#this has been buried in my WIPs for a while

[khorazir]

WIP Meme

I was tagged by @nuttersinc to share something from my current WIP. It’s from chapter 3 of the Payneland fic The Case of the Stolen Barrow:

“Wait for us, or better, come back down,” calls Crystal, before muttering, “What a fucking mess,” under her breath. She makes to walk on, but Charles grabs the sleeve of her jacket.

“Wait,” he hisses. “Something’s off.”

“Everything’s off here,” she returns, before drawing her jacket more tightly around herself. “For one, it’s getting colder by the minute. Do you guys feel that, too?”

“Yes, we do,” nods Edwin, intrigued by the chill creeping into his garments and making the hairs on the back on his hand stand up. He has not felt this kind of cold in more than a century, bone-chilling fear aside. The Doll House in Hell was a humid mess, always slightly too cold or too warm for comfort but never this chilly. He looks at Charles, who is frowning deeply as he zips up his Harrington jacket.

“Edwin, I can’t think up my black coat,” he says while a visible shiver runs through him.

Concentrating on materialsing his own tweed overcoat to hand it to Charles to keep him warm, Edwin realises that he can’t, either. Normally, making their clothes requires only very little energy, but now it feels like an impossibly difficult task. On his wrist, the glowing cord flickers, a sure sign that Edwin’s magic is increasingly compromised.

“Something seems to be actively blocking my powers now,” says Crystal, her teeth clattering.

“My magic, too,” says Edwin. He steps closer to Charles who even more than Crystal is shaking with cold now, his face pale and his lips tinged blue, deep dark shadows under his eyes. He looks shockingly like the frightened boy dying of internal bleeding and hypothermia whom Edwin encountered in the attic of St. Hilarion’s thirty-five years ago.

“Charles?” he enquires softly, hesitantly reaching out to rub his shaking shoulder encouraginly.

“I’m okay, mate,” rasps Charles. “Just fucking freezing. Haven’t been this cold since ... well. You know. Since I died.”

“Have you got a blanket or something in your backpack?” asks Crystal, also huddling closer for warmth, despite the two ghosts being unable to produce any she could actually feel.

“Yeah, think so,” replies Charles, visibly lightening up. He begins to rummage in his pack while Edwin calls out to the pictsies again.

This time, the only reply he gets is a hissing murmur, like wind sighing over the turf. “Yes, we are up here. We are waiting for you. Come now, come to us.”

“Those aren’t the pictsies speaking,” mutters Charles, his uncorded arm buried in the depths of his bag. “For one, they don’t say ‘yes’. They say ‘aye’.”

“Brilliantly observed, Charles,” nods Edwin. “This begs the question, however, of who is speaking.”

“Someone capable of doing some really fucked up magic,” says Crystal. Then she sighs when Charles wraps a patterned blanket round her shoulders – one Edwin knitted over the course of several years, in fact, while wearing his disguise. Snuggling into it, she huffs a thanks. “Guys, I think we should turn round and head back down. We can’t just blindly – literally – walk further into this fog. We don’t even know what we’re up against.”

“I agree,” says Charles. “This feels like that chapter of Lord of the Rings you read to me two days ago, Edwin. You know, when the hobbits travel through the Barrow-Downs and get lost in the fog, and end up in that old barrow and—” He stares at Edwin wide-eyed when apparently, he has an epiphany.

“You think that’s what we’re dealing with here? A barrow-wight or something?”

Edwin nods thoughtfully. “I have never come across any account that hints at those creatures being real, but given these strange circumstances, I would not rule it out. Good thinking, Charles. The question is, how do we proceed? We could head down, but that would not solve the actual problem.”

“Getting lost in a fucking magical mist wouldn’t, either,” growls Crystal.

“We can still nagivate by the lie of the land,” says Edwin. He takes a few cautious steps up the slope towards a darker shadow that can only be the tree-gate Fergus spoke about. It was right across their path. They cannot have missed it.

Crack!

I tag @discordantwords @raina-at and @jrow

[ardent-fox]

WIP Wednesday ✨️✍️

Got tagged by my beloved @metalheadmickey to share a snippet from one of my WIPs. I initially started writing this along with a bunch of other Kinktober fics I have yet to finish, which I hope to complete in the next couple of weeks, and all of them are yet to go through some rigorous editing. Until then, enjoy my first ever smut snippet I've posted here, in which Mickey tries to stifle his emotional reaction during some intense sex, but Ian's having none of that 🖤

********

"If you want us to ride this til the end, I'm gonna need you to work with me," he says softly, brushing his nose against Mickey's hair, inhaling some of his scent in the process. "Think you can do that?"

Mickey closes his eyes, sighing as he feels the resistance drain from his body. Slowly but surely, he reaches the conclusion that Ian is right, him going against himself and Ian isn't getting them anywhere. At this point, he recognizes there are only two options for him to choose from: he can either embrace what is happening and keep enjoying one of the best fucks he's ever had, or they can stop completely and try to decipher the reason behind his reaction in their own time. There's no denying it either way, and only one of these options ends with the orgasm he's aching for. His hair tickles Ian's shoulder as he nods, choosing the former.

"Alright," Ian replies, nuzzling into him. "We handle this together like everything else, okay? You trust me?" His lips find Mickey's jawline again, bringing those perfect kisses along with them, and Mickey chews his lip at the feelings bubbling inside him. Nose flaring, he nods once more.

Ian's mouth breaks away from him, still remaining close. "Need words, unless you want us to change positions," he informs him in his full voice, still soft, yet determined. "Can't see your face, y'know."

Mickey swallows hard, unsure if he can find the ability to speak at all. "Yeah," it comes out low, but it's there.

"Yes, what, baby?" Ian purrs, bending down and pressing a slow, deep kiss into the crook of Mickey's neck. It pulls an involuntary moan out of him, his cock twitching in response. Fuck, his husband is going to be the death of him.

"Yes, I trust you," Mickey adds, voice strained. "I'll... cooperate or whatever."

********

Tagging @arrowflier, @squidyyy23, @whatthebodygraspsnot, @thisdivorce, @bravemikhailo, @takeyourpillsbitchh, @teatimeallovertown, @sisitrip if you have something you'd like to share ✨️

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

fun fact: I actually have not 1, not 2, but 3 dedicated playlists of OST-style music for my various Guild Wars 2 AUs, and... that, of all ways, is the closest I get to "outlining" my stories. every sequence has a dedicated track that I picked out according to what I'd imagine playing in-game if it was an actual playable story arc in Guild Wars 2.

Regrowth's playlist has 59 songs and Flourish has 28.

then the Tideturners have one too, with a grand total of 22.

......... I don't have a problem,

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Female Reader!

Impromptu smut killing my friends led to this so enjoy me ignoring my WIP list and asks... I am not editing this... It's pure rough draft smut again 😂 I'm being tortured rn to post it lmao...

Alastor x FReader.

CW: P in V sex, lots of talking from Alastor, radio broadcasting. No editing; no beta; we're going in raw, WE DIE LIKE ADAM!

(See male reader version here)

Here's...

Scream For Me.

(Fem Reader!)

Alastor's eyes gleam with excitement as he obliges your request, to act like you're in a broadcast as he fucks you on the control panel.

His voice taking on the smooth, seductive cadence of his radio persona, the radio overlay seamless as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

"Welcome back to the airwaves, my dear listeners. We have a very special guest in the studio tonight - an exquisite Sinner! Who's been brought to her knees by the Radio Demon himself. She's got a mouthwatering pair of tits, a luscious ass, and a swollen little clit that's just begging to be played with."

He reaches up, tweaking your nipples as he continues to describe your body to his imaginary audience, his voice dripping with sarcasm and lust.

"But the real treat here, folks, is her tight little cunt."

Alastor grunts as he buries himself inside you, his fingers digging into your hips as he picks up the pace, his voice growing more urgent with each passing second.

"She's soaked, practically drowning in her own juices. And the sounds she makes, oh the sounds... They're like music to my ears, a symphony of lust and desire that has me on the edge of sanity."

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

"You're mine. My personal plaything. And I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever have before, right here on the airwaves for everyone to hear."

You moan, body trembling cunt spasming, as you cling to him desperately while he takes you without mercy.

"I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't take it anymore."

As Alastor continues to narrate your intimate encounter, his words become more explicit and crude, pushing the boundaries of decency and fueling your mutual desire.

"Look at you! You're a mess. Your makeup's smeared, your hair's a tangled mess, and you're covered in sweat and cum. But you're still so fucking beautiful, so incredibly sexy. I can't get enough of you."

His thrusts become more erratic, his movements more aggressive as he approaches his peak, his voice rising in volume and intensity.

"I'm going to fill you up, Princess. I'm going to flood your cunt with my seed, marking you as mine for all eternity."

Alastor's words send a surge of pleasure through you, and you moan loudly, your body writhing under his relentless assault. The thought of being 'broadcasted' to an unknown number of listeners adds a thrill to your encounter, pushing you further into the realm of ecstasy.

"Oh god... yes... I'm yours... I'll do anything for you..." You pant, your voice filled with desire and submission.

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. The sensations build within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

"I'm going to cum... Alastor..."

"And those tits... So perfect for playing with while I'm balls deep inside you... Scream for me."

Alastor's words push you over the edge, and you cry out in pleasure as your body convulses in an intense, shattering orgasm. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to pound into you relentlessly as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over you, cunt clenching hard, vision going white with pleasure.

His grip on your hips becomes almost painful, his movements rough and uncontrolled as he chases his own release, driven by the sight and sound of you, the feel of you clenching around him making him make his own delicious sounds.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, he releases his seed deep inside you, filling you up, flooding you.

"And there it is, folks! The sweet sound of this sweet sinners surrender. Her body convulsing, her voice screaming out in ecstasy as I claim her yet again. And now, I'm now painting her insides with my seed, branding her as mine for all eternity."

As Alastor continues to speak into the microphone, his words grow more ragged, more primal, reflecting the intensity of his own climax.

"Feel me, Darling. Feel my cum filling you up, making you mine."

His thrusts become slower, more measured as he savors the sensation of release, his body still convulsing with aftershocks of pleasure.

"That's it, my dear. Take it all. Let every last drop of my seed fill you up, marking you as mine."

As Alastor finally stills, his body spent and satisfied, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his voice softening as he addresses you directly once more.

"You were amazing, Sweetheart. Truly breathtaking. And remember, no matter where this journey takes us, you will always be mine."

He withdraws from you slowly, his semen trickling from your sated cunt as he moves aside to allow you to rest and recover from your intense encounter. As he does so, he reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust, affection, and pride.

"Thank you, Alastor," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from moaning and your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. "It was... incredible."

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth and love radiating from him. For the first time in your life, you truly feel seen, understood, and accepted for who you are, flaws and all.

"I love you," you murmur, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation or fear.

Alastor's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with joy as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, Dearest Heart," he whispers against your mouth. "Now and forever."

(unbeknownst to you, he had actually been broadcasting the whole time, not just pretending.)

[cuttlekiss-mlp]

thought i might attempt to start off strong with my mlp infection au

this is still a pretty big WIP, especially with all of the characters. i've been very thorough with how i want things to go, so i've been taking my time with it.

stuck with a sketchier style bc it fit the vibe of what i wanted so well

MY LITTLE CATASTROPHE : SPIKE AND TWI

!!!TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE!!! "Dear Princess Celestia, I have made a grave mistake, and my judgement is no longer sound. I have ruined everything. I am in search of a cure for what I have created. It cannot be destroyed. Normal magic cannot undo what I have done. He is gone, but maybe I can save the others. I am sorry that this letter has not been sent to you in a timely fashion. He is gone. I had to send this letter via pony mail. Please forgive me for all I have done. Friendship is not strong enough to save us. My friends have abandoned me. They know what I have done. Your faithful student, your failure, Twilight Sparkle."

Between all of the commotion of Sombra's defeat and Twilight's ascension as an alicorn, no one was quick to notice a very important missing person. As soon as Twilight realized her favorite baby dragon was not there to greet her and celebrate, she felt sick to her stomach. Where was he? Spike was found by Cadence. He was delivered to Twilight wrapped in her large pink wings, wounded beyond what could be saved. He was already dead when he was found. Her baby dragon was gone.

No amount of friendship or comfort could console the new princess. She laid with her body curled around Spike, and her cries filled the courtyard for hours. It took two days for her to move from that spot and head home towards Ponyville, where Spike would be buried in front of her home. But she could not bare the thought. Spike could not be gone, not forever.

When she returned home, she holed up in her tree house. The doors locked, the curtains covered the windows, and there was nothing but silence. Twilight worked tirelessly for hours, using magic to preserve her baby dragon's body long enough to find a spell that would erase what happened. Spike would not be dead for much longer. The power of friendship and love would bring him back to life. It had to.

She explained to her friends that if they used the Elements of Harmony, theoretically, he could be revived. They had their reservations. No one thought it was a good idea...but Rainbow Dash talked them into trying. Twilight was hurting, she needed her friends to be there for her. However, their attempts were in vein. Spike was not revived.

Despite their failed attempts, Twilight remained stubborn and persistent. She could not let this happen. Spike could not be gone. Everyone was starting to worry about her, but no amount of convincing could change her mind. They refused to continue trying. They did not believe in her and that made her very angry.

Returning into hiding, Twilight's determination became concrete. She did not sleep, she barely ate. Dash visited frequently, while the others had resolved that Twilight needed time and space. She was the only reason the princess ate anything at all. Twilight soon caught reference to a spell in one of her books. This spell was in a particular book in Canterlot's library...and that is where she would go. She packed up and she made her way swiftly to Canterlot. Unfortunately, the book was locked away, for it's magic was forbidden and dangerous. But this did not matter to her. Twilight broke into the library, stole the book, and rushed off to Ponyville. She would not allow anything to stand in her way. Spike could not be gone.

The spell required an intense amount of magic. Twilight would need help to cast the spell, to bring Spike back. But, none of the other elements would help her. They insisted she lay Spike to rest. She refused. How could they ever say such a thing? How could they give up on Spike? How could they not believe in her?

Twilight took it upon herself to cast the spell. She took the Elements of Harmony and she wielded them herself. Bright beams of pink light flooded out of her curtains...

!!!TW BEGINS!!!

"Twilight. . ." A soft, exhausted voice called from the explosion that was her living room. Twilight could barely hear it's faintness, but his voice was unmistakable. She blindly stumbled towards the voice, to find Spike. When she found him, she was first overjoyed. Spike was getting up! Spike was alive!! Bright pink and sparkling ooze spilled from his chest as he rose from his bed. "Twilight?" His voice was louder and sounded panicked? "What is happening-" his voice cut off with a sickening gurgle. Pink bursted from his mouth, and he coughed and wheezed, trying desperately to regain his breath. His eyes were bleeding, or were they rotting? Twilight couldn't tell. She rushed to his side and she held him. Spike choked and convulsed, pink ooze spilling all over his bed and onto the floor and onto her. And then...he stopped. Unsure of what happened, of what to do, Twilight stared in disbelief, in heartbreak. Had she revived him only to suffer yet another painful death? Tears welled in her eyes and she cried out with unbearable pain.

Between her cries and uncontrollable sobbing, she didn't hear Dash break through one of her windows. She held Spike and cried and cried. The house was a mess and Twilight was a mess and covered in pink ooze and Spike was a mess and pink ooze was still coming out of him. Despite her best efforts, Twilight would not let go of Spike. She snapped at Dash to leave her alone, and that is what Dash did. She didn't want to, but what was there to do?

Twilight fell asleep in the midst of her crying, holding her baby dragon close and covering him with her wings.

She woke to a gurgling growl and a terrifying creature standing above her, with pink, sparkling drool dripping from it's mouth. It's eyes were dark and lifeless but little pink glowing orbs betrayed it's gaze. It stared and growled and breathed raspy, shallow breaths. Twilight pushed it away in fear, scrambling up from Spike's bed. That is when she realized what the creature was. It was Spike...but it wasn't truly. He twitched and groaned and dripped pink ooze.

Before she knew it, a knock came at her door. Spike's head snapped towards the sound.

The door opened.

Spike lunged.

Screams and Spike's growls erupted.

What had she done?

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[thesassypadawan]

Sweet Treat (Clay x FemReader)

Summary: It’s all you’ve wanted, all you craved. That one certain sweet treat, that goes so well with…

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Oral (male receiving), wonderful use of ice cream, manipulative/possessive Clay, and… his thick, long dick.

Notes: A continuation of Too Sweet! 🧡🖤

- “So, this is what you’re craving?” Clay taunts, lips curled up in a smirk. The object of your current obsession held tightly in his hand. “This is what my little wifey wants?”

- You gaze up at him. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide and shining. Desperate, hungry look on your face. While you wait obediently on your knees, rubbing your ample bump in anticipation. “Yes, baby’s been kicking me the whole day for it.”

- Raising an eyebrow, he lays back against the lavish pillows. Shaking his head, chuckling softly. “Has he? Naughty boy.”

- Ever so slightly, he tilts the melting cone. “Beating up his poor mama.” A few fat, creamy drops plopping onto his bare chest. “Just because of a bit of ice cream.”

- Whimpering, you shift in his lap. Watching them slowly trickle southwards. Fighting the urge to lap, lick them off. Even as they come to settle at the base of his hard cock. “Please…can I have some?”

- Further he tips it, more begin to freckle his skin. Until finally the entire scoop falls and lands squarely…

- “Of course,” he mutters. Spreading, smearing the sugary confection all over his torso…his length. “Better get every last drop though. Can’t have any going to waste.”

- “Thank you, hubby.” Timidly, you lean forward. Stomach pressing into his, small hiss escaping you from the sudden cool touch. Mouth hovering barely an inch above his left pec. “I promise.”

- Running your tongue across his skin, you squeak happily. Savoring the sweetness, his salty sweat. Lips brushing his nipple; sucking gently, cleaning it thoroughly. Before giving the same attention to the other. Eliciting a soft growl from him.

- Slowly you slide down, dipping between the cracks of his abs. Following the lines of his body, along the path of his happy trail. Taking your time, enjoying each delicious inch…the way your flesh sticks to his.

- Hard muscles quiver beneath you. A low groan escapes Clay when he glides through your soaked folds. When you taste your way upwards; tracing the veins, circling the tip. Before wrapping your lips around, the flavor of yourself and him mixed perfectly with the dessert. “Good girl…”

- Big hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck. Fingers tangle in your hair, gripping it firmly. “Such a good, good girl…” Tugging on it just harsh enough that your head jerks back, eyes lock. “Loving her treat…”

- Pressing, he forces you to descend. Watching as he disappears into the warmth of your mouth, your throat…while you gag and sputter. Saliva dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, making a mess of your chin and neck. “Gobbling it all up…” Until your nose was finally flush with his abdomen, buried into the gooey remnants you left behind.

- Now fully lodged, you will yourself to relax. Tears pricking at your waterlines, your breaths coming out in small puffs. His nails digging gently into your scalp. “ Always asking…”

- His hold tightens and you brace your hands against the woven rug. He starts to guide you, moving your head up and down. Bucking his hips; setting a quick, merciless pace. “Begging for more…”

- He was close. You can tell by the way he twitches, throbs. The guttural sounds that fall from his mouth, whenever he hits the back of your throat. How his hips stutter; drives grow irregular, erratic. “Like the greedy thing she is…”

- Pushing, thrusting hard one last time. Streams of hot cum shot into your mouth, coating your tongue. Overwhelming your senses completely. And you can’t help but moan, squeal uncontrollably. As you swallow down his entire load…at the feeling of being so full of him.

- Gingerly, he pulls you off. Cupping your cheek, rubbing his thumb across your swollen bottom lip. Wiping away a stray glob, offering it to you. “There. Did that satisfy your craving?”

- Panting softly, you nod. Cleaning off his digit, humming in appreciation. “Yes, baby and I are happy.”

- “That’s what I like to hear, that you enjoyed your ‘sweet treat’,” he coos. Hand finding its way to your stomach, caressing it lovingly. Massaging your taunt, sticky skin. “Now why don’t you lay on your back…and let daddy have his?”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @anakinstwinklebunny, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @beresfordsgirl, @kenmaiica, @sythethecarrot, @xx-ttamaraa, @everydaydreamer, @rafeswifeyy2, @laoif, @xhunnybeeex

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fall From You Drop by Drop

Warnings: this fic will include dark content and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new fling has a bigger effect on your life than expected.

Characters: Thor

Note: I hope you all enjoy this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Warmth shrouds you in an unbreakable cocoon. His rough hand brushes up your back, thick fingertips curling, crawling up to your shoulder, grasping as you’re smothered from above. His large body covers you, deep breaths flow in and out of you, your own and his.

You arch your chest up, your arm hooked around his neck as you welcome him in. The heat is intoxicating. No doubt, no hesitation, you can feel it. This is the moment. 

Thor draws back, lips parting sloppily as he puffs and peers down at you. He pets your cheek as his eyes drink you in. You’ve never ever had anyone marvel at you. That’s what he’s doing. He looks at you like some sacred being. 

You put your hand on his chest as he stares, “you okay?” 

He nods and inhales deeply. “I’m perfect,” he caresses your temple, “you’re perfect.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, “are you... sure?” He asks. 

That’s something else new. They rarely ask. They’re rarely patient. The only want what they want. They wouldn’t come back for weeks just to spend time together. They wouldn’t hear ‘no’ or they’d pout at ‘I’m just not ready’. Not him. Not Thor. 

Maybe it isn’t just a careless idiom. Maybe older men are better. More mature at the very least. 

“I’m sure,” you say. 

His eyes rove down as his hand slowly trails around your side. You look down as he touches the fabric of your shirt. He drags his touch to the hem and hooks his thumb beneath. He pulls the fabric up your stomach and you shudder out a breath. 

“Sure?” He prompts again as his eyes flick up. 

You pause to admire him. He’s older but handsomely so. Square jaw, hair so golden that the silver weaves in subtly, lines etched into his flesh to add definition to his eyes and lips, broad shoulders, thick torso, tall and powerful. His age is hardly a detriment, it only makes everything so much more enticing. 

You nod and hum. Your heart is fluttering. It’s been a while but more so, it’s rarely been good. You’re nervous, afraid even, but you are ready. That’s what’s different about time is that you are sure. 

He pushes your shirt up over your bra. You shiver. Your nipples poke pertly through the thin cups. You squirm, not uncomfortable, but eager. There’s an itch inside of you. 

You watch him. He’s hypnotised by you as he fondles you through your bra. He traces the curve of your tits before he tugs the cups above your chest. He rolls his thumb around your nipple and slowly bows to take it between his teeth. He sucks and purrs, flicking his tongue until you twitch. 

You clutch the back of his head and moan. You push your chest up higher and he gropes your other tit as he tends to the first. He toys with you tenderly. He switches and you bury your fingers in his thick hair. One hand wanders down his back, between his shoulder blades, to urge him on. 

His hand moves lower. He keeps his attention on your tits. You grab your shirt, lifting your head and shoulders awkwardly to shed it completely. He nips along your ribs as he dips his hand down the front of your leggings. You sigh as he feels along the trimmed vee of hair along your pelvis. 

He bends his fingers and rubs along your clit. You gasp and arch deeper. He sucks on your flesh, leaving hot spots down your stomach. He drags his finger up and down your folds then circles around your bud. He presses down as second and continues to swirl. 

You whine as sparks ping from your core and scatter across your body. You writhe as he weaves back up to your chest, his other hand creeping under your back. He pinches until the hooks of your bra release. 

Once more he nuzzles and nips at your tits. You claw at the top of his shirt. You want more. You need more. 

He sits up and frees his hand from your leggings. You drone and continue to tug at his shirt. He chuckles, a sultry rumble, and pulls it over his head. You gape up at his large chest and the soft lines of his stomach. There’s a layer of flesh over the muscle, a scar along his left side, another at the top of his right pec.

He wears the years effortlessly. His thick arms bulge and the veins of his hands throb. His age is his strength.  

He falls on you again. His swallows up your moans as his hands rove over your body. He is desperate, feeling every inch of you. He rolls his body against yours, cradled between your legs. His snarls and growls as he burrows his nose against your throat. 

You push your head down into cushion, the couch springy back beneath his movements. His hand traces down to your pelvis again, this time over the thin fabric of your leggings. He runs his nail along the seam and surprises you as he prods you through it. 

He splits through the stitches. You can’t care for the torn fabric as he stretches the hole wider. His mouth latches onto your neck as he tortures your flesh with teeth and tongue. He slides his fingers around your cotton panties and pulls them to the side. There’s something so raw about him, how he bulls through the layers to get to you. 

He flicks his fingers up and down your folds, pressing them along your entrance. He pushes into you, inch by inch, wiggling as he gets deeper and deeper. As he reaches his knuckles, he lays his thumb on your clit and rocks his hand. 

You turn your head and bite your lip, his name trapped in your throat. You move your hips as you wordlessly beg for more. He tilts his hand into you, tangling you around his touch. He sinks as deep as he can and lifts his head. 

“Ready for me, pet?” He growls. 

You nod and moan. You spread wider for him as you grasp at the side of the cushion. He pushes his knees to the edges and drags his hand from your cunt. He holds himself up on one elbow, laying kisses over your forehead and cheek. He tickles you with his nose as his zipper whispers beneath his fingertips. 

He angles closer and brings his tip again you. He slickens his throbbing head against your lips, spreading your juices down his shaft as he pumps himself. He lines up with your entrance, the sides of his knuckles against you, and he leans into you. 

Your lips form an O as your breath rushes from you. He impales you in a single thrust and you whimper at the overwhelming fullness. You tilt your hips and bend your spine as you take all of him. He hooks his arm beneath you and pulls you off the couch into his lap. You slide even further onto him. 

He wraps you up in his arms, rocking you atop him as he nibbles at your lower lip. Your eyes roll back as the friction of his pelvis against your clit burns hotter and hotter. Your bodies meld into a cloud of desire and delight. The room around you slakes away to a haze of colours and shadows. 

You clasp a hank of his hair in your hand, your other gripping his thick arm as you work against him. He growls and ruts up into you, holding your hip in place as he pumps from below. Harder and harder, until you feel you might break in two. 

“Mmmm,” he purrs along your collar bone, “so good, so soft, so supple...” 

His words flicker in you, yet you can’t focus on how strange they seem. You roll your head on your neck and grasp his shoulders as you bounce yourself in your lap. Desperation mounts inside of you as he thrusts in tandem. 

Your eyes close on their own as you sink into the lust of the moment. In surrounds you, tying you up in ribbons, as pleasure swells over from your chest, erupting in wild whines and wails. You’ve never known anything like this. You never want it to end. 

⏳

You yawn as you enter the coffee shop. The smell of grinding beans is usually enlivening but that day, nothing has done the trick. Caffeine, protein, sugar. You’re dead on your feet. You blame the night of glorious sex and you don’t regret it. 

Lorelai is waiting already. You check your watch. It’s time already. You thought you were early. You should be, you left an hour early. The day is just passing you by. 

You wave at her as she spots you. You go to the counter to put your order in and wait. You take your double americano and join her at the table. 

“Hey, Lor,” you swallow another yawn. “How’s it going?” 

You take a sip to clear the frog from your throat, then try to dislodge it with a cough. Your voice feels as if it’s pooling in your mouth like molasses. Thick and sticky. 

“Woah, you look rough. Long night?” She asks. 

You smirk and look at the ceiling. 

“Do tell. How’d date night go?” She trills. 

You giggle but only a little before it fizzles. Even that, feels like too much. You look at her, “wonderful. Immaculate. Paradise.” 

“Seems like. You must’ve been up all night,” she teases. 

“Close to,” you admit, almost giddy. “He’s...” 

“How old, again?” She winks. 

“Lor,” you roll your eyes. 

“Told you. Experience,” she chirps. “I’m jealous but, honey, you need sleep. You look like you’ve been run over. Twice.” 

“Oh, you’re definitely jealous,” you sneer. “I’m fine.” 

“Well,” she sniffs, “I guess you are closer to thirty than me.” 

“Please, by one week. I’ve got time.” 

“Five years and counting,” she says. 

“Whatever,” you check your phone. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right?” 

“Oh, you enjoy that old man,” she snorts. 

⏳

Thor comes over again. With how fast the day went by, it feels like he never left. Just as quickly, you’re naked and all that fades away. Time, doubt, anxiety. All of it gone but for the ecstasy of the moment. 

The rose-tinted cloud fades and you float back up to reality. You stare at the ceiling as he snores next to you. You feel flat. Hollow. You groan as your bladder squeezes uncomfortably. You barely have the strength to get up. 

You wobble into the bathroom and shut the door. You flip the light on and sit on the toilet. You stay their longer than it takes to relieve the pressure. 

You have to use the counter to get to your feet. Is the sex that good? Your hips are killing you. Every inch of you is achy. 

You turn to look at your reflection. You wince. You lean in to see yourself clearer. Is that a gray hair. A wrinkle in your forehead? You don’t get a clear glimpse as your vision blurs in and out of focus. You shake it off and push yourself away. 

You turn the light off as you stagger into the bedroom. You stumble and hit the side of the bed. Thor grunts and you sense him sit up in the dark. He helps you sit on the bed. 

“You alright, pet?” He rubs your back. 

“Fine, just... tripped,” you lie. 

“Mm, come here,” he drags you up over him and rolls over you. “You need sleep. Let me put you to bed.” 

You don’t need much coaxing. Ever since that first time, you can’t resist. It’s like an addiction. When he isn’t inside of you, you’re wishing he was. It’s all you can think about. It’s scary. This is supposed to be casual. Short-term. 

It can be. You just need to relax. Have fun. Enjoy it while it lasts. 

⌛

“I got us coffee,” Thor booms, jarring you from sleep. 

The world tilts as you open your eyes. You’re dizzy. Weak. He’s anything but as he marches up the side of the bed and plants a cup next to you. 

“Went down to the cafe on Redmond. They had a new special,” he proclaims. 

You blink and fall onto your back. You stare up at him. You squint as you try to see him clearer. His hair seems to shine, golder than ever, and his complexion is rosy and vibrant. You wear, he’s missing some wrinkles. Maybe he’s into botox? 

You try to sit up. You collapse and he helps you. You rub your forehead in embarrassment. 

“Sorry, thanks, I think... I haven’t been sleeping enough,” you croak. 

He grabs the cup and hands it to you. He sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, I might be to blame, keeping you up all night,” he winks. 

You laugh and it trickle into a yawn. You sip the coffee. It makes your chest burn. You put it back on the night table. You can’t drink that. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say. 

“Not at all. I was up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” he beams at you. 

You stare at him. Did he get his hair dyed? He must have done something. You shake your head at the thought. You shouldn’t worry about all that. 

You look at your hands. The veins protrude a bit more than before and you have a dark spot right under your knuckle. Hm. 

“Excuse me,” you bend your legs and put all your strength into turn them over the edge of the bed. 

You stand and Thor taps your ass. You squeak but shuffle away. Your feet are heavy and your legs stiff. You retreat into the bathroom and hide behind the door. 

You reach to feel where he slapped you. It’s still hot. You let your fingers stretch across the skin. It feels loose. 

You turn on the light and face the mirror. You nearly shriek. Your roots. You bring your hands up to frame your face as you stare at the silver all around your hairline. And your face. Your complexion is off and your cheeks seems to sag. How can that be? You’re twenty-five. 

You lean in to look at your left eye. The pupil is cloudy. What’s happening to you?

The door opens, frightening you as the hinges creak. You look over at Thor. He stands naked and shameless in the doorway. Your mouth falls open. 

His stomach is tight and deeply lined. His muscles are corded where before they were hidden beneath a bit of dough. And his arms look thick, his chest even broader, his shoulders rounder. He looks... younger. 

“Mm, ready to start the day,” he reaches for you. 

You eye twitches as his touch scalds you. You feel the thrill ripples through you and wipes away the horror of that moment. He turns you away from your reflection and lifts you onto the porcelain of the sink. You catch the edge as you bend your legs around him.  

In an instant, there is only him and your need for him. You forget why you were so worried a moment ago. Something... oh well. It’s just another little thing that’s slipped your mind. It happens so often these days. 

[binniesbooks]

hi fayebae, imma send these before i go for my hiatus again(im not sure if you alr have smth planned for tyun n hyuka! cos i know u have a yj fic thats coming soon, so ill send these in for them)

was thinking of tyun x reader for this

uk the series “academy reincarnation”!! There was a salsa dance ep! I was thinking that reader decided to sign up to the salsa academy where tyun is one of the instructors?/student! reader wanted to learn salsa for the longest time but has always been afraid to as one would usually need to dance in pairs. afraid of having any physical contact with any stranger(due to a trauma she formed from a relationship), even tho it was difficult, reader eventually let down her walls with tyun as the many practice sessions go by, she finds herself now looking forward to salsa practices as thats the only time she can see tyun! And she craves his touch. During one of the practices, they got so lost in the dance that their faces ended up really close to each other! Tension arises(she wants him, he wants her, dare i say more 🤭smut of course!) [didnt wanna write too much to allow ur creative freedom!!]

i hope this is good gah(just thought i should send smth in for the other members too hehe, pls dont put aside ur wip again!! Do this after ure done w ur yj one gah) love u my soobie fav boobie💗

TENDER TOUCH

TH 002 .F22 2024

wc 5.3k

pairings gentle!Taehyun x abused!reader

warnings physical and sexual abuse, traumatic experience, traumatized reader, protected sex, abusive ex-boyfriend (idk what else did I miss)

faye's note *insert: Taehyun's 어디 있지 (where am I) in boba😳* as promised, here's my second fic for the day! this is my first Taehyun fic and I'm fucking obsessed that it got up to 5.3k words, wth. Anyways, @inkigayocamman I know you requested a Tae fic, but here's another one for u to enjoy I guess while I'm still working on it. 🙂‍↕️ I hope you like this too! And ofc, to my one and only Beomgyu's kitten, I love your brain, it's so sexy omfg. I'm totally sat. Plus yeah, the yj fic is still on the line. 🤣 Anyway, I did a few research(again) for this fic, so I hope it turned out good, fingers crossed!

Edit: Thanks for proofreading the whole ass fic @babymochibeargyu I'm dead now. 😭😂 luv uuuu 😖💓

"Learn how to dance Salsa, we offer multiple dance forms for beginners to professionals. Come join us..." You mumbled reading the flyer your friend handed you.

"Jia, you know I can't do anything like this anymore." You sighed as you handed her back the flyer.

"I know, I know, it's because of your trauma, right? But maybe this is the way that can only help you overcome that trauma," She started, "I'm worried about you taking this class but I'm more worried about you carrying that trauma all throughout your life." Jia gently holds your hand, still careful not to scare you with the skin contact.

You're lost in your thought for a while thinking if you can really let go of your trauma after all this time. It's been so long since you haven't engaged in any relationship after your last one.

"I-I'll think about it." You sighed, you really wanted to be free but you just didn't know how to start. "Please do, I really wanted to help you." Jia's eyes are full of worry, sadness and guilt. Because it's been so long yet she can't do anything to help.

You've always been wanting to learn how to dance Salsa. It's like your little dream ever since, however, your boyfriend from your last relationship did not even want you to be touched nor be grazed by any man's skin. You insisted you could just pair with a girl but he threatened you to hurt anyone who will be around you if you kept on insisting to register for the dance class. You ended up not registering for the class and burying your little dance dream into the depths of your heart.

The following week, you found yourself standing in front of the dance academy building. Breathing slowly, thinking deeply whether you really want to do it or not. You were clutching on the flyer tightly. Your knees fell weak as you stumbled down, retreating all the way to the confinement of your apartment to hide from the world.

It took so much courage for you to do this. Especially when you ended up trying once again a week later. You're standing in the front of the building, staring at the swaying banner of the academy with a "SALSA DANCE ACADEMY" written on it.

You softly knocked on the door before opening it. "Hi! Come in! How may I help you?" You were greeted with s young lady, clad in a salsa dance costume. She looks bright and bubbly.

"I.. Uhm.. wanted to register for the class." You meekly answered as you slid down on the chair. "May I know your name?" The lady picked up the pen on the table and grabbed a file.

"Y/n...y/n s/n." You silently answered.

"What class would you like to be included in?" The lady's smile never faltered. Her bright aura makes you feel comfortable for a bit. "What do you offer?" You asked back.

"Well, we have group sessions and we also have one-on-one lessons," you nodded at her, signaling her to keep going. "In group sessions, there will be 15 pairs -- 30 individuals in a class, plus the 2 dance instructors," you felt pressured with just the thought of being included in the group. "In the one-on-one class, we will find you a pair if you still have none, or you can bring one, and then also a pair of instructors," she explained.

"I'll take the latter."

"Please sign here and we'll wait for another one to sign up." She smiled again at you. You were thinking of bringing your friend to the class.

"By any chance, can I bring a girl for the one-on-one class?" Her expression suddenly turned sad, "I'm afraid we are only taking a man and a woman as a pair for the one-on-one class. Usually, the pairs who sign up for the one-on-one class end up acquiring advanced skills than those who are in the group."

You thought of backing out once again but you shook your head to clear your mind. You're already here, you're already a step closer to the most awaited time of your life: to let go of your trauma.

"We'll call you once we receive another sign-up for a one-on-one class. Thank you for dropping by." The lady waved her hand as you stepped outside.

You shrunk to the corner of the door, people are looking at you but you're too occupied to even give a damn.

It's been a week. You didn't know how to explain how you felt. Half of you felt happy that you hadn't received a call yet, because that would only means you didn't have to do it anymore and there wouldn't be anymore skin contact for you to trigger your trauma. However, the other half of you felt disappointed. You would have been lying if you said that you didn't get your hopes up, thinking that this would be the way to be finally free from your trauma.

"Still haven't received a call?" Your friend placed the pizza she brought on your coffee table. Today was the day she would usually pay you a visit to your apartment. She started doing this from 2 years ago, when you and your ex-boyfriend finally broke up.

You hummed in response as you dug out the box of pizza. Nevertheless, you don't want to bring your thoughts about the dance academy again.

A couple of minutes passed when your phone rang, causing both your heads to look towards your phone

"Hello?"

"Hi! Can I talk to Ms. Y/n s/n?" The voice over the line spoke brightly.

"Y/n speaking." You just answered back, looking at your friend who's anticipating a piece of good news.

"We just want to inform you that someone already signed up for the one-on-one class as your pair. The class will start this Monday, are you fine with it?" Your friend sighed in relief as soon as she heard it.

"O-okay. Sure." You felt a rush of anxiety travel throughout your body, as your fingers trembled hanging up the call.

"Hey, it's okay." Your friend wrapped the thick blanket around your shoulders before hugging you. Afraid that she might trigger your trauma. "You'll be fine." She tries to calm you down by rubbing your back.

2 days passed by quickly. Enough to make you coil up in bed instead of getting up. Your phone vibrates from an incoming message.

Dearest Jia: Take care later, okay? I know you can do it. I won't be able to go because of work, so I hope you understand:< but I'll pick you up when you're done! <3

You: I don't feel like going.

Dearest Jia: Noooo! You've come this far. You should go, I know you can do this!

You: Fine, I'll text you when I'm done with the class.

You tossed your phone on the bed as you grunt into your pillow. You're just glad your dance class starts at 3 in the afternoon. You still had a lot of time to prepare your body and mind.

Quarter to 3, you're already in front of the building, a few people going in at the same time. Probably for the group session. You wanted to go home but the lady called you out.

"Y/n! Please come in. I'll accompany you to the assigned room. I'm Daeun, btw." She extended her hand to you but you froze. You're too afraid. But someone else caught Daeun's hand. "I'm Taehyun, the one who signed up for the pair." A tall guy appeared on your side, shaking her hand. "I-i'm y/n." You meekly introduced yourself without touching any of them. The lady looked confused at first but she shrugged it off.

"Okay, I'll leave you two here, Mr. and Mrs. Hwang are inside already."

Taehyun pushed the door open, you were both greeted with a polished wooden floor and mirror walls in the wide room. Two people were sitting in the corner. They must be your instructors.

"Please come in!" The lady waved at the both of you.

"Do you know each other?" The man asked which the both of you only answered by shaking your head.

"I think we should start our class with an introduction. Don't you think?" The lady nodded.

"I'm Mr. Hwang and this is Mrs. Hwang. She's my wife and we mainly teach one-on-one classes. You are?" They turn their gaze to Taehyun.

"My name is Kang Taehyun. I also dance but not in this genre. So I wanted to learn this." They then looked at you.

"I... I am y/n. I signed up for the class t-to overcome my t-rauma." Your words are slurred, and your reason made your instructors gasp. "I-I used to be in a r-relationship. And t-they're the reason why I can't e-even touch people or let other p- people t-touch me." You bit your lip as you look up at them.

"Honey, but I'm afraid this dance requires a lot of holding and touching, what should we do?" Mrs. Hwang clasped both of her hands on her mouth as she turned a bit emotional.

"By any chance, can you hold someone when there's a barrier between them? Like, there is no direct skin-to-skin contact?" Taehyun spoke up, you nodded lightly at him. "It's been two years so I think I can tolerate it to an extent."

"Then I think we're good Mrs. Hwang. I'm thinking of using a glove or something. If that's what makes her comfortable. I don't mind at all." Taehyun remarked.

Taehyun ended up wearing gloves for your dance class. And as much as possible, he's avoiding any of your exposed body parts. He's also lightly touching you that you feel as though it's just air grazing your body.

So far so good, the 3-hour class ended up okay. Jia picked you up 30 minutes later after you texted her that you were done.

Your dance class went well the next day. And the day after that. And the following days after that. Days became weeks, weeks became months. It's all going well, with Taehyun's careful assistance over you.

Today was the day you decided to step further to your goal.

"Taehyun, I think we can now stop using the gloves. We've been dancing for a month now and I hate it whenever I think about the gloves. It feels like I'm being disgusted by you or something." You stated to Taehyun once the two of you were on a quick break. Within one month, you grew closer to Taehyun. The quick breaks were your time to tell stories to each other.

"Are you sure? You're not making me feel like any of that, by the way. But are you sure you can do it now?" His eyes seek yours. You simply nodded as you removed your jacket leaving you with your t-shirt on.

"Are you two, okay? Shall we continue?" Your dance instructor asked, checking on you, as you and Taehyun stood up. Taehyun discarded the gloves he was using on top of his bag as he folded his long-sleeved t-shirt up to his elbow.

You started off well. Taehyun holding your hand as gently as he could as usual. Letting you turn around with some quick footwork. It was all good actually, until he needed to lean in, holding your waist and your thigh. One more turn, his arms and fingers graze through your arms. His delicate fingers holding your waist once again. A quick turnaround. A step faster. A more closer proximity.

"You fucker! Come back here! I know what you did!"

"S-stop! We're already over Han!" You squealed as you blocked the door with your body.

"You're fucking dead meat when this door opens!"

Your tears wouldn't stop flowing from your cheeks as you kept your body pressed on the banging door. Han has been your boyfriend for 9 months now. At first, he was so good to you, treating you like the princess you deserved to be. But it was too good to be true that you started to feel it was wrong. Just 2 months ago he started hurting you physically and abusing you sexually. He was too obsessed with you too that he sometimes he would start locking you up in your apartment. Even your requests got declined. At first, you let it pass as you thought it was normal. But you started earning bruises and wounds. You barely ate, barely drank, you even barely slept. You would often get fevers too. The slightest noise would make your soul jump out and the slightest movement would make you flinch.

Jia, your friend, was the one who advised you to report him. So you did, that was why he was here banging at your door.

Han's voice can no longer be heard, hence you decided to quickly hide in your closet, as you dug out your spare phone you had hidden to contact your friend.

You quickly called Jia, telling her to call the police or something but you were cut off when the door bursts open. Han was holding a gun and laughing hysterically.

"Fuck you, you bitch! You're really dead!" You quickly covered your mouth.

"Come out, kitten. Come out from wherever the fuck you're hiding!" His voice echoed through the room drowning your quiet sobs.

That's when he forcefully opened the closet you're hiding. "Ohhh, you look so scared kitten, why?" He cooed at you as his lips stretched to form a mocking grin. "Move to the bed!" You shook your head. "Fucking move to the bed!" He fired a warning shot at the mirror, crashing it. You yelped at the noise. With your trembling body, you quickly scrambled your way to the bed covering your bruised-up body.

"Strip." He commanded as he pointed the gun at you. With no choice left, and your life at stake, you did what he ordered.

He crashed his lips on yours harshly. When he noticed you didn't kiss him back, he slapped you. Blood flowed through your lips as you choked on your sobs. With the gun still pointed at your head, he started harassing you again. His hand left a bruised mark on your neck as he tightly squeezes it. You could almost see the white light as your weak body just let him do anything. There was no use thrashing around as if you had accepted your dying fate.

"Freeze!" Was the only thing you heard before everything around you went black.

You opened your eyes inside the hospital, pulled every apparatus attached to your body and started screaming. It made Jia scream out and call for a doctor. They couldn't calm you down so they needed to give you a shot for temporary sleep.

Everything came swirling back to you. Pushing Taehyun away, causing your body to crash on the wooden floor. "Shit!" Taehyun cursed under his breath as he hurriedly pushed back his sleeves and wore the gloves again, picking up your jacket at the same time, before coming back to you. Your instructors let out a shock gasp as they also rushed over to you.

"Please grab a blanket or any thick clothing!" Taehyun shouts as he tries to ease you by covering your shoulder with your jacket.

Mr. Hwang passed Taehyun his padded jacket he always brought with him. Taehyun carefully wrapped the thick jacket around your body. He holds your face as he tries to soothe you.

"Y/n, look at me, please look at me." Sweat started to form on his forehead as tears freely flowed down your cheeks. "Please, look at me, and breathe slowly. Breathe slowly. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale." Taehyun guided your breathing as his glove-cladded hands rubbed your cheeks.

Mrs. Hwang was panicking but Mr. Hwang tried to calm her down before he went out to grab a glass of water.

Your heartbeat slowed down for at least a bit. Taehyun guiding you helped somehow as you slowly calmed down. Taehyun got the water from Mr. Hwang and held it in front of you as he let you sip on the water slowly.

"Are you feeling okay now?" Taehyun tucked your sweaty hair behind your ears. His eyes were full of worry. "Do you wanna go home and rest?" He's still carefully rubbing your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have removed the gloves. That was too risky." Taehyun mumbled as he hesitated to hold your hand.

That same afternoon, he called your friend over. He introduced himself and explained the situation. He let your friend take you home as he bid you two goodbye. You're lucky it was Friday at that time so you don't have to worry about waking up the next morning to go to your dance class. For the next two days, you spent it caving in your room. It helped you calm down.

Monday. You opened the door. You laughed at the scene in front of your eyes.

"What's that?" You chuckled as you placed your bag on the corner. Taehyun looks at himself in the mirror. He's totally covered. He's wearing a thicker glove and a padded jacket. His usual dress pants are now sweats. He's even wearing a mask. He scratched the back of his head.

"Pft. That's too much. Don't worry I'm fine now. Thank you by the way." You smiled at him.

"Are you sure? Because that scared me. I don't know what to do." He removed his jacket along with the face mask and the thick gloves.

"Mhm, I'm sure." You assured him.

"Okay then. We'll try again. Slowly this time." His eyes are full of concern as he looks at you. You smiled at him as you accepted his hand.

For another month, Taehyun tried to connect with you. Stopping whenever needed. Wearing the things he needs to wear whenever he can sense your anxiety rising. For once, you realize how he gently holds you. How he's always careful with you, treating you like a fragile glass that would easily break if you weren't handled correctly. One month passed without much problem. If anything, you're actually growing accustomed to it.

For some reason, you learned to feel comfortable with Taehyun's touch. The graze of his skin, his fingers, and his touch never terrified you anymore, and his existence no longer made you panic.

Now, he's solely the reason why you're still attending your dance class. You're slowly putting your trust in him. You're slowly putting your walls down. He can now hold your hand without fear. He can now dance without thinking that you would startled. He slowly introduced you to the steps that requires your body to be closer. Teaching you how the steps are supposed to be done. You're no longer panicking. Even when your face is just only few inches from him, you were actually smiling at each other. You no longer feared his touch. If anything, he's only leaving you all tingly with his warm skin.

You could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Whenever you leaned on his chest, it made your heart flutter. His breath on your shoulder, your neck, any part of your body makes the knot in your stomach twist tighter.

You're slowly craving for his touch. For how he cares for you, for how he tends to you. Whenever you're home, he keeps popping into your head. How his sharky smile appears whenever he's happy. The small noises he made. His cat-like attitude. He's the perfect example of hot, sexy and cute.

Every last week of the month, you would have all the time to yourselves to gather all your skills acquired. Because every once a month, you had to show what you have learnt in class. This now left the two of you alone in the dance studio. Perfecting every step and move you needed to show on evaluation day.

Taehyun's lingering touches left you all tingly. His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine. His breath alone makes your mind go in a twist.

"One step back, two steps to the front... One turn and... Lean you down." He's matching his words on every beat of the step. You thought it only happens in a fantasy world. But it was like the world stopped when his eyes were fixed on yours. His steady breath makes you hold yours. His eyes traveled down to your lips as he gulped. He mumbles a soft "You're pretty," before pulling you back to stand on both your feet.

His hands are both on your face as he slowly backs you to the mirror. His breath is unsteady and warm. The moment he got you pressed on the mirror, he leaned his forehead on yours as he closed his eyes.

"You're really pretty. So pretty I'm afraid I can't control myself." He whispered. Your hands were on his chest, you felt how his heart was thumping so hard.

"S-should we head out early?" You whispered, your hot puffs of breath touching his lips got him reeling as he cursed under his breath.

He quickly pulls away, holds your hand and grabs both of your bags. Both heading outside to his car. "Tell your friend I'm taking you home instead." The air in the car throughout the drive was so thick. His hands were gripping on the wheels, tapping impatiently when the road slowed down.

"Calm down, Tae, I'm not going anywhere." You chuckled as you placed your hand above his when it was resting on the gear shift. He throws a quick glance at you. He bit his lip as a flush crept up on his cheeks.

The drive was short, but Taehyun's action made it look like it was not. He hurriedly got out of his car, running over to your side to open the door for you as he held your hand. His jittery steps were heavy as you both made your way to his humble home.

"Come in." He nervously spoke as he placed his shoe on the rack, switching the light on in the process.

"D-do you want a drink or something?" He was almost running towards the kitchen.

You flop on his couch, making yourself comfortable at some point. "Come here, instead," you chuckled, "You're so anxious for no reason, Taehyun." He sat down beside you, wiping his sweaty palms on his dress pants as he sighed. You scoot over, holding his face, lips just a few inches apart.

"Wait," he pushed you a bit, "a-are you sure about this?" You nodded and smiled at him. "G-give me a minute." He rummaged through his back pocket pulling a handkerchief. You looked at him confused.

He unfolded the handkerchief and gently placed the thin fabric on your lips before crashing his lips on yours. He holds your nape as he climbs up on the couch. He slowly laid you down. Lips unmoving, yet it feels so hot. His lips were just merely pressed on yours with the fabric separating both of your soft skin.

He pulled away, kissing your forehead. "I'm sorry." He whispered as if he was the one who did you wrong. You gently pull the handkerchief away as you tangle your fingers in his hair. Taehyun never failed to take care of you in the most gentle way possible. He's not thinking of his pleasure at this point. He's thinking about you. To the point that he even thought of putting a piece of cloth between your lips just to be able to kiss you.

You wanted to cry at how he's taking care of you. Your eyes welled up with tears as you pulled him back. "I'm good now Tae, thank you for taking care of me. There's no need for the hanky." You whispered before your tears rolled down your cheeks as you kissed him, bare.

He's a gentleman. He's too good to be true. But you let your walls fall down and let him enter. You let him protect you instead. But his hungry kiss spoke thousands of emotions. His kisses travel down to your neck.

"Taehyun..." You whimpered as you gripped his hair.

"A bit more... Just a bit more..." He started sucking and biting your neck and shoulder, leaving splotchy red marks. He pulls away for a while, enough time to tug your shirt off your body.

His fingers slowly traced every scar you have on your body. The marks on your chest from the bottle Han once threw at you. The cigarette burns on your stomach. He also pulled down your skirts only to see stitches from your thighs. You got this when Han pushed you down the stairs. His finger draws back to your lips. The scar from the cut when he slapped you is still visible.

You covered your face out of embarrassment. You no longer look pretty with your all bruised-up body. "We can't do this here." Taehyun got up and carried you all the way to his bedroom. He laid you carefully as ever in his bedroom.

The bed dips down at his weight as he kneels between your legs. His head dips down to kiss every scar you have on your delicate body as if he's kissing your trauma away. He took his precious time. Not wanting to scare or startle you at any point. His actions are being done with all tenderness.

"Do you still want me to continue?" He asks when he hovers above your body, his elbows on both sides of your head. "I want you Taehyun, please do..." You whined biting your lip. "How can I say no when you say it like that, sweetheart." He sighed leaning his forehead on yours again. Your arms crawled under his shirt, feeling his toned body hiding beneath the soft cotton shirt he was wearing. "C-can you take it off? I feel so exposed." You mumbled as you tugged his shirt. "Ah, shit, I'm sorry." He quickly backed up to discard his shirt on the floor.

You stared at him when he was all fours above you. His body is totally toned. You can clearly see the firm muscles on his arms. His buff chest and his perfectly defined abs. "Touch me. I won't stop you. Touch me so you won't feel embarrassed anymore. Touch me so you won't feel as if I'm taking advantage of you. Touch me so you won't feel scared." He grabbed one of your hands and placed it on his chest, slowly dragging it down to his abs.

When he lets go of your hands, you continue to drag them down to the waistband of his dress pants. "C-continue..." His eyes were shut close, his lips trapped between his teeth. You can clearly see his abs tightening as he clenches with the graze of your finger on his waist. He gulps when you hook your finger inside. You unhooked the clip that's binding his pants and pulled the zipper down. His breathing hitched at the lingering touches you're leaving on his lower body.

You gently stroked him as you looked for his eyes. His lips were swollen at how he was biting it. "You won't let it out?" You tried taunting him. "Fuck..." He lets go of his long-held breath, hissing through his teeth. "Y-you're making me crazy, sweetheart... You're totally making me crazy..." He huffed as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Condom?" You asked. He reached into the small drawer just beside your head, pulling out a packet of condoms. "D'you wanna p-put it in f'me?" His words were short, and he was catching his breath. You gently rubbed the head of his cock as you rip the packet with your teeth.

"S-sweetheart, you're... Shit... You're k-killing me." He shuddered when you pressed at his slit, his jaw clenched tightly, his hand grasping the sheets.

You slowly drag your fingers on his cock as you wrapped it with the condom. "T-take your time... I w-won't do anything to hurt you or...ahh... or m-make you s-scared of me." He's struggling to hold back but he's doing his best. As soon as you were done, you tangled your fingers on his again, pulling him for a kiss. A kiss full of care. Gentle. Delicate. Sweet.

He pulls away, caressing your face once more. He pulls your underwear in one swift motion as he lines himself up on you, slowly pushing in. He continuously soothes you by rubbing his thumb on your cheek. "Don't be scared, hm? I'm here. It's just me..." He keeps on mumbling, repeating the same phrase as you nod back at him.

Once he has bottomed out inside you, he stays still as he continues to plant soft kisses on your face. You were tearing up not because of the trauma anymore, but because of the love and care he's showing you.

He unhooked your bra as he gently groped your breast, his fingers flicked on your nipple as he suck on the other. "Mmm..." You whimpered underneath his big body squirming at how his tongue danced on your nipple. He didn't take long, afraid that he might hurt or trigger your trauma.

"C-can I move now? I might end up c-cumming now. You've been clenching f-for some time..." He muttered under his breath. You nodded and covered your face again.

He pulled both of your hands and intertwined your fingers with him above your head. "Please don't cover your face. You're beautiful. You're still pretty even with your scars. You're still gorgeous even with your fear and trauma. Please... Just let me take care of you. I know it'll be hard for you, but I promise. I promise to hold you dearly and cherish you." His eyes were looking for answers.

"Taehyun... Please... Please take care of me from now on. Please hold me when I feel scared... Make me feel loved..." Your silent weeps were drowned as he kissed your nose. "I'll be your peace, sweetheart." He wiped your tears as he slowly thrusts in you.

"I... I promise to hold you as gently as I can... But... I think I might end up g-going hard right n-now." He buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Your arms reached over his back as your nails dug and dragged over his bare back. "T-Taehyun..." You moaned out his name as you writhed in pleasure beneath him. The slow thrust becomes a little bit more sloppy. The skin slapping echoed through the solitude of his room.

"Fuck. Please forgive me if e-end up going t-too hard. But I promise to d-do my best to hold b-back." He grunted as his thrust went harder. You shook your head wanting him to go harder.

"I-i can't hurt you... I w-won't..." He steadies the way he thrusts inside you making the knot on your stomach tighten as you feel your high just around the corner.

You held him as if your life depended on him, "Taehyun... I'm close." "D-do it, sweetheart. I'm g-gonna cum any m-minute." He pressed his lips on you to drown your moans as you both came. He rubbed your waist as he soothed you before pulling out. Tying the condom and disposing it in the bin, zipping up his pants at the same time.

He bends down to kiss your forehead as he grabs a pack of wet wipes cleaning you up. He picked up his shirt and made you wear it. He finally laid beside you as he pulled you on his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" He checks on you, to which you replied by shaking your head and a smile. "Sorry for going too hard, I did my best to hold back," he mumbled as he kissed the top of your head. "I'm okay Taehyun. Thank you so much." Your eyes finally close as his warmth embraces you. He hums while still hugging you close to him.

"Please rest now, sweetheart. When you wake up, you no longer have to suffer anymore. You're safe with me. You're finally safe with me."

@binniesbooks 2024

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - snippet - COD

CHAPTER ONE IS OUT <3 TUMBLR OR AO3

This is a snip of the first chapter for my upcoming wip fic 🫡 yes I have 20+ other projects, no I will not stop myself. This is not really checked for mistakes and stuff will probably change in the actual first chapter of the fic. But here u go, a snack for my sinners.

Word count: 2.5k-ish words

Hybrid!Reader x Price, reader x kinda poly141 later in fic, more to come

Small summary: This is an AU with Price becoming a farmer, hybrid dog!reader as a spoiled pet who doesn’t want to live this country life and hybrid working dogs!Gaz, Simon and Soap, who gets bought by Price. Chaos and smut ensues. Anyways, there won’t be this much in this snip.

Minors do not interact. I will block you if I can’t see any kind of indication of age on your blog.

Cw: There is the whole aspect of holding hybrids as pets, there is violence and punishments in this snippet, being hit with a belt. there is smut at the end (not much). Reader has a pussy, she/her. Reader is chubby but I tried my best to keep other descriptions vague.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the lack of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was hard to describe.

Out here, at the new farm, the noise came from animals that lived in the stables and barn, the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind tickled the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

Here the stress wasn't like in the city. Sure, there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, it was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - he had gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much happier.

It was like the farm had made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure, legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this!

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked around the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried. You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid. The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking Rudy and Ale.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed.

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate.

You fucking hated the crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

[buckyshoneybunny]

Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes + Curvy!Reader 

Summary- It's your birthday and Bucky wants to make it special 

W.C.- 1122 

Warnings- reader has adhd, fluff, metions to smut, 18+ please no minors, cursing. 

A/N- Today is my birthday!!! Sorry I have been inactive; I’ve been busy and sick and just no motivation. I do have a fall fic coming!! I realized a couple of days ago I could have done kinktober but oh well. I have so many ideas and wips but not enough time and motivation. Anyway I do hope you like it and be on the lookout, I’ll try to get more stories out. Until next time my loves! (Thank you for the love!!!)  

Masterlist 

Bucky’s heart fluttered as he watched you sleep, your hair glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming in, though knotted. He brushed some hair behind your ear, peppering your face with kisses and causing you to stir. 

Eyes still closed, you smiled and snuggled further into Bucky’s side, causing him to chuckle softly. 

“Happy birthday, doll,” he whispered into your hair. 

You hum and bury your face in his neck. “Thank you,” you mumble.  

“You’re welcome.”  He rubbed his flesh hand down your thigh, the metal one holding you close. You both laid there in the comfort of your shared bed, basking in the warmth for a little while longer.  

You savored the calm, relaxing mornings with Bucky whenever you could, holding on tightly and never wanting to let go. Being an Avenger, Bucky wasn’t always able to spend these few extra minutes with you in bed. So, when he did get a chance like this, he snatched it up and milked it for all its worth.  

He relished in the feeling of your fingers drawing mindless patterns on his bare chest, your warm breath against his neck, hearing your heartbeat and knowing you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. He felt forever grateful for you, and he was going to make sure you had a great birthday.  

A knock on the front door of your shared apartment popped the bubble of solitude you had going. 

“Who’s that?” You grumble into his neck, voice slightly muffled. 

“That would be breakfast,” he chuckles. 

“When the hell did you order breakfast?” 

“Before you woke up.” You hum and start to get up before he halts your movements. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he huffs with a smile. “I will get that and bring it to you. You keep your gorgeous ass in this bed.” He jumps out of bed before you can protest, but not before getting his legs tangled in the sheets and stumbling, causing you to giggle. He darts out the room, not bothering to put pants on, answering the door in his boxers.  

You quickly get up to pee and take your meds before he gets back. Just as you get settled back in bed, Bucky comes in with a try. On it was a neatly arranged breakfast from your favorite breakfast place down the road. You don’t eat there often, not wanting to spend a fortune for just two people, no matter how good said food was.  

You gasp softly and sit up so he can place the tray over your lap.  

“Oh Bucky,” you sigh. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl,” he sat down next to you on the bed and kissed your forehead. “Dig in, baby.”  

You start shoveling food in your mouth, moaning at the taste. You of course share your special breakfast after learning he hadn’t ordered anything for himself. He denied, of course. But after a few empty threats he agreed and started to eat.  

You were full by the time your ADHD meds kicked in. Bucky took the tray away and you curled back up, ready to go back asleep. 

“Oh no ma’am you don’t,” he said, pulling the blankets off you. “You need to get ready. Nat and Wanda will be here at nine, which is-” he checks the clock. “-In 40 minutes.” 

You huff and pout. “Can’t we just stay in bed?” You bite your lip and run your hands down his chest, the muscles tensing the lower you go. He stops your movements right as your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers.  

“As much fun as that sounds, you have a big day today, so up you go.” He effortlessly lifts you out of the bed. 

You laugh and start to get ready. You dress in the blue jeans that hug your hips and thighs just right and make Bucky’s knees weak. You put a white fluffy sweater and thick heeled black boots on. While you brush your teeth Bucky braids your hair, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he focuses.  

By the time you were ready the girls were out there waiting. With a kiss to your lips and his card in your hands because, it’s your birthday and I wanna treat you. You were off. You went shopping, got your hair and nails done, the works.  

You had an amazing day, the most fun in too long. By the time you were done you were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to take a hot bubble bath with Bucky and have a little fun in bed. But of course, he had other plans.  

As you, Natasha, and Wanda walked into yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, shopping bags in hand. It was abnormally dark, confused you turned on the lights and screamed, Natasha recording the whole thing. 

“SURPRISE!!” Everyone yelled and laughed at your reaction. All the Avengers were there, even Thor. Clint, his wife and kids, Sam and Steve, Tony and Pepper, even T’Challa and Shuri were there, everyone was there. 

But what caught your eye was the big, grinning goofball standing in the middle of it all holding a ‘happy birthday’ sign.  

“Did you do this?” You laugh. He nods and you hug him. He wraps his arm around you, the other holding the sign. “Thank you” 

“You’re welcome, doll,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. 

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands together. “Let's get this party started!” He pulls out two bottles of Whiskey.  

“Tony no-” 

“Tony yes!” He interrupts Steve. 

After a few glasses of Whiskey, many chimichangas, courtesy of Deadpool. A piece of cake, and many, many expensive and one-of-a-kind gifts later. You stood in the corner watching all of your friends family dance and party. You felt very grateful to be a part of this chaotic bunch of people.  

Bucky comes up next to you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist, tipsy from the Asgardian mead Thor and Loki had brought.  

“Hey doll,” he slurs. “Did you have a good birthday?”  

You nod. “I did, yes,” I smile. “Thank you, baby.”  

“The night’s not over yet,” he wiggles his eyebrows, a knowing smirk on his face.  

“James!” You scold playfully. “We have guests over!”  

“They won’t notice, come on.” He was already leading you to the bedroom. “Just 30 minutes.” 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, not bothering to hide your smile. “But only 30 minutes.”  

“Scouts honor,” he grins.  

45 minutes later... 

“Where is Bucky and Y/N?” Steve asks.  

“Fucking like the rabbits they are,” Tony slurs, absolutely hammered. Steve chokes on his drink, turning red.  

People say that birthdays and holidays get less fun as you get older, but with Bucky, you couldn’t wait to see what he was gonna do next. 

[kissingghouls]

hi ghouls! so sorry you've had such a rubbish weekend. i hope this week is much brighter for you 🫂💕

for the ~cute interactions~ prompts: maybe something with mary holding hands/playing with each other's fingers? my mary heart yearns for something soft 😭 sending you love 💕

oh boy. This one got away from me more than once and now I've got several Mary WIPs in the folder. more Goore '24 continues I suppose. @sakuraspoke - you can absolutely have some soft Mary my beloved. thank you so much for the kind words 🖤🖤🖤

2 a.m. - Mary Goore x gn!Reader

established relationship, he/they Mary, darlin & babe used for Reader. a little suggestive but no real warnings. just 850-ish words of fluff and kissin' div by @gothdaddyissues 🖤🖤🖤

It’s late when Mary quietly tiptoes into your apartment and moves through the shadows. They’re trying not to make any noise, taking slow but giant steps to avoid the creaking spots in the floorboards while balancing that ridiculously heavy guitar case. But your boyfriend—sweet as his is—has always been blessed with more charm than grace and it’s a good thing you weren’t really asleep anyway.

You stir from your spot on the sofa, lit by the soft glow of some gruesome true crime story playing on the television. The sudden movement startles them and sends them stumbling over their own feet in a comical display of flailing limbs. He lands with a loud thud as one of his boots flies across the room, the other still secured to his foot.

A sheepish smiles creeps across his face as he looks up at you from the floor. “I’m sorry, babe,” he whispers, trying desperately not to laugh at his own clumsiness. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“It’s ok,” you reply sleepily. I wasn’t sleeping.”

He nods and returns to the task of taking off his other shoe. “What’re you doing out here on the couch?”

“Just watching TV.”

He grins and shakes a few messy strands of hair away from his face. “Are you waiting up for me?”

You give a noncommittal shrug as he crawls on hands and knees, dragging himself the short distance across the floor to reach you. He comes to rest with a groan, leaning against the sofa as he stretches his legs as far as he can after a ridiculously busy day.

“Ugh, I’ve been standing for like, twelve hours.”

“Poor baby,” you hum and run a hand through their hair. There’s no teasing is your statement. You know Mary hates days like this. You hate days like this, hate seeing them so exhausted they’re literally crawling on the floor. “Wanna come sit with me?”

They shake their head. “Can’t move. Plus, I kinda smell disgusting darlin.”

“I kinda don’t care, Goore.”

“Your funeral,” he grunts as he stands.

He throws himself over you, wedging his skinny hips between your back and the sofa. His skin is slightly sticky with old sweat and fake blood, shirt still damp from playing in a bar where ventilation is more of a joke. Most of that cologne you like is covered by the thick smell of smoke and beer, but you couldn’t care less now that he’s home. As he drapes an arm around your middle, you lace your fingers with his.

“Better?” you ask.

Mary tightens his grip and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Mmph, you smell nice.”

“Makes one of us.”

“Hey, I tried to warn you.  Not my fault you didn’t listen.”

Across the room, the narrator of a different program begins to talk about happier things while you lose yourself in the comfort of just being next to Mary. You run your fingertips over the thick calluses on his hands, appreciating every little piece of your boyfriend—the rough spots and the sweet spots and everything in between. It doesn’t matter how late it is or how dirty his clothes currently are. You live for the little moments like this, the times where you’re the only two people in the universe and the world outside your apartment no longer exists. You’d stay here forever if you could, but reality is cruel and one of you should probably be a realist.

He groans as you press your thumbs into his palm and start to massage away the aches he’s kept quiet for the last week at least.

“Fuuuuck,” he whines quietly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I think you deserve the world, Mary Goore.”

They laugh lightly, breath tickling your ear. “I dunno, I might just start with a shower.”

“Fine,” you grumble. “Can you just stay here a little longer first?”

“I’m never going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

He pulls you closer, turning his hand over to lock his fingers with yours. “To our graves, darlin. Then I’m gonna haunt you.”

“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Hmm, romantic enough to get you to shower with me?”

“Yeah, I think you’ve earned it.”

“Heh. I mean it though, you know.”

“What? That you wanna take a shower together?” you tease.

“Well, yeah. But forever, I mean. You and me.”

“Mary,” you start quietly, voice shaking as you fight tears.

“I know, I know. Marshmallow Goore.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah?” they ask, and you can hear the smile in their voice.

A soft “mmhmm” is all you can manage as you nod.

“Good, because I really fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

You scramble to turn in his arms, lips crashing together in a clumsy and desperate effort to get even closer to each other. They bring their hands to your face as tongues clash and your legs begin to tangle in the ensuing rush. It’s hurried and heated, too excited to be anything else and too soul-bearingly honest for any more words. There’s barely space for breaths between each kiss, the two of you left dizzy and lightheaded all the way to your bathroom.

I just wanna add a thank you to everyone who's sent prompts & requests. I'm having fun learning how to make things in these shorter forms between my normally huge projects. I might properly open up requests in the future if anyone is interested?

[thatseitagremlin]

gremlyn's danganronpa: despair time x digimon au

born to draw / world is a fuck / blender em all / i am au man / 410,757,864,530 unfinished wips /ref

everyone in the image is in elementary school age. this started because i wanted to draw kid charles in a stupidly oversized lab coat and stupidly oversized square glasses and it spiraled into this (though the au itself has been in the works for far longer)

as usual, yapping about the au under cut! but there is a LOT of text down there holy Shit. allusions to Certain DRDT Character Development Spoilers; knowledge about digimon isn't necessary but will be helpful! :)

the au's bones / plot summary

ultimate titles and hope's peak academy do not exist in this universe. the tragedy never happened. everyone still has their respective talents, which helps some characters (e.g. min is a normal student living an average life) and hurts others

mai akasaki is this universe's first ever chosen child / digidestined. she encounters her partner digimon, makes all kinds of friends (everyone else in the pic except teruko) who she loves dearly (even if all of them drive her up the wall in their own unique ways), and eventually (high school age), all of them get isekai'd to the digital world!! they get to go on a fun adventure and improve as people and be closer friends!!!!!

until the part where mai dies an untimely, Brutal death during the final battle. which was Not Supposed To Happen. Whoops!

her death and the circumstances surrounding it cause her friend group to fracture, and most of them do not cope well at all.

i'll probably make a separate post for this, but tl;dr after the final battle; hu and ace initially stay in the digital world to clean up the final battle's aftermath, with differing outlooks on life -> charles has a breakdown + remembers his buried childhood memories, preventing him to function for a good while -> whit tries to take care of him just as he once did but his shitty coping mechanisms and refusal to acknowledge anything make the overall group disorder even worse -> david secludes himself in the digital world after a week of no contact -> xander tries looking for him and david avoids him. worst situationship in existence -> j and arei run away from their respective families and stay together. funniest situationship in existence -> arei realizes how fucked everyone is and is determined to honor mai's memory by keeping tabs on everyone and making sure her stupid friends will be alright

a few years after (depending on how old everyone actually is in canon— college age?), when things have somewhat settled and half of them (arei, j, ace, charles) have moved on, working for their futures, a message from mai's partner digimon is sent to everyone. it's something along the lines of "Bring* Teruko Tawaki to the Digital World and we'll revive** Mai"

*teruko would probably die in exchange

**they don't know and can't know in what form would mai Hypothetically come back in

teruko is just trying to survive with her scraggly cat who she definitely does not project onto. now she has to fend off a bunch of weirdoes with their own funny animals that are trying to?? kidnap her???????? her bad luck kicks in and an innocent stranger (eden) gets dragged into this mess too so she's morally obligated to let said innocent stranger get away as far as possible. (un?)fortunately, eden wants everyone to be happy, so she isn't leaving until teruko's safety is also guaranteed

teruko and eden get front seats to mai's friends having too many internal conflicts and moral crises about potentially sacrificing an uninvolved stranger's life to bring their friend back

i have no idea how this ends. i just want to do some Character Building (bullying my blorbos)

digimon & crest assignments (major characters)

people who at least know of digimon adventure will now notice that all of the digimon here are the baby forms of partners relevant in digimon adventure continuity. it is very much intentional! ^w^

in this universe, digimon partners are "reflections of their human partner's souls", and can be roughly categorized into three groups: those who resemble their human, those who resemble their human's ideal self, and those who are direct manifestations of their human's problems

it is indeed possible for one to project onto their digimon

everyone meets their digimon partners during childhood. since the digimon hatch and grow up in the "real world", they take a while to evolve, and seem to change along with their humans

also this is where i put the disclaimer. i use jp terms and names 95% of the time soryr if you grew up with the dub :pensive:

hu: puroromon -> morphomon, crest of love. happy little butterfly :> butterflies represent change and rebirth, but hu's partner can't evolve like everyone else's partners even after their adventure? even after all these years, morphomon is still stuck in her child stage? how strange...

(morphomon evolves to hudiemon in arc 2 after hu finally accepts that things have changed irreversibly and she has to move on from the past, too)

ace: tokomon -> patamon, crest of courage. the direct manifestation of ace's fears, fate has seen it fit to give him exposure therapy by making patamon a snappy little dog that evolves to a horse (unimon).

(patamon -> unimon -> manticoremon -> kentaurosmon? i can't decide the final stage quite yet, but since his character substansially grows in arc 1, he unlocks said final stage before the end of arc 1)

david: tsunomon -> gabumon, crest of hope. i had to give xanvid agumon and gabumon because... You Know. whatever they're having good luck with that shit! gabumon's thing about being a reptile that wears a beast's fur coat to seem tougher is a. masking thing. i think. gabumon also could behave like how david was as a child

(gabumon -> garurumon -> weregarurumon -> cresgarurumon. yellow. cresgarurumon is unlocked during the final battle but can't be accessed again until after david and xander finally have a successful mutually civil conversation)

xander: koromon -> agumon, crest of light. protagonist energy. agumon is like a second xander and they constantly enable each other

(agumon -> greymon -> metalgreymon -> blitzgreymon. red. blitzgreymon is unlocked during the final battle but can't be accessed again until after david and xander finally have a successful mutually civil conversation)

good place to mention that i could swap david and xander's crests (david light / xander hope) and it'd still work. i personally interpret light as living and valuing life, even with the destinies and purposes one is burdened with, and that's why i gave it to the man with the definition of survivor's guilt hidden in his bio. also haha david "dubious protag" chiem and the funny h word. i would need to blender these two longer to pin down their crests once and for all but i'm leaning towards david hope / xander light for now

j: mochimon -> tentomon, crest of integrity / reliability. the juxtaposition of cute, squishy mochimon vs a ladybug that emits ELECTRICITY that evolves to even COOLER and SCARIER bugs!? tentomon is also more sympathetic than j to contrast them being the most judgmental person in this cast

(tentomon -> kabuterimon -> atlurkabuterimon blue -> rhinokabuterimon. unlocked before the end of arc 1 when j starts being more understanding of others without renouncing their own moral compass)

arei: pyocomon -> piyomon, crest of friendship. piyomon used to be the snappier, harsher one to protect arei from her sisters, but as they grew up, it's almost like their personalities reversed somehow...?

(piyomon -> cockatrimon -> delumon -> griffomon. the only stage that can fly is griffomon. unlocked before the end of arc 1 after arei's ch2e13 speech)

charles: tanemon -> palmon, crest of knowledge. plant baby that i jokingly call "charles jr" in my notes, just because the thought of palmon being charles' lab assistant and wearing goggles + labcoat was really cute...

(palmon -> sunflowmon -> toropiamon -> hydramon. poisonous guys. probably unlocked before the end of arc 1? i'm still figuring out how charles' arc would work if he grew up with whit, because on one hand a friend would help him, but on the other said friend is Whit Young and all the backstory involved with him)

whit: pukamon -> gomamon, crest of sincerity / purity. gomamon is more responsible than her partner though she's still pretty chill. i want to make her behave like whit's (idealization and idolization of his) mom, but it's probably gonna take like 5 years until he says anything more about her

(gomamon -> rukamon -> piccolomon? -> marinangemon. piccolomon was the best link i could figure out between a dolphin and a holy-adjacent sea angel. also this man is NOT getting marinangemon until late arc 2 at least. he needs the entire party to talk sense to him)

mai: nyaromon -> tailmon, crest of miracles. for Plot Reasons tailmon is silly!monotv. goofy and self-deprecating and makes shitty jokes. disappeared after mai's death and returns after a timeskip to implore mai's friends to bring it teruko tawaki

(tailmon -> kabukimon -> ofanimon. it's a lucky coincidence that kabukimon happens to be a tailmon armor evo. final stage unlocked during the final battle)

teruko: nyaromon. it looks like one at least. it's totally a nyaromon guys it's just like mai haha -> meicoomon, crest of fate. a scared kitty :( the manifestation of what remains of teruko's wish to have friends and trust others. meicoomon also appears to drive other digimon berserk just by being near them for long periods of time; a variation of teruko's bad luck, and the reason why these two are basically bound to each other. since teruko's bad luck hurts other people and meicoomon's "bad luck" hurts other digimon

(meicoomon -> meicrackmon vicious mode -> raguelmon. you know. probably a late evolver?)

eden: petitmeramon -> solarmon, crest of kindness. she isn't here but she's the most important character who i didn't draw. Sorry Eden. but solarmon is also like a second eden and they constantly enable each other

(solarmon -> clockmon. it's not that eden isn't getting development, it's just that i need clockmon to be plot relevant and i don't know what the two stages after could possibly be.)

digimon assignments (minor characters)

everyone in this part is irrelevant to the larger plot but i didn't wanna completely leave them out, esp since thinking of their hopes peak-less backstories could be really fun!!

however i have No Idea about what digimon most of these evolve to aside from like. canon stuff

min: minomon -> wormmon. bookworms :>

rose: budmon -> lalamon. silly plant thing :> they're -_- and :o buddies. evolves to togemon

nico: bowmon -> loogamon. as a nod to survive, i think loogamon is the one partner who can't talk in human language, but is very expressive? and nico quickly learns how their partner communicates and how to communicate with their partner

veronika: pagumon -> porcupamon. i had to give her the Spooky Bear Digimon there was no other way around it.

levi: tsumemon -> bemmon. ourple. generally the "unnatural" / unknown digimon tend to be purple, i just picked bemmon since it's probably getting a new evoline in liberators soon

arturo: puyoyomon -> jellymon. i had Absolutely Zero Idea for this guy and settled on Ghost Game's bastard of a jellymon because i want them to beef with each other

backstories and situations

mai is a perfectly normal girl with a loving family and many friends. her partner digimon isn't a "partner" in the same way everyone else's digimon are, but rather an individual (hence the monotv-like personality) who "chose" mai to be the hero of a predetermined story. a story that would end in its heroes becoming better people, having hope for the future

not all heroes succeed, though

charles and whit are childhood friends! yippee! they've been friends and stayed friends throughout most of their lives :) elliot and whit's mom still die, and charles still forgets about the former and possibly the latter :) i wonder where whit got those coping mechanisms from aha :D

i don't have concrete ideas for anyone else's backstory yet Sorry

the digimon partners could pass off as plushies in their baby forms but most of the cast probably had to spill the beans when they evolved to their child-sized forms forms

ryan keeps tempting j to unleash tentomon everytime paparazzi annoy them, to which the only thing stopping j from doing so is tentomon himself. elliot bullies palmon in the same way he bullies charles (affectionately). elizabeth treats gomamon like an actual dog and their neighbors think the young household has a dog who loves swimming a lot. patamon and agumon are popular with their partners' younger siblings. piyomon actually has successfully attacked arei's sisters

i think it'd be really funny if eden is popular enough in town to inexplicably at least know about the non-relevant characters + their digimon, no matter how unlikely. maybe classmates with min and rose, met nico in a cat cafe and stayed in contact, levi works nearby, saw arturo and jellymon argue in public

i'm not a shipper by any means, so i can't and won't write explicitly romantic relationships. but if it helps, my initial thoughts for relationships were queerplatonic charwhit, jarei situationship where neither of them know or care wtf they're doing, xanvid broken pedestals and breaking up in every way possible, and hu + ace... whatever you call "most divorced pair of people despite 1) never marrying and 2) one of them being a gay man". feel free to do your own spin on things though!

also little fun tidbit: the digimon's base colors (except teruko's nyaromon) are colorpicked from digimon world championship sprites just as a fun little challenge, and the color-coded lineart is meant to showcase that they're digital lifeforms physically existing in the real world

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 42.1k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

We

We

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Male Reader!

Impromptu smut killing my friends led to this so enjoy me ignoring my WIP list and asks... I am not editing this... It's pure rough draft smut again 😂 I'm being tortured rn to post it lmao...

Alastor x MReader

CW: P in A sex, lots of talking from Alastor, radio broadcasting. No editing; no beta; we're going in raw, WE DIE LIKE ADAM!

(see Female Reader version here)

Here's...

Scream For Me

(Masc Reader!)

Alastor's eyes gleam with excitement as he obliges your request, to act like you're in a broadcast as he fucks you on the control panel.

His voice taking on the smooth, seductive cadence of his radio persona, the radio overlay seamless as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

"Welcome back to the airwaves, my dear listeners. We have a very special guest in the studio tonight - this exquisite Sinner! Who's been brought to his knees by the Radio Demon himself. He's got a mouthwatering pair of pecs, legs utterly divine and a swollen delectable cock that's just begging to be played with."

He reaches up, tweaking your nipples as he continues to describe your body to his imaginary audience, his voice dripping with sarcasm and lust.

"But the real treat here, folks, is his tight little arse."

Alastor grunts as he buries himself inside you, his fingers digging into your hips as he picks up the pace, his voice growing more urgent with each passing second.

"He's soaked, practically drowning in his own precum. And the sounds he makes, oh the sounds... They're like music to my ears, a symphony of lust and desire that has me on the edge of sanity."

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

"You're mine. My personal plaything. And I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever have before, right here on the airwaves for everyone to hear."

You moan, body trembling, needy swollen hole spasming, as you cling to him desperately while he takes you without mercy.

"I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't take it anymore."

As Alastor continues to narrate your intimate encounter, his words become more explicit and crude, pushing the boundaries of decency and fueling your mutual desire.

"Look at you, Sweet thing. You're a mess. Your hair's a mess, and you're covered in sweat and cum. But you're still so fucking gorgeous, so incredibly sexy. I can't get enough of you."

His thrusts become more erratic, his movements more aggressive as he approaches his peak, his voice rising in volume and intensity.

"I'm going to fill you up, Darling. I'm going to flood your arse with my seed, marking you as mine for all eternity."

Alastor's words send a surge of pleasure through you, and you moan loudly, your body writhing under his relentless assault. The thought of being 'broadcasted' to an unknown number of listeners adds a thrill to your encounter, pushing you further into the realm of ecstasy.

"Oh god... yes... I'm yours... I'll do anything for you..." You pant, your voice filled with desire and submission.

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. The sensations build within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

"I'm going to cum... Alastor..."

"And those nipples... So perfect for playing with while I'm balls deep inside you... Scream for me."

Alastor's words push you over the edge, and you cry out in pleasure as your body convulses in an intense, shattering orgasm. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to pound into you relentlessly as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over you, arse clenching hard, vision going white with pleasure, ropes of cum coating your chest as you spasm.

His grip on your hips becomes almost painful, his movements rough and uncontrolled as he chases his own release, driven by the sight and sound of you, the feel of you clenching around him making him make his own delicious sounds.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, he releases his seed deep inside you, filling you up, flooding you.

"And there it is, folks! The sweet sound of this sweet sinner's surrender. His body convulsing, his voice crying out in ecstasy as I claim him yet again. And now, I'm painting his insides with my seed, branding him as mine for all eternity."

As Alastor continues to speak into the microphone, his words grow more ragged, more primal, reflecting the intensity of his own climax.

"Feel me, Dearest. Feel my cum filling you up, making you mine."

His thrusts become slower, more measured as he savors the sensation of release, his body still convulsing with aftershocks of pleasure, cock and bals twitching.

"That's it, my dear. Take it all. Let every last drop of my seed fill you up, marking you as mine."

As Alastor finally stills, his body spent and satisfied, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his voice softening as he addresses you directly once more.

"You were amazing, Dear. Truly breathtaking. And remember, no matter where this journey takes us, you will always be mine."

He withdraws from you slowly, his cum trickling from your sated body as he moves aside to allow you to rest and recover from your intense encounter. As he does so, he reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust, affection, and pride.

"Thank you, Alastor," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from moaning and your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. "It was... incredible."

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth and love radiating from him. For the first time in your life, you truly feel seen, understood, and accepted for who you are, flaws and all.

"I love you," you murmur, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation or fear.

Alastor's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with joy as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, Dearest Heart," he whispers against your mouth. "Now and forever."

(unbeknownst to you, he had actually been broadcasting the whole time, not just pretending.)

[lexirosewrites]

hi, I’m LexiRoseWrites

(pfp made by @/itcanbepalped)

☆ you can call me Lexi or Lex

☆ 28, nonbinary, bisexual, autistic, ADHD

☆ they/he/she, but they/he preferred— gendered terms of any sort are fine with me!

☆ twitter/X: @LexiRoseWrites1

☆ my inbox is open and you’re welcome to ask me anything or send me a request! (I will delete hate/bullying sent, so don’t bother)

☆ please ask before writing about one of my posts! I am not a prompt generator, so make sure you ask first!!

☆ this is an 18+ blog because while I write lots of steddie and specifically omegaverse content, occasionally you’ll find NSFW things or a dead dove here (always heavily tagged) because I’m apparently the big scary proshipper you’ve been warned about

☆ blog navigation: #my fics, #my asks, #wip Wednesday, #throwback Thursday fics, #spreadsheet Saturday, #slick Sunday

↓ masterlist of ficlets and fics below the cut ↓

TUMBLR FICLETS

Steddie:

☆ Amnesia ☆ Card Games ☆ Dinner Reservations ☆ Handcuffs ☆ Lingerie ☆ Not Dating ☆ Serial Killer Soulmates: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Accidentally Summons a Demon: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Isn’t Coping ☆ Transfem Stevie ☆

Omegaverse Steddie:

☆ 24-Hour Diner: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Alpha-for-Hire Eddie ☆ Autistic Omega Steve ☆ Baby Mine ☆ Birthday Massage ☆ Bitchy Omega Steve / Lovesick Alpha Eddie: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Camboy Steve ☆ Everyone is a Beta ☆ Expectations ☆ Fake Dating Fertility Clinic ☆ Fate Binds Us ☆ Hairdresser Steve/Rockstar Eddie ☆ Health Class ☆ Hellfire Cult ☆ I didn’t know we were dating: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Infertility ☆ Kas Eddie ☆ Losing Control ☆ Nestless Omega Steve ☆ Older Steve/Younger Eddie ☆ Oral Coach Steve ☆ Pathetic Omega Steve ☆ Platonic Stobin ☆ Scent Blockers ☆ Speak Now ☆ Steve Gets A Puppy ☆ Such A Good Boy ☆ The Bachelor ☆ The Best Present ☆ The Reunion ☆ Time Loop ☆ Unknowingly Claimed ☆ Wealthy Steve/Busker Eddie ☆

General Omegaverse:

☆ Alpha/Omega Voices ☆ Basic Guide to Omegaverse Terms ☆ Bite Lore ☆ Rejection Sickness ☆ Scruffing ☆

AO3 FICS

All of my fics are steddie unless otherwise stated, mostly explicit and omegaverse, but check actual tags before reading anything please!

☆ Current WIPs ☆

A Million Dreams: A/B/O, circus AU, 2/4 chapters, 10k

Keep Digging (until you find my heart buried next to yours in the ground): A/B/O, archeology au, soulmates, reincarnation, 2/3 chapters, 17k

Scatter The Ashes: A/B/O, mafia AU, sequel to Watch It All Burn, 4/16 chapters, 18k

Waking Up In Vegas: A/B/O, accidental mating, rockstar Eddie, 5/15 chapters, 33k

☆ Unfinished (Series) ☆

Going For The Gold: A/B/O, ice skater Steve/hockey player Eddie, 18k

Jailbirds Can’t Fly: A/B/O, dead dove, prison AU, bitching, 12k

Keep It On Campus: A/B/O, college AU, 22k

Lucky Number 666: A/B/O, mafia AU, single parent Steve, 3k

My Heart’s Been Borrowed and Yours Has Been Blue: A/B/O, divorced kindergarten teacher Steve/tattoo artist Eddie, 25k

The Bunny and The Wolf: A/B/O, mafia AU, 154k

☆ Complete ☆

A Prince and His Pauper: A/B/O, medieval/royalty AU, stuttering Steve, 100k

All I Want For Christmas Is You: A/B/O, Christmas fic, 6k

And The Sun Will Rise: A/B/O, zombie apocalypse AU, 41k

Baby Mine: A/B/O, omega Eddie/alpha Steve, unplanned pregnancy, hurt/comfort, 2k

Bandaids (And Other Home Remedies): A/B/O, pediatric nurse Steve/single dad Eddie, 87k

Bleeding Heart: A/B/O, vampire Eddie/human Steve, 21k

Business Before Pleasure: A/B/O, Buckingham, Office AU, 16k

Exigency Contact: A/B/O, threesome, Steddie/Stargyle/Steddigyle, rockstar Eddie, 10k

Five Years: amnesia, 1k

Fragile (Handle With Care): A/B/O, soulmates, rockstar Eddie, 117k

He’s So Mean: A/B/O, high school AU, 3k

Let Me Be Your (Teddy Bear): A/B/O, bitching, 11k

Mad World: trans male Eddie, childhood friends, 3k

More of You to Love: A/B/O, chubby Steve, 4k

Never Be Alone Again: A/B/O, dead dove, stalker Eddie, 3k

Oblivious: t4t, mutual pining, 3k

On A Different Page: A/B/O, didn’t know they were dating, 7k

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind): A/B/O, soulmates, online dating, actor Steve/mechanic Eddie, 41k

Screaming Your Name In The Dark: A/B/O, dead dove, Kas Eddie, alternating past/present timelines, 27k

Silver: A/B/O, silverfox omega Steve/younger alpha Eddie, 6k

Tell Me About It, Stud: A/B/O, studding, 7k

The Rings Stay On: cis female Steve, 4k

The Start of Something Perfect: A/B/O, soulmates, 2k

The Stutter and The Freak: stuttering Steve, 14k

Touch Me: A/B/O, omega/omega, therapist Eddie/touch-repulsed Steve, 12k

Unholy Matrimony: demon Eddie/human Steve, 5k

Unsafe Bet: A/B/O, high school AU, dating as a prank, 65k