lights.

Dinner dishes were still on the table, and the faint scent of grilled chicken lingered in the air.

You were on your way to the kitchen, carrying the plates from the table, your footsteps brisk. Behind you, Kirishima’s voice followed, sharp with frustration.

“I’m just saying you could’ve told me before making the plans!” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and hurt.

You turned your head slightly, your own irritation bubbling over. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal, Eijiro! It’s just a dinner with some friends!”

“Yeah, friends I barely know,” he shot back, following you into the kitchen. “You know I like to plan things. I hate feeling blindsided like this!”

The plates clinked loudly as you set them on the counter, your movements a little too forceful. “It’s one night! You don’t have to go if it’s such a problem!”

Kirishima ran a hand through his hair, his usually soft expression hardened by the argument. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Why do you always do this? Make decisions without even talking to me?”

You spun around to face him, your hands gesturing wildly. “Because not everything needs a full-blown discussion, Eijiro! Sometimes, I just want to do something without overthinking it for hours!”

The tension in the room was thick, your words bouncing off each other like sparks flying in a forge. Neither of you were backing down, your voices overlapping in a heated exchange.

As you turned to grab something from the counter, your hip collided with the edge of the kitchen island. Hard.

The sharp pain took you by surprise, and you let out a yelp, instinctively clutching your side.

The impact sent a dull ache radiating through your hip, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against the counter for support.

Kirishima’s anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by concern. “Babe, are you okay?” he asked, rushing to your side.

You winced, blinking back tears of pain. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered.

“Let me see,” he said, his hands hovering near your waist as if unsure whether to touch you.

“It’s nothing, Eijiro,” you insisted, though the way you clutched your hip betrayed your words.

“Don’t give me that,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re in pain. Sit down, please.”

Reluctantly, you allowed him to guide you to one of the kitchen chairs.

His hands were gentle as he helped you sit, his worry evident in the furrow of his brows.

“Where did you hit it?” he asked, crouching in front of you.

You hesitated before lifting the hem of your shirt slightly to reveal the reddening spot on your hip.

Kirishima winced at the sight, his expression softening even more.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “I’ll get some ice.”

He stood quickly, rummaging through the freezer until he found an ice pack.

Wrapping it in a towel, he returned to your side, kneeling in front of you as he gently pressed the ice pack to your hip.

You hissed at the sudden cold but didn’t pull away, the pain already beginning to dull. “Thanks,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Kirishima sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up. I just… I hate fighting with you.”

You looked down at him, his crimson eyes filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry too,” you admitted. “I should’ve talked to you about the dinner. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I overreacted. I know you weren’t trying to. I just… I like being included, you know?”

“I get it,” you said, reaching out to brush a hand through his hair. “And I’ll try to be better about that. I promise.”

Kirishima leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “And I’ll try not to blow up over little things. We’re a team, right?”

“Always,” you said, a smile finally breaking through the tension.

He stood, helping you to your feet as well. “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you comfortable on the couch. I’ll clean up the kitchen tonight.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as he guided you out of the kitchen. “You’re really trying to make up for this, huh?”

“Damn right I am,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I screwed up, and I’m not letting you think for a second that I don’t care.”

As you settled onto the couch, Kirishima brought you a blanket and a glass of water before sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on your leg.

The earlier argument felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his care and the quiet understanding that no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Denki Kaminari ᡣ𐭩

The evening had started off normally enough. You and Denki were at home, trying to enjoy some downtime after a long week.

The living room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the TV filling the silence as you moved around, trying to organize the tangled mess of chargers and wires behind the entertainment stand.

Denki sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, his usual carefree demeanor noticeably absent.

A small disagreement earlier in the day had left a lingering tension between the two of you, and neither had made the move to resolve it.

“You’ve got too many things plugged in back there,” Denki said, breaking the silence.

You sighed, crouched behind the TV as you worked to untangle the mess. “I know, Denki. That’s why I’m fixing it.”

“It’s not just about fixing it,” he shot back, his voice sharper than usual. “You’re always leaving it like that, and it’s dangerous. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

You rolled your eyes, the frustration bubbling up. “I don’t need a lecture right now. I’m handling it, okay?”

His phone landed on the coffee table with a thud, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Handling it? That’s what you always say. But you never actually—”

“Can you not right now?” You interrupted, turning your head to glare at him. “I said I’ve got it under control.”

Denki scoffed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Yeah, sure. You’re so ‘in control’ that you’re probably going to end up shocking yourself.”

Your temper flared at his sarcasm. “At least I’m doing something instead of sitting there complaining!”

The tension in the room thickened, your voices rising as the argument escalated.

You were so focused on getting the last charger plugged in and proving a point that you didn’t notice the faint crackle of static building up in the air.

“Maybe if you actually listened—” Denki started, but his words were cut off by your sudden yelp.

A sharp jolt of electricity shot through your fingers as you plugged in the charger, making you jump back and wince in pain. “Ow!”

Denki was on his feet in an instant, his earlier anger replaced with concern. “What happened?” he asked, rushing to your side.

You cradled your hand, your face twisted in discomfort. “I got shocked,” you muttered, trying to shake off the stinging sensation.

“I told you!” Denki exclaimed, though his voice was more panicked than accusatory. “That’s why I said it’s dangerous!”

You shot him a glare, still cradling your hand. “This isn’t the time to say ‘I told you so,’ Denki!”

His expression softened as he crouched beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “Let me see,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated but allowed him to examine your fingers. His touch was gentle, his thumb brushing over the spot where the jolt had hit.

“It doesn’t look bad,” he said, his golden eyes scanning your hand for any signs of burns. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted, your earlier anger fading as you saw the genuine worry on his face.

Denki let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “You scared me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. “I’m fine, Denki. It’s just a little shock.”

“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have let you do that by yourself. I should’ve just helped instead of being a jerk about it.”

You sighed, the weight of the argument finally settling over you. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, either,” you admitted. “I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you.”

Denki’s lips quirked into a small smile, his usual lightheartedness beginning to return. “We’re both pretty good at being stubborn, huh?”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, we are.”

He stood, offering you his hand to help you up. “Come on. Let’s take a break from this mess. I’ll get you some ice for your hand, and then we can figure it out together.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Denki.”

As the two of you walked to the kitchen, the tension between you began to ease.

Denki rummaged through the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel before handing it to you.

“Here,” he said, his grin more playful now. “And for the record, you look cute when you’re stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re lucky I love you, idiot.”

Denki laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Love you too, spark plug.”

The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of your shared laughter and the promise to face things together, no matter how tangled or messy they might be.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader Fanfic

[bitchapalooza]

The little voice in my head is telling me to see a doctor and regulate these pms symptoms and tell them how erratic my hormones levels drop and rise before my cycle starts and how that effects my day to day especially at work, but the bigger voice in my head is telling me I’m a disgusting faker with a disgusting body and I’ll never be a real man, if I’m put on birth control or whatever else I’ll only look more like a woman and I’ll be trapped as a woman, a miserable woman who only dreams of a dirt nap and a new life where I’m reborn as a man. Can something just hit the earth already and eradicate us all already?

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

heartless- clark kent

thinking abour red red kryptonite clark teasing you and making you ride his thigh to get off... mmm

this is smutty so you have been warned

“I don't know why you keep squirming around like that angel. It's not gonna let you cum any faster.” Clark chuckled as you pouted upon your pedestal- his denim clothed thigh, struggling to get any form of friction to quell the heat that puddled between your legs.

It had been over an hour of this, of you trying to be extra sweet to please Clark, in hopes he would pick you up the way you liked- like a doll, and coo at you as he’d make you cum repeatedly in his bed.

Instead, you were here- desperate for relief as he mocked you.

Your usual schemes had failed, his gaze amused and uninterested as you tried extra hard to do things you knew tended to get him head over heels for you. It was as if he could see right through you.

Those attempts had resulted in failure, as Clark was anything but sweet. No, his demeanour was darker, and he was meaner.

But fuck if you didnt enjoy it, just a little.

He had coaxed you up onto his lap, where he man spread wide across the couch in his room. You straddled his thick thigh, rubbing your hips on your own accord. He refused to help, and it drove you to the point of tears.

“Please Clark, please- I ju-just need your help.” you hiccuped, feeling a tear start to slip down your cheek as your legs started to quiver and shake, just as your lower lip did.

He smirked, hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your lower lip- forcing its way into your mouth. You sucked, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“You look so pretty when you cry baby. Such a cute lil thing, aren't you?”

He bucked his knee up, bouncing it up and down in rhythm, making you squirm even more as you clung to his t-shirt, bawling the fabric into your fists.

“You really need my help to make you cum, don't you? Pathetic. Can you do anything on your own?”

You shook your head, another tear falling down your cheek, leaving them feeling sticky in its wake as it fell to Clarks hand.

“No, no that's right, you need me to do everything for you. You need me, cause no one can fuck you as good as I can- yeah?”

You frantically nodded, eyes widening as his hand slid down to your hips, guiding them as you grinded on him shamelessly, a wet patch on his pants.

“Yeah, I know baby. Maybe I’ll let you cum.” he said coyley, a smirk on his face, eyebrows raising as you tried to protest, only getting out incoherent mumbles through his thumb in your mouth.

“What's that? You can hold off a little longer? Oh angel..” he cooed as you shook your head, trying desperately to hold off from finishing. You knew if you came without his permission, you’d be in for it.

“I- I cant hold off anymore.” you choked out, drool dripping down your chin as he removed his thumb, shinny with your spit.

“Too bad.” he grinned, a flash of red shining in his eyes.

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[nonchalantlucy]

Introducing....

LOSER-SUB!CHRIS STURNIOLO X DOM!READER

warnings: smut, edging kink, masturbation, sub male, slight degradition kink, losing NNN, overstimulation, oral sex (male recieving), use of y/n, little to no plot, pet names, NOT PROOF READ

details: DOM!READER will be using SHE/HER pronouns. chris lives with his girlfriend, y/n, who works at the local pet store. one day, she comes home early to find chris in a very compromising situation.

a/n: hi lovelies!! thank you for voting on my poll. as you can see, this story won! if you would still like to see the matt story, let me know!! this is my first time writing in MONTHS, so excuse me if it's bad... ENJOY!!

You walked into your apartment, noticing all the lights out. You know Chris is home, You saw his car outside, and it's only 6:00.

You slide your shoes off and walk deeper into the familiar darkness, placing your purse and jacket on the couch.

You stumble towards the hallway, tripping slightly on a cord. You come to a halt outside of yours and Chris's shared room.

You reach for the handle, turning it to open the door slightly. You stop in your tracks, the door not even halfway open when you hear a quiet whimper.

You peek your head around the door and into the room, seeing Chris lying on the bed. One arm is draped over his face, his head thrown back into the pillows. The other hand is rather low, stroking a quite intimate area very rapidly.

You step into the room fully, slightly mesmerized at the sight. You couldn't help but giggle quietly, which Chris hears.

His arm shoots off his head, grabbing the blanket and throwing it over himself as he sits up. His eyes glued to you.

"Babe, your home early..."

He speaks awkwardly, shying away under the blanket.

"That I am. What were you doing?"

You speak teasingly, walking towards the bed slowly. You know what he was doing, and he knows you know

"Nothing babe."

"Oh, so jerking yourself is nothing?"

"Shut up.."

"Weren't you bragging to Nate about how your gonna win NNN?"

"And I will. Its No NUT November, doesnt mean I can't touch myself."

"Hmm, I think I could make you lose."

You say, sitting down next to him, your hand snaking under the blanket and resting on his thigh.

"As if. I have more self control then that."

Chris speaks in a tone of courage, but the shudder his body gives and the quiet gasp he lets out says otherwise.

"Is that...a challenge?"

You speak, gently lifting the blanket off of him and crawling over him, hovering.

"Maybe."

As soon as the word left his mouth, you wasted no time. Your lips fly down, attacking his, as your hand snakes down his body to his most intimate member.

You wrap your finger around his cock, gently, causing him to gasp into the kiss. When his lips part, your tounge subconsciously shoots into his mouth, exploring it.

You begin to move your hand up and down, slowly. Your long nails, which he had paid for, adding extra sensation.

You slowly pull your lips off his, before moving them down to his neck. Leaving little bruises all over it, being sure to bite his most sensitive spot.

"Y/n.."

He gasps out your name, his hips bucking involuntarily up into your hand.

"Shh, be quiet for me.."

You mumble against his neck.

Your stroking gets faster, and his whimpers get louder.

"Y/n, Im gonna cum!"

Chris cries out, and you immediately stop the movement.

He lets out a whine and looks down at you, giving a questioning look.

You pull away from his neck, looking up at him.

"Wouldnt wanna lose, now would you?"

You smirk, crawling back up and kissing him.

This kiss is long and passionate, as he cups your cheek. Your tounges danced together in a loving fight. The heat between your bodies matching the flame of the sun.

Your hand moves back down, starting the stroking slowly. Teasing the tip of his cock, before speeding up slightly.

You pull away from the kiss, staring down at him. Watching as his eyebrows furrow, and his head tilts back slightly.

His lips pressed into a thin line, a slight sweat on the edges of his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut.

You begin moving your hand faster.

His mouth falls open, groans falling out one after another, and his head jerks back further.

You can tell hes close. So,

You stop your hand movmemt, earning a whine from him. You give him a sharp look, shutting him up before he has a chance to protest.

You climb off the bed, getting on your knees at the edge. You open your mouth to give commands, but before you can Chris is already positioned infront of you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Little slut."

You mumble, before kissing the tip of his length. He lets out a quiet whimper, before responding. Or atleast, attempting to respond.

"Im not a slu- ahh!"

His words cut off, and blend into a moan as your wrap your lips around his tip. Your tounge flicks the very top as you move your mouth lower.

He throws his head back, a stream of curses, moans, and grunts leave his mouth as your work your magic.

You push your mouth as far down and deep you can go. Taking almost all his length in your mouth. What you cant take, your hand is tightly wrapped around it and twisting.

This throws him over the edge, his head falls back as he attempts to pull away from you.

"Please, im gonna.."

Before he can finish his sentence, you feel a string of warmth fly into your mouth and down your throat. It was a salty taste, but you swallowed it all nonetheless.

You dont pull your mouth way however. You keep going.

Sucking, and bobbing your head up and down.

"To much, to much"

Chris cries out, but his hand that has found its way to your hair eggs you on, pushing your face towards him as his hips buck up into your mouth.

Whimpers upon whimpers leave his mouth, and even faster then the first time he releases in your mouth once again.

You pull away, after swallowing it of course, and look up at him.

"Loser."

"Shut the fuck up."

hope you enjoyed it ! its not the best and kinda short, but its what i got ! let me know if you have any requests !!!

[bigfan-fanfic]

A Real Puzzler (Male!Reader x Leon Kennedy)

@alexanderstarhero Request for Leon taking care of random citizen who is great at puzzle.

"I was supposed to accept an award today."

Leon laughs, and you laugh with him, the sound tinged with just a hint of hysteria.

"Oh yeah? What was the award for?"

You can't help but giggle. "Raccoon City Puzzle Champion."

You both roar with laughter.

"Guess what?" Leon smirks.

"What?"

"Today's my first day on the job with RCPD!"

After a really bad rainy day spent with a cute police officer - which you can't even really appreciate due to the weird monsters and zombies all around here - you two found a moment to rest in a safe room and simply breathed and talked, leading to you laughing about the way today should have been wildly mundane.

With him shooting and you using your experience to handle the increasingly obtuse puzzles, the two of you make a pretty great team.

You finally recover enough to breathe and lean against him.

Automatically, he puts an arm around you.

"I never got the chance to thank you for... you know. Saving my life."

He looks at you. "You don't have to thank me for that."

"But-"

"You've gotten us out of just as many scrapes."

"What, with those riddles?"

"Look, with you focused on that, it lets me be more aware of enemies. We're the perfect team, you and me."

"Still, I kinda think you'd be able to do all this without me, and the reverse isn't true."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "Well, having two people do this together just makes it all go faster. And something tells me if we can get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can, we might save a lot of lives."

You smile at him. "I'm okay with that."

He laughs. "Just okay? Maybe I could sweeten the pot?"

"What?"

"We get out of here before sunrise, I take you out on a date."

You blink several times, and slowly smile. "What about if after?"

"Then you take me out."

"Deal."

He squeezes you against his side. "That huge guy sucks. I think he'd have pummeled my ass into the ground if you weren't so quick on the puzzle."

"Yeah. He SUCKS."

Boom.

"Oh, shit, do you think he heard us?"

"Let's get out of here..."

Much later...

"What is with this town and puzzles?"

"I... actually don't have an answer for that." you mumble, as you hold a strangely shaped statuette in front of a spotlight in order to match an odd-shaped indentation in the landscape painting ahead.

"You haven't ever found it weird?"

The whole wall slides aside to reveal a secret passage downward. "What do you mean?"

"That this place is just loaded with weird secret passages and environmental puzzles?"

"I guess I've never thought about it. It's just... we like our puzzles. I was gonna get to have my picture in City Hall with Mr. Raccoon!"

Leon freezes in the middle of the staircase. "Mr. Raccoon?"

You sigh, face heating up as you realize you're going to have to explain your city's odd mascot that its citizens are so appreciative of.

Well, at least it's better than thinking about the current situation.

Although a date with your dashing companion is ever tempting to be distracted by...

[nottswitch]

Heyyy! Would really appreciate 49 and 71 with Theo, I believe you’ll rock this one

(Make it smutty, sweet thing🫦)

hey babe, thanks for believing in me lmao and like r we flirting cuz… hi 👀🫦

prompt list

49. "where’re you from?"

71. "your mascara’s ruined."

» navigation ; masterlist ; theo m.list ; how to request

18+ smut

being a new student at hogwarts during your last year was definitely going to be a challenge, you thought this morning as you walked to your first class. however, you quickly found out that maybe, just maybe, your assimilation into the new school would be way easier than you thought – a handsome slytherin curly-head named theo nott was very willing to help you adjust, both to the new atmosphere and the size of his cock inside your pussy as he slowly pounded you into his mattress in the evening of that same day.

"you’re so fucking beautiful, amore," he whispered into your ear as his cool fingers skimmed up and down your waist. the contrast between his cool touch and your heated skin heightened your senses, and each of his thrusts started echoing straight in your fuzzy head, tingles running all over your sensitive body.

"where’re your from, hm?" theo asked, his voice sultry and soft at the same time, much like his warm breath at your ear, adding to the mixture of temperatures on and around you.

in response, you could only let out a moan and the barely coherent name of your country of origin. theo hummed in approval of your pleasure-induced answer, following it up with a harder and deeper thrust that reached your cervix and made you nearly scream, a mixture of slight pain and pleasure going through your spine straight into your (malfunctioning) brain.

"so that’s where they make pretty girls like you, huh," theo murmured with a low chuckle as one of his hands traveled up your waist to cup your breast, your perked up nipple sliding between his index and middle finger. you whimpered at the sensation shooting pleasant sparks into your stomach, and theo got the cue, his lips latching onto your other nipple as he continued his slow, albeit now much deeper pace.

your hand found its way into his hair, tangling in his curls and tugging him a bit closer to your body, even though you were already connected in all possible ways. he moaned against your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple with more intensity, which made your peak approach a bit faster. a moaned-out curse in your native language made theo go faster inside of you, his cock twitching from anticipation of his own climax.

"sei il mio sogno, cazzo," he murmured, letting go of your nipple only to connect your lips in a slow yet passionate kiss, the heat of the moment making him switch to his native language as well. his lips felt heavenly against yours, your tongues circling each other in a sloppy dance of desire.

your orgasm washed over you in a tidal wave, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you let out a louder moan, born deep in your chest and making its way to the surface. it didn’t take long for theo to follow, spilling his load into you as he rode out your shared high.

"your mascara’s ruined," he whispered with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his tender gaze studying your pretty, blissed out face. his thumb softly traced the outline of your cheekbones, wiping away some of the residue of your ruined makeup. you smiled back at him, thinking that getting used to the new school’s environment wasn’t that bad, after all.

[badgers-and-cats]

Can you do a George Weasley smut with innocent reader?🥹

Such a good girl. (George Weasley x fem!reader)

Masterlist

18+ MDNI

AFAB reader

Warnings; fem reader. smut under the cut. Innocent reader. Oral (fem receiving. Mentions Masc receiving but doesn’t go into detail). Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!!!). Pet names; sweetheart, baby, princess, darling, good girl. Brief mention of breeding kink. Alludes to further smut

A/N: love an innocent reader fic, but lowkey struggled with the innocence part, this is my first time writing for an innocent reader… so apologies if it isn’t so good💕

“So wet for me already?” He smirks once you’re naked and he is face to face with your pussy. You blush, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at his words. That is soon forgotten though, with the sensation of his wet lips kissing your pussy, and then your clit; until he is sloppily making out with your heat.

He alternates between licking your juices and fucking you with his tongue: becoming harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips; swollen from your previous make out session. Oh how he was obsessed with you. He felt as if he had barely touched you, and here you were. Almost completely fucked out just from his tongue.

“George I’m so close… feels so good,” you moan softly, gently tugging at his hair. This only makes him work harder, eagerly wanting to taste your sweet juices. To feel them soak his mouth. And you do just that. He groans at the taste of your cum, it turning him on somehow even more than he already was.

He moves to now make out with your lips; earning a small moan from you, at the taste of yourself on his wet, swollen lips, something you never expected to get aroused by.

“Can you relax for me, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hurt you.” He asks, kissing your soft lips, as he moves his thumb to gently rub circles your throbbing clit. He can feel you’re relaxed - but without the prep work of his fingers, he worries.

You hadn’t heard him - your focus being on his thumb slowly moving against your bundle of nerves. Something you had never done yourself - too scared of getting it wrong. Of not doing it quite as well as he does.

Every time, he worried about hurting you. His precious girl. These are the moments the outside world will never get to witness. You, the innocent girl, with her legs spread for one of the Weasley twins; who is being so slow and so patient with her; without a hint of trickery in sight. Everything he says and does in these moments are just for her. His girl.

“Baby? Did you hear me? Wanna be inside you,” his mouth has now made its way to your neck; carefully placing kisses and bites all over. His hips involuntarily thrust forward; seeking out any kind of friction to ease his painfully hard erection.

“Mhm, yes George, I’m ready,” you relax under his touch as you speak. He will never get enough of you. The way you look up at him eagerly as you suck his cock, seeking his praise. The way you trusted him to be your first everything. The way you continue to trust him.

The one thing he will never get enough of is sinking his aching cock into your wet heat, feeling the warmth grip his length; inviting him in. It was like a drug. And he was addicted. If he didn’t control himself: he could cum there and then, filling you up nice and full. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, he thought, thinking of filling you up with his babies.

There were many things you did he couldn’t get enough of. The look on your face as he stretches you out only encourages him to move his hips, the moans leaving your mouth as he does somehow turn him on even more as he thrusts into your tight hole with the most perfect rhythm; one that he knows you love. He’d love to go faster and harder, but that can be saved for next time.

His thumb continues his assault on your clit, only now it’s much harder, your hips thrusting up slightly at the sensation- he just smirks at your eagerness.

“Mm Georgie… I think I’m gonna…” you moan, almost pathetically, as the knot in your stomach threatens to release. No matter how often you do this with George; no matter how many times he makes you cum, there’s something about saying it out loud that makes you feel somewhat shy. But he loves it.

“I’m close too baby… god you’re gripping me so much… cum for me princess…” he groans, his thrusts now becoming slower, yet slightly harder. With one final thrust; he cums, as he is balls deep inside you; painting your soft walls white. Your 2nd orgasm of the night comes at the same time, hitting you hard as your juices soak his balls and his sheets.

“Fuck… that’s it darling did so well for me, such a good girl for me. My good girl,” he groans, before pulling out gently, kissing your forehead and wrapping you up in his arms.

Oh how he was excited for next time. You have no idea what he has planned, but he is certain that you will enjoy it, no matter how much rougher it will be. Because you trust him.

[rosyjn]

Dilf!Jake catching you in your first heat MDNI

You nock the arrow, keeping the bow string stretched as you aim for a nearby bird. It is a colorful animal, resting on a branch. Your chest, adorned with flowers that barely cover your plump breasts, rises and falls with your breath.

You have been trying to ignore it. The tsahik told you this would come soon. The onset of your heat, you’ve been noticing since this morning. When you woke up, there was this strange hot feeling and an eager wetness between your legs. You should not have ignored it.

All you want to do is focus on hunting. This isn’t fair. Your head floods with bothersome thoughts. You release the arrow from the bow, the tense string making a snapping noise. Your sharp weapon flies through the air, striking the bird and knocking it off of its perch.

A relieved exhale leaves your mouth. You lower your bow. A prayer leaves your lips. May Eywa bless this soul.

You also need help from Eywa. Your legs are starting to tremble. Your clit is starting to throb. Your body is showing an unfamiliar neediness. You sigh, removing your hunting gear from your body and setting it aside. The weight feels good when it is off of your back.

Your ears perk to the sound of feet rustling through the forest. You quickly spin around, your eyes widening.

“Jeez, don’t worry doll. It’s just me.” It is the Olo’eyktan. Jake Sully. Your gut fills with butterflies. Your brain is telling you, that maybe you should ask him to give you a ride home on his direhorse. But no, there’s something else that your cunt wants.

“Oh, ma’Olo’eyktan..” you greet him, lowering your head and making an I see you gesture. “Can I ask for your help with something?”

He knows. He knows already. He could almost smell it. You sweet, innocent thing. You need to be guided to Mo’at, maybe a boyfriend. But, he think he’s so lucky he caught you first. He gets the privilege, now- of showing you how it’s done. He gets to show you how good his cock is.

“Of course.” He dismounts his direhorse, walking over to you. You awkwardly step back, lowering your body to the forest floor. He nods. “Lean back against that rock, hon.” You do what he says, shifting your position for him.

“I- I think I’m in-“ you stutter. You’re laying down now. He calmly strides over to you and his mouth falls gently agape.

“Relax,” he chuckles, kneeling to your level. “Why don’t ya, y’know, show me?” He suggests. His hand comes to your knee and he taps it lightly with his thumb.

“I want you to, make me feel better..” you spread your legs open for him. His breath grows faster. “Help me with my problem, sir. Please.” Jake swallows and clears his throat.

“I gotta take this off, alright? Daddy’ll make ya feel real good. No more heat pains.” He assures you, now grabbing the strings of your loincloth and fiddling with them until they fall loose and untied. You wince at the fresh breeze on your engorged clit. “Shh, relax.”

“Need it, need it so bad..” you’re already dripping wet, now squirming desperately. “Please touch me.” Jake almost chokes the at request.

“You sure?” He didn’t think you’d give in this quickly. When you give him puppy dog eyes and wince from the sensitivity down there, he agrees to help you out. He starts to buck his hips against his tewng. You whine, reaching forward for the strings of his garment. He shushes you and once again asks you to relax. “I can undress myself, hon. Don’t worry.”

He shuffles his hands around his waistband until the thin fabric is removed from his body.

He’s huge. Throbbing. He gulps, his hands reaching to touch your body. Your face turns a shade of purple. You spread your legs far and wide for him.

“Please, sir.” You cannot wait any longer. He shushes you, getting into position as the leaves rustle on the ground.

“Alright, I’m gonna go in, tell me if you want me to stop.” He coos, pushing his hips forward. His cock sinks into your tight pussy, giving it the stretch it needed. His mushroom tip probes your walls immediately. You gasp, tightening around him. You needed this so bad. Jake grunts, baring his teeth as he continues to buck his hips all the way until he’s balls deep.

You whine, like a desperate animal. Your back arches. You’re so goddamn tight. When he bottoms out in you, you squeal.

“Thank you, mmph! Thank you, sir.” You moan. You start to get flustered, hot, needy. “Faster, faster, please..” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist. He is surprised. Pleasantly surprised. He shakes his head and smiles.

“Sure you can take it?” He teases, accepting the challenge. You beg. You beg for him to fuck you harder. You want him to fill you with cum, so that your heat will never bother you again. You don’t know how it works. All you know is that you want him to ruin you and paint you white. Breed you.

He growls, picking up the pace and fucking you harder. Your body shakes. Every thrust of his makes you wetter and wetter. You clench around his cock. He starts to notice your pleasure, challenging it by slamming into you. You yelp, arching your back as you feel his thick cock stretch you.

“Mmmph, sir!” Your eyes clench shut, your breasts bouncing with each rut.

“Too much?” He asks, his skin beginning to glisten with sweat. He hisses with every time you clench and pulse around his girth. The space fills up with the noises of arousal- moaning, panting, skin slapping, and the ground rustling.

“Feels good-“ you whimper.

“I’ll fill ya up, I’ll cum inside of you. Your tight little cunt, fuck.” He grabs your breasts, slamming into you harder and harder.

You squeal again, a primal need filling your heat as you feel Jake’s precum dribble out of his tip and towards your cervix. He fucks his seed deeper into you. You grip onto his shoulders, pulling him towards you. He pants and leans down until his chest touches yours. You love the feeling of his weight on top of you and his cum inside of you.

“Yes! Yes, Jake!” You feel your climax approaching you rapidly. An electric pleasure pulses through your body. Your clit is swollen with pure pleasure. He grunts above you, bottoming out, and holding himself there.

His tip presses into your cervix, his orgasm washing over him as his thick cum sprays into your womb. You let out a cry, your nails digging into Jake’s back.

You try to catch your breath. Jake clicks his tongue a few times before pulling out of you. A trail of cum leaks down your folds. Your eyes flutter.

“You okay?” He takes a look at your sore pussy and reaches for your loincloth. You nod. What will you tell the village?

[haveihitanerve]

I've Got You

Steph just wanted one day. One day. To feel shitty about herself. To sit alone at home in silence and wallow. Watch crappy pirated movies from her phone because she can’t afford a TV and eat junk food that's probably months old because she doesn't really have time to get a real job right now.

She had, preferably, wanted a relaxing day. Being sick wasn't optimal for staying home, but at least it gave her a decent excuse.

So there she was, hunched underneath the covers of her crappy twin bed, on her phone, old bags of chips and tissues littering the floor and bed.

The window slides open and Steph's hand is under her pillow in a second, gripping the small dagger Tim had gifted her.

“I’m fine Tim. Go away.” She calls out in direction of the window as a shadow slips into the room. The shadow straightens to its full height and she curses, quickly dropping her phone.

“I’m not Tim.” Batman rumbles, and Steph drops the knife, twisting her body slightly to face him.

“I see that.” She shoves her phone away, just so that he doesn’t see her pirated movie selections. The last thing she needs is to deal with the fucking Bat. But of course, the Gods hate her.

“You missed patrol.” Steph’s cheeks heat up. She didn’t think it was that noticeable that she’d missed today. Much less that he’d notice.

“Yeah I uh… day off.” She chuckles awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of her neck. “Even my crappy manager Dave at Batburger gave me them from time to time. No point in being your own manage if it doesn't have benefits right?” To punctate the brilliance of her sentence she throws some finger guns his way.

Batman is unamused, white lenses unmoving. “Tim told me you jumped in Gotham harbor yesterday. To save a boy.” he murmurs instead, eyes scanning her apartment, taking in the empty cabinets, mold, and littering of stuff.

“Yeah.” Steph sniffs, grabbing another tissue to blow her nose. “Uh, is he okay?” She hasn’t had a chance to check, and she curses innerly at the lack of care it shows.

But Bruce doesn't comment, maybe because its what he expected, or because… something else, and just nods. “Yes. He’s fine. Minor cold, nothing too terrible. He wasn’t in the harbor for too long, thanks to you.”

Steph frowns at little at that, because it almost sounds like a compliment. Pride. “Uh, yeah well.” She shrugs, unsure of how to play this. “It’s just what we do right?”

Bruce hums his affirmative, eyes now scanning her. “But you..” Steph stiffens at that, and his eyes track the movement, no outward shift visible, but Steph can almost feel him flinch innerly at it.

Its for that reason alone that she forces her body to relax. “You were in it for longer.” He continues, pretending like nothing happened, like he's not bothered. Steph frowns, unsure of the direction he's taking.

“Yeah, I mean, I had to go in, find him, push him out, make sure he was out, and then patrol.” She shrugs. “No biggie.” Bruce frowns, and Steph squints at him, uncertain of what caused the reaction.

“You patrolled afterwards? Without changing?” Steph jerks one shoulder.

“I mean… yeah?” His eyes scan more intently now, taking in the littering of tissues, the large, thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders in the middle of summer, the redness of her nose.

“You’re sick.” The words are flat. Emotionless.

Steph rolls her eyes. “Great work Sherlock. Yes. I’m sick.” She sparkles her hands around herself in a bad display of joy. “Day off work. Sick day.”

Bruce frowns again, and before she knows it, he's crossed the room to her side. Steph stiffens again without meaning to, but he’s so close and he hasn't been this close since she was Robin and-

He kneels, tugging off his gloves as he presses a hand to her forehead, frown deepening. “You're burning up.” He mumbles, hands now moving faster, checking against her throat and moving to her sides and back, prodding and pushing with a firmness that is both professional and gentle and Steph doesn't know how to feel about it.

She wonders, idly, as his fingers settle on either side of her ribs, just resting there gently, how often he’s done this to Tim. To Dick. And Jason. And Damian and Cass. She wonders if even Duke has already gotten this treatment. If she's the last one. The one he hoped he’d never do it to, after he fired her from Robin.

“I’m taking you home.” Bruce announces without much fanfare, fingers finally slipping away from her sides as he stands, and Steph cant help but feel like she's lost something as he puts distance between them.

She glances around her apartment. “I am-”

“The Manor.” He corrects, and if Steph didn't know better she would swear his throat bobs, cheeks red. “You need medicine and food and- I don't know what else but you wont get it here. I’m calling Leslie.”

Steph frowns up at him. “But- I- okay…” She uncurls her legs from underneath her, moving to stand. But she must have moved too fast because suddenly the ground is moving closer and her legs have given out-

But Bruce is there, strong and gentle as he swings her into his arms like she weighs nothing, tucking her head against his chest like he does it daily, cradling her close.

“I can walk.” She mumbles as he moves to the window. “I can do it.”

Bruce hums his agreement, grappling away from her tiny, musty apartment. “I don't doubt it.” His breath ruffles her hair, warm against her ear. “But you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Steph's hand contracts on his suit, bunching the fabric, and if a tear slips out of her eye, well... its just the wind. 

[alexthetrashyracoon]

CW// Smut (It’s probably real bad and sucks) Age Gap (Price is 40, Reader is 25-30) Cheating (Readers’s partner is an asshole and deserves it) MDNI 18+

Price who is hearing you having a fight with your partner about him barely having time for you and probably sleeping with his secretary which they doesn’t actually deny.

So when he hears your scream that they should never come back again, followed by the banging of a door, Price knows, it’s time to make a move, even if it was wrong.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

He knocks, three quick rasps against your front door and a second later, as if you were waiting for someone, probably that loser you call your partner, you rip the door almost out of its hinges. When you see him instead of someone else, you’re visibly disappointed.

“Brought wine and a shoulder to cry on, luv.” He grinned and held the bottle up. You chuckle and step aside. “Thanks, John.”

You sit down on your worn couch, you talk most of the time, Price listens. And he looks, he looks how your lips move with every word you say, how your nose crinkles when you get angry. Or how the disappointment in your eyes was bigger than ever since he met you.

“I could make you forget all about them, luv. Can make you think about nothing else but me for a while or forever, however you like.” Price said and squeezes your thigh.

You both know you shouldn’t go down that way, because Price knows, despite your partner being an asshole with an ego the size of Mars, you’re loyal. But also desperate to be treated like you deserved it.

It’s not long after that he has you riding his cock on the worn couch, Price had worked his way into your pants, gentle touches to your shoulder down to your chest over the swell of your belly and to the waistband of your pants. He has a hand in them the second you nod and give him permission to move on, hand slipping in and playing your most sensitive parts, rubbing, tugging, everything to make you a sensitive mess in his arms.

But Price isn’t a cruel lover, far from it, he makes sure you cum at least twice before he thinks about himself and his pleasure and removes his hard, straining cock from his pants and boxers, strokes it a few times before nudging its red, leaking cock against you winking entrance, Price makes you feel every inch of heated meat he pushes into you, your walls clenching around him, making it hard to move, while he sucks and licks around your pebbled nipples, playing with them until even the smallest hit of cold air makes your eyes turn inwards.

Price will definitely remember all the special spots that make you scream for more, for the next time you and him are together, he’s a simple man who loves to hear more of your sexy noises.

“Shit, so good, taking my cock so well…” He grunts into your ear while plunging into your hole, short cut nails digging into the fat of your thighs, pulling you down at the same time to make it even more delicious for the both of you.

He grins when he feels you clenching around his thick meaty dick a third time, another orgasm building, squeezing harder than before, making it almost impossible for him to keep control. You moan and whine, nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, biting his skin as if to lay claim and Price can’t say he’s against it. “God, I’m close…” He says, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

You cum before him. A choked up, broken moan spilling your lips before he crashes his against yours to swallow every single sound you make while pounding even faster into your hole and seconds later spilling himself inside you.

“Fuck…” You pant when the adrenaline starts to wear off.

“That we did indeed.” Price grins and squeezes your hips, bucking his hips to drive the point home with his softening cock still inside you.

He helps you clean yourself, a real gentleman this one, wiping away the sweat that gathered on your body, massaging your calves and thighs until you’re groaning again, but no (maybe a small amount) sexual tension between them right now.

“Thanks.” You smile, dressed in your oversized sweater, voice still a bit hoarse from your previous activities.

“What for, dear? Fucking you so well or for listening to you?” He asks while sipping his wine.

“Both I guess… I needed that. Think I picked my self-worth back up again thanks to you.” You sound much better now, voice still slightly wrecked but less sad about this loser you call a partner.

Ex-Partner, John thinks to himself.

“Mhm, glad I could help, sweets. Now, let me take you out on a real date, so I’ve got an excuse to fuck you again.” Price grins before catching your lips in another kiss, swallowing your giggles before glancing over to the open apartment door, hiding the grin in that kiss. Price was glad he made you forget about that dick of a partner and he was even gladder to make your partner see how well Price could treat you.

[fairysluna]

May i please request prompt 46 for jace? After their first time maybe and she'd want to do it again :)

hi, love!! im so sorry it took me so long to fulfill your request but it's finally heeere. I did it sliiighty different, but i still hope it is to your liking. thank you for your request and pls enjoy!! ily🤍✨

NON PROOF READ

The eye contact was killing you, your thighs laying on top of his as he brushed his fingertips in your soft skin. Nothing but your thin nightgown was covering your nudity as he hungrily stared at your body. You were nervous; hands shaking, sighing breathlessly as your heart beated faster with anticipation. His brown eyes were digging holes in your skin with that longing they reflected, yearning to finally have a taste of you, and begging for you to nod and give him the green light he so desperately wanted.

Your hands were on top of your mound, holding the piece of fabric in its place so you can be covered and feel less exposed. You knew this was going to be embarrassing for you, having him kiss such a private part of you felt wrong and sinful… and some part of your mind was scolding you for merely considering it.

As his touches reached your hips under the gown, your cheeks felt warm and your mouth agape. Jacaerys smiled softly at you, giving you that feeling of comfort that you needed at that moment.

"I will stop if you don't want it," he whispered, tracing invisible circles on your skin. "Do you want it?"

You bit your lip thinking in your answer as you slowly released the pressure you were putting on the part of the gown that was covering that intimate part of you. Jace smiled softly, expectantly looking for an answer behind your pretty eyes. You wanted to please him, be a good maiden and please your prince; and, as Jace said, you may as well enjoy it as much as him; the only thing you needed to do was to open your legs to him.

So without saying a word, that is what you did. The gown was lifted by innerce, leaving your core exposed to the hungry eyes of the man that was ready to devour you. You closed your eyes as an instinct, not liking the feeling of vulnerability you were experiencing with this. However, you heard a soft moan leaving your lover's lips and that was enough to make you feel a bit more comfortable in your position.

Your body yelped when you felt the pad of his thumb softly rubbing your pearl, it was a teasing touch that almost made your legs shake. It was merely nothing but a taste of what was about to come for you. It felt weird to be touched like this, but it did not feel bad at all either.

Your eyes opened at the exact same moment that he took his thumb inside his mouth and licked it as he groaned. His eyes closed for longer than a second before he decided he could not wait any longer. Jace shifted his position on the bed, now with his head right on top of your heated core. You looked at him as he looked up at you with a grin that made you sigh; so devilishly handsome he was.

He started to kiss your inner thighs, leaving gentle bites and licking the spot afterwards. His fingers started to brush against your folds with the cruel intention to tease you. You forced yourself to bite back a moan that threatened to escape, already getting soaked over small touches.

"You need to promise me," he started, speaking between kisses, "that if you feel uncomfortable, you will make me stop."

You nodded, but that was not enough of an answer for him. He wanted to hear you.

"Say it," he commanded.

"I promise," you breathlessly reply, for he never stopped moving his fingers on you.

Next thing you knew, Jace's nose started to rub against your swollen lips, breathing you in as if he was torturing himself before having the taste of you he craved. You started to get inpatient too, but you were too shy at that moment to even dare to say a word. The only thing you did was to put your right hand on his thick, brown curls, and wait.

"You're so perfect, my love," he whined, almost muttering on the low as he kept teasing you shamelessly. "Thank you for letting me do this. Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

His words were interrupted by his own whimper as he sank himself in you. His tongue did not waste any time and soon was lapping your folds and sloppily moving all over your warmth. Your back immediately arched at the same time your thighs closed around his head and moans left your mouth. Your eyes widened, experiencing this new and pleasuring sensation that was way better that you expected.

Suddenly all the nervousness in your chest was replaced by the lust inside your lower belly which made your mind go blank and only think about him and the immense pleasure he was making you feel. You could feel his tongue wondering all over you, making obscene sounds that only made the heat between your legs grow with each passing second.

It seemed that not only you felt pleasure in these actions, for Jace was desperately gasping and whining as he devoured you like a starving man. He would flick his tongue on your nub to then lick the whole way down until finding your entrance and tease it with it as his nose rubs against your pearl. It was mind-blowing, almost making you desperate for more.

Whenever you would lift your hips as an involuntary movement, he would press them back against the mattress in order to keep you in your place. It still, however, managed to be messy enough thanks to his own despair to taste your release. The man was aching for it, hard and leaking already; the only solution to this, was to start humping the mattress beneath his body as he attended to your necessities first.

Soon you turned into a moaning mess, throwing curses and praises at the air while your hands would pull his hair unconsciously; an action that seemed to have caused something in him, since his moans became slightly louder each time you would tangle your fingers with his dark brown locks, sending vibrations to your core that only multiplied the pleasure you were feeling.

His name was all your lips would say, begging to not stop as you were now close to reach your peak. His slurping noises echoing in the room as his hot breath reached your heated folds and made you shiver, leading you to that sweet moment you both were expecting for so long.

A wave of warmth hit your body as you whined loud enough for the hallway to hear. Your back arched as your eyes clenched closed and your hands tried to push him away from you. Jacaerys, however, kept licking your slick, now collecting your release in his tongue and drinking from it as he let out a loud groan. Your legs were shaking at each side of his head, your breathing trembling as some tears of pleasure fell down the side of your eyes.

Once he felt satisfied, he sat back, staring down at the mess he made out of you and tracing a path with his eyes down to your cunt; his thumb reached for a small touch before he leaned towards you and kissed you slowly but passionately. You were in awe with what had just happened, still feeling numb to think about anything else.

"You taste so delicious, my love," he praised as he started kissing your cheeks, your chin, your neck. "Thank you for letting me do this," he repeated again.

"It- it felt good," you confessed, your voice being unsteady and shivering.

"Did it?" Jace teased, smiling as his lips reached for your ear.

"Yes," you sighed. There was a small pause, where he leaned back a few inches just to see your face with your glistening eyes. He had this infatuated look on his face that made you feel butterflies each time you looked at him. A small smile from him was all you needed to ask, "would you- would you like to do it again?"

Jacaerys smile widened, showing a rose color on his pale cheeks as he softly laughed. He pecked your lips and then he nodded.

"Yes, please…" he replied, excitedly.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jamespotterismydaddy @padfooteyes

JACE TAG LIST — @ganymede-princess

[gloxk]

Mommy’s special Remedy.

Kinktober ♡

A/N: this is something quick for kinktober. Gojo and Reader have a kid(s) (I absolutely adore baby daddy Gojo). I was listening to All Night Long by Thuy (listen to it after the cut. yw.) And when the part that says “Ima kiss both pairs of lips” UGHHH NEED. I love men that will get down and eat you like there’s no tomorrow. Enjoy! Like and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Not proofread. F/M.

filthy smut under the cut.

———————————————————

“Baby, do you think I’d look good with a beard?”. He rubbed his stubble while looking in the mirror. It was early in the morning when you both got out of the shower. Your kids still sleeping in the room next to yours. You grabbed a towel and loosely wrapped it around your body. “Of course you would. You’d look good with anything.” You hummed, leaving a light kiss on his cheek.

“I don’t know, I just might need some help growing it out.” He smirked at you, trailing kisses on your neck. His expression was undeniably promiscuous, his lips stretching from ear to ear. “Sure, I’ll pick you up some beard-growing stuff when I go to the store.” You completely supported his decision, a beard wouldn’t be half bad. You didn’t think it was possible but maybe it would make him more attractive.

“We got a beard-growing kit at home though?” He rubbed your shoulders maintaining eye contact in the mirror. “No Satoru, you’re not using MY hair oil for your beard.” You emphasized “my”. That hair oil was too goddamn expensive to be wasted. “I need mommy’s special remedy. I don’t need any oil. You got exactly what I need.” You were confused about what he meant. You didn’t have a remedy. “What are you talking about? What remedy?” You were unsure of what he meant. You turned to face him, your lips unexpectedly clashing together. “Mmhpm!” You were shocked that he kissed you so suddenly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His hands gripped your ass and placed you on the bathroom counter. He slowly kissed your neck while undoing your towel.

He got down on his knees and hummed softly at the sight. His hands began to part you like the Red Sea. He stares at your cunt for a while before he licks your lips. “Toru- it’s too early for this.” you moaned in between each lick he gave you. “Are you denying me breakfast? Is it a crime to eat?” His hands held your thighs in place as his tongue went to work. Licking and devouring each drop of the liquid you expelled. Eating you like it was his last meal. His fingers dived into your heat mixing and mingling with your slick, creating a lewd sloshing noise. “Mm..fuck.” You moaned out as his tongue continued to dance over your clit. He had no intention of stopping until you were begging him. Your fingers indulged in his white locs. Pulling and tugging at them as you were on the break of release. Your mind was infatuated with the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t run from his hunger as it somehow found its way to you. It was like being a fish on a hook, no matter how much you tried to pull away he would always reel you back in. His nails dug into your thighs scraping the skin, leaving a brutal red streak. “God I can’t get enough of this.” He growled. Your toes curled as his tongue swirled around your pussy. His fingers thrust in and out of you faster than before.

You were a moaning mess, hollering his name begging for that sweet release. He finally gave you what you craved the most. You threw your head back nearly hitting the glass mirror. His tongue slowed its pace and his fingers slid out of you. He put them in his mouth sucking them slowly in a seductive manner. He made sure your main focus was his tongue wrapping around his middle and ring finger. “You make me fucking insane Toru.” You pulled him closer as you were nearly begging for him to take you right there and fuck you silly. “How do you think I feel about you?” His hand clasped around your breast rubbing his thumb against your nipple. Your hands went to his towel to pull it off while kissing him. “Mhm. Show me how insane you are about me.” Your eyes instantaneously lock together. One thing Satoru knew about you was that your eyes spoke louder than anything. And right now they were screaming “Fuck me.” His hand went straight to your thighs once again, slowly slipping between them.

“Mommy! we’re hungry. Are you gonna make breakfast?” Both of you immediately turned to face the door your child was at. You both shared a look of complete horror. “Oh! Yes, Mommy’s coming. I’ll be right there.” you pushed Satoru away and hurriedly put on your clothes. “Satoru, what do you want to eat?” His eyes were still fixed on your naked body. “I’m full, I’ve had my breakfast.” He winked at you leaving a kiss on your neck. “But if you’re on the menu I wouldn’t mind eating one more time.” His arms wrapped around your waist, trapping you in a long hug. “I hate you,” you mumble under your breath as you put on your panties. “Woah there be careful. last time you said that you got pregnant.” He looked back at the mirror to see your flabbergasted expression. His smug face never changed. He waltz out the door leaving you to soak in what he said.

“The beard better be worth it.” You walked out the door on the way to your kitchen.

——————————————————

I MIGHT make a Part 2. We shall see how well this goes.

[gojot-t]

Hihi!! I'm here to place my order for the valentine's event!! I'd love to request an arranged marriage w topping 22 + gojo please!! Like they needed to rehearsal the "you may kiss the bride" kiss and he just kind of messes it up in purpose so they can do it again and again! KSJDJFJS AAAH I LOVE THIS EVENT SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS!!!!!!!

from the valentine's day event! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

gojo satoru + arranged marriage + “Wait, that wasn’t good enough. Let’s do another take.” “…It’s been the fourth take already. Just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

tags :: fem!reader, gojo is down bad, fluff, i ended up going in a slightly different direction and this probably wasn't what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway ><

“You really are an idiot.”

“Hey now, that's how you treat your future husband? tsk tsk.”

It's funny to think how just a few months ago if someone mentioned the slightest possibility of having something romantic with Satoru, you would choke in the most exaggerated way you could before denying vehemently, unaware of destiny's plans for you.

Even if you knew Satoru since you were a child, being each other's escape from the so boring and extraneous clan meetings and messing around until some wrinkled-faced old man lost his temper and yelled at you two, you wouldn't marry him.

From the sullen boy who would always hold your hands to the energetic teenager who would pull your hair if you didn't pay attention to him, you saw all the facets of Satoru, always by his side. Still, for you, satoru is like a flower in a garden – its beauty making you momentarily forget about its thorns.

“hey, I'm feeling kinda neglected here.” a pouty satoru meets your view. “If you have so much time to get lost in that pretty little head of yours, maybe we should practice more?”

“I'm starting to think you set this all up, you know. to play prince charming on me." you narrow your eyes and accuse him softly with your finger on his chest, the sight of satoru in a suit – just before marrying you – it's not easy to resist, after all.

the firm hands on your waist start to go down and you pinch his (stupidly strong) bicep before they can wander any longer. “hmm, why do you think so?” he teasingly moves his face close to yours – warm breath just above your mouth – lips close but never touching. you already know his little games.

The last conversation you had with him before the whole marriage thing was during a night out for drinks, “for the good old’ time sakes” he had said. You weren't planning to ruin the night with your personal problems, but a few drinks later and the heat of his body close to yours seemed to inebriated you enough to make your mouth run faster than your thoughts.

Originally, you would marry a big shot from the Zenin clan. You were not happy about it, still there's little to nothing you could do. The preparations are already being made and the Shiromuku you had to try felt like a cage against your skin, a warning of what your life would be like from then on.

As those slurred words left your mouth, Satoru's entire body seemed to tense up for a moment and for the rest of the night he seemed distant, furrowed eyebrows and thinking about something. He had ended your little hang out earlier than you expected that day, saying he had "important business calling", leaving you back at your home and saying goodbye with a hug and chaste kiss on your cheek, seemingly back to his usual silly self.

You’re never sure what’s on Satoru’s mind, so you decided not to question him despite the strange behavior. He wouldn't tell you anyway.

A week later your wedding was canceled. You would be marrying Gojo Satoru instead.

“Like, the deal being canceled so suddenly, what happened?And- wait, is my father in debt?" your body stiffened against his arms, worried. You try to move away from him a little, but satoru just pulls you closer.

By the way he just giggles in response you know he's not really listening to you. He trails kisses from your jaw to your neck, teasing lightly with his tongue before burying his nose deep in your hair. “You smell so good…” He seems strangely happy today, all smiley and clingy. “But, no. You can try to guess one more time, though.”

The same second you open your mouth to respond, muffled footsteps can be heard outside the room you're in and you know it's the maids returning with the final jewelry and makeup. Satoru took advantage of the small gap in their presence, basically barging into your room and demanding that the two of you practice kissing for when the two of you finished your vows, apparently too eager to keep his hands to himself.

he groans and drops his head on your shoulder, before looking at you with expectant eyes, just like a child would with their favorite candy in a store. "How about just one little kiss, huh? to be sure that everything will turn out well, you know, that's very important!”

you should say no, you really should, you don't have that much time anymore and one kiss with satoru easily turns into two, three until you're both out of breath, mind clouded with desire, but the protest dies in your mouth when satoru’s soft lips meet yours.

you were half expecting him to mess up again, just like every time he asked for "just one more kiss", turning his face at the last second for you to kiss his cheek or nibbling on your lips before pulling away completely, but he doesn't do any of that, instead, he kisses you, lips dancing against yours, feeling you, appreciating you.

this time, you're the one pulling him closer, hands on his nape and feeling his skin react to yours. Despite your desperation for each other, the kiss is nothing but slow and gentle, a shy waltz between two lovers. If before you couldn't imagine marrying satoru, now you think that a life without the weight of the ring on your finger, sealing him to you, would make no sense.

Satoru tongue caressing yours brings you back to reality and you pull away, before you both really get lost in the moment. "satoru-”

“wait… that wasn’t good enough. let’s do another take…” he chases your lips again, hands on your cheeks and his eyes, normally so bright, are almost dark blue, clouded with desire for you.

the sight of him now, flushed and with swollen lips, makes your face heat up and you cover your nervousness before he can tease you. “…It’s been the fourth take already. just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

“huh, bossy, aren't you?" there's a knock on the door but satoru just smirks and winks at you. "but it's okay, I really like kissing my bride.” the handle turns and he connects your lips with his again.

“my lady, i'm coming-” when you open your eyes, satoru's has completely disappeared from the room, the only trace of his presence being your messy appearance and tingling lips.

“-in. I have returned with the final preparations and- oh… my lady, do you feel alright? you seem kind of... nervous?”

you swear you can still feel the warmth of his hands against your body. "a-ah? oh, y-yes! yes, I'm fine. umm, where did we stop again?”

[slicznymartwy]

stand by your man

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

tags: first meetings, cannibalism, thomas hewitt wears a face in this one guys, canon-typical violence, misogyny, slut shaming, fluff and angst, ambiguous/open ending, i mean to me its happy but yk, bad guys win sort of ending notes: second person pov – cis fem reader with some defined traits (tall, midsized, long hair). everything else is up to interpretation. i'm sorry if this fic seems really cruel towards thomas :( i love him i promise

read on ao3

Humid felt like an understatement on a day like today. Walking inside your little wooden shack felt like swimming in pond water, thick and stagnant. The morning wasn’t so bad but, before lunchtime, you had thrown open every window on the chance that a breeze would sweep through, even if it was only for a moment.

But there’s no wind today, which leads you and your old orange cat sitting like panting dogs out on the front porch. Your stomach growls, but you can’t imagine getting up and cooking for yourself like this. You want some soda fountain ice cream, but downtown is a long walk and the drugstore has been closed down for a few months anyhow.

Groaning, you roll onto your side and daydream about frothy root beer floats. You’re so deep in your fantasy that you hardly notice when your cat scrambles onto her feet, faster than summer lightning, and books it out the dusty yard on the heels of a field mouse.

“Goddamn it, Peanut,” you say to nobody, watching her go with a disappointed sigh. She must’ve been starving to run like that in this heat. You watch her go and go until she runs into the grass. Then you don’t see her at all.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

“Peanut?” you call out, sitting up. She’s nowhere to be seen, not even in the shady live oak a stone’s throw from the house. You stand up and walk out towards the grass, feet burning on the sun-exposed dust.

“Here, kitty kitty!” you call out, looking for movement in the fields. There is none, so you cup your mouth and try again, louder. “Here, kitty kitty! C’mere, Peanut!”

Nothing but the buzzing bugs.

Your little housecat wasn’t made for the Texan wilderness. She was getting old and preferred to spend her days napping in whatever spot was the coolest.

Wading into the tall grass, you almost want to forget about ever having a cat, but you know you could never. You love Peanut, even if she gets on your nerves.

The fields are droning with critters that you can’t even see. It’s like they’re all complaining about the heat, and you find yourself agreeing with them. You wish you had grabbed some shoes before heading out, but you’re already this far – besides, if you return home now, you’re sure you won’t want to keep looking.

You don’t know how long you walk, but the sun is high over your head when you find an old wooden fence. Trees line the property on the other side, and it sure is tempting to hide under those pretty green leaves for a while, but you’re getting more worried the longer you look for your cat. Maybe a dog or a snake got to her first.

You hop up onto the fence and swing a leg over, then the other. Standing on the bottom rung, you hold onto the post for balance. Cupping your mouth with your free hand, you shout out into the field, “Peanut!”

Thomas was bored.

They had guests two days ago, but Thomas was already finished separating meat from bone and cartilage. Before that, it had been almost two weeks since their last visitors, and he thinks he got a little too excited at the prospect of getting to butcher something.

They weren’t even handsome enough to keep. The whole thing felt like a waste.

It’s a hot day, but Thomas doesn’t mind it. It not much, but walking in the shade at least gets the sun off of him. The oaks circle their home, and he can walk in on one end and come out on the other, pretty much in the same place. He’s curious today, though.

No meat at home. He might as well walk as far as his legs will take him.

The leaves sway and rustle together quietly when the wind comes by, but even then the air feels thick. Thomas trudges along, looking for something he doesn’t know about yet. There’s movement in the brush, but he can see it’s just a fat orange cat. It bolts when Thomas stomps past it, running into a clearing of tall grass. Thomas keeps on going, searching.

Hearing a shout, he knows he’s found it.

The noise was far, but not too far to walk towards. The sound keeps repeating, and it’s a female sounding voice; today’s his lucky day since he didn’t bring anything with him. She might go kicking and screaming, but it shouldn’t be too hard to throw an unsuspecting woman over his shoulder and carry her to the basement.

Reaching the tree line, the brush and the tree limbs part to reveal you.

Tall and full bodied, he sees your legs first. They’re pressed together as you stand on his fence, and your dress rides up as you bend forward at the waist.

“Peanut!” you yell, and he realizes it’s what you’ve been yelling the whole time. You curse under your breath and wipe at your forehead. Your hair is long and it’s loose, falling down your back past your shoulders. You’re sweaty and you don’t wear any shoes. Thomas watches your curiously.

You must have given up on whatever you were doing, because you step down from the fence and lean on it, putting your forehead on your folded arms. Thomas stares. You don’t look like the usual kind of guest.

Guests were usually tourists, and although Thomas couldn’t place you, he could tell that you were local. You wore a house dress like Momma, and you didn’t wear shoes outside. You were a Texas girl, Thomas realized.

He’s not sure the last time he met a real Texas girl. Probably not since he stopped going to the doctor in town, and that was when he was still a little kid.

Thomas was torn. He’s never killed townsfolk before. Meat is meat, the annoying little Charlie in his head hollered at him, but his Momma was in there too, telling him that there wasn’t anything left of their town. Shouldn’t he try to keep their town alive? Wouldn’t that make Momma happy?

He’s still debating with himself when you turn around and startle. He’s expecting you to scream and run away from him, but you don’t. You close your eyes, cover your chest, and sigh heavily.

“I am so sorry, mister. I thought it was just me and the June bugs out here today,” you say, opening your eyes again.

You smile at him, and Thomas feels like someone’s nailed his feet to the dirt. You watch Thomas as he watches you. Your smile falls a little bit, and Thomas knows why. He was expecting it, anyways.

“I’m sorry if I’m trespassing, mister, really. It’s just that I live out that way and my cat ran away this morning. I’ve been looking everywhere for her, I thought I could get a better look of the field from up on the fence,” you explain, gesturing behind yourself as you talk. Thomas likes the way your hair moves when you turn, and even though it’s wet with sweat, Thomas's fingers itch to stroke it out of your face.

He's no genius, but he can tell you’re worried. You’re making the same worried face Uncle Monty makes when Uncle Charlie was yelling at him. He was gonna walk anyways, he tells himself, as he gestures for you to follow him.

You look surprised, but you hurry to his side as Thomas starts striding through the trees. You sigh once you’re in the shade.

“Hell of a day, today. Even the shade is hot enough to fry an egg,” you say, walking behind him. You were taller than the other girls that came around here, but still only came up to his chin. He wasn’t gonna bother waiting for you to catch up, one way or another, and strode forward.

Your daddy always used to say that you could talk a gate off its hinges, but walking with this enormous stranger, you found yourself all out of words.

He cut a massive and daunting figure, especially with that dark mask covering his nose and mouth. His clothes were dirty, with brownish reddish stains covering him and his butcher’s apron. His dark curls were unruly and stuck together from sweat underneath the straps and buckles of his muzzle.

There was no better word for what he looked like than mean, but that never scared you off before. Your grandpa was a mean-looking man too, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever known. You just wished the guy would talk to you too, that’s all. Maybe that would make the twisty nerves in your stomach go away.

Just as your mind starts getting creative about where the stranger could be taking you, he continues past the tree shade to an open field. The grass is still tall here, but it makes rolling waves on top of mounds of dirt.

“Guess here’s a good place to look,” you say, and you trudge forward in the tall grass. The dirt is cool between your toes, and you make little clinking noises with your tongue, interrupted by the occasional, “here, kitty.”

Thomas leaves your side to look on his own. The grass here is thick, and the holes make for some nice shade. Probably pretty nice for a little critter looking to get out of the heat.

You’re bent over, inspecting one of the holes, when you hear a familiar grumpy meow. You shoot back up, glancing down in the tall grass before your eyes land on the masked giant. In his arms is your fat orange cat, looking very displeased about being out in the sunshine.

“Peanut! You found Peanut!” you cry, jumping for joy before running to his side. The man stands there, frozen in place, while you take the cat from his arms and kiss her little forehead.

“Naughty girl, running away from home like that,” you scold, patting the spot above her tail like a faux spank. It barely even lands on her, but she still meows in annoyance. You laugh a little bit and look up at the man who’s already looking at you. Your smile softens as relief makes way for gratitude.

“Thank you, mister. You’ve got no idea how much this little guy means to me. How can I repay you?” you ask, holding on tighter to your cat so she can’t jump from your arms.

He doesn’t answer. You bite your lip.

“You free tomorrow?” you change your question. The man pauses before nodding. “Meet me by the fence again, okay? Same time as today.” The man watches you blankly, but the fact that he’s helped you already puts you more at ease. You smile at him and nod with a sense of finality.

“Thanks again. I’m gonna get out of your hair now.” He stands in the sun, and as you retreat back to the shade for your journey home, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re hidden by the trees.

“He seems nice,” you say to Peanut, who cries out pitifully at being carried. It’s gonna be a long walk home, you realize, as she squirms in your arms to break free again.

Thomas isn’t stupid, no matter what people like to say about him. All things considered, though, he feels pretty stupid standing behind the oak tree nearest to your meeting spot by the fence.

He knew you were coming this time. He could have brought his chainsaw, and if that was too heavy, he could have easily grabbed a hammer or his hook. He could’ve even kept them in his pocket, if he wanted to keep his hands free for the hour long journey.

Instead, he stood weaponless behind a tree, nervous to see you again.

His heartbeat races when he hears footsteps coming from the other side of the fence. He’s finally made up his mind to turn around and leave when you finally spot him. He sees a flash of your smile before forcing his eyes to the dirt.

“Hi, mister,” you say, and just like yesterday, his feet don’t really work. “Sorry if I’m a little late, it’s only ‘cuz I was pulling this out the oven.” He looks over at you and sees the brown basket in your arms, a plaid napkin covering whatever was inside.

Thomas nears you, noticing how your long hair was pulled away from your face into a braid that disappeared behind your back. You wore the same dress, but Thomas liked the way it looked on you. It clung to your chest and loosened around your hips, but the material was thin enough that it stuck to your sweaty legs just slightly.

His attention was forced back to the basket when you put it against his chest. With an empty brain, he grabbed it with both hands from the bottom.

“It’s water pie. My nana used to make it during the Great Depression. Kinda feels like that again nowadays, huh?” you say.

You smile as you say it, but it doesn’t feel like your big smiles, like the kind you gave him when he found your cat, or like how you smiled when you saw him behind the tree.

Thomas opens the napkin to see a still warm pie in the basket, glossy with a mix of white and yellow. He’s never heard of water pie, but Momma didn’t get the chance to make a lot of desserts these days.

He walks to the shady tree, wiping a hand on his apron, and sits heavily with his back to the tree. He has to look over his shoulder to find you, and you’re still standing by the fence.

Annoyed that you’re so far away, he quickly gestures for you to join him.

You give him one of your real big smiles and jump over the fence before sitting next to him, back also to the tree. He watches you take a dull butter knife from the basket and slice the pie up. You look up at him, and he looks down at you.

“Do you eat with that on?” you ask.

Thomas shakes his head. He keeps staring at her.

“Wanna take it off?” you ask next.

Thomas shakes his head again on instinct, but once he stops, he takes another look at the pie. He remembers it being warm still. His head nods once, the movement miniscule like he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I’ll look away if it makes you feel better. Swear I won’t look,” you say. Thomas breathes weird and turns away from her before reaching up to take it off.

You hear the buckles being undone and take it as your cue to turn away from the man.

It’s another hot day today, but you wouldn’t have missed your impromptu visit even if the fields were burning. Sure, the man might be odd, but he was mysterious as all get out and you longed to know more about him. It felt a little bit like you were a school girl again, crushing on a cute boy from your class, but it didn’t matter; you promised him repayment, and you always tried your hardest to make good on your word.

You reach behind yourself blindly for a piece from the basket and accidently brush against his hand.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you say with a little laugh, eyes trained ahead at the fence.

He takes a piece, then you take the slice next to his.

The filling is sticky and gooey, but it stuck together solid when you picked it up. You eat it slowly, savoring the memories that came with the taste, as well as the gentle breeze that picks up under the leaves.

You debate with yourself for some time about grabbing another slice but, figuring he probably wasn’t looking your way, you reach behind yourself and touch the ceramic pie dish instead. You run your hand in a circle and all you feel are crumbs.

“Well gee, mister, I’d’ve made two if I knew you’d be so hungry!” you said cheerfully, grinning as you brought your finger up to your mouth to lick it clean. It wasn’t exactly true, since you barely had the ingredients for one, but he probably already knew that, the town being in the state that it is. “I’m glad you liked it. An empty pie dish is a great compliment.”

You can hear the buckles of his mask again and keep busy by reaching for the basket behind you, folding the napkin back up. It’s pleasantly quiet before the question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since meeting the man finally springs out.

“What’s your name, mister?” you ask, still not looking at him. He doesn’t respond, and you risk glancing back at him. His mask is on, but he doesn’t look at you. It occurs to you that maybe the guy just can’t talk.

Opening the napkin again, you take out the knife and use the rounded tip to write in the dirt. It’s awkward and it’s none too pretty, but your name is clear enough to read. You look to him with a smile and hold the knife out to him, handle first.

He looks between the knife and your name on the ground before carefully taking it from your hand. You already knew his hands were massive but seeing the difference so plainly before your eyes made you blush. Tearing your gaze away from his appendages, you watch the dirt instead as he spells his name out. He writes it thickly, his muscles gouging out the dirt easily with a dull rounded tip. Thomas.

You glance up at him, and when your eyes meet, it feels like electricity.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” you say. You don’t expect an answer, but he nods anyways.

The sun was past its peak when you finally stood, brushing off your dress. Thomas met you at the fence after you had jumped over it again, basket swinging on your arm. You asked him if he could meet again tomorrow, promising another dessert.

He told himself to say no. He couldn’t picture hurting you the way he did when he first saw you, but he knew this wouldn’t be any good. He’s not the type to make friends, especially not with pretty ladies. It must be his heart controlling his neck muscles because he nodded instead. At least he got to see that smile again.

And so, he met with you again. And then again the day after. Then even the day after that one.

It was only a matter of time before his uncles and Momma realize he’s been out of the house for most of the day, but only Charlie says something about it during their family dinner. He’s loud in Thomas’ ear, and Thomas keeps his head down avoid looking at him. It makes him feel better to call him Charlie in his head. Not Hoyt. Just stupid drunk Charlie.

“You better focus on your work, boy,” Charlie threatens, steak knife pointing at him from across the table.

Thomas goes down to meet you the next day, anyways.

“Hi, Tommy,” you chirp happily, straddling the fence before hopping onto the other side. Thomas liked that you started calling him that, but he doesn’t let himself show it.

He rubs his hands on his apron to get the nerves out of his system and gives a little wave with his first free hand. You don’t have a basket today, but Thomas doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to see you.

“How’s your day treating you so far?” you ask, like you always do. Thomas shrugs, like he always does too. “Peanut misses you, I think. She wants to come with me, but always stops on the porch.”

Thomas thinks about the orange cat again. He wants to tell her that it probably just misses you, since it had been glaring at Thomas from your arms that day. Instead, he just tilts his head at you, not knowing how to gesture all that with his arms.

It’s easy to listen to you. Even when you leave open ended questions, you don’t make Thomas feel pressured to respond. He’d long since given up on pantomiming since he was a teenager, but people still annoyingly waited for his responses. You talked to him like he was an adult, and you never complained about having to deal with him.

You’re talking now, something about Peanut pushing things off counters, and all Thomas can feel is gladness. It’s been a long time since he felt it so strongly, so innocently. He kind of feels like a little kid again, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you under the shady tree in the summertime.

When he touches your hand, you cut yourself off and look up at him. It startles him a little bit, because he realizes that he had nothing he really wanted to tell you. He just wanted to touch you.

“You doing okay?” you ask him, putting your other hand on top of his. Thomas looks down at your hands and nods. He’s doing better than okay. He wants to keep feeling your soft skin on his hand.

“You sure? Looks like somethings on your mind,” you say, sounding sorry. Thomas struggles with how to tell you, which he’s sure you notice. He suddenly takes your hand in his and flips it so that your palm is facing up and your smooth delicate wrist is visible. With his calloused dirty finger, he starts to spell.

“What are you doing?” you say, standing a little straighter and watching how he made the same shape again and again. “Are you… is that a K?”

Thomas nods quickly, looking at you for a split second before focusing down again and drawing a straight line.

“That’s an I. K-I…” you look at him attentively as he gathers his courage. He writes the next two letters quickly in succession. He does it once more before you look up at him, your pretty eyes wide and shinning. “S-S. Kiss.”

Thomas is sure his face is flushed, but he nods. There’s no backing out of it now.

“Oh, Tommy,” you say, and your confusion melts into a smile. “Of course, I’ll kiss you.”

He’s still hunched over from writing on your arm, so the hand you put on his cheek doesn’t have to work much to guide him towards your lips. You’re ready to lean in when your lip brushes against his mask. You laugh softly, running your hand down from his hair to stroke along his covered cheek.

“Can you take this off?” you ask softly.

Thomas shakes his head quickly, covering your hand with his as if you might try to rip it off of him anyways. He knows you wouldn’t, but he can’t think about risking it. Not when you’re so close.

You bite your lip as you think. His own lips move under the mask, imaging what it would be like to touch yours with his. He wishes he was normal. He wishes he had one of his real masks on.

You guide him down lower and tilt your face higher up, and Thomas can feel your lips on his forehead. His eyes close instinctually. He trusts you.

You kiss the spot between his eyebrows next, and he sighs shakily. His hands move your waist, holding you gently.

Then, you kiss the bridge of his nose, and your bottom lips must brush against the edge of his mask. His stomach turns at himself, but he pushes the feeling away.

Your lips follow along the edge of the mask, kissing on the little bit of skin showing under his left eye. When you kiss his temple, your hand moves to cup the back of his head and he shudders.

“I hope you’ll trust me enough, one day,” you say softly, and he practically bends in half to hide his face in your neck. He doesn’t cry, but his throat feels tight like he might. He swallows it all back. He shakes his head softly in the crook of your shoulder, wishing he could correct you. He would bare himself to you completely today if he didn’t think you would run screaming. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to handle that.

Your hands are a soft but persistent pressure on his shoulders. When he straightens up again, he looks down at you.

You lean up suddenly, lip slotting against his mask. Your top lip brushes between his. You taste like sugar and summer air. The kiss is done quickly, but Thomas can’t open his eyes yet. He licks his lips where yours just touched him and commits the taste to memory.

“You still in there?” you ask after a long moment, and Thomas opens his eyes to see you smiling playfully at him.

Thomas smiles when he nods, and stops nodding when you lean in to kiss him again.

He’s never felt so light in his life, having said goodbye to you at the fence after another hour of listening. You even kissed him goodbye, lips touching briefly through the mask as you stood on opposite sides of the fence.

Thomas promised you tomorrow, nodding at your request to see each other again.

His good mood lasts until he gets close enough to the house to hear shouting. He sees Charlie flailing his arms like a mad man by the back of the house, yelling Thomas’s name.

“Where in the ever-loving fuck have you been?” he shouted by the garage, spit flying. Thomas hurried his gait as he neared them. Charlie was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. He steeled himself for what the furious man would sling at him next. “I’ve been screaming for you for the past fucking two hours. Jesus fucking Christ, Thomas! You know, I defend you when people call you names, but maybe you are slow. Just how fucking gone are you up there, huh?!”

Thomas glares at the dirt, imagines pushing his thumbs into Charlie’s eyes until he can’t scream anymore.

“I can’t even look at you, you fucking disappointment. I brought home two stupid as fuck tree-humpers for you, and this is how you repay me? Look at what they did to me. Look!” he grabs Thomas’ apron and shakes him, and Charlie makes him look at the cut on his head. It’s nothing, Thomas has seen him give himself worse when he’s drunk.

“Go get your toy and mow those fuckers down. They’re not getting far, not after what I done to one of them,” he mutters, looking down the dirt road where Thomas can see the distant figures of two limping people. Sighing, Thomas takes off after them, grabbing a hammer from one of the junk piles by the garage.

He didn’t think about you until well into the early morning. He is taking a break from his work, sitting outside while the rest of the family slept in their bedrooms. Blood coated his apron, and he sat on the wide porch with a heavy sigh. He thought about you, wondered how someone so nice could ever want somebody like him.

Thomas was not stupid. He knew murdering people was wrong, just like he knew he was wrong for liking it so much. And he knew he was wrong for liking you.

Rubbing his new face with both hands, he hauled himself up to walk back to the basement. He readjusted the eyeholes as he walked – he had made them too small this time. He’d have to fix that before he did anything else.

Thomas is only one step away from the trees when Charlie hollers his name from the back porch. Thomas sets his jaw and looks over his shoulder to see his uncle gesturing and shouting at him. He can’t make sense of what he’s saying, and he doesn’t really care to. He doesn’t let up, though, so Thomas forces himself to turn back around and trudge back to the house.

He stands in front of Charlie silently.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands. Thomas has no way of answering, even if he wanted to. His arms cross thickly over his chest instead.

Charlie glowers at him, and Thomas’ stare is just as dark.

“You listen to me, boy. Now, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, but I think I had good reason to be cross with you. Your family needs you here, Thomas. We need you to keep us safe. What if something happened to your momma?”

Thomas’ eyes glance at the house, where he knew his momma was resting comfortably. Still, the thought unnerved him. Looking back at Charlie, he sees the self-satisfied look on his face, like he knows he won.

“Be a good guard dog and guard the fucking house. Please.”

Thomas’ jaw tightened. He thought about you, walking from your home to see him. Thought about what you might’ve brought, although he wouldn’t care either way as long as you were there. But Charlie had a point. What if Charlie brought guests and they tried to hurt one of them? What if they hurt Momma?

A frustrated noise left his throat and he stomped away from Charlie back to his basement. He couldn’t think straight. The damn sun shined too brightly, and it made his head hurt. Slamming the door to the basement shut, he welcomes the darkness and sets his sights on his unfinished projects.

He only rises from his basement when the sun starts to set. A walk through the house tells Thomas he’s alone, the other members dispersing to be on their own too.

He’d been sad, passing the time while thinking about you getting stood up. Sadness in his chest, he walked to the fence anyways. He might feel better if he could just look at it and imagine how you look in your pretty dress.

At the end of his trek, he freezes as he passes the last low hanging branch. There you are, laying unconscious by the oak tree. He rushes to your side and hesitates helplessly before kneeling next to you. He holds onto your shoulders and tries to shake you awake, harsher and harsher as you don’t wake up. He’s beginning to panic when you suddenly open your eyes with a gasp. You stare up at Thomas with wide eyes. They shine in the white Texan moonlight.

“Thomas?” you whisper.

“What time is it?”  You sit up and Thomas stays next to you, arms awkwardly hovering around you like you might fall asleep again. He’s breathing hard like he’s been running. “Is it nighttime already?”

Thomas nods, sighing finally once he catches his breath. Head low, he touches your arm and drags his hand down past your elbow to catch your hand. His brows are drawn, and despite his size, he seems to shrink as he clutches you like something delicate that might blow out of his hold.

He looks up when you touch his chin, gently guiding him to meet your eye.

“You okay? Did something happen?” you ask him. Thomas just shakes his head, squeezing your hand in his. He carefully turns your arm over, revealing your wrist. There, he writes down four letters. S-O-R-Y.

“Sorry? Oh, bubba, you don’t have to be sorry,” you murmur, smiling at him. “I needed a little nap, anyways. C’mere.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a little hug. He melts into you, forehead pressed against the crook of your neck.

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, hand rubbing down his spine. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I should start on back,” you say after a few silent moments, your hand still rubbing comforting circles on his back. Thomas stiffens and pulls away, and he won’t meet your gaze. You don’t want to part from him tonight, you realize.

When he glances at you, you’re biting your lip.

“Unless you know somewhere we can spend the night?” you suggest softly. Thomas’s face is blank as he thinks about it, but he soon stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and he hauls you up, leading the way through the trees. You like how he holds your hand, all encompassing and pleasantly warm in the breezy night air.

He brings you to a barn, standing alone in an empty field. It looks out of use, but bales of hay still line some of the walls, as well as some common tools for the land. You don’t bother looking around too much – you only have eyes for your Tommy. He stands in the barn, looking around for the best spot to lay down. You know it’s wherever he is, his wide chest looks like it’ll be a softer pillow than what you have at home.

“Tommy, c’mere,” you say, finding a bed of dry hay that looks cleaner than the rest. You sit down first, laying back in the rustling fodder. Your eyes meet his as you stretch your arms above your head.

Thomas stands above you. His eyes are dark.

“Lay down with me,” you speak softly. Thomas glances out the open barn doors for a moment before giving up on whatever battle was going on through his mind. You watch him unfasten his dirty apron and hang it off one of the half stables beside them. He lays down beside you, his heavy weight making the pile unsteady. You fall into him with a little laugh, a steadying hand on his chest.

“Oops,” you say with a little smile. You’re surprised to see Thomas return it. He has such a handsome smile; you wish he would smile more for you.

Leaning up, you kiss him through his mask, hands coming up to hold his face.

He exhales heavily, it almost sounds like a moan. He tries to kiss you back, but it’s impossible through the thick leather. Sighing  softly, you kiss his temple and forehead instead, trying not to seem too frantic. It’s difficult, though, as you feel your body make you aware just how badly its craving Thomas.

“Please, Tommy. Please. I wanna kiss you. Please take it off,” you whisper, lips brushing against his tanned skin.

Thomas goes stiff hearing his pleas and pulls away. You watch him go with a pout. He turns away from you slightly.

“Thomas,” you say softly. He turns away further. Sighing quietly, you touch his shoulder. “Tommy. You know it don’t matter to me how you look. Not one bit. I’m always gonna think you’re my handsome guy.”

Thomas shakes his head, but you don’t give up. Kneeling, you hug him from behind, arms wrapping up to his shoulders from underneath his arms.

“I mean it, Tommy.” You put your forehead on his warm back. “I would never think bad about you. Hell, you could kill someone and I’d find a way to defend you,” you say with a little teasing smile. You feel Thomas put his hand on your forearm, gentle and unmoving.

“I could keep my eyes closed,” you suggest quietly. Thomas turns at that and looks at you with imploring eyes. You smile at him, small and secret, and free an arm to cup his cheek. You kiss the bridge of his nose just above his mask before pulling away.

You sit up and turn away from him partially, eyes closing and hands coming up to cover your eyes. “Ok, Tommy. I’m ready.”

In the dark, you rely on sounds. It’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear the buckle of the mask being undone. You exhale shakily, your heart beating near out of your chest. He must have set it down on the ground beside them because you can feel his hands on you, one on your elbow and the other covering your hands just over your eyes.

You’ve never really been described as small, but you feel it next to him. Even without vision, his presence alone towers over you. It should be intimidating, but it only makes you feel safe.

Your lips part and you drop your hands, letting Thomas touch your face directly. It’s even better since you can now put your hands around his back and hold him close.

Despite his size, he kisses you timidly, like he’s shy you’ll shatter into pieces with too much force applied. His touch is so gentle, even as he crowds you. You kiss him back passionately, encouraging him silently with your enthusiasm. You suddenly long to be naked in front of him, to let him blindfold you and use you however he needs. You know he’d be careful with you if this is how he kisses.

“Tommy,” you murmur between kisses, hands fisting in his shirt. “Tommy, I think I love you.”

Thomas can’t answer you, but he kisses you again and again like he’s saying the same.

Weeks pass. The summer turns into autumn, but the heat doesn’t go anywhere. Thomas can’t meet every day, but he wishes he could. Tourists come by from time to time, and everyone in the family does their part to make ends meet.

You’re all alone out here, he knows from your late-night talks. On evenings where neither of you had anything to do the next morning, you and Thomas would walk together to the barn. You always clung to his arm once the building was in sight, glancing up at him from time to time with your shiny eyes. He’s pretty sure you were both a little nervous everytime, but it was a good kind of nervous. He didn’t know there could be a good kind until he met you.

Thomas holds you on the hay pile, more comfortable now with a blanket you brought from home thrown over the mound. You’re naked, and Thomas likes your soft cool skin against his own. Although you’re both covered in sweat, the night is cool and comfortable, and Thomas likes the way you rub your hand slowly across his chest.

When your stomach growls, Thomas glances at you.

“Sorry,” you say. You smile, but it looks sad. “Just hungry. It’s been hard finding stuff to eat with the town being empty.” He knows the feeling well.

He takes your arm from where it’s resting on his stomach and gently twists your wrist towards himself. H-O-M-E, he spells.

“Mine?” you ask softly, head cocking to the side.

Thomas shakes his head and points to himself.

“Yours? What about it?” you ask softly, looking up from your wrist.

F-O-O-D, he spells next. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh, Tommy. You’re too kind to me,” you say softly, and Tommy lets go of your arm so that you can hug him.

His arms instinctually go around your waist, holding you close. He wants to tell you that he’s not just being kind. He would give everything he owns to you if what he owned was worth giving. He kicks himself mentally for not thinking about getting you some food sooner, though.

“Can we go tomorrow?” you ask. He wants to bring you there today, but there won’t be any food this late. He nods, hands running down your back slowly. He can feel his rough callouses catch on your smooth skin, but you don’t flinch or move away. You never have from him. He wants you, more than he wants to butcher, more than he wants to help his family.

“I should go home,” you say. The sky is dark, but the moon is large and bright in the sky, like the sun. Thomas shakes his head.

“No?” you say, laughing a little bit. You lean back and cup his cheeks over his mask. When you smile down at him, he imagines the touch of your lips against his own. On your back, he draws four letters, S-T-A-Y.

“All night?” you ask, pushing some hair off his forehead.

He nods, eyes stuck to your lips, so close but impossible to reach in that moment.

“Won’t your family be looking for you?” you wonder. You rub your thumb along his eyebrow, soothing him into shutting his eyes.

Thomas shakes his head slightly at the question, not wanting to knock your hands off him. He’s sure Charlie will be mad, but he doesn’t care. How could he when he has you in his arms.

“In that case,” you start, moving your legs apart to straddle his hips, “I suppose I’ve got you all to myself.” Thomas watches you closely as you run your hands down his chest and past his stomach, settling just above his open belt. Neither of you get very much sleep that night.

In the morning, he takes you by the hand as he leads you through the front door. The house is quiet despite its size, which makes it seem like it should be teeming with activity and sound. The outside is grey and dusty, same as the front foyer where you stand beside Thomas. You glance around, giving him a nervous smile when you finally hear footsteps coming from the other room.

“Thomas Hewitt, where have you been all night! You had us worried sick!” an older lady says, coming through the doorway. She’s short and plump, with tendrils of her grey hair framing her face, and her glasses make her look like a schoolteacher. She stops when she sees you, clearly surprised. “Oh! You brought company!”

You smile at her, stepping forward as she comes to meet you. She grins at you and takes your hands in her own.

“Hi, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” you say, introducing yourself with your name.

“Oh, the manners on this one! Usually, our guests are a little more ornery!” she says to Thomas, laughing. You don’t understand what she means, but you smile graciously as she tries to lead you back to the room she was in. You start to follow her, but stumble against Thomas as he blocks your way. He shakes his head at her.

“No?” the lady questions. She looks confused, but Thomas shakes his head again. He takes your hands from her, and then you feel his arm around your shoulder, keeping you at his side. “Thomas? What on earth is going on with you?”

You’re just as confused, but you don’t want to get in between a family dispute. You look up at Thomas, waiting to see what he does next.

“Is she why you didn’t come home last night?” the woman asks. A cold sweat blooms on the back of your neck with her face falls completely, turning into a blank mask. You’ve only just met her, but you can hardly recognize her from the woman that took your hands.

“I’m Thomas’ girlfriend,” you say, your voice smaller than you intended. You try to clear your throat politely. “I care about him very much, ma’am.”

You gasp when the woman turns on you, her finger pointed at your face as she snaps, “I don’t know how you tricked my son into falling for your tricks, you whore! Hoyt!” Thomas grunts, and the noise startles you – you’ve never heard the man make a sound louder than a labored breath before. Thomas pushes you behind his back and away from who must be his mother.

“No, I’m not a whore,” you say, but your voice is so meek under her disapproving stare. You clutch onto Thomas’ arm, and you can feel his tense muscles.

Someone stomps down the stairs then, an older man in a sheriff’s uniform. Seeing the pistol on his belt, you start to shake.

“And who do we have here?” the man drawls – Hoyt, your mind supplies,

Thomas shakes his head vigorously and stands in front of you completely now, shielding you from his mother and the Sheriff.

“She says she’s Tommy’s girlfriend!” his mother cries, as if she was grieving. The man barks a laugh at that, loud and unbelieving.

“A girlfriend, Tommy! That’s where you’ve been running off to all these weeks! How much he owe you, trollop? Because he ain’t got no money to give,” the man mocks meanly, guffawing as he tries to walk around Thomas to get a better look. You shrink behind Thomas as he does his best to keep you hidden away. “Bet you found her trying to hitch a ride off the highway.”

“I lived in this town my whole life, sir. I swear I’m no hussy,” you say, voice weak and muffled against Thomas’s back.

“Oh, yeah? That mean you two are in love or something?” he says, managing to grab your forearm and pull you out from behind Thomas. You shout in pain as you’re pulled between the two men, causing Thomas to let go of you. Without your shield, you’re faced with the old man and his drunk breath. You cringe away from him when he leans into you, inspecting you like you’re just a thing.

“Just get her out of here,” Thomas’ mother mourns.

“I ain’t no hussy!” you sob, eyes closed as tears start to escape your lashes. The old man laughs in your face, and he shakes you with his grip on your arm.

“Hear that, Momma? She ain’t no hussy! So, you sleep with Tommy for free?”

“I love him,” you sob, face crumpling as you feel yourself finally break. You wish you understood what you did wrong by these people. Thomas tries to break you and Hoyt apart, but the man shoves him away despite being smaller than him.

“Love? You love him?” Hoyt almost screams with laughter. “Does she even know what you do, Tommy? She ever see you without that mask on?

“Why don’t you go ahead and take it off? Take it off, Thomas! Shouldn’t your girlfriend know what you look like?” he turns you in his arms, forcing you to face Thomas. Your heartbreaks for him, and you see Thomas duck his head down low, arms bent by his stomach as he anxiously fidgets his hands.

“Stop it, leave him alone!” you sob, trying to wrench yourself out of the man’s hold.

“Why? Don’t you wanna see what he looks like? Pretty thing like you should have a handsome boyfriend to go along with it, huh?” Desperate, you look behind you to see Thomas’s mother watching the scene unfold with a handkerchief under her nose. You cry out when the man shakes you again, his grip unforgiving for such an old man.

“You know what? Why don’t we give your girlfriend here a tour, huh Tommy? What do you say?” Hoyt asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer when he starts to drag you out through the front door and down the porch steps.

You stumble down them, almost falling out of the man’s arms, but he forces you upright again before going around to the back of the house. Thomas follows you both, and you can see the frantic way he tries to grab for you but hesitates. Even now, you know your sweet Tommy is afraid to hurt you, but you wish he would rip you out from Hoyt’s grip and stand up for himself.

At the cellar door, Hoyt lets go of one arm to push open the wooden door. You can’t see beyond where the sunlight hits the steps.

“Don’t be shy. Go see,” Hoyt says, before you’re pushed down the steps. You shout as you fall, managing to cover your head with your hands, but your body throbs in pain once you land on the cold concrete below.

You weep at his cruelty, curling in on yourself to hide away from the next blow. Instead, you can hear Thomas’s heavy footsteps down the wooden steps. His thick arms wrap around you, and he holds you tightly to his chest.

“Tommy,” you sob, pushing your face into his chest.

“Tell her, Tommy! Tell her what you do! Share your family pride!” Charlie shouts, laughing at them.

“That’s enough,” Luda Mae says quietly from somewhere behind him.

“Show her who you really are, boy, then see if she loves you,” Charlie says. Then he slams the door to the basement shut, leaving them both in darkness.

“Tommy,” you whimper through your tears, starting to lift your head out from his chest. You’re stopped by Thomas’s large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you close. You can’t see the room, but it smells like blood and rot, and it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t ask him because he won’t be able to explain anyways. Hoyt’s words echo in your mind, and even if it makes no sense, you can understand that something is wrong here. But Thomas holds you and rocks you like a child until you have no more tears to give.

You wake up when the setting sun turns the sky orange. You rub your eyes and sit up, suddenly aware that you’re in an unfamiliar place. No one is around. Looking around the room, you see it’s a simple bedroom, with threadbare sheets. The only furniture besides your bed is a nightstand and a dresser with a missing drawer.

“Tommy?” you say out loud, but you don’t hear anything in response. You stand up and go downstairs, realizing as you enter the foyer that you’re still at Thomas’s house.

In the kitchen is the same woman from before.

“Oh, hi, darling. I figured you’d wake up soon. I realize I never introduced myself. I’m Tommy’s momma,” she says, like she wasn’t accusing you of something terrible earlier in the day. You smile weakly at her. You want to ask where Tommy is. You want to go home.

“Why don’t you sit down? You missed supper but I’ve got some leftovers still on the stove.”

You hesitate, but finally make your way to the kitchen table. Your stomach growls at the promise of food as you sit.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for before.”

“Nonsense. I don’t think any of us understood how much you meant to our Tommy.”

You smile and start to eat when she puts the bowl in front of you.

“Where is Tommy?” you ask, looking up at her.

“Working,” she sighs, smiling at you. “We had guests come by in the afternoon.”

“Like a bed and breakfast?” you ask naively. She laughs at you, right to your face.

“You’re a funny one, girl. I see why Thomas likes you. Pretty and with a good sense of humor.”

You smile, laughing shakily as you eat some of the stew. You can’t tell if it’s pork, beef, or rabbit.

“I want to see Tommy. Where can I find him?” you try again.

“He’s working, sweetheart. He made it very clear he don’t want you in the basement anymore.”

Flashes of the basement make you dizzy, and you shake your head.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, dropping your spoon in the bowl and holding your face with both hands.

She sighs gently and puts her hand on top of your head. She rubs your hair flat gingerly.

“Oh, baby. You are home. Everything’s gonna be alright now. You’ve got us to take care of you.” She lets go of you and gets back to her work from before you came down. “You just let Tommy blow off some steam first. He and Hoyt got into a little fight after he brought you to bed. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You swallow thickly as you look around the grey kitchen. You wonder what kind of work Thomas could be doing in that basement with his guests. You look at the bowl of food in front of you.

You’re so hungry.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

[maitimosrighthand]

When you beat them in a fight

( Silmarillion / Tolkien )

House of Féanor

Same goes as Always:

- Question at the end

- I still hold 0 respect for the English language and will not respect criticism for my mistakes

- feel free to share Tolkien memes over the ask me something tag

1.Maedhros (Maitimo/Nelyafinwë)🔥

Lost his hand:

Tends to be unbeatable

When you do in fact beat him in a swordfight he is fairly impressed by your skill

Will train with you more often afterwards

If you get closer to him you will have to deal with his insecurities about losing to you

Thinks he is no longer strong enough to protect

~

When his sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, it left a weighty echo hanging in the air, resonating with an unsettling finality. Perhaps it was the sound of his surprise, or maybe it was the silence offering respect for the gravity of the moment. Mae stood frozen, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe, clinging to the hope that the sound—and everything that had led up to it—was just a cruel figment of his imagination.

If this was truly defeat, then it wasn’t just his life that was forfeit; it meant he had failed to protect his brothers. Had he lost his mind? His focus had wavered in the heat of battle, a fatal mistake. But why? Why had he let himself be so distracted?

It was your face that had entered his thoughts, the image of your laughter, haunting and joyful, almost mocking him in its relief. You had beaten him, and he knew it. But why did it feel like you were the one finding peace, as if you were content to die now that you had proven yourself? Mae, too, felt pride swell up within him—pride in your strength, your courage. And yet, something in his chest tightened painfully. It wasn’t his pride you had struck down; it was his conscience.

His thoughts churned faster than he could silence them, old fears and buried memories rushing back with the force of a storm. Dark dreams he thought he had long forgotten—nightmares where he had failed to save everyone—surged through his mind like the rain now pouring from the heavens. Each drop seemed to mock him, a reminder of past mistakes, of lives lost.

But just as quickly as those thoughts had taken him, they shattered when you threw yourself at him, laughing with that same maddening joy. You pressed your lips to his in a kiss, a soft, fleeting gesture that somehow grounded him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, breaking the tension with a single word.

In that moment, reality came crashing back. It wasn’t time yet. The fight was not over. No one had fallen. His brothers were safe. You were fine. He was fine. Everyone was still here—alive. And the storm that had brewed in his mind began to calm, leaving behind only the sound of rain and the steady rhythm of his breath.

2. Maglor (Kanafinwë/Makalaurë) 🪈

Despite sword fighting not being his strongest attribute he put up quite a fight

He was trying to train you at least a bit so you could protect yourself

Thought you looked extremely hot when you fought with a sword

This guy is down bad

~

Unsure of whether he was the perfect candidate for teaching you swordsmanship yet he decided to give it his best. It has truly been a bit difficult for him to even get a tight grip on it but with a little help from his brothers he was back to his old skills.

The next day he finally decided to show off to you since you asked him to teach you.

Yet imagine his surprise when you beat him. Wasn’t it your first battle? No you were moving to skilled for that.

„Who taught you?“

„Your brothers did…“

To his disappointment he failed to look cool that day. Only later did you realize how much it had meant to him that he lost. His songs flew through the air yet instead of their normal rhythm they swayed around the trees in an absent minded manner. The knocks against his doorframe where left unanswered. He sat on the floor papers splayed around his figure like a halo.

„Is mister going to keep pouting?“

„Perhaps…“

„You know I might be better than you in swordsmanship…“

A dark stare came from the man.

„Buuut. Despite that totally not being the case. You are the only one who can teach me about music.“

He should still feel annoyed over your antics. Yet he couldn’t help himself when you asked him so nicely to teach something only he could do so well.

3. Celegom (Turcafinwë/Tyelcormo)🏹

Doesn’t usually teach anyone anything

Will insist you have to beat him first so that you can join his hunting trips

Yes Huan thought you two where actually fighting and attacked you

Did Celegom find that funny? Yeah

Did he scold him? Also yeah

~

Most days like these were quiet. Nobody dared to make a sound. The rain was slowly pouring down faster yet within the distance two people could be heard fighting.

A doting elf trying to assure his friend that no, he was in fact not strong enough to join him. And just maybe he was right about that.

It soon turned into a battle when you tried to prove him wrong, once again.

Yet the slippery ground was working against you. This may have caused him to underestimate you. To his demise it was his sword that left the wielders hands first.

„You still think I cannot?“

„I…worry.“

„I know.“

It was you who came to hug him weithin the rain. He felt bad for multiple reasons. You beating him and him feeling like the was disappointing you. He wasn’t, you hoped he knew.

He made sure to make up for the mean jokes by spoiling you. Perhaps he also tried to change your mind one last time. Even when you two were laying in the bed together he still couldn’t stop the worry.

„I‘ll have you.“ is what you said before you fell asleep. The elf could only watch and wonder what he had to do to make you change your mind.

„Let’s go hunting together next time.“

„Sure, you have me after all.“

4. Caranthir (Morifinwë/Carnistir) 🌰

The only reason you two would be fighting is if you have to violently show him that he is wrong

He gets angry way too fast when you don’t agree with him

Would be baffled if you managed to beat him

Would accuse you of cheating

Him silently hating you after

But he just really want to tell you he is sry

~

Angry words flew through the air. A slight problem with the children of Finarfin caused another explosion within the elf. Yes he was stopped by his brothers but that only added to his anger and shame. In moments like these you would usually step in and try to calm him, which not always works.

This time you weren’t even home. A long day had passed and you were ready to have a nice evening with you angry little elf. Yet none of that was supposed to happen today.

The first clue was Amrod and Amras awaiting you at the gate. All the joy of coming home faded as quick as it came when they brought the news. It had been half an hour since the argument. And now you had to babysit him.

„Can you be quiet?“ Is what the elf heard after nearly cutting down a tree while letting out his anger by swinging his sword even faster.

The elf swung around letting his hair dramatically swing around to face you. „You have no say in this.“ „Taking the power trip now?“ You where still in your dress yet you knew if he chose this way to calm himself then talking was useless.

„Lay that down.“

„I won’t. So take it from me, or can you not do that?“

He were no master in swordsmanship.

He knew and you knew.

Yet clouded by anger he refused to acknowledge that and you hurt each other a lot in this fight. In the end he swung down too hard cutting slightly at your arm( nothing too serious). A moment of silence before you kicked him back and threw your sword next to him. A few insults flew…

Silence.

Disappointed you walked to your chamber, not feeling like wanting to sleep with him tonight. It was in the middle of the night when you heard your door open.

„What?“

Silence.

He will never acknowledge that you beat him. He was too proud but maybe just maybe him sitting next to you the entire night showed that he had indeed some sort of understanding what your silence meant.

„I apologize.“

You snorted yet you still took him into your arms. He needed you. He knew.

This time the silence didn’t feel like hurting anymore.

5. Curufin (Curufinwë/Atarinkë) ⏳

The first time you fought was about you being „too small“ to ride a horse

Another was when he stole your chocolate that was planned for Feanor as a peace sign ( after dating his fav son )

He would always snatch things from you and you had enough especially when you find your things in trees

So you asked Mae to teach you swordsmanship to humble him

~

It had been way too many days since Mae started training you. You were getting impatient so when Curufin was once again mocking you, you‘ve had enough.

„I assure you I can beat you.“

He had only laughed. It sometimes hurt. You knew his pride and even more so his ego. Yet he meant a lot to you and you were not about to let him go to waste.

„Trying to impress me?“ He was swift you admitted that. But the nice thing about being thought by Mae is that he too wanted to give his brother a good and family friendly beating sometimes. Hence of why he showed you all the good tricks.

Curufin noticed he that you where hitting all his weaknesses.

It was his sword that fell first.

„How? Who taught you?“

You had him at your neck for the rest of the day. Asking questions, even going as far as to ask his own father.

„So who was it?“

He asked. After he let you to ride his horse and gave you so many treats. You felt like royalty.

„Mae.“ „I knew it.“ He was about to stand up and give him a piece of his mind it’s just that he then thought…I could teach them better. And so there you were.

„I don’t want to learn this.“

„Dont worry soon I make sure you are too called swift.“

„This is all your fault Mae.“

6. Amrod (Pityafinwë/Ambarussa)🍎

He taught you how to fight bc he wanted you to beat his brother

Wanted to originally teach you archery but he hated the thought of you beating him in it

Was super upset when you you beat him

Trained day and night after

~

It was strange to see Amrod lose in a fight. He rarely lost to his brother. So it was a surprise to him to. He couldn’t get it off his mind.

You beating him had him worried for days. Was he getting weak or maybe just tired. He has been doing a lot of paperwork of late. Getting older was terrifying. But he never forgot his training.

You saw him on the training ground more often after that. Occasionally alone and sometimes with one of his brothers. Weird, you thought.

You watched him as he trained in the rain and often game into the room way too late.

„Where are you going?“

„Just hanging out.“

After a bit of scolding he was initially trapped inside his room by you. As you made sure to take care of his aching muscles.

7. Amras (Telufinwë/Ambarto) 🍏

He is sure his twin brother taught you that

He had argued with him over it

Was actually a bit upset but still super proud

~

He was surprised of you beating him in the sword fight. He doted on you when you where around. And when you where not he was telling his brother that this was an awful move by him.

Maybe he was not really that happy but that changed really fast. He would show you his swords and teach you more than just fighting with a sword.

He would tell literally anyone who would listen how strong you are and that he loves you.

That second part was new but you just ignored it for now.

„Let’s go hunting together next time. I want to show you how to actually fight animals too.“

„After you ate your vegetables young man!“