#the tree was bare and there was no ladder

[alliumdykes]

Im writing this before i forget but i had a dream where there was an unreleased vlog where Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit, Philza, and Tubbo went on britians got talent for some reason and there was an unrealised fake song that played after and the corus of it was like:

‘Look at the mountains, the prettiest of trees, these are some of my favourite things, you never will see’

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #philza #tubbo #weird dreams #obvi this isnt all that happened #at one point tommys head was popping out of a tree and it was the top #the tree was bare and there was no ladder

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

#Photography #March 2018 #Outdoors #Distance #Fresh Snow #Winter #Snow Storm #Back Yard #Crates #Ladders #Outdoor Chairs #Bushes #Buildings #Windows #Bare Trees #Bare Branches #Nature #Snow #Yard #Chairs #Trees #Branches #My Snaps #My Photos #My Photography

[lilac-5ky]

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Date with a ghost

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Summary: Being at the bottom of the ladder in your class with a non-combat oriented technique, you are prompted by Gojo to summon a dead sorcerer as a learning experience. However, when none other than Fushiguro Toji appears in your room, you find yourself practicing more than just your cursed technique.

Tags: Student!reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18, Toji early 30s), Oral Sex (both f. and m. receiving), Manipulation, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Pet Names (princess, baby, etc), Cowgirl, Toji being a horny asshole that gets redeemed at the end? Sort of.

Word Count: less than 6k.

“But, sensei, is this really necessary?”

You tilted the sphere between your fingers, sizing it up. It weighed no more than a baseball ball did, yet its price must be comparable to that of an entire stadium. A cursed item among cursed items given to a mere grade 3 sorcerer who barely stood out amidst the renowned prodigies of Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was a waste of both time and effort and yet the white-haired man before you begged to differ, eyes glinting a vibrant sky-blue hue from underneath his dark shades.

“Doubting your favorite teacher, Y/N?” he chuckled only to sulk a second later when you asked him what deluded him into thinking he was your favorite.

Undeterred, he continued “I feel like a broken record here, but do yourself a favor and have a bit more confidence. Graduation is two months away, don’t you wanna prove your worth till then? It’s not too late to climb a couple of steps up the ladder. You could easily shoot up to Grade 2. Look at the rest of your class—”

A firm albeit reassuring grip latched itself onto your shoulder, gently twisting you in the direction of your classmates.

The heatwave must have gotten to them for good, blood boiling under the vicious sun rays. Their sleeves and pants were rolled high above their elbows and knees respectively, foreheads glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that dribbled down their necks.

Just looking at them made your skin crawl with uneasiness.

You didn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would willingly trade the shade of these blessed pine trees for the scorching furnace that the schoolyard was, but when you stopped paying attention to their clothes and took in their blissful expression, you felt a lump swell in your throat.

The two of them were practically beaming, giggling, and prancing around the water fountains without a care in the world— and why should they have anything to worry about when they were Grade 1 at seventeen? A Kamo and a distant cousin to the Zen’ins, both guaranteed to walk a path strewn with rose petals since birth. No trial or tribulation whatsoever.

Your teacher’s voice was muffled into white noise while you were busy shooting daggers at the duo, part of you wishing to join them in their harmless idiocy, and another silently praying that in your next life, you’d be lucky enough to be born into one of their clans. No one questioned the value of a Kamo. No one went against a Zen’in with an inherited technique.

“So, we good? Tell me I didn’t waste 15 minutes of my precious time for nothing.” His fingers squeezed at your shoulder, causing your attention to shift.

You had no idea what he’d been saying, though you’d sat through plenty of pep talks already to guess the gist of it. “You have potential, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down like this. You can do it!” All empty words without real meaning. Worthless. Not everyone had what it takes to become the next Gojo Satoru. Some people were born to be stepping stones for others, and you were perfectly fine with it. No half-assed aspiration would spur you on.

“If I do this… will you leave me alone?”

A Cheshire cat grin spanned from one corner of his mouth to the other. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake Gojo for an overzealous teacher whose earnest goal was to see his students succeed. Not you. You’d spent enough time in his presence to know that his whole “Teacher of the Year” shtick hid an agenda of its own. It was a matter of time to find out what his true motive was.

“What’s the plan?”

“Now we are talking,” he sang in glee. “Very simple, really. You just hold this between your palms and channel as much cursed energy as possible to its center. The ball will absorb it like a magnet and continue drawing from you until you have a clear picture of your target. Then, assuming all goes well and you don’t pass out,” a quiet “What?!” was overwritten by his voice, “you’ll get your very own date with a spirit. Isn’t that exciting?”

Nothing about your expression screamed excitement, eyes squinting in slits and bottom lip quivering into a frown. “And who’s my target, exactly?”

“A Zen’in sorcerer,” he said.

“A Zen’in sorcerer you say,” your eyes wandered again to that soaked blockhead in the distance, the black mop he had for hair flapping left and right. “Ain’t the one over there good enough?”

Shaping a cone around his mouth, Gojo yelled at the top of his lungs for the kids to wait up so they could play together. The duo cheered excitedly, shouting some sort of inside joke you knew nothing about right back at him. Wasn’t the first time you were excluded, and it certainly wasn’t the first time you questioned how this man came to be the world’s most talented sorcerer, either.

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his smile softened as he lowered his voice. “The Zen’in I’m talking about has been dead for a little more than a hundred years now. Unfortunately, his name is erased from our logs,” of course it is “but that shouldn’t hinder you too much. He was an immensely powerful sorcerer with a great amount of cursed energy to back his technique up. An anomaly, if you like.”

“What kind of technique?” “The ten shadows technique,” he answered. “Out of all the Shikigami users, he is perhaps the strongest there’s ever been.”

“Stronger than you, sensei?”

The way his nose scrunched made you regret asking, knowing that a haughty declaration was dangling from the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a never-ending spiel of self-praise.

“And why should I invoke him in particular?” you quickly changed the subject. “I thought our goal was to hone my spirit-channeling technique and increase my cursed energy flow while we’re at it.”

“That we are doin’, but why not kill two birds with one stone? A new ten-shadow user has risen. I’m sure whatever trick that old dog has up his sleeve will be useful to our little Meg—” He feigned a smile of innocence at his slip. “All you gotta do is chit-chat him into giving you some info. Toss in a few compliments, butter him up. Shouldn’t take more than a few words to convince him, spirits are dying to be summoned— Oh well, unfortunate choice of words. What do you say? You’re in?”

Your groan was all the answer he required to beeline straight to the water fountains, his chirpy laugh echoing from afar. This guy, you huffed, examining the crystal ball anew. There was no way out of this. Either you did his bidding or you’d be forced to endure the obnoxious sound of his voice all summer long.

“Couldn’t you have chosen anything more cliche than a crystal ball?” you snarled, convinced he hadn’t heard you.

“Ouija board was already taken,” he warbled unexpectedly, voice meshing with that of your peers as they ran around in circles, dark-colored uniforms turning darker with every splash of water. “Besides, this has a bit of pink in it,” he referred to the rosy shaded base. “Much cuter than a bunch of rusty letters, right?”

You groaned as you shoved the item into your tote bag, making no mistake to talk out loud again as you turned on your heel. A pinch of jealousy punctured your chest, relieved by every step you took away from the scene and away from the fun the three of them were having.

“Looks like we’re having a date with a ghost tonight.”

It was a quarter past twelve when you decided to put that little experiment to work, the coast clear of overbearing parents and annoying little brothers who wanted nothing more than to disrupt your so-called “studying session”. As far as your family was concerned, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (Tokyo Jujutsu High for short) was your average educational institution that had somehow recognized the value of your mediocre grades and scouted you when you were still in middle school— no questions asked from either side.

You wouldn’t go as far as to call your own family a bunch of dimwits, but the signs were all there. A teacher merely four years older than you were, his odd sartorial decisions only second to his eccentric personality. A class made up of four students dramatically and suddenly decreasing to a party of three. An unknown man in a suit and tie driving you back and forth between “emergency study dates” in the dead of night. The lack of studying material in your backpack as opposed to the exams you constantly stressed over. Your unreasonable reaction when your mother stored a cursed tool in with the silver cutlery.

Even if you straight up walked to them with a banner that read “I exorcise curses”, you doubted they’d have anything more to say than a plain “Good for you”, not because they were stupid, but because they simply didn’t care at all.

They didn’t care enough to bat an eye when seven-year-old you tugged at daddy’s trousers, whimpering about a squid-like creature sneaking in your closet, and didn’t care enough to try and justify the stream of water flooding down the corridor. They didn’t care that your imaginary friends were more akin to monsters, and they didn’t care about you being away from home 350 days a year. It was convenient not to. That’s how they were able to drink their woes away at the local bar on a Thursday night with a clear conscience, having offloaded that pest of a brother at your grandparents’ for the fifth consecutive night.

Poor kid. If he wasn’t so despicable, your big sister instincts might have kicked in and raised an objection, though as things currently were suited you best. Rituals required focus, and you needed to make sure no one would bust through the door and interrupt your conversation with Mister Whatever-his-name-was.

You’d taken care of all your basic needs —eating a reheated portion of lasagna, cleansing your body of the worldly filth that stained it, catching a rerun of your favorite show’s latest episode, and cursing Gojo for making you miss it in the first place— and were now seated on your room’s floor with the crystal ball nesting between your bare thighs, the cold sensation much welcome on this excruciatingly warm evening where sitting on the fuzzy carpet seemed like the greatest torture imaginable.

It was only March and you were already in your skimpiest outfit of all; a frilly pair of dusty-pink shorts and a matching low-cut tank top dressing your sweat-beaded body. Dark spots saturated the fabric, demanding your fingers fanned it every two seconds. The worst had yet to come. By the time summer arrived, the final thing for you to crawl out of would be your own skin.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you returned to the item at hand. It’d been fairly long since you’d last performed a seance. Your role in the recent assignments was to support your classmates from the sidelines, exorcising whatever lower-grade curse got in their way with the aid of various cursed tools.

The white-haired nuisance could claim your technique was useful all he wanted, but at the end of the day, yours were simply not meant for combat. Best case scenario, after graduation, the higher-ups would put you on a 9 to 5 job, where you could dig whatever intel they wanted from the comfort of your cramped-up desk; away from your haughty classmates, and away from Gojo Satoru.

You rolled your fingers around the globe’s surface, pads tingling with waves of cursed energy as they seeped into the crystal. Slowly, a dark purple aura came to distort its translucence with colors and shapes of various magnitudes. Shadow-like forms gathered at the seams, remnants of pent-up energy colliding and converging with one another at one focal point. All ready to go!

You began mentally chanting the surname of your target, over and over again until the slideshow of foggy faces diminished to that of a select few candidates from the same bloodline. Some, you would imagine had died when they were still in their prime, measly fledglings of sorcerers with eyes retaining that youthful glossiness, while others seemed to have lived enough to see themselves turn into dehydrated raisins with next to zero cursed energy left.

Once you’d gone through your classmate’s entire family tree at least three times, you caught yourself admitting that despite their faults and innate air of pretension, the Zen’ins weren’t particularly hard on the eyes. Especially that one guy whose mug kept reappearing at random intervals, the slanted scar of his lips lingering in your mind well after the next contender’s appearance. There was something about him, be it the lack of aura he emitted or the viridescent hue of his eyes that had you replaying the frame at the expense of your own energy.

You were drawn to him in an inexplicable way that, at the time, you attributed to fate. It had to be him, right? That must have been why the dope you had for a mentor insisted on calling this a date. Even if he didn’t know the sorcerer’s name, he must have known how insanely attractive the guy was, right?

And suddenly, you felt a sliver of gratitude overcome you, eyelids snapping shut with the Zen’in sorcerer’s face as clear as day behind them, while you chanted the incantation Gojo himself had taught you.

“From the murky shroud of oblivion, I invoke thou out the shadows and blight to bask in heavenly light. Through me gain life, and through life gain thine blessed power.”

No more than a few seconds had passed when you heard a thud, your gaze meeting with that of the very man you’d summoned.

The orb barely did him any justice. Not as if crystal balls were ideal measuring instruments, but you’d need about ten more of those to depict his height as he towered over you, the bulky frame of his shoulders casting a large shadow on the wall behind your head. He was dressed in a much more casual manner than one would expect of someone who’d been dead for over a century, with corded veins and taut muscles peaking underneath a black compression shirt, waist accentuated where his hips met with a pair of baggy pants. And once you got to his face— you must have lost track of time staring into the gem-like green orbs of his eyes, considering you didn’t notice the scowl his lips wore until his tone pointed it out.

“The hell is this?” He sounded just like he looked, the bass of his timbre ringing most pleasantly in your ears.

You wouldn’t know what being dead felt like, but if it was anything remotely close to sitting on a dead leg for hours on end, you guessed he’d rather take a moment to adjust over an answer.

His soles circled the tiny space, eyes dancing between the fairy lights on the wall, the moonless sky —and by extension the empty driveway outside your window—, the three Polaroids on your desk that depicted an old family trip to Seoul (your mother silently accusing him from the frame for the crime of wearing his shoes inside the house), and lastly, you. His gaze feasted on your body as if he’d been starved for ages and you were the first oasis in the desert, his expression gradually easing into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got a name, sweetheart?” he asked in a syrupy sweet tone, the nickname he’d come up with making you doubt he’d use your actual name even if you shared it.

You set the ball aside and hopped on your feet, standing on somewhat more equal ground, though not equal enough to completely diminish the difference in height. He was massive, and you were still processing the kind of person that possessed the power to end this man’s life.

“Name’s Y/N,” you extended your hand. “You must be master Zen’in, nice to meet you!”

He merely glanced at your gesture, leaving you to embarrass yourself without a single qualm. “No one’s called me that in some time,” he expressed wryly. “You know about me?”

You nodded, wiping your palm against your shorts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a spirit act all high and mighty, a Zen’in at that. “Who hasn’t heard of the greatest sorcerer there’s ever been?” you chuckled, Gojo’s bootlicking advice coming in for the clutch. “You are somewhat of a legend in the Jujutsu world. The one who mastered the ten shadows technique like no other.”

“Is that who I am now,” he pondered out loud, his index briefly scratching his jaw. “I guess I am,” he grinned with confidence. “That why you summoned me? Wanted to meet with great ol’ me in person?”

“Something like it,” you admitted, finding it hard not to smile back. “I just so happen to be acquainted with this idiot who’s a big fan of yours. Had me use my technique for a passing grade.”

A low hum prompted you to continue. “He’s a real pain in the ass,” you groaned. “Calls himself ‘the strongest’ and acts as if he’s ‘teacher of the year’ when he forces me to fish out intel like some lackey— Actually, you might have heard of his family name before, they’ve been around for ages. Gojo,” quickly adding “Satoru.”

At the sound of your teacher’s name, the man’s eyes widened, his darkened pupils blown with an emotion akin to rage. You weren’t sure what great calamity the Gojos had brought upon him in his previous life, but being familiar with their descendant you doubted they put much effort into it.

“The six eyes is your teacher?” he asked, not giving you enough time to question how on earth he knew that title before he pitched in another question. “So, ya just a kid, huh?”

“I’m not!” you objected. “Turned 18 a while ago.”

“A while, you say?” he arched a brow.

“I’m closer to 19 if anything,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“19,” he mocked, his droopy eyelids incapable of hiding the way he sized your figure up.

You didn’t even think to put on a bra before the ritual started. Just like you could vividly picture what his pecs looked like under his clothes, your flimsy outfit left little to the imagination, the sweat that’d shimmered across your collarbones and cleavage working in your favor.

“Nah, you are right. No kid could ever have a body like that. Plump and ripe in all the right places,” his tongue lapped over his bottom lip, salacious stare prodding at what your arms kept hidden. “That’s a woman’s body, no doubt.”

Heat spread from your chest all the way to your cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t because of the room’s overbearing heat. Your toes sunk inside the carpet, thighs awkwardly rubbing together. You’d found yourself in such a position before, yet never with a boy like him— never with a man like him.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, your fingers hesitantly sliding down your elbows.

He took a step closer, lacking hesitation as he lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb gently caressing it.

“Gonna let me look at the rest, baby?” his other hand encompassed your hip, the size of his palm alone making you feel oh-so small and fragile before him. “I’ll make ya a deal if you lemme. Tell ya anything you wanna know and more— heh, I’ll make sure ya pass with flying colors.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

Depriving you of the chance to deny his advances, the man slotted his lips between yours and pulled back almost instantaneously, overjoyed to catch you leaning into his touch for more.

You weren’t sure why this was happening— why you were letting this happen. He was a stranger who barely qualified as being alive, and at the time of his death, he was closer to your father’s age than yours. But he was there, and he was paying you attention, and the way he spoke to you as if he already knew your answer ahead of your mouth had warmth spiraling to the lower parts of your body.

Rather than giving in to your pouty lips, the man whose name you didn’t even know cupped your breasts in both his hands, calloused thumbs making quick work of your nipples as they peaked below the drenched fabric, rolling the sensitive buds into full hardness.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he praised, kneading at your supple skin almost adoringly.

The straps of your top slid down your shoulders, and you felt the ghost of a smile press onto your neck, his warm mouth smearing wet kisses right to where your neck and shoulders connected. You bit back a sigh, your breath audibly strained.

“Bet you wanna be touched, hmm?” he continued, finding the sweet spot you didn’t know you had, and pressed on, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh coaxing a purr from deep within your throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shudder. “That why you’re dressed like a slut? Wanna be treated like one, mm?” his lips parted again, tongue lapping over the delicate bruise his teeth left as he pinched your nipples harshly. A moan was ripped from your slack jaw, the insult he carelessly threw adding to the slick between your thighs.

“Sounds about right,” he smirked. “Well, I’m not complaining. You’re a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”

He didn’t ask for permission before he tugged at your shirt, your breasts spilling out with a single bounce. You saw him wet his lips once more, fingers seizing your now-exposed nipples and lustful eyes admiring them up close. You hadn’t noticed how close he was standing until his hips bucked against yours, alerting you to how painfully hard he’d gotten underneath his pants. The six-year-long refractory period his body was subjected to was far too cruel— though you wouldn’t know about that until much later.

“Tell me,” he requested, pausing just so he could look you dead in the eye. “Have you ever done this before?”

His lips traversed the valley of your breasts, rough palms sliding languidly across your ribs and waist. You could see him hold you like that while being inches deep in you. Slamming your frail little set of bones against your desk’s wooden surface. Pounding your hole for your parents to return to their precious daughter bent in half by some stranger. Bruising Gojo’s star student until the smug smile was wiped from his obnoxious mouth for good.

All those reasons made you nod at his question, not caring that he’d be ten times rougher because of your white lie. If anything, you looked forward to that.

“Sure you’re not lying to me?” he read your mind like an open book, the elastic of your shorts being torn away from your body. “Won’t be mad if y’are. I love myself a sweet little virgin. Love how whiny their voices get. How,” he lowered himself onto his knees, palm pushing you to sit on your bed “cute their little tight cunts look all stretched around me.”

His hot breath fanned over your soaked panties, index lazily rubbing back and forth between your clothed slit, the added friction sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine.

“You really aren’t one, are ya?”

You shook your head repeatedly like a bobblehead doll, propping your weight onto your elbows as he lifted your legs on his shoulders, the reality of his choppy raven hair nuzzling to your thighs finally hitting you.

“You said all you wanted to do was look, right?” the finger that was hooked around your underwear stopped. “That was the deal…”

For a brief yet conscious second, his eyes bore into yours with such spite that you thought you’d completely messed up. Only a virgin would dare say something this stupid. If he wasn’t bound to you by the ritual, he’d be out the door the moment you spat those words, you knew it, but then his knuckles brushed over your abdomen to find the hand that clenched onto the sheets, and you realized that wasn’t the case.

“Deals get altered and terms renewed all the time,” he mumbled distractedly, deeply inhaling your scent on his nose, while your fingers unfolded between his lips. You gasped, the sight of him fucking them in and out his mouth —tongue slithering right in the middle and saliva dribbling down his chin as he popped them out— enough to hypnotize whatever sense out of your brain.

“I’ll make ya a new deal,” he hummed, gently directing them to your mouth as if he beckoned you to do the same. A smirk tugged at his scar as he watched your pink lips obediently part and round around your own fingers. He didn’t let go until he heard you choke, secretly plotting to replace them with something else—sooner, than later.

“My technique is what interests you, right? How about instead of telling you, I show you?”

You tried to remove your hand, but he shoved it back in, his true colors pouring into a devilish smile. “I’ve had enough of your voice. All you gotta do is sit back like the good little girl I know you are and keep your legs nice and spread for me. How’s that?”

The only thing your head could manage was pathetically bob up and down in agreement, your fingers stuck in your mouth like a damn pacifier, while your cunt pulsed at every single word he uttered; derogatory or not. Were it any other guy talking down to you like that, your knuckles would be leaving an impermanent imprint on his cheek. Were it any other guy treating you as if you had no volition of your own as if you were just a toy for him to break, and you—

There wouldn’t be any other guy for you ever again. He’d make sure of it.

He ripped the fabric into a single shred and tossed it over his shoulder without caring where it landed- your bedside lamp. He looked down at your pussy, debating to himself whether to start with his tongue or fingers first, calculating the time it’d take for him to prep you for his cock down to the last second. He might’ve been a lot less nice than he pretended to be, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

“Let’s see,” he tipped forward, the way his forefinger slipped between your folds without any resistance whatsoever bringing you shame. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, his digit triumphantly pulling out and smearing your slick all over your puffy lips. “Is that all for me, sweetheart? So fucking wet just for me?”

Your hips bucked forward as an answer to his question and he thought he wouldn’t mind taking things slow for once— see how much you could take before you came completely undone.

“Girls like you make the best fuck,” he cooed, voice echoing right through your core. “Surrendering to the first sweet word they hear.” His thumb circled your clit, flicking at the little bundle of nerves. “Leaking at the slightest of touch.” His middle and ring fingers joined in the action, burying themselves as far inside walls as your tight hole let him push. “Breaking so easily.” He drooled, coating your entire pussy in his thick saliva before allowing himself a taste, tongue lapping at the mix of juices straight from the source.

Your thighs clenched around him, muffling the lewdness of a whimper as he looked up at you, his smirk loosening with every kitten lick across your flesh. You wanted to say something, to call out his name and moan for him, but it all felt so unpracticed— similarly to how unpracticed your cunt was when it came to the girth of his fingers; much bigger than yours, more experienced too. He reached depths you didn’t know existed, bringing your body such pleasure that had you writhing for more, hips slamming against his face.

He groaned, his own arousal throbbing against his lower abdomen, begging him to get this over with. “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

You felt your cheeks ignite anew, the eyes you’d fallen for at first sight overflowing with lust, convincing you it felt as good for him as it felt for you.

“Can’t let ya do that,” he parted your folds, fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue darted between your lips, his nose intentionally nudging the pink nub with each deep stroke against your spongy spot. “Gotta earn it first.”

You stared at him like an idiot, wondering to yourself if somewhere between his refusal to shake your hand and his eagerness to quench his thirst with your body you’d passed away because that was what heaven ought to feel like. That was what angels ought to look like.

“Got something to say, princess?” his eyes shot up and he gestured for you to unlatch your mouth.

“S-so pretty,” you whispered.

“What was that?” his ears perked up, not because he hadn’t heard you the first time, but because he could do with some affirmation himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… f-fuck—” a yelp punched its way out of your lungs as he folded you in half, pinning your thighs onto your stomach, and crawling onto the bed right after them.

He’d had enough of this little game.

“Good girls shouldn’t cuss like that. Six eyes didn’t teach ya that?”

Holding you down with one hand, he dived back into your pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a furious pace that had your upper body tossing and turning, the first unregulated moans ushering him to keep going. His tongue toyed with your swollen bud, the squelching of your cunt growing significantly louder from this angle, reverberating throughout the four walls of your bedroom. You were close, and so was he to getting his dick wet with all the mess he’d helped create.

His mouth watered just at the thought of his seed being the one to dribble down your thighs instead of his spit. He could picture you in one of those cute blue-navy skirts hanging from your closet and hoped you weren’t a tights person. He wanted to see you off to school every morning with your thighs sticking together so deliciously that anyone smart enough would understand how meticulously he’d fucked the brat out of you—

If only there was a mirror for you to see how stunning you looked. All fucked out and writhing, disheveled hair stuck on your tits and forehead while you nuzzled to the pillows, your shaky voice calling out to the surname he’d left behind. Would you still do that if you knew he played you like a fiddle? If you knew he was no esteemed Zen’in or sorcerer, for that matter, but a man hell-bent on ruining you for his own sick satisfaction?

Your body reciprocated his vile thoughts, your pussy fluttering around his digits. “Gonna cum for me?” he panted, forcing your legs to the side lest he missed a reaction.

Neither of you realized how his one hand had sneaked into his pants, stroking his veiny cock closer to the ecstasy he craved. Precum leaked hot out of the reddened tip, his thumb frantically swiping it over his length in sync with his thrusts. He’d stopped listening to your pleas and instructions. He fucked his fingers in you as he pleased, slowing down only when his balls began to dangerously tighten. Only then did he tear his fingers away ‘cause God forbid he busts his load in his palm like some fucking untouched teenager— regardless of how obscenely pretty you appeared for him or not.

Once he regained his composure, words made sense again. Harder. Faster. More. He hated being told what to do but absolutely loved how pliant you were. A people-pleaser, he bet. Going above and beyond what was asked of you, bending and breaking into whatever molds others force you to fit. He could work with that. Shape you into a mold only he could fit in.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how much prettier y’ can get.”

His cock twitched as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, your sweet face contorting with pleasure, lips swollen with how hard they’d tried to contain the last bits of debouched decency.

How cute.

He set your legs down and moved up to meet your face with his, a wave of genuine softness rushing over him as he thought to kiss your lips tenderly, hushing whatever emotion had you spasming. You were so sensitive. Even if you’d been with another guy before him, he doubted they knew what they were doing— not like he did, anyway. He’d make you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear what a dirty slut lived just next door from them.

After a short while of his stroking your hair and whispering filth into your ears, he decided he’d been good enough to get his trick. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, grinning like a little kid as your smaller palm traced the outline over his pants, knowing full well both hands would do nothing to cover his girth.

He’d really missed this— so much that he didn’t mind letting a grunt out in appreciation, certain that more would follow.

Your eyes met, the spark in them telling him you understood what he expected you to do, and even if you didn’t, he’d teach you. He’d teach you everything, snatch you from that piece of shit and make you into his star student, so long as you kept touching him and let him do all the things he’d spent the last thirty minutes fantasizing about.

Everything and anything, all for you to take—

The thoughts that failed to reach your ears along with all traces of the man whose weight alone -up until a moment ago- threatened to crush your body into a fine powder evaporated, the smooth sound of his voice replaced by the crude breaks of your father’s car as he pulled into the driveway— your mother’s kitten heels soon clicking atop every step they climbed.

Shit.

A/N: I actually intended for this to be a one-shot, but I guess it sort of ended on a cliffhanger so, oops. Lemme know if I should write a second and final part, or if you have any Toji ideas/requests ♡

#Toji x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji headcanons #jjk toji #toji scenarios #toji smut #toji fic #toji x you #toji x self insert #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[fuctacles]

What goes up, needs assistance coming down

For @steddiemicrofic "top" | 510 | G | no cw | established relationship | if you saw me post this earlier and delete it bc i pasted the wrong version, pretend you didn't | Ao3

Sometimes, when Eddie writes a particularly delicious twist in his campaign, he wonders how in hell he had repeated senior year two times.

But then this shit happens.

Because he's been in this exact situation before, and smart people are supposed to learn from their mistakes. Thankfully, Steve is supposed to get back from work any time now. Maybe he loves him too much to make fun of him. After Eddie bears the humiliation of calling out for him because there's no way he'll figure out Eddie's out here.

As soon as he hears the car pull in and the door slam closed, he yells out,

"Steve!"

The steps crunch on the gravel, rounding the house, and his worst nightmare comes true. Because he hears more than one pair of footsteps. Double humiliation it is.

"Eddie?"

Aaand that's Henderson. The last person he'd want to see right now.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks nonchalantly his favourite kid, who grins up at him.

"How about you tell me, huh?"

"Oh, because I'm on a tree?" Eddie scoffs at him. "Har har, Henderson, very clever."

His rescuer isn't looking very rescue-y either. He's just standing behind Dustin with a bemused expression, eyeing the ladder lying prone below the tree.

"Why?" is all he asks.

Eddie sighs and points to the coils of fairy lights he had dropped to the ground in his panic after the ladder fell.

"This so doesn't answer my question." Steve raises his eyebrows disapprovingly. "Henderson, put the groceries away, help yourself to the fridge. Your dads need to talk."

"Gross." Dustin makes a face but snatches the grocery bag from Steve. He turns back to Eddie while walking away. "Good luck!" He gives him a toothy grin. Eddie flips him off, but his eyes are focused on Steve, who's setting the ladder back up. Soon, they're at eye level, as Steve leans on the top of it.

"Why?" he asks again. "Why would you do that again?"

Eddie looks away, hoping Steve will postpone this interrogation until after his feet are back on the ground.

"I had this, okay? It's not as bad as the roof. If the ladder didn't fall—"

Suddenly, Steve's face appears in his periphery. His eyes are stern.

"You should have waited for me," he points out.

Eddie makes a face. Okay, here he goes.

"I wanted to surprise you. I saw how you liked the lights around the Wheelers' garden," he explains, hoping the heat over his cheeks is imaginary. Henderson was way too close for him to be humiliated like that.

Steve's face softens.

"Baby," he coos, leaning into his space.

"Please don't—"

Steve ignores him, landing a soft kiss on his lips.

"My sweet boy," he murmurs, and now Eddie's positive his face is red.

"Can you put me on the ground first, please?"

Steve gives him a boyish grin but helps him climb down the ladder without further teasing.

"Thank you—" he barely makes out before Steve's on him, peppering his face with kisses.

"The cutest metalhead in Indiana."

#steddie #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddie microfic may #steddie microfic #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #cj x steddiemicrofic

[talesofesther]

too close to the stars

Loki x Reader

Summary: Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, but a bit of a Christmas spirit might just change that.

A/N: I wish everyone a very happy Christmas. <3

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The sun peered over the horizon this morning only to shine over the white expanse of snow that covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound.

It had snowed pretty heavily over the night, and as Loki looked out his window, he couldn't help but think that the landscape was rather pleasant to look at—Thor had already made his way outside to shovel snow out of the driveway along with Steve, the once green fields were now a blanket of glistening white, as were the many trees around. The air was cold, but a pleasant kind of cold; it brought a feeling of calmness.

That is, until a rather sharp noise of something scratching the floor outside his bedroom disrupted Loki's peace.

Accepting that another day had begun, the god made his way outside onto the common area, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and putting on his slippers.

As soon as Loki rounded the corner to the spacious living room, his lips hung open in bewilderment and his brows furrowed in mild confusion.

You were standing on the very top of a ladder, stretching your body so you could reach the ceiling trims and lamps, all while holding an ungodly amount of ornaments, string lights, and garlands. It looked like a rather precarious arrangement and Loki found himself worrying for your safety for a moment.

"What on earth are you doing?" Loki asked, exasperated, frozen in place as he watched you.

The ladder wiggled in place when you quickly turned around to face him and Loki nearly bolted forward to catch you if you were to fall. He cursed under his breath when all you did was give him a cheeky smile.

"I'm decorating," you gestured around to the expanse of the living room, which already had most of its nooks and crannies filled with garlands, Santa Claus plushies, stockings, and the like.

Loki's frown only deepened, "We already have decorations." He pointed to the exaggerated Christmas tree that had been standing beside the TV since before the beginning of December. Honestly, he had yet to understand the humans' obsession with said holiday.

You chuckled, and the sound naturally brought the ghost of a smile to Loki's lips as well. "No, silly. I'm decorating for our little Christmas party tomorrow night, I thought the place looked a bit bare still." You winked at him and went back to work.

Loki shook his head, his heart swelling with affection. He was way past denying it already. Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, yet.

With a flick of his wrist, the living room erupted in a myriad of greens, golds, and reds. Each decoration you had on your arms—and more—magically took its rightful place in the walls and between furniture.

A breathless chuckle went past your lips, eyes glinting with amazement as you watched it all unfold. It was incredibly endearing, the way that, despite seeing so much of it, you never ceased to be enchanted by Loki's magic. He secretly took pride in it.

"That's convenient," you mumbled with a faint smile.

"Quite," Loki stated, taking a step closer, "Now please get down from there before you break something and have to spend your precious holiday in the med bay."

You skipped down the ladder as if gravity would bend to your will, were you to fall; the tilt of your lips ever present as you came to stand before Loki, much closer than what would be socially acceptable for ones who said they were merely friends. Yet Loki would never dare to complain. If anything, he held himself back from pulling you even closer.

"Do I detect a hint of worry, trickster?" You raised a brow at him. "Would you miss me if I didn't attend the party?"

Loki chuckled lowly, his smirk was teasing but his eyes avoided yours. "Darling, you're the only reason I'm even going to this party."

You bit your lower lip to keep the smile from getting any bigger, "Flatterer," you breathed.

And Loki loved you like this, all pink cheeks and bashful eyes, as if he had the same effect on you that you had on him. He hardly dared to dream of it. But he allowed himself to bask in these tiny moments by your side.

Then your pinkie hooked around his own, and Loki was putty in your hands.

"Come on, let's take a walk outside, enjoy the sun while it's out." You tugged him toward the elevator, not once letting go of his hand.

It was indeed very pleasant outside, the soft rays of sunlight were just enough to bring a bit of warmth along with the cold winter breeze, the air was fresh to breathe in, and the snowy landscape was beautiful.

Loki's boots crunched the snow and frozen grass underneath as he lazily walked beside you. He'd steal glances at you from time to time, watching as the sunlight shaped your serene profile and how you looked genuinely breathtaking amidst the white horizon. Everything felt perfect for a precious second and Loki wished he could slow down time.

His musing was suddenly interrupted, however, when he was hit in the back of his head with something mildly solid and very cold; causing an oof to escape his lips.

He whipped his head around in your direction only to see you muffling a giggle with one hand, while the other held a snowball.

A halfhearted scoff went past Loki's lips. He raised a hand to brush off the remaining snow from his hair, as a mischievous smirk painted his features, "You little minx, you have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."

A mix of a squeak and a chuckle fell past your lips the moment Loki bolted towards you and you naturally sped off in the opposite direction. You struggled to run amidst the rather thick snow and Loki took the advantage to bunch up a snowball of his own and hit you square in the back.

By the time you had made it back inside the Compound, you both had nearly run two full laps of the whole yard and were a mess of snow-covered clothes and breathless laughs.

"I.. win," you spoke in between deep breaths, one hand resting on Loki's chest to brace yourself.

"Absolutely not," Loki frowned as if you'd personally offended him. He took a deep breath himself, gesturing to your snowy clothes, "You're way worse off than I am."

"Uh uh, lies," you insisted. "I hit you way more than you hit me, your aim is shit," you chuckled.

Loki's smile followed yours naturally, he raised a hand to brush wild strands of your hair away from your eyes, his touch all delicate and soft. "You keep telling yourself that, love."

─── ·❆· ───

When the night of the celebration finally arrived, Loki found himself hesitating to get out of his room. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, slowly running a hand over the smooth fabric of his black suit. Did he like what he saw? The person staring back at him? Would you?

It was no secret that, despite accepting his presence, a few wary looks and comments still lingered between his teammates whenever he walked into a room. Loki couldn't blame them, not really. He also couldn't deny that those not-so-kind comments didn't get to him sometimes, much as he'd like to.

But then, there was you, who had never once made him feel unwelcome or unworthy. You who made him coffee in the mornings and always saved him a seat at the table. You who had a smile reserved for him ever since his first day here. You who made his heartbeat stumble and his silver tongue get caught in his mouth.

And Loki so desperately wanted to be someone deserving of all that. Still, he feared he wasn't.

A long sigh went past his lips. With a final tidying of his hair and the tie around his neck, Loki made his way out.

There was music playing in the common area. The several blinking lights you had so meticulously arranged were illuminating the room beautifully, reflecting against the many Christmas ornaments in warm shades of orange in the night. Tony, Thor, and Natasha were hanging out by the bar, with drinks in hand and loose smiles on their faces; Clint and Steve were sitting on the couch, laughing at something that Loki couldn't hear; Bucky and Sam were standing together by the Christmas tree, apparently trying to guess what was inside each present.

A few of their gazes turned as Loki stepped into the room, he could see as well as feel it, the weight resting in each one. He gave a polite smile and nod to no one in particular as his gaze skimmed around, looking for the reason he came. When he couldn't find you, he walked straight to the bar.

Loki leaned his elbows on the glass surface, closing his eyes and breathing in. There was a reason he wasn't overly fond of the team's social gatherings; he felt like an intruder, someone they were merely putting up with.

"Anything special?" Natasha's sultry voice made Loki look up. She stood behind the bar with an inquiring eyebrow raised at him.

"I'm afraid she's not here yet," Loki mumbled, which elicited a low chuckle from Natasha. The spy was a dear friend of yours and probably something close to it for Loki as well, one of the few people here who he knew didn't mind his presence.

"Actually," Natasha started, nodding towards the opening doors of the elevator, "I think she just arrived."

Loki turned around and his breath hitched. You stepped out of the elevator slowly, one hand smoothing out the fabric of your red dress—a gorgeous red dress that hugged your body and accentuated your curves to perfection. Your hair was up in a bun and there was golden jewelry highlighting your features.

The god was frozen in place, entranced by the beauty that was you. He'd never been so taken with anyone like he is with you. And when your eyes met, and a small, timid smile graced your glossy lips, Loki swore he could feel his heartbeat stumble.

You were about to make your way to him when Steve called your name and stole your attention. And then Bruce, and then Sam. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of you tonight.

Loki had a near-empty drink in hand when you finally managed to walk up to him.

You approached him with a smirk, leaning on the bar just beside him and raising a hand to gently tug on the lapel of his blazer. "Well, don't you clean up nicely, trickster?"

Loki hummed, leaning just a tad closer to you, "I'm not the one everyone is trying to get a hold of this evening." He said lowly, only for you to hear.

"Oh please," you chuckled, briefly avoiding his gaze. "I only have eyes for one person tonight."

A beat of silence passed, even if the room was anything but silent. Tony was going on about one of the many Christmas stories he shared every year, eliciting laughs from your teammates who by now had gathered all around the living room. From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed Bucky trying to straighten the star on the very top of the Christmas tree, the one the soldier himself had knocked over earlier.

You'd be mad, Loki thought. You'd be saying something about manners and being more careful, with a smile on your lips as you easily fixed the golden star yourself.

But instead, you were here; attention solely on Loki, in your little corner of the world as the chatter around you turned to nothing but muffled noise.

Why? He couldn't help but wonder. What could you possibly see on him?

"And who is this lucky gentleman?" Loki asked, his voice suddenly way too quiet as he kept his eyes trained on his half-empty glass, "Or lady?"

Only after you didn't answer, did Loki finally look up at you. There was a soft smile on your lips, painted with a feeling he couldn't name.

"That's a secret," you whispered back and took hold of Loki's glass of champagne, leaving it on top of the bar before closing your hand around his own instead. "Come on."

Loki followed easily, he allowed you to guide him to the balcony, where the cold wind was flowing and the warm lights from inside were nothing but a faded glow coming from the glass doors.

You didn't let go of Loki's hand when you stopped walking, only squeezed it once as you looked up at him with softly furrowed brows and an adorable tilt of your head. "What's wrong? You've been all tense ever since I walked in."

Of course you'd know. Of course you'd notice the stiffness of his shoulders and the guarded look in his eyes. If there was anyone who could read him like an open book, it was you.

A breathy chuckle fell past Loki's lips, he drank in the sight of you in the night; as wisps of your hair flew with the wind and as the light from inside outlined the shape of your features.

"You know it as well as I do that they don't want me here," Loki shot a pointed look at your teammates inside, not accusing, simply stating. "I don't… belong here…" Loki's fingers tangled with yours, his thumb gently brushing the skin of your hand, "With you." The words were nothing but a breath.

You raised your free hand to his face, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers before you gingerly traced his jaw. "But you do," you took half a step closer to him, your heels bumping his shoes, "You may think that you don't, but you do. I'd miss you greatly if you ever left."

Loki met your gaze again, his eyes a pool of sentiment, walls down and as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him. He leaned into your touch, all soft and pleading. "How could I ever deserve your kindness?" He spoke quietly, almost as if he never meant to say it out loud.

But you heard anyway, and your answer came in the same heartbeat. "You already do, always have." Your voice caught slightly in your throat, overwhelmed with the affection you felt for him.

The softest of smiles graced Loki's lips, the back of his eyes burned and his heart beat out of his chest, for you, for you, for you. He leaned in, biting the inside of his cheek and closing his eyes when you didn't pull away. His lips met your forehead in a lingering kiss, a promise of the thousand words he wished to say to you, of everything you made him feel that he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with something akin to adoration—maybe he could dare to call it love. Your eyes shining with a twinkle of expectation.

Loki squeezed your hand, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I couldn't break your silly tradition, now could I?" He shot a glance up.

You followed his gaze and finally saw it, a glimmer of green leaves with a small red trinket tying it together, delicately flowing in the wind as it hung by the door, pretty much on top of your head. A mistletoe.

You hummed, a small smirk coming to your lips as you settled back on Loki. "I don't remember putting it there." You raised a brow at him, standing so close you breathed the same air.

"And yet it's there anyway," Loki mumbled, lost in your orbit. His eyes darted down to your lips; it was a quick glance, all timid and boyish, but you caught it.

"So it is," you chuckled quietly, taking hold of the tie around his neck so you could pull him closer still, "And I wouldn't want to break tradition either."

You kissed him then, soft lips fitting with his own like a missing puzzle piece. A quiet gasp of surprise escaped Loki as soon as you closed the distance, yet you were quick to kiss it away, trapping his lower lip between yours and bringing one hand up to tangle in between his hair.

The taste, the feeling of you, put Loki's most beautiful dreams to shame. It's white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and the sip of champagne you had earlier.

The world around faded to nothingness as Loki's hand traced your spine and tugged you flush to him, his breath came in trembling puffs when you pulled away just the tiniest bit. His lips tingled as they brushed against yours again.

What a remarkable mortal you were, to have a god shivering beneath your touch. And selfishly, Loki wouldn't have it any other way.

You opened your eyes slowly, tongue running over your bottom lip as your thumb traced his jaw. You breathed in deeply to catch back the air he whisked out of you.

Loki watched the stars dancing in your eyes, looking down at you as if you were his universe, and delighting in the way you looked up at him as if he were yours. Maybe that's what love was all about.

Your hand trailed down his arm, brushing the fabric of his blazer until you tangled your fingers with his.

Squeezing your hand, Loki smiled. He felt like he belonged, right here by your side.

"Come on, before they open all the gifts without us," you winked, raising your free hand to clean the smudged lipstick by the corner of your mouth.

Loki followed you inside with his cheeks and heart feeling all warm. And if the mistletoe disappeared in a flash of green after you turned around, no one needed to know.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage @princess-ofthe-pages

@daisy-the-quake @talesofadragon @rainbowsocks @alexandra-001 @mary-jinx @stevenknightmarc @falconxsoldier @ladymercury8 @shirukitsune @ladymischief11 @starkzdaughter @navs-bhat @creat0r-cat @cinnamonbambii @anundyingfidelity @creationcitystreet-em @or-was-it-just-a-dream @agustdpeach @agent-tempest @spidermantaylorsversion @127djarin @imthedoctorlove @lokidokieokie @cookieeecutter @anuncalledbridge @awkwardnesshabitat

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

[realtalkswithfinn]

Christmas at the Compound

Avengers x reader

Summary: Avengers x reader Christmas head cannons because I am a sucker for the found family trope.

a/n: I tried to get this up before christmas but totally spaced it, so… tale it as a christmas morning gift! I tried to make it as age neutral as possible, so it could totally be teen!reader or not.

The holidays are a tough time for the Avengers.

Most of them have lost family members or friends, and the idea of celebrating anything is extremely difficult.

Tony especially - he always gets gloomy around the Holidays.

He always says something along the lines of, "I don't actually care about this, but its social convention."

But secretly he cares a lot.

He overcompensates for his lack of affection throughout the year by buying everyone the expensive gifts he knows they want but could never justify spending on themselves.

At surface level, it just seems like “oh rich guy is spending rich guy money���

But they’re actually really thoughtful gifts

Like last year, he got Peter a new laptop for school.

He bought Bucky new and thick clothes since all of his were old and worn.

He upgraded Clints cellular data so he could talk to his family anywhere.

Things like that.

Sam and Rhodey take one for the team and string the christmas lights on the tower

“It’s too cold for this.” Sam would complain, the sharp wind nipping at his cheeks as he flew from one end of the building to the other, lights in tow.

“Come one man, where’s your christmas spirit?” Rhodey would laugh

“I’m just doing this so stark’s power bill goes up.”

it really was worth it seeing the tower lit up top to bottom though

Wanda LIVES for commercialized American Christmas

"We have to make gingerbread houses and go to Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree and we have to go out to the snow and go sledding-"

She demands family Christmas photos be taken, even though you don't really have anyone to send them to.

This years theme was christmas pjs

Which lead to a few very interesting viral videos of the avengers in an Old Navy

“Tony come on the reindeer ones are cute!”

“Bruce. A man can not hold onto his masculinity while wearing pjs with dancing reindeer.”

Natasha gets tired of the bellyaching and bickering and makes the final decision

She grabs everyone’s size in the Reindeer pjs and marches to the front of the store

After snagging Tony’s credit card, of course.

Actually taking the picture is a whole other ball game, but that’s a story for another day

Thor has a hard time with the idea of Santa

You try to explain it to him, but it doesn’t seem to help

“So a fat man breaks into the safety of your home late into the night… and you let it happen because he comes baring gifts?”

“Well… yeah.”

“But only to nice children. That he stalks throughout the year.”

“He doesn’t stalk the children he just…”

“Hm.” He squints. “what about the naughty children?”

“They don’t get any presents.”

“OR,” Wanda interjects, “Krampus comes to get them.”

“Is that another fat man in a red disguise?”

“No. He’s a demon sent from hell to eat them.”

Thor nods in approval. “Ah. That’s much more asgardian. A fair reward system for the youth!”

You stare at him. “So… you’re okay with Krampus but not Santa?”

“Well I think they work together well, like a team. Like us!”

“I… I guess…”

Decorating the tree was an all night event

You would help happy bring up what felt like hundreds of boxes of christmas decorations

The tree itself was about 15 feet tall, because it wouldn’t be a holiday at the compound if you guys weren’t extra

It was placed in the living space, right next to a huge wall of windows so all of New York could see your festivity

it had to be decorated to the nines to pass Wanda’s inspection

Not a bare branch

Theres tinsel, ribbons, colorful lights, and hundreds of ornaments

But of course, ladders were a no go

You guys liked a challenge

To reach the higher branches, you and Natasha would stand on Steve and Buckys shoulders

And I mean stand

Not sit

It was a thrilling balancing game

You trusted them to catch you if you fell, but you still had to try to avoid it at all costs to save the tree from certain destruction

Peter would dangle from the ceiling, crawling around to hang ornaments toward the very top

Both of these acts nearly gave Bruce and Vision a heart attack

“CAP, you’re moving to fast shes gunna lose balance-“

“Bruce, please take a breath.”

Meanwhile Thor is getting distracted by all the ornaments and forgetting to actually hang them up

“This one’s a little man of snow! How silly!”

Speaking of ornaments

You all have an ornament of yourself on the tree

Or, your super hero alias at least

There’s a tiny black widow, a little iron man, a bity baby hulk, so on and so forth

Tony always demands his be the highest up on the tree to fuel his god complex

Drawing names out of a hat to see who got to put the star on top of the tree

(except you guys would always rig it behind Wanda’s back, only putting her name in the hat)

She would always protest, insisting to let someone else do it this year, but you guys never relented

So with a big cheesy grin on her face, she would use her magic to delicately place the star on the tippy top

You would think Natasha wouldn’t want to see the Nutcracker Ballet after her time in the red room

But it makes her so happy to see dancing as an art form instead of a way to brainwash young girls

She drags you, Clint, Wanda, and whoever else wants to tag along every year

She even splurges on front row seats

You look over and see her eyes glittering while she watches every turn, leap, and stunt intently

Leaving the theater, she’ll walk on her toes and do a few turns, encouraging you to try as well.

She ends up cackling watching you trip and stumble

“We’ll work on it.”

Can you IMAGINE the ginger bread making contest???

You’re all huddled around the long dining room table with christmas music playing

Theres Clint and Natasha, who just make the classic gingerbread house, no fancy bells or whistles.

Then there’s Bruce,Tony, and Peter who are going absolutely wild building gingerbread sky scrapers and gingerbread hotels.

“Mr. Stark look, I made a working elevator!”

Bruce puts an electric system (fairy lights) through his

Steve and Bucky rebuild their childhood homes

Wanda is going all out, delicately hand placing every candy and covering the whole thing in edible glitter

Visions is pretty similar, but more sleek and modern than Wanda’s

And then there’s Thor, who’s totally missing the point and just DUMPING everything on top

“Hey Peter, I think yours is missing something.”

You string a long thread of white rope candy from his structure to yours.

“Webs!”

“You know… we can probably make a web-like consistency with some starch and frosting…”

That becomes a whole sticky project, but you eventually get it to work, connecting everyone’s gingerbread houses with icing webs

Steve and Bucky are TOTALLY participating in the classic christmas traditions they grew up on.

They sit quietly together in the living room, making paper chains and stringing popcorn

“Do you mind if I join you guys?”

they smile gently. “Of course not.”

You sit crisscross in front of the couch while they teach you

They tell you stories of christmases long, long ago, which feels kinda silly considering they’re talking like grandpas while not appearing much older than you

On Christmas eve, you’re all there except for Clint, who went home to his family

Youre all dressed in your pajamas from the christmas card

You make hot coco and cider

Wanda pops in some old vhs tapes and you watch the classics late into the night

“Alright you nutcrackers,” tony would say around midnight. “I know you want to stay up and catch Santa, but he’s not coming if you all stay awake.”

he really just wanted to go to bed

He sauntered off, calling for lights out.

Most of the boys wandered away to their rooms, leaving you, Wanda, Nat and Thor not quite ready for sleep.

“So,” you ask, taking a sip of coco, “Do you guys think we’re on the naughty list?”

Natasha Chuckled. “I’m not sure. Does beating people up count as naughty if you’re taking down the bad guys?”

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table, the bells on his sweater jingling. “Do not fear ladies, I will catch that nasty Krampus if he comes in to devour your soul. I believe you were doing the right thing.”

You all laughed, thinking he was joking. But he just stared at you.

“Thor… you realize Krampus and Santa aren’t… real?” Wanda asked.

He had a hard time swallowing that.

He ended up sleeping on the couch “just in case”

you woke up at 3 am to a loud clattering coming from the living room

You decided to check it out against your better judgement

There was Thor. Hammer in one hand, cookie in another.

Down the hall toward the elevator was a completely destroyed life-size nutcracker.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought I heard something by the elevator.”

“Congratulations. You murdered the Nutcracker.”

“I feared he was an accomplice of the holiday demon.”

“He’s been there for weeks!”

“He could have been a spy. Or possessed.”

“Goodnight Thor.”

Christmas Morning finally arrived

Everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds

Until Sam decided to be a little shit and wake everyone up at 7 am

He pounded on every. single. bedroom door.

“Y/NNNN. SANTA CAME TO TOWNNNNN.” he sing-songed

“No he didn’t.” You grumbled. “Thor killed him.”

“… I don’t know what that means.”

You all stumble out into the living room

Natasha took the time to actually run a brush through her hair and do her morning skincare

You and wanda were far too excited and skipped over that completely, barely remembering to brush your teeth

Tony looked the roughest - he had a silk robe draped over his pjs and looked like he was just awakened from a coma

Essentially, everyone was a little disheveled

Vision made everyone coffee before you started the gift exchange

You all sat around the coffee table in a circle so everyone could see each other

Bruce and Steve passed out the gifts from under the tree

it took a solid few minutes, there was a MOUNTAIN of presents

You went one at a time opening gifts

Some people think this is awkward, but you felt it was more genuine

this way, everyone can see the gift and the joy on the receivers face

as well as a million “thank you”s

It also gave time for the giver to explain why they chose the gift they did, whether it be something they remembered you said you wanted, something they knew you needed, or even just a simple “this made me think of you”

In the end, you loved all your gifts

And everyone loved what you got for them

But mostly, you were just happy to spend the holiday with your family

#domestic avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x stark!reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic #avengers headcanon #tony x daughter!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #avenger!reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel headcanons #marvel fanfiction #platonic!avengers x reader #platonic avengers x reader #platonic avengers

[kyufessions]

sweetheart

synopsis: your annoying neighbor bothers you yet again

pairings: neighbor! eric x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

request: “open your mouth” + “why so shy?”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: spitting, oral (f. receiving), making out, playful teasing, pet name (sweet heart), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i’m writing this half asleep so it’s not proofread whatsoever,, oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

Only if everyone knew. Only if everyone knew that the boy next door you always swore annoyed you to your very core since you had first moved in over ten years ago, would meet you in your old tree house that stood between both of your houses at ungodly hours. With what started as another night wanting to get away from one of your family’s parties, turned into heated makeout sessions that led to what anyone would imagine.

Throughout the years, your father had been kind enough to re-do the treehouse. Seeing as you still adored it, he re-vamped it to make it seem more private and to your liking since you were now in your early 20’s. There was even a small makeshift door and small windows with curtains that you often kept closed- it was your favorite place to get away from madness when your room wasn’t cutting it. That was- until one spring night.

You had been in your treehouse reading a new novel you had bought at your local barnes and nobles, your lamp on and one of curtains slightly open to enjoy the slight breeze. Tonight your parents had some guests over from work, their conversations and jazzy background music being too loud for your liking. So you quietly made your way to your treehouse and enjoying your time alone until you heard some rocks being thrown at the door. Groaning, you ignored the disturbance. You knew exactly who it was and you did not want to deal with him tonight. One more rock, two, even three more were thrown. Thats when you stood up and fully opened up the half drawn curtain, looking down to see the annoying boy next door.

He stood there with his devilish grin, wearing a white tank and his baseball varsity jacket from the college he attended. He waved hello as soon as he saw you looking down at him, catching a glimpse of you from the limited lighting. “What do you want eric?” you shouted down, making sure your voice was only able to be heard between you both and not to disrupt what was happening inside your home.

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “I’m bored.” as you rolled your eyes and started to pull back down the curtain, he yelled back out to you. “Wait!”

You shushed him right away, his voice too loud for your liking. As you motion for him to come up the wooden ladder, he does as instructed and you watch as he climbs up halfway before you stop him with your words. “What do you want?” you ask again, annoyance stringing through your voice.

His lips form another shit eating grin. “I’m bored and saw the light on.”

“Find someone else to bother.” you start to close the door but see his hand stop it from closing.

Before you can begin to speak up again, eric decides to first. “Come on, i’ll stay in the corner and let you do your own thing. I won’t bother you. I just don’t want to be in my house right now and am grounded from using my car.”

“Is no an option?” you ask him with a puff. With a swift shake of his head, you open the door fully and allow him inside.

He looks around in amazement at the fairy lights and overall set up, noticing how you plop back on the mini couch you have set up in the corner. His eyes scan over a small drawer with a chipped paint job, old drawings and paintings hanging throughout that’s barely holding on with tape and some nails. There are some obvious new items hanging about and some older ones, and he quietly takes note of that as he walks around to inspect. As he does so, you occasionally glance at him to make sure hes not touching anything he isn’t supposed to. After a little more snooping, he takes a seat on the floor and starts aimlessly scrolling through his phone while you continue to read your novel.

Minutes pass in pure silence- nothing but the occasional hoot from a faraway owl and the distanced sound of jazz music from your home below. That was, until eric opened tiktok. His volume was louder than necessary, his laughter echoing in your ears. You try to continue your reading, trying to be the nice guy. But it felt as if each tiktok he watched just made him laugh harder than the last. You make a mental note of the page you stop on before closing your book and looking over at him, your face blank with irritation.

“If you’re going to be in here, can you at least quiet down? I’m trying to read my book.” your eyes finally meet and he just chuckles, getting up off the floor and walking over towards you.

“What’re you reading anyway?”

You clear your throat before speaking as he inches closer, trying to keep your book close to hide it from him. “None of your business, just please keep it down.”

Eric notices you trying to keep the book from him and as he steps closer he tries reaching for it but failing as you hold it closer to you. He scoffs, trying to reach for it again. “Why so shy about it, huh?” his tone is playful, his eyes beaming with curiosity as he tries to sneak a peek of the cover. You try moving your body to hide it from him but as you’re squirming, he snatches up the book and examines the cover. A small laugh leaves his lips as he notices the explicit cover, your face turning a slight shade of pink as he then reads the first page that started off juicy. When he looks down at you, your cheeks are now red and your eyes wide. “This is the shit you read?”

You stand up and grab the book back from his hands, or at least attempt to before he raises it above your head with a smirk. The height difference between you both wasn’t much, but the fact he was also wearing grey sweats right now didn’t really help the burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. To say eric was ugly would be the biggest lie- you actually found him quite attractive. He was just annoying and pestered you often, but he was quite handsome. As his hand was held above you, your book in his hand, you can notice his peaking bicep from under his varsity jacket.

Your silence and wandering eyes failed you as eric took note of this. “Checking me out, huh?”

As you're snapped out of your daze by his words, you jump up and grab the book from his hand successfully and try to move around him to leave but fail. Although your treehouse is spacious, it’s not the biggest either. So now you’re backed into a corner by the hot annoying neighbor who just found out you read smut. Cool. you just sit down on the small couch, puffing in annoyance in an attempt to hide how flustered you’ve become.

“No i’m not.”

His index and middle finger tap the right side of your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your red cheeks say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Normally you'd swat away his hand, but as you looked in his eyes you felt the air catch in your throat. You felt as if time had stopped due to the close proximity you both were in. the little nickname that normally bothered you made your stomach churn with butterflies, your hands gripping your book tighter.

you tried to hide it once more, trying to keep your tone high and mighty. “don’t call me sweetheart.”

“then try to act like you don’t like it and maybe i will.” eric then squats so he’s now eye level with you, his fingers tracing from your cheek all the way down your neck and to your shoulder ever so gracefully as he does so. your eyes just watch him, unsure of what this feeling is that’s come over you. his head tilts, his face amused by this. “does mommy and daddy know you read smut all up here by yourself?”

eric had always seen you as this goody-two-shoes; mommy and daddy’s most prized possession who always got fantastic grades and went to one of the best colleges the states had to offer. throughout the past ten years, he had always seen you achieve the highest possible grades with honors just to seek your parents approval. never brought over a guy, your nose always buried in a book whether it be for your studies or for fun. he also noticed how your hair never failed to be done perfectly, different colored bows or hair accessories to match your dress or skirt. you always had to present the world with this perfect image of you, and he was just so curious to get to know you deeper than this facade you try to sell everyone you come across.

he watches you shake your head, no words being spoken as you seem choked up. your eyes sparkle under the dimly lit fairy lights as they glare at him, causing him to chuckle lowly yet again. “what if they found out?”

“don’t you fucking dare eric sohn-“

“ah ah,” he slips the book from your hands, placing it beside you. “why don’t we put page one to the test?”

your eyes widen, eyebrows raising. “e-excuse me?”

eric slips off his varsity jacket, tossing it on top of your book. “i skimmed the page over. doesn’t ellen get eaten out, or am i mistaken?” you’re left speechless, yet your face continues to redden all over. eric has thought about this for years but never thought this day would come, only in his wildest of dreams.

eric stands up a little bit to hover over you, lifting your chin and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. his hair is messy, probably from the baseball practice he had earlier in the day. your lips are inches from his, yet not a word can be spoken as you’re just in shock.

“all you have to do is tell me to stop and i will.” is all eric whispers before placing his lips on yours.

both of your lips move in sync with one another, his fitting perfectly on yours. his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, his entire palm cupping it and his fingers placing themselves on the nape of your neck. his touch sends shivers down your spine, his fingertips delicate and careful. his other hand moves to your left thigh, starting to spread it apart from your right one. but you don’t stop him, something within you tells you to allow him. as he bites down on your bottom lip, his hand on your thigh travels to the inner part and stops near your panties. his fingertips graze your folds, the lace material feeling good against his skin.

the sound of your whimper against his lips makes his blood rush, separating his lips from yours. for a few moments he just stares down at you, taking in the view of your wide innocent eyes and puffy pink lips. “fuck you’re so pretty, you know that?”

eric then gets on his knees in front of you, and you watch as he slips off your white silk pleated skirt and stare at your pussy in awe. “all wet for me already, sweetheart?” you bite your lower lip as you watch him, arching your back against the wall at the nickname.

his fingers push the fabric aside, the fingertips grading your folds ever so slightly to take in the beauty for a second. he grins up at you before slipping in one finger, earning a gasp from you. eric starts slow, pumping in and out of you teasingly. he just stares up at you the whole time, taking in the beauty of your reactions. he watches your hand involuntarily reach for his hair, tugging on it once he picks up the pace out of satisfaction. you let out quiet moans as he slips in a second finger, not wanting anyone to potentially hear anything happening up in the treehouse.

after a few moments of his second finger, he puts his mouth to your clit. with this sudden movement you throw your head back, starting to grind against his face. eric takes in every movement you make, enjoying how you use him for your advantage to release. his fingers continue pumping in and out of you at a consistent pace, his tongue occasionally moving in and out of your hole as his lips continue to satisfy you. as your breathing pattern picks up and your legs begin shaking, he knew it was only a few seconds before you climaxed.

once you did, you let out a loud moan and eric took in every juice you offered to him. he begins licking you up, cleaning you up the only way he’s currently able to. he then leans up, grabbing you by the cheek and staring down at your tired face.

“open your mouth, baby.” he murmurs. you do as instructed, allowing him to spit in your mouth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes, smirking as you take in the taste he offers you.

and that’s the night where it all started, your friends with benefits relationship with your annoying neighbor.

#kyufessions the boyz #the boyz #the boyz eric #eric sohn #tbz eric #tbz smut #the boyz smut #eric smut #eric sohn smut #🌙 completed requests

[semisolidmind]

i know it's all about the lion's den AU rn and as usual I am FEASTING on the content (excuse the crumbs) but there's an idea that won't leave me alone-

what if Peaches was not human, but an immortal from the beginning? How much would change? I know the whole appeal of these AUs - I mean, that's why I love them and I absolutely love this lil corner of the fandom. but I've been kinda diving into the whole immortality biz in Chinese myths for my oc, so now I'm curious.

Peaches could be someone cultivating and practicing Xian (i hope I'm using that right) for years, or consumed pills/elixir of immortality somehow, or a demon who is oddly very kind and empathetic - would the bois still love her just as much? How different is the dynamic now even if Peaches retains her core personality traits?

love your work! and hydrate before ya diedrate

ive been thinking about this, and i kinda like the idea of immortal reader being an attendant of the heavenly peach orchard.

not super high up the ladder, but not at the bottom either. her powers are limited to helping plants grow just a little bit, creating temporary barriers, and being able to float the way all celestials can. the higher-ups figure that since no one is bold or stupid enough to steal from heaven, they don’t need any extra security in the immortal peach groves.

you can take a guess as to how reader meets the monkeys.

they show up to the orchards, ready to fight their way to the peaches, but instead of some overpowered celestial soldiers guarding the orchard, it's....one immortal maiden. just the one. but she doesn't seem all that powerful, soooooo...

...maybe she'd agree to let them take a few without too much trouble?

the monkey bros go the "oh don't mind us we're just a couple of cute lil monkeys, here to cause adorable and harmless mischief" route in their approach to getting reader to let her gaurd down.

they approach her while she takes a break from pruning some dead branches. she's understandably surprised and suspicious about these two seemingly normal monkeys who've snuck in, but... they are pretty cute. and tame; they let her pet them and give them scritches. perhaps they're one of the heavenly official's pets. reader supposes that they can stay for a while.

wukong and macaque play their parts, get reader's guard down, and steal a couple dozen peaches each. reader notices, but there's not much she can do beyond shooing the monkeys out with a broom (and her soft heart barely allows her to do that). she knows that if she reports it, those cute lil monkeys will be hunted down and killed.

she supposes she could put in a request for higher walls around the grove, or more barriers (she still wonders how the boys managed to get through the first ones), but with how slowly things get done in the bureaucracy...it'd be a very, very long time until it was even brought up in court.

besides, even then....they're monkeys. animals. she won't place blame on them for being what they are. those little cuties probably had no idea that the immortal peaches were any different from the ones on earth.

she could never stay mad at their adorable lil faces anyways.

---

reader, despite what you might think, has a pretty laid back job. once all her chores for the day have been completed (those magic trees don't really need much beyond the essentials to do their thing), she has a good amount of free time to sit and, you guessed it—read.

macaque (because of course, he has to be the first one to fall in every au) decides, on a bored whim, to go visit that nice attendant they stole from not too long ago. perhaps he'll collect some intel while he's up there.

he finds her after a bit of searching. reader sits in a secluded corner of the grove, leisurely turning pages and enjoying the shade. macaque, still disguised, sidles up to her. reader notices, seeming surprised to see him before her face morphs into... a rather adorable pout. perhaps she thinks she's being intimidating.

'damn, no wonder the bureaucracy didn't think they needed any more security,' macaque thinks sarcastically. such a fearsome maiden they've chosen to guard the immortal peaches.

while reader takes a minute to admonish him about stealing, it isn't long before she sighs and gives up on her lecture in favor of scratching him gently behind his ears. he churrs low in his chest. her whole demeanor is as soft and sweet as the peaches she guards (her hands as well, he notes, pressing into them).

macaque laughs internally. a fearsome maiden, indeed.

macaque manages to wiggle his way into reader's lap, pulling her attention from her book. she knows she should be trying to scare him off, but...just—just look at him! he's so cute, and she's too pulled in by how cute he is to notice the oddly powerful aura he seems to exude (far too powerful to be a normal monkey). he enjoys her touch for a while longer before he hears the far-off call of his annoying brother, wondering where he is. he bumps his head into reader's hand by way of goodbye before running off to shadow away more secretively.

reader watches him go, sighing. she really should shoo him away next time.

---

macaque keeps coming back. and reader continues to be unable to kick him out.

with very few visitors and no one else to talk to, reader begins to tell him everything that she overhears during the day; the officials don't think anyone is listening when they air out their gossip as they walk by the orchard. she doesn’t know it, but she’s saving macaque the energy of using his powers to gather this intel on his own.

the six-eared demon makes a habit of showing up to the grove to laze around with his favorite maiden and listen to her read, using “spying” as the excuse he gives his brother for why he's been running off so often. reader seems to have accepted that he won't be leaving her alone any time soon, and he takes full advantage. macaque comes to think of reader and the secluded corner of the grove as his own little peice of heaven.

of course, sooner or later, wukong joins in. he's a bit angry that macaque didn't just say he was visiting the peach orchard and it's attendant; he wouldn't have minded, he would've come with! macaque doesn't bother trying to explain that he didn't want to share.

but share he does, seeing as wukong greedily takes all the attention from reader he can get. the monkey king finds himself enamored with the maiden who's hands and heart are as soft as the fruits she tends to. he won't admit it (it may hurt his carefully crafted "ruthless demon king" image if he did), but wukong is a cuddle bug when it comes to reader. everything about her is just so soft, and she's so kind, and she always smells like peaches—he could spend hours laying on her chest as she reads.

he just feels so...peaceful, with her.

the boys are entangled in reader's life, visiting whenever they can and butting into whatever she happens to be doing. they see her day to day happiness (brief conversations with the lower maids she's friends with), and her struggles (the two monkeys bore witness to the officials taking their anger out on reader over something trivial, their rage towards heaven growing stronger). the two grow more and more attached to her as time goes on.

and so they begin to work a small abduction into the grander scheme of their plan.

---

sooner or later, the monkey warlords properly raid heaven. they and their demon army storm the jade palace, murdering servants, footsoldiers, and as many officials as they can. the monkey king and the six-eared macaque lead a massacre so bloody it stains the palace walls red. wukong especially holds back none of his rage, getting caught up in his hatred for heaven and zealously continuing to shed as much celestial blood as he can.

during a lull in the chaos, macaque, covered in vicera, makes his way to the immortal peach grove. with the battle coming to a close and the demon forces being driven back, now is as good a time as ever to snatch up a special “peach” for himself and his brother.

he finds said peach preoccupied with a gallant attempt at protecting herself and a few lower maids from a demon soldier, using a series of barriers. the soldier breaks the barriers almost as fast as reader can make them, rapidly pushing her and her companions into a corner. reader puts up a brave fight, but she's a celestial attendant, not a celestial warrior.

macaque calls out to the soldier, halting their attack and telling them to regroup with the others and prepare to move out. the soldier complies, crassly assuring the women that they’re about to be nothing more than bloody pulp on the garden wall. no one has ever gone against the shadow general of the demon army and lived.

macaque waits until the soldier is out of sight before leisurely approaching the still quivering group of maids and their determined, but exhausted looking guard. reader tenses as he steps closer. she feels a horrible sense of dread crawl down her spine when she gets a good look at him.

the dark fur, the shape of the mask marking on his face...reader feels tears start to bead at the corners of her eyes.

this entire time, she'd been petting and coddling the six-eared macaque. the second in command of the dreaded demon army has been sitting right in front of her and she had no idea. reader can barely keep her breathing steady.

and if this is her dark-furred companion, then the lighter-furred one must be…oh stars.

…she let the monkey king in.

she practically threw open the doors for him. she didn’t report them when she should have, she knew there was something strange about them but she was so sure they were just normal animals—oh stars above, if the jade emperor ever discovered this, she’d be executed.

but…but reader steels herself. she can deal with that later. her friends are counting on her.

now, she’s certainly not expecting the blood-covered demon general across from her to be open to bargaining (he could just kill all of them now, but reader gets the feeling he wouldn't be merciful enough to end it quickly). and he knows exactly what leverage he has over her, she can see it in the smug look on his face.

but she tries anyways.

“let them go, please,” she begs breathlessly, arms shaking from the strain of maintaining her magic. the least she can do is buy her friends a moment more. “do whatever you want with me, but they are blameless.”

macaque chuckles, the sound reverberating lowly between the trees. whatever he wants, huh? oh, sweet peach. she should know better than to give him so much leeway.

“that is tempting. if that’s the case, then perhaps you’ll go with me willingly,” he muses, tail swaying slowly. his fangs glint dangerously when he smirks.

“don’t fight, and no harm will come to them. that, and your secret will be safe with me. honest."

reader doesn’t believe him. she can’t, but she and her friends are so low priority that calling for help would be useless. if the demon army has been as effective as the screaming would lead her to believe, the celestial host has much bigger problems than rescuing a gardener and some lowly maidservants. and with the chance that she’ll be seen through and blamed for every gory death that's happened beyond the walls of the peach groves...

she doesn’t have a choice.

reader slowly, cautiously lowers her barriers, despite the worried cries of the maids behind her. they cower closer together as reader takes a slow step closer to macaque.

with a flick of his wrist, reader is struck by a sleeping spell so potent she falls into macaque's waiting arms like a lead weight. the demon gathers his beloved into his hold with a gentleness that doesn't fit his gory visage.

he sinks into a shadow, leaving the maids to clutch each other and cry at the loss of reader and the near loss of their own lives.

---

reader wakes up days later in the royal bedchambers of the stone palace. she startles at seeing the monkey king and the six-eared macaque laying on either side of her, stripped to just a loose pair of pants each. she herself has been changed to a comfortable silk robe, her own clothing nowhere to be seen.

reader feels a cold sludge in her gut. she scrambles out of the pillow pit, kicking a few into the face of one of her captors as she goes. she checks herself over, looking for bite marks, claw marks, anything to indicate the two demons sharing a bed with her had violated her in any way. she looks, and breathes a heavy sigh.

she finds nothing.

"we figured we'd wait until you were awake to start marking territory," the tired, yet still somehow smug voice of the monkey king chimes from behind her. reader turns to see the demon leveling an amorous look her way. his gold and crimson eyes burn like fire in the low light.

reader ignores him in favor of falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands. now that she has a moment to think, her failure has decided to take centerstage; she was the one who let the monkey king into the jade palace, she let him steal the immortal peaches, she's the one who carelessly shared all the gossip that told them when the best time to attack would be, she's to blame for all the lives lost—

"hey. y'know we would've raided heaven even if we hadn't met you, right? it's not your fault," macaque says, propping his head in his hand to look at her. he doesn't have the decency to hide how he's sizing her up, poison purple eyes glowing whilst tracing her curves. reader shrinks into herself a bit more.

"yep. don't feel too bad, peaches. i was never gonna spare any of those bureaucrats in the first place," wukong adds. "and besides, none of those guys cared about you anyway, so why feel bad?"

reader sobs, pressing her hands to her eyes. she knows. she knows how callous the officials could be, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die. it doesn't mean the servants and foot soldiers who were only following orders deserved their fates.

she hears movement, then feels a set of strong, furred arms wrap around her. wukong rests his head on her shoulder. he nuzzles his nose against her neck. she feels his warm breath and the glance of deadly sharp fangs when he speaks.

"they didn't deserve the mercy you seem to think they did."

---

wukong places a seal on reader's powers. what little defense she had against them is gone with the placement of a brand-like marking in between her shoulder blades (and a few more along her shoulders made with his teeth).

reader can't do anything. wukong won't let her leave, and even if she could, the heavenly court will have her executed if she goes back. so, she remains on the monkey king's mountain.

she didn't think she'd share a fate with the precious fruit she'd failed to protect.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au #immortal peach au #i guess??? cause shes an immortal??? #this got waaay longer than expected #got tired and couldnt figure out how to end it #dialogue is hard

[baitsharklton]

Finn Mertens x F! Reader; Line Without A Hook

In honor of the new Fiona and Cake show dropping! This is probably really dumb and lame but, I can only try.

—

Y/n giggled profusely, her insides feeling set ablaze since Finn had grabbed her hand and took off into the treehouse the second he opened the door, pulling her body flush to his.

He lifted her, arms held to her gum sides as he started to spin her relishing in the sound of her laughter.

“Y/N!” He screamed, a smile on his face so wide, his face was sure to hurt. He couldn’t help it, after all, he hadn’t seen his friend in a week.

Y/n replied with a scream of his name, her giggling increasing, though deep down, she knew how this was going to go. It was always the same after all.

He’d call her over when no one else was there, they’d watch movies, cuddle, she’d play with his hair, sometimes if he was feeling ever so bold, he’d offer to rub her back and relieve the sore muscles.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why he was so keen to get close to her, she was Y/n Bubblegum, the sister of her crush’s crush.

Yet while Finn swears that he doesn’t simply want to be around her because it could make him closer to P.B, or that he cares about Y/n and isn’t simply relying on her for emotional comfort the blonde boy would sometimes grab her hand, or cuddle her when they’re alone, close his eyes and just for a moment, a simple second, imagine it was P.B, but that was all, according to him at least.

That’s not who he is, he’s Finn Mertens, he’s a hero.

Sure, sometimes there would be a pang of guilt in his chest, or a fire would flicker in his stomach when she gave him a sweet smile.

However, Y/n was his friend, and as cool as she is, she’s just not P.B.

Y/n quickly peaked around for Jake, assuring herself of what side of Finn she was seeing, before she continued her mild ministering of affection.

“So, Jake is at Lady’s?” She mused with a raised brow “Only asking for me with an empty tree, Mertens ? Do you need a cuddle sesh ?”

Finn rolled his eyes with, a now sarcastic, smile. “I was just away in a dungeon crawl for a week, am I not allowed a cuddle sesh ?”

Another laugh slipped through her lips and the gum-girl fell back on the couch and pat her tummy, signaling for him to follow suit.

Finn fell onto her and cuddled against her, and she began to slowly caress his back to soothe him.

“Why am I never allowed to be affectionate with you when people are around?” Y/n hummed slowly, she wasn’t sure why she asked, she wasn’t even sure why she allowed herself to give in and show him this kind of affection.

She knew how he felt about her sister, was even there when he met and broke up with Flame Princess. Y/n remembered how she felt when they were younger and Bonnie herself had turned young.

Watching Finn fall further in love with her sister, and pull himself away from her. The way it felt to watch him fawn over Bonnie. The ripping burning pain in her chest as she sobbed, as it felt like her body could barely contain it.

The way she smiled and excused herself from playing her favorite video game on BMO in the treehouse, and barely made it halfway down the ladder before sobs began to try and escape.

She remembered taking off down the hill with bare feet, falling to her knees and finally letting it all out.

Jake had comforted her that day. He wrapped her in a squoze, and mumbled to her how wonderful she was, and that if Finn can’t see that he’s banana bonkers.



She remembered how hard it was to get over him, how she found solace in Braco, a suitor for her sister who took his father’s place in line when he passed.

Bonnie had called her into her lab and told her the situation, she asked Y/n to help him find joy in other things.

Y/n remembered the way they ran through the kindgdom, trying different food spots, how he made some small jokes when he was comfortable and made her laugh.

They ran throughout the kingdom even during the night, when she took him away to her favorite cliff, how they laid in the grass and watched the stars.

How he looked at her.

“Y/n,” he had mumbled “you’re very different from the princess.”

She had furrowed her brows in confusion “Is that bad? I’m sorry if I disappointed you.” She whispered, feeling ashamed momentarily, yet for the millionth time, less than her sister.

Branco’s face lit up in realization and he sat up on his elbow, looking at her in amazement “Are you serious? No! Y/n you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, your sister would have never even given me a chance, yet you came and showed me the kingdoms wonders, you never even gave up on me when I was being mega lame.”

Branco sat up, then helped Y/n sit up, taking her hands gingerly. “Y/n Bubblegum, you are absolutely wonderful, and if anyone can’t see that they are banana bonkers.”

Y/n couldn’t help it, she found this man absolute wonderful. Without a second thought, she had leaned forward and kissed him.

Later on, about two weeks later, he had left her.

For a clone of her sister.

It was Finn who had comforted her, who had told her she was wonderful. That was how they wound up in their current situation. He would allow her to be as affectionate as she wanted with him, only if they were alone.

Finn looked up at her, pulling off his hat and lightly scratching his scalp. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Finn,” The way he was looking at her, it felt scrutinizing, it made her feel self conscious. She hated it.

She used her arms to slide herself back, she hugged her legs to herself, she tucked her face to her legs. “Ugh, I just,”

“What?” Finn was starting to feel confused, he just wanted a cuddle sesh.

“Finn do you know what it’s like for me when you leave ? When you were crying over PB? When you sang a song for her?” Y/n stood up now, hands raking through her hair, she couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Y/n?” He mumbled, he wasn’t sure where this was going, but his face felt flushed.

“Did you know I got melted for you? You were crying over Bonnie and fawning over your new love interest and I got melted because I wanted to protect you! Then I get over you and you just pull me back, then when you’re in love again you just forget me!” Y/n began to cry slightly “Then you leave and I’m alone again, hoping you’ll just notice me.”

Finn frowned “I didn’t know you felt this way, I’m sorry Y/n, you’re wonderful and all it’s just, I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and furrowed his brows trying to think of the way to describe it. “You and Bonnie are just, I don’t know, different.”

Y/n froze, staring at him, her eyes locking on Finn for a moment. “What?”

Finn’s eyes went wide “But that’s not bad, it’s good, I don’t mean,”

“No, no. I get it. She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s in control. I’m not, I’m just the little sister, right ?” Y/n smiled, wiping her eyes. Why cry? What was she expecting? A love confession? She’s not smart, but she’s smart enough to know better.

Finn stood up to stop her as she walked towards the ladder “No, Y/n that’s not what I meant, you’re not, not those things it’s just, I don’t know you’re just not enough of those things I guess?”

“Finn just, please, leave me alone. I get it, you never liked me, you just liked my affection, right?” Y/n mused, climbing down and brushing past him and taking off toward the door, stopping for a moment.

She felt like a burden, like someone who had told herself that he has to like her, right ? He was showing her this attention, but maybe she was overthinking it. She was just delusional. She was nothing like her sister, or like Phoebe, she wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t badass, sure she swung a mean hammer, but she was nothing at all compared to the two women.

But she also didn’t want to let go of Jake and BMO yet, as much as she wanted to push Finn away.

“I’ll see you around Mertens.”

That night Finn had a dream with the Cosmic Owl. He was with Y/n on a ship, they were laughing and talking at first.

Then he felt her hand on his face, gently tracing it, and she leaned in to kiss him.

He panicked and spouted out some nonsense he could barely understand, something along the lines of “You’re not Bubblegum, you’re nothing at all like her.”

His words turned into ropes, wrapping around Y/n, restraining her, finally he said “You’re just not enough.”

Then, with that, she fell into the ocean, drowning in the icy blue water.

Finn was stuck

I’m place, watching her form sink lower until it was out of sight, he tried to break free, to scream for her, but it was useless, and no words would come out.

The Cosmic Owl Perched on the side of the boat, staring at him.

Finn looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging for help, any help, something so that he could pull Y/n from her fate, even if it wasn’t real.

But the Owl simply hummed a “Was it worth it ?” Before he flew away, leaving Finn stuck.

He hadn’t seen Y/n for weeks, but BMO and Jake visited her regularly, and would frequently talk about their hangouts.

It was killing him, to hear a joke she told and wish he could hear her laughing at her own joke, he wished he could be there to see the amazing trick with her hammer Jake would awe over, to watch the little dance she does when she beats a difficult level on BMO.

He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t think, and his chest hurt painfully as he thought of the words he couldn’t take back, the words he didn’t mean.

Finn had been away from her before, and it never had hurt him so much.

“It’s because you always knew she was going to be waiting for you man. You gotta face it Finn, you bit this one pretty big. I mean, she was crazy about you bro.” Jake had hummed as he cooked, glancing back at Finn for a moment.

“If I were her, you’d have been six feet under.” BMO had hummed, crossing his arms at Finn with a firm, disappointed look.

“I know, I know, I donked it, I totally donked it. It’s just, ever since I said it, she’s all I think about, it’s like,” he pulled his face up from the table and leaned his head on his hand in thought “it’s like we’re magnets, and I can feel her pull, but we’re just enough out of reach to connect.”

Jake made a small sound of understanding “Sounds like you like her cause you don’t have her anymore.”

Finn groaned in disagreement “No, no. I just, I think I was taking her for granted, I mean, she was my best friend, and I mean, she’s beautiful, and she’s really math, and she’s sweet and,” he sighed again, letting his head fall back to the table “and I think I really like her and donked it.”

Jake snorted softly “Finn, I love you brother but you gotta sort this junk out before you talk to her, otherwise none of us will ever see her again.”

Finn made a sound of distaste “Jake, the more I think about it, the more I think I may like her, and I don’t think she wants that from me anymore.”

BMO pat his head empathetically, making a small sound “If you like her, you should go do a big confession, and give her a kiss. That is what happens in the movies.”

Jake rolled his eyes, placing the pancakes on the table “BMO, we don’t know if he likes her.”

“Well, how do you feel about Lady ?” Finn asked as he pulled a plate to him, cutting a bite with his fork.

Jake hummed, pouring himself syrup “Well, she makes my heart fast, she makes me smile, I like spending time with her. There’s all kinds of things I feel about Lady, and trust me I can go on forever about it.”

“Well, Y/n makes me feel different?” Finn mumbled “She always smells good, and sometimes when I’m just sitting with her doing nothing it feels like the best place in the world, and it’s like she always knows when I need something or I want something, even before I do, or something for her will just pop in my brain, like we’re telepathically linked.” Finn tapped his forehead,

“Oh! It’s like when I’m with her, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing cause it’s always fun, even if I hate it with someone else.” He rambled on, about to open his mouth to continue, trying to sort out his feelings, not realizing the red in his cheeks or the smile on his face.

Jake looked to BMO with a knowing smile, while BMO grew annoyed.

“Oh my Glob, Finn, please just go tell her you like her so I don’t have to listen to anymore of your sulking.” BMO bit sassily.

Finn smiled widely “ I like her.” He laughed as he stood, looking at his brother and robot child in disbelief and glee, feeling like he finally cracked some ancient code. “Oh my Glob! I like Y/n!” He laughed and cheered as he ran out of the treehouse.

BMO rolled his eyes “He better not donk it up again.”

Jake made a sound in agreement.

Finn ran into the Candy Kingdom as fast as he could, yelling for Y/n the entire time.

Y/n had been in the ballroom, practicing a dance with her instructor, clad in an elegant gown so that she could get a feel for the way the dress would move with the steps.

When Finn saw her, he couldn’t pull his eyes away, she was truly a princess, every step she made was full of grace, elegance and poise. She was a royal lady, and what was he ? A boy, a hero boy, but still just a boy. One who made her feel less than everything he truly was.

He swore to himself in that moment, on his honor, on his life, on Jake’s life, that he would always, always appreciate her and remember who she truly is.

The most beautiful and awesome girl he’s ever met in his life.

He took one cautious step, the sound causing Y/n to freeze and look up, shock covering her features for a moment, then she regained composure and cleared her throat.

The unclad banana guard assisting her, stopped, glancing between her and Finn with worried eyes, then dipped his head down, whispering in her ear “My lady, is anything wrong? Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

Y/n smiled softly, gently taking his hand and patting it “No thank you, Jason, you’ve been exceedingly helpful and generous, you may take a break and leave us for a few moments, I will yell if I need your immediate assistance.”

As he stepped away, Finn immediately stepped closer, but Y/n kept a stern look “Do you need something?”

She couldn’t help the ache in her heart, begging her to immediately start crying and run away, but she still cared for him deeply, and couldn’t bring herself to turn him away if he needed help.

“Just to tell you how absolutely, monumentally stupid I am for ever telling you that you weren’t enough of anything.” Finn hummed, staring at her as if she’d disappear if he looked away.

“Well, I’m glad you feel that way.” Y/n couldn’t help the smile and giggle that passed through her lips.

Finn smiled, relishing in her wonderful giggle, excited in her presence. “Y/n I like you. I really, really like you.” He admitted.

Y/n tilted her head “Do you now?”

Finn nodded “Yeah and I get it, I really really messed everything up with you, and you have all the right in the world not to believe me, but I mean it, and I will regret those stupid words every day of my life even if you forgive me.”

Y/n let out a small hum, Finn taking her hands “I just want one more chance, and if I donk this one up you can put me in the dungeon if you want.”

The gum-girl couldn’t fight back her giggles as she shifted her hands to rest around his neck “Alright,alright, hero, you can kiss your princess now, if you’d like to that is?” Y/n smiled, tilting her head to look at him curiously.

Finn smiled, his face turning red as he leaned down, pressing a gentle, long kiss to her lips, noting that while his by far weren’t the softest, in fact rather chapped and dry, hers were soft and lightly glossed.

What he noticed the most, however, was how fast his heart was beating, how when he pulled her closer he could feel her heart going as fast of his.

Other than that, simply that it was the most perfect kiss, and when she pulled away to bump her nose against his affectionately, that he would have no problem keeping his personal promise, because he is going to marry her, the most perfect girl in Ooo.

#finn x reader #finn mertens #finn mertens x reader #adventure time x reader #adventure time #jake the dog

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Merry whatever

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 25

Prompt: Christmas

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Fluff; Getting together; First kiss

Notes: Continued from day 5

Steve is just putting the last of the cookies into the oven - stars and trees and gingerbread men with little vampire teeth - when there’s a cacophony of swears and noise from the roof and a giant letter X crashes into the snow outside the kitchen window. He wipes his hands on a towel, slips into his boots and coat and makes his way outside. 

“Eds? You still alive up there?” 

“Barely!” 

Eddie pops his head over the edge of the roof. He’s wearing the Santa hat again, the one they found in the attic together with the letters and the rest of the decorations. 

“Your roof is a fucking ice rink, Harrington. Veritable death trap up here.” 

“Hey,” Steve sloshes closer, almost trips over a plastic elf protruding from the snowy lawn like a tiny, cheerful goblin in a striped hat. “Don’t whine at me. I told you it was a bad idea, getting the letters up in that weather.” 

“Yeah, yeah, mom!” Eddie snarks. “Now get that thing back up here.” 

“Of course,” Steve rolls his eyes but still tucks the fallen letter under his arm and clambers up the ladder. “No fun if we don’t break both our necks.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Eddie takes the letter from him as soon as he’s within reach, then extends a gloved hand to help him onto the roof. The wool is scratchy against his skin, but Steve still revels in the warmth of it, the firm press of Eddie’s fingers entwining with his. “Didn’t survive the literal apocalypse to be taken down by some holiday decorations. Now help me put this- woah!” 

He slips on the icey roof, teeters dangerously close to the abyss, eyes comically large and arms ruddering in the air for balance. Steve does what he does best and flies into action, bodily lunging himself at him and pulling him against his chest. He goes down on the shingles ass first, Eddie sprawled on top of him. By some Christmas miracle, Steve manages to grab a hold of the X before it can fall a second time. 

Eddie’s breath is warm against his neck, hands clawing into his coat, and oh shit, they’re close. So very close. Much closer than two buddies who just happen to be spending Christmas together should be. 

“You okay?” Steve says over the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears. 

“Peachy,” Eddie pulls back, shoves the Santa hat out of his eyes. His very brown, very pretty eyes that Steve has caught himself thinking about an absurd amount lately. There's a bright pink flush coloring the bridge of his nose - probably from the scare. Or the cold. Yup, the cold, that’ll be it. “Reckon you’ll ever get tired of saving my ass, big boy?” 

“Never.” 

The word is out before Steve can bite it back. And maybe it comes with a little too much force, a little too much conviction. The smile slips off Eddie’s face and he blinks. Gulps. Disentangles himself from Steve and takes the letter from his hand. 

For a few moments, the only sounds are those of the wind on the roof and Eddie’s struggle to put the letter in its proper place. 

“Still feels weird sometimes, doesn’t it?” 

“Huh?” Steve says lamely. 

Eddie chuckles and slots back into space beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee. 

“That it’s all just … over like this? That we’re here and get to do all this boring, normal stuff like baking cookies and putting up lights and celebrating Christmas?” 

One of his hands finds Steve’s knee - a light, reassuring touch. 

We’re here.

We’re both here. 

“Dunno,” Steve shrugs. The sky is turning dark and Hawkins is spreading out under them, a sea of twinkling lights slowly coming alive. “I like normal.” 

I wanna do a million normal things with you, for a hundred years. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of it. 

“Yeah,” Eddie hums, a low and content sound that Steve feels in his own body, close as they are. “I'm starting to get the appeal.”

Then, before Steve can say or do anything stupid, he bends down to retrieve something from somewhere by their feet. He reemerges with a toothy grin, a plug and an extension cord. 

“Okayyy, let's get these babies lit up, shall we?” 

Steve turns as the neon lights flicker to life behind them, basking them in their glow and- 

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Whoops.”

The words sparkling down at them, bright and cheerful for all of Loch Nora to behold, read MERRY SMAX. 

The laughing fit hits Steve so hard that, this time, Eddie needs to grab him before he can fall off the roof.

“You asshole,” he wheezes into the leather of his jacket. “You did that on purpose!” 

Eddie gasps through his own laughter, tries to put on a serious face. “What? Stevie, you wound me! What do you take me for? A troublemaker? A fiend with no respect for the honored tradition of this fine, Christian holiday?” 

His eyes are large and round with mock-offense, Santa hat flopping around with the force of his own laughter, face alight with that gorgeous toothy grin of his. He’s ridiculously pretty, so fucking pretty with the lights twinkling all around him and Steve’s brain just sort of short-circuits. Not for long. Just for a second. 

Just long enough to lean in and press his lips to Eddie’s. 

When he pulls back, Eddie isn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he’s staring at him, mouth aghast and eyes wide. 

“Shit,” Steve blurts. “I mean- Sorry, I dunno what that was, I-” 

Something flickers across Eddie’s face, something needy and raw. 

“I’ll show you what the fuck it was,” he growls and pulls Steve back in. 

This time, it takes the blare of the fire alarm from the kitchen to break them apart. 

MERRY SMAX, everybody!!!

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead.

Word Count: 6.1k  

Tags: NSFW. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mentions of Starvation, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan, Mutual Pining, Infidelity

AO3 Link

A/N: This will be a fic consisting of multiple chapters.

Chapter 1: A Man in Need

"Who the hell are you?" you shout as you emerge from your doorstep, pointing your shotgun at his head.

He turns slowly from the apple tree in your front yard, hands now raised to his sides. He swallows nervously like a schoolboy caught in the act as the apple he was holding lands swiftly on the ground. He's tall enough to reach the highest branches with ease, the only ones you've yet to pick clean as you're too lazy to get the ladder.

"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am." He looks at you pleading with his eyes, one of them almost as black as his boots. His exposed hands and forearms are bruised but healing, you reckon the fight he was in must have been a few days ago. His shirt and pants look like they've been slept in for days, the dirt and the grass staining them worse than the sweat. He is wearing an old leather hat, which frames his chiseled face perfectly, tilted enough so you can see his piercing blue eyes. They might be telling you he is a kind man if it were not for the fact that you've caught him stealing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You try to pretend you're not frightened by the hooligan now standing in your property. You hope your voice is as demanding as his presence.

"Please don't shoot, ma'am. I'm... I'm sorry. I just..."

"You what?" You cock the shotgun with authority.

"I'm- I'm just... I'm so... hungry." His voice quivers as he utters the last word, barely audible. He looks embarrassed to admit it but hopes his honesty is enough to save him from an early grave. He holds still as a sign of cooperation. His manner seems genuine to you, his confession matching his appearance.

You hold your position as you ponder what to do next. The both of you are still enough that you can hear the fire in your hearth inside. You have just finished peeling the potatoes so you can add them to the stew you're making. You were hoping to have enough leftovers for tomorrow, but you guess there's enough dinner for two.

"Do you have any weapons?" You don't lower your voice or your shotgun.

"Just a pocketknife, ma'am." The man seems truthful.

"Throw it." He obeys and the knife lands by your feet on the porch. You pick it up and pocket it next to yours.

"You have anything else?"

"No, ma'am. Just some cigarettes." He reaches for one of his pant pockets and retrieves them, dropping them on the floor. He shows you the other pocket is empty before being quick to remove his boots, showing you he has nothing to hide. His hands return to his sides once he's finished.

"Would you like some food?"

He takes a breath and swallows air at the mention of it. "Yes... Yes, ma'am. Very much so." The threat of the stranger subsides as you now realize you are standing in front of a famished man. You slowly lower your shotgun from your dinner guest. His hands remain upright as he waits for instructions.

"Put your boots on. I need to get inside to finish dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." He is quick to stand in front of you, waiting for permission to climb the stairs. Even with you standing on the porch, he's almost as tall as you. Up close, he's even more handsome than you had realized.

"What's your name?"

"Morgan. Arthur Morgan, ma'am." He tips his hat awkwardly. His gaze is weary but pleading for compassion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan. My name is Y/N. Please come in. I reckon there's enough food for the both of us." As he climbs the stairs he looks at you like he's being invited to a Saint Dennis' banquet. "Now, don't go thinking it's anything fancy. I don't have much."

"Anything you can give me I'll be grateful till the day I die." He seems just as obedient without a shotgun pointed at him, even though he towers over you. He carries himself with an undeniable raw magnetism, slightly undercut by a sensible restraint, a quiet but powerful virility. You are not immune to its immediate effects.  

"Well, don't die just yet. Don't need any dead bodies on my property." He tries to pretend to be amused but he can only muster an exhale, looking down at you, staring, mouth agape. You're now so close you swear you can smell the whole forest on him. You start to map out the details of his features like constellations in the night sky. You almost reach out your hand to touch them.

You turn around to enter your cottage just as the idea overtakes you. You realize, under the right circumstances, you might be as obedient to him as he's been to you.

"Would you like some water?" you say as you head straight for the kitchen, already reaching for a glass to serve him. His "yes, ma'am" is barely out before he downs the whole glass, letting out slurping noises of urgency and relief. You serve him a few more times before his chugs quiet down and his thirst is quenched. He removes his hat to reveal his sweaty temple and his luscious caramel hair.

"There is a vanity inside if you'd like to wash up while I finish dinner."

"Thank you." He heads towards your bedroom while you put down your shotgun and get the potatoes. Your two-room cottage is quite small, so you can hear him wash while stirring the stew. Water sloshes in the bowl for sometime before it stops. He struggles with something for a while before you hear the brief unzipping of his pants, the quick fastening of his buckle.

He takes his time but he emerges clean, his skin glowing bright by the light of the fire. He has groomed and rearranged his clothes to appear more presentable, his sleeves buttoned and his collar smoothed. He has tucked in his shirt, doing his best to hide the noticeable blood stains. His hair is swept back, you can tell he spent some time trying to comb it with his fingers. He holds his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim, patiently waiting for your command, looming over you as you cook. By the attentive way he's looking at you, you wonder if your attraction is reciprocated.

"Nearly done, Mr. Morgan." You raise from the fire to cool yourself as the room heats up with his presence. "I'll just set the table. Take a seat." He watches as you place some of your finest dishes and cutlery, arranging it all as well as you can to impress your guest. You soon pour the meaty stew onto your plates.

He stares at the food on the table for a little while, his mouth salivating at the sight. You figure he hasn't eaten anything for days now, surviving on whatever the forest gifted him. Whatever it was, surely not enough for a man of his stature. He moans after he takes his first bites, each one louder than the last. He tries to eat slowly but soon gives it up, ditching any pretense of civility in favor of sustenance. He holds the spoon for the stew in one hand while holding bread in the other, fetching for more of the other as he eats either one.

You try to eat your own meal as you become enraptured by the spectacle. His animalistic mannerisms are oddly captivating and leave little to the imagination. His piercing blue eyes raise from the food to eye you from time to time, ravishing you as he does his meal.

Arthur is on his fourth plate of stew before he begins to slow down. All the bread you had is gone, much to your regret. After you serve yourself a second helping, you drop the ladle and hear it echo in the nearly empty pot. You finish your meal by you reaching for some fruit for dessert, the last of the apples you were able to reach. You place one in front of Arthur just as he finishes scooping up the last of the liquid on his plate.

"I'm sorry I stole from you." He hangs his head in regret.

"Well, you didn't eat it. So I guess you didn't steal it." The peel of your apple lands as a perfect spiral on your plate.

"You're very kind for feeding me."

"I'd like to think that if the situation were reversed, you'd feed me too."

"I'd be honored if you'd let me repay you, ma'am." You know he means it.

You reach inside your pocket and take out Arthur's pocketknife before you hand it to him. "I'll have to think of something." He grabs the knife and begins to peel the apple as you did. "For now, I think I'll just hear your story."

You're on your second whiskey when you pour Arthur his third, relieved you opened the least expensive bottle. It'll be some time before Arthur gets tipsy given what he's eaten. You, however, have reached your limit.  

He's been telling you about how he was ambushed on the road a few days back. O'Driscolls, he says. A group took him into the forest to beat him and left him to die with just some cigarettes in his pocket, no matches. The hunger wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't left him without a coat to keep him from the cold. He was losing hope when he stumbled onto your homestead and saw your apples.

You tell him little about yourself and he doesn't inquire much, thinking it's best not to pry. But he keeps staring at you with those hungry eyes of his and you wonder if he can see there's hunger in you too.

When the conversation dies, he rises from his chair to squat by the fire, reaching for a burning twig to light one of his cigarettes. You stare at his broad back, barely covered by his thinly stretched shirt. You wonder how your hands compare to it in size. Perhaps he has constellations on his back that you can map out too. You'd work your way upward, tracing lines with your fingers between his freckles and scars all the way up to his neck, finishing by feeling his big shoulders under your small hands. You'd be interrupted by him swinging you around so he can face to kiss you, passionately and without remorse. He would plant his own large hands on your small shoulders as you feel the weight of his full desire bearing down on you. You'd grab his shoulders again as he enters you.

He rises back to his chair, interrupting your fantasy. "You saved a man from death today, miss. I'm very grateful."

"Well, you just make sure you get some rest tonight. There's plenty of fire to keep warm. And more whiskey too." You lift the bottle to pour him more but he declines. "In the morning, you can take my horse into town. See if you can get in touch with your folks."

"Oh, I can't take more of your generosity, miss."

"Why not? I insist! I won't need the horse for a few days. I might have some money I can lend—"

"I can't possibly accept that, miss." The idea almost offends him.

"Fine, I won't lend you the money. So you'll take the horse then?" You smile as you trick him into charity.

He sighs. "Well, I guess I will." He looks rather defeated.

"Ok, good." You get up. "Now, you stay where you are while I go get linens to make your bed." You rush to your bedroom before he has a chance to object.

You haven't noticed how dark it has gotten until you see the moonlight illuminating your room, bright enough that you can see your way to your dresser. You light the lamp above it and notice the water in the vanity, muddied with dirt and old blood. The towel he used is neatly folded and placed on the dresser, the act of a thoughtful guest. You pick it up to place it with your dirty laundry and you catch a sniff of his smell in it. A mist of wood, grass, and sweat. Without a thought, you linger on it.

You look at your made-up bed and imagine what it would be like to have it drenched with his smell, his sweat staining the sheets after his vigorousness. You wonder if he'd be as loud as he was during dinner or if he would grow quiet, intensely concentrating on his pleasure. Or maybe he'd focus on yours, his lips seducing yours, first above your waistline and then below. Either way, you'd wrap your legs around him, savoring the feeling. You'd grab his shoulders once he'd surface, the two of you connected at the hips, colliding into each other. Afterward, you'd rest in his arms, his broad back taking up most of your mattress. You'd wash the dirty sheets in the morning but they'd still have traces of him. Just like you.

You wake from your stupor when you remember Arthur is outside, waiting for his actual bed to be made. You take from the armoire a blanket and a spare pillow and you wonder if he'll be able to fit in your old davenport. He most certainly will not. He could always take your bed.

You find him standing by the door as if he's leaving. Not courageous enough to leave without a goodbye. He jolts when he sees you emerge from the bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Look, miss, maybe it's best if I be on my way. I can walk from here. I'll come back to repay you for your trouble." He looks at you like he's scared of what will happen if you let him stay. You suspect that his head is filled with impure thoughts too, now that the hunger in his eyes is deeper.

"But it's already nighttime. There's no point in leaving now." Please don't leave, you think. You could make it worth his while.

"It ain't proper to bother you no more. Especially a woman by herself."

"It's no bother. Or improper, to help a man in need. Besides, I told you you can borrow my horse in the morning."

"I can't accept that."

"Seriously, Mr. Morgan, take what you need." You go to place the linens on the davenport, which is definitely too small for him.

“I think I've taken enough from you, ma’am.”

When you turn around you see Arthur has already opened the door and is on his way out. You rush to him and without thinking you grab his forearm and force him to turn, his figure filling your doorway, illuminated by the moonlight. He looks down at you, surprised by your boldness, his eyes burning with lust. You feel his heartbeat quicken in your hand.

You're brave enough to caress him with your thumb. "Don't go, Arthur."

He doesn't recoil and looks down at you, clearly wanting to accept your proposition. "It's been a while," he admits. He seems so timid yet so needy.

"Me too."

He hesitates for a few seconds before he finally reaches down to kiss you. His plump lips land on yours, softer than any kiss you could imagine him giving. It's powerful enough to titillate every part of you. You catch the smell of your soap on his skin as he presses closer to you. After a moment, he withdraws, still unsure of himself.

You reassure him again. "Take what you need."

You lose grasp of his wrist and feel both his hands reaching to the sides of your neck. He kisses you deeply now, pushing your lips apart to make room for his. You taste the cheap whiskey you served him when the tip of his tongue reaches yours. You grab onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. They're bigger than you imagined.

You lose yourself in his passion, malleable to his sudden force as he begins to overpower you, wrapping his arms around you while his tongue wraps around yours. He finally starts to take what he needs. You receive what you need, too.

Once he eases on you for a moment, you take the chance to lead him to your bedroom, anxious to enact the dirty daydream you just had in there. He follows your trail while kissing and caressing you, getting more confident as he escalates, gradually lowering his hands, from your face to your shoulders, then to your waist, and to your hips, ecstatically enveloping you. You're by the bed when you feel yourself vibrating with lust for the man that's touching you, getting wetter by the minute.

When your back hits the armoire, his pelvis runs into you and you feel his length already hard against you. You lean into him, savoring the sensation, and you guide his hands to your ass, which he grabs greedily, making you sway closer to him. Both of you exchange gasps in each other's mouths. Like at dinner, he sounds louder with every bite.

As much as it pains you, you slightly push Arthur back to start speeding things along. He watches as you begin to work your blouse, opening the buttons you fastened this morning. If you had known how aroused you'd be tonight, you would never have picked the blouse with so many buttons. You were hoping to strip for him, but your fingers are now clammy from the excitement, so you need an extra hand.

"Help me out, would you?"

He reaches for the button you're trying to undo, the one right between your breasts. Once he has access inside, he gets distracted by the visible part of your tits, already peeking through your chemise. He moves his fingertips over them, touching them delicately. The sensation feels like lightning to you and you let out small whispers of delight. You get louder once you feel his whole hand reaching under the chemise, softly cupping a whole breast, his palm now stimulating your nipple.  

The sensation makes you melt under his touch. In return, you lower your hand to reach the growing erection under his pants, making him draw out a loud groan of satisfaction. You watch as Arthur closes his eyes as you continue to massage him, fully riveted by the sensation. The big size on your hand leaves you no less breathless.

It evidently becomes too overwhelming for him and he abruptly stops you and removes his hand. In a strangled voice, he leans into your ear to whisper. “I think I need another whiskey.”

He goes out the door and you watch as he heads to the table, pours himself a drink and downs it with a frustrated grunt. He pours another, trying to settle his nerves, concentrating on avoiding a premature release. You figure it must be a long while since he's been touched by a woman. His erection must be painfully throbbing by now. He probably has no idea how arousing this is.

You go back in the room to open the drawer of your dresser. You cut the rest of the buttons of your blouse with your scissors, you can always saw them back later. You're finally free to undo the rest of your blouse and remove your skirt and chemise, finally naked and free. You return to your bedroom door to tell Arthur the good news.

You find him staring at the fire as it dies down, the drink still on the table nearby. His shirt has now been removed and so has his modesty, it seems. You watch as he unbuckles his pants and frees himself, at last holding his stiffness in his hand. He takes a moment before he starts pumping, languidly stroking his length while letting out small sounds of relief.

You marvel at the sight of the cowboy letting loose, so you decide not to disturb him. You get wetter at the realization that he's touching an arousal you helped build. Unable to contain yourself, you reach for your own sex, trying to find some much-needed relief. For a few moments, you both touch each other to the same lazy rhythm.

“I can help with that, you know?” You come out of the bedroom once you reach your limit, desperate for his touch.

Arthur freezes in place when he sees you standing there, now fully naked with your hair down. You could swear his cock shifts in his hand at your sight. You join him by the fire and, without permission, you resume his handiwork on your own fist while he lets out his audible approval. He huffs louder when you reach for his tip.

When he seems to unfreeze, he cups one of your breasts, as if to steady himself. He lightly massages your nipple with his thumb as you continue to work on his length.

You continue pumping him, fastening the pace as you feel him panting under you and see him close his eyes. You stop before things get out of control, which brings him back to the room.

"Let's get to bed," you suggest.

You lead him inside until you sit on the edge of the bed. It's now your turn to wait for instructions. But you pick up on some of his earlier hesitation, a man worried about unloading himself on you.

“Take me.” Your tone is almost a pleading one. "Take me, Arthur."

The sound of his name on your lips is enough to rouse him. What follows next is utterly exhilarating as he makes you lie fully on the bed, his hands pushing your shoulders down while his cock presses on your stomach. Once he rises, he instructs you. "Spread your legs for me, girl." You do as your told, trembling at his sudden domineering voice.  

You watch as he stands looming over you, his cock fully erect and twitching with need, an erotic image you won't soon forget. He takes a moment to look at you, spread out with your legs hanging, your core exposed. He's surely saving a picture for himself too.

"Mmm so pretty for me." He reaches down and parts your folds. "So wet for me, too." He drags his index up and down, watching as you writhe under the sensation. You wish that he would linger further on your clit but instead he grabs your hip with one hand and puts the other on his length, aligning the head at your entrance, wetting it with your slick. It's both completely thrilling and not enough at the same time.

"You gonna take me good, girl?" He grips your hip more forcefully. You nod for him as you prepare yourself for what's coming. You hold your arms to the side, just like he did when you were pointing the shotgun at him. Just like him, you surrender.

He enters you messily as he hurries inside, clearly impatient to start. He groans loudly and sloppily, almost like a teenager. You cling to the sheets beside you as you take him, adapting to the feeling of being completely filled. Once he's inside, he takes a second to adjust, clearly savoring being inside another woman again.

"Mmm, so good and tight, girl. Fuck. Fuuuck!"

Once he's fully buried in you, he loses no time and begins to thrust, starting off faster than you expect. He looks at you with unapologetic lust. It takes you some getting used to his rhythm and size, but something about his hungry demeanor arouses you enough to dissipate any discomfort. You soon begin to experience a type of pleasure you haven't felt in a long while.

You can't help but let out whatever moan comes out of you, as your senses surrender to to the hooligan now overpowering you. You have quenched his thirst, relieved his hunger and now you're satisfying his most carnal need. Each time he has repaid you with the most obscene noises and lascivious stares. You hope you're repaying him back in the same way.

His thrusts become erratic, a man in desperate need of release. You try to do your best to please him further, but there's not much you can do once he controls both your hips with his hands, allowing him to bury himself as deep within you as possible. When he further angles down on you, you feel more pressure on your clit, wrapping your knees around him, pressing for more.

His pacing is now reckless as he tries to satisfy his hunger, dripping with sweat over you. You're completely enthralled as this complete stranger fucks you so greedily under the cover of night. You feel yourself getting closer to some edge you barely even knew existed.

By the manner he fucks you, you figure his long-held repression will not make him last long, so you're dismayed but not surprised when you feel him approaching his climax. You haven't reached yours yet, even though you know you're very close. You wish he holds on a little longer, but it's too late once you hear him huff with even less discretion and you feel his muscles tensing around you.

Arthur pulls out of you before he comes, spilling white ropes all over your stomach, stroking his own cock to finish. It's a long and deep orgasm, one he's been needing for sometime. He remains in his position, still holding his cock, mouth opened and eyes closed as he comes down from his high. He goes limp, landing next to you with a thud, exhausted and with his eyes closed, unable to move.

Arthur's climax is no doubt the most erotic one you've ever witnessed and the arousal it creates in you is only a burden once you realize you still haven't orgasmed yourself. You get up to fetch a clean towel, cleaning his spill off of yourself and you watch as he lays there, eyes still closed. His chest begins to settle as his breathing calms.

You get back in bed and kneel beside him, your eyes surveying every part of his incredible physique, his cock now semi-hard after being inside you. You rub two of your fingers in your wetness before you place them on your clit and move them in circles to find your pleasure again. You're still very aroused and it's not long before you feel the beginning of your climax again. You keep staring at Arthur, his body reason enough to titillate you further. You look at his length, already missing having it inside you, so you slip a couple of fingers in you. They're not even close to replacing him but they provide enough pressure to continue building your peak.

You keep watching him and keep thinking of him thrusting into you when you start to let out sharp whimpers, panting as you inch closer to release. They're loud enough to make Arthur wake from his exhaustion and you watch as he props himself up on his elbows, enjoying the view of your self-gratification. But just watching isn't enough for him.

"Let me."

He places his fingers on top of yours, which are now circling your clit at a fast pace. You let him learn the rhythm of the motion and then you remove your hand, squirming as you feel him directly pleasuring you. It happens just in time as it's only a moment until you finally come, erupting wildly under his unyielding touch. He works you through your orgasm until you finally collapse next to him, unconsciously searching for his chest and placing your semi-lucid head there.

You feel him wrap you in his arms, caressing your back as your breathing eases. "That was beautiful, girl."

When you open your eyes after a while, you notice the lamp in your room has gone out and the both of you are now bathing in the moonlight, only accompanied by the sounds of the surrounding forest. You soon notice Arthur's deep breathing under you and you realize he must have fallen fast asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of the past few days, enjoying the safety of your bed. A man now fed, fucked and sheltered.

Although you don't want to, you slowly remove yourself from him. You cover him with your quilt but not before gazing at his full body again, already missing it on top of you. You move to the side of the bed he doesn't occupy, small enough to have you lay on your side by his side. You fall asleep to the sound of his deep loud breathing. Two perfect strangers satiated in the moonlight.

—

It's a regular morning for you, waking up alone in your bed, eyes opened and staring at the wooden ceiling. But this time you feel your insides a little sore, a welcomed reminder of last night. You turn to look at Arthur's place, now empty but his outline still visible on the sheets. You map it with your fingers as you wonder where he is, still burning with the memory of him inside you.

You get up and dress in clean clothes you pick from your dresser, a simple blouse and skirt with fewer buttons, pretty enough that he might like. You tie up your hair in your usual practical bun. You douse some expensive perfume on your neck, a small strand running between your breasts.

You guess it is about seven by the morning's light outside. You step into the porch as you watch Arthur next to the apple tree, in the same spot where you found him yesterday. He's picking the remaining apples on the top and placing them on a basket. The sight of his chiseled body under his clothes is enough to flare the arousal you thought you'd extinguished last night.

He sees you when he retrieves the last apple, perched over a lower branch. He brings you a full basket with a small grin on his face, a man whose basic needs seem to have been entirely fulfilled.

You can't help but smile too. "You stealing from me again, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, miss. Thought I'd finish what I started and get them down for you." He sets the basket at your feet, like an ancient priest offering it to a deity. "Now no one can try to steal them again."

"Wouldn't want any competition, huh?" You tease him as he approaches you, his hands on his hips, sweat running down his brow.

He licks his lips before answering. "No, ma'am. Wouldn't dream of it."

"You hungry?"

"I'm still full after last night."

You giggle slightly at his insinuation before you lead him back into your kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Arthur helps make coffee while you prepare the bacon, eggs and sausages. The meal feels a little off without some bread, but you barely notice in the presence of your company.

Arthur is telling you an amusing story involving a donkey on his passing through Armadillo, letting you peek inside his previous life before he made it to New Haven. It pleases you that he is a traveling man, besides clearly being a resourceful one. He grows quiet when you ask him what he does for a living. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the tension brought on by the vague answer he gives.

He gets up to help you clear the rest of the dishes on the table. "I best get going if I'm gonna make it to Valentine before noon."

The mention of him leaving stings you. "You can go get Amber. She's on the stable out back. She's real friendly."

"May I?" Arthur points to the basket of apples and when you nod he grabs two of them, taking a big bite out of one. You see him drool a little before he walks out the door.

You busy yourself with the dishes before he comes back. All the while you feel a pang in your stomach as you think about him leaving, wishing you could spend the night together again. Flashes of last night burst into your consciousness, making you relieve it deliciously. You feel yourself filled with lust again before it's even eight in the morning.

When you catch Arthur leading Amber to your yard, you realize that if he's a man of his word he'll have to come back to return her safely back to you. Maybe you'll cook dinner for him again. Maybe he'll take you once again. You head out for the yard with your mind made up to ask him to come back.

"It's a nice trotter you got here. Well fed too." He pets her neck, much to her delight, and he feeds her the other apple he grabbed. "That's a good girl." His wording sounds like an echo from last night.  

"She like carrots too. I've put some inside, some beans and corn for you too. Don't want you going hungry again." You hand him a satchel you've prepared for his journey into town.

"Much obliged." He nods in thanks and places it on his shoulder, which barely shifts at the weight of it. He steps forward as he begins his goodbye, halting just as he hovers above you.

"I'm very grateful to you, miss. For everything." He whispers the last part as a dirty little secret that only you two share.

"Well, I'm glad I could be of help." You fidget with your fingers, too afraid to ask him to stay, too cowardly to say goodbye.

"I'll come back to bring Amber. And to repay you. I promise." He emphasizes the last part like it's a sacred vow.

Arthur lingers over you and you wait for his next move. It looks like he's going kiss you goodbye but instead he takes a few steps back and mounts Amber instead. He gives you one last look and one last nod before he urges her to trot and you watch as he gallops out of view. His absence leaves you cold and sullen, mended only by the promise of his return.  

You decide not to spend the day wallowing, instead being grateful for the night of passion you just experienced. You set out to do the remainder of your chores before you resume your knitting. When you finish with the kitchen, you tidy up the rest of the living room. You put away the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. You relight the fire in the hearth. You put away the linens on the sofa that have been sitting there all night, unused.

You turn around in your bedroom to find the bed still unmade, his outline still traceable. You go to remove the quilt from the bed when it hits you. You catch a whiff of his smell again, this time all over your sheets, right where he had you. You catch a few stains of dried sweat where both of you laid, asleep and awake. Traces of his spend and your slick. It's his pillow that most delights you as it smells so intensely of him, it's almost like he's there again.

Like he's there again, pushing you downward, telling you to spread, filling you whole. So pretty for me. Taking you, over and over. So good and tight, girl. Fuck. The memory is too strong for you to resist it, so you lay down again, right where he had you. You use your fingers to try to mimic his movements and vigor. You cannot match them, but they are enough to make you come again, this time while he's still inside you, and you repeat his name out loud as you do it. You lay your head on his pillow as you come down to earth again. That was beautiful, girl. You remember his promise to come back, the possibility of him taking you again surely enough to power you until his return.

It's midmorning when you decide to get up and finally change the sheets, as much as it pains you to lose his scent. You decide to leave his pillow untouched, a souvenir of your unexpected affair, now lying atop the fresh bed linens.

You set out to do the laundry, hoping it dries with the afternoon sun. You wash the sheets first, then your clothes and undergarments, followed by the towels. You take a second to look at the embroidery you stitched on the hand towel you used to clean Arthur's seed off of you.

It's only when you see his initials that you think of your husband. 

--

A/N: Already working on chapter 2! Feedback is welcomed!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #goodmorgan

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— flufftober (day 13) —

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, talks of pregnancy complications

Prompt: Hot Chocolate (alt2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

@flufftober || flufftober masterlist

Can be read with Day One

Halloween had barely begun and you had already picked out the perfect tree and bought new sets of ornaments to match your new house decoration for the Holidays. Candles burned and flickered on the walls as you went around the tree, humming to yourself.

It was not time to start decorating. It was too early for you to even put up red stockings, but you did anyway. You were way too early, but you needed something to do. The bedrest that had been prescribed to you was annoying and it let Bucky nag you to sit down without having to make up an excuse.

Being fairly enough energetic at seven months pregnant, you were more likely than not to be found roaming the halls of your home and finding everything and anything to keep yourself preoccupied.

Before it was an issue, it had given Bucky time to hole up in his study to finish up his brief meetings with Sam about the Young Avengers Initiative without having to entertain your boredness. He would come out later to the light citrus smell of cleaning spray and the newly released scent of baked goods.

Though, now, he was scared to death about seeing you up on your feet after a long discussion with Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner about your pregnancy. With the super-soldier serum baby growing in your average human body, it was hard for them to dictate the next steps. They had instantly told you to take lots of rest and eating more than usual would be considered normal.

That was all they knew.

It was all Bucky needed to hear to start becoming more and more protective as the bump grew with the baby. You started glowing with your pregnancy and he found another reason to love you everyday.

He could, however, do without you standing on a ladder to try and secure the star on the tip of the tree. Much less when he had gone out for groceries and a quick drink with Sam on the outskirts of the little town you two had picked to settle in. He froze for just a moment when you went on your goddamn tiptoes to reach further and higher. His heart was pounding and he forced his feet to move.

“Sweets, Y/N, sweetheart.” He exhaled deeply when your heels were back on the step. His hands grasped the metal bars of the short ladder and he looked up at you, willing his heart to slow down from its thundering state. “You can’t—sweets, I love you, I really do. But, couldn’t you wait?”

You grinned down at him, sickeningly sweetly which meant he had fucked up somehow.

“I would have waited,” you started, lowering yourself gently to sit on the step with your feet grazing his thigh now. “But you kept saying you were busy.”

He racked his brain and remembered the few times you had asked him to put up the Christmas tree and all the other decoration that you ordered while seated on his lap in his study.

“In a few days, sweets.”

“Soon.”

“Once Halloween is over.”

“I’ll do it soon, sweets.”

He had good reasons, but those promises had led up to you on a ladder while he was gone out. If you had missed a step, if the ladder had slipped, if you had been climbing down and something happened, he wouldn’t have known. He would have found you on the ground and never would he have forgiven himself for any of it.

“Sweets, get down,” Bucky all but ordered. His voice, as harsh as it was, was somehow just as gentle. Soft and low toned. He had never raised his voice at you and never would. He was better than that. But, god, his biggest nightmare could have been reality today.

Your face lost its smile and your hands went to your bump. Something in his face must have told you exactly what he was thinking about because then you were holding his shoulders and squeezing them lightly as you climbed down slowly and carefully. Once your feet were on the ground, solid hardwood ground, you cupped his face.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, scratching his cheekbone lightly. “We’re okay, James.” The use of his first name released a sigh from his lips. It was your way of saying that what you said was true and real. His shoulders sagged and his eyes fluttered close with your warmth. He felt your forehead press onto his and a light kiss was dropped on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your lips.

You smiled.

“Me, too. I should have waited. I know you would have done it. I’m sorry for the scare.”

His eyes opened and watched another grin appear on your face.

“So, want some hot chocolate?”

He laughed and nodded. For now, he would let you get away with it. Later, when you were taking another nap or a long bath, he would finish the tree and put up the rest of the decorations.

#flufftober 2023 #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #day 13 #prompt alt 2 #marvel cinematic universe #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x you #marvel #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x y/n #avenger x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #bucky barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #x reader #x y/n #x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

[eiightysixbaby]

wrapped in red

jonathan byers x fem!reader

1.6k

18+ only - sickeningly sweet fluff (I’m not kidding it’s disgusting don’t say I didn’t warn you), they’re just so in love, unprotected p in v, creampie. this is not proofread I wrote it so fast so if u see any mistakes mind ur business.

“Tilt it a little to the left…”

Jonathan’s arm reaches back up to the star on top of the tree, fingers gently pushing it in the appropriate direction. The ladder creaks as he shifts his weight on it, the wooden steps groaning under his socked feet.

“Okay, now just ever so slightly forward,” you direct, motioning towards yourself with a curl of your finger. He follows your instruction, looking at you for approval.

You frown, backing up further to really get a good look at the whole tree. Your face scrunches in dissatisfaction. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t look quite right…” you tilt your head, thinking.

He climbs down from his perch, walking towards you and standing directly behind you as his arms snake around your waist to hold you against him. “Looks pretty,” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose in your hair as he plants a kiss to the side of your head. “Doesn’t have to be completely perfect, it looks great no matter what.”

“Are you sure?” you turn to him, pouting.

“Positive. It’s a beautiful tree, cause it’s ours.” He believes that, he really does, but he also knows he couldn’t have gotten that star to look any straighter if he tried.

Not that he minds. Your attention to detail only makes him love you even more.

You ponder this over, eventually deciding he’s right. It is a beautiful tree. “Yeah, it’s ours,” you say, a smile creeping up on your face. “Now we can get started on the ornaments,” you say, changing your tune as you beam at him.

He melts at the way your eyes light up, finding it so cute how excited you get for the holidays. You squirm out of his grasp, giving him a kiss before you start sifting through the first box of ornaments. Shiny red baubles are plucked from the box, and he watches as you place each one on the tree with careful consideration. You coo at an ornament Joyce had given you, one that Jonathan made as a craft project as a kid. There’s clumps of dried glue that could only be the product of a child’s eager hands squeezing the bottle too hard, and you laugh as you hold it up for him to see.

“What’re you laughing for? That was my magnum opus,” he grins at you, walking to where you are and wrapping his arms around you once more.

His eyes hold nothing but affection when they meet yours, his smile so sweet.

“Babe,” you giggle, “we’re never going to get this done if you don’t let me go,” you wriggle in his grip, pretending like you’re so inconvenienced. He knows you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“Maybe I just want to hold you a little bit longer,” he muses, leaning down to catch your lips in a kiss.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, smiling against his lips.

“Just can’t believe we finally have our own place together. That this is my life now,” he says, tilting his head in the direction of the tree.

You set his homemade ornament down, bringing your hands up to his face to cup his cheeks. “Feels weird, right?” you ask him, humming softly when he brushes his nose against yours.

“Yeah, but in the best way,” he assures, his eyes half-lidded as he leans in for another kiss, lips ghosting over yours until you’re the one fully closing the distance; impatient.

His hands move to the small of your back, pressing you entirely against him as he deepens the kiss. His mouth moves against yours so tenderly, yet you can feel the need behind it all.

“Jonathan…” you breathe, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes.

It’s all you need to say. He doesn’t need anything else before he’s walking you back to the loveseat that sits in the corner of the room. He’s barely sat down when you’re straddling his lap, knees on either side of his hips, pressing into the cushion. Big hands find their way to the hem of your sweater, your arms raising as he tugs the garment off of you. His mouth finds the curve of your breasts, kissing the swells of flesh where they sit in your bra.

Head thrown back, you moan up to the ceiling, his lips sucking softly on your delicate skin. He’s getting hard, you can feel it, and you’re desperate to have him. You grind down on him, eliciting a muttered curse from under his breath. Your fingers undo the button on his pants, working the zipper down right after as his mouth seeks out your own. One, two, three quick kisses are pressed to your lips before you’re shifting, undressing from the waist down and watching as he does the same. You straddle his bare thighs, taking in the sight of his cock that you don’t think you’ll ever tire of. It’s already leaking for you, ready and waiting.

“Please,” he murmurs, kissing your jawline and up to your earlobe. “Need you.”

Gripping the base of him gently, you line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down onto him. Gasping when his tip parts your folds, spreading you open. His fingers dig into your hips, not enough to hurt but enough to let you know he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

You whine, high pitched and pretty once every inch of him is concealed inside you, your brain already fuzzy with ecstasy. His face is lit up by the glow from the lights on the tree, his eyes studying your face intently, catching every change of expression. Everything about the moment is soft and sweet, your body bouncing slowly on his lap, arousal dripping from you and coating him completely.

He buries his face in your neck, lips kissing the skin between his heavy breaths. “You’re so perfect, god I love you so much,” he says quietly, making you moan as his cock hits the perfect spot. The words don’t even really need to be spoken, the love is simply felt. It hangs in the air, inviting and welcome. Yet he says them anyways, and you’d certainly never complain. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he continues, his hands firmly squeezing your ass as you continue to rock your hips.

The more you start to unravel, the more he takes control, fucking up into you so slowly — savoring every single second. Nothing is fast, nothing is rough, it’s not even vulgar. That can wait, for another time and another day. Fingers stroke your cheek gently, his lips curling into a smile at the way your mouth opens in a silent moan.

“So pretty, you’re so so pretty,” he says, punctuating his sentence with another deep thrust. “Prettiest fucking girl,” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Can’t get enough of you,” another kiss, lingering this time, his tongue slipping past your lips.

You accept it gladly, whining into his open mouth as your tongues swirl around each other. You pull away briefly. “I love—” you start to say, but then he’s chasing your lips, begging for more. “Love you too—” you gasp as his hips start to move just a bit faster. “So much, Jonathan.”

Your forehead rests on his, your mouth hung open as you moan for him. He loves your pretty sounds, loves the way you tense up around his cock when the pad of his finger starts to rub circles on your clit. He can’t tear his eyes away, watching the way your chest heaves with your ragged breaths and how your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure. He’s more than ready to cum, he just needs to make sure you are, too. Your noises get even higher in pitch, airier as you dangle on the edge of your release.

“Come on, sweet girl, cum for me,” he coos, impossibly delicate in your ear and it’s all you need to unravel.

The second your walls start fluttering around him, he’s spilling his load into you, moaning your name over and over like a mantra as you squeeze every drop from him. Your body goes slack, leaning into him once you’ve completely ridden out your high. Instantly his hands wrap around your back, holding you as close to him as he possibly can. He sits warm and still inside of you, and you welcome the feeling of being so full. You don’t want to move, don’t want to be completely out of this moment quite yet.

As if reading your mind, he pulls the blanket out from behind him, where it was resting over the back of the chair. He wraps it around you, letting you slump fully against him, your eyes heavy with impending sleep. You both look out the window, watching as the snow falls silently to the ground, adding to the blanket of white that already rests there.

“I love this life with you,” Jonathan murmurs into your hair, his lips smushed to the top of your head.

A pleased hum leaves your body, snuggling closer to him. He doesn’t need you to say anything back, he already knows how you feel.

You’re certain life has never been better than this, as you listen to Jonathan’s breathing and the quiet ticking of the clock on the mantle. Tomorrow, your home will be filled with your friends. Laughter and joy will radiate off of the walls that already harbor so much love. You will welcome them in to the space that is yours, yours with Jonathan, and they will leave and it will still be yours. There’s no rush to finish the tree, the rest of the ornaments can wait till the morning. None of this is going anywhere, it will all be here for you when you wake. Your eyes shut as your head rests against Jonathan’s chest.

Right before you drift into sleep, you think about that star. How it kept moving a little to the left or a little to the right, as if its crookedness could ever take away from the perfection that is this home. That is this life, with Jonathan.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan byers fanfiction

[a3risbaby]

what we whispered in the dark [m]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 stardew valley : sam x afab!reader (no pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Between the sneaking around and him nearing cumming in his pants from a heated kiss, you don't feel like a pair of twenty-somethings who are three and a half seasons into their relationship. And something about that makes your heart soar. He always finds a way to make you fall in love like it's the first day all over again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 smut (minors dni), fluff, established relationship, face-sitting, vaginal fingering (barely), cross-posted on ao3 | 1.9k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 my first x reader smut! i was going to continue, but i figured that this was a good stopping place. let me know if you liked it :)

On your first day in Pelican Town, you tried to greet everyone, introducing yourself as the new farmer taking over your grandfather's dilapidated farm. The reactions varied from the gruff Get the fuck out of my face (Shane, your favorite grouch) to the stand off-ish Oh...you're not what I was expecting (Jodi, who's warmed up a little) to the pleasant Nice. I'll see you around (Alex, one of your fastest friends).

And Sam? Sam was sweet, you realized immediately, and your impression hasn't changed since. With his bright hair and even brighter smile, he always passes you with a chipper wave, kicking off on his ever present skateboard, and you find yourself saving all of your fished-up Joja Cans just to see his face light up. Sam is sweet and kind and nice and just a little dumb and funny and currently doing a really shitty job of sneaking out of his house.

"Can you be a little quieter?" you hiss from the bushes, wincing as his knee hits the windowsill for the second time.

You're not worried about Kent. In fact, he's watching the two of you right now from his usual spot underneath the front yard tree, the smallest frown marring his features. The last time you were rushing to avoid the 2AM fine, you made a point of stopping and asking Kent for his blessing. Less because it mattered and more because he often sat here until late, and you weren't sure if you could avoid both his insomniac habits and the town's curfew.

"His mom leaves the house around ten," Kent murmurs. "Make sure to set an alarm before you get distracted with playing your video games."

"No worries, sir, I'm up by sunrise," you say, eyes not leaving your boyfriend. He's finally making his way down the makeshift rope ladder. "Can you please teach him how to sneak out properly next time?"

Over your shoulder, Kent snorts softly. "Sure."

It's been years since either of you were a teenager, but Sam breathes a youthful energy back into you, taking your hand as soon as he hits the ground and running off with one last glance at his dad. You keep up with his long strides, the wind whipping at your straw hat and clothes, and have to suppress a giggle as he nearly trips over a rock. He's really bad at this. You slip an extra glowstone ring onto his thumb.

"That's the first time I actually made it out undetected," he says, a laugh bubbling in his chest. "I need to tell Seb tomorrow."

"How does it usually go?"

"Well, I barely get out the front door—"

See? A little dumb. You bite back a silly comment, shooting him a smile that he returns instead.

The journey from his house to yours isn't far—go past Leah's cozy cabin, take a right at Marnie's expansive ranch, follow the newly laid stone path until you see the telltale stable—but it's long enough for your floating moods to sink into something akin to anticipation. At the stoop, you drop your keys once, then twice. It doesn't help that Sam's trailing his fingers along your sides, dropping kisses along your shoulders.

"You should just leave the door unlocked next time," he suggests when you finally get the key in. You barely managed to pull together the plan for tonight, and he's already talking about next time. "No one's out here this late."

"Except us."

"Except us," he echoes.

You kick your shoes off, but you're not sure where they land because Sam has you pressed against the closed door, lips moving against yours, clumsy in his haste. His hands are tight on your hips as he pulls you into him. You're tempted to lose yourself in the urgency.

"Sam, wait," you manage. He hums in acknowledgement, moving to brush his nose along your jaw. "I need to take a shower first. I've been foraging in Cindersap all day."

"You could be covered in slime goop, and I'd still find you hot," he says with so much sincerity your knees almost buckle.

"Thanks, but it's not a matter of whether or not I'm attractive." You push his shoulders squarely. He yields. "I feel gross. It'll take five, ten minutes tops. You can wait upstairs for me."

"And what if I get lost?" He raises his eyebrows. "I feel like I should follow you to the shower."

You roll your eyes. "Heel, boy. I'll be right there, okay?"

His excitement is endearing. Between the sneaking around and him nearing cumming in his pants from a heated kiss, you don't feel like a pair of twenty-somethings who are three and a half seasons into their relationship. And something about that makes your heart soar. He always finds a way to make you fall in love like it's the first day all over again. As promised, you're done washing off in seven minutes. For a second, you entertain the idea of walking into your bedroom with only a towel, just to gauge his reaction, but you throw on a tank top and shorts instead, foregoing underwear since it'll all be gone anyway.

You find him on the edge of your bed, sorting your mail into two piles on your nightstand. He looks up with a smile.

"JojaMart's having a sale on seeds," he reports. "You can use my employee discount and get a little more off."

"Yeah?" You step between his open legs and brush blond hair away from his forehead. Your beautiful, radiant boyfriend. "How much off?"

"I don't remember. Like 10%, I think?"

"Just ten?" You shimmy your shorts down an inch. He follows their journey like a hawk. "I thought it was more than that."

"Maybe it was twenty, I'm not sure."

"That's all? A shame." You push them down further, exposing your hips, and his eyes light up as he catches on.

He wets his lips and says, voice strained, "No, it was 100%. Definitely completely off."

You let him tug your shorts down, and when they pool around your ankles, you kick them off. His gaze flickers between your exposed skin and your face, impossibly reverent. He doesn't pray to Yoba like his family, but his expression, here and now, is one of a worshiper. Devoted and devout until the end of time.

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouth open to swallow your moans, and falls back onto your sheets. Your legs straddle his hips, and you whimper as he ruts his growing bulge against the apex of your legs. The material of his sweatpants drag against you—you definitely need to throw it in the laundry before he leaves.

"This wet already, baby? The night's barely started," he mumbles against your lips. Under normal circumstances, the stain on his pants would embarrass you, but anticipation thrums in your veins. The hands on your waist force you to still, and it's pathetic how close you are to begging him to keep going. "As much as I love it, I'm not going to last long like this and I want to finish in you tonight. Okay?"

"Okay," you manage, "but you better keep your word."

He laughs. "I always do. Now how much of a discount do I need to promise if I want you to sit on my face?"

.

.

You're a sight that Sam can never tire of. He isn't the wordy kind of person, but if he was, he'd likely wax poetic about how beautiful you look right now. Something about how the crescent moon spills from the open window and falls over your skin like liquid silver.

Huh. That actually wasn't bad. Maybe writing lyrics for the band has made him better at this sort of thing. He settles on the pile of pillows on your bed, murmuring encouragements as you shift forward and straddle his face.

"Are you sure?" you're asking for the third time, and he has to hold back from rolling his eyes.

He tries his best to look you in the face, which is hard considering everything else tempting his gaze. Yoba, this is a perspective that he needs to get more often. "Babe," he says, trailing kisses along your thigh. "Seriously. I already said it before, but this is exactly what I want. You're stunning. Amazing. Perfect. I'd rather die between your legs than anywhere—" And the rest of his argument is lost on his tongue as you finally take a seat and Sam considers quitting his day job at JojaMart to do this forever.

He inhales the dampness of your pussy, flattens his tongue, and basks in the way you keel forward, fingers curling around the headboard to keep steady. A shaky breath from you and he sets out in earnest, one hand digging into your ass, the other skimming its way up your body until it lands on your chest. He's not the type to curse much either, but fuck, your tits are amazing. He grasps at them firmly, just how you like it, until you yank your top over your head and he can finally get a full view.

His hands move again, this time to spread you further apart as his tongue laps at your dripping cunt, and if your growing cries are any indication, he's proud to say that he's gotten good at this lately.

Can you be a little quieter? he's tempted to echo the complaint you had at his house earlier, but he holds back from teasing for two reasons. One, he actually hates it when you bite back your moans. Your volume is exactly why you can't do this at his place, and he relishes in the way your noises go straight to his dick, currently straining to be freed from his sweats. And two, truthfully, he doesn't think he can separate from you long enough to say anything.

So he expresses his pleasure with guttural groans and pants as you grind down into his face, your clit clipping his nose in a way that has you squirming in his hold. You're fucking amazing, and he hopes you know this. He feels like he doesn't tell you that enough.

"So good, a-ah, Sam, fuck...just like that. Keep goi—oh my—"

Your pace stutters when his lips finally suction around your clit, and his name becomes a breathless mantra on your tongue as he unravels you on his. You rock against his face, previous hesitation forgotten as you chase after your high.

"'m so close," you whimper, your hands kneading your chest desperately. "So, so close—Sam, please—almost there."

Without warning, he sinks a finger into you, the metal of his glowstone ring cold against your flushed folds, and it's enough to send you over the edge. A flurry of broken curses spill over as you ride it out, and Sam swears he can drown in your pussy, lapping at your orgasm until you push off of him and slide onto your back.

"You're too good at this for a newbie," you insist, voice petulant as you catch your breath.

He wants to kiss you so bad, make you taste yourself on the slick that runs down his chin, but he cleans himself up and waits beside you patiently until you tug at his hand. A sign that you're ready for him to make good on his promise.

#stardew valley smut #stardew smut #sdv smut #sdv sam smut #stardew sam smut #stardew valley sam smut #a3risbaby.fandom

[blueicequeen19]

Hey! Could you do dark step dad jj where the reader sneaks a boy in and jj gets pissed and punishes her? Please and thank you!

Daddy’s Girl

Warnings: step-cest, dub-con, cheating, unprotected sex, spitting

I hear my bedroom window open and I can't but smile as I pretend to be asleep in my thousand dollar lingerie. I know it's Noah. We've been fucking on and off for years, until my new step dad came around. Security cams and motion lights were installed, along with nailing my window shut. Finally, he made me move to the 2nd floor spare bedroom. Like Noah can't scale a tree or find a ladder. He's been a pain in my ass ever since he came into my life. Always a damn pussy block and ruining any type of good time I try to have.

I'm older now and I'm done playing games. I see the way he watches me, his gaze always darkening because he can't look away. My outfits became skimpier and my bikinis are more sting than bikini but he seemed to have the restraint of a monk. He wouldn't cave. Not even when he sat down at the dinner table and asked what there was to eat and I perched my happy ass right there in front of him with my legs spread wide in a tiny sundress with no panties. He'd looked for a long time. But never touched. If not for the rapid raise and fall of his chest, I'd have thought he had a heart attack and died right there. But no. He threw the plate across the room, yanked me off the table, and sent me to my room. Ive never had to work this hard for a man in my life. It pissed me off but also excited me. His needs weren't being met. Not with mommy dearest in a coma. So it was only a matter of time.

I listen as Noah strips and gets into bed with me, rolling me onto my back and hovering on top of me. I give a fake sleepy smile as he dives in to kiss me, his fingers running down the length of my body and finding the open crotch of my lingerie.

"I've missed you." Noah whispers, dipping two fingers into his mouth before sliding them back between my legs since I'm not wet. He spreads my slit, pressing on my clit until I buck against him, giving a fake loud moan.

"Fuck me." I whisper into his ear, his hard cock was already wedged against my hip. Noah moves into position, thrusting himself against my slit when the door to bedroom flies open and smacks the wall with enough force to knock down some pictures. Noah yelps, scrambling off me and taking the blankets but I fake innocence as I stare at the dark silhouette of my step father. The steam was practically rolling off him as he stands there with his arms crossed over his sculpted bare chest, blonde hair hanging in his eyes, in nothing but his sleep pants.

"Mr Maybank, I'm--." Noah is on his feet, just barely pulling on his boxers when step daddy darts forward and takes Noah's arm.

"I see you here again, I'll shoot you between the eyes." He snarls, hauling Noah from the room. I sit back and listen as they make their way down the stairs and I finally hear the front door slam shut. I sigh, getting comfortable in my mess of pillows when I feel him standing in the doorway.

My eyes meet his in the darkness as he slowly closes the door, trapping us both in here. Now I'm wet.

"What did I tell you about sneaking boys into my house?" He finally says, his deep, angry voice making my whole body clench. I look up to see him standing at the foot of my bed, the tent in his pants so painfully obvious.

"That I would be punished." I say softly. There's a pause as the air between us seems to thicken with pent up need and aggression. The last bit of restraint he had is about to snap and I'm on the receiving end of it. I start to spread my legs further when he lunges forward, grabbing my ankles and hauling me to the edge of the bed, making me yelp. I barely blink and he's on his knees before me, his large hand splayed across my stomach as he stares down at my bare pussy.

"Did he touch you here?" His voice is a low growl and I let out a shaky breath, my pussy seeming to grow more and more wet with each passing second. His mouth was inches away from where I so desperately needed him.

"A little." I rasp and he growls. Actually fucking growls before spitting on my pussy. I gasp but then his hand is there, three thick fingers smearing his saliva with my arousal from one hole to the next. I jump every time he nudges my clit or my pussy entrance. He was toying with me. Like I've been doing to him.

“You wanted my attention and now you fucking have it.” JJ snaps, dipping the tip of one finger inside me and quickly withdrawing. Enough to make me fucking crazy with need.

“You’re done flaunting yourself around like a whore for others to see. You can be my whore in my bed.” JJ suddenly flips me onto my stomach, my legs hanging off the bed.

“You asked for this. So know that I’ll never be able to stop.” I hear him say, then his mouth is on me. I moan loudly as his tongue works me from one hole to the next. I fist my sheets as he feasts on me like no one ever had before. My toes curl before I’m even ready and I cum with a cry, my body quaking as he keeps going. I try to clamp my legs closed for a tiny bit of relief but his massive hands are there, holding me open as he licks and sucks and bites my flesh.

I cum again, my knees giving out and I drop down onto my bed as I shake uncontrollably. I try to move away but he’s not done with me. He flips me back over, coming down on top of me in the middle of the bed. I look down to see his pants are gone and his cock is as big and intimidating as I’d hoped.

“After I fuck your pussy, I’m going to fuck your mouth.” His large body pins me in place as the thick head of his cock nudges my entrance. I suck in a breath as I try to prepare myself to take the biggest cock I’d ever had.

“Then, when both are full of my cum, I’m going to fuck your ass.” I whimper when the crown slips inside me and he grips my jaw, not letting me look away.

“I will own all your holes tonight and every night from here on out.” He thrusts inside me, making me scream with the tight fit. I don’t tear my eyes away from his as he reaches something so deep, it hurts. I already know I’ll be sore from this. Let alone with everything else he plans to do. He shudders against me, his eyes squeezing shut for just a moment before he slides half way out and slams back in. I’m so wet

“I own you. Not the other way around. Don’t bait me again. You’re daddy’s girl now.” JJ snarls, thrusting hard to prove his point. My hands fly up to his back, my nails digging in as he starts to fuck me hard. I can’t control the sounds leaving my mouth or how every thrusts sends me further up the bed just for him to drag back. His hand stays on my jaw, his lips hovering over mine as he fucks me.

“Open your mouth.” He orders. I instantly comply, too lost to pleasure to fight him on anything. He spits in my mouth and I moan, my eyes rolling back as it triggers another orgasm from me before I can even swallow.

It was so.. dirty. So dominating.

“Fuck.” He bites out, his control finally starting to slip as he fucks me faster. I don’t even think about it as my head jerks forward and I smash my lips to his. I always wanted to feel those lips on mine.

He hesitates kissing me back for only a second before his mouth opens and I dive in with my tongue. The deep sounding moans that leave him are music to my ears as I fuck his mouth with my tongue, my nails slicing into his back. I feel the moment he cums, his body tense on top of mine as his warmth spills out of me. I clutch his shaking shoulders as he comes down, licking my lips. I wanted more.

JJ’s gaze darkens again and he pulls out, hoisting himself up my body and onto my chest. I’m startled when he shoves his cock in my face but I knew this was coming.

“Two more holes to go. Open up.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #obx2 #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #rudy pankow #dark!jj maybank #dark!fic

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Home for Christmas

Pairing: John “soap” mactavish x reader

Warnings: pregnancy, angst, major character death, bittersweet ending

You were in the throws of decorating for soaps upcoming return and Christmas right around the corner, when you heard a soft knocking at you door, quickly climbing down the small step ladder you waddle your way to the door excitement bubbling in your chest wondering if somehow Johnny was able to get home earlier than expected mind running with thoughts of finishing decorating the nursery with him, putting up the tree, and doing all the sappy Christmas stuff you both have grown to love throughout the years.

Oh how wrong you were. Flinging open the door bright smile on your face only to be met by Price and Ghost standing before you with somber looks in their eyes. Not wanting to expect the worst you look past them hoping to catch a glimpse of Johnnys familiar mohawk and boisterous voice “Where’s Johnny” you ask looking at the two men before you “did he take a separate car? Got held up by paperwork?” The two men share a quick look before stepping inside leading you to the couch where they help you sit down.

“Sweetheart” Ghost begins as he looks away not ready to see your excitement turn to grief at what he’s about to say “I’ll take it from here Simon” Price assures the man patting the lieutenants shoulder before taking your hands in his scarred ones “Price, Simon, your scaring me where’s Johnny” you ask already feeling a pit of dread in your stomach. “Lass” Price begins “Soap- John, he isn’t coming home” he squeezes your hand gently “did he get held up or something did the mission extend?” You tried to come up with any reason as to why Johnny’s not coming home other than the one you dread the most. “Johnny was killed in action sweetheart, he would’ve tore the world apart with his bare hands if it meant coming home to you and him” he points to your stomach. You place a gentle hand on your stomach where you and johnnys son is safely nestled not knowing that he’ll never meet his dad.

“Lass” Proce inquired as he reached out to rub your arm “you still with us?” Everything sounded like it was underwater your mind running a mile a minute Johnnys not coming home, he was killed in action, you’ll raise the child you tried so hard for alone, you’ll never have another Christmas with him. “Sweetheart” Ghosts call of your name snapped you out of it “is there anything we can do to make this easier” you shook your head mouth dry, words caught in your throat.

After that day Price and Ghost had been there everyday to make sure you were eating well, drinking water, making it to your appointments just like Soap would’ve done. “It’s time lass” price murmured as he and ghost waited by the car door wearing full black, “coming” you whisper as you get out of the vehicle Johnnys ashes clutched in your arms black veil covering your face “we’ve got you sweetheart” Ghost murmured as he lead you towards the cliff side where Gaz was waiting “rest easy soap” ghost grunted eyes staring out at the crashing waves “goodbye my darling” you whisper voice cracking as you released his ashes watching as the waves swallowed them up. It was almost comforting knowing Johnny made it home where he belonged.

Not the best I made myself sad :(

#john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x pregnant reader #soap x reader angst #john mactavish x reader angst #cod modern warfare #cod mwii