#moving items from one location to another

[murdrdocs]

torn at the seams

description. "and if we don't lose our virginities by seventeen, let's just lose them to each other, okay?" you were serious when you told STILES STILINSKI that in middle school, and now that you're both adults, and both still virgins, you intend to hold up your end of the bargain.

includes. SMUT MDNI 18+, loser! stiles (that's just canon), virginity loss for both parties, fingering, protected sex (hallelujah!), typical nervous stiles, teaching, lots of kissing, childhood friends

wc. 5.7k+

a/n: started this a yr ago and found it and finished it. for my bsf, happy (early) birthday! artwork is the kiss by edvard munch. title from cherry by lana del rey

From below, there was a soft thump of music, upbeat song after upbeat song following each other as whatever playlist your friends decided on played throughout the house. The floors and walls vibrate occasionally, giving you a faint idea of the beat. 

You would’ve focused more on it, maybe tried to figure out if it’s a song you’d pressured them into putting into the rotation, if you weren’t so distracted by the body steadily moving around your bedroom. 

You watch Stiles Stilinski, eyes trailing from the back of his faded shirt to the hand holding a red solo cup that you were 80 percent sure was half full of diet Coke. He walks around your bedroom, eyeing the pictures and collectible items you’d acquired over the years. 

Your own solo cup sat on your nightstand, temporarily living with more trinkets. A photo of you and friends, a few rings you didn’t intend to wear tonight, a tube of chapstick that usually sat on your lips in place of the lipgloss you wore tonight, a hand cream. The items you intended to use shortly were stashed under your pillow, purposefully put there for easy access. 

You had the urge to slide your hand under there and check their location, suddenly fearful that something had happened to them between the time you sat them there and went downstairs to join the party. 

But doing so would’ve been too obvious, so instead you sit still on your bed, shoes discarded and your feet folded under you. 

You continue to watch Stiles observe, your lips tugged into a small smile, remembering just how hyperactive Stiles could be. 

“And this picture. When was this?” he asks you. 

You lean forward a little, looking around his body whenever he steps off to the side. The photo in question is of you standing at an amusement park, just a year or so younger, a grin on your face as you stood in front of a popular attraction. 

“Early last year, my family trip.”

Stiles nods, understanding without details that every year your family went on a trip together, extended and immediate meeting at one location for at least a week. There were times when you were younger when you had to ditch plans with Stiles for your family. 

He doesn’t point out another picture. He rocks on his feet, amber eyes looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly, it occurs to you that Stiles is nervous. 

It’s different from how he used to behave when he was nervous as a kid. Then, he would stammer, gnaw on his bottom lip, tap his hands on the desk or his knee. Now his fingers subtly tap against the rim of his cup, his other hand stuffed in his pocket. He’s silent. He licks his lips instead of gnawing on them and the action directs your gaze right to them. 

You try not to stare, averting your eyes elsewhere. 

Scooting over to make room, you let your feet dangle off of the edge of the bed and pat the newly created space beside you. Stiles falters, glancing at your hand and then at you. It takes him a second but he eventually places his solo cup on your desk and skitters towards you.

The bed dips with his weight. He sits a little far from you, basically on the other end of the bed. It’s silent again. You both stare straight ahead. You wonder if he’ll speak first, so you remain quiet, waiting for him to make a move. When he doesn’t, you take a breath. 

“Do you remember when we were in middle school? And we made that pact?” 

You look over at Stiles in time to catch him thinking for a second, his eyes squinted and his lips parted. You see it come to him when he turns to face you. 

“You mean the whole virginity thing. If we didn’t lose our virginities by a certain age—” 17. If neither of you lost your virginities by seventeen. ��Then we would …” he trails off, leaving the last bit in the air. 

You finish for him. “Lose it to each other.” 

“Yeah.” A beat, a moment where Stiles doesn’t say anything and neither do you. It’s then that you hear his fingers drum against the bed. “But … but that was just a stupid little pact. We were kids, y’know?” 

You shrug, turning your head to look over at him, fingers starting to twiddle in your lap. “Well, yeah. But I was serious. Were you not serious?” You don’t mean to sound as dejected as you do, but it comes out naturally, an accompanying pout forming on your lips. 

It feels a little manipulative, and you’re trying to get rid of it as quick as it appears, but Stiles already sees. 

Not expecting the effect on him, you’re slightly shocked when you see him start to worry a bit, nerves pushed to the side as he instantly attempts to soothe you. “Wha—Yeah. I mean, yeah. Of course, I was serious. ‘Were you serious?’ D-” He can’t continue his rambling when your lips are pressed against his, gloss finally ending up where you wanted it to. 

He hesitates and you start to worry that you overstepped a boundary. Before tonight, you and Stiles haven’t hung out since freshmen year. Lots of things have changed with you since then, and who knows what could’ve changed with him. Maybe he has a girlfriend, or maybe he was serious about the pact in middle school, but he isn’t serious now. Maybe he already lost his virginity and you’re just the late bloomer. 

You make the first moves to pull back, already planning to scoot to the edge of the bed, apologize, and down the rest of your liquor before going back downstairs. 

But then he kisses you back. Tentatively at first, nothing but a small press of his lips against yours, mimicry of a peck. It’s a tiny movement, but it’s all you need. 

You push yourself closer to him, your duvet rustling under your body. You place your hands in his flannel, fisting the fabric as his hands find your back, his palms resting flat along the curve. 

Eventually, the two of you peel apart, lips separating slowly, leaving both of you to look into the eyes of the other. 

“Was … is this okay?” Your voice is soft, but not because you’re shy. Your voice is soft because that’s how this moment feels—gently, soft, delicate. You feel comfortable in Stikes’ presence, and any timidness dissolves from your body. 

He takes a second, pretty brown eyes scanning your face with a look you’re not used to seeing on his face. His lips pulled into the hint of a smile at the corners, his eyes soft, a little lidded like they were the one time you got high freshman year. He looks relaxed in the way that he is in the morning right before he wakes up, with no stress present in his body at all. Knowing that he’s like this because of you makes you feel giddy inside. 

Stiles blinks and cups the back of your head with one large hand. He pulls you closer and places his lips back on yours. 

Kissing Stiles is nice, to put it simply. 

He tenderly kisses you with attention. His lips, smoother than you thought with the faint taste of cherry, glide over yours with precision. He doesn’t kiss you like he’s starving, but he kisses you like he’s appreciative. Like he���s as thankful for this moment as you are. 

You’ve always imagined yourself in this position. 

During late-night talks with your friends where you discussed crushes each of you would never get over, Stiles was always the first person on your mind. When you lay in your bed at night, sleep just out of reach, you’re only able to get closer to it with the thought of someone—with the thought of this. 

Truth be told, you didn’t expect him to kiss so well. His lips move with a bit of hesitation as if he’s still testing the waters, but his hold on you—large hands on the back of your head and the middle of your back— is secure. He keeps you in place, not like you’d want to be anywhere else. 

You move even closer until your knees knock together. You don’t know if it’s a reaction, but Stiles’ hand moves lower until his pinkie finger is against the small strip of skin left bare by your shirt and your jeans. His touch is warm, and it ignites something low in your belly, making you aware of a feeling you’re suddenly desperate to reach. 

You start to kiss him with a little more fervor, the change instantly picked up by Stiles who matches your energy. He guides both hands onto your back, sliding them lower until they rest at the top of your ass. He circles his grip around solely your hips and digs his fingertips into the meat of your skin. When he tugs you closer to him, there’s nowhere left for you to go. It’s only logical that you straddle his hips instead. 

You throw one leg over both of his, giving him unobstructed access to slide both of his hands down to your ass, the palms cupping the shape through the denim. You want to keep kissing him, but the small inhale of air through your nose isn’t doing much, so you pull away, instantly making it your goal to get as much air as you can as quickly as possible so you can go back to him. 

Stiles, though, wastes no time, his lips latching onto the skin around your jaw, kissing down your neck, reaching your collarbone. You’re incredibly thankful that you decided to wear a revealing shirt tonight, leaving the tops of your tits visible, open to Stiles’ lips. He presses kisses into the tops of your breasts, spurred on by the way you grip the back of his head with both of your hands. You throw your head back and breathe languidly, taking in slow gulps of air and letting them out even slower. 

The straps of your tee shirt fall down and then Stiles stills. You dip your gaze down to look at him, noticing how he’s staring straight at where he’s been pressing his lips. Your shirt still sits over your tits, but barely. If you relaxed and leaned forward a bit, the fabric would fall around your waist. 

Stiles looks up at you, his eyes wider than they have been all night as if all of it is suddenly dawning on him. “Are you sure? Do you want to stop?” 

You shake your head, hands starting to twitch at the back of Stiles’ head with anticipation. You run them up, fingers curling into his hair. Stiles’ eyes flutter shut and the image is breathtaking. It makes you wonder if he likes his hair pulled. Something you’ll have to try out eventually. 

“I’m sure,” you assure him, “but if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?” 

His small smile makes your chest a little tight, a deep breath just barely getting rid of the feeling. 

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” His head tilts and he looks fucking adorable. You want to see Stiles like this as often as you can, even outside of the capacity of fucking around. 

You shrug, hoping you look half as cute as he does. “It can go both ways, can’t it?” 

And you can’t resist him any longer, needing to have your lips back on his. It’s quickly becoming an addiction, kissing Stiles Stilinski. You kiss him with hunger this time, tasting the lingering vanilla Coke on his tongue. Your teeth clack a few times, the sound and feeling both unpleasant. So why do you keep letting it happen? 

It’s definitely because you’ll let Stiles do anything to you. That’s why you’re completely pliant even when he flips you over. 

It’s quick, and a little devoid of grace, but it does the job. 

You end up with you on your back, legs bent at the knees and spread open. The warmth of Stiles kneeling between your legs is comforting. It’s nice to feel crowded like this, but it doesn’t last for long. Stiles is kneeling between your legs for only long enough to kiss you once, and then he stands at the foot of your bed, staring down at you. 

You know you look a little disappointed, a pout probably on your lips, but when he leans down and reconnects your lips one more time, you’re smiling again. As he pulled away the tip of his nose brushed against yours as his eyes opened just enough to stare fondly at you. 

“I’m gonna take your pants off. Is that okay?” He asked you, hands already settling on the fly of your jeans. 

You nodded, your noses playing with each other with the movement. Stiles’ need for consent was driving you crazy in the best possible ways. It’s like you could feel arousal steadily gushing out of you, increasing tenfold when he stood up fully and positioned his hands at the waistband of your jeans. 

His eyes found yours once more, seemingly checking for any indication that you wanted to turn back. There was none deep in your body, and you hoped that your face hadn’t betrayed you and displayed any apprehension. To ease your worries, you gave Stiles a gentle smile, feet digging into the bed beneath you as you lifted your hips just a bit. 

Stiles took your answer in stride, slightly shaky hands peeling the button out of the hole, then sliding your zipper down until you saw the cherry-printed fabric of your panties. Stiles took a manual breath at the sight, hands halting as he just stared for a few seconds. He blinks twice, then hooks his fingers in your waistband and tugs your jeans over your ass, down your thighs and legs, and off around your ankles and feet, leaving you half-bare in front of your lifetime crush. 

You’ve always known that Stiles is one to stare, ogle even. When you were in the same fifth-grade class, he would spend lunch looking across the room at a certain redhead. When you constantly watched a horror movie together the summer before sixth grade, Stiles would shamelessly stare at the main character, even when she had one of the most brutal death scenes you’ve ever seen. 

Ogling is something Stiles is known for in your book. But having that directed towards you feels different. It makes you a little nervous, teenage jitters fluttering low in your belly, making you wring your fingers together and gnaw on your bottom lip. 

Stiles, realizing that he’s staring for once, takes a breath, his hands hovering at your hips before it reoccurs to him that he’s allowed to touch you in a moment like this. You’ve permitted him. 

His hands shake as they approach your hips, but they steady when warm flesh meets warm flesh. 

“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, voice soft and earnest. The moment is tender, it’s vulnerable, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable. 

“I’m not even naked yet.” It’s your attempt at a light joke to ease the heavy tension that’s suddenly painted itself on the walls of your room, surrounding both of you, trapping you in the very thing you’ve wanted since you were young. But having it makes you uneasy, the uncharted territory suddenly a whole lot scarier up close. 

For once, Stiles doesn’t take the bait. He doesn’t crack a joke back, he doesn’t make you double over in laughter with his sarcasm. His amber eyes look at you, his pink lips curl up into a smile, and he tells you, “You don’t have to be naked to be pretty. You’re beautiful.” 

And you’re sure that your friends will tell you that it’s a little cheesy when you tell them every single detail of this moment, but you don’t care about that right now. Right now, your heart is soaring in your chest and your entire body is alight and you need Stiles Stilinski in ways you didn’t even think were possible. 

Your breath hitches. You lick your lips. 

“Stiles,” your voice is softer than you intended, it makes the moment even more tender. His eyebrows lift and you continue. “I need you to touch me. Please.” 

He wants to, you can tell he wants to. But something is holding him back and you think you know what it is. 

“I can teach you how. I can tell you what I like.” Not like you know much, either. Only things you’ve learned from your own explorations. 

He nods, eager, and his hands find the hem of your shirt. “I wanna all of you. Is that okay?” 

Again with the consent. It makes your vision swirl for a second, two blinks bringing Stiles back in focus as you nod and sit up completely, arms over your head so Stiles can take the top off. 

Your bra and panties are the only garments left, and you look down at your frame, a surge of confidence overtaking you as you reach behind you and unclip your bra. 

It falls and the sound Stiles makes would be comical if it weren’t for the situation. Actually, it still is comical, you just stifle your laugh for his own sake. 

His pretty eyes are having some serious tunnel vision, eye line straight at your tits. You sit a little straighter, puffing your chest out just enough to make you question if drool is starting to pool at the corner of Stiles’ lips. 

You know that this is the first pair of tits Stiles has seen in person and the revelation makes you even more proud of the set you sport. 

You eye Stiles’ frame, suddenly all too aware of the stark contrast in clothing. 

You squint at him accusatively. “Are you gonna even the playing field?” 

He blinks at you dumbly once, twice, and then he looks down at his dusty blue shirt. “Oh!” 

He rushes to throw his flannel off and does the same with his shirt off, barely even giving you enough time to do some admiring of your own before his hands fumble with the buckle and zipper of his cargo pants, his legs were suddenly useless as he awkwardly stumbles out of his pants. When he stands up straight, there’s a proud smile on his face that makes you giggle just a little, and just that one moment eases any tension or nerves you are feeling. 

Because this is Stiles. Your Stiles. The kid with the hangout house who would always invite you over after school for movie marathons. The kid who would quickly let you copy his homework before the teacher got to you. The kid who would always wave to you in the hallways, even when your cliques were completely separate and you hadn’t properly spoken for months. 

And now he’s watching you climb further up your bed, following after you, a hungry gaze in his eyes as he trails his eyes over your body from head to toe. 

His hands find your hips once more, his touch light as he trails it down. His fingertips graze over the tops of your thighs, then they find your inner thighs. His touch makes your legs part more, some reference to the Red Sea hidden in there deep beneath all of your all-encompassing hormones. 

Stiles watches between your legs while he brings two fingers to your center. They trail down, separating your lips, letting the tips of his fingers add pressure that already has you wanting more. You gasp, just a small sound that’s accidental, and Stiles licks his lips, a determined look in his eyes. 

It’s a sudden movement when he pulls your panties down and off, tossing them at the foot of the bed where the rest of your clothes sit. There’s not even a moment for you to even imagine being insecure or uncomfortable with your bare skin. Stiles is already positioning his hand at your bare cunt, fingertips just millimeters away from connecting with your skin. 

He wants to act, you can see it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he waits, he hovers, and he glances up at you. “I … I don’t,” he takes a second to breathe, and you let him finish. “What do I do?.” 

There’s just the smallest amount of shame hidden beneath his words, but you don’t let it exist much longer when you soften your eyes. 

You sit up, reaching out for him. “Stiles,” his eyes lift to connect with yours, the furrow between his eyebrows starting to relax. “There’s nothing to worry about. Okay? I want you, like really bad, if you can’t tell.” There’s just enough amusement in your tone to ease the tension, Stiles’ lips turning up into a satisfied smile. 

He leans forward, presses his lips to yours once, and then slides his middle finger into you, slow and steady, met with just enough resistance to showcase your inexperience. His pace is slow, almost tortuous as Stiles slides the single finger in and out. 

The depth that his slender finger reaches is enough to have you begging for more. You lift your hips from the bed and push your pelvis out toward his hand, with a plea for another digit leaving your lips. 

Stiles easily complies, sliding his ring finger in to join his middle. The stretch burns for a second, but you’re fucking dripping at this point, and the haze in your mind combined with the lubrication prevents any possible discomfort. Instead, you’re focused on directing Stiles, directions filling the air along with your moans. 

He listens easily, something you’re more than thankful for, especially whenever his fingertips brush against a spot that sends a tingle up your spine, and he’s finding the spot to abuse over and over again as soon as you tell him where it is. 

When your eyes peel away from the ceiling, and you’re able to keep them open enough, you connect with a set of warm brown that lights your body. Stiles’ eyes are so attentive. You don’t think he’s been looking anywhere but at your face this entire time, despite your sheer nudeness. His lips are parted, still glistening with your gloss and saliva. His eyes are wide, never straying from you, eyebrows raised just enough to give the look of innocence. 

But nothing is innocent about the way his free hand is palming his dick through his briefs. 

Your eyes find the tent accidentally, a blink that sends your gaze downward for just enough time for you to pick up on the bulge beneath checkered boxer briefs. You can’t make out the size from here, especially not with the slight blur in your vision, your eyesight unsteady even as you try to blink it away. 

You start to speak, to ask Stiles for what you really want, when he does, too. 

“I wanna feel you.” 

“I wanna taste you.” 

Both of you sit still, Stiles’ fingers stopping, too. He stares at you as if he’s shocked that the words came from his mouth, and there are three blinks shared from each of you before your hips move again, chasing a high you had briefly forgotten about. 

“Can we do that next time?” The words leave your mouth surrounded by gasps, little breaths that prove how worked up you already are. 

“N…Next time?” His stutter is cute, a little flattering, and you’d spend more time thinking about it if you weren’t on the cusp of an orgasm. Stiles has started moving his fingers again, pace just a little faster, fingers starting to curl at an angle that has your hands fisting the sheets. 

You nod, muscles starting to tense. “Yeah. Next time. Just need you so bad right now, Stiles.” 

“Yeah.” He nods, stares at you, and then nods once more. “Okay. Yeah.” You’re close, so very close, and then Stiles—overeager, enthusiastic, about to blow his pants Stiles—pulls his fingers out.

The noise that spills past your lips is completely accidental, almost guttural. It’s deep, and comes from the part of you that’s so obviously frustrated (the part of you that’s purely hormones and no logic). Stiles looks startled for a second, a string of curses coming past his pink lips as he fumbles off the bed and towards his pants. 

“Shit. Were you about to cum? I’m sorry, fuck, that’s totally my bad.” He’s speaking to you, but his eyes are watching his hands which ransack his pockets. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, the thud of jeans and a leather wallet hitting the floor alerting you. 

“What is it?” Your tone is a little more bitter than intended, but you’re disastrously horny and Stiles is under too much duress to notice. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he tells you, voice wobbling like it’s the worst news in the world. Like he’s telling you about the impending doom that’ll fall onto this plane of existence. His face is the most serious you’ve ever seen, and it’s a look you don’t really like on Stiles’ usually happy-go-lucky face. 

You don’t bother replying as you dig your hand under the pillow, ignoring how Stiles stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. 

It’s not until you whip out the two condoms you have, pinched between your middle and pointer finger like you’ve seen in countless movies, that Stiles’ face relaxes. 

“I came prepared.” You’re proud when you say it, happy that your anxiety-ridden over planning paid off in the end. 

Stiles looks relieved, too, quickly resuming his previous spot with one of his hands reaching out towards the aluminum packet between your fingers, except this time without his boxers. 

You try not to stare, truly, but it’s hard to keep your eyes from tilting down to look at his hard dick between you both. You're trying to calculate the length-to-girth ratio, making educated guesses on just how much pain and how much pleasure you’ll be in, but you’re just too busy taking it all in. 

Looking at the thick happy trail that leads down to the patch of pubic hair resting above his dick. His abdomen is tight, something you’ve known from the times he’s changed in front of you, too busy ranting about Coach Finstock to notice the way you’d stared at him. Now, you don’t care if he notices. Because Stiles is fucking hot, even more so in his position. 

His eyebrows politely furrow when you pull the aluminum out of his reach, his lips starting to form a question that you already started to answer. 

“Let me put it on. Please?” 

Stiles short circuits, you can see it with the way he dumbly blinks at you. It takes some prompting from you—a simple raise of your eyebrows—for him to nod, retracting his hand and sitting back on his heels.

“Go right ahead,” he confirms, his hands resting on his thighs. 

 You rip the packet open and pull the condom out, throwing the aluminum in the general direction of your nightstand, leaving it there for you to deal with afterward. Placing your fingers over the condom in a mimicking shape, you press it onto the tip of Stiles’ dick, instantly cataloging the way it’s just barely flushed the same color of his lips with a bead of nearly translucent pre cum drooling off to the side. 

The pre smears over his skin as you glide the condom down, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of Stiles’ dick in your hand as you go down. You don’t see it, not when your eyes are staring intently at the cock in front of you, but Stiles’ eyes have fluttered closed above you. His lips have parted, his nostrils flaring just a bit with the exhale he lets out. He’s getting off to you putting a condom on him, and you only catch the tail end of it when you throw a curious glance up at him once the condom is seated completely over him. 

“Good?” 

He nods, opening his eyes to stare down at you. “Fucking great.”

You lay back, spread your legs, and let Stiles back in. 

He hovers, asks you if you’re okay, and as soon as you nod, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. 

When your friends ask you about it later, when they press you for details and inevitably come to the question that everyone wonders about, you’ll tell them that it hurt. Because it did. More uncomfortable than anything, a feeling that you had to breathe through. Luckily, Stiles was there coaching you through it. 

Demonstrating breaths that he repeated with you, gently nodding even when his face screwed up. You could see the way he was holding himself back, the veins in his arms prominent as he held your hip with one hand, the other pressed into the pillow beneath your head. 

“Keep going?” he eventually asked you. Excitement clearly flooded his eyes when you nodded. 

He gave you slow thrusts, deep and meticulous as if he were terrified of hurting you, and he was. He kept glancing from the sight of where the two of you were connected up to your eyes, watching attentively for any sign that you wanted to stop. 

But it never came. After the initial discomfort, you hooked a leg over Stiles’ back. It’s like a switch flipped, telling you that you needed as much Stiles as you could get. He was in you, yes, and he had his hands over your body, but it wasn’t enough. 

Stiles could give you his all and it still would never be too much. 

“More?” 

You nodded. “More, please.”

Stiles was eager to obey your request. He didn’t give it his all, you could still feel the restraint in each of his thrusts, but he gave you more. He drove into you with a little more power, holding his punches towards the end. The drag-out happened faster, as did the slide-in. 

It was a steady pace, rhythmic enough to provide stimulation. You won’t cum from just this, it’s obvious to you, but this is good. It puts a tickle in your lower belly. One that flutters around your insides, twisting them every so often. 

You feel so good, euphoric, even. At this moment, you understand the claims of post-sex glow. How could you not glow after this? It’s like Stiles is a fucking natural. There are a few moments where he’s a little off, but he picks up where he left off. He seems confident, and undoubting of his abilities, and it only makes everything better. 

Stiles groans and you’re brought back. You stare up at him, taking in as much as you can. The freckles and moles dotting his face and shoulders, the slight sunburn he has over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, how his hair falls over his forehead, a few strands sticking to his pale skin. 

He’s so pretty. You don’t know how you ever thought you would have gotten over him. After this, you don’t think you ever will get over him. 

He leans down and knocks his forehead against yours. 

“You feel so good,” he admits. He sounds so honest and it turns you on. 

You curl your fingers in Stiles’ hair, pulling only a bit, but the reaction is still there. The sound he makes resembles a whine. It’s addicting. You want to hear it again. 

So you pull Stiles further down and suck on his jaw, combining it with another gentle pull of his hair. He doesn’t make the same sound, not immediately. At first, he moans, clean and simple, and then your cunt flutters around him and he whines again. 

It’s such a pretty sound. 

He starts to fuck into you messily, lacking any of the precision from before. His thrusts become more shallow, and you watch his features relax. 

“Are you close, Stiles?” you ask him, although you think you know the answer. 

He nods. “Yes. Yeah, ‘m so fucking close.” 

He takes his hand off of your thigh and searches. You don’t realize what for until he finds your hand. More fumbling and then your fingers are interlocked. Stiles presses your hand back into the pillow, the secure weight of his own hand keeping it there, and then he presses his lips to yours. 

He kisses you for a second, and you’re able to reciprocate for the sole moment. But you’re close, too. You can barely reciprocate when you’re as focused on your own orgasm, everything else pressed to the back of your mind. 

You use your free hand to tweak your clit, speeding your pace up when you realize that Stiles is just a few thrusts short of cumming. 

When he does cum—shooting into the condom with a final thrust, his forehead resting on your sternum as his grip on your hand tightens—you’re not far behind. Stiles weakly thrusts into you a few times and it’s during the second one that your muscles seize, an orgasm unlike anything else you’ve ever felt taking over your body, your middle finger absentmindedly rubbing against your clit as you let the orgasm wash over you. 

It takes a minute for both of you to come down. Stiles stays hovered over your body, his forearm keeping him up as he relaxes the lower half of his body onto yours. A couple of minutes pass before he even makes an attempt to move, and even when he does, he keeps your hands interlocked. 

He speaks first. “Please tell me that was as good for you as it was for me.”

You nod, unable to do anything other than blink up at the ceiling for a second. Eventually, you tell him, “Yeah.”

It’s not much, which Stiles is quick to comment on. “Are you sure? You don’t sound sure.”

“‘m just a little out of it right now, Stiles.” When you turn your head to look at him, he’s smiling like he’s proud of himself. You scoff, weakly kicking his shin. “Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Sorry. I’m just definitely gonna be thinking about this for a while.”

[endereies]

FEEL BETTER YET? - MS

No Nut November - Day 7

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When you are on your period, Matt is always there to look after you

Every month you endured pain like no other, your abdomen puncturing you from the inside out. It was only 3am but it felt like you had been up for hours, tossing and turning to find any relief. Painkillers failed to aid you and if you moved too much, spurts of nausea floated around your body.

The one thing you were concerned about was not staining your boyfriend’s sheets underneath you. You had already changed a few times in the night, at that point it was better to stay there. The entirety of your body was pushed against the radiator, locating any lingering warmth you could without having to manually do it yourself.

It was agonising, the fact this had to happen at all to you made emotions sky rocket. The trembles of your body matched the way your breathing shuddered when your stomach clenched.

Just as another tear fell, the light above you flickered on.

“Baby? Fuck…are you okay?” Matt was by your side in an instant, his touch giving you the warm you desperately were trying to clutch onto. He was quietly analysing you and the scene in front of him as his concern increased. Each time you wanted to speak smoothly, the sharp pains constructed you. It just made you whimper in pain and it broke Matt’s heart.

He was used to you having rough periods, but this was on another level. You could breathe. You couldn’t think clearly, your mind fogged with the sheer agony within.

“Why aren’t you in bed baby, you could’ve woken me…you know that…” His tone was gentle and made you sob a few more tears before any words left.

“I- I didn’t want to bloody your sheets..or uh bother you…” You looked away once you saw his face twist into one almost filled with guilt. Independency was idolised by you, he saw it in everything you did. But he wanted to take care of you, this was the small sliver he had and he was going to use that.

“I’ll be back, okay? Just two seconds my love.” Just as quickly as he spoke, he left. The light above remained on, a signal he was still there. Rustling was heard in the distance but once the pain surged it was hard to focus on. Everything was too much. Towels bunched up around you, trying to protect you from the pain, no matter how much it didn’t work.

The sharp pains in your stomach had only gotten worse, even after medication. Every time that Matt crossed your mind it only made you feel so needy, clingy. Like a burden.

Matt returned quickly with his hands full on certain products you couldn’t quite make out. “So first off, I got the chocolates from the fridge I saved for you, and some of those sweets you like to chew…” The packets were held up as he showed them off to you. “I got some of the stronger medications for if you needed to top off with them, uh, I grabbed your socks too and just made a hot water bottle for you. I know last time was a little too hot, so I put some cold water into it as well. “

His gaze finally met your eyes, staring at the pile with tears forming. It was obvious you weren't blinking so that you didn't cry. You knew if you had tried to speak, your emotions would quickly be revealed, if they weren't already by your expression. Your lips switched into a small smile, full of gratitude towards him.

“I- Thank you…really”

“Anytime, I mean that. I just want to be here for you, no matter what.” You let out a small chuckle, allowing yourself to finally give into his efforts to take care of you, you needed it in the moment. Not that you’d admit that to him. He quickly placed the items on your his bed before returning to your side.

One arm reached under your knees while the other supported your back as he pulled you to his chest. It was warm and it was safe. You almost forgot about the pain. Almost.

He lowered you onto the mattress on your side of the bed before handing you the hot water bottle, along side your medication and a drink. He wanted to look after you, not overwhelm you. Matt pulled back from you, climbing under the duvet alongside you.

“I don’t want you to worry about the sheets or bothering me, just worry about yourself. You’re my priority and I never wanting you to think that ill ignore your pain. Never ever will I do that to you sweetheart.” His voice was barely heard over my breathing and a part of you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t.

Subconsciously your body drew close towards him, the heat of the bottle inching closer to his skin until your head lay on his shoulder. “Feel better yet?” You nodded slightly. The pain had subsided, the bottle and his words warming the aches away.

“I love you, you know that right?” A soft smile covered his lips, placing a light kiss on your head.

“I love you too..”

This was what you needed.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[anothertimdrakestan]

Batboys Toxic Traits Headcanons

because no one is perfect, i wanted to get a little dirty with it and imagine what the boys are like when they're a little... too obsessed with you.

tw for romanticizing possessive, obsessive, jealous, aggressive actions haha xoxo

Jason Todd

- scary dog privileges wherever you go with jace, but he is ALL bite with one and only one warning bark.

- when a hand that isn't his brushes your thigh in a club, fingers get broken. when a cat caller thinks his compliment just has to be said to you, he most likely won't be able to speak again for weeks. And god forbid any villain try to use you as bait for jason, they've all learned if they value their life to never touch you. He's all for justice not vengeance until anyone tries to mess with you, then those words always get mixed up in his head.

- sometimes you cant even complain about people, they end up getting randomly harassed by a certain someone until they just move town

- jason is adamant as long as he's alive there won't be a problem of yours he can't solve with a little violence

- your biggest problem is that he struggles to let you have guy friends, obviously the ones he knows especially fellow heroes are more than fine, but he's been known to burst blood vessels when he sees you close and person with men he's never met

- he's proud of it too: "let another man try and touch y/n, it's been a slow night for me." or "i just don't get why you need him as a friend when you have me, myself, and i"

Tim Drake

- tim gets... obsessive.

- he tends to fall hard but with you he brought the house down with him

- before you were officially his he had hacked every security camera in the city to have eyes on you at any given moment

- both for your safety and his own maniacal flirting strategy: you admire shoes but frown at the price tag? tim's buying you the matching bag to go with the shoes he bought the second you looked at them.

- before you knew how insanely in love with you he was, you truly thought he was a mind reader

- well he kind of was, seeing as he scrolled through your search history every night to know which talking points to bring up with you

- once you finally fell for him and set some stronger boundaries he still occasionally found himself double checking your location when you weren't by his side, or lazily purchasing every item on your pinterest boards, he just can't help but dote on you

Damian Wayne

- damian doesn't really get close to people, but as always you were his exception

- however, this means his list of people to hang out with is extremely short, and he saw no problem in wanting to be around you wherever you went whenever he could

- like a kind of tall, dark, and brooding puppy, he quietly followed you everywhere, and when you strictly told him he couldn't follow along, you always noticed a perched shadow just a few building away

- eventually you got used to rolling over to damian coolly watching you sleep or patiently waiting to pick you up from your classes/job, happy just to walk you to your car

- just like jason, damian had a brutal and heartless style of problem-solving when it came to anyone giving you trouble

- too often you found yourself standing in between his rage a massive mistake whether it was nearly assaulting a friend of yours who tried to ask you out or threatening to buy out your entire workplace when you didn't get the promotion you wanted

- forever cooling his rage was worth having his adoration though, and you were happy to have your overbearing shadow follow you throughout your days

Dick Grayson

- for such a bubbly leader, dick often struggled with communication

- always used to bearing his problems alone youd spent too many nights tracking down your own boyfriend only to beg him to tell you what's wrong

- he never understood that you didn't always want to solve his problems, but hold his sadness or hurt with him

- it was the worst when he was upset with you, whether it was jealously or insecurity that crept into his mind

- he'd take off in a rush hoping you wouldn't notice but you always did, either hunting him down or simply waiting with open arms for him to come home

- it would take years to teach your traveling-circus-raised boyfriend that you weren't going anywhere, ever.

- but, this made for many heartfelt nights where he held you and promised you the world, as if you'd opened him up in a way no one else could, pulling forward the most magical and loving side of your sweet boy

[izvmimi]

cw: breakup mention. alcohol use. hurt/comfort.

When Katsuki shows up to the exact location you provided him, just minutes after you’d called him out of the blue at 3 am, not even the excuse of being under the influence available to you given the three pathetic sips you’ve had of the can of beer in your right hand, you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this far.

You hadn’t expected him to pick up, and you hadn’t intended on leaving a message. Not from a number he couldn’t possibly know given you’d changed it about two years ago, and definitely not from you, not after the way you’d severed ties with him abruptly and mercilessly. 

In his opinion.

… Okay, perhaps yours, too.

You had expected the half-groggy, half-livid way he’d answered, the hothead in him not immune to a call that would annoy literally anyone with a modicum of sense, but you hadn’t expected his voice to so immediately soften at the sound of yours, to recognize you so readily even.

And now watching him touch down from the sky to where you sit on a park bench, just several feet away from a 24 hour convenience store, you realize you’re not sure what to say.

Still, you’re happy to see him. Enough so, that for a moment, you blink back tears in your eyes, precluding you from seeing how uncharacteristically gentle his red ones are. 

He tries to play it cool, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark gray sweatpants, a slight hunch in his back accentuated by the snug fit of a black hoodie. A skull insignia covers the front, and you wonder if he’ll ever grow up. 

That was one of your points of contention when you were once an item. Growing up. 

“Hey.”

Katsuki is careful; reticent in his speech as he moves towards you, and you can see him ponder before he takes a seat by your side. You clutch the can of beer in your hand a little tighter, resting your arm upon the knees you’ve folded and raised onto the seat of the park bench. His posture is still closed, hands in his pockets, and he stares straight ahead. He lets out a sigh.

“Why’d you call? Get dumped or something?”

You scoff as you say, “yes.”

Katsuki did not actually expect you to say that and turns to look at you, which has you amused, if only for a second. You’re not drunk, but you sure are acting it, you think, but perhaps madness from your bout of depression is really settling in.

“Months ago, though,” you add. You take another sip of your beer, and he watches you wince. He knows you’re not actually a fan of it at all, and plus there’s nothing intelligent or safe about drinking in the middle of the night without a companion, without a definite way home. 

He remembers he actually doesn't know where your home is these days.

“Why did you need to see me?” he asks firmly now, his eyes still focused on the can because he’s afraid of looking at your face and letting old love resurface.

You smile and look at him, resting your head on your knees.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” you admit.

“You called.”

In another world, he’d then roll his eyes at you, but tonight he looks at you steadily and seriously. Perhaps he's the one who has matured, and you haven’t. He remains your longtime crush and your longtime crutch, even now, as you feel yourself lose your grip on sanity, embracing madness, regardless of how transient it might be.

It’s quiet for a few more moments, save for the rustling of leaves as the winds of the witching hour pick up between you, and you let out a soft sigh, realizing he won’t say anything else to fill the silence. Letting your feet fall flat to the ground, you shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep and I thought of you,” you admit. 

Katsuki’s eyes slide away from you quickly, his fingers curling around the edge of the seat at his sides, as if bracing himself.

“It’s been years,” he reminds you. You nod, without looking at him.

“My heart remembers.”

It’s cheesy and he doesn’t mock you for it. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I see.”

You’re suddenly embarrassed, face warmed from toes to nose. He sees. What does he see? That you’re pathetic? That you’re needy? That perhaps you were wrong all these years and even if he’s flown back to see you, you’re the one crawling back to him? 

You remain in disquiet now, your arms wrapping around yourself for support. You can hear it now -  If you wanted someone to pat your ass, should have called damn Deku or Kirishima. I’m not a goddamn booty call. You lost your chance with me ages ago. Don’t fucking call me again.

Instead, he takes the can of beer you’ve set beside you and takes a sip first, then downs it as you watch. Just as soon as he’s done, he crushes the can and throws it into the nearest recycling bin. 

He doesn't miss.

“You’re not an alcoholic. No use pretending to drown your sorrows,” he says. “Either talk about them or don’t. I’m already up anyway.”

It’s not meant to be a joke or a jab, just a statement. 

You’re surprised for a moment but an unwitting smile comes to your lips.

“Are you sure you want to hear me complain in the middle of the night? I have a lot to say.”

Katsuki gives you a look, a raised eyebrow reminding you not to ask any more silly questions, and it almost makes you laugh.

As if you intend to be considerate now of all times.

“Well, it all began with the day I was born…”

He lets out the softest of groans and lets his head hang back in a dramatic fashion, arms still crossed over his chest, and legs spread. This time your laugh is loud.

It’s unfair and unreasonable that he still makes you laugh without trying.

And yet he does anyway, and he listens to you speak until the sun comes up.

[carlplsrailme]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

carl grimes x fem!reader

cw: handjob, thongs, slight mean!dom!reader and sub!carl

summary: shopping for clothes should be simple, even now in the apocalypse. but when you can only find a thong in this heat you're forced to wear it, and when carl notices your straps wrapping at your waist, he about dies.

request: Carl and reader going on a run for clothes, and the only thing the reader can find that fits her is a thong, Carl can't stop thinking about it, and when he sees the waist hands peeking from her shorts while they're with the others, he gets hard and has to leave early but reader knows why and follows him;)

Maybe the Reader is more dominant in this one? :3

"this is bullshit" you huff, nail gliding on fabric after fabric, trying to find at least one item that would fit you.

"just keep looking...you'll find something soon" carl hollers from across the store, you bit your lip to keep back your remarks about how it's easy for him to say with him finding everything immediately. he didn't have to sort through thousands of crop tops to not even find a full-length shirt.

wiping the sweat off your forehead as the dry heat sinks into your open pores, looking down at the pile of shirts and dust you start to consider that crop top.

but you don't need a crop top. you need underwear, embarrassingly enough.

yeah, some shirts would be fine. but switching through 2 pairs of panties in this summer isn't an option anymore

you sign and kneel back down in front of another box, tossing mix-match socks behind your shoulder before finally seeing some thin fabric.

you freeze before reaching down, one finger holding it up as you examine the black thong

it's all they had. it's all you can get.

"found something?" shit.

"uh..yeah" you ball the little number in your palms before whipping your head back and forth looking for your bag to shove it in

"woah, what's that?" you hear him say in almost a chuckle, for the first time this summer you feel your blood run cold as you stare into the box of clothing wondering what to say

"clothes. remember?" you try and say naturally to keep it together. it's not like he'd care, it's mostly you that would care with how sexual thongs are

"well...alright. let's get going, my dads gonna freak if we take any longer" he rambles and you reach over to drop the panties in your bag when you assumed he looked away

"oh. woah"

you clench your fist tight as you know there's no getting out of this.

"was that...a thong?" carl asks, flustered

"yeah, it was. it's the only one they had." you whisper slightly while grabbing your bag and standing

he stared wide-eyed at you like he's picturing the most lewd things imaginable

you check him with your shoulder for him to snap out and with him stumbling to catch up with you. as you sped walked to the car all you could think about was just going home.

okay, this is more comfortable than you imagined.

you rest a hand on your hip as everyone packs up, they all just got here and seem to be already dying from the heat. you internally smile about how your shorts fit you today, looks aren't everything in the apocalypse but dammit wearing a thong makes you feel like it is.

anyway, the whole group is out today. and lucky carl got to test drive his way here so you know what that means. cocky. cocky. cocky.

it won't stop talking about how he was soo smooth and how even rick gave him the go-ahead to drive himself home -I think he was just as sick of hearing him brag-

as everyone started moving he kept talking to you, giving you pointers and tips because he's the all-knowing of course.

you let him have his fun but with almost an hour in you're sick of it now. you even noticed rosita side-eyeing you with a look of "really? he's still going?"

but once we made it to our location he seems to quite a bit, with boxes being moved to cars and cans being thrown into backseats we were finishing up with the first stop

maggie called out to you, pointing to a box in the corner that was seemingly forgotten, and asked if you could get it. you nodded and walked over to it just to hear footsteps following

"oh! y/n-" he goes off again and you tune out, bending over to grab it as you lift the heavyweight

you felt off and that's when you realized it was because he stopped talking. you almost spun around with a cocked brow just to see him staring at your lower stomach with the redess face you've ever seen

you almost smirk while looking down to see the hands of your thong wrapping around your waist

"carl, get over yourself" you mumbled while rolling your eyes, walking past him. with your hips swaying you smiled

sliding the box into carls truck bed you hop into the car to see him very carefully sitting down

"the fucks wrong with you?" with his hands on his lap you immediately knew the problem. good news is, you also knew how to solve it.

"seriously? from pantie straps?" you almost laugh at him, watching as he slightly squirmed from trying to hide his boner

"you can't make fun of me! do you know how hard it is for me when these summers roll around, now you're wearing thongs!" he babbles but you just reach over and palm him through his jeans, he groans out and you noticed the other cars have already left to the next location.

"fuck, we need to make this quick" you mumble before pulling him free, his cock almost red from being teased and strained so much just from his dirty mind.

his red tip oozed pre-cum as veins bulged out, you slide your thumb on his tip getting a jolt from him

"always the sensitive one" you murmured before stroking his cock, his eyes were screwed shut as your wrist works wonders

"do you know how fucking annoying you were today? tips? you think I need tips from someone who learned to drive a week ago? ya'know, I was planning to go off on you after you came into the car...looks like you had other things to worry about." your hand went faster, he mercifully bucked his hips into your hand as he whimpered and groaned

"getting worked up over some panties." you say almost through your teeth, he cries out sorrys and you feel a grin touch your lips

with one final groan, he came all over your hand, you sighed and wiped them off with a napkin nearby as you look ahead at the vacant road.

his breathing is still heavy as he tries to put himself back into his pants with shaking hands, he looked to you and you just glared at him

"wanna show me how great you can drive? or am I gonna have to blow you next?"

an: HEYYYYY YOU GUYS! I missed you so much <3 I saw this request and it was too good not to do! I'm so sorry I dip in and out, If I'm gone for like 3 months after this I'm so sorry :( I'm trying to put school first and hope you can understand <3 I love you guys so much and I hope you enjoyed this <3 mwah!

[fandom-go-round]

Personal Time: Astarion x Reader x Halsin

Did I romance either of these two? No I didn't. Is that going to stop me? God I wish it would

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Dom/Sub (Astarion Topping), Leashes, Light Humiliation, Size Kink, Sex Outdoors, Overstimulation, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Threesome, Mild Pain Kink, Established Relationship, Poly Relationship (Astarion x Reader x Halsin), Druid Tav

            You did everything correctly, thank you very much. You behaved yourself on the road, making sure to not threaten anyone, even the guy who tried to rip you off. You kept your mouth shut when you ended up covered in blood and guts. Today had not been your day, damn it but you were going to make something of it. Which meant that you were going to get off of course.

            Dinner passed without incident and after helping to clean up, you told everyone you’d be going to wash up. No one tried to stop you (even as they teased you about being alone) and you made your way to the river, skin itching. The plan was to clean up quickly and then take your time. It’s why you picked a more secluded site from camp, far enough away that no one would run into you.

            You sped through your bath routine, making sure to get all the blood off. You wanted to spend more time doing and less time thinking. The sun was just beginning to set, the grass still warm in a sunspot away from the shore. You laid out your blanket, placing your small bag of personal items onto the ground. You took a moment to just breath, letting the tension roll out.

            Secluded location inside the trees? Check. Oil and toys? Check. Far enough away you might be able to make a little noise? Check. You did one last scan of the tree line to make sure no one was behind you and got to work.

            Foreplay was skipped to get off quicker, although you did take some time to pinch your nipples and move lower. You grabbed your vial of oil, rubbing it between your fingers before laying back. Thank the gods you grabbed a pillow. It didn’t take you long to start feeling hot. You circled a few times, your other hand reaching down to play with yourself. The gentle stretch of your finger turned into slick movement after a few strokes. You grunted and added another finger, moving your other hand to better support you. You had brought more toys to make it fun but didn’t want to rush. Tonight, you wanted this to take a while.

            You let out a sigh as you pushed a third finger into yourself, not feeling as much of the burn. You stopped moving, enjoying the feeling of being full before starting to pump. You opened your legs wider without thinking, head leaning back. The change in angle helped so you heard the moment someone gasped.

            “Darling!” Shit. Your eyes snapped open at the voice and you swallowed hard. Astarion’s face was amused, the shock on his face half true. You groaned, giving a huff as you slowed your fingers. His eyes flickered down to your hand, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stepped into the clearing, dying sunlight giving him a soft glow.

            “Looking for a show?” You tried your best to come off coy but you were too breathless. There was a part of you that felt embarrassed by Astarion catching you and the other part figured this was his own fault. He went looking for you and that was on him. He smirked at your voice, taking your words as an invitation to move forward. You watched him take you in, red eyes bright and getting darker. He hummed and you began to fuck yourself faster.

            “I was wondering what you were doing, yes. Wanted some alone time?” His voice had taken a softer tone, even if the words sounded mocking to the untrained ear. You gave him a smile and half shrug, angling your legs better as he took a peek. Astarion gave you a smirk, hand drifting down to rub himself through his pants.

            “Today sucked and I figured this would make it better.” He took in your face as you spoke, eyebrows furrowing a bit. Affection bubbled up, your eyes soft as you gazed at him. The two of you had been working through Astarion’s hesitations with sex and both of you felt confident in approaching each other.

            “…would you like some help? Or shall I leave you to it?”  You smiled at his question, sitting up so you could wave him over fully. Astarion pulled his shirt off, giving you a wink as he began to strip. You gave an apperceive groan, leaning back on one hand and pulling your fingers free. You wiped them on a cloth, making sure that your hand wasn’t sticky. He tracked the movement, sighing and then gracefully kneeling between your legs.

            “I would love it if you helped.” You wrapped an arm around his neck, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He gave a slight smile at your gentleness, kissing your check back.

            “And you didn’t think to invite me? Just plain rude.” His words were teasing against your skin, lips trailing over your shoulders and down your chest. He nipped at your skin until you shivered, shifting so it was easier for him to reach. You gave a soft moan, your other hand going to tangle into his hair.

            “Honestly? I just figured this would make things more efficient.” He laughed around a nipple, giving a hard suck. You rocked your hips towards him, Astarion grinding his cock against you. He pulled back to give you a wicked smirk, fangs peeking out from behind his lips.

            “Oh dear, now I’m really going to have to take you apart.” He didn’t give you any time to respond, kissing you hard and lining himself up against your entrance. His tongue brushed against yours and you groaned into his mouth as he pushed his cock into you.

            He was bigger than your fingers, the burn of the stretch making you tingle. Astarion didn’t give you time to adjust, rocking into you. He didn’t pull out, only pushed deeper and you whimpered. His hips were hard against your own and it took a couple seconds to realize he was pinning you down.

            “Astarion.” You called him name, trying to sound scolding but coming out whinier. He laughed, nipping at your neck as he pulled you closer. You were half in his lap now, legs wide open and hitched over his. Your lover began to move faster, fangs sinking into your skin as you exposed your neck.

            He didn’t drink deeply, moaning lowly and rolling his hips. You felt bolts of pleasure move up your spine, orgasm so close and yet so far. When he pulled his fangs out you squeezed around him hard, the vampire groaning. One of his hands came up to tease your chest, flicking and pinching the skin.

            “Aren’t you a little eager? I thought you were going to draw this out?” You made a surprised sound, pulling back to look at his face. He smirked and stopped moving, buried deep inside of you. He plucked your bag off the forest floor, ignoring how you squirmed against him. Astarion pulled out a dildo, chuckling as he began to go through the bag. You’re not embarrassed; you’ve been together long enough you know his teasing is lighthearted. There is a bit of heat on your face as he pulled out another, larger dildo and you see the understanding in his eyes.

            “I was going to but now I have help.” He threw his head back and laughed at your comment, the sound breathless and mocking. You leaned forward and began kissing down his chest, stopping to pay attention at his nipples. Long fingers wrapped around your throat and you gasped, pushing into his hand.

            “Oh sweetness.” Astarion cooed at you, placing your bag back on the ground and pushing you to lay back. “I am going to have you here all night. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be stretched out all night?” You gave him a wicked smile in return, wrapping your legs around his waist. He snarled and finally moved again, face focused on where he’s pushing into you.

            The dirty talk started to become white noise the closer you got to cumming. Astarion’s hand was still wrapped around your neck, holding but not squeezing. That made your brain fuzzy on a good day but when he reached down to rub you just right? You’re only half aware you’re cumming, cutting yourself off halfway through a satisfied moan. Astarion’s eyes locked on your face, a softness in his features that only happens now, after the two of you have confessed.

            “Gorgeous.” His words are breathless and you almost lose them in the hazy of pleasure. Instead, you gave him a smile, groaning as he pulled out of you. There’s an answering groan behind you and you gasped, fingers digging into your lover’s sides. Astarion cooed at you, stroking your hair and looking over your shoulder.

            “Come to find us bear?” You relaxed as Astarion identified your other lover, looking over your shoulder to see Halsin. The druid offered you a smile, eyes dark but face sympathetic.

            “I only wished to check in on you. Forgive me for interrupting.” Halsin did, to his credit, sound a little embarrassed. You snickered, hole clenching around nothing. You had wanted to wait until the larger dildo to cum but you couldn’t resist Astarion.

            “You’re alright Halsin, Astarion interrupted first.” The vampire gave a short ‘humph!’ at your words, more playful than serious. Halsin gave another smile, eyes slowly roaming over the two of you. You shivered, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your gut. Apparently, you were ready to go again.

            “I offered help and you accepted, simple as that. Bear, “ Astarion had his semi mocking tone again, eyes showing that he was playing. “Come over here and clean up this mess.” All three of you shared a look, questions and answers coming quickly. Halsin, as always, had to speak things into the world.

            “Would you mind if I joined you?” You shook your head, slowly turning over to face him. He gave a low groan as you opened your legs towards him, Astarion settling in behind you. He was still hard but grabbed your hand to place a kiss on the back of it when you tried to wrap a hand around his cock.

            “Not at all. I’d love you to.” Your voice was lower than normal speaking to Halsin, more proof to you being warm and fucked. Both of your lovers moved closer, Halsin beginning to strip and Astarion reached for your bag.

            “I’m much more in the mood to direct than participate right now. Maybe after a show?” Astarion’s words had you and Halsin sharing a look, letting the words sink in before you both nodded. Astarion and Halsin had their own relationship outside the three of you and you were thankful that the triad was working for everyone. All of you enjoyed taking charge from time to time and no one had any issue with that being Astarion tonight. He gave a sinful smile at your consent and Halsin groaned, pulling your legs closer.

            “We will be more than happy to provide the entertainment.” Halsin’s words were laced with a growl and you gave an agreeing moan. He leaned down to kiss at your thighs, Astarion’s hands moving to hold you open. You squirmed, trying to get Halsin to nip but he didn’t take the bait. The druid groaned, eyes flickering to your face for just a moment before diving in.

            You whimpered, eyes closing as Halsin began to eat you out with vigor. His mouth was hot and with Astarion’s help, it felt like he was warming you from the inside out. He had no issue cleaning up the mess you made, one of his hands drifting down towards his cock. Astarion gave a pleased moan, eyes darting over to your bag.

            “Do you mind a couple of toys, Halsin?” The large elf looked up at the call of his name, eyes flickering over to your bag and then back to you. You sighed dramatically, pushing your hips closer to the eager mouth.

            “You’re not going to embarrass me Astarion.” Your tone was playful and he laughed, something fond on his face.

            “Oh I know that darling. Between the two of you I have learned, without at doubt, that druids are freaks.” You laughed at his words, Halsin’s eyes flashing with amusement as he began to lick you clean. He traced the edges of your hole over and over and your laugh dissolved into a whine.

            “Toys are acceptable. What are you thinking Astarion?” It took all of your willpower to not cry out as Hasin pulled away. Astarion didn’t answer the other man’s question verbally, reaching into your bag and pulling out a collar and leash. Halsin’s eyebrows raised and you blinked in surprise; you hadn’t meant to grab that.

            “Our adorable little pet wanted to be stretched out tonight and who better to do that than you? But I was hoping that you’d let me, ah, control the pace?” Astarion phrased his want as a question but it was coy, said to sound more enticing. Halsin sat back on his knees to think, slowly stroking himself. You watched his hand intently, wondering if Astarion would let you up so you could suck Halsin off. Just a lick?

            “I do not mind, as long as we keep the same precautions as last time.” You both nodded at the druid’s words, Halsin leaning towards Astarion with a smile. The last time the three of you had played, Halsin had tied the two of you up with rope and fucked you for hours. The word to stop was ‘dragon egg mushroom’ and three snaps if you couldn’t speak. It was a good system and it hadn’t failed you yet.

            “Excellent.” Astarion purred, grabbing the back of Halsin’s head. He kissed him hard, tongue darting into the druid’s mouth. You watched them make out for a moment, fingers reaching down to stoke Halsin. The larger man groaned, a gasp following shortly after. You refocused your attention on them and groaned when you saw the collar around Halin’s throat. Astarion pulled back with a smirk, giving a gentle tug of the leash.

            They weren’t anything fancy, a simple leather set but Astarion treated them like they were made of gold. And they looked like it in his hands. He gave an amused chuckle, taking in Halsin and tugging him close. Halsin followed immediately; there was no way the collar was tight enough to cause actual harm. He was freely giving Astarion the ability to control him and the vampire loved it. They kissed a few more times, Halsin groaning into the vampire’s mouth.

            “Go ahead and start pushing into them dear, they’ve been waiting long enough.” Astarion’s voice left no room for argument and Halsin gave a tight nod, kissing down his neck. You could see the gold rising into his eyes but he pushed it down. You pulled your hand away and Astarion reached over to drizzle oil onto his cock. Halsin groaned and you gave an answering groan in response. The elf behind you chuckled, tugging you so that you were almost laying completely flat. Your head was cradled on Astarion’s thigh, Halsin watching as you got situated.

            Once you were comfortable Halsin moved in, the leash taught as he was pulled closer. He used once hand to line up with you, groaning at how wet you were. Your mouth opened in a wordless sound as the tip of Halsin’s cock opened you up. Normally you would need a lot more prep but Astarion was eager to see you fall apart early. You couldn’t ignore the burn and Halsin waited, eyes flickering between the two of you.

            “They wanted this you know.” Astarion’s voice was easy to focus on, even if you know he was going to say something embarrassing. His words always make you feel good, even if they’re teasing. “They were going to take it nice and slow but we know they can take more, can’t you darling?”

            You try to answer, really you do but your words are cut off as Astarion pulls on the collar again. Halsin pressed closer, the head of his cock slowly pressing in and you moaned, head going back. Your legs were getting sore, insides pulsing with a mix of numbness and pleasure. Sweat gathered around Halsin’s temples and his arms shook with the force of holding himself back.

            “I-I don’t want to hurt them.” Halsin’s eyes were getting glassy, looking at Astarion with pupils blown wide. The vampire cooed, giving a devilish smile. One of his hands reached down to rub you and both you and Halsin groaned as you tighten.

            “You aren’t going to hurt them bear, you’re being such a sweet boy.” Halsin shuddered at the praise, letting himself be guided forward. He’s halfway inside and you know that he’s not going to fit the rest of the way, not if you’re not stretched out. Your hole was still burning but it felt so good, like when a bruise starts to heal.

            “Besides, they like pain with their pleasure. Isn’t that right?” One of Astarion’s hands came up to pinch your cheek and you moaned, giving a nod. It felt so good when he treated you like a toy.

            “F-feels so good Halsin please-“ Your words were cut off with a yell as he began to rock his hips. He doesn’t go deeper but hits one spot that makes you see stars. Normally you can’t cum from penetration alone but fuck if he’s not going to try. Halin’s hands are white-knuckled fists by your hips; he only moved how Astarion let him and you almost cum at the realization.

            “He can use you however he wants, can’t he?” Astation’s voice lulls you both deeper, Halsin moving faster and you opening your legs wider. “Halsin’s been so good for us, he should get rewarded. Such a gorgeous wild thing, playing nice with us.”

            Blood rushed in your ears and you’re so close to orgasm it hurts. Your body was still sensitive from Astarion taking you and Halsin makes you feel like you’re going to break apart at the seams. Halsin doesn’t stop thrusting, eyes locked on Astarion’s face as he fucks into you. He still doesn’t go deeper than halfway and all it took was Astarion rubbing you a few times for orgasm to hit.

            You half registered Halsin following you over the edge, hips jerking as pleasure washed through you. The elf gave a roar as he came, eyes snapping to your face. Astarion released the leash and Halsin bent over to give you the filthiest kiss of the night. You moaned into his mouth, Astarion jerking himself off just behind you. He came with a quiet sigh, none of the mess ending up on you.

            The three of you bask for a moment; you’re too blissed out to talk and the boys kiss gently and talk over your shoulders. Eventually Halsin pulls out and Astarion takes off the collar, everyone returning to their bodies.

            “Thank you.” Your voice is still slurred and they turn to you with matching smiles. Astarion gently kisses your forehead before rising, Halsin pulling you into his lap. You’ll be sore tomorrow but its worth every second of discomfort.

            “No need to thank us my heart; thank you for letting us enjoy the night with you.” You give him a quick kiss, Astarion walking back with water and a wet rag. The two of them are in charge of cleaning; you’re only half conscious to anything being said. You grumble as Halsin redresses you, the druid smiling and pinching your nipple. Astarion rolls his eyes but says nothing, the three of you heading back to camp. The others will tease you mercilessly but you’re too blissed out to care; that’s a tomorrow problem. 

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Potentate’s Chess Set
Wondrous item, very rare (requires attunement) ___ When found, this chess set is missing half its pieces. The set is contained within a case, which often doubles as the board when opened up. The case itself isn’t magical, but the pieces within it are. While the set is on your person and within its case, you can use an action to invoke one of its magical pieces. When you do, a spectral, Medium replica of that piece appears at your location before beginning to move. A spectral piece can move appropriately to how a normal piece would in a game of chess, in increments of 5 feet and up to a maximum range of 60 feet. For instance, a pawn could move up to 5 feet, but a bishop could move up to 60 feet in a straight line—albeit diagonally. If you’re not using a square grid, a piece can move anywhere within its range at the GM’s discretion. When you invoke a piece and move it in this way, it expends that piece’s use until the next dawn. The number of each piece you have when found is listed in its description. Use a spell attack bonus of +7 and save DC of 15 for each piece, or +8 and 16 if you have a complete set. 𝙋𝙖𝙬𝙣 (8): The pawn moves up to 5 feet, or 10 feet if it’s the first round of combat, and attacks a target within the space. On a hit, the target takes 2d8 force damage and must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. Alternatively, you can invoke the pawn as a reaction when a hostile creature’s movement provokes an opportunity attack from you. 𝘽𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙥 (2): The bishop moves in a line that’s 5 feet wide and up to 60 feet long. Each friendly creature within the line regains 3d8 hit points. 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 (2): The knight moves 10 feet in a straight line and then turns left or right (your choice) before moving another 5 feet. At the end of the movement, it attacks the target within its space. If the target is Medium or smaller, the attack is made with advantage. On a hit, the target takes 5d8 force damage. If you roll an 8 on any of the damage dice, the knight’s use isn’t expended. 𝙍𝙤𝙤𝙠 (2): The rook moves in a line that’s 5 feet wide and up to 60 feet long... Continued in the comment below! ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Tips from Margaret Atwood

9 Ways to Raise the Stakes in Your Plot

Whatever situation your hero is facing at the start of the middle section should become worse.

If the story itself falters, remember that the stakes have to grow increasingly higher for your protagonist.

Throw obstacles into their path, even if you don’t know how they’ll surmount them.

Sometimes, forcing your characters into a corner can stimulate your problem-solving skills.

Create physical danger.

Create secondary characters who bring new tensions to the story.

Introduce new problems.

Give a character a complicated history or situation.

Create obstacles for your hero.

Complicate things.

Remind the reader of the stakes.

Find ways to keep your protagonist moving from one location to another.

Add time pressure, like a ticking bomb.

3 Writing Exercises to Create a Good Plot for Your Story

In a notebook, write down:

Ten events that might spark a story. They don’t have to be big: these could be things that happened to you or someone you know, or items you read about in the news.

Ten characters. These might be characters you’ve already worked with, people you’ve seen but never spoken to, or perhaps historical figures that fascinate you.

Ten classic stories: folktales, fairy tales, myths, or maybe family stories that were passed down to you. No need to detail them; just list a few words that sum up the story.

Now take one item from each list—one event, one character, and one existing story shell— and begin a new short story.

What happens when you drop a character of your own invention into a very old folktale?

How does your personal event permit you to play with the foundational folktale?

Source

[felassan]

Shinobi602 comments on ResetEra:

"If Anthem was a runaway success, you'd be seeing a very different BioWare right now who'd be all in on the live service model. They're running uphill because they've got goodwill they need to earn back after the fact, but its failure (plus Fallen Order's success) is what allowed them to pivot right back to what they're good at: single player character driven RPGs. Silver lining but still." [source]

User: "I don't think its unreasonable to have hoped that a Dragon Age game would have similar gameplay to previous Dragon Age games." Shinobi: "Veilguard does have similar gameplay though, just not the exact��same gameplay." [source]

"Open world doesn't automatically mean better. Inquisition's open world zones were basically Bioware's response to Skyrim and anticipating that's what players wanted. The big zones were cool but they were also bloated and full of uninteresting quests. Andromeda also took Mass Effect to huge open world zones and they had the same result. It was ass and the game benefited nothing from it. It's better for Bioware to stick to what they do best which is tighter, more structured play spaces." [source]

"they'll do what they think they're good at. Inquisition was highly rated, but the big open areas were also flawed. If they felt that's not what they'll excel at, that's fine. There ARE larger open areas in Veilguard though. If that's your very strict definition on what will make the game good apparently." [source]

"If you're sole definition of a Dragon Age game is that you can take direct control of companions and a tac-cam, it's understandable. But I think it's completely false that this is somehow unrecognizable as a Dragon Age game. There are tons of different aspects that define the series outside of that." [source]

"It's been evolving and changing for over a decade." [source]

"They did say there are some "killer cameos" they're keeping secret. My mind's going to several different possibilities..." [source]

User: "Yeah, they need to wrap up this story in this game. I'm already a little annoyed that we are getting another "the veil is torn and demons are wrecking havoc" story. They cannot stretch that to a third game." Shinobi: "It's a lot more than that. It's not a repeat of Inquisition or anything." [source]

"This might genuinely be the most in depth CC in a mainstream RPG that I've seen." [source]

"Yeah this is more like Inquisition, though you could still change out companion helmets in that one." [source]

"They did confirm tavern songs are back so that's good news, and The Swan (Minrathous tavern) has a bunch." [source]

"Yeah there's a good amount of veterans working on Veilguard. Though I always find that to be such a weird qualifier, and it seemingly always comes up with Bioware in particular. As if there aren't tons of talented non-Bioware devs from across the industry who could join the team and still write and design a great game. Like nah, it can't be a good game unless it's got people who've been there for 20 years! 😄" [source]

"There are also rune items you can equip that provide different effects and act as their own abilities basically, plus ultimate attacks for each class specialization (so 9 total), plus finisher moves and things like elemental combo detonations for extra damage." [source]

"there are definitely 'open areas' you can explore around in. It's not more linear than ME2." [source]

User: "Is my reading of "mission-based" it being like ME2/3 correct?" Shinobi: "Yeah, in that regard, it's more structured like Mass Effect, which I think is to its benefit. DAI just suffered way too much from open world bloat. I think the tighter, handcrafted structure works a lot better." [source]

User: "How big are the areas? Like the first game where you open the map and pick a location?" Shinobi: "Don't know exactly. But that's what I was told. There are several open ended areas that are explorable in the story. Plus a hub area." [source]

"I think if fans have been yearning for a quality Bioware game like they were used to before, this is that. Tight design, great character models, environments, animations have gone next level, combat fluidity, etc...it's all here. I compare it to the jump from ME1->ME2. [re: the jump in quality/fidelity/presentation.] This isn't a spoiler, as Game Informer said, it's a full on action RPG, and you can still pause and issue commands. But this is not DAO. Preferences put aside, Bioware's moved on from that ages ago. This isn't BG3 at all. But they've put a huge emphasis on making combat feel good to play. As in engaging the player, more real-time, more Mass Effect. It's a meaty, single player RPG with lots of systems going on inside. Also, like they said, this is the prologue, the beginning of the game. Keep that in mind if you don't see everyone's powers unlocked or intense pause and play. If you keep all that in mind, I think you'll really like this." [source]

"But it's a big jump for Bioware. [re: animations]" [source]

"[rogues are] flashy, jump around a lot, etc." [source]

"Party members can definitely get knocked out in battle" [source]

"It's important to note that what was shown was completely level 1 combat, and likely on easy mode for demo purposes. There is way more to it in more advanced battles. When it opens up with way more abilities, unique momentum attacks, ultimates, and other...things they haven't shared yet, on higher difficulties, it will look and feel way different." [source]

"It'll be rated M. It's got its share of nudity lol." [source]

User: "should we expect a comparable level of dialogue role playing as we had in Inquisition? I don't mind the changes to combat but there seemed to be more auto dialogue here than I remember from Inquisition or Tresspasser." Shinobi: "Yeah. That was just the intro. They just like to keep the pace going for a big start to the game." [source]

"This isn't accurate at all though, and it keeps getting perpetuated. Yes, there's been departures like Casey Hudson, Aaryn Flynn, Mike Laidlaw, etc, but I could easily list dozens of people at Bioware right now that have been there for 10-20+ years, some even longer. Do they just...not count for some reason? The entire core team building Mass Effect right now were OG leads on ME1-3, been there for over 20 years. And even outside of that, like, does this really matter? Do you know one of the game's premier VFX/lighting designers worked for ILM? Or one of the cinematic leads is an alum from Blizzard? Or one of the creature animators was a senior creature animator on Horizon Forbidden West? Talent is talent. And if we look at the industry through that lens too, sure, tons of studios are just "X, Y, Z studio in name", in many ways. There's no studio in the industry that holds on to their entire team for 30-40 years." [source]

"They do have that data. And I think even this thread would be shocked at how tiny of a % of players took direct control of other companions. Or went into tac-cam. Not just Inquisition but the whole series." [source]

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Epilogue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go, the end of the ride. 💚

Song Inspo: “Lost on You” by Cubaneros

Word Count: 1.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, but mostly fluff, and an ending…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Epilogue: As Good As It Gets

Arthur was still lying low in Belize, but he was able to do you one last favor. A wire of money allowed you, John, and Ben to travel across the Atlantic—to Medellin, Colombia. There Ben took you to one of his old vacation houses.

It was a large, beautiful Spanish style house. Best of all, it was in a remote location on the cusp of a mountainside, complete with a scenic waterfall. It was like something out of Vought Geographic. You needed to take a helicopter just to get to this place.

It was the best security Ben could think of.

He had plans to renovate and beef up the surveillance of the property itself. Then you would be able to have your brother Chris and his family visit. You hadn't been able to see him or your nephew before leaving the U.S. again, but you had called Chris from the airport to let him know you were alive and well, and that you would see him soon, when it was safe.

But before all of that, there was one very important item of business you and Ben were handling together in the living room, while John was outside swimming laps in the pool.

A phone dock rested on the coffee table. The call was on speaker.

“That child represents a multi-million-dollar investment,” said Stan Edgar.

“You should’ve thought about that before you shipped us off to motherfucking Siberia,” Ben snapped. “Hell, before you decided to steal my goddamn DNA. But guess fucking what. He’s my son. He belongs with me.”

You gave him a look of pride, resting a hand on his thigh in support. He glanced at you and grabbed your hand.

“You’re not leaving me with much recourse here, Soldier Boy,” Stan replied.

Ben leaned forward. He took that as a very real threat.

“If you come after me or my family, I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen,” he said. “First off, you’re going to lose. Fucking miserably. Next, I’m going to make my way back States’ side, and I’m coming for you, Stan. You and your whole fucking world, down to the family dog. Then I’ll burn Vought to the ground and piss on whatever’s left. And then the whole world can know that I’m alive, and just who lied to them for a damn decade.”

You were uneasy with that threat, but you knew he meant it.

The other line was silent.

“Or, you can unfreeze my bank accounts and put them back in my name,” said Ben. “I’ll do you the giant fucking favor of staying where I’m at, and I never have to hear from any of you cocksuckers again.”

After another long moment, an exhale of breath came from the speaker.

“You’ll have access to your accounts by end of business today,” Stan said.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Ben said, his tone infused with both anger and sarcasm.

He hung up the phone with a mild slam, and he leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth and beard. You smiled and managed to get up off the comfy couch, just to settle yourself into a more comfortable seat across his lap. Ben welcomed you with a supportive hand molding to your lower back, and another running up your thigh. You cupped his cheek.

“Look at my man, all protective and clever at negotiations,” you teased. You leaned in to kiss the other cheek. Ben smiled reluctantly.

“Yeah, well, I think he got the idea.”

“Mhmm,” you agreed. Your lips moved over his, and you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. When you slowly pulled away to speak, your voice was husky, laden with sensuous teasing. “Now we can go on a proper honeymoon.”

Ben chuckled against your lips. “Already want to spend my money, huh?”

“It’s our money now,” you playfully retorted. (But you were serious.)

He scoffed, though he thumbed at the shining ring on your finger. You two got married the very night you set foot in Colombia.

“Besides, if you can’t spoil your pregnant wife, who can you spoil?” you said, with a sly smile.

Ben eyed you wryly. “So that’s why you said yes.”

You framed his face in your hands. Now you were serious.

“I would’ve married you even if you never had another dime to your name,” you said. “Even if we had to spend the rest of our lives in hiding.”

When he searched your eyes, he eventually found whatever he was looking for. He guided you down for a real kiss, hungry and claiming. His hands began to move down your body with purpose.

A whoosh of air preceded a pair of smallish feet landing in front of the couch. You and Ben parted, seeing John standing there all wet from the pool.

“Why’re there so many brown people here?” he asked. “I can see them in the town down there.”

You and Ben shared a perturbed look. You were the first to recover, turning to John.

“Well, we’re in South America. You’re going to see people of all shades and skin tones, and different races too.”

John seemed to process that information for a few seconds. Then he shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “Hey, can we have hot dogs for dinner?”

“It might be hard to get that here, but uh, I’ll have someone look into it,” Ben said. “Hey, grab a towel before you get the rug all wet.”

The man was getting impatient at being interrupted, you sensed. You soothed a hand over his chest.

John zipped out in flight, and came back with a fuzzy towel to wrap himself in.

“This place is so big!” he said, bouncing on his feet. His excited smile was endearing. “And all the rooms are big. And all of them have a TV. Can we watch another movie tonight?”

You smiled indulgently. “Sure. Which one do you want to watch next?”

“Jurassic Park! The dinosaurs look so real, like they’re really eating people. Ooh, no, let’s watch Scarface. The cover looked cool.”

Ben was ready to agree to Scarface, but you vetoed.

“Uh, no, we’re not doing Scarface just yet. Jurassic Park is okay,” you said. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll have lunch.”

John nodded. He half ran, half flew up the stairs to his room. You shook your head with a sigh.

“That kid’s going to need all kinds of therapy,” you said.

Ben shot you a stern look. “My son doesn’t need a fucking shrink. He’s not crazy.”

“Well, he’s not normal either,” you argued. “Who knows how else they brainwashed him. For his whole life, ten years. It’s different even from what you and I went through…and I’m still not okay.”

Ben’s tight expression faded somewhat. He swept a thumb across your cheek.

“But are you happy here?” he said.

“What?” you asked. Not because you didn’t understand him, but because his question genuinely surprised you, and even more when he doubled down, staring into your eyes with a weight in his own.

“Are you?” he pressed. “Is this really what you want?”

You read the conflict in him, the flash of uncertainty behind his otherwise stoic face. It was something you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. You smiled, as tears welled up in your eyes.

“It’s exactly what I want,” you said.   

 He gradually smiled back, albeit more reserved. “All right.”

“And you?” you prodded. “Are you okay with…you know, early retirement?”

Ben let out a long breath. “Look, I started with Vought in 1944. That’s 50 years since. A goddamn lifetime,” he said. “I’ve made more money than the fucking Beatles. Drugs, booze, women, fame. Everyone in the world knew my name. I had everything…and a lotta jack squat.”

He moved his hand over yours, resting on your stomach. It took him a moment, but he dropped another confession.

“Before you, I would’ve always had nothing.”

Emotion tightened in your throat. Tears slipped down your cheeks, no matter how quickly you swept them away.

“So you’re saying thank you,” you said cheekily. He smirked.

“I suppose I am,” he said, staring into your eyes. “Thank you.”

Your emotions continued to bubble over as you read the sincerity in his. You leaned in to steal a kiss, but first, you whispered near his lips.

“You stole my line.”

AN: and there we have it! Another rocky road to a happy ending. 🥹

I hope you enjoyed the 80s and 90s vibes, the canon divergences, the character development, and all the twists! I'd love to know what you think. 💚

I'm also working on another shorter Soldier Boy x POC!Reader series called Unravel Me, but I don't have a release date on that one yet. It's still in development. 😉 Until then, I hope you had fun with this series. In some ways, it was even more of a challenge than Break Me Down!

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[mrrharper]

Guarding The Base

Craig paused the game and opened the inventory. He had just finished a mission and wanted to organize all the new gear he had gained. He changed his weapon for a more powerful one and threw out the basic gun he had with him since the very beginning of this campaign. He then changed his gear for one with better stats, giving him more HP and allowing his character to withstand more damage from certain weapons.

After he was done with that, Craig used some of the experience points he'd gathered to customize these items, choosing different colors and adding two more badges to his profile. He took a moment to look at the avatar standing proudly with his gun in the middle of the screen after all these changes. Damn, he looked badass, Craig thought. He didn't expect to become this invested in this game, but just as his friend said, he was hooked form the start.

He clicked the escape button to exit the inventory view and continue the campaign, but the game didn't react. Craig didn't panic though, his gaming rig didn't have the newest or the most powerful components, so he was used to his computer needing a bit more time to process certain commands.

Then he noticed his helmet turned dark green. Craig leaned in to look closer at what happened, expecting this to be a momentary visual glitch. But it wasn't. And this wasn't even his helmet in a different color, it was a compleletly different one. That annoyed him a little bit, the game just glitched and robbed him of one of his items! He clicked on it to try and get back to his custom helmet but the game didn't react. Of course, it was still processing the command to exit the inventory. Craig groaned loudly. He needed to invest in a better PC - this helmet had such good stats! And it looked cool!

He breathed in, then breathed out. This was just a helmet, noting major that would hinder his progress-- his tactical vest glitched and turned into a different item. What the hell? Craig looked at his compter screen with disbelief. Another part of his character's gear just changed into somethign completely different. He clicked on his avatar to try to revert that change but again, the game did not react.

And it only got worse. One by one, elements of his character's equipment changed from his custom ones into a set of dark green tactical gear he did not recognize, which was weird as he spent a lot of time in the game's item shop. He was absolutely horrified by this sight. After just a minute or two his character was unrecognizable. Gone was his badass soldier, and in his place Craig saw a heavily armed police officer. And it seemed like his avatar was now a bit more muscular?

His screen flashed suddenly and Craig was surrounded by white light. He could not see anything beyond this blank void. He tried blinking quickly but this apparent visual phenomenon did not subside. His eyes were betraying him.

He blinked once more and the bright light disappeared, replaced with a view of a different location form the game than the one where he finished his last mission. Then something dawned on him. He wasn't looking at a screen, he was inside the game! He turned his head and instead of his room he saw the game world turn around him. What was happening? It seemed his mind was playing with him.

Just as Craig began to comprehend what had just happened to him, his body started moving involountarily. He turned towards a path leading to where he was standing and he could now see that he stood next to an entrance to some sort of hidden base. Hidden base? Oh, right, he was transported to Part II of the campaign, he remembered walking alongside this road. Entering the base tiggered a cutscene that led to the player unlocking a few important side quests. Why did the game put him here and why did it seem like he was transported into the game itself?

When Craig tried to turn his head he realized he couldn't. His body was now locked in his current position, holding his gun in both hands in front of him, ready to point it at any opponent in the blink of an eye. He was stuck in some sort of loop, first leaning to the side, then straightning out and checking his gun, then leaning slightly to the side again, and so on.

Suddenly, he saw movement. He couldn't react physically in any way so he just watched as a dark dot appeared on the horizon, then got closer and turned into a soldier running towards the entrance of the base. When he saw the entire figure he realized, based on the look of the soldier's gear, that he was looking at a player. He tried to say something to him but he couldn't. And then the player got really close and Craig felt a weird sting inside his head.

The player came even closer and #GRD0933F automatically moved to block him in his way, initiating a preplanned conversation.

"Stop or I'll shoot" the NPC barked in his low, growling voice. The player stood silent for a moment, giving himself a moment to choose one of a few possible responses.

"I have orders from Agent Dark Wolf" the player said, his avatar standing idly as #GRD0933F replayed his cutscene amination in a loop, his gun pointed at the player.

"Why should I believe you?" was the NPC's response. The player didn't choose to continue the conversation. Instead he clicked on an option to show the NPC an item from an earlier part of the game. The guard switched to another animation, putting down his gun and stepping aside to his previous position.

"Enter now, soldier" #GRD0933F showed the player to move along with his gun and both caracters left coversation mode. The player walked into the base and the NPC was back in his idling loop. Leaning to the side, then straightning out and checking his gun, then leaning slightly to the side again. As a very minor character his programming was very bare bones. He did not have many speaking lines, other than the short conversation with the player and a few grunts. He had only a few animaton loops avaliable to him, the most he could do was to flex his arm if the player chose the most friendly dialog options. No congitive capacity was left for the guard, and thus no real thought crossed his mind as he stood like a statue, making sure the secret base was secure.

Another player came up to the guard NPC, triggering the cutscene.

"Stop or I'll shoot" the NPC barked in his low, growling voice. The player stood silent for a moment, giving himself a moment to choose one of a few possible responses.

[starboundpix]

day three ✧ beachcombing

inspired by the mermay prompt list @/muzzlemouths made!

"Come here," hisses the mer, midnight blue tail thrashing, tossing up a splash of seawater that never makes it anywhere close to you.

You don't spare Moon a glance, eyes focused on the sand and seaweed beneath your feet as you search for hidden treasures. "No, thank you, today is a stay dry day for me," you tell him, crouching down as something glints under the early morning sunlight. Lifting up a tangle of seaweed, you pick up a piece of light yellow sea glass, edges rounded out by the beating of waves and sand over time. As you hold it up to the light to admire how the sun makes it seem to glow from within, you say, "You don't have to stay and watch me, y'know? I'm just looking for pretty shells and glass. Besides, isn't it past your bedtime? Go to sleep, old man."

There's another splash, louder than the waves, and the accompanying snarled, "Brat," tugs your lips into a smile.

The next hour or so passes relatively peacefully as you continue across the beach, finding sea glass and intact shells, gently adding them to the growing collection forming in your bag. You can feel Moon's gaze on you all the while, red eyes squinting against the sun but still observing you from his location further in the ocean.

When the sun starts to get unbearably hot, you decide that you've done enough beachcombing for the day and move toward the end of the beach where the sand meets the rockier part of shore and the cliffs looming above provide some shade. You settle on the rocks, cooling your feet in the ocean, and pull out your water bottle.

As you drink, a splash of water signifies the emergence of Moon. He pulls himself out of the water enough for his upper body to rest on the rocks, propping his head up on his hands. He flicks his tail, sprinkling droplets of water onto your legs.

"Hey!" you protest, but there's no real heat in your voice.

Moon snickers and does it again. "Slowpoke."

Rolling your eyes, you start to dig through your bag to pull out the things you had collected from the beach in a mini show-and-tell that you always do, starting with the yellow sea glass you found first. "I like this one a lot," you tell Moon, placing it onto his palm, "because it glows when you put it up to the sun. It's also a very nice shade of yellow."

"Like Sunny," he says as he holds the sea glass up to the sky between two clawed fingers, squinting when it catches the light.

You squirm. "Well, yes, like Sun, I suppose." You hadn't thought about it when you first found the glass, but its particular shade matches that of a certain yellow mer's tail.

"Anyway," you say, quickly placing the next item—this one a small clamshell—onto Moon's hand. You explain what you like about it and why you decided to keep it, and he studies both you and the shell. He's a patient listener as you ramble about your findings for the day. By the time you reach the last item in your collection, his hands are full of your little shells and glass and pretty rocks. He cradles them carefully, the webbing between his fingers helping to make sure he does not drop a single one of your newfound treasures.

"This last one is another piece of sea glass, but look at how round it is!" You hold it up so Moon can see, rolling the near-perfect sphere between your fingers. "I don't think I've ever found such a nicely rounded one before. And look at its color, it's such a nice shade of blue. These dark blue ones aren't as common as the light blue ones."

Moon looks at the sea glass, takes in the deep blue color, and a wide grin stretches across his face. He tilts his head to the side, red eyes fixated on your face, and says, "You like dark blue, hm?" His tail lifts out of the water, sunlight showing the iridescent sheen on his scales, midnight blue fins flicking a bit more water on your lap before settling back into the ocean.

You stare. Your mouth opens, then shuts. Your face is hot, cheeks burning, but surely that is from the heat, surely.

It takes a few more seconds for your brain to properly function again and you pull your arm back toward yourself, stuffing the sea glass back into your bag. "I'll have you know that blue is my favorite color. I've always liked blue things and– don't let any of this get to your head!"

He laughs, a sound that warms you from the inside out. Moon carefully tilts his hands, spreading your trinkets onto the empty space beside you. "Stay," he demands, then pushes backward off the rocks in a beautiful arch and disappears into the ocean.

You're left speechless again, only able to stare at where the mer had just been.

Eventually, you start to pick up your little treasures and return them to your bag. Knowing that Moon probably would not tell you to stay if he would be gone for too long, you drink some more of your water and pull out a snack you had prepared for your beach activities today.

Soon enough, the blue mer reappears, pulling himself back onto the rocks with ease.

"Welcome back," you say. "Do you want to share why you disappeared after– after being so rude to me like this?"

Moon snickers. "Not rude. But I share this." He brings one of his hands up toward you, waiting for you to open your hand before he places whatever he was holding onto your palm. His claws scrape the slightest bit over your skin as he finally pulls back, sending a tingle up your arm.

Your eyes widen as you take in the shell that rests in your hand. “Moon, this is such a large shell!” It nearly covers your entire hand. The surface of it is rather rough, a mix of greys and browns with hints of green. Seven indents curve close to the outer edge of the shell.

You look up from the shell at the mer who gave it to you. “I’ve never seen something like this before! Thanks, Moon.”

The discontent on Moon’s face surprises you.

“No thanks, yet. Look at this.” He flips the shell over, so the curved inside is revealed to you.

“Oh,” you whisper. Although the inside of the shell is dark, deep blues shimmer under the light of the sun. Layers of lighter purples and silver thread through the ever changing blues. The colors are lovely and deep, reminding you of Moon himself. “It’s just like your tail. It’s gorgeous, I love these colors. Thank you for showing me this.” You look at the mer who has been intently studying your face the entire time. Stretching out your hand, you offer the shell back to him.

Moon shakes his head, an expression on his face that you can’t quite place, yet it makes you give him a sweet smile. His hand curls over your own, closing your fingers around the shell. “Keep. It’s yours.”

Your smile grows. “Really? Thank you, Moon! It’s my favorite shell now. I’ll take good care of it.”

“Good.”

A moment passes where his gaze holds your own.

Then a wave crashes into the rocks and water drenches your legs and shorts, startling you with the coldness of it.

You scramble to your feet, hand clenched around the gift from Moon. “I can’t believe it,” you whine, “Today was supposed to be a stay dry day.”

“Come swim,” Moon suggests, with a grin of sharp teeth.

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your bag, carefully adding your newest shell to your collection. “Nice try, Moon. I should head home to put this new beautiful shell I got on display. And you’re probably tired, old man.”

“Not old, brat!”

With a laugh, you hurry away from the edge of the rocks to avoid the incoming splash from Moon. “I’ll see you soon!” you shout, throwing a wave over your shoulder as you leave the mer.

Moon watches you go until you disappear, before diving under the waves. He can’t wait to see the look on Sun's face when he hears about you accepting Moon's shell.

note: the shell Moon gave Reader is actually a blackfoot paua shell! they are sooo gorgeous, i definitely recommend looking them up c:

mermay 2024 masterlist

[thefrogman]

The Happy Clippers

Why do I love product photography so much?

People have asked this from time to time. They will be confused as to why I choose to put so much effort into photographing a jar of hair gel or a soda bottle instead of something more meaningful. Or they will be impressed by the photography but their distaste for advertising in general will give them pause. Or they will complain that artists are wasting their talent helping companies market their wares.

And I understand some of that. But I fell in love with product photography mostly because I like the challenge. It requires a lot of very high level lighting techniques. It is essentially light sculpture. And it just so happens that when sculpting with light, the best subjects are those with glossy surfaces. And when learning and practicing this genre, it is super easy to just grab something you have in your house. And the glossiest and most reflective stuff tends to be... products.

Product photography is also easier for my disability. I don't have to deal with the anxiety that photographing people can sometimes cause. I don't have to go to a location. I can get up, move a light, lie back down and rest. Get up, move another light, lie back down. I don't have to do everything all at once and burn myself out.

There is also the fact that photographers can make a nice living shooting products. Artists deserve to eat. And there is nothing wrong with using your talent to that end.

But I also really like the idea of taking something mundane and ordinary and trying to make it interesting or beautiful. It takes a lot of creativity to figure out how to make a bottle of shampoo "sexy" or make a bottle of cheap wine not look so cheap.

And that is why this photo of nail clippers is one of my favorite product photos. I think it is funny because these clippers probably don't deserve to look this good.

In the future I do actually hope to take still life photos of more meaningful subjects. And I'd love to help people with small businesses get better photos of their items. There are a ton of folks who make awesome stuff on Etsy who just don't know how to capture a nice photo of their work. And I am planning an art project where I take portraits of people and their most cherished object.

But if a cosmetics company ever asks me to splash some water on a bottle of bronzer, I'm definitely going to take that paycheck.

[overtake]

a black lace bralette 💜

CW: Infidelity through unintentional but also definitely intentional sexting

Max doesn’t send Daniel the photo deliberately.

Kelly watched too many videos about minimalism, got inspired, and is doing a massive closet clean out. Their bedroom is littered with fabric. Max doesn’t even know how half these items even fit on a human body. They’re a confusing mess of zippers and strings.

Kelly gave up on asking his opinion about three dresses in — somehow, “you look beautiful,” is the wrong answer when you say it more than once, and she banished him to the sim.

“I’m going to drop some of these off with friends and get dinner with them,” she says, holding up a bag of clothes and giving him a quick kiss. “Would you mind just taking the rest of the clothes and putting them in a box?”

Max rolls his neck and shoulders, then dutifully stands up from his chair. “Of course.”

She thanks him with another kiss then floats out the door. Max probably won’t see her for at least a few hours, but he’d rather get this out of the way quickly so he can get back to gaming.

He grabs an abandoned cardboard box and begins recklessly throwing things in, paying no mind to his work until his fingers catch on the neat edges of lace tucked inside a silky pink dress.

He carefully picks the item out and examines it, trying to determine if this was included deliberately or not. It’s a delicate black bralette with a pretty little flower detail over the place nipples would sit. He’s never seen Kelly wear this, and for good reason. The band is visibly too wide for her small frame, which means he should definitely toss it in the box. There are tags on it and everything.

He swallows, then tosses it back on the bed. It doesn’t hurt to double check, just in case.

When the bed is clear, he carefully spreads the fine lace over the stark white sheets and takes a photo. He keeps the tag in the frame so she can see the size.

Max Verstappen: This was tucked inside a dress. Looks big enough to fit me 😂 Keep or donate?

He attaches the photo and clicks send, then very intentionally does not check his phone again until after he’s closed up the box and heated up some dinner.

Daniel Ricciardo: Well. If you’re asking me, keep.

Daniel Ricciardo: I’d have to see it on first. It is your size after all …

Daniel Ricciardo: Might look good under this year’s polos

Max drops his fork with a clang and scrolls up to see that yeah, he’d clicked into his text thread with Daniel instead of Kelly. Amazing. Beautiful.

With Daniel, acting embarrassed about it would only make the situation worse. The best move with him, 100% of the time, is to lean into it.

He checks the time, then Kelly’s location. They haven’t even made it to a restaurant yet. Her dot is still firmly inside her friend’s building. She doesn’t always get his friendship with Daniel and the kind of humour they share, and this one would be especially tough to explain if she walked in on it.

He cuts one last look to the front door then slithers back to the bedroom. He yanks out one of the several navy polos hanging on his sparse side of the closet and tosses it onto the bed alongside the wrinkled shirt he was just wearing.

He reaches out three fingers and scoops up the bralette with them, letting it dangle in the air as he tries to figure out how to put it on. There’s no clasp, just some kind of elastic, so he figures he just has to pull it on over his head.

He adjusts it in his hands so the small triangles face the front, then goes for it. He gets a little tangled up in it first try, has to pull it back up to successfully place a complicated x-shape across his back, but he gets it settled. It’s a bit too tight on him, but it fits.

He adjusts the bra so everything is settled correctly and sitting right, then tugs the polo on without daring to look down at the lace on its own.

He pulls up the thread with Daniel, opens the camera, and takes a picture with the shirt tugged open just enough to see the black straps peeking out.

Max Verstappen: What do you think? Will I be best-dressed?

Daniel sends something back almost immediately, which is unusual for him. He’s normally a slow texter.

Daniel Ricciardo: Think I have to see it without the polo to really decide. Very fashion-forward, though.

Max’s body is warm all over, small beads of sweat starting to collect in the pits of his shirt. He can’t explain what comes over him. He moves on instinct, no thought, no consideration of what the existence of a picture like this could do to him if it got leaked.

He props up his phone on the bed, pulls off the polo, and sits in front of the camera. He’s learned a few things in his years as an Instagram boyfriend, and the self-timer is one. He clicks the three-second option and leans his torso forward a little so the bralette takes up more of the frame.

He can see it now, the full effect. The bra being too tight means it pushes the extra fat on his pecs closer together. His arms are pressed against his side, which furthers the effect of his barely-there-but-definitely-there tits. The black lace is a harsh contrast to his pale skin, but the flushed pink on his neck and chest soften it a little. The band digs into his flesh, but it doesn’t look bad on camera.

His athletic shorts look dumb in comparison, he thinks. He crops the photo just below the soft curve of hips, enough to cut out the mesh but keep his full upper body in the frame. The photo doesn’t capture his face — he’s not totally stupid, even if this photo is only going to Daniel — but you can see the barest hint of his unshaven stubble.

Max Verstappen: So? Think the team will go for it?

He watches Daniel type, then stop, then type again. It goes on for one minute, two, three, before he finally gets a voice memo. It’s only four seconds long, but he drops his phone on the bed and lets it play from there.

Daniel clearly has his retainer in, his words slightly lisped in that distinct way they do when his tongue hits plastic.

“I think you should bring that to Baku,” he says. He sounds like he’s aiming for a joke, and is halfway there, but his voice is straining at the end of the sentence.

Max lets out one long, shuddering breath. The lace feels too restrictive, indenting his skin like damning proof instead of an elaborate joke. He pulls it off, then crumbles the material and stuffs it inside the polo on his bed so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer.

He has to answer. He can’t leave Daniel on read, with this half-serious thing sitting between them, but he also can’t play it off entirely. It’s not — he’s happy. He’s in a good, healthy relationship with someone he loves. He stopped letting himself wonder about Daniel years ago, gave into the reality that Daniel’s jokes would never mean as much as Max used to think they might.

Max Verstappen: Maybe I will, maybe I won’t

Max Verstappen: You’ll have to get my polo off on Thursday to see 😜

He searches the emoji keyboard for wink, selects one with extreme caution. He thinks it strikes the correct balance of joking and flirty.

Daniel types, then stops, then types all over again.

Daniel Ricciardo: I love a challenge. See you Thursday.

The conversation ends there. Max finishes his now-cold dinner, tapes up the box for donation, and joins his friends for a few quick rounds of FIFA. He doesn’t tell Kelly about the bra and doesn’t delete the photo from his phone. Instead, he takes the polo with the black lace inside, opens the corner of his already-packed suitcase, and stuffs it inside.

[barelyahumanbeing]

The Strange Night at the Convenience Store

Pairing Humanoid monster x reader

Plot You moved to that place recently and already had a favorite convenience store. There was nothing special about, until you had to go there at night and cross into a peculiar version of it... with also a peculiar attendant

Warnings: None

N. A. So this is my first story for this blog, and I'm so excited with this new project! I have plans of bringing other formats besides lists like this one, so please tell me what type of content you feel more comfortable with 🥰 I'll also create a masterlist with all my content separated by creature, title and other categories in the future, so everything will be kept in order. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little story and feel free to share your thoughts!

🥀 You moved to that city a few weeks ago and were still adapting to your new routine. It was the first time you were going to live alone, so you were excited and scared at the same time

🥀 Among all the things you had to manage by yourself now, it was discovering the supermarkets and shops that existed near your place, and which of them had the best products and prices. One day, you found a convenience store on a gas station located on a block behind the one where your building was, which sold snacks and essential items at a good price. It quickly became your favorite store, and you went there on every opportunity you had

🥀 Thing is that you always went there by day, so you never needed to leave your apartment by night when you wanted a good treat

🥀 However, there was this time when you forgot to shop at day, so you only found out your pantry was empty when it was almost 21pm

🥀 You sighed. Your movie night would have to start later than you planned

🥀 You left home promising you were going back to its comfort soon

🥀 You used to cross an alley right behind your building to shorten the way to the store, but you didn’t want to use it at night, so you took an entire walk around the block.

🥀 When you were about to cross the street, you noticed a change in your surroundings. The street, the buildings and cars were... different. Old. It was like you were in the same place, but in a past version of it. Even the few people you saw on the sidewalks wore strange clothes: they weren’t retro clothes like the ones you used to see in popular shops, but real, old clothes, though they were in good conditions, as if they were bought recently. The people were strange as well, but you weren’t sure about why you thought that

🥀 You didn’t understand what was going on, but you decided to pretend everything was alright and enter the convenience store. It was better than making a scene and attract unwanted attention

🥀 It was like entering another dimension: it was the perfect scenario of those convenience store of the movies produced in the 1980s, but realistic… and with an unsettling aura. Maybe it was the green neon lights that came out of nowhere, casting a sinister glow over the objects and colored walls. You saw a calendar and went there to see the date. You held your breath: the sheet was new, but it was from February 1984

🥀 So not only you traveled to a different universe, you also traveled back in time

🥀 The store was empty, but this didn’t bring you the relief you were expecting: the idea of being alone at night in a distorted reality was far too scary

🥀 As you walked through the corridors, you observed the racks and found the strangest things, from weird foods with even weider flavors, objects which use you couldn’t imagine and other things you were unable to identify.

🥀 Well, unlike you imagined, you weren’t really alone in that place: a voice called from the bottom of the place. It was a male, duplicated voice that spoke polite words in human language, but little it had to do with humanity

🥀 “Good evening, Miss. What can I do for you?”

🥀 You froze in your spot. The voice was talking to you. The person – or whatever was that – already saw you. What should you do next?

🥀 Since you didn’t give any verbal response, the voice spoke again

🥀 “Hey, it looks like you’re lost. Do you need help?”

🥀 In fact, you needed help, but you weren’t sure if you could seek for any help in there with an unknown being... Still, you decided to risk it. It wasn’t like you had many choices

🥀 “I do... I think I ended up in the wrong address, and I’d like to know how I get out of here”

🥀 You said those things while approaching the counter. When you realized what you were doing, you were already standing before it, staring at the voice’s owner

🥀 He was a man, or something like that: a humanoid individual dressed in the same style of the people you saw outside, but in his case it was the typical attendant uniform of the movies; he was taller than any human you’ve seen in your life, being able to touch the ceiling in case he raised his arms; his skin was of a dark shade of green, and most of the visible skin was covered in a discreet layer of even darker hair, and the same color was seen in the thick strands on his head. His eyes, resembling gold and contrasting with the green of his body, glowed under the neon lights when he laid them on you. You comforted yourself thinking it was just a gleam of curiosity

🥀 To be honest, you were curious about him too. First, it was obvious that he wasn’t wearing a costume: the green, the gold and all that hair were too real to deceive one’s eyes. Second, there was no way one could fake that height: you barely reached his chest. Besides, in the middle of that extraordinary situation, you realized you weren’t sensing any threat coming from him; you felt like you were in the presence of a common person, which only difference lied in his appearance. It was like a weird dream, except that you knew you were awake

🥀 He spoke for the third time, and you confirmed the origin of the voice. It vibrated inside you now that you heard it closer

🥀 “Yeah, I see you don’t belong here. I’d be scared if was you, too”

🥀 That was said in a playful tone, and you saw the long fangs on his mouth when he opened it to smile. You let out a nervous laugh

🥀 “I don’t understand what’s going on... I went to a convenience store near my place, but tonight things went... differently. And now I’m here”

🥀 The creature made a "Hm" and thought of this for a moment. The absence of confusion in his traits showed you that, apparently, the case wasn't as unusual to him as it was to you. And, in fact, his reply let it clear

🥀 "It used to happen more often in the past. It's been a while since the last person from your side ended up here, but it's no big deal. We don't know why or how exactly it happens, but sometimes you just cross the door without noticing. Usually they get scared when they realize they're lost, but you don't seem scared at all"

🥀 He approached the wooden board as to observe you from close. You were apprehensive, but didn't step back

🥀 "Still, I'm sure it's your first time here", he continued, "I don't remember seeing your face before"

🥀 You crossed your arms in front of your chest. That was your time to smile

🥀 "You always remember people's faces?"

🥀 “Not always, but the most interesting ones never escape my sight”

🥀 You spent a considerable time staring at him, measuring those words. Was that his way to say you were pretty or, at least, peculiar? What was even considered pretty in that place? Whatever the answer, the whole thing was unbelievable: a non human individual was flirting with you?

🥀 "Well, I think you haven't seen much people from my side, then", you commented, "I'm pretty common among my people. I don't think you'd remember me anyway"

🥀 The glow in his eyes came back, stronger as he leaned over the board. The fangs seemed to glow in his smile

🥀 "I work at a convenience store, dear. I've seen more people than you could count, and I'm telling you: my eyes and my memory work well together"

🥀 Your smile faded a bit, less because you didn’t know how to respond than by embarrassment. Your hand brushed your hair behind your war before you could stop it

🥀 "If you say so..."

🥀 Fortunately for you, he made you a favor and changed the conversation's direction

🥀 "So, since you're my only client at the moment, guess you can have my undivided attention. What do you need for tonight? Coke? Snacks? Something else?"

🥀 You laughed at the casual tone after such an intense dialogue about remembering faces

🥀 "I need something for a movie night. What do you have for me?"

🥀 "Tell me what you want"

🥀 "I want you to surprise me"

Tell me if you want Part 2!

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Forest guardian

Daryl Dixon x reader [pt.2]

You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.

Yet another AU, mentions of canibalism, also Merle is gross.

The bald man behind the counter of the shoddy store was probably the grossest dude you had ever seen, cleaning what looked like blood off his hands while he kept so openly staring at your tits in the low cut top and following you around with his intense gaze as you picked up some items from the racks. "Dontcha worry, doll. Had ta quit skinnin' rabbit when I heard ya come in. S'legal in these 'ere parts." He reassures you, and after you paid you sadly needed to interact with him even more, seeing you weren't familiar with the roads and needed help finding your destination.

"Oh, tha' cabin's over 'ere on tha' road. Can't miss it, sugar." He doodled a little house on the map for you. "Gotta park righ' 'ere." 'here' was marked with a small X. "Road ends, rests'a sand path, too narrow fer cars." With a filthy grin he pointed at the map and marked the location of the place you rented to spend a week in nature to heal. You needed to be away from society for a bit and booked this crazy cheap place in the middle of the woods close to a gorgeous lake. It surprised you there weren't any more cabins like that around, the area was so nice it would make a perfect luxurious vacation spot. Still, that gross man's voice rung in the back of your mind. "Now dontcha go swimmin' in tha' lake, missy. Pretty lil' thang like yerself'd gon' get snatched up ne'er ta be seen 'gain."

On the way to the cabin, following the route you were suggested you passed the lake and watched the sun cast a beautiful gleam over its surface.

'This really is too gorgeous to go swim in.' You mind wondered to the cabin as you closed in on its location, turning the last corner before the road cut off and your small path through the tree line became visible. Not wanting to walk the path twice you stacked everything you took onto your body and started to lug your stuff forward, seeing you had to round the cabin to make to the front door.

The cabin that looked nothing like the photos on the website.. "Oh of course I got catfished by a fucking cabi--"

Stopping dead in your tracks you dropped your bags and sent yourself forward, up the wooden porch and down on your knees.

A man laid passed out in the door opening of the cabin, his breaths shallow. Every item he wore was covered in dried mud and stained to hell and back. A dead rabbit laid beside him, probably dropped from his grasp when he went down. Kneeling closer you looked him over for and wounds and found a deep gash on his side when you turned him over, and saw what looked like a stab wound on his upper arm.

Underneath long, greasy hair there was a large gash on his face, long healed over and leaving an angry scar over an empty eye socket and one side of his mouth was torn open.

You wanted to stare but needed to help this man first, going to find your first aid kit and cleaning the wounds after dragging him onto the cot in the corner of the ratty cabin.

"I'm sorry." You murmured at the man who didn't even hear you as he was out cold. Applying the disinfectant to his wound had you wince along with the soft twitch of his body and a wave of panic washed over you.

What if he woke up, with you hovering over him? You had spotted the throwing axe strapped to his waist, along with two large hunting knives and suddenly prayed you wouldn't end up on the wrong end of those.

When he didn't wake you continued to clean and bandage his arm, and thanked yourself for throwing a pack of butterfly stitches in your bag and carefully stuck them over the cut over his side with one hand as the other held it closed between your fingers.

Wrapping his arm was easy, but having to unroll the bandage around his waist was proving to be a challenge, having to shove your arm underneath his body to pass the bandage to your other hand multiple times.

The invasive movements had moved the man's body and it surprised you he hadn't woken up by the time you tied off the end.

With his wounds patched you could only sit around and wait. You got scammed by a too good to be true offer on a cabin and the first thing you had to do after getting creeped out in the shop was patch up a stranger's wounds yourself because the area had no service.

Curiosity got the best of you after a moment and you went to snoop around the place, passing time by going through cabinets and drawers.

At the third drawer you opened you felt like you stumbled on a goldmine. A black wallet and chain, and a passport laid pushed towards the back.

"Daryl Dixon, huh." Both the ID and the passport belonged to the man, and other cards in the wallet held the same name. It had to be him.

You gave the pictures a long inspection, turning to go compare to the passed out man behind you.

Instead, before you got the chance to turn a hand came and snatched the items from yours. "S'mine, thank you very much."

With a shriek you turned to face the voice and were met with the iciest blue eye you had ever seen.

The open drawer dug into your back as you tried to move away from him.

With the stabbing feeling your gaze turned back to the drawer, hoping to close it but something familiar caught your eye. So instead you dug your hand to grab at a flyer, and with it pulling out a stash of attached papers that scattered over the floor and made Daryl take a step back.

The paper in your hands was filled with the same photos as the cabin rental showed. "The hell?" It was a sales flyer, it told about the building plan for a large amount of cabins surrounding the lake. You looked past the flyer to the floor, bending down to look at the various news articles about the area.

"JUST ANNOUNCED: NEW LUXURY VACATION HOMES." That one spread information about the upcoming tourist attraction.

A smaller piece announced a delay due to "disagreements from locals." You thought if Daryl and the shop guy were those locals.

Then a large, gruesome front page spread.

"MASSACRE AT BUILDING SITE. PROJECT CANCELED."

The title did the article no justice, the first sentence warning people to stop reading if they were easily nauseated, and continued on to go into detail of the events where a whole building crew was murdered mere hours after their scheduled arrival at the site. The murders deemed "too gruesome to share in more detail.".

More articles of missing campers and words of the mysterious serial killer in this area were scattered around and that sudden panic from earlier arose again.

You were dead. It was a fact at the time you first thought of it and it was still a fact now that you saw all this. With shaking breaths you slowly looked up at the man still standing before you.

His hand rested on the handle of his hunting knife, fingers not yet curled around it. His one eye staring, clearly deep in thought.

"That's you, right? The killer?" Your fingers rested on a smaller article, looking further up at his face.

A quiet acknowledging grunt left him as he turned around and ignored your further words.

Daryl's mind raced with opinions, facts and other voices that all called out different things.

He killed trespassers. Humans were bad for these woods, they shouldn't exist here. Except for him and his brother. But this one healed him, patched up his wounds and made sure he didn't die. You weren’t here to harm..

His wandering mind had led him outside, lighting a cigarette and deciding to return the favor and rummage through the bags you brought, fishing out a tub of cookies from your backpack.

From just outside the doorway you heard the familiar click of the tub clasps opening, followed by a loud crunching.

“Huh. HEY!” Getting up from the floor you made your way over to the man and snatched the box from his hands. “Those are mine, thank you.” Your tone mocked his from before and Daryl grunted in protest.

“Why’re ya ‘ere anyways?” You huffed in response, a hand on your hip and pointing the one with the box at where he still sat in front of your pile of bags. “Obviously I came here on vacation, but I guess I’ll be driving home again since I got scammed…”

You had moved to start packing up your first aid kit and moved over to stuff it back into your backpack but pausing, and handing the kit to Daryl. “Why?” He spoke around lungfuls of smoke before blowing it out away from you. “Got ‘nough a’those layin’ ‘round.”

‘Why’re ya tellin’ her tha? She saw yer a killer. Why aint she dead yet?’ The voice in his head blended with his brother’s, scolding him like he was so used to, but still not believing you were harmful enough to kill.

Besides, you knew how to tend to wounds which was useful.

Hell, even going out to find his brother to bring him an outdoor oven and ingredients to make those cookies and keep you around just fir those was enough to dispel the voices.

You were standing in front of the storage space at the back of he cabin and you were worried. Why were you following this killer and not just leaving your stuff behind and running to your car? You’d never speak of this and find some excuse on the way home. But still you kept standing there next to him as he opened the door and showed the huge collection of useful stuff. All taken from trespassers.

“You’re killing me aren’t you?” The words weren’t supposed to leave your mouth and a hand clamped over it immediately after, eyes on him in fear as tears threatened to spill due to the panic you were causing yourself. But then again, would it really be that bad if he killed you? No more shitty jobs and cheating boyfriends. No more crying yourself to sleep over bills and food.

“Yer dif’rent.” You barely caught his words when he disappeared into his stash and throwing a soft fuzzy blanket at you. “Feel tha’ one. Ya like tha’?” You hadn’t throwing the item until it hit you in the face, grabbing to catch it before it hit the ground and being taken off guard even more by how soft it was. It calmed you, rubbing it against your cheek. At the sight of the tab on it you gasped, taking a closer look at it and staring back at Daryl, your previous worries entirely overridden by the shock. “Why do you have a hundred dollar blanket in your shed?”

He only shrugged. “Sum whiny whore had it. Guess ‘er boyfriend thought campin’ at a pretty lake was gon’ get ‘em laid or sum’n.”

“Bitch was fuckin’ disgustin’.” A shudder ran along his spine at the memory of cutting her open. “All ‘er curves fake, no meat left on ‘er bones tha’ was edible. Damn fillers leakin’ out of ‘er flesh over the fire.” He just rambled about it like it meant nothing to him at all while you stared. He ate them? You were getting hungry just now but that feeling faded just as quick upon hearing him talk.

He saw the disgust on your face and decided he needed to shut up. “Ah, sorry. Ain’t normal people talk.”

His apology really came out of left field and had you swallow a giggle, but failing and sputtering out a laugh. “Why even are you telling me all this?” Despite your laughs it was a serious question. “I mean, what if ai leave and call the cops on you?” Not that you were going to, but you got curious and had already decided you were fine with however this day was going to end. If this guy as gonna roast you over a fire then so be it, you weren’t scared anymore.

“Who says yer leavin’? M’keepin’ ya ‘ere with me. Yer dif’rent.”

Different. There it was again, he’s called you that more than once now. “Who says I want that?”

“Y’aint runnin’ yet.” He put his pointer fingers together in a counting gesture. “Ya patched me up. An’ yer not scared a’me ‘n ma face.”

It’s true. When you first saw his face it shocked you a bit, but mostly you were curious how someone could survive a wound like that. You nodded thoughtfully, not entirely aware you did so and earned a smile. “I aint plannin’ on eatin’ ya. But ya gotta respect ma rules or I’ll change ma mind ‘bout it.”

“If you’re talking about eating people you better end me now, there’s no way I’m doing that, ever.” You held your hands up in defeat with the blanket tossed over one shoulder. “Go ahead.”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to laugh. A deep, rumbling laugh that had you squint at him. He laughed?

Your calm around the offer for him to kill you right where you stood surprised him. You really didn’t care if he took you out. He respected that, so as long as you were fine with his ways he had no reason to get rid of you. “Dontcha worry yer pretty lil’ head ‘bout tha’. Aint gon’ make ya eat ‘em. ‘Nough small game ‘round ‘ere fer ya. I’ll keep ya fed.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Yeah, rabbits and squirrels weren’t part of your menu now but as long as he wasn’t feeding you humans.

Talking about eating made the grumble in your stomach make another appearance, this time accompanied my the unmistaken noise of hunger. A huffed laugh and a nod towards the front door had you both back inside where Daryl still had his rabbit he had started skinning at his makeshift kitchenette across the room rom where you sat on the bed eating your leftover sandwich.

You observed him from a distance. How he skillfully took apart the animal and separated the meats while keeping an eye on his fireplace in the meantime.

“Hey, c’mere.” Without looking up from his work he waved one hand above his head to get your attention. He made sure you got the pieces you wanted, and prepared them to your liking. The way he was roasting them over the fireplace was almost like an inside barbecue.

“Smells nice.” You had moved to sit next to him beside the fire that roasted your dinner.

You ate together and spent the time after in quiet togetherness. Daryl cleaned up the rabbit’s leftovers and spent some time doing god knows what outside while you stayed in. You sat on the bed fidgeting with your clothing and the soft fuzz on the blanket he gave you. For a short moment you wondered what you were still doing here, why you hadn’t gotten up and started walking away, but now your mind was blank, staring mindlessly at the floor. You didn’t even notice Daryl come back in. He just suddenly appeared in your view, dropping a stack of bedrolls and sleeping bags at your feet and beginning to roll them out. When you realized his implications you let yourself fall. Ack with a sigh. You really had been here since early in the afternoon and still hadn’t made an effort to leave and were about to spend the night in a killer’s cabin in the woods..

You wondered if all these setbacks in life had officially driven you mad.

After you offered to take over from Daryl to “make your own bed” he only scoffed and tapped your ankle to make space. “Makin’ ma own bed ‘ere. Ya keep the cot, s’fine.” You went back and forth a bunch of times but he kept insisting you kept the bed. Why was he so kind?

You tossed him his pillows and got a quizzical look that followed you as you went to retrieve the ones you brought from your duffle bag at the door. With an understanding grunt he moved on, unzipping a sleeping bag and laying it over the bedding and left through the curtain beside the kitchenette.

“You brush your teeth?” You were seriously confused now. “You, a serial killer living in the middle of nowhere, brushes his teeth.” You pointed at him, hand palm up in disbelief. He rolled his one eye at your wording and took the thing from his mouth and pointed it back at you in an almost threatening way. “Yeah, so?” He spoke around a mouthful of foam. “Ya will keep up too when ya gotta yank out a rotten tooth ‘n can’t eat nut’n but soup fer weeks.” He scoffed at your assumption of his hygiene just because he killed people. “Gotta keep clean ta eat. Can’t eat, can’t hunt. Can’t hunt, can’t keep them woods ‘ere safe.” His tone was serious, he meant every word and made it clear these woods meant much to him. Enough to kill for. After he was done he turned away again and the room fell silent once more, taking it as your cue to crawl under the soft blanket Daryl gave you and sleep for the night.

You were about to lay down and zone out when he walked back through the curtain, ducking b something out of one drawer lower than you got before when you got there and move back, keeping what was in his hand hidden from your line of sight, but you caught something in his mouth for a second. “Wait. Hold up.” Oh fuck. His mind told him he fucked up by grabbing that magazine. You were gonna ask what he grabbed and there was no way you needed to know what he was planning to do behind that wall. You sat up and watched as he peeked his head from behind the curtain to look at you with a raised brow, faking his best annoyed look. “Hmm?” With a toothbrush between the scarred end of his lips he waited for you to speak.