#turkey leg women

[dirtylowdown2]

Dr. Ross - Turkey Leg Women

[deerest-me]

*to the tune of Kettering by The Antlers*: if i had only knownn that first night that i'd watched, the irreparable damage you'd do to my brainnnn

THIS POST IS ABOUT A REALLY LOW QUALITY MOVIE i saw on an Indiana budget BROADCAST TV channel IN MARCH where a guy says ``I GET YOUR TURKEY LEG'' and i havent been able to stop saying it to myself ever since and i CANT find it anywhere no matter how hard i look

[aideshou]

i thought we had another new turkish guy...but he’s from jordan....he speaks arabic....but looks like taeyang ! *swoon*

[peachdues]

SANEMI V. NO-NUT NOVEMBER

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳

In honor of it being Thanksgiving in the US, I thought I would feed you all. Happy Turkey Day, skanks.

CW: MDNI. Explicit sexual content.

Let’s count the ways you’ve tortured him over the last thirty days

You would purposefully wait until he arrived back home at his estate before getting yourself off — in his bed, or in his private bath, so that Sanemi had to watch or feel you working yourself, whimpering his name as you imagined your fingers were his.

You’ve never seen a man wound tighter than Sanemi, coming home after a long night of fighting demons and having to put up with incompetent younger Corps members, who is greeted with the sight of his lover, in his bed, legs spread wide open as she plunges her fingers in and out of her wet and ready core, moaning his name. 

You also were fond of trouncing around his estate wearing little clothing — if any. In fact, you were far more fond of wearing nothing but his haori as you cooked for him. Sanemi thought you wouldn’t be able to resist him sidling up behind you and sliding his hands between its open folds to rest on your bare waist. He thought. 

As it turned out, you were more than happy to swat away his eager hands and resume chopping vegetables. Sanemi managed to hold in his groan of frustration until you bent over to pick up a stray piece of carrot that escaped the pot.

Not to mention it was his BIRTHDAY on the 29th and you wouldn’t so much as let him eat his favorite cake (your pussy) 

“But I’m not the one being pleasured, it’s you,” Sanemi’s voice bordered on a whine as he danced his fingers down the curve of your outer thigh.  You swatted his hand away. “Need I remind you that, on more than one occasion, you’ve had to change your clothes after spending time between my legs?���  Sanemi’s eyes are nearly bulging out of his head as you primly turn away from him, tightening the blanket around your half-nude form. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me —“ “Goodnight, ‘Nemi. Happy Birthday.”

But when the clock hits 12:01 AM December 1?

“If you think you’re walking out of this not pregnant — or that you’re walking out of here at all —,” he said severely, yanking you by the calves until your ass was pressed against his thighs. “Then you’ve got another thing fuckin’ coming.” 

Listen. Sanemi respects the fuck out of women, but you’ve been disrespecting him for the last month. He’s about to get MEAN.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Sanemi is going to need to purchase new furniture by the end of it; shit’s getting smashed by you two. The bed, dressers, tables, you name it, you’re getting fucked on it, and it’s getting broken. 

You are being edged to oblivion. If you whine or complain, it only makes the punishment that much worse (so does crying but he actually wants to see those big fat tears). Sanemi breaks up pace consistently to ensure this happens.  Also, he’s gonna cum as much as he wants, but you’re not until he says so.

And when he finally, finally lets you cum, don’t you dare think it’s over — now he’s going to overstimulate you until you’re sobbing (again)

“You think you’re done, sweet girl?” His saccharine coos made your stomach curl because you knew that tone meant he was being anything but sweet. “Like hell you are.” Sanemi flipped the pair of you over, forcing you to lay with your back against his chest, your arms pinned behind you. The hand not restraining you slid to your throat, gripping softly and tilting your head back against him as Sanemi began to thrust sharply up into you.  “I’ve had to watch you cum around everything but me for the last month, darlin’,” his teeth sank down into the soft flesh between your shoulder and neck. The wince you made at the sharp prick of his teeth was quickly chased away with a few soothing licks and caresses from his deceptively soft lips.  “So you’re gonna be my good girl and cum on my cock until I’ve decided you’ve had enough. Understand?” 

It gets to the point where you genuinely cannot tell apart the fluids on your skin — sweat, your cum, his cum, or your tears 

When he’s finally out of stamina (which is like. days later, RIP you), the last few rounds are much slower, and he’s much softer and clingier. Granted, he’s shooting blanks by then because he’s also overstimulated and exhausted, but he thinks he’s made his point clear enough. He’s actually asking you for just one more, and if you’re crying, he’s quick to kiss the tears away and murmur words of encouragement and love

“Fuck, baby,” Sanemi moaned, his feet digging into the plush of his futon as a means of giving himself leverage to push into you, his thighs and hips having long since lost the ability to work with the same vigor they had when he’d first bent you over. “You feel too fucking good to stop.”  You cried out, fists clenching against the painful pleasure your lover continued to bestow upon you. Part of you was desperate for him to stop, to rest, but your body kept betraying you, your legs tightening around his waist to hold him in place.  “S-Sanemi,” you whimpered, fingers digging into the ropey muscles of his shoulders, unable to decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. “No m-more — I c-can’t —“ “One more, sweetheart, just one more.” He cooed, bending his face low to brush kiss after kiss against your lips, swallowing your moans and whimpers. Sanemi braced his weight upon his fists, situated on either side of your hips as he continued to rock into you. His pace now was far at odds with the one he’d maintained over the last day or two, with the scar-speckled Wind Pillar forgoing his vicious, unrelenting speed that had you clinging onto the nearest piece of furniture for dear life in favor of something far softer and more gentle.  “You can do that for me, right?” Sanemi circled his hips. "Just one more, sweet thing, that's all I ask." 

And you give it to him; though there are big, fat tears leaking down your cheeks and though every nerve in your body is screaming for a break, you come apart around him once more. But Sanemi still isn't fully satisfied even though he's a groaning, cursing mess rutting into you, so his thumb works its way between your legs and presses down. Only when a surge of your sticky fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin, does Sanemi finally relax, his own climax rolling into him like a steady wave.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare through the window as hammering echoes through the glass. Despite the muffling of the barrier between you, it’s loud enough to put you on edge. Or maybe that’s because of the man calmly bringing the iron down on the nails. 

As if he can sense you, he looks up, his dark hair flopping back. You quickly spin away. You have to be going stir crazy. Bucky was just concerned. A lot of people come up this way and get freaked out by the wilderness. You used to when you visited as a child. 

You go back to the kitchen and take out the ingredients for your grandma’s classic turkey stew. It’s always a comfort as the temperature starts to drop. Still, it’s never as good as she made it. One day, you might figure out the secret. 

Cooking is a good distraction. There isn’t much to do up here. Often, you enjoy that facet of your existence. You work then disconnect and just do your own thing. Now you can’t help but feel the desolation. 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The hammering continues. You put the turkey into roast. It’s always better to season and cook it first then shred it up for the stew. You set the broth to simmer with the chunked veggies and pace the kitchen as you wait for it all to come together. 

You use a fork to pick the meat of the turkey legs and dump it all in the boiling pot. Another hour to meld together and it’ll be ready to serve. The longer you let it, the better. It’s always best the day after. 

The silence doesn’t hit you until you hear the back door. The smell of pine follows Bucky inside. You put your attention to the pot and stir it. 

He sniffs and sighs loudly as he enters. “Ah, smells delicious. Chicken?” 

“Turkey,” you correct him as he twists on the faucet and squirts soap into his hands. He lathers up and looks at you. “It’s funny. Back in my day, not to sound like a crotchety old geezer, women cooked. They had recipe cards on the counter. These days, half the girls I talk to can only use some app to order pizza that tastes like ketchup on cardboard.” 

“Oh, yeah? I kinda miss fast food,” you say dully. 

“Huh. ‘Cause I miss the home cooking. It’s just... simpler.” He shuts off the tap and shifts closer, drying his hand on the dishcloth as he looms. “If it hadn’t all gone to shit, I probably woulda found a good woman. Settled down, lived the good life.” 

“Right,” you nod awkwardly and set the spoon down.  

He clicks his tongue and turns, putting his hand on the counter as he leans on one foot. His other hand goes to his hip. “But then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair,” you say, distancing yourself as you step around him to get to the fridge. “I got some cider left over? Want some? It’s mulled. Julian down by the Rocks makes it--” 

“Think I’m good,” he says. 

You put the large glass jug on the counter and open the cupboard. Bucky catches it and shoves it closed with a snap. You face him in surprise. He’s strong. You know that but feeling it is something else. 

“Sorry, I... I’m in your way?” You wonder. 

“No, you’re right where you should be,” he says. 

You try not to lean away from him. Your heart is racing. You swallow and peer over at the dimming window. 

“I could help you cover up the lumber before--” 

“Already did that,” he interjects. “You know, I think I’m where I need to be too,” he edges closer. “Think after everything, I did find that good woman.” 

You blink, speechless. You can barely think above the tempo behind your ears. 

“I hear it.” He puts his fist to his chest and knocks on it. “I know you feel it too.” He stills his hand and holds it over his heart. “I was pissed when Sam brought me up here. Dropped me off like some stray dog. The longer I’m here, the more I realise he did me a favour. He didn’t dump me on you...” you wince as he pulls his hand away from his chest and opens it to cradle your face, “he gave me you.” 

“Bucky,” you latch onto his wrist but can’t move it. “I think we need some space. Don’t you?” 

“No,” he says flatly. 

“You spend too much time in the same proximity, and it starts to get weird--” 

“No,” he repeats. “I’m right. It’s perfect. You’re strong, you cook, you’re handy, not afraid to get a little dirty,” he slides his hand down to cup your chin. You flinch but can’t pull away. “And you got a nice ass.” 

“Bucky,” you breath and gently shove his chest. “I’m saying to you that you’re wrong. I’m flattered and all but no.” You push harder as he squeezes tighter. You whimper, “ow, let me go. I’m calling Sam-” 

“Shh,” his other hand swoops up to back of your skull. He lurches you closer, bringing you to your nose as he snarls down at you. “You’re not calling anyone.” 

“Bucky--” 

“It’s the way you say my name,” he growls. 

“Please, you’re hurting me--” 

He hushes you again as his thumb rubs behind your jaw. He turns you so your penned in against the counter. You splay your fingers across his chest, dragging them down to his stomach as you push on him. He stands unmoving. 

“Let go--” 

“You. Let go,” he insists calmly. “You built this wall around you. Let it down,” he drops his hand from your head and lets it trail down your back, “let me in.” 

“No, I’m telling you.” You squirm against him. “Stop this, right now.” 

“I know you want me. I found that toy. The little flower, hm?” He tickles along your side, your jaw aching in his grip. “You wanna feel the real thing? Huh?” 

“Please,” you clasp the fabric of his shirt in your fingers. 

“Doll, I want you think about this,” he buries his thumb behind your jaw until you whine. “You’re up here all by yourself. Lonely days, lonelier nights. Anyone could catch on. They could figure out just as fast as I did.” He leans in until you’re nearly bent backwards. “You need a man because any old beast could snatch you up.” 

Your eyes glisten and you search his face. He doesn’t look human. He’s animalistic. His eyes are dark and dilated and his jaw is set with slathering hunger. Your lip trembles. 

"Wouldn't you rather have the beast on your side, doll? Instead of tearing it down?” He purrs and shifts his hand around your chin, bringing his thumb up to poke at your lower lip. “I can be good for you, all you gotta do, is the same.” 

[male-readerwriter]

Johnny Storm x Male Reader

Title: BURNING LOVE!!

WARNING'S: Language, FLUFF, brief sexual thoughts, headcanons for Johnny Storm falling in love with male reader in the void, Romance

M/N= Male Reader Name/ Male Name.

First and third person POV

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

You were sent to the void after being caught stealing a rare diamond from a museum worth 35 million dollars, it wasn't the first time you've gotten in trouble for stealing- this was more like the 100th or 200th.

You were an international thief, you alone were able to pull off some of the most infamous and greatest robbery's ever. You were constantly in and out of prison but after this well- turns out they were sick of you breaking into places and stealing things so they ended up sending you to the void leaving you to rot with everything else they deemed trash.

You had heard of this place while in prison so you kinda knew it was only sooner or later until you were sent here but you never expected it to be this bad , things were constantly after you as if it wasn't bad enough that there was basically no food in this shit hole you had to deal with monsters, people, and animals chasing you trying to either kill or kidnap you to take you to some women named Cassandra Nova - who the fuck was that?

After a rough day of being chased by people and monsters alike you were getting exhausted and STARVING and you were suddenly getting very dizzy and you could have sworn you saw a man covered in flames flying through the sky fighting off the things chasing you, next thing you know you passed out.

You woke up to the smell of food and when you looked around and it was suddenly night time and you were in a place you didn't recognize, it looked like some type of hideout but nobody was their at least you thought. After rushing over to the food scarfing it down almost immediately a man's voice from behind you laughed saying "look's like someone's hungry".

Who the hell could that be? And what did he want, did he want to hurt me? Dropping the food out of my hand I turned around to see a muscular man in a blue shirt with a 4 on it, my heart skipped a beat. I was still terrified thinking of what he could do to me but damn was he sexy. He took a few steps towards me with his hand outstretched and a warm smile on his face- he seems friendly.

"Hey, I'm johnny. Nice to meet you" I allow him to take my hand, shaking it in a greeting manner "I'm M/N, sorry I was hungry" I respond. Something about this guy intimidated him in a good way.

"No, help yourself we got plenty" he giggles as he lets go of my hand, the smile this guy has is so warming it's lighting up my heart. My heart is beating out of my chest "how did I get here?" I ask taking a bite out of a big turkey leg.

He tells me how he found me and fought off the things after me then took me to his hideout, he says he stays here with a few friends he met who I soon meet named Elektra, Blade, X-23, and Gambit who was my personal favorite other than Johnny. After introducing themselves they all went off doing their own thing not wanting to overwhelm me, I continue eating more food still starving but Johnny stays by my side the entire time still chatting away. There's something about this guy that I immediately wanna cling to and he's not bad looking he can definitely manhandle me any time he pleases the- sorry got off track there, he's just that good looking.

We end up talking for 3 hours straight and I realize my dumb ass has already fallen in love with this man (even though I just met him) there was something about him and he was hot literally. I found out he was able to set his entire body in flames and he could fly all he had to do was say two little words "flame on".

He ended up showing me at a later time, he and his friends explained pretty much everything I need to know about the void then they told me I could stay with them but there was one little problem...

I had to share a bed with Mr. Johnny Storm.

I had no problem with that in any way shape or form neither did Johnny it seemed, though he had kept blushing the first couple of nights I shared a bed with him, after that he started acting a little awkward he'd start smiling everytime I came around, and he started playfully flirting I assumed. After a little while I started flirting back and every time I did he'd start blushing like crazy, which was really confusing considering the way he usually acted before he started flirting with me.

His behavior screamed fuckboy yet he wasn't a bad guy, he never acted like a pig he - seemed like a typical straight guy fuck boy. But he was the most perfect guy you'd ever met and it only made you fall for him more and more.

You assumed he was straight at least but one day when you were walking back into the hideout you heard everyone talking about you so you decided to stay hidden and listen. Somehow they figured out you had feelings for Johnny and before you could even be shocked by that Elektra commented how she knew Johnny had feelings for you as well.

You were flabbergasted, he felt the same way you did and yet he never knew the things you did, everytime he asked how you got sent to the void you changed the subject.

That's when you decided to tell him the truth, you were expecting judgment but surprisingly he was completely fine with it and he didn't care what you did saying you were still a good person at heart. After telling him that you found that it was much easier to open up to him and in no time you both confessed you have feelings for one another.

You were outside going for a walk with him playfully flirting with each other as usually when suddenly Johnny became quite. "Hey, what's on your mind?" You asked and before he could come up with some lame excuse he found himself saying "I have something important to tell you". That's when he told you he had feelings for you, he didn't just have feelings for you, he loved you.

"I'm in love with you M/N, I've been in love with you since the moment I first saw you're fine ass" he said giving your ass a nice smack, and that was the fuckboy part of him coming out but you still couldn't have been happier.

He asked you to be his boyfriend and you said yes, jumping at the opportunity to be in a relationship with Johnny. You were never this kind of guy to rush into some relationship all willy nilly but Johnny was different from any guy you'd ever met before, it was hard to explain -

He was just special, he was Johnny.

The others pretty much ended up finding out we were in a relationship immediately, even though we discussed not telling them at first but it was apparently way to hard for Johnny to keep his hands off me and keep his dirty jokes to himself. So everyone found out awkwardly standing around because Johnny was bad at keep secrets.

It happened I the morning-

He was the last to wake up and the first thing he did was wrap his arms around my waist and shove his head in the crook of my neck mumbling "Mornin babe" just loud enough for everyone to hear it and look over at us shocked we actually got together.

But after about a minute they got over the shock and congratulated us saying things like "about time" or Gambit trying to be sexual and make dirty jokes about the relationship but Johnny is always able to match his freak and make the same type of jokes back. Their banter is always fun to watch.

We all stuck together when we went out incase we had a run in with Cassandra Nova and her gang (I learned she was someone not to be messed with- she's professor X's brother and she's incredibly powerful so I'm the void that basically made her the HBIC and everyone feared her) Johnny liked to act like he wasn't scared of her and he had no problem voicing his hatred for her but I know him- if he had a one on one run in with her he'd most likely end up pissing himself.

There was never much to do in the void but he still tried to do special things for you, like date nights or a walking hand in hand at night when not many people were around to bother you both.

He seems like some typical fuck boy but you knew he was so much more, he was romantic and loved the attention you gave him literally any type of attention you gave him put a big smile on his face and a pink tint to his cheeks, he's such a dork.

He loves cuddles and so do you, it's both of your favorite thing to do to pass the time, well that and sex! you both are pretty wild in the bedroom, and luckily Johnny has a lot of stamina.

Whenever your together it's like time just stops and the only thing either of you care about is each other (you're so wrapped up in each other's little bubble, it's like you were made for each other) he never judged you for who you were even tho you were pretty much polar opposites and he's a hero and you used to be a villain -kinda- but that all changed after going to the void.

In this place you never know how much time you have like you can literally all die at any second, but it doesn't matter as long as you have him by your side you'd happily live in the moment and don't even think about what tomorrow could possibly bring.

He is my world, my human torch....

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Oop.

Literally had no idea how to end this so that's why the ending is so abrupt sorry- also sorry for any spelling errors I didn't proof read.

Hope it was at least a little enjoyable, I'll be better in the future I haven't written in a bit sorry- 🤣 FEM READERS, AND MINORS DNI! go away-

[sayruq]

In January of 2024, Dr. Bara Zuhaili entered Gaza on a two-week medical mission with a U.S.-based organization, Rahma Worldwide. Dr. Zuhaili dedicated most of his time to Shuhada' Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir Al-Balah, central Gaza. While this was not his first experience in a wartime or crisis setting — he had undertaken medical missions in Syria and was in southern Turkey during the earthquake — it proved to be his most horrific. As a vascular surgeon, he was tasked with assisting Gazan doctors in one of the ugliest tasks of this war: amputations. A generation of amputees has emerged, with over 10 children losing one or more limbs per day, on average, since the beginning of the war. Dr. Ghassan Abu-Sittah called it “the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history.” Even this statistic, reported by UNICEF in December of 2023, is now outdated. The true number of men, women, and child amputees remains unknown, with estimates ranging upwards of 10,000 people. It is a number that will continue to rise as new and unknown weapons destroy tissue and bone, crumbling medical infrastructures and scarce supplies force constant life-and-death decisions, while infections and chronic illnesses — largely ignored — silently kill or handicap thousands.

Is this the first time you've worked in a war zone or in a humanitarian crisis? Did any of them prepare you for this? It was not the first time. Unfortunately, I had experience in Syria, working in the underground hospitals in the besieged areas of Aleppo and Idlib. There, the healthcare facilities were also under constant attack by the Syrian regime. But Gaza was unlike anything I had seen before. To start, the supply chain was completely broken. Supplies were extremely limited in Deir Al Balah, where I was based for most of my stay. The hospital functioned at only 5-10% capacity compared to any similar hospital in the Middle East—I'm not even talking about an American hospital. Then, there were the number of patients. Just to give you an idea: Shuhada' Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir Al Balah is only equipped for 150 patients. Under extreme circumstances, they could maybe stretch to accommodate up to 200 patients. When I arrived, there were 950 patients, in addition to over 20,000 refugees sleeping in the corridors of the hospital and its complex. Every time we experienced a bombardment, we had anywhere from 20 to 60 patients rushing in simultaneously, in addition to the patients already being treated. It was completely overwhelming and overcrowded. The third issue had to do with the type of injuries. I've seen a lot of trauma before — traumatic injuries are not new to me — but the level of trauma I saw was something I've never witnessed in my entire life. When I was in the operating room, I would get a call from the ER saying someone was shot in the leg and they needed me as soon as possible. In my mind, someone shot in the leg with a bullet would have an entry size of about five to six millimeters and an exit wound size of about two centimeters long. That is what I was familiar with. What I saw in Gaza — which I had never seen before — was literally as if an explosion, an RPG, had exploded into the leg. The entry wound would be about five to 10 centimeters wide and the exit wound would be almost 30 centimeters wide. One bullet would destroy a diameter of 10-15 centimeters… all of the muscle, bone, arteries, and nerves were all gone, destroyed.I'm not a military expert, I don't know much about weapons. But I don't know what kind of bullet can cause that much destruction. With a bullet wound in the U.S., I could get away with doing a bypass to salvage the leg. In Gaza, there was nothing anyone could do to salvage the leg. The amount of tissue damage forced me to do amputations almost every single time. 

Can you describe what a single day would look like? As a rule, anytime a bombardment happened, we would wait between four to eight hours before we received any injured people. In Deir Al-Balah, we would see the missile hitting two to three kilometers away and we knew that there were many casualties, but it would take these people — who were only three kilometers away from us — four to eight hours to reach our location. The IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces) prevented any ambulances from entering the scene, and anyone attempting to help or approach would be shot. I had many cases where the ambulance driver would come to me holding two or three kids. They were dead, and he would swear to me they were alive four hours ago. We lost a lot of lives just waiting to reach us in the hospital. Our days typically began around seven in the morning, and even though the night was filled with attacks and bombardments, no casualties would reach us before the morning. By then, we would go to the ER and try to start the triage process: determining who needs to go to the OR first and who could afford to wait. We would then perform surgeries throughout the day, often not finishing until one or two in the morning. Sometimes, if I had time, I would do my rounds to check on the patients, and by late afternoon, we would have more bombardments and injuries coming in until midnight. Usually, by midnight, things slowed down… not because there was no bombardment, but because they couldn't reach us anymore.

[athenasdaydreams]

pairing: jess mariano x fem!reader

summary: jess does not want to, and would never dance. except this one time

chapter warnings: none to my knowledge!!

A/N: Guess what dumbass pressed ctrl z and deleted all her work so she had to type it out again. OKAY IT'S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR SINCE I POSTED OR SOMETHING BUT I GOT TIRED OF STUDYING AND DECIDED TO FINISH THIS UP TO TIE UP SOME LOOSE ENDS

You had your legs on a table of Luke's diner, and you could not fathom how anyone could ever be more bored than this. You had to sit through Liz Danes' bachelorette party. You could imagine anything that would have been better than this. Being out with Rory and Paris, talking to Lorelai, or even letting Michel show you pictures of his chow chows. Letting out a sigh, you went back to reading Anna Karenina while the middle-aged women were talking about women not being monogamous creatures. "Is this how turkey legs are supposed to look?" Luke asked with a pained expression on his face. Carrie, one of the louder ones, said something about him taking his pants off so they could see for themselves. As much as you hated it, their conversations were kind of interesting. "Get your legs off my table I've got customers eating on 'em," Luke scolded as he looked at the turkey leg in his hand, as if he hoped that it would tell him whether it was cooked or not. You put your legs down and continued reading.

"I need to get some batteries, I'll be back," Jess said as he walked down the stairs. He noticed you were at the diner and stopped in his tracks. "Didn't know that you liked spending your afternoons with middle aged women." That comment made Carrie and the other women gasp. "The old ladies I wanted to knit with were busy, so I had to find company."

"Good book though," He said while you hummed in response. "Jess, Jess! Come over here and meet my oldest friends!" Liz said as she beckoned him over. Jess looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. "Girls, this is Jess," Liz said proudly. A chorus of 'hellos' sounded. "Hello, handsome," Carrie said as she winked. You had to stifle a laugh for the sake of Jess. "He's going to walk me down the aisle! Is that cool or what?" Liz said to her group.

"It's no big deal," Jess said, trying to draw away attention from him. You found this funny. "It's a very big deal," you said with a dramatic look on your face. Jess gave an unimpressed look. At that time, a deliveryman walked through the door.

"Can I help you?" Luke asked with the confusion written across his face. "Got a package here." "From who? I'm not expecting anything?"

"It's a very important package," the deliveryman said with a serious look on his face. Luke stepped closer. "But there's no address on it?"

Jess smirked as he looked over to you. "I was going to go to the bookstore after getting batteries. Care to join?" he said, extending his hand to you. Looking for any way to escape this situation, you obliged. "Bye Luke, see you later."

"Have fun," Jess said with a laugh as you left the diner and heard a muffled "Have fun with what?!" as music started blaring from the inside.

-

"I was already having a bad day and then some guy had to spill his coffee all over my new blouse and my copy of crime and punishment," you lamented to Jess while you walked towards the bookstore which you frequented. "I didn't have enough money to get myself a new copy and a new blouse, so I decided to get the blouse because of my internship." Jess smiled at that. You were hardworking and diligent, while he was... less of that. You just got the coveted internship at one of the most competitive law firms in Connecticut, and you needed to make a good impression; a shiny copy of crime and punishment accompanied by a coffee stained lavender blouse wouldn't exactly do that.

The jingle of the door chime woke you from your thoughts about your precious copy of crime and punishment. Jess bent his head and didn't say anything to Kirk, the acting cashier, while you smiled and greeted him. You knew he wasn't one for politeness, so you tried to compensate.

"There's something I think you'll like." Jess meandered towards a shelf hidden at the back. You cluelessly trailed, wondering what book it could be. Knowing Jess, it could be a 2000 page book about a whale or a 20 page romance novel; the man read anything and everything with words on it. When he pulled a book off a shelf, your jaw dropped.

The blood-red lettering reading "crime and punishment" contrasted starkly to the obsidian binding that you ran your fingertips across.

"wow, this must cost a fortune, maybe i'll get it once my paycheck can get me more than one cup of instant ramen."

"let's go, i need to see what the guy at the diner did to luke,"

-

"does this dress look like too much?" you ask while twirling around in front of Lorelai. "no, this one is perfect. It makes you look like you'd be sitting in a tower waiting for your prince to save you from a dragon." You looked at her while she lounged on the couch in the house you had graciously invited yourself into. Well, she wasn't wrong. The dress was a light blue, silky fabric billowing around your ankles. The sleeves added to the whimsicalness of the dress. "only if the prince was Jesse Bradford,"

"you know what would make Prince Bradford fall in love with you even more? this flower crown," Lorelai said as she got up and pulled out a pretty-looking headband from a shelf. She put it on you and turned you towards a mirror.

"rory never let me dress her up like a princess; i should adopt you."

-

"hear ye, hear ye! announcing the arrival of her Royal Highness, the Princess, finally gracing us with her presence!"

"shut up, i was five minutes late; being a princess is hard work, you should know," you joked to Jess. You two met up near the gazebo, his reasoning being that he needed to make fun of you all dressed up as long as he could before he had to walk his mom down the aisle. "do you want to go get a seat? you're gonna be here for a long time. or maybe not, i've only been to three of my mom's weddings. "aren't you gonna sit down too?" you asked. "my mom wants me there to give her "emotional support" whatever that means," he joked as he led you to a seat next to lorelai and luke. Carrie from the diner yesterday was talking to them. lorelai looked concerned and luke just looked uncomfortable.

"hey, is everything alright?"

"no, there's gonna be a delay since liz ripped her dress and it's gonna take some time to fix it," carrie explained. "she told me to spread the message,"

"well, spread it car." luke got a suggestive look from carrie. "the message, the message." When carrie walked away, luke looked like he hadn't gotten oxygen in a good five minutes. "that woman makes me uncomfortable."

"poor liz, does she know how to fix something like that?" you asked jess and luke. "she was never one for household skills-" "i used to stitch up her renaissance fair costumes. trust me, she can't" jess interrupted luke. "i'll go see if she needs some help. where did you say she was?"

"she's at miss patty's,

-

You could hear Liz's laments from outside miss patty's. "my dress is ruined! how am i going to get married in a torn dress?" you pushed open the doors to Miss Patty's and gave Liz a concerned look. "I heard you needed some help? can i do anything for you Liz?" you asked, moving over to take a look at her dress. "I'm such a klutz, i tripped standing up and now its torn," she held up the side of her dress where there was an obvious tear. You grimaced and picked up the Doose's brand sewing kit from the table next to her, attempting to fix her dress.

"There you go! as good as new," you finished up the last stitch on her dress. "Oh, you're such a darling," Liz fixed up her hair. "you'd make a great daughter in law to a lucky lady someday. Could you tell jess to get ready for my grand entrance?"

The implied message didn't go past you. With cheeks redder than what your dollar store blush could get you, you thanked her and went down to the gazebo.

-

The ceremony passed by quickly, with you and Jess trying to think of sad and miserable things to make you stop laughing at the proceedings. "Oh man, i swear to you my wedding's gonna be better than whatever that was," you said, wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes as everyone went to the buffet line to get some food. "We'll see that," jess said as he inspected a turkey leg before putting it on his plate. You gave him an offended look. "Do you not think my wedding would be so much better than this 1500s medieval thing going on out here? I'd totally pick out a better theme," you said as you piled some mysterious looking food onto your plate. "I highly doubt that, and I hope you know that what you're putting on your plate is minced liver."

Your hand froze right right before you almost dumped another spoonful food onto your plate. You promptly pushed off the whole serving of minced liver back into the serving bowl. "That was so uncouth of you, private school girl. Did they not teach you manners at your finishing school?" You elbowed jess in the side as you chose a much more appetising looking burger prepared specially, from luke's. "one, i'm in college now; two let's sit down. I don't think they taught you table manners either city boy,"

-

After finishing up your dinner, you two decided to walk around to socialise. If socialise meant to make fun of every person in renaissance attire.

"the guy in the pantaloons probably thinks energy drinks count as water," jess pressed his lips to your ear, narrowly missing your cheek because of how much you were laughing. Everyone must have thought you two were drunk or high, from how hard you two were laughing. That was when you heard medieval sounding music playing where everyone had gathered.

"jess. you have to dance to this. i physically need to see it," you clung onto his arm, bringing him to the area near the gazebo, where Liz and TJ were dancing. They were doing some complicated looking dance straight out of the middle ages. "no way am i doing that. i'd rather slam my tongue in a car door." "please...?" "no." "...pretty please?" "fine, but you're coming out there with me." and before you could say no, he'd already dragged you to the dancefloor.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't have fun embarrassing yourselves. you'd only been dragged out of the dancefloor because TJ wanted to seranade Liz with a special dance just for her, and boy, were you glad you didn't have to see that.

-

Jess was walking you over to the gilmore house, where you'd been crashing with lorelai since your exams had been over. You, being a rich international student who's parents knew Richard and Emily Gilmore, had been asked to stay with them when you went to Chilton, and to Yale subsequently. Of course you could always tell them that your exams hadn't ended yet, and you were still staying at Yale, but where's the fun in that? You, lorelai, and rory, were planning on having a weekend of binging old movies and junking on the most unhealthy food you could find, so being a few days early wasn't a problem.

"after this is back to new york?" you asked him while approaching the door of lorelai's house. "maybe not, this time. might stay here for a bit; it's not that bad," he responded, leaning on the door. "any plans for summer?" you looked up at him. "you know, i've always wanted a summer romance. you know the type you read in the books, the notebook and stuff like that," you played with the straps of your purse. "maybe that'll be one of my plans," he said as he grabbed your waist and held you right up to him. "want it to be longer than just summer though." he pressed his lips to yours as he ran his fingers through your hair. you took a second to react, but you were kissing him back too. when you pulled apart for air, breathing heavy, you smiled.

"can't wait"

wc: 2.1k

[kartonkartonski]

ONE PIECE Pirate AU

What if OP world had real pirate vibe / What if our 1700s had people strikingly similar to OP characters + magic

DISCLAIMER i have the opposite of Same Face Syndrom + cant draw women lol yes the faces are real human ispired

LUFFY - Brazilian / Caribbean kid from a random ass poor village Hat, vest, pants, sandals - made more historically accurate (mmha)

ZORO - Japanese but raised abroad in Turkey or sth idk Hair - green hair dont exist lol Shirt, pants, boots - mmha Eyepatch - a piratey touch

NAMI - Swedish but adopted and raised in Spain or Italy or idk Clothes - mmha + made her more tomboyish Head cloth - piratey touch

USOPP - Italian mum + African father (unthinkable!) (european colonies in South Africa or sth) Clothes mmha The prankster he is, he carries fake prosthetic hook and peg leg and a fake swordsheath. I bet he has a fake parrot and an eyepatch he doesnt use. The gun is real and replaces slingshot

SANJI - French cook in the Mediterrenean Eyebrows - curly eyebrows dont exest stupid Hair - mmha Suit - mmha Cigs - replaced with a pipe Golden tooth - he got scurvy on that stranded island

CHOPPER - Canadian reindeer (caribou) General look - now he look like a real reindeer huh. No wonder why he was feared by the peeps Hat - early american settler-like Pants - mmha + piratey stripes

NICO - Russian originally associated with mafiozo Krokodil The dress is how i imagine her to dress like when working with Krokodil Hat, boots - mmha + more piratey Riding suit - she looked like cowboy in early OP so i gave her riding clothes

FRANKY - American, self-made clockwork cyborg who uses word "super" quite often (it was a thing in early 1700s!) Hair - Cyan hair dont exist idiot + made it cool and epic for 1700 standards Metal nose - screwed to skull Shirt - mmha Underwear - yes its underwear mmha Robo parts - clockwork coz no steam engines back then + wooden doll-looking Peg leg - hides a gun

BROOK - Austrian musician, his crew died hit by a plague Hat - mmha Afro - no afro in 1600-1700 sorry Justacorps - 1600s-ish coz he old af Yohoho

JIMBEE - Now a real FISHman, a real WHALESHARK and a real INDIAN (Oda said hes indian) yup thats about that FOLLOW FOR MORE

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A.N.: Content Warning, violence, slave lynchings, blood, sex.

"Know that you are loved

Even if you don't love yourself

Know that you are loved

Even if you don't love yourself…"

Cleo Soul – "Know That You Are Loved"

Celeste washed away blood, tissue, and pieces of teeth from her hair that once belonged to three men she tried to help get home.

Sitting in her tub, she let the showerhead rain warm water down on her, creating steam that enveloped her in warmth. The last trickles of blood that soaked her locs ran down the drain in pink rivulets. She raised her knees to her chest and hugged her legs.

She couldn't stay in Marigny anymore.

Vampires, ghouls, and gargoyles knew where she stayed, and she felt like a lighthouse for supernatural entities to fuck up her life even more. She couldn't take a chance staying with her parents, grandparents, or older brothers and their families. Bringing danger to them had to be avoided at all costs.

She wiped her face of tears and let the shower water wash it away. Celeste needed to activate a new state of mind. One that moved in the world with intention.

Celeste scrubbed blood from the side of her car and used carpet cleaner to clear away the dark splashes that stained her passenger seat. Afterward she dropped her car off at a dealership to replace the busted window. She slept most of the day and returned to work at the chicken processing plant using an Uber. The news of the disappearance spread around fast, and she feigned shock at the news that Hector, Shorty, and Quentin disappeared with everyone else. Police detectives wandered about the facility interviewing workers that shared the same shift the previous day. She answered questions concisely and never gave up info that she was with them during their last hour. Celeste kept her head down and pushed through her work. She clocked out and used the turn of events as fodder to get a few days off from the elder care facility.

It was time to dig into Miss Irma's boxes.

Celeste fixed herself a turkey and bacon sandwich and hunkered down, opening every box she brought home. Miss Irma's meticulous organization of her private papers and photos helped her separate the records into neat piles. At the bottom of a box filled with several thick books on history, the occult, and supernatural symbolism, she found a small plastic case filled with flash drives loaded with archival images, more family photos, and copies of folders with Miss Irma's travel photography for over the last five decades. Personal correspondence, postcards, and holiday cards shared by her friends and former work colleagues were tucked inside clear plastic bags.

She spent half a day piecing together the story of Terrence Richmond Guidry, a former enslaved human and leader of a little known Black and Indigenous uprising in the swamps of Opelousas, Louisiana.

Celeste had to stop almost every twenty minutes to get up from her sewing room desk to absorb the incredible story of the man who knocked her up.

Terry had been descended from enslaved Creoles way back, the kind that negotiated plaçages and attended quadroon balls to link wealthy white men with femmes de couleur to create free-born octoroons like his mother. His family upheld the caste system and pretended to be white for years until Terry's birth threatened to expose them. Considered too dark, too curly-haired, and too full-featured to pass as white with his unwanted throwback genes, even with green eyes, his land-owning white-passing Black father didn't send him off to Paris to be educated like his fairer male siblings. His father sent him to New Orleans at fourteen to learn a respectable trade as a shipbuilder, but slave catchers captured and sold him to a sugarcane plantation. News reached Terry two years later that his own father sold him to pay off a gambling debt and to amend back taxes due on their plot of land. His mother died of grief over it. None of his older brothers tried to save him. They married white women and diluted the bloodline back to unsullied whiteness and never returned to America. Celeste closed her eyes and wept for him. Family betrayal cut the deepest.

His owner was a strict Catholic who took a liking to Terry. Allowed him to marry an enslaved woman named Delilah. They had three children. Two boys and a girl born in bondage. The daughter died of smallpox when she was three. The conditions on the sugar plantation were harsh, yet somehow Terry and his wife survived with their two sons.

Celeste jumped up from her seat and paced in her sewing room. He lied to her about having children because they came before he turned into a vampire. She drank tea and snacked on some fruit, letting her mind sit with the man's past as an abused slave. What other atrocities had he endured? She entertained the idea that it may have been a relief to become non-human in order to get away from the banality of white evil. There were more than a few times she stopped reading and cried for him.

After writing about smallpox passing through his plantation like a deadly wildfire killing one third of the enslaved population, Miss Irma's historical biography veered off the rails and entered the domain of what would be considered speculative fiction in the real world. Terry blended in with a group of newly arrived Haitian captives and saltwater Africans who had been illegally brought into the south to replace the lost human property. It was against the law to import slaves into the United States after 1808, and the influx of Black people from the Caribbean and the Western Coast of Africa secretly continued on Terry's plantation during his time there in the 1850s. Slaves were bred as Black gold for the small farmer and large plantations, often sold in lots to turn profits quickly as cotton became king of the southern economy. The devastating loss of so many able-bodied field hands made it impossible for wealthy planters to wait around twelve to fifteen years for a new crop of humans to be bred and physically capable of picking cotton. Illegal importations saved them with a fresh influx of free Black labor immediately without a long-term profit loss.

Terry learned Haitian Creole and taught his diaspora brethren the Franglais he grew up with mixed in with the Cajun dialect of the overseers who beat him constantly. Under Miss Irmas's pen, Celeste became intimate with the fierce mindset of Terry in the past.

Somehow Terry convinced the handful of Haitians, Chitimatcha Native people trapped on their own stolen land, and his own mixed African population of homegrown pre-Black Americans to rise up and kill the masters on their plantation and two others nearby. Seventy-five enslaved men and women used machetes, pickaxes, and shovels to bash in the brains and slice the bodies of white men, white women, and their white babies. Slaves who tried to snitch were slaughtered right beside their masters.

Miss Irma copied an archival photo of Terry's former plantation, and Celeste gasped at another startling photo of Terry among other unnamed slaves. The look in his fiery eyes showed how ready he was to kill if given the chance to take retribution.

On a final chapter of Terry's pre-vampire life, Miss Irma documented how Delilah and his sons were spirited away to safety by free Black abolitionists in another parish. The uprising ended when a militia used firearms, attack dogs, and horses to outrun and overpower the enslaved rebels on their defiant march toward another parish.

The militia caught Terry fleeing with five other slaves, two of them Native, who escaped capture toward the end. Days later, the militia surrounded them in a hot, mosquito-infested swamp, where they evaded gators and poisonous water moccasins that slithered on top of the brackish swamp water.

All six slaves were lynched from giant oak trees covered in drooping Spanish moss on a sweltering summer night. Celeste's eyes stayed riveted to the typewriter ink on yellowing sheets of paper. She cross-referenced the lynchings with a Google search and also looked it up in one of the old books Miss Irma kept on slave rebellions in the southeast. The event was known as the Opelousas Rebellion.

Celeste's fingers shook while reading.

The authorities buried five of the slaves' recovered bodies in a mass grave, and the lynch mob that cornered Terry and his cohorts met mysterious circumstances, resulting in their murder. Their bodies were found stacked neatly, showing ripped throats and shredded wrists. Every drop of blood in them drained. Only one witness escaped to alert others and he eventually went insane after sharing a chilling tale of night demons attacking them. Miss Irma's historical recollection of the official record switched over into what had to be Terry's personal statement as a firsthand witness and survivor.

A roaming pack of vampires came upon the lynching and slaughtered everyone they could find…except for Terry. He had been the last one hung from the tree, his body jerking in the throes of approaching death, dangling like strange fruit until a vampire turned him into one of their own, saving what insignificant life he had left.

Miss Irma had no further details other than Terry finding his way back to his family a year later and living through centuries, reinventing himself as a son, grandson, great-grandson, and so on with each generational loss. At the bottom of the last page, Miss Irma wrote a handwritten note to herself: Check on the background of T'ewati Kobebi, the Aksumite Empire, and look up biblical notes on why the mention of tattoos only occurs once in the bible from Jesus.

Scribbled below the word 'tattoos' was a hand-drawn depiction of Terry's tattoo with a complete circle. Miss Irma drew the bottom half in black ink and shaded the top half with pencil lead. Between the typed manuscript, she had inserted two folded sheets of white copy paper. Celeste unfolded the sheets to find over fifty mystical symbols of chakras, magic circles, and pentagrams. She recognized a rudimentary ankh symbol, and several Christian Coptic crosses. Most of the magic circle images were underlined or had an asterisk next to it. Several had some configuration of an eight-pointed star symbol in the center. One looked eerily similar to Terry's tattoo that she circled in red ink.

Celeste spent the rest of her time in bed looking at the gargoyle pictures from Miss Irma's various flash drives on her laptop. She smiled at how young Miss Irma was in the fifties and sixties, traveling around the world, snapping photos of ugly relics. Her looks back then reminded Celeste of Lena Horne with the silky hair and button nose. A tattered journal explained the differences in gargoyles based on their country of origin and mapped out their locations worldwide. There was a lot of biblical scholarship research on Satan and the Book of Revelations, angels, demons, and the decline of the American church. Miss Irma had a keen interest in proving that ancient myths and folklore were real. Celeste shivered in her bed. Miss Irma listed many fantastical creatures that existed alongside the few Celeste had encountered in person. It would take months, maybe even a year, to read and decipher all the written research from that brilliant mind.

With her eyes exhausted from reading and scrolling images, Celeste fell into a deep sleep. Nightmare visions of the vampire attack caused her to toss, turn, and shout in her sleep. Dark dreams of holding a brown baby with fangs woke her up with a pounding headache…and a pounding on her door. Her cell phone vibrated on her nightstand. She answered it.

"Hello?"

"Duchess, I'm outside your front door," Micah said.

His voice sounded stressed with worry. She climbed out of bed and let him inside her home.

"I've been calling you all day. Why aren't you answering your phone?" he asked.

Celeste plopped down on her sectional and covered her eyes with her hand. Micah sat next to her.

"My life is fucked up, Micah."

She glanced at her cousin. His handsome face openly conveyed how much he loved her and cared about her well-being.

"I'm pregnant. Terry is the father."

Micah squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in a disappointed line.

"I told you not to—"

"Stop! Please! I don't need you making me feel worse than I do."

"How far along are you?"

"I'll be ten weeks in a couple of days."

"Okay…okay…what are you going to do? Are you keeping it?"

"I don't think I can because…."

Celeste looked at her cousin. She chewed on her bottom lip, stopping herself from saying the word vampire out loud.

"I'm thinking of going to California to have an abortion."

Her stomach muscles cramped, and she rubbed it, letting out a breath as the pain went away.

"I can go with you. My job owes me some extra off days for covering people."

She nodded.

"I haven't told anyone except you, and I don't want others to know."

"Will you tell him?"

"I don't know where he is. We haven't spoken in person or over the phone since he left here."

"Decisions like this are hard…especially a second time. I think you should go talk to Father Mbenga."

"Confession? Why would I tell Father Mbenga about this? He'd see it as a sin and talk me out of it."

"I didn't say do a confessional…I meant seek counsel from a spiritual advisor you trust. I can see in your eyes that this is painful, and spiritual counsel always helps you, Duchess. Your voice is saying get rid of it, but your eyes…bay-buh…your eyes are full of doubt. When we were teenagers, the thought of you having a baby so young hurt me, because I knew that nigga who did it to you was bad news. We rushed you through it because it was the right thing to do for you at that time."

"What about this time?"

"You're a grown woman who wants children…a family. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise."

"I never wanted to be a single mother, Micah."

"Well…if we find that green-eyed pussy bandit, maybe you won't have to be."

"I thought you were pissed about that man."

"I am, and he needs to face his responsibilities either way."

"There'd be no point telling him about it if I don't keep it."

"You want to keep it."

"I can't."

"Listen, we can go over to the church, and you can just talk about the stress you're under…nothing about being pregnant. God always has a way of showing the way when you really need it."

Celeste teared up and wiped at her eyes.

"I'll get dressed," she said.

Micah waited for Celeste outside of the church.

She walked inside, crossed herself in the vestibule and made her way toward the space worshippers were in while the church was still being worked on. She genuflected in front of a pew and then sat down. The stillness within the sanctuary humbled the anxiety in her chest. She folded her hands across her stomach and pondered her situation quietly. As a little girl, she often imagined herself having a baby to carry inside of St. Augustine's for a christening with all of her family around, celebrating her own little bundle of joy wrapped in a soft, white lace Christening gown.

Sadly, Celeste could only see herself carrying a baby that would probably sizzle in pain if Father Mbenga poured baptismal holy water over her head. It wouldn't be right to bring a child into the world that would only face the horrors of a lonely vampire existence like her father.

She stood up quickly.

"Sister Celeste?"

Father Mbenga approached her from the back of the pew.

"Did we have an appointment?" he asked.

"No, Father Mbenga, I just…"

Celeste's lip trembled, and she closed her eyes. A tear rolled down her face.

"Sit…sit…oh, what troubles you?" he asked.

Father Mbenga slipped in next to her on the pew and Celeste choked out her words.

"I find myself in a situation that was avoidable, but I think maybe I wanted it too, and I don't know how to move forward."

She wiped a dangling teardrop from her nose.

"I came to talk to you about it, but I don't think I'm ready to do that yet."

"God is with you, no matter the problem you face. When you are ready, come back. The church is your spiritual backbone for whatever storms you may have to weather."

"Thank you," she said.

He stood with her and walked her to the exit.

Outside, the bright sun and muggy heat greeted her. Micah jumped out of his car.

"You're done already?" he asked.

"No. I changed my mind. I'll come back another time when I feel stronger…braver. I want to walk around."

"I'll come with you."

They took a slow trip around memory lane and Micah pointed out spots where they played as children or snuck out to meet boys and girls for street fights, or smoke out sessions. Her cousin made her laugh and remember what it was like to be young and carefree. An hour later, they strolled to their grandparents' home so Celeste could urinate and hear the comforting sounds of Big Chief and Grand-mère enjoying their Saturday afternoon. They ate leftover beef stew with white rice and Big Chief showed them sketches for his new Indian suit.

She left her grandparents' house with a full belly and sprinkles of love cast over her.

"You look better," Micah said.

"I feel a little better. Still a lot to think about, though."

"I'll take you home. You can think some more and call me when you want to talk it out. I would hang with you longer, but I gotta get ready for work later."

She linked her arm around his.

"Thank you for supporting me…as always," she said.

They ambled back around to his car and he drove toward her house. Her phone chirped and the auto dealership mechanic left a text stating that they had to order a new window for her and the Charger wouldn't be ready until Monday or Tuesday at the latest. Celeste sighed and didn't worry too much. She had time off from work and hadn't planned on working Sunday either. Her little fetish side hustle videos covered the elder care facility income for the Lord's day.

"Well, I'll be damned," Micah stated loudly.

Celeste's heart swelled in her chest and she gripped the door handle of Micah's sporty Lexus coupe.

Seated at the top step of her stoop was Terry. Clothed in a simple orange T-shirt and comfortable tan cargo pants, he raised his head and stood immediately the moment he noticed Celeste.

"You want me to stay?" Micah asked.

"No, I need to talk to him alone."

"Call me if it goes south, okay?"

"I will," she said.

She stepped out of the Lexus and Micah watched the both of them without leaving, making sure she was truly okay.

"Hey," Terry said.

"Hi."

"It's been a while, and I wanted to see you. Sorry for not giving you a heads up that I was coming back down."

"You stopped communicating with me. I thought maybe…maybe it was for the best since we're living in two different places."

In the sunlight, his eyes held the color of balmy Caribbean waters. No blinking meant his gaze pierced into the deepest part of her. All she could think of standing there in front of her house was that his Black father had sold him into slavery. Terrible white men strung him up in a tree…all because he wanted to free his people. Did it matter if a strange vampire pack saved his life so he could watch over his loved ones for centuries? He didn't act like a feral beast. The man loved his family. Loved her.

Her chest shuddered. Tears sprang out too fast to cover up her emotions. Terry wrapped his muscular arms around her.

"I'm sorry I had to leave. It's been difficult being away from you, Duchess."

She buried her face in his shoulder, unable to express openly everything she'd experienced since his absence. It made no sense to be terrified of him and in love equally. She pushed back from him and averted eye contact.

In the daylight, they were safe. However, she didn't think it was wise for him to know that she was aware of his lineage. She had to play it close to the vest.

"How long are you here for?"

"A couple of days and then I have to get back. I got a room at a hotel…I just needed to see you again. Baby, I miss you."

Celeste's stomach flip-flopped and she climbed the steps to her front door. Glancing around, she noticed Micah still parked in front of her place. She nodded her head for him to leave and he made a 'call me' hand motion before he pulled away from the curb.

Terry followed her inside the house.

"I'll make us some tea," she said, needing an excuse not to look at him directly.

In the kitchen she fumbled with the tea-making, spilling sugar cubes everywhere and nearly breaking a saucer for the cups. She focused on keeping her hands steady as she carried the cups and saucers out into the living room.

They sipped together in silence, the tension between them thick like the roux in her grandmother's cooking pot.

"This place still feels cozy," he said.

He put his drink down and reached for her hand. She pulled back, keeping a polite distance.

"You have every right to be mad at me for not keeping in touch, or at least telling you I couldn't see you again right away."

"Things happen. We had fun. I was upset for a minute, but I'm over it."

So many questions ran races around in her brain. What did he do while he was gone? Did he hunt people and just stay low key, hiding in trees or stalking victims near clubs? Were there others like him? Daywalkers who other vampires depended on? The Deacon said Terry was an apex predator, and yet she never picked up on anything violent about him except for when he punched those white men two months ago on her behalf.

The Deacon and his pack wanted Terry. Once the night time came, they would probably know he was there with her. What if they pretended to be nice to her just to lure him back for nefarious reasons?

Celeste didn't know what to do.

"Duchess? Why won't you look at me?"

She played it off.

"I'm still upset with you, so I don't even want to look at you. I think you should leave. What we had is over, and it's best if we both move on."

The words sounded corny and cliché flowing out of her mouth, but it was the best she could come up with. She didn't know for sure if she was protecting him or herself. Maybe both.

"If you want me to go, I will. But I want you to look me in my eyes and say it…so I'll know it's real."

Don'tdoitDon'tdoitDon'tdoit…don't…

She squeezed her eyes shut and refused to look at him.

"Be mad, but please…don't shut me out. You're all I have left," he pleaded.

Celeste rocked forward in her seat and fell apart. The pain of being alone wafted off of him and she couldn't resist touching him again. She threw her arms around him and he rested his chin on top of her head. His body trembled against her and she was so close to spilling her secret and his. She clamped her mouth shut.

He cradled her chin with his hand, and she still refused to look at him. Celeste didn't want him to read her mind or do any of the things vampires could do to break her will.

"Why won't you look at me?"

"I can't…I don't wanna fall for you again."

He pressed his forehead against hers.

"I still love you," he said. "Being away hasn't changed my feelings. Tell me you don't love me anymore and I'll go away…never to bother you again. Je t'aime tellement, j'ai besoin de toi dans ma vie. Je veux être avec toi… all your life, Duchess."

Celeste gasped. He loved and needed her in his life. Wanted to be with her for as long as she lived. She glanced at the clock on her living room wall. They had a little over five hours before the sun went down.

Celeste looked directly into Terry's eyes. If he was brazen enough to read her thoughts in the past, would he do it now?

He only sighed in relief and kissed her lips gently once.

"Your eyes tell me you still feel the same about me," he said.

She balked for a second. He didn't invade her thoughts. Terry lifted her right hand and kissed her palm.

"I want to take you somewhere special to me."

"Where?"

"Mémé's house. You can think of it as a vacation."

"Why didn't you take me there before?" she asked.

"I thought it might've been too soon, especially after her death. Time away from here has given me a chance to think."

"I've done a lot of thinking too…and we need to talk…about a bunch of things. My life is different now—"

He kissed her.

His lips covered her mouth completely, and she gave in to the passion he conveyed for her.

She loved him.

Felt sorry for him.

Feared him.

Every emotion within her became tossed about, muddying the waters of discernment. Clarity. Down…down…down she went, drowning in his kisses and his tongue sliding in her mouth. She gave back hungry kisses, too. No human could understand what it felt like to be kissed and touched by a vampire. The man knew every spot on her body to break her down further, from licking the side of her neck to plunging his tongue in her ear.

He groaned her name into her skin. She folded like a losing poker hand.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Was that so wrong? A human and a vampire feeling desire for one another? Miss Irma said he loved her, and would a ghost lie?

Terry made her feel things that she'd never experienced with a human man before. Cherished and protected. Love overflowed from him and poured into her and she was willing to be damned by it if it meant she could have that feeling forever in his arms.

He lifted her from the sectional and carried her into the bedroom. She let him undress her. It didn't take long to unbutton her summer blouse and pull down her skirt. She kicked off her sandals and watched him take off his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.

He kissed every part of her and took his time fondling her breasts. Her nipples were sensitive and a simple flick of his fingers had them stiff. He sucked on them far longer than she expected, and she gazed at the ceiling. The light of day looked even more magical with him in her arms. His fingers slid across her locs and he played with them like they were just as sexy as her breasts. The full arousal of his dick slapped against her legs and she ignored it, knowing it would have her laid out soon enough. Once Terry put that hammer on her, wasn't no sane reason on earth to try and keep a rational mind.

He rested on his side, hugging her close to his naked warmth. His thick fingers stroked her cheek. She luxuriated in the shivers running across her skin.

"I want us to stay like this for days and days on end," he said.

She traced an index finger around his right nipple, and it hardened. Puckering her lips, she forced him to lower his head to kiss her again. He shifted his position even lower and kissed her vulva, paying close attention to the arc above her clit. She felt the thumping under her clitoral hood and moaned his name when he licked all over her inner labia. After a time, he rose with shiny, wet lips. Celeste made minimum effort to respond in kind. She remained a pillow princess and let him put forth all the effort in lovemaking. Her goal was to remain alert and experience his affections without losing herself to the lust.

He gave more effort to engage her, going so far as to place her hand on his erection, forcing her to please him. She slid her hand up and down with his hand covering hers, helping her keep on task, never going further than the thick ridge under his tip. Pre-cum spilled out, and he reached for a bottle of lube on the side table. He squeezed the dark blue plastic bottle and the odor of vanilla became strong to her nose as the sticky lubricant coated his dick, helping her hand slide with a slick pressure on his length. Rubbing some around her opening, he stared at her face, drinking in the intoxicating way he made her feel with his lovemaking prowess. Love shined in his eyes and glowed all around his face. Her heart wanted to confess about the pregnancy, but her mind fought back to keep that hidden from him. She still wasn't sure what to do, and telling him wouldn't help her. It would just add more pressure and cloud her judgement.

Terry repositioned Celeste on her side. He lifted her leg and pushed the tip of his dick against her opening.

"Terry," she murmured.

He kissed her and penetrated in two places, her mouth with his tongue, and her pussy with his dick at the same time. She gripped the sheet on her bed and braced her back against his chest. Terry made that dick move in her pussy. He dug deep in her walls and the lube had her pussy slippery to accommodate his size. She stretched around him well enough, but her lips twisted up, letting out little yelps and squeals, unable to process how good it felt to have that dick back where it belonged.

He squeezed and played with her tits, enjoying the way they bounced on the bed as he rocked into her with a steady pounding. A minute later, he lifted her right leg and kept it suspended in the air, using it to balance the thrusts he gave.

"Goddamn, this shit stays so tight around me," he moaned. "You missed me, huh?" he teased.

She smiled and reached back to touch his hair.

"Pussy gonna have me making a mess all in it…keep squeezing this dick like that and you'll have a problem on your hands."

She laughed, and he kissed her, still pumping that thick dick into her depths. Her passive energy excited him more, perhaps making him feel like he had to prove himself to her again. He grunted, kept her leg up, and complimented her sugary walls with each slap of his balls on her ass. Between thrusts, he stroked her clit, edging her so good she started getting blurry vision.

He fucked in the same way that got her pregnant and that excited Celeste, causing her pussy to spasm before she was ready, her orgasm rippling all across that heavy dick.

"Cum on my dick…keep cumming on my…dick…yessss…just like that…taking this dick like the good girl you are…ooh shit, you're still cumming…you want me to nut, don't you? Make a big mess all in this pussy…that's what you want…I can feel it…look how you're doing all this dick…all this dick…fuck all this dick…"

His mouth slammed down on her neck, and this time, Celeste was aware of everything, the initial pain, the deep sucking to snatch away her blood, the pressure of teeth that became unnatural inside her throat. She could even feel her heartbeat thrum in time to his sucking—

Terry froze.

His thrusts abruptly stopped. He dropped her leg onto the bed. His tongue and lips no longer stole her lifeblood.

Slowly…ever so slowly…he pulled his teeth out of her neck. His dick pulsed inside her pussy and she had no control over the final contractions of her orgasm. He pushed her chin, making her look at him.

She nearly screamed.

His eyes glowed with the inhuman reflection that he shared with The Deacon. His canine teeth and premolars were long, sharp, and dripping with her blood. Even with the feral gleam in his eye and the vicious, sharp teeth exposed, Terry's beauty became enhanced in his full vampire glory.

How dumb and blind she had been!

This was his true self.

"You can't be," he whispered under his breath.

He licked her blood from his teeth and around his dripping lips.

"Impossible!" he yelled.

He pulled his dick out and they both could see how close he was to cumming. His pre-cum still spilled out.

Celeste shrank into herself and stayed in a tight ball on a corner of the bed, pulling the sheet over her breasts.

"A girl…" he whispered, his eyes staring off into space.

Celeste nodded and he jumped off the bed as if she had the plague.

"Vampires can't breed with humans."

There.

He said it out loud. Naming what he was to her face.

"I know what you are," she said. "But you got me pregnant."

His eyes watered, and he bared his teeth at her threateningly.

"He called her a dhampir. Told me she was priceless," she said, rising to her knees on the bed.

"He?" Terry said, his eyes narrowing.

"The Deacon—"

Terry had her by the throat and pinned against the wall above the headboard before she could finish another word. She tried prying his hand away from her throat.

"I can't breathe…Terry…"

"When did you see him?!"

His harsh tone scared her. She burst into tears.

He dropped her back on the bed and stepped away from her, staring down at her like she was a cursed thing. She rubbed her throat and left the room. Padding into her sewing room, she grabbed a manilla folder. She returned to the bedroom and tossed Miss Irma's biography about him on the bed.

"I know all about you, Terry. How you became a slave. Your lynching. Your re-birth as a vampire."

Terry touched Miss Irma's tome and shut his eyes. He opened them back up and looked at her naked body.

"When did you see Abai?"

"Abai?"

"That's his real name. The Deacon is just something I used to call him as a joke between us."

Terry's voice sounded tired. Celeste folded her arms across her breasts.

"He came here looking for you with four other female vampires a week ago. They saved my life the other day. Another group of vampires attacked my co-workers when I helped change their tire. Abai, he knew I was pregnant. He cut my hand and tasted my blood, told me I was having a girl."

"You let him feed from you?"

Terry's nostrils flared, and his sharp teeth looked more menacing.

"I didn't let him…it happened during the attack, and I was…protecting myself…protecting what's inside me. Miss Irma…Mémé…she came to me as a ghost while I was at work and told me I was pregnant first. She knew it was a girl…she told me to look in her papers to know your story."

"Dhampirs are not real. None have ever existed. It's a myth. Humans and vampires are two different species incapable of reproducing anything."

"Nigga, I didn't think you were real either, but I've seen two different types of vampires and a ghost. Go fucking figure!"

She stomped out of the bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom. Angry and full of tears, Celeste ran the shower and cleaned herself off. She pulled on her bathrobe from the hook on the bathroom door.

"You don't have to worry about me keeping this mythical fetus. I'm going to fly out-of-state to get it taken out of me!" she shouted.

A fiery pain burned in her chest. This was the outcome she expected from him finding out. Denial. Negative behavior. The typical lame male response of not wanting to take responsibility for his part in the mess. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her face looked wet and her eyes were red and puffy from crying in the shower.

"You can leave, Terry. I'll take care of everything. Let's just act like we never met. No one would believe me about vampires anyway, so don't trip about your secret."

She flung open the bathroom door, and he was right there, bigger than life, waiting for her to come out.

"I don't want you to take care of anything," he said.

"What?"

His eyes were wet with tears and full of longing.

"Maybe…maybe this is a miracle for us, Duchess…maybe this was meant to be. I have endured the loss of so much for so long. Do you think the god you love so much took pity on me?"

"What are you saying?"

"I want to have this baby with you.

Chapter 13 HERE.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

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[aburningconstellation]

things that i think thrawn + the ascendancy gang would love (part 2)

thrawn: earning as many doctorate & masters degrees as possible (he loves being able to say that he’s a master at everything from art history to underwater basket weaving - & he has the diplomas to prove it)

eli: the dying crafts list + being the one person preventing so many crafts from not being practiced anymore (he tries to teach them to the sky-walker girls with varying degrees of success)

ar’alani: women’s sports in general, but also really niche sports (you know she was playing pickleball way before everyone else, but now that it’s kind of popular she’s moving on to like roller derby or something)

wutroow: the duolingo owl - not the app, the owl specifically (even though she speaks like 5 languages already & will 10000% learn another just so she can gossip without other people being able to eavesdrop). also chappell roan.

che’ri: spontaneously chopping off all your hair in the bathroom at 2am (&& probably giving yourself bangs too for good measure)

samakro: renaissance festivals (you know he’s got a giant turkey leg in one hand, a mug of ale in the other + is booking it to axe throwing)

thalias: modern adaptations of jane austen novels (no one appreciates yearning like she does)

faro: driving late at night with your windows down & a killer playlist blaring (bonus points if it like just rained & you can smell it in the air)

ba’kif: sam reich on game changer (he wants his cedf officers to experience just a fraction of the stress they put him under so badly)

thrass: the headspace meditation app (also under so much stress, but handling it in a very different way)

thurfian + zistalmu: the reesa teesa ‘who tf did i marry’ tiktok series (this much hot goss? for free?! they’re sat)

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Hi! What would the main 10 skeletons favorite Thanksgiving activities be?

Undertale Sans - Sans likes Toriel's cooking too much and Toriel doesn't know how to tell his friend is full so uh, Sans eats until he literally passes out on the table, so happy. He can't say no to another plate because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings so... Yeah. He's pretty much in a coma for three days after that.

Undertale Papyrus - He goes to see a football game with Undyne. None of them really understand what's going on but everyone is screaming and they're screaming too! Also, they discovered that apparently, only certain people could run after the ball after Undyne got kicked out for scoring because the players were taking too much time. Human culture is confusing.

Underswap Sans - He participates in a turkey trot and does his best to win because there's no way he's losing. He doesn't mind if it is supposed to be a playful event, he's tryharding until he collapses behind the finish line. He's proud of him!

Underswap Papyrus - He goes to see some parades in big cities. He doesn't like the crowd, but that's fine, he somehow convinced Asgore to come with him and Asgore is so impressive people stay at least ten meters away from him. He's having fun!

Underfell Sans - His brother wanted him to do something with the random turkey he brought into the garden, but Edge was talking too much so Red didn't listen and now he's not sure what he's supposed to do with the bird. So, uh, he freed the turkey hoping his brother won't notice. That's only after the turkey left that a random spot of publicity reminds him he was supposed to cook the turkey. Well, shit. He runs to the nearest shop to buy another lmao.

Underfell Papyrus - Toriel insisted Undyne and him sit down and tell each other nice things because apparently, Thanksgiving is about being kind to others? Obviously, Edge doesn't like that, but Toriel makes sure that Frisk stays in the room so, if Undyne and him starts insulting each other, she will roast them alive instead of the turkey in the oven. Ew. He's disgusted and after a long two minutes of just staring, he tells Undyne she has nice fingers. Pfew. He did it. That was even more painful than fighting against Asgore. He feels sick actually.

Horrortale Sans & Papyrus - They organized a big Thanksgiving meal with all the monsters of the Underground on his farm. They do that each year, and it makes them feel a little better to see they are each year a little more than the precedent year. Monsterkind is slowly rebuilding and moving on. They also celebrate Gyftmas that day so they can all have more gifts at Christmas a month later. What, they're clever, don't be jealous.

Swapfell Sans - He prevents his brother from dying and that actually takes a lot of time. They are invited to share a meal with the Queen, but Rus... Rus thinks it's a good opportunity to tell the old bitch what he thinks of her, and alcohol definitely doesn't help. Toriel neither by the way, especially when she broke one of his brother's ribs because apparently, you have to break a wishbone or something on that day. Nox just wants to go home and sleep for three days, please.

Swapfell Papyrus - After Toriel breaks one of his ribs, Rus says that's ok because Thanksgiving is also about giving back. Then he punches her in the face. After that, he has to run the fastest turkey trot of his life because the Queen wants his head on a spit.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's before all a business man so he goes shopping on Black Friday. Except he is merciless. Women, men, children, no one will stand between him and whatever he wants to buy. He's biting people's legs, throwing bones, and fistfighting everyone getting in the way. He doesn't need six televisions but he's still going to buy them just because he can!

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's all cozy in his room with the pumpkin pie he stole from the fridge, a big plaid and watching cliche Christmas movies in his bed and crying because that's so beautiful how Karen realized Jack-Sexy-Muscles was actually Santa Claus all along. He doesn't need more, really.

[no1heyyyyyyyy]

Sevika's tastes

Sevika is an old lady and she just wants to be left alone. She likes to look good but when it comes to clothes, Miss thing just doesn’t care that much. She always has practicality in mind. So, no dresses, nothing flowy, has to have natural fabrics so that her skin can breathe, and she requires that things are comfortable. Her shoes are always made for hardware with a strong sole and often reinforced. In the modern world, I see her working in metal working (specifically welding), so she has to have clothes that are multipurpose. Though, if she was forced to wear anything really nice, it would be a simple well-cut blazer and a button down with jeans or slacks that conform to her legs nicely. She prefers earthy colors, nothing too flashy. I think she’d really appreciate a nice dark green, or perhaps brown. I also feel that she would enjoy a nice flannel regularly.

With food, I’m afraid her palette is as unrefined as her clothing choices. She genuinely does not care what she eats, though she really likes chicken- loves hot wings, spicy food is her love. But, her comfort food will always be the food native to what part of India her family is from. I don’t think she’s the best cook, but she has a few family recipes that she knows so well (aloo gobi, chai, samosa, tikka masala, saag paneer). And, I think that on nights where she’s feeling really sad or lonely she always craves those foods. She’d love to cook with or for her partner, it’d be the best way to get to know her honestly. Because it allows for her to show vulnerability through actions and without words. She loves to take care of people and I think in modern times she’d mother her friends just a bit, always making sure they’re eating well, drinking their water, and sleeping right (if not she’ll give them some chai). She doesn’t eat beef or dark meats in general, and she isn’t the biggest fan of seafood or turkey. So, she sticks with her chicken and her paneer. She’ll eat tofu but it needs to be in curry or something similar.

This woman would love 80s hair metal, music is something that I genuinely believe she’d love so much. She’d play drums as a teenager, dead set on becoming the drummer of the next Metallica. She’d also love the old school heavy metal bands, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Pantera. She’d love them all. I think she’d like some old school 90s rap too, but none of the new-age mumble rap that’s going on. She wouldn’t really like Taylor Swift’s music, just because it didn’t vibe with her, but she respected Taylor’s ability to get a bag. She has had a huge crush on Adele ever since she heard the album 25 when it came out. She liked some of her music, but thought Adele was drop dead gorgeous and all mature and soulful and shit, hit her in the feels and made her whipped for this woman she didn’t even know.

For movies she loves shitty 80s slasher horror, nothing that makes her think. She’d sit back in her old recliner in her pajamas and house slippers whilst watching Slumber Party Massacre for the third time, and then put on Golden Girls because she feels that Dorothy Zbornak is her spirit animal. She likes a good sitcom too and a ridiculous drama (she loves Desperate Housewives), she likes the camp, the over the top acting and dumb plots, it makes her laugh and feel care free in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. She just wants to curl up with her pets (she would have many) and watch teen-based tv shows that revolve around crime or secrets (Pretty Little Liars, Riverdale, Vampire Diaries, even Buffy etc.). She likes how bad they are, but she gets so invested it’s ridiculous.

For personal scents she’d like more woody, alluring scents that are also kind of sweet. Think Amber by Rag n’ Bone (it smells so good), she doesn’t spray much, just a spritz, it wafts around her just slightly, just enough for women to fall at her feet. Her individual smell wouldn't be overpowering but it would definitely be clear. It’s grounding and soothing. Her sweat stinks though, every time she comes back from the gym, she goes straight to the showers because her own dogs don’t want to come near her b.o.

In general, Sevika is an old woman who couldn’t give less of a shit. She wants to be left alone with her life and her people and chill. Which is why, I feel like she isn’t that opinionated on much unless it’s boundaries or causes she cares about. She just doesn’t have the energy to be bothered with trivial things like which movie to choose for the night, or which restaurant to go to. She is tired and all she wants to do is eat good food with her partner and her pets in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t like neighbors and she doesn’t like people in her business. She doesn’t need a perfect life, just one that’s hers.

for whatever reason the letters are being weird, it is killing me. Please ignore it.

[cameronspecial]

HIIII I feel disappointed in myself for coming back again anyways I feel like this with be Drew and Girlfriend Reader

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C7AhicvN8yx/?igsh=MXRseWp6MG80enAybw==

His Own World

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Reader is Just A Tad Mean

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.3K

Masterlist

They were total opposites. Y/N is an extrovert, who loves to talk at every second and has a short temper. Drew is an introvert, who prefers to listen and is known to be mellow. Yet, they work together. There is one time when their opposition doesn’t exactly match well. It’s when it takes Drew a little longer to catch up on the conversation because he is in his own world. 

Y/N and Drew sit on the loveseat with his arms thrown across the back of the couch to rest his hand on her shoulder. Madelyn leans at the edge of the armchair with a cup of coffee in her hand. “And it was all over the place,” Madelyn finishes her story, causing everyone in the room to burst into laughter. Y/N sits forward, “Listen to this joke my niece told me the other day. It’s a little cheesy, but I found it cute.” The audience nods to demonstrate their interest. She continues with a smile. “Why do turkeys play percussion?” Madelyn and Drew shrug, shrug looking at each other in confusion. “They have drumsticks!” she announces the punch line, which throws the other woman in a laughing fit. 

At her boyfriend’s silence, she turns to him and repeats her sentence. “They have drumsticks.” His expression remains blank; his eyes blank rapidly. Y/N’s short fuse begins to shorten. “Do you really now get it?” she questions. He gives her a small shake of the head. “Ugh,” she exasperates, throwing her hands up. 

“What poultry item do people like to eat at Medival Time and Disney land?” 

“Turkey?” 

“Yes… And what do you call that part of the turkey that you eat?”

“Turkey… leg.” 

She exhales through her nose. Her frustration is growing. “Yes, Drew. What’s another word for it?” The two women’s eyes meet. Madelyn appears amused while Y/N is annoyed. The room sits in silence for a second until his face lights up, “Drumstick!... Ooooh. Hahaha. That’s funny.” Y/N pats his back with an open palm. “There you go. God, you are lucky I love you because if not then I don’t think I could put up with your mental capacity,” Y/N jokes, continuing on her conversation with her girlfriend. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[annaphoenix1994]

Ghost the Brat Tamer

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

The dining room in the lodge was full - having to bring in extra chairs in order to seat everyone in both Kiera's family and Simon's. 

Although the family was together, Simon couldn't help but briefly feel overwhelmed with the swarm of familiar faces as they all sat at the table to mingle before the women would bring in the food. Simon couldn't quite agree with waiting at the table along with the other men for the food, but Kiera assured him that it was something both she and her mother enjoyed as well as teasing him that "nothing went wrong when the women of the house served the food". 

Kiera took notice of Simon's anxiety and gently cupped his knee with her palm under the table, feeling the halt of his tapping leg after feeling her touch. With his hand resting on top of hers, he found himself merely calming down at her touch. "I'm going to go help mom." She whispered, her hand now resting on his shoulder before she excused herself from the table and towards the kitchen with her mother and Price's wife, Alice. 

"Kiera, darling!" Alice smiled, opening her arms to embrace her. "I'm so happy to see you! This place is beautiful!" 

"I'm so glad you made it!" She smiled into the woman's shoulder. "I was worried your flight was delayed because of the holidays." 

She laughed, "Well, knowing my husband, he was sure to get me to schedule my flight early as well as the earliest time in the morning so that if it did delay, I'd still be here a day early." 

"I'm surprised he didn't go and get you himself." She poked. 

"Believe me, I'm sure he's thought about it!" She giggled. "So, what presentation can I grab to take to the table?" 

"I'm finishing up the turkey now," Eva replied, taking a quick glance towards Jacob and Evie that were in their chairs, smiling at their perfection. I can't wait to spoil you two like eggs! She hummed to herself. "The potatoes and green beans are done."

"Great! I'll go ahead and take them to the table." 

"Thank you so much," Eva smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. "Just keep the sides away from that husband of mine. He's notorious for trying to sneak an early bite." 

"Heavens, I'll have to put them towards the middle because my husband tries to do the same thing too!" Alice laughed. 

"We might as well take it all out at one time, because I wouldn't put it past Johnny to try and sneak a bite, too. He's towards the middle of the table and my dad and Price are on the end." Kiera added. 

"I'm sure Simon wouldn't let Johnny considering he has that established death glare with him, sweetheart." Eva giggled. 

"I don't know about that. He's too busy keeping an eye on that boy." 

"How's the young man doing?" 

"He's improved a lot," Kiera relieved. "He and Simon had a rough start, but he's growing on him." 

"You mean Simon is growing on him?" Eva questioned, confused. 

"No, Baler is growing on Simon," She corrected. "They're just alike." 

"You know, I was just thinking that little Baler and Simon have similarities." 

Kiera hummed in agreement, glancing towards the dining room to make direct eye contact with Simon who had been staring - admiring - at her. She wasn't sure what he was thinking about when she caught him staring, but she couldn't overlook the gleam of lust behind those brown eyes of his. She smirked at him, getting out of her mother's line of sight before removing her phone from her jacket pocket, purposely sending Simon a rather suggestive image of herself she had taken earlier and meant to send to him then, but she was glad she waited until now to send it, knowing she was continuing the dangerous dance of lust.

She watched him look at his phone, concealing it under the table as a part of him knew she had sent him something only his eyes needed to see. 

Breathing heavily through his nose, he knew he was going to rail her twice as long for teasing him - especially having the nerve to test his intimate patience while in an area where he couldn't express it. Bloody lass is going to be begging me to let her come, he huffed to himself, knowing he and Kiera shared the same heavy desire towards each other courtesy of their playful teasing hours prior. 

»»-------¤-------««

Although it was completely unexpected that the dinner took longer than expected as judged from the year prior, Simon and Kiera ended up heading back home a quarter until one a.m. "Sir, can I sleep in the bunkhouse tonight?" Baler asked suddenly, catching the couple off guard. 

"Why?" 

He gulped in nervousness, "I know it's late, but with the holiday I figured I'd sleep in the bunkhouse and get started early with chores..." 

"Why don't you want to sleep here?" Kiera questioned, her brows furrowed in concern as she suddenly felt like Baler didn't want to be in their household. 

"Honestly," He sighed. "That couch is very comfortable and I'm afraid I'll oversleep where I don't have an alarm clock. I figured if I slept in the bunkhouse, I'll be up when the wranglers do and won't get behind." 

Kiera shrugged, "I respect your responsibility, honey. If that's what you want to do." 

"I'll take you down there." Simon responded, holding Evie close to his chest as Kiera did the same with Jacob, keeping their small bodies secured within the warmth of their blankets. 

"O-Okay. Thank you." 

You just did yourself a favor, lad, Simon mused, strongly resisting a smirk as Baler had unconsciously saved himself from possibly having to hear the couple's unedifying and extended withholding from each other. "Just give us a minute to put them to bed and I'll take you down there." 

"Okay. I'll wait on the couch." 

Simon followed behind Kiera on the way to the nursery, watching her lay Jacob's drowsy body into his crib, smiling at how he nursed on his pacifier with heavy eyelids. However, Evie wasn't as easy to put down for bed as she grew to grow restless after being carried. "She's probably hungry, babe. I'll get her settled while you take Baler to the bunkhouse." 

He nodded, handing Evie to her mother before his hands found their way to her hips, squeezing slightly as he pressed his lips to the crown of her head, "I didn't forget about that stunt you pulled at dinner." 

She blushed, "Oh... My phone must've been acting up and sent that picture by accident." 

"No, I think you were acting up, love," He breathed against her hair. "Don't be a brat about it." 

"I might just be a brat," She giggled. "You won't do anything about it." 

He sighed heavily through his nostrils, "You'll see." 

"Should I break out the burn creme from my hospital days for when you tie me up?" She teased. 

"Negative, love," He smirked against her head. "I won't tie 'em too tight." 

"Oh, so you're planning on tying me up now?" She arched her brow. 

"If you want me to. I know plenty of knots and have a couple in mind to brat tame your arse." 

"I look forward to it. I'll make up a safe word while you're gone." She teased while moving to the rocking chair, sitting down slowly while holding Evie close to her chest. 

"You'll need one." He huffed playfully before exiting the room to take Baler to the bunkhouse, knowing that if he stayed in her presence any longer, he knew he wouldn't be able to hide his arousal unless he was able to do something about it. 

»»-------¤-------««

After taking Baler to the bunkhouse, Simon found himself rushing to get back to the house knowing that he and Kiera could finally be alone. 

His first stop was to the nursery, glancing in the dimly lit room to see if she was still in the rocking chair. Seeing that both babies were in their cribs, Evie making small little noises as she nursed on her pacifier, he was satisfied that they were tucked in and comfortable before continuing his pursuit of his partner. 

Their bedroom was dimly lit by the single lamp on the nightstand as Kiera sat on the edge of the bed with a silk robe clinging to her shoulders. He breathed heavily through his nose at the sight of her. "I had some trouble making up a safe word," She breathed a giggle. "I wasn't sure if you were serious or not..." 

"I was dead serious, love," He replied, standing in front of her and reaching out to cup her jaw. "Only if you want to."

"I want to, but I'm nervous..." 

"That's when you leave it to me." He breathed, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her cheek. 

"How rough are going to get rough with me?" 

"Depends on how rough you want me to, love," He assured her. "This ball is in your court when it comes to this." 

She nodded, peering her tongue from between her lips, "I'm ready." 

"I have another question for you." 

"Hm?" 

He leant over her to gently push her body down onto the bed with his torso, caging her between his arms while her legs instinctively went to wrap around his waist. "I can get rougher than what I've done with you before..." 

"That wasn't a question?" She giggled, pressing a kiss to his hot lips. 

"I was getting to it, but you're distracting me." 

"I'm sorry," She smiled. "What were you going to ask? If I wanted Simon or Ghost to put me in my place?" 

"Such a good mind reader, love." He smirked. 

"I knew it," She hummed. "I think Simon gets minorly rough, but Ghost? Fuck, I'm in for it." 

"Well?" He arched his brow. 

"I think Ghost can handle putting me in my place," She giggled, thoroughly excited for it. "Simon wants to, but I know he'll feel bad." She continued, talking to him in third person. 

"What makes you think that?" 

"Just an assumption, babe." 

He breathed a chuckle, "Well, if that's what you want, I'll gladly comply." 

"I want you to do what you want to me." She said sternly, a gleam of confidence in her eyes at the desire he made her fantasize about. With him, she had managed to void the haunting and traumatizing thoughts of what had happened to her in her past as well as after the hijacking and hostage situation in Urzikstan. She trusted Simon with her entire life - multiple times over if she could. 

Simon knew he couldn't do everything he wanted when it came to playing rough, sincerely wanting to avoid making her uncomfortable or hurting her in any way, especially where he knew she was still mentally recovering from the trauma she and many other women endured during their time held hostage. A part of him felt that she was asking him to be rough with her as a way of healing - a way of trusting him with her body as she knew he would never take advantage of her in any way. 

Especially intimately. 

"In that case, have you thought about a safe word yet?" He spoke lowly into her ear, satisfied at feeling her shiver under him by his words alone. 

She shook her head and licked her lips out of nervousness. 

"How about red? You can remember red, right?" He snickered, watching her nod in agreement. "Good girl. Give me your hands." He continued, watching her do as she was told while he moved his body to stand at the edge of the bed, bringing her up by her hands and moving them to where her palms pressed against his stomach. "Keep them there." 

She nodded, breathing in excitement as she watched him remove his belt and gently twisting it to where it secured her wrists together while her palms still pressed against the hard muscle of his abdomen, her eyes widening with lust when his right hand clasped gently against her neck, forcing her gaze to peer up at him, seeing Simon's eyes darkening at the sight of her doe eyes staring up at him. He studied her face for any discomfort before continuing, keeping a prominent note of her body language before he did anything else. Seeing that she was rather excited instead of uncomfortable, he reached down to tuck at the silk belt that kept her robe clasped shut, untying it with one hand and releasing it from the loops on the robe that kept the belt in place, breathing heavily as its front clung to her breasts, revealing only to him those two perfect mounds that drove him wild at the sight alone. 

Running the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip, he then used both of his hands to slowly and gently place the silk belt around her eyes, tying it together at the crown of her head before his hands cupped her face, "This is only the beginning, love."  

"Is it crazy how I was expecting you to push me down on this bed and gut me from the inside?" She giggled. "I was kind of excited for that." 

"You need to walk before you run, sweetheart. You have a long night ahead of you." 

Her breath hitched at his proposal as her tongue slipped from her mouth to nervously lick her bottom lip. "I look forward to it." 

"Such a cocky little minx, yeah?" He chuckled, watching her nod in agreement as well as growing immensely excited at his mild degrading. "On your knees." 

"Okay-" she said nervously.

"It's not okay," Simon warned, arching his brow. 

She giggled, "Yes, sir." 

"Good girl," He praised, gently grasping her upper arm as he helped her move into position, looking down at her while she willingly sat on her heels and kept her bound wrists in her lap. She heard the zipper on his jeans move as well as felt his presence step closer to her, feeling the tip of his cock press against her lips. She couldn't help but pucker her lips against his aching head, tasting the semi-sweet taste of his precum flood her desire even more. "Open your mouth," He breathed, grasping her hair and moving her head back. "Flatten your tongue." 

He shivered while he watched the head of his cock disappear between her teeth, feeling the roof of her mouth with his sensitive tip, gently pushing forward only to feel her throat constrict briefly as well as her body's natural instinct to pull away, except the grip from Simon's hand on her head prevented her from doing so. "What's wrong, love? Too big for you?" He mocked, watching the corners of her mouth curl into an exciting smirk. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You can take it. Open wider." He directed, using his other hand to clasp the bottom of her jaw, the pad of his thumb against her chin as she relaxed against his touch, flattening her tongue under his cock and his tip protruding past the tight muscle of her throat. "Your tongue is bloody perfect," He growled. "All fucking mine." 

Slowly, he began moving her head against his cock, keeping a sharp eye on her for any trace of discomfort as he truly didn't want to ruin this type of play for her, letting her take it at her own pace, except Simon saw himself as coaching her through it instead of forcing her. She moaned against his length, the vibrations from her mouth making his cock twitch. Simon couldn't help but lean his head back at the sensation from her perfect mouth, letting her take her time with pleasing him with her tongue. He soon felt her hands pressing against his thighs. Looking down, he had realized that she had released her hands from the restraint of the belt he had loosely tied around her wrists - only loosely tying them for her own good as triggering a stress habit was the most of his worries when it came to this type of intimate encounter with her. Once Kiera had realized he saw she pulled her hands free, her lips curled into a smirk before she heard him speak, "Looks like I'll have to tighten that up, yeah?" 

He let her pull her head away from his cock, tilting her head up as if she were looking at him, although Simon perfectly pictured those perfect hazel eyes through the silk of the makeshift blindfold, "More like you have to work on your binding skills. You made it too easy, babe." 

"You have a knack for talking your shite, love." He scoffed. 

"What're you going to do about it?" Her brow arched. 

"I got something to shut that mouth up," He growled lowly, cupping the crown of her skull and returning his cock into her mouth, feeling her giggle against him before her throat seemed to relax against his length, welcoming him in further down against her tongue. "Much better." 

The next several minutes were pure bliss for him as she managed to twist her tongue perfectly against the bottom of his shaft as well as applying the right amount of suction by hollowing her cheeks. Using the grip he had on her hair to move her head against him, he stilled after a few minutes, filling her mouth with his hot spend before pulling her head back by her hair, "Open your mouth," He directed, groaning as he watched her do as she was told. "Swallow it." 

She swallowed without a second thought, licking her lips clean before he helped her to her feet by gently grasping her neck while letting her hands clasp against his forearms for support before he slowly pushed her down onto the bed with his body, smirking at how the robe completely revealed her body for him. "Look at you," He breathed. "You were fucking ready for me when I got back." 

"How could I not?" She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck only for him to pin her hands by her head. 

"I haven't given you permission to touch me yet," He warned. "And by the way, although you are completely stunning in this, it's going to be a shame that it'll be unable to wear again after I'm done." 

"Lace doesn't rip so easily, Simon..." She giggled, moaning once his lips came in contact with her neck just below her ear. 

"Probably not, but I know it cuts rather easily." 

She shivered at his words, relaxing against his touch as his right hand delicately traced along the smooth skin of her leg and up her thigh, tracing up against her side and gently cupping her left breast. She couldn't help but wrap her legs around his waist and pull him closer to her, feeling his semi-hard cock against her hot core, begging him to stretch her around him. "Not so fast, love," He groaned. "You haven't earned it yet." 

"I think I've earned it since you put a ring on my finger." She giggled. 

"Oh, I've been all yours since before I did that," He smirked. "As for right now, you haven't earned it yet for teasing me all day." 

"Silly me." She poked, smiling when she felt his left hand clasp her wrists together. 

"Don't move," He said, leaving the bed to retrieve his belt that she left on the floor before walking around to the side of the bed to grasp her wrists and bind them back together and buckling the belt around the headboard. "Be careful when you try to pull yourself out of these this time. They'll bite." 

"So do I." She giggled. 

He huffed, "Well, sink those pretty teeth into me all you like, sweetheart."

She shivered when she felt his presence grow distant from her. Not being able to see him due to the makeshift blindfold, she grew slightly nervous when she realized he had briefly exited the room, returning after a couple of minutes and feeling his presence next to the bed. "Nervous?" He chuckled, grasping a chunk of ice from the glass he brought with him. 

"No." She shook her head.

"Good. Last thing I want is for you to feel like you should be nervous around me." 

She licked her lips, feeling his lips coming close to hers and willingly welcoming his kiss, shuttering at the taste of wine filling her mouth. She gasped after she swallowed, feeling his lips making a trail of their own against her neck, between her breasts, and down to her abdomen, the ice between his teeth leaving a cold trail against her skin. She couldn't help but pull at her restraints when she felt his hot breath fanning over her core, feeling the tip of his nose against her lace underwear, anticipating the sensation of his lips surrounding her clit. Unaware that his eyes were locked on her from between her legs, she gasped when she felt the tip of his tongue dance against her aching clit against the lace fabric of her underwear. She moaned at the sensation, desperately pulling at her restraints to lock her fingers through his hair, but she had no luck. 

With a smirk, he curled his index finger around her underwear, feeling her anticipation against his finger, chuckling at how she arched her hips against his touch, desperate for friction to satisfy herself. "The more you keep begging for it, the longer I'm going to tease you." He warned. 

She groaned, "Please, I need you!" 

"Such an impatient minx you are. You'll be lucky to just get the tip." 

Huffing, she relaxed against him, knowing he was going to continue teasing her with just the tip of his tongue, assuming that he enjoyed giving her this sexual torture by how he fanned his breath over her clit and only kissing around her vulva and against her labia, purposely not giving any attention to the areas she desperately wanted touched the most. He moved her leg to where it rested against his shoulder, using the leverage to her advantage to move her hips upward against his mouth, giggling when he snaked his arm above her waist to pin her back down on the bed. "Pushing your luck, sweetheart." 

"Worth it." 

He shook his head against her thigh, barely coaxing his index finger past her folds and curling upwards, finding the spongy material of her g-spot. "I knew you'd let me have it." She teased, her smirk fading once he pulled his finger away and out of her. 

"What was that?" He arched his brow, moving the fabric of her underwear back over her core and leaning up to bring his soaked index finger towards her mouth, satisfied that she willingly accepted by letting his finger enter between her lips. "Lick it clean." He ordered. Do I always taste this sweet? She wondered. 

He pressed the weight of his hips between her legs, feeling her moan at the sensation as his aching head was only centimeters away from her core, knowing that he'd be able to effortlessly slip in if he kept gently rolling his hips against her. 

He let her roll her hips into him while he kissed her neck with pure excitement, unable to refrain a groan of his own when he felt the head of his cock slipping towards her core with every roll of his hips, the fabric of her lace underwear moving to the side with every roll. 

Eventually, the head of his cock slid in slowly, feeling her wince in his ear at the welcoming stretch his length always gave her. She couldn't help but wrap her legs around his waist and squeeze, desperate to pull him fully into her. "Not so fast," He groaned. "Just the tip, love." 

She huffed in frustration, continuing to squeeze her legs around him anyway just for him to clamp his hand around her neck - a warning. "You know you want to." She begged, licking her lips. 

He smirked against her neck before his lips found their way to hers and forcing his hips to stop, "I want to fuck you absolutely blind, love." 

"Then do it." 

"Careful what you wish for." He grumbled against her lips, pulling away to sit back on his knees, grasping her hips and forcefully turning her over to where she was bent over in doggystyle. He removed his pocketknife and cut the lace underwear from her hips and tossed them to the side. When he felt her lean back towards him, he couldn't help but swat her ass harshly before he lined himself up with her entrance, waiting a few moments to give him another reason to spank her again. 

She licked her lips with excitement, leaning her rear towards him again just to feel him slap her ass again, "Am I making you angry, sir?" She giggled. 

"Not in the slightest," He grumbled, grasping both of her cheeks with his massive hands, holding her still before he slowly entered her, forcing himself to hold back just how rough he could get until she took him with ease, knowing the stretch he always gave her could be uncomfortable, no matter how many times he had gotten rough before. She gasped at the sensation, naturally arching her back while her walls couldn't help but constrict around him. He nearly lost himself right then and there, but he refrained. "Fucking hell, love." He grumbled. 

"What?" 

"Always so fucking tight for me." He winced, squeezing her ass in his hands while he began to thrust slowly for a few strokes, knowing she was purposely squeezing her walls against him to test his patience for a desired release. 

Once he felt her relax against him, his thrusts began to grow into rough strokes, bottoming out every time as he swore he could feel her cervix. Her moans were loud and quick, making Simon wonder if he was hurting her with the force of his powerful hips, but when he saw that she was equally as excited, he continued. 

Soon, his hands trailed along her scarred back before stopping at her shoulders - his left hand grasping her hair at their roots while the other clamped down on her shoulder, holding her still while he continued rutting ruthlessly into her, that same hand that clamped on her shoulder reaching up to cover her mouth, "Can't be making too much noise, love," He breathed into her ear. She moaned into his palm, pressing her lips against him before his fingers curled into her mouth, groaning when he felt her suck his fingers while he continued to thrust. "Get those fingers nice and wet for me, sweetheart." 

She moaned in reply when she felt him still briefly, letting go of her hair and removing his fingers from her mouth, her body tensing when she felt his index and middle finger trailing the column of her back and stopping at her ass. She then knew what he meant by getting his fingers wet. In truth, she was scared of letting him enter her there as she had never done it willingly before as well as it being something that was ruined for her by her assailants, but she forced herself to trust him and take it as something that she could grow to enjoy as she knew that Simon wouldn't take advantage of her like that. 

With that thought, she began to grow excited for the new sensation. 

A small gasp left her lips when she felt his index finger slowly enter her anus, adjusting to the sensation. "You alright, love?" 

She nodded, relaxing her body against him as he pressed his finger further into her while his cock was still and buried between her slick walls. "Fuck," He winced, excited to enter her there as it was tight against his finger as well as feeling her walls tighten against his cock. "Do you want me to fuck you here?" 

"Yes, sir." She nodded, licking her lips, hoping Simon wouldn't recognize the nervous strain of her voice. 

But he noticed.

That's why he used his fingers. 

If he were honest, he didn't want to because he knew that it could trigger a stress response from what happened in Urzikstan, but he had remembered that it was the subject of conversation between them at some point when she wanted to talk about having sex again as well as having anal sex with him to help her mentally heal from the experience and wanting to enjoy it. Only with him:

»»-------¤-------««

"Simon, can I ask you something?" She asked with her head against his chest, the couple having one of many nights where they both couldn't sleep. 

"Anything, love." 

"When we... have sex again, I-I think I want to try something." 

"What did you have in mind?" 

"Um, I've never willingly had, you know, ana-"

"Don't force yourself to do it, love. I don't want to put that pressure on you." 

"No, I want to... eventually, but after what happened... I'm afraid I'll ruin it for you."

"You won't ruin anything for me," He assured her, rubbing his thumb against her shoulder while pulling her closer against him. "I won't do anything without asking you first. You know that." 

"I-I know, but I want to enjoy that at some point, but it hurts." 

He knew what she was talking about when she implied it. 

"Don't force yourself to talk about it," He breathed. "When you're ready." 

"I think I'm ready for it, but I don't know how to enjoy it without being reminded of what happened." 

"How about this: I'll start with a finger and if you don't want to, I'll stop," He suggested. "I don't want to do anything you're not ready for, love." 

She nodded, "I trust you, Simon. With my life and my body. I know you wouldn't just outright do it without bringing it up to me." 

"I never would."

»»-------¤-------««

"Remember to use your words with me, love." He reminded her, hoping that she was truly ready for it as it was a big step for her as well as overcoming her trauma. 

"Just go slow, babe." 

He nodded, removing himself from her and moving his body to where he could reach her nightstand, removing the silicone rabbit vibrator and a bottle of lube from the drawer, deciding to use the vibrator and dildo combo for her own pleasure and the lube for easier penetration when he entered her there. He turned the dildo on its lowest vibration setting, replacing his cock with the toy as the vibrator nestled against her clit, causing her to moan at the sensation, Kiera mentally thanking him for the distraction while she felt the cold sensation of the lubricant against her rectum. 

She couldn't help but wince when she felt his shaft slide between her ass, spreading the lubricant all over his cock before he rested the tip against her anus, pressing slightly while keeping a sharp eye on her face, willing to stop if he felt she was uncomfortable. "Ready?" 

She nodded, waiting for the sharp pain of him entering when it was rather enjoyable. Slowly, he managed to squeeze the head of his cock into her with slow, even pressure, stopping once he entered just the tip, "Are you okay, love?" 

She nodded again. 

"Use your words, sweetheart." 

"Yes, Simon." 

"Good girl. Just relax, the hardest part is almost over." He assured her, pressing in just a bit more before feeling her body tense against him again, her jaw agape as she moaned. Once fully inside, he held himself still as he let her body adjust to the new sensation. "How does it feel?" 

"Good," She breathed. "It kind of hurts..." 

"Do you want me to stop?" 

"N-No." 

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. 

"Words, love." He reminded her, his voice soft and patient as his thumbs rubbed circles against her ass. He couldn't be rough with his words like earlier - he knew this would be a hard obstacle for her to hurdle over.

And he wasn't going to continue being rough when he knew this, even when she said she wanted him to be rough in the very beginning. For her sake, he wasn't going to do it even when she said so.

"Yes." 

"Remember to tell me if I need to stop." 

"I will, Simon." 

He nodded to himself when he felt her body relax around him, reaching down to increase the vibration on the dildo before beginning to thrust himself slowly into her. He couldn't lie, it felt great for him and he hoped she felt the same amount of pleasure as he did, especially with the combination of a penetrative toy and vibrator against her so she could chase her own high while he did. 

He watched her grip on the pillows tighten with every thrust, careful to not snap his hips into her like he did before, ensuring to himself that she was enjoying it more than him, watching her mouth open to release a moan every time he fully sheathed himself inside of her. Her walls tightened around the toy, feeling her stomach tighten as the tidal wave of her orgasm was on the horizon, concentrating on the new sensation to help her achieve her release, forcing herself to focus on Simon and not what happened to her as a part of her didn't want to ruin the new position for him. Judging by his groans, he was growing close to his release as well, his goal of achieving his release with her always in his mind. "How are you feeling?" He asked lowly. 

"Good," She breathed. "Harder." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes!" 

His thrusting began to pick up pace, increasing the sensation for the pair of them as the toy moved further up into her vagina every time his thighs met the back of hers, her body began to rock against him as the vibrations against her clit began to draw her orgasm closer and closer. Soon, she could barely even remember how painful it was when he first entered her, knowing that her body fully relaxed as she took his length with more excitement than fear. Her body began to tremble as her orgasm took over her, feeling him still as he found his own release, keeping himself sheathed inside of her as his hands moved against her back when she propped herself up. She turned her head, her lips meeting his while his other hand slid the makeshift blindfold from her eyes. "There you are." He smirked, searching her eyes for any trace of discomfort. 

She hummed, kissing him again before pressing her chest against the pillows, her arms weak from holding herself up and enjoying the sensation of Simon's warm palms tracing down her back and reaching down to slowly remove the toy from her folds, tossing it to the side before he slowly started to remove his cock from her rectum. "Relax," He spoke. "It may feel uncomfortable." 

His eyes never left her face as he pulled himself out slowly, watching her body relax once he was fully out as well as a sigh leaving her lips. He leant down to press a kiss to her temple before releasing her wrists from the belt keeping them against the headboard, "Let's go shower before going to bed, yeah?" 

"Okay," She giggled. "What time is it?" 

"Almost five." 

"Jesus! I'm glad we don't have much to do later." 

"I told you that you were going to have a long night ahead of you." He chuckled. 

"Yeah, you weren't lying." 

"I mean, I can go a few more rounds..." 

"Maybe another day!" She giggled. 

"You're right, we'll save that for the honeymoon." 

[eosofspades]

actually shout out to the croods 1 for female character design im so serious. i can't speak on the sequel cause i haven't seen it but women with broad shoulders women with frizzy wild hair women with crooked teeth women covered in dirt women who can throw boulders and are loud and violence-prone and short-tempered. women who are feral and not in the quirky way but like actually allowed to be offputting. the scene where eep wolfs down a turkey leg bigger than her entire body in like 4 seconds was revolutionary to me idc