#or... blowing air through your nose in amusement. yes

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Your mother finally gets the truth out of you regarding Max. Warnings: 18+ only, swearing, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The double bed was definitely not made to accommodate three people, even if you were all spooning, so you found yourself sneaking out at sunrise. You hadn’t been able to sleep with the thoughts running through your head, wondering why Max couldn’t have been more like your mother. You weren’t worried about waking Lando as you climbed out from between them, since you didn’t have an air horn on you, but you were careful not to jostle Charles who was a much lighter sleeper.

After changing into a pair of leggings and a sports bra, you found your airpods and shoved the Aura ring back on your finger before taking a lap of the village. You quickly settled into a good pace, feeling the rhythmic slap of your trainers on the pavement and timing your breathing to match. It cleared your mind and gave you a focus on something other than everything else that was happening around you. For those precious minutes you didn’t think about Max.

So far you had managed to avoid talking about him with your mum, though that was mostly thanks to being blindsided by your relationship status - it had been enough to distract her for the rest of the day. You weren’t so sure that luck would last another 24 hours but you would certainly try.

“Just leave her be, she’ll come in when she’s ready.” Your mother had been watching you all morning from her spot on the window seat, a cup of tea in hand. After Charles had woken up he had joined her and watched curiously, wondering why you were in the garden. “Avoiding me,” she said with a knowing smile. “It’s funny that the only times she would willingly do her chores were when she was trying to hide. It was a dead giveaway, but I never said anything. It was just nice to not have to ask her to do them.”

Charles chuckled as you battled to trim the agapanthus with a pair of rusted and blunt shears. “Should I offer to help?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, checking the time on her watch. “She’s nearly done.”

Charles quirked an eyebrow as he looked at the progress that had barely started to make a dent in the long drive.

“Fuck,” you hissed as you the slimy residue that leaked from every cut leaf made your hand slippery and the shears fell from your grasp, narrowly missing your foot. You went to wipe a wayward hair that fell onto your nose but the sun caught the shimmer of slime and you jerked back with a groan, instead trying to blow it out of your face. You grew more irritated as the hair remained where it was tickling your nose and the urge to sneeze built up. “Fuck this shit.”

Abandoning the garden, you marched up the path and kicked your filthy shoes off before storming through the house.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother greeted jovially. “Lovely day for a spot of gardening.”

“I’m calling Mr Newberry,” you grumbled on your way to the bathroom. “He can sort that mess out.”

You felt slightly calmer after washing away the slime and the chlorophyll that stained your fingers green and that feeling only grew when you found Charles waiting with a coffee made just how you liked it. “Busy morning?” he asked after handing over your elixir of life and taking his payment with a quick kiss.

“I’m just trying to help out,” you said with an innocent shrug. “I made a list of things that need fixing around here and if I don’t make the phone calls they will never get done.”

Charles tried to hide his amusement but when you narrowed your eyes at him he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “Your mother knows you so well,” he laughed as he leaned in to whisper, “She knows you are avoiding her.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does,” he assured you, running his hands along your sides before he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to her, amour.”

A shirtless and sleepy Lando stumbled his way into the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he made a beeline for the two of you. You placed your mug on the table before he reached you and let him fall into the middle of the embrace as his eyes fluttered shut again. He must have been burrowed under the blankets because the heat radiating off him was almost hotter than the blistering shower you had taken.

“Why are you awake?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“She’s being a coward and avoiding her mum.”

That made Lando battle his exhausted state and force his eyes to open as his forehead crinkled with a frown. “Why?”

“I’m not.”

“Because she wants to know why that person-we-can’t-mention-for-another-eight-days keeps calling her.”

“You can say his name,” you grumbled. “Max Verstappen, World Champion, Number One. Prodigal Son. Cunt.”

Your mother gasped as she entered the room with a fresh brew of tea. “I should wash your mouth out with soap, young lady.”

You winced at the reprimand. “Oops, turns out we can’t say his name.”

“This has gone on long enough, take a seat - family meeting,” she ordered as she pointed to the table. Lando and Charles took a step towards the door but your mum tutted. “You’re a part of this family now too, gentlemen.”

“Should I put a shirt on?” Lando asked as he looked down at himself. “Or shorts?”

“Please don’t.” “Please do.” You spoke at the same time as your mother, both of you sending each other slightly irritated looks. 

“Two Spitfires, Char, there’s two now,” he whispered under his breath as he went to get dressed. He obviously had been in a rush and blindly pulled clothes out because the tense atmosphere wasn’t enough to stop Charles from grinning at the sight of Lando in his Ferrari shirt.

Seated at one end of the table, you faced your mother while your poor boyfriends were the buffer between. Lacing her fingers together, she stared back at you and made that heavy sigh that every parent could which immediately induced waves of guilt. You didn’t even have anything to be guilty over, but it happened anyway.

“What happened with Max?”

You crossed your arms at the direct question. “This is why I don’t bring people home.”

“What happened with Max?”

“Nothing.” You dropped your head to the table with a thud as her penetrating stare became too much to look at.

“What happened with Max?”

“Fucksake,” you groaned as her persistence won over your impatience. “He called you a whore…well technically he called me one too, but it doesn’t matter. He disrespected you, mum, so instead of calling you what he can do is he can take his phone and go fuck himself with it.”

Lando covered his mouth as a quiet squeak slipped out behind his apologetic smile and you reached out with your foot, running it up and down his leg. You felt bad for subjecting him to this drama when he was as introverted as they come - not that anyone would guess after seeing him on tv. Charles seemed to just take everything on the chin and not a lot fazed him at all, but like you he was reaching out to soothe Lando under the table too. 

“I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry,” you said as you started to push your chair out.

“Wait, please,” your mum asked quietly as her face softened. “He shouldn’t have said that, sweetheart, and I’m sorry that he did. I’m assuming it was after he found out about the three of you?”

You all nodded sullenly and she sighed. “It’s a shock, that’s no excuse, but it was a big shock. Maybe you should talk to him? It’s been a few days, he’s had time to think and reflect. You might be surprised.”

“Have you ever heard Max apologise?” you asked Lando and Charles. Both of their eyebrows furrowed in thought before they shook their heads. “See, Max doesn’t apologise, and I have no interest in hearing anything else from him.”

“As long as you’re doing it for yourself, honey, and not on my behalf. I have been called every name under the sun, but it's water off a duck's back. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to repair the relationship for some vindication for me. He’s your brother and you have missed so much of each other’s life already.” Your mother sighed again as she saw you had heard her words but they hadn’t broken the wall you had built. “Just think about it.”

She rose from the table, walking around it to rest her hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it,” she repeated before she left the room as you sagged in your chair like a puppet whose string had been cut.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out to see your reflection broken on the screen. It still hadn’t been repaired from the last argument you had with Max when you accidentally cracked it. Perhaps it was a good reminder to keep.

Unlocking the device, you saw the notification from family share - alerting you that your location services were in use. 

“Fucking cunt,” you groaned before hearing your name from the other end of the house. “Sorry! Can I call him a prick?”

Lando laughed and this time Charles joined in as your mother ranted to herself about your language. You couldn’t help that you grew up around mechanics and drivers, they were the most foul mouthed bunch of people. 

Reaching across, Charles took a look at your phone before updating Lando. “He tracked her.”

“What do you want to do?”

Five minutes ago you would have ditched the phone and packed the car. Five minutes ago you might have threatened harassment. Five minutes of talking with your mother changed everything. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you dropped your head in your hands until they were pulled away. You could wear a blindfold and still know exactly who was holding your hand, recognising their touch and feel with the familiarity of intimacy. “What do you think I should do?”

“I’m not ready to forgive him for how he spoke to you, amour,” Charles shrugged. “If he was my brother, I honestly don’t know if that would change anything.”

“I’ll follow your lead, baby,” Lando said as he lifted your hand to his lips. “Whatever you decide. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you look really good in that shirt,” you said as you looked at Charles for confirmation, his smirk evident. “Really, really good.”

“I always look good. Stay focused.”

“I am focused. I am going to call the gardener, and someone to fix that bloody pavement. Then, maybe, I’ll think about what to do next, it’s not like he’s going to be knocking down the door right this minute.”

Both of them turned to the door expecting to hear it knock and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not the bogeyman. He just likes to think he is.”

You took your phone back and opened the family share app, selecting Max’s phone and watched as it zeroed in on the pin drop. “Shit,” you sighed as the blue dot moved along the street. Leaning back in the chair, you craned your neck to see out the window and caught sight of an Audi SUV pulling in the driveway. “I take that back. Can we run?”

Click here for chapter eight.

#charles leclerc x reader x lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc x you #lando norris x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro watches Kaiya, and nine times out of ten, he's the most through, loving husband and father you could ever ask for. He’s mindful of what he’s doing with his daughter, but still leaves her a small amount of independence that lets her little six year old mind thrive.

But one out of ten, he crumbles. This time, is the one.

Rintaro’s finally splurged money on this game to play with osamu and akagi, and both of them are finally on, so he happily sets up Kaiya next to him while he plays, giving her coloring books and toys to make do with quietly.

When she gets bored with that, she curls up on Rintaro’s lap, tiny hands playing with his hair and hitting him with pillows.

Then, finally, after too much normal… she speaks.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, angelface?"

"Wanna be like you," she says, climbing off the couch and rocking back and forth on her heels. “Wanna look like you daddy…” Rintaro flashes a smile and turns to her, pausing the game and turning to her, leaning forwards to kiss her tiny nose akin to yours.

“Kaiya, you can be anything you want to be,” he says, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Mommy and the twins are gonna be home soon, so let’s surprise her, okay?”

“Okay daddy!” She squeals excitedly, her feet toddling back down the hall to the playroom. Rintaro chuckles and shakes his head as he unpauses his game, shooting the enemies and doing a terrible job of censoring when he loses.

He barely processes when you get home, only snapping him out of his zone when you kiss his head and he jumps a foot in the air.

“Hey momma,” he says, pausing his game and stretching. “How was the pediatrician?”

“Look dadda!” Sachiko says, showing him her arm which is covered by a my little pony bandaid.

Rintaro blows his eyes wide, “woah! My brave girl!” He reaches up to pinch her cheek playfully, which she giggles from. “How about you Sachie, you got one?”

“Ripped it off in the car,” you chuckle. “Where’s our other terrors?”

“Akito’s playing his games and Kaiya’s playing dress up,” he answers, flashing you a smile. “She wants to be like me.”

Your brows raise playfully, “oh she does, does she? Wants to be a pain in mommy’s butt?”

“Always,” he says, grinning.

You jostle the twins, “come on, let’s go check on sissy!”

“Otay mumma!”

“Yayyyy!”

Rintaro watches as you walk away with the tiny humans, shaking his head and turning back to his game with a smile, satisfied in his fatherly duties and he can’t wait to take pictures with his little mini-me, dressed in his clothes and-

“KAIYAAAA NAAAAAOOOO!”

You scream. Rin’s heart stops.

Immediately, your shriek rocks the house, making Rintaro absolutely leap off the couch, not even bothering to pause his game and making a dash up the stairs to meet you.

He sees the bathroom door open, his tiny twins watching in awe on the floor now while your hands cover your mouth in horror, and akito laughing into his fist having also been roused from his video games. At least he found this amusing.

When Rintaro pokes his head around the corner to see the action, his jaw slacks as his beautiful six year old, his tiny little mini-me and smart little stink-

Has officially cut her hair.

Short.

Just like his.

“Kaiya!” He begins, more in shock than a scold, “what did you do!”

“Wanna look like you daddy!” She cheers happily.

“THATS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT YOU MEANT!”

The two twins waddle into the room to play with the fallen hair from Kaiya’s head, gathering wads of it and trying to pass it to you.

Akito lays a hand on your shoulder, “Ma? You okay?”

Rintaro rubs a hand along your back, “babe…?”

“I leave you… with her… for FIVE. MINUTES!” You scream, and thankfully, it’s met with laughter from the three littlest children in the room. “What-! I don’t even-! When did-! RINTARO-“

“Hey hey, it’s alright!” He says easily, pulling you in for a hug, “it’s just hair baby, it’ll grow back!”

“SHE COULDVE GOTTEN HURT!”

“But she didn’t-“

“Don’t even start defending, Rintaro,” you snarl, and with fury you walk over to Kaiya and scoop her into your arms to inspect her.

Akito claps a hand on Rintaro’s back with a fresh, “good luck,” before turning on his heel to leave the bathroom and let his father be scolded. Rintaro sighs and moves to pick up the twins in his arms, watching you like a scolded child as you check her for injuries.

“I really didn’t know,” he says softly, planting a kiss to Sachie’s hair. “I just thought… she’d play dress up or something. Wear my jersey or something.”

You sigh and fist your hands tightly, “it’s got nothing to do with the actual hair cut, Rin,” you explain. “And you know I don’t care about leaving her for a bit to play video games. But she could’ve gotten so hurt! Where’d she even get scissors!”

Your teeth are gritted together roughly, so tight he wanted to massage your jaw to make it better.

But he’s positive if he touched you, you’d bite him.

“We were doing arts and crafts,” he answers quietly.

You take a deep inhale in through your nose, then slowly release it from your mouth, “come on Kaiya. Show mommy your crafts.” You bounce her slightly with a smile, “daddy’s gotta go stand in time out until he’s 40!”

She giggles while you two leave, leaving him with the twins playing with the collar of his shirt.

“Mumma mad?” Sachie asks.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles.

“Dadda bad?” Sachiko asks.

Once again, he chuckles and plants a kiss to their heads, making them giggle and plop wet kisses on his cheeks, “ohhh yeah…

“He sure is, girls.”

——

Tagging 🥺🩷 @reverie-starlight @wolffmaiden @thoreeo @aliensknowmyillusions @tutuwusworld @lavishcherie @sassycheesecake @cheolattes @rrairey @dira333 @unknownspecies @fluffytriceratops

#suna rintaro #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x f!reader #suna rintaro x reader fluff #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna #suna fluff #suna x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna x f!reader #suna imagine #suna haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #dad!haikyuu #dad!au #dad!suna rintaro #dad!suna #dad!hq

[mentality-project]

Carry Me Home

Morpheus x Fem!reader

Pushing your way through the crowded bar, you welcome the brisk night air as you stumble onto the streets of London. Blowing off steam with your favourite coworkers at the end of the week had been much-needed fun, but now you were ready for home. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your favourite scenes from the night replay in your head, your hands burying into your coat pockets to keep warm. You hum to the tune of the song stuck in your head, the crowds thinning out the closer you get to home. You notice the change in atmosphere five minutes later than you should have, the sound of a raven's caw overhead bringing you back to the present moment.

You hear them before you see them, the rowdy laughter and loud explosions of curse words giving away their position. A glance at the reflective shop front across the street tells you there's three men behind you. Fuck. It could be nothing, but even so...you'd rather not find out. Your feet pick up the pace, but despite your best efforts they sound louder. Closer.

The raven's caw pierces the night air once again, causing you to flinch but you don't stop walking until you barrel into a wall of black. Two hands grab the back of your elbows to steady you, your wide-eyed gaze snapping up to your captor. Relief floods your nervous system at the sight of the familiar stern face.

“Morphy-baby~ I need a ride! Would you be a dear and take me home?”

“You are intoxicated.”

“Maybe~”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“More than enough.” You are oblivious to the withering glare Morpheus sends towards the drunken trio of men before whisking you off to your apartment. --- "Whoa, headrush!" you giggle as you stumble in the hallway as the sand dissipates, "Don't think I'll ever get used to that." Morpheus' gentle grip on your forearms helps you still your clumsy feet, your tipsy giggles falling silent as you get lost in the galaxy of his eyes. Your lips curl up in amazement as you grip the lapels of his coat, "You have such pretty eyes, Morphy...", your smile falters as the next unfiltered thought crosses your mind, "it's not fair."

You don't notice the way he huffs through his nose, disgruntled with the unwanted nickname that has been bestowed upon him.

"You are drunk."

"Yes~ I am~!" your singsong voice is shameless.

"You should be in bed." "You're not the boss of me," you pout up at him.

The Dream Lord says your name in that hypnotic voice of his that sounds like a seduction and a warning rolled into one, and just like that, your defiance shrinks away. "But I'm not even...sleepy..." the yawns that interrupt your protest betray you. "Is that so?" Dream's eyes glint with amusement in the darkness. "Okay, okay, fine! I'll go to bed, but only if you carry me." Morpheus stares down at you while you blink up at him. You had never dared to be so petulant with him before. But then again, he had never encountered you drunk. You yelp when he scoops you up into his arms, kicking your heels off as Morpheus heads for the stairs with you in tow. He is carrying you like you're nothing.

"Oh Mylanta~ Morphy~ you're actually carrying me to bed."

"You insisted."

"Well, yeah...but I didn't think you'd actually do it." King of Dreams is silent and you wonder what's going on in there - long-suffering sigh or an internal scream. It's only when he heads for the doorway to your bedroom that you start to squirm in his arms, "Wait, wait!"

Morpheus raises his eyebrow at you, arms still wound tight around your body. You point to the bathroom. "I need the bathroom. Gotta wash my face. Sleeping in makeup is a sin."

The midnight-haired being obliges you as he carries you into the bathroom, setting you down in front of the sink before he perches on the edge of your bathtub to watch you work. You go in on your eyes and lips with a bottle of liquid remover and cotton balls, following up with some facial wipes. You frown at your reflection while you're on your fourth wipe, unable to ignore the nagging in your head that argues that since you've gotten this far, you really ought to wash your face properly. Your hands are slathered in cleansing balm before you realise that you forgot to tie up your hair.

"Hold my hair back, Morph?" Morpheus is silent as he stands behind you to oblige you, and you watch his reflection in the mirror as he smooths your hair back with both hands before gathering your locks in one hand.

"Cheers, dear." you murmur as you rub the melted balm over your face.

You rinse and repeat with cleanser before following up with moisturiser. A few moments of silence pass when you turn to face Morpheus, blinking up at him.

"I need to pee." you announce before shoving the unsuspecting Endless into the hallway and closing the door behind you.

Morpheus has no time to react and you crack the door open like an afterthought as you peer through the gap. "You're still tucking me in, right?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

The door shuts again, soon followed by the sound of the toilet flushing, then running water. The door flings open and Morpheus is greeted with the sight of you brushing your teeth. You mumble around your toothbrush, using your free hand to guide Morpheus' hand to your hair. He gets the gist, because by the time you're standing in front of the mirror, he's holding your hair in a ponytail again. He lets go as you turn to face him.

"I need a shower, but I'm too lazy."

Morpheus lifts his hand and you're captivated by the stardust that swirls around you. When it lifts, you're in your favourite sleepwear and feeling more squeaky-clean than you ever have in your life.

"Did you just -" you cut yourself off as you run your hands along your arms, through your hair and sniff the collar of your shirt, "did you just glamour magic me clean?"

"Yes."

"How amazing." your voice is hushed as you breath out.

"What was that?" you're oblivious to the amusement that tugs at Morpheus' lips.

"How amazing!" you repeat louder, looking up at Morpheus with wide eyes.

"Will you go to bed now?"

"Yes!" you grin as you put your hand on Morpheus' shoulders before you jump up to wrap your limbs around him like a koala, "I'm ready!" The huff of his breath almost sounds like laughter as his hands grip your thighs, turning on his heel to finally carry you to bed. You gasp as he sets you down and pulls the covers over you.

"Ooh, you're tucking me in~"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I love it." you grin up at Morpheus before patting the spot next to you, "come here, Morph."

Morpheus sits next to you and you shake your head as you pull the blanket out from under him, "No, lie down. I don't want you sitting near my face. What if you fart?"

"(Y/N), I am Endless. Endless do not -"

"Lie down, please!" you smack the bed as you raise your voice, feeling quite pleased with yourself when the Dream Lord complies.

You shimmy over to his body, throwing your leg over his as you lie your head on his shoulder, curling an arm around his chest.

"This feels nice," you smile as you close your eyes.

Morpheus doesn't respond, but a few moments later you feel his hand rise from your shoulder to stroke your hair and it makes you melt into him even more.

"Ohhh...I love you." you mumble into his coat.

"What did you say?"

"I love you. Please don't stop doing that." your eyes refuse to open as you feel yourself drift further and further into sleep with each stroke.

"Sleep well, (Y/N). I will meet you in The Dreaming."

#the sandman #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #not my gifs #dream x reader #dream of the endless #netflix the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus

[wroteclassicaly]

maybe I'm late to kink hour but cmon Gator has a spit kink

Oooh, he probably has so many kinks he’s never been able to try, tbh. But we’ll focus on this one for now ;)

Warnings: Spit, spit kink, & language. Kinda smutty, but no actual smut?

It starts off with normal banter and moves quicker than anticipated. You’ve been annoying Gator in the office all day, even following him outside to bitch. No one else got involved with helping him at home, not really. So you’d rode in the patrol car to his place, pissed and bitching about the cold and the snow (despite being used to it), and why he can’t get someone else who will tolerate him.

“People are busy, s’ why they aren’t around. You know that.”

“Probably one of the reasons, is because of that nasty fucking thing.” You sneer, criticizing with a gloved hand towards his gross flavored vape.

His accentuated jawline tightens, freckles bouncing with the movement of his skin as it stretches across the bone. A cloud of vapor expands into winter’s frost, polluting the air with an acidic fruit scent. You make a gagging noise, egging him on when you see how pissed he’s getting. You don’t realize, that in the midst of enjoying his unease, he loses his temper and reacts. With a quick movement of hair gel gleaming under the winter sun - his calculated movements catch when your mouth opens next to mimic him.

His lips part and he leans, spitting a wad directly into your mouth. You’re appalled at first, shocked, literally choking on - not your own saliva, but his. And it tastes exactly like the item he inhales one more hit off of, before blowing it into your face.

Are your eyes watering? Ears ringing? Blood rushing? Yes, but not because of sadness, anxiety, or anger. No, it’s a buried emotion of what you’ve gambled on since you’ve known him, and among the bodily exchange - a realization. You liked it. You feel claimed, rather than mocked.

“That taste good, babydoll? You’re lucky I wasn’t chewin’.” His boots crunch in the snow as he attempts to walk away, but you reach out and grab his leather clad arm, squeezing.

You aren’t sure what you attempted to accomplish? A half assed remark, a berating lashing? As Gator turns and receives your physical message, he raises a brow, bordering on amused, annoyed, and ready to fight. But what he sees isn’t what he’d expect in a million years. You don’t spit, you swallow - straight down, your pupils expanding rapidly, eyes darting towards his mouth, still wet with projectile.

He’s got power. All the power here in this moment, but more importantly — you accepted what he gave and then you imprinted on him, the mold of keys to open previously locked doors between the two of you. His fingers reach out and dig the class ring (similar to his own, that he keeps put away) from beneath your blouse, that’s visible through your partially zipped coat. He tugs you closer, his frame smelling of cologne, copious amounts of hair product, and that damn vape. It’s overwhelming and you can’t focus, not even to answer him.

“You really liked that, didn’t you?”

You avoid his gaze.

“Come on now, darlin’. You afraid to look at me again? Because I don’t know if you were there with me a minute ago, but you were eyein’ my mouth like it was a sugar coated carnival prize.”

Still nothing. He wants more. He needs more.

That crafted nose nuzzles its way behind your ear, hot air on your neck that travels straight to your nipples and curls your toes as they sit in your boots. His voice is a low whisper, a damned rasp.

“You know what else I could spit on?”

// Eat me paragraph //

#kristenwrites #gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x you #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fic #gator tillman blurb #gator tillman drabble #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x female reader #fargo #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #fargo fanfic #fargo fic #fargo fanfiction #kink hour

[moonybug444]

chill day

um??? sex

it’s a chill day. soft rain pouring outside. wind blowing, but not enough to be noisy. no traffic around, just the sound of the rain hitting the roof window in your room.

you’re laying up against the headboard on your fluffy bed—soft hands absentmindedly playing with the pink hanging canopy bed drapes. the other scratching against connie’s overgrown buzz cut as his head lays against your bare thigh. this is nice.

connie looks up at you, watching another episode of hello kitty and friends on your macbook pro—giggling to yourself.

it’s around 3ish in the afternoon and you two have done nothing but lay around in your pjs all day. he came over the other day to your apartment and had yet to leave. he didn’t even bother packing anything—half his shit is scattered around your room anyway.

he’s thumbing over your panties—the cute white ones he loves with the little red ribbon right at the top—when he hears you sigh out his name.

“connie, are you looking?” you take your hand off your curtains and itch at your collarbone, bringing his attention to the bite marks on your neck.

“yeah baby,” here it comes. “you know how much i love watching weird talking animals do weird talking animal shit.” you grin to yourself. knew it.

he sits up, stretching his arms until his shirt rides up a little—exposing the happy trail fading towards his tummy.

sure does make you happy.

he’s standing now, looking down at you smile at him like a love-struck puppy—big eyes gleaming up at him.

“what’re you lookin at?” he fakes annoyance, leaning down to trap you on the bed—his hands caging you in.

you giggle dreamily, finger coming up to trace his sharp jawline. “you, you’re really cute.”

he puts on a disgusted face. clenching his fists and giving light one, two jabs to your jaw. listening to you giggle at him.

“hmm,” he glances to your pretty lips, “gimme a kiss then.” he does that weird thing where he puts his tongue over his top lip & pouts, leaning in to you.

“ew. connie quit it!” you laugh loud when you push at his chest. he backs you into the headboard—nowhere to go.

“thought you said i was cute?”

“nuh uh,” you feel him rub on your ass. big hands running up & down your back before pausing to squeeze and repeating. you peck his lips.

“what the fuck was that?” his brows furrow, “want a better kiss than that, princess.”

you lean in, slowly rubbing your lips across. pecking, pulling away, pecking, pulling away, before you feel his tongue slide into your mouth, tangling with yours. he’s softly biting your bottom lip when he’s pulling away, a trail of saliva following when he delivers a rough smack to your ass before pulling you back in.

you whine into his mouth, already getting drunk off of just his lips. connie’s always been a good kisser, even when he was just a beginner to everything. he always caught onto the concept fairly quick.

he’s pulling you by your thighs towards the edge of the bed so you can lay flat on the back before he’s getting on top of you and pulling away for air.

“you good?” you’re already huffing and connie finds it cute, though he tries to hide the amusement in his face with a furrow in his brows and a faux concerning tone.

“y-yes…m’good.”

he’s pushing your knees up to your ears before you can even respond fully. getting a fresh view of the little mess your pussy made in her panties. he coos and rubs a thumb over your clothed clit, humming when you shudder.

“ya wanna have fun or ya wanna watch hello kitty n friends all day?”

you sniffle, “wan’…wanna have fun.”

he grins at you, leaning down to place a single kiss on your nose before giving one harsh hump against your panty-clad cunt.

“fuckkk,” he moans loud before continuing. grinding himself on you hard and fast, handling your tits for leverage. “feel you soaking through my boxers princess, you want it?”

you rub your hands over his chest, eyes following the bulge that started swelling up through his boxers as he humps you, “wan’ it s’bad..wan’ it in me connie.” you whimper when you feel him grind against your clit.

“shit.” abruptly he pulls away his hips, “get it wet baby.”

you’re already taking him out his boxers, rubbing the slit a little before spitting in your hand to coat his cock, he moans and humps into it, trying to match the pace of your strokes.

you start to get a little impatient now. as much as you love watching connie’s pretty cock twitch in your hold while you make him feel good, you love the feeling of him inside you more. stopping your ministrations on his dick you look up at him with big teary eyes and a pretty pout on your lips. “connie…”

“aw, i’m sorry baby,” he gives a fat smooch to your cheek before shoving your panties to the side and spitting right on your cunt. “m’right here.”

you you yelp when he slides three fingers in your entrance without warning, little hands springing up to push him away. connie’s fingers were just so thick. everything about connie was thick. sometimes you find yourself struggling with just one of his fingers so for him to just shove three in there without any warning had tears streaming down your pretty face.

“shh. i know, i know. taking it so well baby, such a good girl.” he watches your expression go blank and a loud drawn out whine escape your lips when he curls his fingers against a specific part in your cunny. “right here huh?”

he abuses that spot until he can tell you’re used to his fingers and lines his cock up, ignoring the look on your face that almost says, ‘finally.’

he likes when you get in your cute little, ‘im a big girl, i can take it’ moods. like you don’t start screaming and crying as soon as his fat cock is in if your pussy doesn’t get princess treatment for at least 15-20 minutes. it’s ok though, he’ll give you what you want today.

he’s pushing his hands against your thighs to slowly slide into you, his thick cock stretching you out beyond comprehension.

he’s only about an inch or two in when you stop him, you tried your hardest to be a big girl but it’s just too fat, feels like he’s splitting you open.

“wait—ngh—wait…s’big.” connie rubs against your pudgy tummy before leaning down to kiss you once on your forehead, cooing down on you.

“m’almost in pretty baby” he wasn’t he still had about 6 more inches to go. ”just a little more ok? i know it hurts but you’re my big girl right?”

“uh huh..” he starts pushing back in slowly. “ ‘m your—ngh—a big girl..”

“yeah you are.” and in one harsh thrust he’s all the way in, splitting you open. you’re immediately pushing at his lower tummy trying to get him to let up some. you were barely even calmed with the one inch so for him to push all of it it. you felt like you were gonna die.

“omgomg. s’big, s’big—s’too much…!”

connie just shushes you and leans down, kissing at your nose. he knows it takes you a minute to adjust to his cock. you start crying and you throw a fit and then you’re cumming in a matter of seconds. he thinks it’s cute.

he brings his hand down to rub your clit, rolling his eyes when he hears you keep whining, ‘m’gonnadiem’gonnadie’ underneath him. his dramatic girl.

he can tell you’ve calm down when he started rubbing on your clit a little. pulling the hood up going roundnround till you start twitching and whining. you’re about ok now. he pushes hard on your thighs while he fucks you. his cock sliding out before he’s ramming it all back inside. continuing his ministrations on your clit.

it only takes a little bit of this before he feels your pussy giving him what he wants. a pretty shower.

“oh yeah,” he moans loudly in your ear. “good girl baby, this pussy is such a good girl.”

your mouth forms a small o when you feel connie’s dick rub repeatedly at that sensitive goo inside you. you can’t help but scratch at his back, doing all you can to fuck yourself back against him.

“right— right there, baby.” you feel your eyes and your pussy water at the same time. “m’cumming..!”

he feels it before you even say it. it takes two, three more fucks into your desperate cunt before she’s crying and giving him what he needs. he’s following quickly after that, hopelessly humping into your pretty pussy.

“ohhhh, shit.” he pulls out, moaning to himself, hand immediately flying to his cock to pump it. “lif—lift your s-shirt up.”

you watch as all your juices on his dick slide with every pump. making your pussy tighten. he’s fucking into his hand now, throwing his head back with his eyes sealed shut. it takes one look to your pretty pussy and then his eyes glance back to your face before he’s cumming. thick droops landing right on your tummy, trailing up to your tits.

you’re huffing when he’s done. trying to sit yourself up but you just plop right back down.

“why did you do thatttt. connie!”

“what?—”

“it almost hit my face. connie, y’know i hate it on my face—” he knows you do. that’s why he tried his best to avoid it so he didn’t have to hear you whine. he only likes the whines that comes out of your mouth when he’s fucking you. the ‘your cocks too big, connie!’ whining. not the petty bitchy whining.

“shuddup,” he rolls his eyes at you. grabbing you softy but securely around your neck. “gimme a kiss.”

#connie springer #connie x reader #aot connie #aot smut #aot x reader #connie springer smut #connie smut #connie springer aot #smut #female reader #one shot

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Hook Siblings Bonding Time

Might or might not involve murder. They are not sure.

Enjoy?

Also, a gold star for anyone who guesses what happens next.

They stalk through the Isle, all three of them at once. Three crimson red figures, the colour of spilled blood that’s just starting to dry, three matching wide smirks. Three sets of weapons on the ready.

It is no surprise the prisoners of the Isle of the Lost leap out of the way of the fearsome Hook siblings.

CJ smirks wider yet at the thought, showing off her sharp teeth in the always-dying light.

It is not often they get together like this, you see, all three of them, not too often at all: But ever so often, they do. Just to terrorise the Isle a bit, remind them they should be rightfully scared of the Hook name; or to get some loot together, shit that’s better to get in the haul: Decent clothes, makeup – new eyeliner is always needed. Alcohol. Her older siblings are running low, CJ knows, and Ettie in particular is starting to get quite snappy. And though CJ can’t understand this hobby of theirs, really, she is still more than happy to go with them.

She enjoys the attention, you see.

She slashes her sabre into the crowd that doesn’t move away fast enough in her opinion; Harriet cackles and sends the street rats running. „Any targets tugging at your hearts?“ she asks carelessly and tosses her hair about. CJ repeats the gesture.

„I say we go for Gothel’s,“ says Harry, „They’ve got good stuff.“

„Oh yeah let’s! We can get some make up!“ CJ agrees enthusiastically. They do have make up, that’s true, and some jewels too: Ettie got them for Ginny. And everyone knows it’s more fun to steal when it will piss off your older siblings.

CJ personally, she wants to find out how mad she can make them before they actually carry out any of their threats.

„We are not going to Gothel’s,“ Harriet slashes her blade through the air to show her distaste, „Pick a different target, or I’m picking.“

„Why not Gothel’s, sister dear?“

„Is it because your witch would refuse to speak with you if you looted her mother?“ CJ inquires and quickly dodges Harriet’s sabre.

„It is not,“ she says unconvincingly, „I’m simply not in the mood to walk that far.“ She turns her nose up.

„That’s all it is, soror cara, I am sure,“ Harry drawls, „Nothing to do with the fact that you can‘t stand her silent treatment.“

„Look who is speaking, brother dear,“ she snarls back.

CJ stabs a street rat that doesn’t have the decency to pretend they are not listening to her siblings’ extremely entertaining love lives.

„Yes, yes, you are both in love, we know,“ she throws her hands up and almost stabs Harry, who remains entirely unfazed, „Let’s go somewhere now, I wanna do something!“

„Fine.“

„Fine.“

Her siblings send last venomous glares at one another and the alley is almost empty now.

CJ stomps her feet. „Now!“

Harriet just cackles, but when Harry says „Yzma’s right there, how ’bout that, starfish?“ she gestures for them to go on, and yes! Yzma always has cool stuff! Potions and fun new ways to blow shit up, all that’s important, basically. Plus, it’s not like Zevon would protest, and his sister is always hanging around Hell Hall or something.

They walk to the door and CJ looks at her older siblings expectantly.

„Your turn, Callie,“ Harriet cackles, „Gotta practice, little one.“

„Hey! I’m not little!“ she protests to the ongoing amusement of her siblings, „And I could pick a lock in my sleep!“

„Could you though?“ drawls Harry, stiffing up his laughter for a moment, „You’re always hanging off of that Shadow Witch…“ He doesn’t even finish his sentence before CJ looks away, hiding her burning cheeks. Freddie’s simply better at this, which doesn’t mean CJ isn’t utterly exceptional herself.

„Practice makes perfect, corculum,“ Harriet prods her, and CJ fishes some hairpins out of her hair.

Just as she says, they are inside in no time; she slams the door behind them hard enough for the glass to shake. Harry sneers at it and drives the tip of his hook into it. CJ pauses for a breath as they watch it shatter.

Pretty.

Very pretty, sharp and shiny.

„Hey!“ Harriet reminds them impatiently, „We came here for something?!“

Yeah, they did. Right? Probably.

Ettie seems to remember it, and Harry too, so CJ leaves them to look for the not-shiny stuff they seem to want, and wanders around the shop a bit.

She has never understood what even Yzma is selling – and she might have spaced out the tiniest bit when Zevon tried to explain it to her. About three to fifteen times.

She blows away some cobwebs from a mildly interesting amulet. Looks like it has some dried blood inside, huh. Seems like something Freddie would appreciate, thus, CJ slips it into her pockets.

Right. Alcohol. Her sibling wanted alcohol. Yzma could have that, CJ would say: Colourful bottles of substances lay all around. Some are weirdly shaped and some are sealed.

CJ uses her nail to lift off the etiquette out of the nearest flask: „Oh, look!“ she announces, „I think this potion transforms people into fleas on rats!“

„Obviously,“ drawls Harry, „How else could you bash them to death with your hammer after you used the postal service to mail them to yourself?“

„Yzma didn’t do that, did she?“ Harriet pauses mid motion, trying to remember which crazy plan Yzma went with, and, yeah, CJ doesn’t care. She goes round the shop, looking at the pictures that are Yzma’s sorting system, and picking the most colourful flasks to let the light shine through them. She opens one, the flask full of particularly shiny opalesque liquid. She immediately recoils at the smell.

„Ew!“ she calls out, „Harry, go check this out!“

„What is it, starfish?“ he asks, not particularly interested in abandoning the cash register right now. Well, too bad.

„Come look!“

He sighs overdramatically and pushes everything off the counter and CJ has to shake her head to stop looking at the falling and breaking glass and trinkets.

„Look what I found.“ She pushes the flask basically under his nose and in turn, he pushes her hand away.

„Hmm.“

Harriet mutters something under her breath and CJ doesn’t really bother to listen. Ettie can deal with it.

„I bet you wouldn’t drink that,“ CJ says, shaking the flask in the air.

„Me?“ Harry eyes the vile-smelling liquid warily, „What about me, starfish, you wouldn’t drink it!“

„So would!“

„Prove it!“

„None of you are drinking Yzma’s potions, evil knows what that shit does!“ snaps Harriet as she comes over. She tears the flask out of CJ’s hands. „Fuck, that’s vile.“

CJ has just been saying that!

She takes the potion back and accuses: „You’re just saying that cos you wouldn’t drink it! You’re a coward!“

„No, no. The annoying small thing has a point.“ For that, CJ drives her heel into her brother’s foot. Here.

„Ow! Calista Jane!“

„Quiet, both of you!“ Harriet barks out, dealing a quick slap to the tops of their heads, „You are insufferable.“

„And you, sister, are a killjoy.“

„And a coward,“ adds CJ with a pout.

„Oh give it here,“ Harriet snatches the flask again, „No one calls me a coward.“ She taps over her pockets with her other hand, searching for something. „Besides, they ain’t much I wouldn’t drink by this point.“

CJ refuses to think about this sentence too much.

„Mood.“

And this one too.

Finally, Harriet finds what she was searching for: Metal shot glasses fished from her inner pocket. „Anthony insists on those,“ she says, „So, I drink, we all drink. Deal?“

„Deal,“ CJ grins as she says this in unison with her older brother.

„Great.“ Harriet sticks the shots into their hands and fills it with the opalescent potion and CJ manages not to cough at the smell. She makes a face, though.

„No take backs, now,“ Harry reminds her, making a sour face too.

„Exactly,“ agrees Harriet, „Now, on the count of three: One– Two– Three!“

CJ shots the potion back together with her siblings.

#disney descendants #harry hook #harriet hook #cj hook #hook siblings #tw violence #tw alcohol

[lexa-griffins]

Lexa accidentally summons incubus Clarke on Halloween night

It was supposed to be a funny joke. The pentagram and the summoning, it was all a ah ah joke. Its Halloween and she's an single childless adult with no plans who found a scary looking book at years sale and she thought it would be funny to try.

Lexa doesnt believe in demons. Or angels. Or god. This is just a way for her to amuse herself and maybe scare herself just because its the day for it.

She doesnt recall much for latin lessons but its enough for her to know how to pronounce the words in the book to summon something that Lexa can vaguely translate as "sex demon". All she needed was the pentagram, a few red candles that she already had laying around and a willing soul. Lexa is not too sure id that means "willing to die" or "willing to fuck" but to be fair she could be classified as both.

Nothing happens as she suspected. She repeats the words once more and nothing. The third time she does it there is mocking in her voice, cocky saying them as apprehension as quickly been replaced by the smugness of a non believer.

"I knew it was bullshit." She whispers, turning to blow out the candles. As she does, the entire circle of flames goes dark.

Did she leave a window op-

A flash of light as the flames burn once again, brighter than before. In the middle of the circle something starts to take form and Lexa scrawls back, away from the light. Flames. Hell.

"Hello there pretty pet." Low and raspy, almost as if inside her head a voice whispers to her.

Lexa closes her eyes, the light too bright for her to see. As she opens then back again the light is gone and in its place a woman. No, a demon.

Curled horns exit the woman's skull through her short blonde locks, glowing as bright as the fire that surrounded her moments before. She is naked, staring Lexa with her piercing blue eyes that could ignite a fire in Lexa's core.

"What-" Lexa's stunt as she stares ahead.

The woman scrunches her nose and licks her lips as if she can smell Lexa's arousal wafting through the air, and Lexa wants to close her legs and squeeze them as if that would keep her away.

Glorious body fully on display, Lexa can only describe her as the physical embodiment of lust and temptation with her voluptuous breasts and her soft yet impressive dick soft that hangs lazily between her legs.

"What are you?" Lexa asks incredulous. Whatever she is, she's definitely not human.

"A demon. A sex demon. Some say incubus others succubus. Humans are rather weird with the gender thing, let me you. Should you not know that, tho? Or do you enjoy summoning demons for the fun of it?"

The demon walks towards her, and Lexa finds herself frozen in place, processing it all. She was sure it was a joke. A sex demon? Who would want to have sex with a demon?

"You would." The demon whispers once again sultry and low. Is she in her mind?

"Kinda, im supposed to be able to tell your inner desires and thoughts. Pet, you really want a good fuck dont you?"

Lexa stares at the demon, staring at her with such pity in her eyes, seeming truly sorry for the fact Lexa hasnt been laid in five years. She could lie. Or perhaps she couldnt, the demon seemed to be inside her head. And maybe Lexa wouldn't mind if she was inside of her in another way....

Lexa swallows dryly "Yes..."

A smile curls on her lips and Lexa is hit with a wave of heat, her cheeks red, her entire body warm and her cunt feels suddenly like its burning with desire. A moan over nothing escapes her and the beast pounces her like she's prey.

The demons body is burning above, her skin soft to the touch. Lexa wants to scream at first, but quickly, the burn turns pleasurable, a pain much welcomed. The demon's lips are scalding and addicting, like an exotic spice Lexa can not tolerate yet is unable to stop consuming. Her tongue enters her mouth freely as she presses herself more on top of Lexa, her larger chest a wonder weight against Lexa's.

Releasing Lexa's lips with a bite, the demon traces her devilishly long tongue down her body until she is facing Lexa's dripping cunt.

"The promised land." She hears the demon whispers against her entrance, before her toungue takes a swipe at the wetness.

"Ah!" Lexa moans against the demons' lips.

Burning fingers hold her jaw, "Clarke. You can call me Clarke, pet." Another lick, "Hold on to my horns. You're going for a ride."

Lexa hesitates for just a moment before Clarke buries her tongue inside of her and Lexa's hand automatically move to her horns, holding on for dear life as the demon eats the literal hell out of her.

She had never cum quite like that, never as hard, never as much, never as quickly.

"Oh fuck." Lexa moans as Clarke finally exists her, face dripping with Lexa's release.

She needs a moment to breath to collect herself.

"No time for that pet, my cock is burning to be inside of you."

At the mention of the member Lexa looks between Clarke's legs and gasps. She saw it at first but now she is truly seeing it. It looks hellish. In the most wondeful of ways.

"That is too much." Lexa manages to speak, voice hoarse from moaning.

The demon chuckles and Lexa's core spams at it.

"We'll make it fit. I always do."

Lexa shivers and feels wetness drip from her with renewed arousal. Fuck, she needs to make it fit. Lexa doesn't think she'll be able to look at herself knowing she didnt get all of this demon's dick inside of her.

Lexa opens her legs and Clexa smirks, "no pet," a strong hand hold her waist and turns her around, forcing her on all fours.

Clarke drapes herself over her and immediately Lexa can feel the heaviness of her cock against her.

"Deep breath. It wont hurt, but itll stretch you really good"

It does. Fuck it does. As clarke aligns herself with Lexa's cunt just the tip makes Lexa see stars. When clarke does not move further, Lexa forces herself down her dick, moaning and shivering at every inch that enters her.

"Like that Lexa, like that."

Lexa feels the small bulge on her belly the same moment she feels Clarke stomach against her ass.

"Fuck, fuck. Clarke." She’s barely coherent. And she realizes this is exactly what the demon wants. To leave Lexa a shell of herself, desperate only for her.

She doesnt care. Maybe that is what Lexa wants too.

"Does that feel good pet?" Clarke asks sweetly, a hand gently massaging Lexa's scalp.

Lexa hums, falling for it.

"Good." Sweetness gone., Clarke forces Lexa's head down and her hips further up, "Time for a breeding pet?"

Lexa's eyes roll inside her head just at the mention.

"Yes Clarke, yes."

It is brutal. Humanly impossible to take a fucking like this and feel as good as she does. The demon is unforgiving in her thrusts, going as deep as she can everytime and somehow each stoke feels better than the last one. Lexa's brain is consumed by her, her touch, her dick, her chest against her back, the praise that leaves her mouth.

From a non-believer to her most dedicated follower, Lexa thinks she'd follow Clarke back to the flames of hell if she could.

Her head is yanked back, a hand holding her throat as Clarke's tongue finds hers, an awkward angle as Clarke kisses her upside down, forcing her dick impossible deep and cumming there, and Lexa feels herself burning with pleasure inside out, cumming alongside her.

As Clarke's hand and tongue leave her Lexa falls forwards again, hips and ass still in the air.

She's between consciousness and sleep. Still she feels the softness of Clarke's lips on her forehead.

"Until next time pet."

Lexa wants to beg her to stay bt without strenght she's left there, cunt up and dripping the demon's cum watching as Clarke returns to the circle and blows her a kiss just as the brightness of flames consumes her.

Clarke cums inside of Lexa, pulling out when Lexa is still gaining her strength. She kisses Lexa softly and enters the circle again, leaving Lexa there.

The next night, Lexa draws the pentagram once more, lighting the candles one by one, the latin chant pronounced with the desire of a true believer.

She smiles lovingly as the demon appears in front of her once again. Lexa does not waste time presenting herself to her mistress.

"There's my pretty pet."

#letter opened #wanheda's dagger #THIS TOOK ME HOURS TO WRITE I AM SO SORRY 😭😭😭😭😭 #thank you heda-in-the-clouds for helping me with Clarke's description my ass was stuck on that 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 #anyways i might go and summon a demon who wants to join? 😳

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 10: Drunk Sex | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie munson x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, Drunk sex, dubcon due to said drunkness, riding, implied facesitting, no protection (wrap it!!), semi-public sex (they're in his van in the woods but whatever), reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Eddie picks you up to celebrate his birthday with whiskey and stargazing, only to end up getting a present from you in a different form than usual.

A/N: holy shit i told myself i would make this one only like 800 words but noooo I had to push. This is also kind of cute and intimate. Oh well, it's late and i'm tired! I haven't written for Eddie in a second but I hope yall enjoy!

It’s cold in Eddie’s van, the back doors open to ‘let some air in’ as he had said, but you wonder if it’s actually just an excuse to tangle your legs with his and press your flushed cheek to his equally warm chest. He had picked you up from your job, insisting that you ride with him and he’d take you back to your car in the morning. You agreed, since it was his birthday and god he just had to look at you with the widest eyes possible.

So, you sat in his van drinking and telling stories until the sun set behind the hills of Hawkins, now pointing at the stars and naming them. Eddie loves listening to you talk about the stars, even if you are forgetting a few of them right now and he has no clue what you’re talking about. 

“See that one?” you question, waggling your finger at the sky until he looks away from you, peering out the back. “I think so,” he murmurs, voice low and slurred just slightly, the warm whiskey settling into the pit of your stomachs easily. “It’s a bear,” you hum, dropping your hand back down to hold his waist, nosing against his chest until he turns his head and kisses your temple. 

“I don’t know how you remember all of this stuff, baby,”  Eddie shifts to pull your body on top of his, grunting when you settle completely. A breeze blows through the back, making you shiver and press harder into him as if he could fight the wind for you. If you would ask him, he’d say yes. “We learned about it in fifth grade Eds, I just don’t think you were listening,” Eddie grunts as you shift, hands settling on your ass to keep you from moving more. 

“Probably not,” he confirms, groaning under his breath when you move again, unknowingly pressing down onto his crotch. It takes a bit longer for your brain to catch up with Eddie’s predicament, his cock pressing into your abdomen for about two minutes before you notice. 

“Oh,” you grin, planting your hands on the floor beside his shoulders and pushing yourself up until you’re seated on him. It’s dark to the point that you need to squint to truly see him, his hair frizzed and splayed out beneath his head, cheeks tinted rosy red from the celebratory alcohol in his system. “Can I give you a present, Eddie? Do you want me to ride you?” you whisper, waiting for an answer before moving any further. 

His tongue flits out to wet his lips, his grip on your backside firm as he pulls you forward in a short motion that causes you both to moan “yes, please.” 

Your movements are unbalanced as you try to back up enough to tug at the button of his faded jeans, wobbling slightly and nearly toppling off of him as you both giggle at yourselves, Eddie’s hands coming up to hold yours until you’re able to gather your bearings once more. “Careful baby,” he grins, long lashes brushing against his cheekbones as he blinks up at you, adoration clouding his gaze. The warmth in his tone makes you shiver, forcing yourself to focus on the small metal piece keeping you from touching him. Eddie watches you with an amused expression, rubbing his thumbs against your thighs. 

“Why is this so fucking hard,” you grumble, the buzz in your fingers becoming more annoying than it was enjoyable before. The button finally pops out of the loop after a minute, your arms shooting into the air as you whoop triumphantly. “That was s- so much fun to watch, seriously, I think we should do it again,” Eddie teases, jokingly reaching for it before you swat at his hand, tugging at the zipper and tugging the waistband past his ass to his mid-thigh. 

“Yeah keep laughing shithead,” you say with as much affection as possible, fire lighting in your stomach when Eddies stops laughing to moan as your hand finally grips him under his boxers. His eyes pinch shut, lips parted around a gasp, your grip on his cock light as you twist your wrist and pump him in your hand. 

“Baby, I love you so much and this is so fucking hot- but I will not last right now if you keep going,” Eddie forces out honestly, muttering curse words under his breath when you pull him free and climb back up his legs, bunching your skirt to your waist and pulling the crotch of your underwear to the side. The glimpse you get of his dick before you straddle him completely is one you’re grateful for, flush and twitching under your watchful eye, the tip beading with precum. 

There’s something inherently romantic about riding him in the back of his van on his birthday after stargazing, and you wish that you could snap a picture of what he looks like at this moment. Splayed beneath you with bitten raw lips, brown curls sticking to his forehead and cheeks red from the alcohol in his system, letting you take the reins with such willingness and trust it makes your heart ache. You line yourself up with his cock and lower yourself just enough for him to press into you, then reaching for his hands and placing them on your hips. 

“Go ahead, Eds. It’s your day. I’m yours,” your coo morphing into a sigh when he pulls you down at the same time he plants his feet to thrust up into you. It can’t be comfortable to have sex in a t-shirt and leather jacket but Eddie’s too focused on you to mind, ignoring the rapidly climbing temperature coming from the heat between your bodies. 

“I’m so lucky,” Eddie grunts, eyes flicking to where his cock disappears into your cunt, awe written so deep into his features you wonder if that will become his permanent expression. The cotton of your underwear digs into the crook of your thigh uncomfortably, but the spinning in your head dismisses it, too focused on how each snap of his hips into yours makes your body light up. 

Once his eyebrows pull tight and his eyes roll back you know he’s close, his coordination faltering more than it already was. You can see the focus on his features as he tries his hardest to hold back, letting go of your body to run his hands down his face in concentration, legs stilling. 

“Give me- fuck, sorry, give me a second, I wanna make you cum first but I just- so close,” Eddie groans and you smile sweetly, even when you offer to make him feel good he’s still thinking of you foremost. 

“It’s okay Eddie, you can cum,” you whisper, leaning back and placing your hands palm down beside his knees to move easier, the view it gives him a pro as well. Eddie blubbers senselessly, nodding with earnestness when you start grinding forward and down, swiveling your hips for added effect. You can feel the twitch of his dick inside of you, strings of fuck leaving his mouth before he taps your ass twice and you lift off of him, panting from the exertion while he pumps himself in his own hand before cumming with a whine onto your lower stomach.

It takes several moments for Eddie to gather his composure, blinking at you in all his drunken glory before chuckling quietly to himself. It’s cute, you think, the deliriousness of his orgasm mixing with the pussy drunk look on his face. You go to readjust your underwear back into their spot but Eddie grabs your wrist, wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Take those off,” he speaks, honestly more of a breathy inhale than a statement. Raising an eyebrow questioningly, you agree “okay. May I ask why?” Eddie just hums and smacks your ass with a quick swat, making you yelp. 

“You’re going to sit on my face.” 

#kinktober #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson is alive and well thank you very much #yes they slept in the van he did not drive drunk #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eeeeeeeee #okay time to pump out another 1k words and then i can go to bed #I should really have prepped these like a month before

[thestalwartheart]

sing to the devil (i've got a vice or two)

Preparing for a mission in Crete, Q turns to a tried and tested method of stress relief. Fill for the Kinktober prompt, "Deep kissing," though it isn't especially explicit or kinky.

[Read below or on AO3]

Through a set of billowing, white gauze curtains, Bond spots Q on the balcony of their hotel suite.

They’re in Crete for a mission, but Q is making a good show of being a holidaymaker in his linen shirt and tan suede loafers. In fact, he’s easily as comfortable in the field as Bond, at least for now. So far, there’s been little to do except reconnaissance, but knowing what he does of the field, Bond expects they’ll see violence as a matter of course. Tonight, however, is a clear, calm night. It’s the sort that warms Bond’s heart to Europe and to the job that has sent him here despite all that’s happened on the continent since he became an agent.

The only sign of Q’s habitual stress is the cigarette he’s holding between his fingers as he fiddles with his burner phone. His eyes haven’t yet turned towards the pinkening sky, though there’s a beautiful sunset on the horizon.

He hardly looks up as Bond steps outside to join him.

“Bond, you’ll meet with our DGSE contact in the morning. Eleven sharp at the archaeological museum in Heraklion.”

“Must it always be a cultural site?”

“What?”

“As I recall, we met in front of a Turner painting.”

Q smiles. “Yes. How could I forget?”

“Then it was the garden at the Musée Rodin, then the Kaneiji temple—”

“Oh, I was rather pleased with that drop site.”

“—and now you’re packing me off to look at statues.”

Q flicks the ash from his cigarette into a cheap ashtray. It looks like one he’s pilfered from a local bar.

“Museums and art galleries make for good cover in tourist spots, as you well know, but don’t worry 007,” he says blithely, his gaze finally looking toward the water of Mirabello Bay. “I’m sure there’ll be more than a few good busts for you to admire.“

Bond laughs. On the other side of it, he finds the ice broken. Q puts away his phone, signalling the end of professional business for now. Maybe it’s the smoking that’s done it, but all at once, he seems a lot more loose-limbed and relaxed.

Few would believe the Quartermaster capable of enjoying himself without a keyboard or a soldering iron in hand, but Bond knows better, even if he’s only ever seen Q this relaxed at home with a cup of tea in one hand and a cat in another. Crete is a welcome change, and Bond can see the evidence of Q’s enjoyment quite clearly. He closes his eyes against the salty air and sighs, breathing it in to clear his nose of smoke. Then, he dithers over helping himself to a second cigarette.

He eventually lights another with a charming, slightly guilty air about him. He’s on holiday after all, he says. May as well indulge in a rare vice.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a smoker,” remarks Bond.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Doesn’t your generation know better?”

Q blows out a slow stream of smoke and smiles. An age joke always guarantees Q’s smile.

“University exams breed terrible habits in all of us. I’ve tried to quit, though I don’t smoke often, but I haven’t found anything that’s quite so good for stress relief.”

“Most people use a gym.”

“Oh, I hate treadmills,” says Q, crinkling his nose.

“Sex, then.”

That draws a laugh rather than a glare—thank Christ for that—and Q considers the cigarette in his hand. “Rather a lot of effort when I could just walk down to the corner shop for a pack of these.”

Bond concedes that point with an amused huff, then picks up Q’s cigarettes, which are sitting on the wide stone balcony wall. They’re Dunhill blues—expensive and appropriately English—and they fit neatly with his understanding of Q, who Bond knows to be a man of good taste even if that taste lives in stark contrast to Bond’s own. Q has always favoured quality over quantity, though something tells Bond he’d be just as uncompromising in his standards even if it were about the quantity.

It’s one of the things Bond respects most about him.

“Mind if I…?”

“Oh, go on then. I’ll add it to your tab.”

Bond extracts a cigarette and slips it between his lips, and before he can ask, Q is there with a lighter. It’s a cheap plastic thing, which surprises him. He’d have thought Q would carry around a proper one, something engraved and very possibly explosive.

“Left my good one at home,” murmurs Q, reading Bond’s mind as the flame flickers and sputters out. “This one’s rubbish.”

He shakes the lighter, taps it against the railing, and tries again. Again, it fails to light.

“Not to worry,” says Bond. He leans in and touches the end of his cigarette to Q’s.

Slowly, slowly, it crackles to life as Bond is looking at Q’s mouth. His lips are pursed, dark red and slick. Were it anyone else, Bond wouldn’t have bothered with a cigarette. He’d have stolen the one between Q’s lips, taken a long drag, thrown it over the balcony railing, and let Q inhale his fill with Bond’s mouth pressed close against his own.

But this is Q, and contrary to belief, Bond does have sense enough to keep in his trousers when it matters. Still, because he really is a bad man, he can’t help imagining those lips around his cock.

By the twinkle in his eye and the saucy tilt to his mouth, Q knows it, too.

“Something to say, 007?”

“Nothing at all, Q.”

Beyond the heady tobacco scent, Bond can smell a lingering hint of Q’s cologne — something light and citrusy — and the musk of a long day. It is unexpectedly erotic, as is the stubble darkening Q’s jaw.

It would surprise more than a few people to know Bond’s always found Q attractive. Those people, of course, have woeful imaginations. In the light of the sun setting over Greece, Bond can’t imagine anyone he wants to ravish more than the pale, newly louche man beside him.

Q, of course, is oblivious to Bond’s want. He’s turned to admire the view, and Bond tries to give it the attention it deserves, but he finds it wanting. Bond’s seen a thousand sunsets, but he’s never seen Q’s pale skin turn gold beneath them. He’s never even seen Q with the top button of his shirt undone. Now, three are lying open, revealing a tantalising hint of Q’s collarbone and a fine dusting of dark hair peeking out from his shirt.

It’s distracting in the extreme.

“Care for a drink, Q?”

Decisively, Q stubs out his cigarette and pockets the rest of the pack. “No.”

“No?”

“I have a limit of two vices a day.”

“Oh,” Bond huffs. “Do tell, then. What’s the second?”

Q turns to him. He has a bold, teasing challenge in his eye when he steps in close again, so close that Bond can see his eyelashes fanning against his skin, hiding and revealing his dilated pupils. Bond can feel Q’s breath, too, quick and hot against his cheek. Unable to help himself, Bond reaches out a hand to the side of Q’s neck, which is sun-warmed and tacky with sweat from a day of work outside. Underneath his thumb, Q’s pulse flutters erratically.

“I think I’m in the mood for a different sort of stress relief,” Q tells him, his voice low and full of smoke.

And after that delightful bit of flirtation, Bond finds himself being drawn into a kiss.

He grabs Q’s waist and pulls him in as the kiss turns deep, wet and furious. Q wriggles under Bond’s hands, hot and aroused, and his own fingers are everywhere: cupped over Bond’s cheek, dancing down Bond’s spine, tracing up his chest, around his neck and pulling at his hair. It’s not long before he’s pinning Q against the balcony wall, licking into his mouth to taste tobacco and a dizzying hint of the Tsikoudia they’d toasted the mission with not an hour ago. In his chest, a feeling presses at his ribcage, one he hasn’t felt in years. As atrocious an idea as it probably is, he wants to chase it until it overcomes him.

It seems like an age before he can hear the soft roar of the sea again, but when he pulls back, he doesn’t care a whit to look at it. The sight immediately in front of him is much more enticing: Q, swollen-lipped and pink-cheeked, dewy with warm pleasure.

Bond kisses him again and smiles.

“I do so love to be considered a vice, darling.”

“Oh, shut up,” Q breathes, and that is the last coherent word between them until much, much later when Q returns them both again to his first vice:

A well-earned post-coital cigarette.

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond #this fic involved homoerotic smoking so read at will lol

[impossiblesuitcase]

Acts of Service - deleted scene.

Read the fic here

Tap click tap.

“Cress?”

Clicking fills the room as her fingers dance over the keyboard; the only sound Cress hears outside of her own voice in her head.

“Crescent? Light of my life?”

Tap tap. Click tap click.

“Cressy?”

Her nose pinches. The voice from the door had filtered unrecognised through her ears until that particular sobriquet. Cress swivels around in her desk chair to face her boyfriend. 

He grins. “That got your attention.”

“Cressy?” she drawls incredulously.

Carswell leans against the doorpost, mirth etched in his dimples. “It’s cute.”

“It’s awful.” She spins back to her desk, finding her place in the coding she was just on the verge of cracking. Ah, yes, she was adding a new variable.

“What? You’re not going to ask what I’m here for?” he presses.

“I won’t answer to that name,” is her short reply.

He laughs boyishly. “Aww, sweetheart, I tease you because I love you.”

She casts a stern glance back to the offender. “How would you like me to call you Cars-ey?”

Carswell smacks his lips, amusement stalling. “Touché,” he grumbles.

Her hand flicks up to her mouth, smothering a giggle. 

Resigned, Thorne sighs and lifts off the wall, holding out his hands. “Cress. My darling. My moon at night.”

“Yes, Cars-ey?” she calls sweetly.

His eyes shoot sewing needles. 

“Uh, sweetie. That’s what I said,” she corrects. “What’d you come to tell me?”

Excitement steams off him as he pulls two ports from his belt, advertising them in the air. “The new update on Android Assault is out! Wanna be obliterated at every turn?”

Cress beams, elated. They’ve been awaiting this update for six months now, and the prospect of seeing Thorne’s pout as she unquestionably prevails invigorates her. But her smile falls quickly.

Seeing this, he frowns. “I’ll let you win a few rounds, I promise.”

“Oh honey, I want to. But this coding is really urgent.”

He returns the portscreens to his belt and folds his arms. “Pfft. More urgent than hanging out.”

“It’s an assignment from the president of the American Republic.”

“President shmesident"

“Yes. The president shmesident who’s loaning you the very ship we’re on,” she reminds kindly. “We can play later, I promise.”

Thorne sulks by the door for a moment, brow furrowed. “Why do you have to be so responsible?”

Cress doesn’t know what to say. She blows him a kiss and returns to her screen. From her periphery, she sees Thorne catch the kiss and smack it onto his cheek. Then his footsteps patter down the hallway.

“Thanks anyway,” she hears, “Cressy.”

“Cadet!” she yells.

“Hey!”

Chuckling, Cress removes the flirting with boyfriend mode chip from her brain and plugs in the work mode. Right. The initial commands are working, and that is technically enough to cover the president's request. Still, she isn’t content to hand over the code with the backbone incomplete. It’s unlikely, but if this aspect fails, the entire system will.

Under Sybil, such a mistake would have earned a berating, glaring, and even the half-empty, half-full threat of execution. The former because Cress had known Sybil relied on her programming skills to remain in Levana’s good favour. And the latter because every guard before Jacin Clay that escorted Sybil to the satellite had been executed for looking at Mistress the wrong way.

President Vargas didn’t bring the promise of death if she misstepped. But singlehandedly losing the Rampion deal would be a fate worse than death to her boyfriend.

The cursor blinks over the script, nagging her. She knows which variables to assign, but it’s a matter of the right code to execute the correct function. Cress bites her lip, mentally running through the best candidates.

Something stronger nags at her.

She’s poured herself into this code all week, and ashamed as she is to admit it, this isn’t the first time she’s brushed Thorne off. Next Wednesday is their first anniversary of when they met, and they’ve spent the past month propounding all the fantastical things they’ll do to celebrate, yet none of them have been chosen, planned or booked. But this task is important. Ludicrously important, international-security level important.

He looked so disappointed…

Her fingers sit atop the keys, unable to commit to press down. 

Computer analytics show the likelihood of system failure to be 4.6%

She can’t live with that percentage. She can’t live with his dejected frown.

Cress grips the desk, using it as leverage to careen her chair backwards. Lips ready to call out a name, toes grazing the carpet to stand.

When she turns, Thorne is already at the door. She blinks rapidly as though he were a glistening mirage. She hadn’t heard his normally thudding footsteps.

“Missed me?” he teases, voice honeyed. He saunters over, a European pillow tucked under one armpit and his portscreen under the other.

Cress stands. He reaches her and coaxes her back into the chair. Then he drives it back to the desk, using his foot to toggle the lever so she drops down with an “Oof!”

Then he settles onto the floor, stuffs the pillow at his back and rests his head against her thigh. With a wiggle to get comfortable, he boots up his port and sighs contentedly.

Cress bites her smile. Leaning down, she presses a kiss to his forehead. His muscles relax under her lips.

“You keep working, stress-head. I’ll play the old instalments until you’re finished.” He winks up at her. “Gives me some extra practice to completely destroy you.”

She buries her hand in his hair and gives it a good tug. 

“Ow!”

“You know, a big ego slowly kills your brain,” she asserts. “It might explain the pain you’re experiencing.”

Thorne adamantly thumbs the start key and scoffs. “Get back to working, Missy.”

She does. It’s a little slow with only one operating hand, and in the tougher crunches she has to pull the other from his hair to the keys. Between event, array, and else functions, Cress ponders just how he became so relaxed with her, and how when she’d met his parents for the first time last spring, he’d been anything but. He had transformed before her eyes into a tense soldier, stiff-backed and overly formal. He hasn’t outright told her, but she knows implicitly that his family have never prioritised quality bonding time or enveloping hugs. Sure, he was an inexorable flirt, but Cress sees the softness behind his intentions. He just wants people to notice him. For people to care.

She well understands that yearning. So maybe right now the two of them are speaking to each other without words, saying exactly what they both need to hear.

Tap tap tap and click click click fills the room as percussion. Content, slow breathing is the melody.

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #cresswell #cresswell fanfiction #carswell thorne #cress darnel

[birgittesilverbae]

For your three sentence prompt: Shannon and Mary, fight, hallway or alleyway.

"Mary, down!"

Mary hits the deck hard, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs. The haft of Shannon's pike whistles through the air above her, striking her attacker in the side of the neck before he has time to raise his blade to deflect the blow. He drops, too, crumpling to the ground alongside Mary.

Mary struggles up into a crouch, cocks her fist back, and lands a punch square to his nose. "That one's for my tooth," she says thickly, words caught up in a mouthful of blood.

A hand grabs the shoulder of her jacket and hauls her bodily to her feet. Mary fumbles at her waist for a knife, but both sheathes are empty, her blades lost in men groaning on the pavement a street over.

"Settle, Mary." Shannon catches her wrist, thumb stroking across her pulse point, then pulls her hand back sharply. "It's just me."

"We get 'em all?"

Shannon's pike is slung across her back already, all the signal required to know combat is over, but Mary needs to hear it. Her pulse is hummingbird fast, her palms sweaty. She needs to know it's done, needs to hear it out loud so she can reassure herself. "We got them all," Shannon confirms. "Nia and Zoë are cleaning up on their end."

"Good." Mary nods, winces at the way the motion jars her tooth.

Shannon raises an eyebrow.

"He got the drop on me," Mary admits. "Not proud of it, but that's what happened."

Shannon winces in commiseration, her hand half-moving like she wants to reach up and soothe Mary's hurts. Not that Mary would mind, of course. In the few weeks since Vincent brought her here, Shannon's proven to be bright, competitive, and very, very, very closeted. Mary would be lying if she said she hadn't daydreamed about it once or twice, the habit cast aside, Shannon's calloused hands cupping her face.

"Mary, are you okay?" Oh, so that's not a daydream. Shannon's hands are on her face, tipping her chin up to get a better look at her mouth.

"I'm fine." Mary pulls away for both of their sakes, putting a suitable distance between them. "Just lost a tooth, that's all. Your fights usually end up like this?"

"My fights? No. The fights of rookies who are awful at hand-to-hand? Yes. Frequently."

Mary groans into her hands, then spits out a clot of blood. "Hurrah," she cheers sarcastically, "I'm average." Shannon's mouth twists in barely-veiled amusement. "Mediocre?" An even worse attempt at concealing a laugh. "Awful?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Because I'm not awful?"

"Because I wouldn't say it." Shannon grins, toothy and charming. "But seriously, you might want to consider choosing a weapon that will keep you out of range of close combat."

#warrior nun #mywn #myfic #three sentence fics #lmao more like 450 word fics oops #shotgun mary #sister shannon #mary x shannon #fic: tmtl #you've heard of newbea get ready for smol shannon and mini mary #ask #anon

[lovely-lady-lumps]

Target is a Dangerous Place

October writing 2

Pairing: Richard "Dick" Grayson x Gn!Reader

Summary: You and Dick take a trip to Target during October.

Word count: 736

  A blast of cool air gently blows your hair back as you walk through the doors of Target. The smell of coffee, popcorn, and plastic that can only be associated with Halloween decorations invades your nose. People talking mixed with beeping and wheels clicking echoes throughout the store. Dick is behind you and you can hear him take a deep breath, excitement clear on his face as he leaves your side to grab a cart. Once in hand he turns to you for guidance on where to go, his eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Okay, so first things first, the dollar section.” You smile and quickly walk ahead of him. Your hand beckons him to follow you.

  “There anything specific you’re looking for?” Dick asks, pushing the cart in your direction.

  You’ve already rounded the corner to see the small trinkets, your head poking over the top. “Nope.”

  He chuckles and pushes the cart to be next to you, immediately picking up a small white pumpkin mug from the middle $3 shelf when he’s there. It’s nothing special, no design on it and like a child’s cup, and he almost puts it back. A bright orange glint catches his attention before he does right below the others. He lets out a dramatic gasp and quickly picks it up, holding them side by side next to his face.

  “Babe, babe look. We could have matching mugs. And they’re only three dollars.” He shows them off to you with an open smile and wide eyes.

  You pause in the middle of grabbing a candle and look over at him, laughing at his excitement, “Put them in the buggie.”

  He does as much before dropping into a squat in front of the bottom shelf to look past the mugs. You put the candle back in place and walk to his side, squatting beside him.

  “Did you even look at the stuff on top? They’re all one dollar.” You ask, reaching into the back to grab a black spiderweb shaped tray.

  “That’s what I look at last.”

  “Why?” You stand to put the tray with the mugs and drop back down to keep searching.

  “I’ll want more from that section.” He explains in a ‘duh’ tone. 

  “Oh, my bad.” You raise your hands in mock surrender.

  “Yeah, your bad.” He scoffs.

  You laugh and lightly shove him and he grips the arm you hit as if in pain. He hisses, falling over onto his side, moaning about how ‘the love of his life betrayed him’. Panic makes you stand up and push the cart to the end of the short aisle, not being the first time he’s done this. A young couple walks by, their faces a mix of cringing and confusion. All you can do is smile and wave awkwardly.

  “Do not. Get up. Please. Dick, stand up.” You plead even though you’re laughing quietly.

  “Oh the pain! It hurts! Why?!” Dick cries out from the floor.

  “Richard,” You chuckle. “Get up!”

  His head shoots up from the floor to glare at you in offense. “You used my real name!”

  “And I’ll use it again if you don’t get up.” You threaten.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Richard…” You start. His eyes squint, daring you.

  “John…” He still says nothing. 

  “Richard John Grayson, get off the floor.” As soon as you say it he’s up on his feet, mouth agape yet smiling.

  “I can’t believe you said it!”

  “Yes and it sounds like I’m talking to a child. You’re a grown man, Dick.”

  “Well you don’t have to talk to me like a kid.”

  “You were on the floor!” You whisper yell once he’s by your side again. 

  “Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” He scoffs.

  “Not mine. This is not what we’re here for!” You try to sound mad but he can hear a smile in your voice.

  “Fine, fine. Let’s keep looking.” He kisses your temple as he moves you away from the cart so he can push it himself.

  He doesn’t get far before he’s picking up a ghost pillow with a proud high pitched ‘ah!’ thrown your way. It’s put in the basket before you can say otherwise. Not that you would.

  “We’re gonna spend so much money.” You shake your head in amusement.

  He doesn’t even turn around, picking up another item. “Your fault for bringing me. Target is a dangerous place.”

#nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #gender neutral reader #gender neutral imagine #gender neutral insert #dick grayson imagine #nightwing imagine

[annesoftheisland]

Anne of the Island - Chapter XXV

Enter Prince Charming

"I'm contrasting the claims of indoors and out," said Anne, looking from the window of Patty's Place to the distant pines of the park.

"I've an afternoon to spend in sweet doing nothing, Aunt Jimsie. Shall I spend it here where there is a cosy fire, a plateful of delicious russets, three purring and harmonious cats, and two impeccable china dogs with green noses? Or shall I go to the park, where there is the lure of gray woods and of gray water lapping on the harbor rocks?"

"If I was as young as you, I'd decide in favor of the park," said Aunt Jamesina, tickling Joseph's yellow ear with a knitting needle.

"I thought that you claimed to be as young as any of us, Aunty," teased Anne.

"Yes, in my soul. But I'll admit my legs aren't as young as yours. You go and get some fresh air, Anne. You look pale lately."

"I think I'll go to the park," said Anne restlessly. "I don't feel like tame domestic joys today. I want to feel alone and free and wild. The park will be empty, for every one will be at the football match."

"Why didn't you go to it?"

"`Nobody axed me, sir, she said' -- at least, nobody but that horrid little Dan Ranger. I wouldn't go anywhere with him; but rather than hurt his poor little tender feelings I said I wasn't going to the game at all. I don't mind. I'm not in the mood for football today somehow."

"You go and get some fresh air," repeated Aunt Jamesina, "but take your umbrella, for I believe it's going to rain. I've rheumatism in my leg."

"Only old people should have rheumatism, Aunty."

"Anybody is liable to rheumatism in her legs, Anne. It's only old people who should have rheumatism in their souls, though. Thank goodness, I never have. When you get rheumatism in your soul you might as well go and pick out your coffin."

It was November -- the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul. Anne was not wont to be troubled with soul fog. But, somehow, since her return to Redmond for this third year, life had not mirrored her spirit back to her with its old, perfect, sparkling clearness.

Outwardly, existence at Patty's Place was the same pleasant round of work and study and recreation that it had always been. On Friday evenings the big, fire-lighted livingroom was crowded by callers and echoed to endless jest and laughter, while Aunt Jamesina smiled beamingly on them all. The "Jonas" of Phil's letter came often, running up from St. Columbia on the early train and departing on the late. He was a general favorite at Patty's Place, though Aunt Jamesina shook her head and opined that divinity students were not what they used to be.

"He's VERY nice, my dear," she told Phil, "but ministers ought to be graver and more dignified."

"Can't a man laugh and laugh and be a Christian still?" demanded Phil.

"Oh, MEN -- yes. But I was speaking of MINISTERS, my dear," said Aunt Jamesina rebukingly." And you shouldn't flirt so with Mr. Blake -- you really shouldn't."

"I'm not flirting with him," protested Phil.

Nobody believed her, except Anne. The others thought she was amusing herself as usual, and told her roundly that she was behaving very badly.

"Mr. Blake isn't of the Alec-and-Alonzo type, Phil," said Stella severely. "He takes things seriously. You may break his heart."

"Do you really think I could?" asked Phil. "I'd love to think so."

"Philippa Gordon! I never thought you were utterly unfeeling. The idea of you saying you'd love to break a man's heart!"

"I didn't say so, honey. Quote me correctly. I said I'd like to think I COULD break it. I would like to know I had the POWER to do it."

"I don't understand you, Phil. You are leading that man on deliberately -- and you know you don't mean anything by it."

"I mean to make him ask me to marry him if I can," said Phil calmly.

"I give you up," said Stella hopelessly.

Gilbert came occasionally on Friday evenings. He seemed always in good spirits, and held his own in the jests and repartee that flew about. He neither sought nor avoided Anne. When circumstances brought them in contact he talked to her pleasantly and courteously, as to any newly-made acquaintance. The old camaraderie was gone entirely. Anne felt it keenly; but she told herself she was very glad and thankful that Gilbert had got so completely over his disappointment in regard to her. She had really been afraid, that April evening in the orchard, that she had hurt him terribly and that the wound would be long in healing. Now she saw that she need not have worried. Men have died and the worms have eaten them but not for love. Gilbert evidently was in no danger of immediate dissolution. He was enjoying life, and he was full of ambition and zest. For him there was to be no wasting in despair because a woman was fair and cold. Anne, as she listened to the ceaseless badinage that went on between him and Phil, wondered if she had only imagined that look in his eyes when she had told him she could never care for him.

There were not lacking those who would gladly have stepped into Gilbert's vacant place. But Anne snubbed them without fear and without reproach. If the real Prince Charming was never to come she would have none of a substitute. So she sternly told herself that gray day in the windy park.

Suddenly the rain of Aunt Jamesina's prophecy came with a swish and rush. Anne put up her umbrella and hurried down the slope. As she turned out on the harbor road a savage gust of wind tore along it. Instantly her umbrella turned wrong side out. Anne clutched at it in despair. And then -- there came a voice close to her.

"Pardon me -- may I offer you the shelter of my umbrella?"

Anne looked up. Tall and handsome and distinguished-looking -- dark, melancholy, inscrutable eyes -- melting, musical, sympathetic voice -- yes, the very hero of her dreams stood before her in the flesh. He could not have more closely resembled her ideal if he had been made to order.

"Thank you," she said confusedly.

"We'd better hurry over to that little pavillion on the point," suggested the unknown. "We can wait there until this shower is over. It is not likely to rain so heavily very long."

The words were very commonplace, but oh, the tone! And the smile which accompanied them! Anne felt her heart beating strangely.

Together they scurried to the pavilion and sat breathlessly down under its friendly roof. Anne laughingly held up her false umbrella.

"It is when my umbrella turns inside out that I am convinced of the total depravity of inanimate things," she said gaily.

The raindrops sparkled on her shining hair; its loosened rings curled around her neck and forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes big and starry. Her companion looked down at her admiringly. She felt herself blushing under his gaze. Who could he be? Why, there was a bit of the Redmond white and scarlet pinned to his coat lapel. Yet she had thought she knew, by sight at least, all the Redmond students except the Freshmen. And this courtly youth surely was no Freshman.

"We are schoolmates, I see," he said, smiling at Anne's colors. "That ought to be sufficient introduction. My name is Royal Gardner. And you are the Miss Shirley who read the Tennyson paper at the Philomathic the other evening, aren't you?"

"Yes; but I cannot place you at all," said Anne, frankly. "Please, where DO you belong?"

"I feel as if I didn't belong anywhere yet. I put in my Freshman and Sophomore years at Redmond two years ago. I've been in Europe ever since. Now I've come back to finish my Arts course."

"This is my Junior year, too," said Anne.

"So we are classmates as well as collegemates. I am reconciled to the loss of the years that the locust has eaten," said her companion, with a world of meaning in those wonderful eyes of his.

The rain came steadily down for the best part of an hour. But the time seemed really very short. When the clouds parted and a burst of pale November sunshine fell athwart the harbor and the pines Anne and her companion walked home together. By the time they had reached the gate of Patty's Place he had asked permission to call, and had received it. Anne went in with cheeks of flame and her heart beating to her fingertips. Rusty, who climbed into her lap and tried to kiss her, found a very absent welcome. Anne, with her soul full of romantic thrills, had no attention to spare just then for a crop-eared pussy cat.

That evening a parcel was left at Patty's Place for Miss Shirley. It was a box containing a dozen magnificent roses. Phil pounced impertinently on the card that fell from it, read the name and the poetical quotation written on the back.

"Royal Gardner!" she exclaimed. "Why, Anne, I didn't know you were acquainted with Roy Gardner!"

"I met him in the park this afternoon in the rain," explained Anne hurriedly. "My umbrella turned inside out and he came to my rescue with his."

"Oh!" Phil peered curiously at Anne." And is that exceedingly commonplace incident any reason why he should send us longstemmed roses by the dozen, with a very sentimental rhyme? Or why we should blush divinest rosy-red when we look at his card? Anne, thy face betrayeth thee."

"Don't talk nonsense, Phil. Do you know Mr. Gardner?"

"I've met his two sisters, and I know of him. So does everybody worthwhile in Kingsport. The Gardners are among the richest, bluest, of Bluenoses. Roy is adorably handsome and clever. Two years ago his mother's health failed and he had to leave college and go abroad with her -- his father is dead. He must have been greatly disappointed to have to give up his class, but they say he was perfectly sweet about it. Fee -- fi -- fo -- fum, Anne. I smell romance. Almost do I envy you, but not quite. After all, Roy Gardner isn't Jonas."

"You goose!" said Anne loftily. But she lay long awake that night, nor did she wish for sleep. Her waking fancies were more alluring than any vision of dreamland. Had the real Prince come at last? Recalling those glorious dark eyes which had gazed so deeply into her own, Anne was very strongly inclined to think he had.

#anne of the island #anne of green gables #royal gardner #anne shirley #quotes

[two-am-outlines-only]

Leave Old Legends Lie

Summary:  When Remus coerces Logan into pulling a prank with an old folktale surrounding their local woods where they’ll be camping, Logan can’t find it in him to say no. despite his slight misgivings he finds the idea of scaring his husband Janus and son Virgil with something as simple as a ghost story and a thrifted fur costume rather exciting- until the “fake” ritual goes a little too well, and Logan learns just how important it is to respect legends better left alone.

Warnings: mild sexual innuendo, swearing, disturbing imagery, blood and injury, mild violence, spells and curses

Ships: Intrulociet (Remus x Logan x Janus) 

Word Count: 4, 775

AO3 Link

“Remus don’t do that, you'll crack your head open.”

Remus glanced up at Logan, watching him sort out their snacks for a moment before peering behind him at the freshly fallen leaves cushioning the ground. “Unless the leaves have murderous intent I think I’m fine Lolo- though wouldn’t it be funny if I fell into an eldritch portal and cracked my head open on one of their rocks?”

“No it wouldn’t, only partly because then Virgil would be afraid of falling through portals not cracking his head open.” So saying, Logan nudged the back of his son’s chair to settle it on all four legs, making the budding emo pout into his jacket. “Be a good influence. That includes not spraying hairspray into the fire this year and before you say anything I’ve already found and confiscated the cans.”

“What? No! That was one time and it turned out fine! We had fire extinguishers and we were by the river!”

“No.”

“Remus you have side jock from a horror movie syndrome and that is not a compliment.” Janus drawled from the other side of the clearing.

“Janus I thought I said Virgil and I would gather kindling-”

“Low blow Jannie I thought you’d give me more sex appeal than that-”

“Ew gross!”

“Remus language!”

“Oh yes Remus, language, because our fourteen year old son certainly hasn’t heard of sex appeal-”

“Can we please,” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose even as he struggled to hold back an amused smirk. “One camping trip. Just one, where everyone behaves?”

“No- pah!” Popping the p Remus leaned back once again, immediately tipping over and sprawling on the ground. The clearing was silent and then a lone snort from where Janus was still standing set Virgil into a fit of giggles and letting Remus fill their set up with howls of laughter. Rolling his eyes Logan went over and nudged Remus to the side, setting the chair upright and trying his absolute best to prevent his shoulders from shaking with his own laughter.

“One trip.” He muttered with a smile, making his way over to the truck to dig out their sleeping bags and flashlights for the night.

-----

Logan held the literal monkey suit with an air of distaste while listening carefully for anyone curious that might try and come up behind him. He and Remus had planned this a month ago- rather Remus had coerced him while bouncing so excitedly Logan could hardly get a word in edgewise- and had agreed that a spooky camping trip should have a scare at some point during the night that they could laugh about later. Thus the plan was that they would tell a scary story that was “real”, pretend to go to sleep and then Logan would sneak off and change and come back to scare Virgil and likely Janus. His only hope was that Virgil didn’t go into fight mode and decide to tackle him since the cold was already doing absolutely no favors for his back and he didn’t fancy an adrenaline fueled teenager tackling him onto piles of frosty leaves while wearing a scraggly gorilla suit.

He glanced up at a faint rustling of leaves, brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a small black cat sitting by the back tire. Granted they weren’t exactly in the middle of the woods so it wasn’t that much of a stretch that a domestic looking cat would be out. Shrugging, he gave it a polite nod and turned back to the suit before sighing and stuffing it back into his sleep bag before gathering up the bag of marshmallows. Feeling eyes still following him he glanced back at the cat and nearly dropped the bags when it closed its eyes and nodded back. A very pronounced up and down tilt of its head and then a light sneeze, turning to groom its back while Logan stood wracking his brain to figure out if cats normally nodded at strangers.

“You still good for tonight Logan?”

This time Logan did startle hard enough to drop the bags, whirling around and shoving the sleep bag behind him before registering it was Remus. “Remus, please don’t sneak up on me. What if you had been- a bear or something?”

Remus cocked his head and looked down at the bags. “Then it would have had a delicious dessert, and then marshmallows as a midnight snack.” Winking at Logan's heated face he hopped up into the back bed of the truck and poked his cheek. “You good? Don’t tell me you’re already spooked, this is going to be the best prank we’ve pulled in years!”

Logan smirked. “Yes I can’t wait to figuratively scare them out of their pants.”

“You don’t have to say figuratively. I doubt in this cold Jannie’s even taking his pants off to pee.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Though I’d take mine off for you Logan.”

“Remus, you're going to smash the marshmallows.” Logan pushed his face away with a snort, leaning over to pick up the bags.

“Know something else I’m gonna smash-” Logan’s face heated once again as he felt a light tap at the small of his back, standing up just in time to see Janus making his way towards them.

“Remus, stop flirting with my husband and help Virgil start the fire...safely.”

Pouting, Remus jumped down and reached over to cup Logan’s cheek. Smiling into the touch, Logan closed his eyes in exasperation when he felt one of Remus' affectionate licks on his cheek rather than a normal kiss any other person would give. “My husband too.”

They watched as he dashed over to the campsite, squatting beside Virgil who was currently trying unsuccessfully to strike the flint hard enough to create a proper spark. Turning back around, Logan smiled ruefully at Janus who was currently leaning against the tail light with an eyebrow raised to him. “What were you two planning over here?”

“A great camping trip with my lovely, lovely family.” Logn sniffed indignantly and shoved the marshmallows into the bag with the crackers and chocolate they had brought for smores.

Janus squinted but said nothing, grabbing up a bag of jerky and tearing it open without breaking eye contact. “Mhm.”

“Mhm.”

“Seems we have a familiar.” Pulling the bag over his shoulder Logan looked to where Janus was nodding to, spotting the same black cat only a few feet away. “Mm. It’s been spying on us for a while now.”

Janus took a slow step forward, tearing a bit of the jerky apart with his teeth and tossing it to the small shadow, who promptly turned its nose up at it and sauntered off deeper into the trees. “Indignant little thing. Cats can eat jerky right?”

“It probably filled up on squirrels earlier, just don’t let Remus or Virgil see it; they'll want to take it home.”

Janus snorted, resealing the bag and taking up another bag with blankets before nudging the trunk closed with his elbow. Looking up he frowned. “Is it getting darker faster than it should be or-?” Logan too, looked up at the sky, seeing the thick treeline rapidly darkening with the sinking of the sun, clouds moving in a way more reminiscent of horror movies than reality. Shaking it off he simply shrugged. “Must‘ve spent more time over here than we thought- come on before Remus turns our son into an aspiring arsonist earlier than we predicted.”

They hadn’t walked a dozen paces before Virgil jumped up excitedly and pointed at the now merrily crackly campfire. “Dad!!! I made fire!!”

Janus snorted and nudged him playfully. “Think we were a bit late on that one Logan, remind me not to buy hairspray for a while.”

Remus’ head snapped up immediately and pointed at both of them accusingly. “One time!!”

-----

Virgil laughed as another marshmallow exploded from the heat of the fire, turning into sticky tar that coated the wood and burned sickly sweet until it disintegrated to nothing in the heat. Remus grinned and stuck another one that he had roasted in his mouth, crunching down on the completely burnt ball that could have been more stick than treat for all he could taste. Logan winced as he slid his own just-the-right-amount-of-crisp-thank-you-very-much-Remus onto his cracker and carefully placed the chocolate on top, letting it melt a bit before adding the other cracker and sighing as another marshmallow exploded.

“Let them have their fun dear, they're both idiots but you also encouraged Remus to microwave a marshmallow last week to see what would happen so you really have no room to say anything.” Janus whispered quietly while eating cold smores so he didn’t get chocolate everywhere.

Sniffing indignantly, Logan brushed the crumbs from his lap and tied up his bag, making sure to seal it so animals wouldn’t be tempted. “Whenever you’re finished eating burnt sugar Remus, didn’t you have a story you wanted to tell tonight?”

Remus stared at him blankly, stick still held in his mouth until he swore and spit out his latest abomination, throwing his stick in the fire with a huff. “Sure. We need to sit a little away from the fire though, since the story is also,” pausing for dramatic effect and glancing at Virgil. “A ritual.”

“I’m sorry a what?” Janus sat up a bit. “Remus what did you do? You know we don’t mess with spirits in this family.” “Relax Janus, Remus talked with me about this a while ago. It isn’t going to summon anything and it’s actually quite interesting.”

Janus turned to squint accusingly at Logan. “Oh he cleared it with you did he? Is that what you two were conspiring about earlier?”

“No,” Logan replied patiently as he scooted back from the fire and dragged the snacks back with him. “Remus was being Remus earlier and talking about tapping my-”

“Ask you later got it- Logan honestly you got on Remus earlier for his language and our son is right there.”

“Yeah guys I’m right here.” Virgil chipped in absently from where he was trying desperately to wipe marshmallow out of his bangs.

“Smartass.” Logan muttered but handed Remus his stick to draw in the dirt with. “Besides I was already reading the books on the subject for fun so Remus came to me with questions. And we modified the “ritual” so even if it could hypothetically work it wouldn’t. We took superstitions into account, love. Don’t worry.”

“You say as your husband is currently carving a sigil around our fire.”

“Why is he only my husband when you disapprove of something he does?”

“Because I married two idiots sharing one brain cell and whenever you’re the one carrying it you use it to encourage the one scientist in our family without an actual degree!”

“Done!” Tossing the latest stick into the fire as well Remus took his perch on his folding chair, squatting instead of sitting and wiggling his eyebrows ominously. “We ready to get spooked and learn how to protect ourselves from the local forest cryptid?”

“We have a local cryptid?” Virgil perked up with interest, making Logan smile in triumph. He was glad to know his son was still interested in things like this, even though Logan found it a bit silly especially combined with Janus’ superstitions.

“We do! I found it in one of your father’s books and it has an entire horror story surrounding it and everything!”

“Remus-”

“Relax Jannie we aren’t actually going to summon a demon we don’t have all the materials here for it anyway...well I mean we do but we aren’t gonna use ‘em all it’s fine. Anyway, I found that in this very woods, there lives an ancient creature whose name has only been whispered in fearful respect for centuries since it was released. One with such malice and want for destruction that it had to be turned against itself to be defeated. Stories dared only to be passed down in hidden tomes and word of mouth- about the legendary Firepaw.”

“Firepaw?” Virgil interrupted with a smirk. “That sounds like a five year old named a monster they drew in daycare and wanted it to be cool enough to hang on the fridge.”

Remus shot him an unimpressed look. “You follow at least sixty blogs revolving around Bigfoot, I think you can suspend your disbelief for Firepaw.”

“Hmph.” Burying his reddened face in his hoodie, Virgil mumbled into it spitefully. “It’s fifty-two, I only follow the good ones.”

“Stand me properly corrected and chastised.” Remus deadpanned and shifted to lean back more. “May I continue?”

“Hmph.”

“Firepaw used to be one of the more benevolent demons of the time, being summoned for warmth and safety when there was little to be found in a harsh, undeveloped wilderness. A great beast wreathed in flame, it brought great comfort to those who summoned it and inspired fear only in those who didn’t understand its purpose. For centuries the locals of the woods lived in peace with it as their protector in the lush green woods they had chosen for their home.”

Virgil was leaning forward with interest now, as was Janus Logan noted with amusement, as Remus’ animated storytelling skills painted the picture around them.

“It’s said that there had been unrest between neighboring settlements for some years now, fights for territory and resources as greed overtook compassion. So one fateful night, when the wind blew cold through the trees and fires whipped around restlessly in their stone prisons, there was a group who summoned Firepaw for their own gain. Two sigils were carved deep into the ground that night: one to summon and one to seal. The beast rose from the flames, tail still and head high as the guardian of the forest...and then the second sigil burned bright.”

Remus threw bits of wood from his pockets into their fire, making everyone jump in their seats as they flared out for a moment, brightening the area around them while wild, flickering flames. Logan startled and squinted into the darkness, sure he had seen something glitter like eyes behind a tree, but the flames calmed before he could focus. Leaning closer to Janus he tried to shrug it off; a cat being around didn’t mean anything, it was just a stray drawn to warmth but too shy to come closer.

“Tail lashing in irritation and then anger the great beast roared- the first time it had ever done so in all the time it had been summoned. The flames that consumed it grew brighter and hotter than they had ever meant to be, claws growing like roots digging into the earth as fangs dripped from it’s open jaws like icicles from the trees. Never was it meant to be tamed by man- let alone attempted to be controlled, and in their hubris the group foolishly thought they could be the first. The only reward they received that night was the mercy of a quick death as the flames burst forth too quickly for the thought of escape to even cross their minds. Both sigils burned brighter still, then disappeared completely, the seals broken to leave the beast to roam free. In a fit of rage it bounded through the forest, turning trees to hollow ash in seconds and the wind carrying embers to others to spread the destruction as far as it could reach.

“The forest burned as the beast raged, killing and destroying everything in its path. To this day the birch trees that make up this forest are still darkened and cracked from the untamed flames-”

“Oh! They’re actually black birch and the reason the bark is so dark is because-”

“Logan, it’s a story. You can science it up when we get home I promise.”

“Right, apologies.”

“You’re okay. But the real reason they’re so dark,” Throwing a playful wink to his husband, Remus continued. “Is because of the warpath Firepaw led that night. Nothing was left save for a small settlement smack in the middle of the trail it was blazing. Everyone else had long since fled and most likely been consumed by the surrounding flames, except one person who stood and waited while the beast gouged the earth with its claws and threw trees from their roots with its lashing tail.”

“Why were they just standing there?” Virgil asked from the edge of his seat.

Remus shrugged. “Maybe they had already accepted their death and wanted to see if they could do anything before they died. Maybe they couldn’t run. Maybe they were crazy, who knows? What the legend does say is that Firepaw raged its way right in front of them and stood infuriated that they hadn’t moved an inch. Instead, they held their hand to the monster's snout and through the flames placed it gently enough to snap it to its senses, even as the person burned in front of one of the last standing trees. It’s anger finally calmed but unable to reverse the destructive it had caused or cool the flames that consumed its forest, it turned the curse onto itself, and burned away to nothing.

“The forest grew back from the ashes but kept it’s jinx as it grew, turning all the trees black and leaving the final clearing where the guardian and its last victim had died.”

“This clearing?” Virgil and Janus both asked with slight panic in their voices.

“This very clearing!” Remus grinned wide. “Now they say the beast’s spirit wanders the woods, sometimes in the form of a black cat as it’s true form had burned down to all those centuries ago- but sometimes in the form of one of it’s victims, black as pitch from head to toe and running through the trees in remembrance of that fated night. And they say it can still be summoned with it’s sigil-”

Here Remus stood, putting a toe to the dirt and completing one final line of the design he had previously drawn around the fire, taking delight in the look of horror on Virgil and Janus’ faces.

“A fire to represent its original purpose,” Here he threw another handful of wood bits and sicks into the fire, making it flare up brighter than before. “And something sweet to symbolize it’s last stand against the stranger who had either the bravery or stupidity to reach out- and Janus you ook about ready to faint it’s just a story.”

“A story you found in an old book with a very detailed description of a forest spirit- complete with a summoning sigil and instructions!”

“Janus I assure you even if it was meant to work it wouldn’t.” Logan laid a comforting hand on Janus’ arm. “We didn’t put anything sweet into the fire to actually summon the thing, roasting marshmallows doesn’t count.”

“You know I don’t mess with this stuff-”

“Is it actually true? I had never even heard about it and I’ve looked up tons about the local area-”

Logan looked over to where Virgil was currently grilling Remus about the story, who was doing his best not to bust up laughing and answer with a seriousness their later prank needed. Leaning closer to Janus, he whispered quietly, “It’s mostly to pull a prank on Virgil later as a bit of fun for Remus. Also our son has been gaining an interest in these things lately and we know how you are with superstitions so I thought this may discourage him from actually trying anything in the future.”

Janus huffed out a laugh. “Of course this was mostly Remus’ idea. Is that what the gorilla suit is for?”

“You know about that?”

“A father knows everything including what his husbands get up to at three in the morning when they sneak out of bed and drive to the store no where near an anniversary or holiday.” Janus smirked and lightly shoved him. “You’re both idiots but I love you anyway. Just don’t hurt yourself running through the woods alright?”

Logan smiled ruefully. “That is the plan, yes.”

-----

“Remus. Remus, are you awake?”

Logan huffed as all he received was a snore in response. Of course Remus would fall asleep before the prank he had planned was executed- erratic sleep schedule be damned Logan wasn’t cutting him slack for this one. If he wanted to sleep then he would just have to be scared along with Virgil and Janus- even though he had a feeling Janus was probably lying awake waiting for him so he didn’t get startled awake like Virgil and could play the cool dad. Rolling his eyes fondly, Logan stepped away from the sleeping bags and around the dying fire. It was nearly three in the morning at this point as they had stayed up quite later after Remus’ story exchanging tamer ghost stories until Virgil started nodding off.

All he had to do was go a little ways into the woods and run out yelling like a madman until the trick seemed to go on long enough and then he could go to bed. A fairly simple operation provided he could see in the dark and through the rather tiny eye holes the suit provided. It didn’t matter- he’d be in and out before anything bad could actually happen. Shrugging absentmindedly to adjust the suit he carefully twisted on the head and made his way into the trees.

The further he ventured into the trees the more the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end despite the uncomfortable warmth the suit provided. He could hardly see in the darkness and yet the unmistakable feeling of eyes raking over his back was unmistakable- he knew it was most likely that damn cat stalking him again, no accounting for any kind of subtly as it had continually watched from the shadows even far into the night when most creatures would be either hunting or sleeping. As long as he didn’t trip over it when running he decided not to worry about it. If the cat wanted to watch him sprint through the woods like an idiot well- he supposed someone should witness the start of his descent into madness at the hands of his puppy-eyed husband.

Deciding he’d gone far enough, Logan turned around and with one last adjustment of the suit began to run back to camp, yelling nonsense at the top of his lungs and trying desperately not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all the whole time. Breaking the treeline he could already see Virgil sitting up terrified, jumping onto Janus’ sleeping bag and screaming in terror as Remus began to cackle from his own. So much for playing it up. Slowing down Logan quieted and lowered his arms, jogging forward and already waving his arms in surrender when his foot caught something soft and small, hurling it forward with his momentum and straight into the fire.

No one spoke. No one dared breathe as the cat curled up in the flames as they grew taller and brighter, burning hot enough for a horrified Janus to scramble back with a silently screaming Virgil in tow, Remus right beside them as Logan could only stand and watch.

The cat stood.

The surrounding woods grew darker yet darker as the flames grew higher and the distorted shape in the flames began to grow along with them. It stretched to the limits of the sigil and then oozed past them, singed claws digging trenches in the earth and shadowed tail whipping hard enough to fan the flames that consumed it. Its great head lowering towards his family cowering still tangled in his sleeping bags finally snapped Logan out of his shock. Taking up the suit head he hurled it at the monster. It burned to nothing the instant it touched the flames but caught its attention nonetheless, eyes running deeper than the void of space filled with rage snapping to his own in an instant.

That instant was all Logan needed as he turned and tore his way back into the woods, feeling the heat of the midnight sun burning at his back as he desperately tried to pump his legs faster. The chase was completely silent save for the pounding of his feet and crackle of flames. He hardly dared concentrate on anything else but dodging trees and leaping over fallen logs, leading the monstrosity as far away from his family as he possibly could.

The woods caught fire around him, consuming the recovered forest in destruction and turning the floor to a sea of flickering sparks Logan attempted to weave around and jump over as best he could. Smoke filled his lungs instead of the screams he realized he had been silently hissing up his throat, making him choke on invisible hands that circled his windpipe and squeezed. No longer did he dodge trees but hollow figures hunched and moaning, turning sorrowful burning eyes to him as he leaped by, arms reaching like crude branches to an unforgiving sky.

He watched as they burned and crumpled, turning to dust that mixed with the smoke and only served to clog his throat further. Victims of the beast doomed to suffer for hundreds and thousands of years until summon foolish enough to mess with what they didn’t understand came along to doom them all again. Tears left his eyes and sizzled off his cheeks as the hot breath of his pursuer ceaselessly washed over him. His suit was too hot and his lungs were burning and he had to keep his family safe and keep running but his legs were tiring and he couldn’t see and he couldn’t scream and he couldn’t breath he wanted to breathe-

Slamming into a tree he crumpled to the ground in a sorry heap, hands shaking and gasping for air he looked up into darkness, flames all encompassing as he felt himself melting in the heat. His fur curled and then burnt to nothing, monkey suit gone in favor of flesh that boiled instead and all in front of an impassive audience. He watched as his skin dripped away like a candle left lit to long and his blood rose from shriveling muscles and shrinking arteries in a vapor the beast greedily inhaled through heaving nostrils. One last effort, one last painful breath to reach out his hand, to quiet the snap of flames and moaning of the deceased and screaming of his lungs. A reach in understanding to never tamper with spirits of old and better left gone, through the flames that writhed with the agony of being born again and settling on something soft and small.

And then blissful silence.

-----

“So what happened to the prank?” Remus lifted a trying-very-hard-not-to-laugh Virgil into the bed of the truck, chucking a bag of marshmallows into his lap to keep him occupied.

Logan turned slightly, sleeping bag much lighter now without the suit clutched in his hands to load with the rest of their things. “I- must have fallen asleep. Apologies Remus.”

“It sounded like a good prank anyway.” Virgil piped up from the blanket pile he was currently nesting in. Remus had told him and Jnaus all that was supposed to have happened that morning when they had all woken from a fitful night’s sleep. Nightmares, they had said, revolving around- quoting Janus- that awful legend that “had I known you were going to tell Remus I would have said absolutely not until our son is older he reads bigfoot blogs not Steven King novels.”

“It wasn’t even on that level!” Remus had argued.

“You drew a sigil to make it more realistic-”

Logan hadn’t bothered to pay attention after that.

“Alright everything’s packed.” Janus winced by the passenger door. “Let’s go home where there’s actual mattresses that won’t break our backs.”

Grinning Remus hopped into the truck bed, immediately starting a blanket hogging argument with Virgil while Logan made his way to the driver's seat. Shutting the door decisively he glanced into the side mirror to see the same black cat sitting by their cleaned campfire, summoning seal rubbed thoroughly out of the dirt and stones returned to their respective places around the clearing. Nodding slightly before starting the car he looked back just in time to see the cat disappearing into the trees, thick green foliage quickly hiding it from view.

Hands gripping the wheel tightly he tucked his thumbs into his palms to hide the dirt and ash still trapped under his nails, letting the white noise of his family’s playful bickering lead him out of the burning forest.

#oren writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #remus sanders #sanders sides remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides janus #sanders sides deceit #logan sanders #sanders sides logan #virgil sanders #sanders sides virgil #logan x janus x remus #intrulociet #kid!virgil sanders #gift exchange fic #sanders sides halloween

[floret-cadaver]

Torture

Featuring: hachishaku-sama

The small child cowered in a corner as his mother stood above him whilst holding a sharp knife. Her eyes were empty and lifeless as she raised the knife again and slashed against his cotton-soft skin.

The child groaned and trembled as he felt more slashes against his skin as his mother was on her knees and close to his face, looking at him with the same empty void eyes. She pulled him by the hair and dragged him towards the kitchen as she slammed his head on the table over and over again. Blood oozed out from the tear on his scalp that grew bigger with each blow.

"Maya ... bang his head somewhere else ... can't you see I am eating?"

The child's father muttered in a deep voice at the mother as he was silently taking bite out of his sandwich on the dinner table. The mother lifted her head up to look at him and nodded.

She grabbed the kid and threw him against the fridge. The small child's eyes drooped as his nose and lips littered blood all over the floor. The child stood up with all the strength he had and ran towards the bedroom. He bumped into a tall figure, his father. He trembled in fear but quickly gripped his trouser pants and kept tugging at him while begging him to save him.

"Babyy.... you know? What your mother does is for your own good.. You . . SHOULD BE THANKFUL!!" He screamed as he grabbed the child by his hair and threw him onto the bed and slapped his belt onto his back. The child screamed in agony as he started wailing and grabbed the sheets.

"You know? You have been a really dirty boyyy~ mommy told me everything~ let's punish you" He said as he gripped onto the little child and ripped his clothes off ...

.

.

.

.

H-he... h-he... I am sorry but i-

"Specify in detail"

Yes sir..

The father... gripped onto his waist as he hungrily pushed inside the whimpering child who screamed shrilly upon the entrance. He screamed for his mother in the doorway who watched them.

"It's for your wellbeing.. we do everything for a reason.." the mother muttered as she looked at them both without emotions in her eyes.

The father pulled out as he jumped off of the bed and walked out of the door to his room. The child trembled as he gripped the sheets and tried to move but fell off the bed instead.

T h u d

"Owwie.. waaaaaah!" He started crying as his body hit the ground, the pain present becoming way worse.

He stood up whilst trembling too much. He managed to tumble towards the window, not caring enough to pull his pants on, he couldn't take it anymore. He opened the window and slumped outside. He fell outside on the greenery.

He looked around to see the forest treeline and nothing else beyond, only trees.. trees.. the beyond was nothing but dark. The house was in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of these big-tall trees.

At the moment all he needed was to get away from these monsters who were scarier than the ones under the bed, closet and his window. He got up with the support of his hands and started walking towards the treeline.

He stopped as he felt a gunshot firing and something hitting his leg whilst blood splattered out like a small fountain. He screamed shrilly as he dropped to the ground.

"What a disgrace! Running away!!" It was the all so familiar voice of his father along with his mother who was carrying a rifle in her hand. They looked down at him whilst he bled from every possible wound on his body.

Then all of a sudden, a white mist appeared appeared in the air as foggy as the ones during spring. A hand formed out of the mist and lunched forward his parents and gripped his father. The child rolled onto his chest as he watched in amusement. Savior has come!!!

The mist turned into a very tall lady with a deep and scary voice who grunted in her demonic tongue. She outstretched her limbs and ripped the father's arms off. The mother had pointed the gun at the creature and shot repeatedly at it, but it seems like it went through the creature. The creature finally finished decapitating the father's limbs as it lunged at the mother with a shrill scream, his mother, not moving an inch and stared dully at the creature with glossy eyes, she was dead already. The creature picked her up and slammed her head against the ground by holding her by the feet. The creature slammed it till her head burst open like a watermelon.

The child layed on the ground smiling whilst the parents silently looked at him. The child soon realized his delusion but it was too late anyway, his breath his hitched and halted to a stop. His head dropped sideways as blood dropped from his head to the green grass below.

the father chuckled to himself as he let out a shaky breath and the mother behind him still stood as lifeless as she was but a tear drop escaped through her eyes, as the inner mother buried deep inside her locked in a cage screamed in agony at the loss of her child.. but she couldn't do anything.

"Let's get rid of this shit, he was a mistake anyway" the father commented.

"No.. let his body stay here.. atleast the animals might have a good meal" she mumbled and turned around to leave.

And as for the creature... it stood there amongst the tall trees with a gaping hole of guilt through its heart as it watched the ordeal but stood still as they watched the life of the innocent suspended...

@floret-cadaver

#child abuse #hachishakusama #physical abuse #emotional abuse #angst

[lawscorazon]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐩

minors do not interact. ┊3.7k words

maybe being a screw up wasn’t so bad after all if it meant he could be loved by someone like you…

pairing: usopp x afab reader (no gendered language)

content warning: mutual pining, seducing, usopp’s first time, unprotected sex, creampie (no breeding kink), breast are a major focus, if this triggering for you pls skip this one!

“Y/N are you even listening?” Usopp called out to you.

“Yes, yes! I am listening. What is it again?” you lied. You had no real interest in all his gadgets and gizmos, quite frankly it all went over your head, but you loved seeing how he lit up when he talked about it so you sat up in your seat on the floor to appear more attentive.

“It’s my newest invention! I call it the Slick Star.” he continued, eyes wide in excitement. He looked so proud. He shot a glance to you for any hint of validation and you offered an enthusiastic nod signaling him to continue.

“So basically, I’ve got a bunch of toad oil and I was trying to figure out how to use it. I decided to encapsulate it in a ball to use with Kabuto for long-range attacks. When I shoot it, it’ll burst and coat the target in oil. I think it could be useful for something.” he explained, holding the Slick Star out in his hand for the two of you to marvel at.

You continued to nod in affirmation, feigning understanding. “Wow, Usopp you’re so clever and resourceful. I can’t wait to see how you use it.” you complimented.

“You think so?” A deep flush of red washed over the engineer’s cheeks as he scratched his head nervously, a bashful smile taking over his face. His demeanor then quickly shifted, now sitting up tall and puffing his chest proudly, “I mean- obviously you should. I’m the great God Usopp, worshiped for my bravery and tactful prowess.”

Your eyes flicked over him in silent amusement while he basked in his own glory before scoffing and palming him in the face, to which he fell back playing dead. You didn’t mean to be so cheeky with him, but it was the only reaction that could quell the agonizing warmth that spread through your chest whenever he flashed that smug grin. You found his bravado charming. It was one of the things you liked most about him. Thankfully, he couldn’t see you blushing from his corpse-like posture on the floor.

He resurrected himself from the dead, possessed by his former zeal. “You wanna see it in action?” he asked, already bringing himself to stand, looking for his Kabuto. He grabbed the slingshot from a nearby corner and rushed back to meet you, already placing a Slick Star into the leather pad and taking aim.

“Usopp are you sure it’s a good idea to shoot that thing in here?” you cautioned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he dismissed, biting his tongue absentmindedly and closing an eye to focus his shot onto a stack of cardboard boxes nearby. Before you could protest any further, he launched the weapon onto his target, only for it to ricochet off the boxes. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion as both your eyes bulged open following the star, jaws dropping when you realized it was now flying towards you. Frozen in your seat, you were unable to move as it zipped towards you. Panic was written all over Usopp’s face. He dove through the air trying to catch the blow before it hit you. The little ball grazed the tip of his finger before it exploded, hitting you square in the chest.

He fell into your lap, head bowed in defeat. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, allowing your lungs to expand completely before letting it out again. You were trying so hard to stay calm, to relax the fist that was clenching painfully tight. It was just an accident, you tried to tell yourself, a stupid accident made by a stupid long-nosed engineer.

Usopp slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze. He winced prematurely, anticipating the tongue lashing that was sure to come his way. But before he reached your eyes, he was met with something else staring him dead in the face. The Slick Star had drenched your white tank top in oil, making it completely transparent. He was a staring match with your nipples, and good God, he was losing.

When you finally stifled the urge to ring your hands around his neck, you looked down at your idiot nakama to find his eyes fixed elsewhere. You followed his gaze to see what the fuck he could be staring at when he should be apoligiz-

“Oh, my god!” you shrieked, covering yourself with your arms. You were absolutely mortified when you looked down to see your breasts so clearly through your tank top.

Usopp scurried out of your lap in a crab walk. “Y/N! I'm so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I didn’t see- I mean I did, but- here, uh, take this,” he stammered, shielding his eyes with his hand and grabbing an old t-shirt from one of the boxes.

You snatched it from him with a violent glare before turning away to change your soiled clothes. You couldn’t believe your luck. This was so embarrassing! You wanted to shrink into yourself until you were so small you’d slip between the floorboards where you’d hide for the rest of your life. Removing the clingy fabric, you set it down on top of some crates nearby. You tried your best to rub in the excess oil (It was good stuff. You made a note to ask for a jar later). Looking around the workplace, it was littered with towers of boxes and large shelves decorated with trinkets. There was a certain charm to the room that filled you with a gentle warmth. You smiled at the thought. That being said, he really should straighten the place up a bit. An accident was bound to happen.

Taking the new shirt in your hand, you inhaled another deep breath and exhaled the remaining irritation to reveal a tinge of guilt in your gut. You hoped you weren’t too harsh on Usopp. It really was just an accident. Looking up, you noticed his reflection in a nearby mirror that was leaning against the other haphazard stack of boxes on the other side of his workroom. He was pacing in circles, gnawing at his fingers. If you listened closely you could hear him muttering curses to himself. You couldn't help but chuckle. He looked kind of adorable, all flustered like that.

“Usopp?” you called.

“Yes?” he answered, snapping out of his trance. He whipped around to face you again, eyes opening wide seeing that you were even more exposed than before.

“Calm down, I’m not mad at you. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s not like this is your first time seeing boobs before,” you said, in an attempt to quell his anxiety. As you shuffled the shirt around in your hands, looking for the collar, you laughed at the thought. Usopp was always boasting about his sexual conquests and you figured he could have frabricated the numbers but surely at least some of them were based in fact, though his current silence was deafeningly loud. Wait… No. It couldn’t have all been a lie?

You paused in your tracks, whipping your head around to face him. “Usopp, is this your first time seeing boobs?” you asked.

You didn’t think his cheeks could get any redder. His eyes shifted across the room, trying to focus on anything but you. “No, no, pfft of course not. I’ve seen thousands of them. I-“

“Usopp,” you interrupted, a song-like cadence in your voice, “are you lying to me?” You discarded the shirt as well as your modesty, sauntering towards the jittery man. Something about the way he was reduced to a babbling mess just by looking at your form emboldened you.

“I- b-bu- no! I-,” as you approached him, his eyes were glued to your chest, transfixed by the way they bounced in your gate. Is it hot in here? He swore that the temperature had increased significantly. He was sweating buckets. Maybe I should open a window…

You took note of his stare. “Do you like what you see?” you baited, now standing directly under him. Looking up at him through your lashes, you toyed with his suspenders, running your fingers under the elastic.

“Yes,” he confessed a little too eagerly for his liking, but your gentle touch was sending shivers down his spine and scrambling his thoughts.

“Would you like to touch them?” you proposed, now running your delicate hands over his skin.

“Ar-are you sure? I-“ you placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Usopp. Yes or no?” you urged. You wouldn’t press any further without his explicit consent.

He nodded head quickly. “Yes.”

A sinful smirk sprouted from your lips as you trailed your hands down his arms to grab his timid hands and place them on your breasts. He held them, marveling at their weight and luster from the oil. They’re so warm, he thought, they felt like they would burn right through his hands. He looked down at you with uncertainty, searching for validation in your reaction. You offered him a low hum as you purse your lips into a smile. The gesture was enough to boost his confidence a little as his motions became more assured.

His hands glided over your skin effortlessly. You were so soft. This wasn’t a huge revelation, though. Whenever he was with you, he made sure to take note of all the sensations. He cataloged them in his mind, placing his favorite ones on shelves much like the room you were in now. And much like this room, the shelves were stocked full. You always smelled of the sea and lavender. He noted the heat that always radiated from your body when you sat next to him, arms only a hair away from touching. Or when your hand lingered on his thigh for a little too long while you braced your boisterous laughter. And his favorite of all, when you hugged him. When you clung to his body, he treasured the butterflies that swarmed his chest and the goosebumps that spread over his skin.

His feelings for you were immeasurable. All he wanted was to be respected by you. Every tall tale, every stretch of the truth was a premature declaration of the person he wished to be for you. Hell, it’s the reason he had gotten himself in this mess in the first place. Never in his wildest dreams would he expect his blunder to be rewarded like this, but the fact that you liked him despite his idiocy made his heart flutter. As soft moans continued to fall from your lips, he was determined to make you feel just as good.

“Can I?” he asked, leaning down to hover his mouth over your hardening nipples.

You nodded gently. He took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and nibbling at it gently while kneading them in his hands. He didn’t have much expertise. The only knowledge he had was from overhearing the rest of the guys talk about their past conquests. But from the sweet sounds that we’re tumbling from your lips he figured he couldn’t be doing too bad. He released you from his mouth and his gaze twinkled with an adoration that lit a fire through your chest.

You pulled him up by his face to bring him into a kiss. Taking the lead, you pressed your lips against his astonishing soft and voluptuous ones, gently kissing his bottom lip. He jolted slightly against you before relaxing into the embrace. Each pass of your lips dancing together felt electric, the thud of your combined heartbeats booming like fireworks. The excitement took over you, rushing your movements. Your fingers tangled through his coily tresses, gripping it firmly to deepen the kiss. He parted his lips slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside. Usopp’s hands trailed down your body, taking your ass in his hands before snaking his fingers under the hem of your shorts to feel more of you. Feeling just as eager, you tugged at his suspenders letting them fall over his arms. When you began to tug at his pants, his eyes widened with pure dread and he hastily pulled away.

“Wait, wait, wait…” he said, grabbing your hands.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Am I being too forward? I’m sorry-“ you panicked.

“No! No, no, no! You’re perfect. You’re so perfect. It’s just that…” he paused for a moment, dropping his gaze. “This is a first for me too. I just want to make sure I’m doing this right.”

“Oh, Usopp.” you soothed, taking his face in your hands. “How about we slow things down a bit, does that sound okay?” you asked with a smile.

He nodded, placing his hands atop yours, stroking it with his thumb. His eyes flick between your lips and your eyes as he slowly leaned in, joining your lips in another kiss. The heated sparks faded into low embers as you explored each other’s bodies, gentle hands floating over soft skin, goosebumps and muffled moans. With his hands wrapped around your waist, Usopp ushered you to the ground, never removing his lips from yours. You cradled your arms around his neck to guide yourself onto the floor before he pulled away again. Untangling your limbs from him, he got up from his seat to walk across the room. You watched him from the floor confused as he rummaged through some boxes. What could he possibly be looking for at a time like this?

He dug through a box and pulled out a small, plush blanket. “The floor is kinda dirty,” he said with a nervous chuckle and spread the blanket out on the floor, frantically brushing off any dust bunnies. Kneeling on the blanket he offered his hand and a sweet smile, waiting for you to join him.

You felt the sting of oncoming tears and blinked them away. It was such a simple gesture, but the kindness and thoughtfulness of it made your heart flutter. Usopp was so sweet it was sickening. You couldn’t help but feel lucky to share this experience with such a loving person.

Taking his hand, you allowed him to guide you on to the blanket and he pulled you into a kiss again, ushering you into your back. He trailed tender pecks down your neck, sitting himself between your legs to continue his way down your chest. He stopped to kiss and fondle your breasts before making his way down your torso to your shorts. He looked up at you for approval to remove them, to which you nodded with a smile and lifted your hips as aid.

Usopp guided them off your legs, lifting them in the air. When you were finally bare before him, he paused for a moment to admire your body, scared to blink as though he might wake up from this dream.

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful.” he doted, absolutely smitten by your form.

Your cheeks flushed as you offered a shy smile. “Thank you.”

He kissed the top of your foot peppering kisses all the way back down your legs with an earnest devotion. You shivered in anticipation as he inched closer and closer to where you so desperately wanted him to be. He kissed the inside of your thighs, marveling at your sex on display in front of him, then ran a curious finger through your folds coating them in your essence. The slight touch electrified your sensitive nerves, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He shot up a cautioned glance, feeling you flinch under his touch, his hand motionless having feared he’d hurt you.

“I’m okay. It feels good,” you assured him.

A sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pushed a finger into your entrance. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head feeling his thick finger slide through your walls. Once he was fully inside, Usopp halted his movements to make sure you were okay. You were so warm and tight around his finger and feeling you twitch against them sent waves of arousal to his groin. And pretty soon he'd have the pleasure of being inside of you? He felt like the luckiest man alive.

“Usopp… ngh-more.” you pleaded in a breathless moan, bucking into his hand.

Usopp began to move his finger in and out of you in a steady pace then slipped a second digit in with the first. You mewled at the feeling of him filling you up, covering your face as pleasure began to take hold of you. He was starting to get the hang of it, quickening his pace to a brisk thrust. As you continued to whimper and writh under his ministrations, he remembered something Sanji said, something about curling your fingers to find the P-place? D-spot? He couldn’t remember but he did as adviced and was rewarded by an unrestrained moan from you. White hot pleasure ripped through your body when Usopp rammed into your G-spot. After a few more thrust your pussy clenched around his fingers and your orgasm hit you with full force.

Your body trembled as you came down from your high, absolutely overwhelmed by the orgasm that just wrecked through your body. It took everything in you to fight the tears that threatened to escape your eyes.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” you asked in amazement.

Usopp removed his fingers from you, marveling at his hand as if he had just yielded the power of some magical weapon. In true Usopp fashion, he quickly concealed any inkling of naivete with an assured geste.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m a natural” he shrugged, with a smug smile. Rolling your eyes at his loftiness you shut him up with another kiss.

Remaining connected by your lips you both worked to remove his clothes. Your fingers made quick work of unfastening the buttons of his pants. He clumsily kicked them off along with his shoes.

He kneeled proudly between your legs now fully exposed to you and good God, it was a sight to behold. You saw him shirtless all the time. Everyone was amaze by how jacked he got while he was away at the Boin Archipelago, but seeing his toned arms and torso in context with the rest of him left you speechless. Not to mention, Usopp had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. Not too long, just the right amount of girth, and absolutely oozing for you. Your pussy throbbed at the chance of feeling his length inside of you.

He noticed you gawking and his lips slipped into a sheepish grin. It felt good to be desired for once. Usopp felt as confident as ever.

“Are you ready?” he asked, pumping his cock a few times in excitement.

“Yes, but go slow, hotshot.” you advised.

Usopp offered you a nod before guiding his cock to your entrance, brushing his tip against your lips to coat it in your essence. He shuddered at the feeling of your warmth against his head. The excitement of it all made his heart thump rapidly in his chest. He searched for another look of approval from you before pressing himself into you slowly.

You braced yourself with a hand on his arm upon feeling him fill you up. You moaned in unison as your bodies meshed together. He was so big. You were so tight.

Once fully seated, he took a deep, shaky breath and began rocking his hips into you. Warm wouldn’t begin to explain the way that your steamy pussy was gripping around him. It felt better than any hand could. As his thrusts pushed deeper and deeper into you, the sweetest whimpers and moans he’d ever heard began to tumble from your lips, brows scrunched in pleasure. It sent a wave of arousal flooding his body. Holy fuck, you feel so good, he thought to himself. Maybe a little too good… Wait! No, no, no, no, no-

Then he came. Hard. Body seizing up before going limp. Usopp almost collapsed on top of you, catching himself with his arm. Dread was written all over his expression. He tried to hide his face in his arm, not wanting to face you. A woeful string of “no’s” were uttered under his breath like a prayer to whatever God there may be. May she be so merciful as to wake him up from this dream - no, this nightmare.

Your heart broke for him. You felt so bad.

“Usopp, look at me- look at me! It’s okay!” you consoled, grabbing his face in your hands. He buried his face in your neck to avoid you. He wished he could bury himself six feet underground instead.

“I had fun. Did you have fun?” you asked, stroking his hair.

His voice was muffled against your neck. “Yes, but-“

“Then that’s all that matters,” you interjected.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to make you come, not the other way around,” he whined.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s not a performance, Usopp, it’s an experience and I am very grateful to have shared this experience with you. If you really want to make me come with your cock, then we’ll just have to do this again sometime, yeah?” you proposed.

He peeked his head from your shoulder like a little turtle. “Promise?” His lips were formed into an adorable pout.

“Promise,” you smiled.

He plopped down next to you with a groan. You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling into his chest. “Y/N, I don’t know why you’re so good to a screw-up like me.”

“Because I like you,” you said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

His body tensed at your casual confession of affection. Did you have any idea what that meant to him? “You do??” he gasped.

“Mhm,” you nodded with rosy cheeks, eyes sparkling in adoration.

The heat in Usopp’s cheeks was almost unbearable. Maybe being a screw-up wasn’t so bad after all if it meant he could be loved by someone like you. Just the thought of it made his throat tighten as tears began to glass over his eyes.

He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, pulling you closer to him. “I like you too.”

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