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cinnbar-bun · 4 months

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Kiss the Swordsman (Mihawk x Reader)

Summary: Inspired by "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid.

Perona is frustrated that Mihawk won't confess his feelings for you, so she hires Zoro to take part in a scheme to get Mihawk to admit his love for you.

Word Count: ~2.9k

Rating: SFW

You can read this on my AO3 here!

Perona glared deeply at you and Mihawk, who were quietly sitting and eating breakfast. You passed him the butter without him asking, and he refilled your cup while you were cutting your food.

Zoro raised a brow as he stopped shoveling his pancakes into his mouth. “Why’re you so angry?”

Perona’s frown grew fiercer as she crossed her arms. “I’m mad Mihawk hasn’t made a move!”

Zoro glanced at Mihawk, who was taking a sip of his coffee.

“I dunno, he looks like he’s moving just fine,” Zoro shrugged. Perona smacked his shoulders.

“Not like that, idiot!” She shouted. Zoro picked his ear and continued to eat.

“Dunno what you mean then.”

“Ugh! You’re so clueless!” Perona pointed at you and Mihawk. “It’s so obvious they like each other!”

Zoro swallowed another pancake whole and shook his head. “I know you didn’t just say that while I’m eating.”

“Well I did!”

“Ugh… whatever,” Zoro sighed. “Besides, what are you talking about? They don’t like each other.”

Perona narrowed her eyes and forced Zoro to look at Mihawk. “You’re blind. Look at how he looks at (Y/n)!”

Mihawk, at the moment, was focused on his breakfast and Zoro grit his teeth.

“He’s not even looking at them…”

“Y-you just missed it!” Perona’s cheeks turned red as she wagged her finger. “Trust me, he stares at them a lot!!”

“So what? Maybe (Y/n)’s just got a stain or something. What do you want me to do about it?” Zoro tiredly responded.

“I’m not asking you to do anything ab-,” her eyes lit up as she gasped loudly, making Zoro jolt. “That’s it! You’re a genius, Zoro!”

“I am…?” He asked, unsure if he was going to like her next few sentences.

“Mhm! You just gave me a new idea! We go make Mihawk confess his love for (Y/n)!”

“But does he even-“ Perona cut Zoro off by placing her index finger to his lips.

“Shhhh… trust me. It’s foolproof.”

---

“So, tell me again how this is supposed to make Mihawk confess?” Zoro asked as he held the shovel in his hand.

“Duh! (Y/n) will just fall into this hole and maybe get injured or something,” Perona proudly smiled as she covered the hole with a net of leaves. “Mihawk will swoop in and realize seeing the love of his life fall into a hole was too much, then he’ll look into (Y/n)’s eyes and be so emotional over their safety and have to confess!”

“I don’t think that’s gonna pull a confession out of him.”

“What do you know, lughead?! Have you ever dated someone before?”

“No,” Zoro scratched his chin. “Neither have you.”

“Well that’s just- um, ah- just hush! Shhh! I hear them coming.”

Perona dragged Zoro behind a tree to peek out and see her victims. Mihawk and you were clad in your usual farming attire, with you carrying a bucket of compost for your garden. Perona rubbed her hands and chuckled, waiting for the glorious moment to come when…

“Oh, wait, Mihawk, there’s something over there,” you pointed out.

“Hm? Ah…” Mihawk hummed in acknowledgment as you both began walking away from the path where the hole was. Perona gawked and gripped the bark of the tree.

“No! Those two-!”

You and Mihawk noticed a small burrow close to the field of root veggies. “A rabbit, I believe,” Mihawk murmurs, crouching down to the small nest. Before he can even take a look, a grown rabbit bolts out of the hole and dashes under Mihawk’s legs.

You jump as the rabbit runs past you, and Mihawk recovers to quickly chase after it. The swordsman is fast and swift, able to keep up with the animal, while you’re struggling to close the gap due to the heavy bucket in your hands.

“And, got you-“ Mihawk leans forward to grab the rabbit, but as he does so, his foot makes contact with the nest of leaves that Perona hid the hole with. “Agh!”

Mihawk lets out a loud yelp as the rabbit slips from his fingers and he plummets to the bottom of the (thankfully) shallow hole.

You drop the bucket and rush over to him, looking down at him inside the hole.

“Mihawk! Are you alright?”

He dusts himself off, examining how his white shirt is now stained with brown mud and crumbled leaves.

“Yes. I’m quite alright,” he answers smoothly, as if he didn’t just fall face first into a hole.

“Do you need a hand?” You ask, extending your hand to him.

“Thank you, (Y/n),” he accepts, pulling himself up with ease. “Are you alright? You’re not injured, are you?”

You shake your head. “No, not at all. I wasn’t the one who fell into a hole, anyways. I’ll go check on you back at the castle.”

“Much appreciated. But first-“ he craned his neck to Perona and Zoro’s hiding spot, causing them to shriek and fully hide themselves behind the trunk. His hawk eyes narrowed at them as he slowly made his way over to them.

It all happened in a blur, as suddenly the two were lifted by their collars as Mihawk made them face the fields.

“Since you two love playing in the dirt so much, I’ll allow you the opportunity to till each and every field today. And while you’re at it, fill that hole again,” he stated coldly, his voice giving no room for argument or interpretation.

Perona and Zoro gulped at the massive garden.

“If you two try this stunt again, I will have you become fertilizer. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Mihawk,” Perona and Zoro nodded and weakly gave in. Given how Mihawk could be, this was perhaps his form of mercy to them. Mihawk dropped them and walked back to you, examining your hands.

“Ah, you have a small mark. Next time, I’ll carry the bucket for you,” Mihawk commented.

“It’s not a problem, Mihawk. I can do it just fine,” you chuckle. “Come on now, let’s go make sure you’re not bleeding.”

“I most certainly would not be injured from that small of a hole.”

---

Perona growled as she crossed off yet another idea from her list.

“Maybe you should give up,” Zoro stated nonchalantly as he was taking a sip of his drink.

“I can’t! I can’t, because if I don’t, Mihawk is never gonna do it and he’ll die alone like a boring old man!” Perona sobbed. “He can’t keep hiding his feelings! I just don’t get why none of these have worked…”

“Gee, I wonder why injuring (Y/n), burning books, breaking glass, and ruining dinner would make Mihawk not confess,” Zoro deadpanned.

“Shut up, smartass! I just… I just know that deep down, (Y/n)’s the best thing in his life, and I’m not letting them walk away thinking he doesn’t care!”

“That’s surprisingly caring of you.”

“I’m gonna get violent!” Perona stomped her foot.

“Just take it easy! You’ve been bombarding them nonstop and making us have to do so many chores. I’m not gonna clean any more dishes because of your matchmaking.”

Perona huffed and nodded. She was exhausted from all the punishments Mihawk gave her after the many stunts she pulled, and manual labor was so not cute. She slid to the floor.

“This is hopeless…” Perona mumbled. Zoro saw how dejected she looked and sighed.

“Look, I’m not a romance expert, but why don’t we try something a bit smaller? Ya know? Something that doesn’t end up with (Y/n) or Mihawk getting something broken?”

“Like what?”

“Well, I dunno, I figured you’d tell me what people to be romantic. Damn, if only I had that cook here…”

“Cook?” Her eyes lit up. “Cook! That’s it! We can make them a candlelit dinner!”

---

Another of Perona’s shenanigans. Mihawk sighs as he opens a letter that tells him to get dressed and be outside in the courtyard.

“Why did she sign it as (Y/n)…” he asks himself, confused why Perona would think he wouldn’t recognize what your handwriting looked like. Regardless, considering she seemingly put so much effort into this, he plays along and does as told, careful to “dress up nicely” as Perona so eloquently wrote. He fixed his hair and made sure to brush his facial hair before heading to the courtyard.

“Now, Perona, I hope you have a good-,” he stops when he sees you’re the person standing, waiting in the courtyard. You look breathtaking, elegantly dressed up in an outfit that fits you perfectly. For a moment, Mihawk forgets what he was doing and trying to say. You chuckle and step closer to him.

“You got her letter, too?” You ask. Mihawk nods.

“I’m not sure what she’s thinking now.”

“Neither do I. But it’s been a while since I wore something like this, it’s a nice change of pace.”

Mihawk stares at you unemotionally, and you’re worried he thinks poorly of what you just said or how you look.

“Yes… it’s a lovely change of pace,” he adds, his face softening. “You look stunning, (Y/n).”

The compliment makes you smile, and he feels his face get warmer at seeing your gorgeous smile his way.

“Come, let’s take a seat, I’m sure Perona has some plans for us,” he offers his hand. You take it and he glides swiftly to the small, white table with a beautiful candelabra in the center. Mihawk pulls out your chair and helps you sit, like a true gentleman.

“I’m honestly surprised she’d done all of this,” you comment. “I wonder why.”

“I could hazard a guess,” Mihawk replied, before Zoro arrived in a tux.

“Evening, you two,” he states, holding a notepad. “The uh-“ he flips through the notepad and you and Mihawk see an obvious script that Perona wrote for him. You hold in your laughter while Mihawk looks unamused. “Y-yeah, sorry, the dining room proudly presents… your dinner!”

Zoro turns around and makes a motion to grab something, only to grab air. “Wait, where’s the food?”

Mihawk pours you a drink as Zoro fumbles with the notepad and flounders to find the cart full of food.

“It seems there’s been a technical difficulty,” Mihawk mumbles.

“Oh, be easy on them,” you tease.

Perona stomps to where Zoro is and smacks his head with the notepad.

“I told you to put the cart there!” She hisses, you and Mihawk are able to hear her perfectly. “Now they’re going to have their dinner ruined!”

“Hey! I’m sorry! I thought it was here!” Zoro whisper-yells back. He thankfully finds the food cart this time and pushes it towards the table. He then places a silver dish in front of each of you and removes the lid. “There we go! Dinner!”

“Appetizer,” Perona corrects.

“Appetizer,” Zoro amends.

“Thank you. May we have some privacy?”

“Ohhhhh, of couuuurse!” Perona nods, too obvious in her scheming. She grabs Zoro as the two of them hide in a nearby bush.

“They do realize we know where they went, right?” Mihawk whispers to you so they can’t hear.

“Just let them have this. They worked very hard for it.”

“I understand, but their behavior is quite…”

“Intrusive?” You add.

“Very much so,” he sighs as he drinks. “It took me until Perona broke three cups to understand this was deliberate.”

“For a bit, I thought they were trying to kill me,” you joke.

“They’d know better than to try such a thing,” Mihawk shakes his head.

“Although, knowing they’re trying to pull this off makes it a bit sweeter,” you comment.

“What do you mean?” Mihawk raises a brow.

“It’s sweet that they’re trying to do this for us. It’s rare we get to spend time together like this nowadays. Usually it’s us taking care of them and training them, but now they’re making us a candlelit dinner.”

Mihawk’s lips curl into a grin. “You are correct. Even though I would not have done it like this, it’s still rather charming.”

You and Mihawk quietly chatted throughout the three course-meal. Occasionally, you heard the grunts and arguing between Perona and Zoro from their hiding spot in the bushes. Mihawk would urge you to ignore them as you two laughed and reminisced throughout the evening. Seeing Mihawk relax more and more as he continued talking to you was a treat for Perona and Zoro.

“I think… I think I’m starting to see what you mean,” the swordsman said.

“See! Told ya!” Perona smirked. “Look at how he’s melting at their words and smiling.”

“I didn’t think he could do that,” Zoro replied, impressed at how you managed to make Mihawk’s lips form a grin.

“They’re almost done eating, now for phase two!” Perona pumped her fists and shot up from the bush. You and Mihawk glanced at her as she floated towards the woods, with Zoro following after her.

“What do you think they’re up to now?”

“I feel as if I really do not want to know,” Mihawk sighed. You two waited patiently, until Perona and Zoro came back with a pack of Humandrills. Your eyes widened as you gasped, while Mihawk stayed silent, waiting to see what would happen next. Perona forced the Humandrills to stop before she pulled out a box from a nearby bush.

“Now do what we said!” She demanded as she shoved a violin to a Humandrill. The Humandrill began to make disapproving noises at her commands. She gave a few more Humandrills other instruments before she pointed at Mihawk.

The Humandrills looked up the Warlord and then forced a nervous grin and nodded, beginning to play their instruments in sync. You were amazed as they played a slow, romantic song.

“I…I didn’t know they could do that,” you mumble.

“Neither did I,” Mihawk stared in awe. You were so entranced by the makeshift orchestra that you didn’t notice Mihawk looking at you, as if debating with himself. He heard Perona and Zoro clear their throats and glanced to them. Perona and Zoro pointed at you and nodded.

“I guess this was their plan from the start…” Mihawk whispered before he stood up and cleared his throat. “(Y/n).”

“Hm? Yes, Mihawk?” You asked, looking into his eyes with an expecting expression. He extended his hand to you.

“Would you like to dance?” He inquired, his eyes briefly moving away from yours. A bright smile was on your face as you nodded and took his hand.

“I’d love nothing more,” you answer, and for a second, you think you notice a red blush appear on his cheeks.

You two head to the center and Mihawk gently pulls you in closer, an arm around your waist as your other hands are clasped together. He sways with you, careful to not be too forceful or rough. The Humandrills are getting more excited, along with Zoro and Perona, as some of them begin to hum and vocalize.

Your smile is bright and beautiful as you look radiant, even in the night sky.

“I hope you are enjoying tonight.” “I am, very much. I won’t forget this night for a long time,” you reply. Mihawk closes his eyes and nods.

“I don’t think I will, either.”

He twirls you around as you let out a laugh from the thrilling motion. You two continue to look into each other’s eyes, the unspoken feelings you have for the other clear to the both of you. Despite being in such a vulnerable position, Mihawk finds the feeling rather enjoyable. Having you in his arms, dancing underneath the stars to some beautiful music after a lovely meal- he hasn’t felt this carefree in a long time. You lean closer to him and Mihawk enjoys how you’re trying to get his attention. But you already have it.

He stops dancing, keeping you both locked in an intense eye contact with his arm around your waist. It’s only you two now, as Mihawk gulps and slowly leans his face to you, silently asking for you to reciprocate. You close your eyes and do the same, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

It’s not lecherous or sloppy, but a gentle kiss with you that says everything he cannot verbalize.

He loves you, loves you so much that he can’t help but be so gentle and yearn for you. How he wishes to protect you and continue to have your presence within his life. How he loves your smile, your voice, your words, your everything that makes you, you in this lonely world.

He wishes to say more through touch, but the need for air arises as you both move away.

“I love you,” you say first. He presses kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, too.”

Perona and Zoro clap at your confessions and Mihawk remembers that he’s in front of others.

“Perona, Zoro,” he calls, his voice low. The two jolt nervously, unsure of what he’s going to do. His lips curve upwards as he glances at them and says a simple phrase, “Thank you.”

#one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #divider by saradika #x reader

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livyjh · 8 months

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Hunger

Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: on a patrol near Jackson with Joel, you run out of food and have to make do with whatever you can find. Eating the wrong thing makes you both feel… different.

A/N: Here’s another one shot unrelated to Temptation :) I really wanted to write a sex pollen thing with Joel and here it is!!

Warnings: sex pollen/sex poison, smut, dub-con based on the nature of the sex pollen/poison trope, talk about being hungry/eating, unprotected p in v (don’t do this), masturbation, rough sex, angry fucking, being mean to each other, Joel calls you a slut, choking, hair pulling, quick mention of blood/taste of blood, nipple play, spanking with object, anal play, creampie.

Joel Miller Masterlist

****************************************************

“I’m fucking starving.” You sigh, walking alongside Joel in the forest.

You were on day two of a three day patrol route, tonight you’d stay in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Tomorrow you’d return to Jackson.

“Drink some water. It’ll hold ya over.” Joel sighs back at you. “Or pick some mushrooms.”

You scoff at him. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” He chuckles quietly.

You roll your eyes, trudging through the humid spring weather. “Are there any edible flowers out here? Shit, I’d eat tree bark at this point.”

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t know much about the plants out here.”

You frown. Until…

“Oh my god.” You gasp and run to a bush you spotted about 10 yards away.

Joel calls after you, using your name to try and get your attention. But it doesn’t work, you were laser focused.

On a tall bush, almost as tall as you, there were berries. Ones that looked… like a raspberry, or a blackberry, but they were orange. You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but, you feel like you remember maybe eating these before.

“Joel!” You wave him over and he walks faster to get to you.

“What?” He sighs, putting a hand on his hip.

“These are edible.” You smile at him, then look at the bush, then back at Joel. “I think.”

He rolls his eyes and begins to walk past you.

“Joel, I know you’re just as hungry as I am. And I swear I remember eating berries just like this before. They should be fine.” You reasoned with him.

He turns back to face you. “Fine. Eat a couple.” He shrugs.

You gulp and stare at the berries for a few seconds before plucking a few and putting them in your mouth. You start to chew and soon scrunch your nose. They’re tart. Not quite sour, but very tart. You couldn’t give a shit at this point.

“They’re good.” You smile at Joel and pull more berries from the bush.

He walks over and picks a berry, bringing it up to his nose to smell it before finally putting it in his mouth. He starts to chew. “These are not good.”

“Quit complaining. It’s food. If those goddamn squirrels hadn’t gotten into your pack that you just left lying around for an hour…”

“You’re the one who fell asleep while you were s’posed to be watchin’ our shit, I was hunting.” He sneers at you.

“That’s because you talk in your sleep and I barely got two hours last night!” You scoff at him.

“Swear to god, if I die by some fuckin’ berries after all the shit I-“

“You’re not gonna die, Joel. Don’t be such a pussy.” You laugh and keep plucking berries and putting them into your mouth.

He sighs and breaks off a small branch, picking a couple more berries and eating them. “Reminds me of pineapple… except, not good.”

You shake your head and keep eating, ignoring his complaining for the next ten minutes while you both gorge yourself on the fruit.

“Should be getting to that safe house in the next hour.” Joel nods at you as you both continue walking, bellies full and satisfied.

A half hour passes and you feel like your skin is too hot. Your clothes are too hot. It was humid, but… it was only maybe 60° out. You shouldn’t be sweating like this.

Joel was on the same page, having taken his light jacket off only ten minutes into continuing your walk to the cabin.

“Joel…” you speak cautiously.

“I don’t feel good either.” He sighs.

“What should we-“ you start.

“Just gotta let the body process it. Or reject it. Whichever comes first.”

You both let out long sighs and keep walking.

15 more minutes and there’s a dull ache in the pit of your stomach. Lower than that, actually. It feels like where your uterus is.

You notice that Joel is breathing heavy, sounding more and more labored.

“Down… uh,” Joel glances at you and then stares for a second. “Down this trail here.” He points to a spot a few yards up where the main road diverts to a slim trail, barely noticeable if you hadn’t been looking for it. It was overgrown.

You nod at him, feeling warmth bloom in your chest and face. You follow him down the trail for a couple minutes when you come across a large fallen tree.

Joel climbs over it easily with his long legs. You? Not so much.

You struggle for a moment as you try and get your footing on a branch start on the side of the log, but you can’t.

“Jesus, give me a fucking hand, will you?” You snap at Joel.

He rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to help you over the tree.

The second you grab his hand, you feel a jolt of electricity run up your arm and straight to your core. You couldn’t pinpoint what was going on. You felt irritable… angry… but all you could think about after getting over that log, was how Joel’s skin felt against yours.

You approached the cabin just a couple minutes later. You both walk inside and set down your bags before Joel disappears into the bathroom.

You hear the faucet start to run. You’d forgotten this place was connected to water… just didn’t have a working water heater.

You sat down in a recliner in the living room and involuntarily moaned when a spring under the thin recliner padding pressed against your heat through your jeans.

“Fuck.” You breathe.

You wait only ten to fifteen seconds before you figure Joel is gonna be awhile and you stick your hand down your pants. You start rubbing your clit furiously, hoping for some fucking relief before Joel comes back.

You’d go upstairs to the loft style bedroom so at least there would be a delay in Joel catching you like this, but you think rubbing your thighs together while going up stairs would make you cum anyways.

“Fuck it.” You whisper to yourself, dipping two fingers into your cunt. This is probably the wettest you’ve ever been.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d soaked through both your panties and your jeans by now.

You hear a low grunt come from the bathroom over the sound of the faucet and it only spurs you on. Was it because you were horny out of your mind, or did that sound sexual?

A moment later, the faucet turns off and you quickly pull your hand out of your pants and wipe the wetness on the side of the recliner. Just in time too, as Joel walks out of the bathroom a second later.

He spots you on the recliner, leaned back, eyes hooded, legs spread, and something in his face changes.

He looks furious, but… helpless.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, the sensation making your whole body tingle. You look Joel up and down, feeling more wetness pool between your legs.

God, you normally didn’t get along great with him, but… you’d kill a hundred men just to have his cock inside you right now.

“Something’s wrong.” Are the first words said in that moment. Spoken by Joel.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You breathe hard, standing up.

“Don’t you fuckin’ mouth off to me.” Joel spits, stepping closer and pointing a finger at you.

You push his finger out of your face, another jolt of electricity moving through you at the skin contact. “What are you gonna do about it, old man?” You seeth.

Joel then grabs you by the throat, pushing you against the nearest wall. You can’t help but whimper at the feeling, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Shut up.” He frowns.

“Make me.” You test him.

His grip on your throat tightens, his other hand moving up to grab the hair on the back of your head. He tilts your face up by pulling down on your hair and you squeeze your thighs together, moaning despite him choking you.

You reach down into your own pants again, needing just a little relief from the searing pain and pleasure coursing through your clit.

Joel whimpers at the sight of you, his face darting down to yours and crushing your lips together.

You growl into his mouth and bite his bottom lip, and then you taste blood. He grunts and pulls back, looking down at the tank top you were in, grabbing the front with both hands and ripping it from top to bottom. You shrug the ripped clothing off, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra as you look up at him.

His eyes are damn near black. Pupils blown as wide as you’ve ever seen. He’s panting and leans down to kiss you again, despite you having bit his lip too hard on the first one.

His hands drift up your hips and over your breasts, quickly stripping you of your bra. He leans down immediately, taking your right nipple into his mouth and biting just enough to get you to squeak out a moan.

“Joel-“ you cry out as his fingers tweak your left nipple.

“What?” He asks harshly.

“Fuck me, goddamnit. Don’t have time for this shit.” You snap back.

“Take your fucking clothes off.” He barks the order as he backs up and starts to unbutton his own shirt.

He watches you with dark eyes as you slip your boots off, then your jeans, then your mostly soaked panties.

By the time he’s got his shirt off, you’re completely naked, staring at the tent in his jeans. You reach down and start to fuck yourself with two of your fingers. Joel undoes his belt and rips it from its loops in one swift motion.

You stare at him with doe eyes as he folds the leather strip in half before grabbing your wrist and pulling your fingers out. He growls and grabs you by the shoulders, moving you to lean over the arm of the couch. Lightning fast, he undoes his zipper and pulls himself out. You don’t even have time to look back when a *crack* fills the room and your ass stings painfully.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Joel smacks your ass with his belt again.

“I told you to fuck me, already!” You screamed at him, looking back.

“Careful what you wish for.” He growls and lines up, pushing into you in under a second.

“Fuck!” You clench around him involuntarily, hearing his belt buckle hit the ground. This gave you a little relief from having to experience even more pain than you already are; between the whips of the belt and the way Joel is stretching you out.

“You asked for it.” He grunts and starts with fast, rough thrusts.

“Yeah, I know.” You spit the words at him over your shoulder.

“Show me some goddamn respect.” His cock hits the sweet spot inside you as he speaks, making you whimper loudly.

One of his hands is gripping your hip, the other reaching around your front, under your arm, gripping your breast harshly. He was holding onto you for dear life and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You’re hissing through your teeth at almost every thrust as the sound of his hips slapping your ass fills the room.

Joel doesn’t let up, his hands in bruising grips on your body. The hand on your breast moved to the front of your throat, gripping it, slowly cutting off your blood supply. He pulls you up against his chest, the new angle of your hips helping him get deeper as he fucks up into you.

“More!” You shout at him, fingers tapping the back of his hand on your throat.

He tightens his grip on you, you’re starting to see spots when your cunt pulses around him and you squirt your release all over his cock. “Fuck!” You gasp, tears forming in your eyes when Joel finally loosens his grip on your neck and you gasp for air.

You sob a string of curses as your orgasm washes over you, but Joel doesn’t stop. His hips begin to stutter and you know he’s got to be close.

You reach down and fiddle with your clit, wanting to cum again already.

“You’re a freaky thing aren’t you?” Joel asked, replacing your fingers with his own. “Bet you’d let me do anything I wanted. Fuckin’ slut.”

You nod as tears roll down your cheeks.

“Gonna let me cum inside you?? Fill up this tight pussy?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Y- yes!! Fuck, fucking do it!” You grind down against his cock and fingers and suddenly you’re both losing it.

Joel’s fingers and hips stutter as he pumps his load into you, your cunt milking him for all he’s got. He keeps moving until his hips and back start hurting.

His dick is still hard as a rock when he pulls out of you. And there was no end in sight for you, you think you could cum ten more times and not be satisfied. You didn’t know at this point.

Joel moves around you and sits on the couch, cock in hand. His wet strokes are music to your ears as you maneuver yourself into his lap, facing away from him, each of your legs on the outside of his.

You can feel your own slick and his cum mixing together and leaking down to your asshole as you lean back against Joel’s chest.

“Fuck me again.” You pant.

“Shut up.” He spreads his thighs to make yours even further away from each other, reaching around and looking over your shoulder as he pushes two fingers into you.

He collects the wetness and starts rubbing up and down your slit, his thumb repeatedly brushing over your bundle of nerves.

“I told you I don’t have t- time for this, Joel.” You cry as you start to grind up against his hand with each downward movement of it.

“And I told you to shut up.” He growls and bites your earlobe. He can feel you dripping on him and he grabs you by the waist and folds you forward, making you put your hands on the coffee table for balance and support.

He lines himself up and pushes his cock into you, his fingers still covered in your juices moving to the hole that he hasn’t filled yet.

“Oh-“ you breathe, stomach churning with pleasure. “Do it. Fuck, don’t tease me, Joel. I’ll fucking stab you in the leg, I don’t-“ You’re cut off when his middle finger slowly pushes into you, making you gasp.

He starts thrusting himself up into your pussy while his finger worked its way in and out of your tightest hole, your slick and Joel’s cum sufficiently lubing you up.

His finger moved faster as his hips bucked up against yours. You start to roll your hips in rhythm with his and you’re about to cum again.

Joel feels you clench around him and he knows you’re close. He starts fucking you especially hard, loving the way you were bouncing on his cock.

His finger pulls out of you and he grabs your hips with both hands for more force and then you’re screaming his name as you cum hard.

Close behind, Joel groans as he shoots his load into you again. His hands start to loosen on your hips, his dick starting to finally soften inside you. Your anger has faded, your stomach no longer burning with feral need.

Joel pulled you back against his chest again as he came to his senses. “Did I hurt you?” He spoke softly, cock flexing, still in your pussy.

You hum a sigh, tired. “No. I mean… yes. But it didn’t hurt in a way that I didn’t like.”

“Alright.” He wraps his arms around your waist, hands splaying out over your belly.

“This okay?” He asks after a moment, nose tracing circles in the soft spot behind your ear.

“Yeah… I-“ you take a breath. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile.”

Joel laughs quietly. “You ‘think’? Whaddya mean?”

You shake your head, smacking his arm lightly. “I just didn’t want to admit to myself that I had a crush on you. So I played up the sass a bit.”

“Ahh, okay.” He hums.

“Like you didn’t? You tease me all the fucking time, Joel.”

He nods, breath ghosting over your neck, causing goosebumps to raise there. “And I know you love it.”

————————————————————————

Tag list: @evyiione @chyannealaniz @cesspitoflove @supersingle

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crowbrained · 2 years

Text

Did anyone else need like. a story to go along with whatever you were eating or was that just me?

#like.#whenever I ate cheese sticks I would have to pretend I was Bambi stripping the bark off of a tree #it was the only way the cheese tasted good if I pretended to be Bambi #during the winter when there was only one tree left #I would pretend to be both Bambi and his mom taking turns eating it #I don’t eat cheese sticks anymore tho #but I’m curious to see if anyone else has done this before #or still does

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captain-hawks · 9 months

Text

waking reverie

levi ackerman x f!reader

summary: sick and tired of overhearing the sounds of you fooling around with a fellow squad leader, Levi decides to confront you afterward at a particularly inopportune moment.

or, Levi catches you getting yourself off and has a thing or two to say (and do) about it.

word count: 4.3k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, squirting, unprotected sex, rough sex, squirting, dom!levi, possessive!levi, creampie, choking, spit kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Hange is going to kill him if he keeps stealing their pencils.

It’s the first thought that crosses Levi’s mind when a loud cracking noise is followed by something sharp jabbing into his palm, and he glances down to see the writing utensil crumble into a sad clump of shards over his page of notes. But he doesn’t mull over it long, not when he’s distracted by something he’s heard far too much of over the past few days—the sound of you giggling, followed by the door to Squad Leader Daniel Flore’s office slamming shut.

Tonight’s pencil met its earliest grave yet, the wood starting to splinter an hour ago when the mess hall cleared out, at which point Levi had begun unconsciously squeezing it in irritated anticipation of…this.

There’s a scuffling of boots and the squeak of a chair scooting across the floor next door. But then things are relatively silent for a few moments after, and Levi looks up at the ceiling pleadingly, wondering if maybe he’ll finally get some peace tonight. But no, his hopes are quickly dashed when he hears the muffled yet unmistakable sound of you fucking moaning.

Levi wishes he had another pencil to snap in half.

Maybe the chair legs will have to do.

It’s not that Levi gives a shit about his fellow Survey Corps members getting laid. In fact, if it means they’re less high strung on the field, he’ll gladly set up a goddamn matchmaking booth outside of the building, if only to save himself the headache of trying to maintain order over a group of sexually frustrated idiots. Whatever it takes to make his life a little less miserable.

He’s perhaps a bit more judgemental when it comes to Squad Leaders pairing off, often shamelessly barking at them the next day not to let their “messy shit” get in the way of doing their damn jobs. Yet he generally waves it off all the same, rolling his eyes when the lovesick idiots start to realize what a bad idea it is to grapple with feelings when you’re supposed to be saving the world from man-eating Titans.

Anyway, you and Flore are both Squad Leaders. Fine. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

Whatever.

But the real fucking issue here is the fact that Flore keeps his desk up against the wall that he shares with Levi’s office. And he’s been fucking you up against—or on top of, maybe—that stupid, shitty piece of furniture for the past three nights in a row.

Loudly.

So loudly that Levi’s not sure if Flore’s got something to prove or if he’s just downright stupid. Probably the latter, if Levi’s being honest. Either way, he’s well and truly on the verge of losing his mind at this point.

And if a tiny part of it is because he’s downright fucking baffled that you’d go barking up Flore’s tree of all people?

Levi Ackerman is not jealous.

…he just assumed you’d have better taste.

—

Perhaps fucking Daniel Flore a mere wall away from Captain Levi’s office wasn’t quite your best decision as of late.

And not just because of the fact that he can more than likely hear the two of you going at it like foolish teenagers, which is just asking to draw more ire from the already irritable man.

Not just because, despite your tendency to bicker with one another like it’s your job, you actually have quite a solid working relationship with the Captain. Something you’d tentatively call friendship—and he might even be inclined to agree, on his less moody days.

The most conflicting part of your tipsy decision that has since turned into a multi-day affair is something else entirely. Something that, in reality, shouldn’t even matter.

…because it’s not like he’s even interested.

At one point or another, you found yourself developing feelings for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

—but the idea of Captain Levi fucking Ackerman deigning to get down and dirty with you of all people is laughable, at best. He can hardly step out of his office without turning heads, let alone when he makes his way through town. With the reputation that he’s built for himself over the years, he could have anyone he wanted.

Flore’s nice enough. And he’s a decent kisser, you’ll give him that. But as you glance back at the brown-haired man leaning against the chair and panting, a smug grin on his face as you slip your pants back on to conclude your activities, you internally cringe at the feeling of your underwear brushing against your sad, throbbing clit.

A throbbing clit that you’ll have to sneak off to your own office down the hall to take care of yourself for the second night in a row, because while you ended your first encounter somewhat satisfied, Flore hasn’t been able to get you off since. You’ve put on enough of a show each time to leave him thinking otherwise, half convinced that maybe there’s just something wrong with you, but after tonight, you may have to rethink your arrangement.

There’s a small, well-worn couch situated in the corner of your office, which you make a beeline for after closing the door and shucking your pants off once more. The material drops onto the wooden floor in a careless heap as you slump back onto the cushions, letting your thighs fall open as you lean your head back and slowly swipe a finger over the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your folds are frustratingly dry, your fleeting thoughts of Flore doing absolutely nothing to help dampen your situation. So, also for the second night in a row…your thoughts betray you as they drift to a place you know will leave you slick and whimpering.

A vision of soft, black hair, steel gray eyes, and a familiar commanding, low voice is all it takes to encourage the sticky arousal now dripping at the apex of your thighs, a shameless little moan falling from your lips as you slide two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Have you ever considered that there are other people in the barra—”

The door to your office flies open as Levi storms in without knocking, though his barked out words are immediately cut off the moment his eyes stray to the sofa. He freezes in place, not even bothering to turn around as he slowly kicks the door shut behind him.

And it would be comical, just how many emotions are fighting their way across Levi’s normally composed face, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s now staring at you while you finger yourself because you were so desperate to get yourself off that you forgot to lock the fucking door.

He blinks, crossing his arms. “You’re joking.”

Fingers still lodged inside of your wet heat because you can’t decide whether or not that’s less awkward than pulling them out and wiping them on the couch, you realize that you have no idea what to say. “I—”

“Was fucking like animals for forty-five minutes up against the wall beside my office not enough for you?” he deadpans.

Your face heats up in embarrassment, and you pull your eyes away from his heavy gaze, looking off to the side of the room as you subtly shift your fingers to your thigh. “That’s not exactly…I just didn’t…” you mutter, trailing off.

Levi scoffs as he swiftly ascertains what you’re alluding to, “Don’t tell me Flore doesn’t even know how to get a woman off.”

You bristle with embarrassment over his forwardness, finally snapping your legs closed and hastily tugging a pillow over your lap. “That’s none of your business.”

“If two Squad Leaders are fucking on my watch, it’s my business to make sure your messy little relationship doesn’t end up getting us all killed in the field,” he sneers.

“There’s no relationship. We’re not dating. It was a one time thing”

Levi doesn’t respond.

“Okay, a few-times thing,” you amend with a huff, shifting uncomfortably.

He continues to stare at you, waiting.

“I was lonely and tired of taking care of things myself. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

His boots hardly make a sound as he takes a step closer to you and observes, “It looks like you’re still taking care of things yourself, anyway.”

You sigh heavily, “It’s slim pickings around here, Captain.”

Another step.

“So Flore was your top choice?”

Despite the fact that you’re nearly naked in front of the man who’s currently raising an eyebrow as he nudges your discarded underwear with the toe of his boot, you manage to school your features into a mask of cool indifference as you shrug, “My preferred taste is a bit more…unattainable.”

“Let me guess, Commander Erwin?” he drawls.

You can’t help the choked out laugh that escapes you at that—just how very off base his assumptions are. If nothing else, perhaps it means you’ve done a somewhat decent job at not making your crush on the Captain wholly apparent.

“I mean, he sure does look like he’s fantastic in bed—”

“Spare me,” Levi groans.

“...but he’s just not quite short-tempered and difficult enough for my tastes,” you finish, letting your mouth quirk upward in the ghost of a smile.

Levi’s knees bump into yours as he reaches the couch, looking down at you with his hands resting casually in his pockets. “And someone is?”

“Someone unattainable,” you concede.

Your breath hitches in your throat when Levi leans down, making a noncommittal noise as he swipes a layer of dust off of the couch’s wooden frame. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he asks, “So…you’d rather do this,” he gently thumps a fist over the pillow in your lap, “than try and approach this someone?”

Refusing to back down from his stare, you flippantly reply, “Sometimes the fantasy ends up being better than the real thing, anyway.”

Levi’s jaw ticks, and he asks you carefully in a low tone, “And just how often do you entertain this little fantasy?”

“Every night,” you breathe out, not missing a beat.

This time, when Levi leans in, his breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “I can assure you the fantasy pales in comparison.”

With that, he stands up straight and heads for the door without so much as a goodbye.

Gaping, you call out, “Captain Levi?”

His hand pauses on the doorknob, and without turning to look at you, he says cooly, “My office. Now.”

“I—”

“It’s cleaner.”

—

It’s ridiculous, the way your fingers tremble as you slip your pants back on—forgoing the underwear completely this time. On the field, you wield the dual blades at your sides with a steady, focused grip and instinctual precision that once upon a time granted you a top spot in your Training Corps class.

And yet here you are now, caught in a battle between the stubborn button of your pants and your shaking hands, your entire goddamn axis thrown off kilter by the devastatingly handsome Captain currently waiting for you a few doors down. With a sigh, you give up, tugging your shirt down and hoping for the sake of the last charred bits of your ego that you didn’t misunderstand his invitation.

Are you really about to go and fuck Captain Levi Ackerman?

You don’t have to ponder the question long, because you’re hardly two steps inside of Levi’s office, having slipped inside the door that he left open just a crack, when you find yourself firmly pressed up against it.

Levi’s body is warm as he cages you in, eyes boring into your own while he reaches behind you and flicks the lock shut with an abrupt click that seems to echo throughout the room. You’re both silent for a moment, and he takes half a step back.

“Are you certain you want to do this?”

The question catches you off guard, but you nod.

Levi inhales sharply through his nose and adds, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you exhale quickly, already feeling more than a little breathless.

He leans in, letting his fingers ghost over your chin, his breath mingling in the vicinity of yours as he warns you softly, “I’m not a gentle lover.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” you assure him, taking no small delight in the way his eyes briefly close at your affirmation.

“...and I don’t share,” he whispers, thumb skating over your lower lip.

“Neither do I,” you challenge, though you’re well aware you’re getting far too ahead of yourself with your implied request.

“I would hope not,” Levi chuckles lowly. “From now on, you come to me and only me.”

Searing heat drips through your veins, your lips parting slightly as the full weight of his words hits you.

Levi’s lips hover over yours, so close you can nearly taste the promise on them as he murmurs, “...and you come for me. Only. Me.”

Oh.

Toes curling, it takes every ounce of restraint inside of your body to hold back the pathetically desperate whimper vibrating through you in response. The quiet, shaky “yes” that leaves you is hardly audible over the rapid beating of your heart.

But it’s all Levi needs to hear, that last exhale, before he cups your face in both hands and slots his lips against yours.

There’s a focused, measured precision in the way Levi kisses, a push and pull in the way his mouth both guides and chases your own. With a tease of teeth along your bottom lip and a sensual dance of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you’re caught up in a hungry, electrifying undercurrent that leaves you dizzy on the spot.

You’ve spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about Levi’s mouth. The delicate curve of his cupid’s bow. That restless tongue that’s always clicking against his teeth, as if it’s just waiting to be put to use elsewhere. The prominent taste of tea you could guarantee would be lingering on his lips.

But there’s one thing you hadn’t accounted for, one thing that knocks the air from your lungs.

—it’s the way Levi murmurs your name into the kiss, the curve of each letter so sensual, his voice so rough that you know the memory of it is already irrevocably seared into your mind.

You let yourself tangle your fingers in the silken, black strands of his hair, earning a pleased, rumbling groan in his throat in response. Pushing your luck, you tug on the locks, and the hot trail of kisses Levi’s blazing along your exposed neck is interrupted by the soft growl that leaves his throat as he bites down on your sensitive skin and begins to suck.

The firm, solid pressure of his body against yours as you arch into him leaves you keening, and his hands drift down to grasp your hips while he presses hungry, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, as low as your partially-unbuttoned shirt will allow. You rock your hips into him, already drunk on his scalding, attentive touch, and a small moan escapes your lips when you feel the rock hard evidence of his own arousal drag against the apex of your thighs.

“Levi,” you pant out, rolling your hips once more.

He groans languidly, bringing his lips back up to yours for a chaste kiss. Fingertips skating beneath your chin, gray eyes bore into your own as he asks, “Safe word?”

Mind blanking for a moment, every single word you’ve ever known ceases to exist in the heady, addictive presence of the man before you. Your eyes land on something sitting on his desk; it’s broken to pieces but still unmistakable.

“Pencil.”

Levi huffs out a low laugh, staring at you a little incredulously before he intones, “Tch. Fine.”

At that, he lets his hand trail down between your legs, another amused sound leaving him when he realizes you didn’t bother buttoning your pants back up before slinking into his office.

“Eager?” he questions, only to let out a near feral noise when he notices your underwear also didn’t come along for the trip.

All you can do is whine as he slides his hand into your pants, no small amount of satisfaction gracing his features when he feels the damp pool of arousal that’s since soaked through the material.

“I hope this was all for me,” he observes, sliding two fingers through your slick, sensitive folds.

You shiver, pushing into his touch, afraid that you might collapse if he doesn’t start sliding those thin, dexterous digits into your aching cunt soon.

“You know it is,” you pant.

Your legs quake when he brushes his thumb over your swollen clit, fingertips teasing at your fluttering entrance.

“I wonder if that’s why you couldn’t come for him,” he muses, bringing his hand up to eye level and watching the way your sticky arousal hangs between the digits. You’d whine at the loss of contact, if it weren’t for the way he sticks his fingers in his mouth and licks them clean.

His hand trails back down to your wet heat as you try to remember how to breathe, his gaze heavy as plunges two fingers into your cunt and rasps, “Because you wished it was my cock inside of you, fucking you stupid.”

Levi doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your needy hole, each thrust punctuated by the wet squelch of your gratuitous arousal. Heat spreads under your skin under his thorough exploration of your narrow, saturated channel, digits curling to meticulously stroke a spot that has you gasping his name. Your fingertips dig into his collarbone, and Levi surges forward, lips crashing into yours as he swallows your pleading moans. And for what may very well be the first time in your life, your climax takes you entirely by surprise, liquid fire whipping through your insides with the force of a raging gale.

He nips at your bottom lip while you come down from your shuddering wave of pleasure, but your fingers have barely begun to reach for his stiff length when Levi suddenly drops down to his knees in front of you. Nails dragging along your hip bones, he swiftly tugs down your pants and tosses them aside before pushing your legs further apart and burying his face between them.

Prickles of overstimulation crawl up your spine, and you let out a small sound of protest, but your core immediately turns molten again at Levi’s ragged tone as he breathes out, “One more. One more before I fuck you.”

There’s nothing calculated about the messy, hungry way he goes down on you, parting your folds to sink his tongue into your cunt, nose pressed firmly against your clit, a moan reverberating through him as he laps up every last drop of the cum that’s leaking out of you. His fingertips dig into your thighs, saliva running down his chin, and he moves to slide two fingers back inside of you while he begins to mouth at your sensitive bundle of nerves

At this point, even if Levi hadn’t made it explicitly clear that whatever this is between the two of you is very much exclusive—

…you’re not sure if anyone else could even come close.

Reality trumps the fantasy, indeed, Captain.

And with a firm crook of his fingers, the steaming pressure building up inside of you bursts, clear liquid spraying from your pussy and soaking Levi’s face and hand as you ride out your second orgasm.

If you thought Levi looked feral before, it’s nothing compared to the look that crosses his face as you squirt for him. “Oh fuck.”

He all but drags you over to his desk, unceremoniously swiping everything off of the surface and letting it all clatter to the floor before lifting you up—with strength that honestly shouldn’t surprise you—and placing you on its surface. Fingers aching to touch him, you grapple with his shirt, pulling it over his head while he trails his way down the remaining buttons on yours. You hardly have time to enjoy the planes of his bare chest before you, because he makes quick work of your bra, cursing under his breath at the sight and wasting no time in leaning in to taste your supple breasts.

A small part of you almost wants to make a comment about dirtying Levi’s clean desk with the arousal you know is dripping out of you once more—you’re so fucking wet for him it’s boredline ridiculous—but all thoughts go fizzling from your mind when he latches onto your nipple and begins to suck.

“Fucking perfect,” he grunts, teeth grazing the sensitive bud.

Unable to wait any longer to finally see what’s straining for release between his legs, you unbutton his pants, humming in satisfaction at the feeling of his deceivingly thick cock throbbing in your palm. Saliva coats your tits as he sucks more fervently in response to the way you’ve begun to stroke his length, your other hand tangling in his hair.

“Stop.”

You freeze at the command in his tone, waiting as he pushes down his pants and underwear, kicking them out of the way before stepping closer between your legs.

“Next time,” he amends gently, leaning in to graze his teeth along the shell of your ear, lips and tongue pressing into the tender skin behind your earlobe. “Because I might very well lose my mind if I don’t fuck you right now.”

You exhale, muscles aching with anticipation. “Please, Levi.”

He pushes your thighs apart, swiping his fingers through your arousal and using it to coat his shaft before notching its reddened, leaking head at your entrance. And remembering your earlier words about just how you like it, there’s no warning when Levi plunges his throbbing cock into your slick, wet cunt, plastering his mouth onto yours to swallow down each delicious moan that echoes out of you as he splits you open.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Levi fucks you, sweaty hair plastered against his forehead as he revels in the warmth of your tight cunt with each snap of his hips, every thrust deeper than the last. The push and drag of his fat cock has you whining and moaning so loud your throat begins to burn, satisfaction curling in your gut at the mirroring sound that leaves him when you roughly pull on his hair.

Belatedly—too distracted by your lust-fuelled frenzy—you realize that smacking flesh and needy, desperate noises aren’t the only sounds echoing throughout the room. With each punishing snap of his hips, as Levi stuffs you full of his cock over and over, his desk violently smacks into the wall.

The wall that Flore is very likely currently sitting on the other side of at his own desk.

You tell Levi as much, and he makes no effort to slow down as he growls, “I don’t fucking care.”

And well, maybe it’s a little fucked up.

But given that the object of years worth of your wet dreams is currently balls deep inside of you and groaning your name repeatedly, you can’t bring yourself to give a shit, either.

So instead, you whimper, “Harder, Levi. Please.”

Hands trail along your throat, and Levi meets your gaze. You nod, and he tightens his grip, your dwindling airflow setting your nerves alight with pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waist, the balls of your feet pressing into the small of his back, and as he continues to choke you, your tight cunt chokes the width of his cock in equal measure.

It feels so fucking good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your chest aches from the heaving, panting breaths you repeatedly continue to demand of it. The pressure on your throat lessens, and you feel Levi’s hand come up to cup your chin, his thumb pulling down on your bottom lip.

Though it’s only one word, you know he feels just as wrecked as you by his low, rough tone as rasps, “Open.”

You part your lips, and Levi leans in, spitting in your mouth. He feels the way your cunt clenches down on him in response, so after you swallow, unconsciously letting your lips fall back open, he spits again.

In turn, you grab him by the hair and pull him in for a filthy kiss. Levi’s mouth devours yours as he grabs you by the throat again, moaning against your lips, “Good girl.”

The ache between your thighs blooms red hot, the coil of pleasure twisting in your gut unfurling so rapidly your vision goes white as you come hard, gushing around the stretch of Levi’s cock. He chases your lips as you throw your head back in pleasure, kissing you hard while he drives his length deep into you one last time to the hilt, hips jerking as he empties himself inside of you.

You let your body fall against his as you both come down from your climaxes, breathing heavily. Levi begins to rub soothing circles against your back, callused fingertips skating across your smooth skin, the gesture an amusingly stark contrast to how brazenly he just fucked you. When he pulls out of you, thick cum leaks from between your thighs, making a mess of his desk.

And for once, it’s a mess that Levi Ackerman doesn’t mind.

Instead, he cups your cheek in one hand, a glint in his eyes as he murmurs, “I think I can get four out of you next time.”

Your eyes widen, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you lean in, lips ghosting over his as you retort, “Cocky bastard.”

Tongue clicking against his teeth, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Brat,” kissing you again.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut #dee writes

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evilminji · 6 months

Text

( o.o) okay... so...

I am loosely basing this of how one of my OCs powers work? But... can Overgrowth make ANY plant? Past, present, future? Possible, probable, hypothetical? ANY any plant?

I ask this, because Humans? NOT born from a plant.

Buuuuuut they COULD be.

Of course they could. The plant would be a dead end. Unable to reproduce or cultivate without humanity. Just? The most costly, ungainly, unnatural plant imaginable.

Which is WHY it doesn't exsist. Why it will never exist.

But COULD it? Oh easily. Child's play. There are countless billions of billions of plants that COULD exsist. From benevolent to world ending. But why would Overgrowth give a shit? Why MAKE such pointless things?

Well... Sam wants a kid.

Full stop.

She wants a kid and is NOT about to do that whole "risk her life and irreversibly change her body with child creation" thing. So? How does one have a child with two fathers, one mother, who was not carried to term inside said mother? A surrogate perhaps?

Naaaaah.

No, no. It's time to get the machete and go Bully God(tm). Specifically THAT God, over there. The plant one. Give her the nonexistent child creating plant or Snippy Snippy, Overgrowth, you fuck!

Sam. Sam, please. Begs her beloved husband's. But until THEY can carry Child, they can shut up and help menace a Deity. Dani, her beloved S-I-L who's just here for adorable future munchkins and general Chaos, agrees. Square up, boys.

She obviously, gets her plant.

It's an abomination.

Just? THE nightmare of a tree. Oozy tar like bark, sickly appearance, bone colored needle like leaves. Single, giant, blood red "fruit". They have to feed it ectoplasm, their own blood, and basicly everything to make a body. Meaning flesh, bones, blood, nutrients and minerals.

Proper horror movie.

Sam? Fucking LOVES her Baby Tree. It's name is Mortica.

Now, OBVIOUSLY, everyone in Amity? Knows to mind their Business by now. The Fenton-Foely-Manson throuple or what ever order they've decided on today, are both terrifying and willing to throw down. Fenton is Phantom. Manson is Samantha Manson. Their husband will laugh at you instead of help. Not worth it.

But OUTSIDERS? Tourists passing through and cousins come to visit?

They see a huge, fuck off, nightmare tree straight out of Poison Ivy's fever dreams. Do the reasonable thing. Call the Justice League Help Line.

So NOW JLA Dark is sitting Very Nervously, in this terrifying throuples home. Trying to ask HOW they got the Tree. Trying to ignore that one of them is a ghost of incredible power, the other an Avatar of the Green, and this nice man is just? Cool with having a nightmare tree baby? Yeah. Of course.

Just... just please tell them if it's gonna eat people. Yes or no.

@nerdpoe @hypewinter @ailithnight @hdgnj @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #tree baby au #sam and her Concerning Nightmare Tree #named after her favorite Addams #they got a nursery all ready and everything

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who-do-i-know-this-man · 8 months

Note

It's probably too late in the bracket to change things but it would be interesting to split "I know both characters" and "I know neither"

Here's my review of the fruit "rambutan". Since I found some in my local store recently.

First of course you eat with your eyes and I gotta say they pass that test.

Look at it. It's such a fun shape. And if anyone has ever wanted to eat those little chapstick ball things this has got you covered. The skin part even slides off real satisfying like.

As for the taste and texture, it is very similar to a peeled grape, with a bit of flavor of like a peach syrup. Overall I really enjoyed it.

However it is now time to bring down this little fruit's score. Like half of the volume (not counting the skin) is a big old seed. Or pit. I'm not a biologist. That on it's own isn't a deal breaker but when I ate it, the skin of the seed kept getting pealed off with the fruit flesh, leaving what tasted like a very thin layer of tree bark on my tasty treat. I don't know if mine were just overripe or underripe or something, but I hope that isn't just the rambutan experience cause this detail ruined them for me.

2/10, with the potential to be a 6/10 if the seed can just keep to itself.

#asks #not blorbo poll #another both/neither ask

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nebulaafterdark · 5 months

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Exile (Part 4)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol/drug use and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 3

The reaping for the 64th hunger games, brings forth their tributes, Denali and Maximus. The girl, is sixteen and her little brother, only fourteen. Orphans, surviving solely off of tesserae and profits made from pedaling contraband at the hob.

When Y/N comes to greet them on the train, Denali has her brother tucked behind her protectively, near the table of food. “Hello.”

Denali watches her with wary eyes.

“You should eat.” Y/N tells her. “Both of you. Get your strength up for the arena.”

Maximus reaches out for a dinner roll, but his sister slaps it from his hand.

“You first.” Denali demands. She needs to be sure it’s not poisoned.

Y/N closes the space between them, taking the abandoned bread and tearing off a piece. Placing it into her mouth, she chews and swallows.

Maximus presses his lips together, gulping hard. He can almost taste it.

“My name is Y/N. I’ll be your mentor-”

“Where’s the other one? The man?”

“Haymitch is down in the bar car.” Y/N tells them.

“He’s been doing it longer, we want him.” Denali says.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest, toying with the bracelet on her left wrist. “But the two of you stay here, and eat. Please eat.”

The girl narrows her gray, seam, eyes, watching the woman leave. She’s seen her before, sneaking around where she didn’t belong. The man, Haymitch, was from the seam, before he won the games. He still comes down to the hob, Denali’s sold to him a couple times. Most recently, a bracelet, woven from stitching scraps. For his wife, he’d told her…and the woman, Y/N, is wearing it.

The victors return after a long moment, their hands intertwined. Y/N appears to be leading Haymitch toward them, against his will.

Maximus and his sister stare at him, expectantly.

Haymitch smiles, “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Y-yes. You’re our mentor and we need strategy and-”

“Woah,” Haymitch stops the girl’s train of thought, “you’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“That’s her department,” Haymitch jerks his chin toward his wife.

“Then what do you do?” Denali asks.

“Enjoy the refreshments,” Haymitch lifts his glass.

————————————————————————

Upon arriving in the Capitol, Y/N and Haymitch are collected to film interviews. Caesar always finds a way to make the most of their time here. But over the years, it has proven useful in gaining sponsors for their tributes.

“We’re happy.” Haymitch reminds Y/N. “We’re in love and so glad to be here.”

Y/N nods, blinking up at him through obscenely long lashes. Vanity has done a number on her this time. Y/N is her muse, the one who inspired her to leave her position as stylist for the games and design pieces for her victor full time.

The people of the Capitol cannot get enough. Anything Y/N wears, they want to wear. Tonight is a cotton candy pink dress.

“For the first time, on this very stage, we will be joined by Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy.” Caesar announces, riling the crowd into a frenzy.

Last time they were here was their wedding day and Snow obviously had better things for them to do afterwards than gossip with Caesar Flickerman.

“Please give our newly weds a warm welcome, Y/N and Haymitch.” Caesar motions toward them from the stage, their queue to join him.

Haymitch reaches back for her hand, waving out at the crowd as they cross the floor.

Y/N greets Caesar first. He likes her better than Haymitch anyway, most people do.

————————————————————————

“Where’ve you been?” Maximus asks his mentors, after the tribute parade.

“Clearly they have more important things to do than help us.” Denali turns up her nose in their direction.

The tributes are dressed as coal miners…again.

“Do you have any idea how much a bottle of water goes for in the arena? A loaf of bread? Medicine?” Haymitch cuts in. “Those things don’t come cheap, sweetheart.”

“So what?” Denali doesn’t understand how their absence would change that.

“There’s people here with a lot of money.” Y/N explains. “The more time we spend with them, the more money they’re willing to provide our tributes. I’m sorry that we had to step away, but that’s why I supplied you with the tablets. Did you have a chance to look over the strategy files?”

Denali shakes her head of dark curls.

“That’s ok, we still have time.” Y/N assures her, “let’s go up to our floor. We can discuss it over dinner.”

————————————————————————-

The district twelve escort, a woman named Cordelia Walters, who desperately hopes to be reassigned to another district; holds the elevator for them. “Chop, chop.” She claps her hands together. Like herding animals in a zoo.

“Always a delight.” Haymitch snarks, as they step into the confined space.

Y/N huffs a laugh, pressing her lips together. Their escorts seem to have a high turnover rate. She hopes that holds true.

Dinner is tense, Cordelia can’t be bothered with listening to defense strategy details. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Oh, sure!” Y/N pipes up, “let’s discuss the up in coming fashion for the spring. I have all of Vanity’s sketches.”

“Really?” The woman squeals, “you don’t think she’ll mind?”

“Not at all.” Y/N lies, “here, take it. You can bring it back in the morning.”

“Thank you.” The Capitol woman races away, closing the door to her suite behind her.

“That’s one way to do it.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder, poking at the peas on his plate.

“Now we can talk?” Maximus asks, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. “You can start by telling me what you’re good at.”

“I’m a fast runner.” The boy tells her.

“Had to be, we’ve been running all our lives.” Denali adds, still unsure if Y/N can be trusted.

“And what about you,” Y/N asks, “what are you good at?”

“I’m strong and good with a knife.” The girl tells her. “We just need you to give us a chance.”

Y/N leans in, across the table, “we can train you, separate from the other tributes. We can supply you with anything you might need from a sponsor. We can prepare you for your interviews. No one is rooting for you more than we are.”

The four of them talk late into the night, answering questions. Exchanging stories and discussing useful weapon tactics.

Haymitch’s number one rule is not to get attached. However his wife, either cannot or will not follow it.

When they finally retire to their room, Y/N makes a mad dash for the white pills, on the bedside table. The contents rattle in her shaking hand.

“Here, angel.” Haymitch takes it from her, “that won’t help.”

“But you said-” White is for pain.

He reaches for another bottle. “Take this.” He deposits a yellow pill into her hand. Then a blue. For her nerves and to help her sleep.

Y/N swallows them down, attempting to catch her breath.

“Come here.” Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Placing a hand over her heart and rubbing gently, “that’s where it hurts, huh?”

She nods, praying that the pills take effect soon.

“The white ones can’t help with that.” He continues, attempting to soothe the ache.

“How do you do this?” Y/N leans into him. “It’s only been four years and I feel like-”

“Before you, those ten years after I won….I drank until I blacked out and I can still see their faces. I remember their names. I see their families, back home and it never gets easier. It never gets better. But you find ways to live with it.”

Y/N lets out a sob, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“I’ll help you.” I’ll do whatever it takes.

“I want to go home.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes. “But the pills are gonna kick in soon. Then you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better. I want to save those kids!”

“We can try.” Haymitch says, somberly.

“If I overdose, what happens to my family?” Y/N wonders, eyelids growing heavy as Haymitch shuffles her toward the bed.

“Snow wanted to have them executed after your games. As punishment for you not killing Tyson. He was only willing to negotiate a deal, in exchange for my…work. If you kill yourself, I have nothing else to offer him. No leverage. He’ll kill them and sell me; again.” Haymitch explains, pulling off her shoes. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. She has something to live for. Her sister, her parents and him. She has Haymitch to live for. Therefore she cannot die. “It was only a hypothetical question, I wasn’t- I wouldn’t-” leave you.

Haymitch pats her cheek, the drugs have kicked in and her tears have subsided. “Goodnight, angel.”

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queenie-the-court-jester · 29 days

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OH FLUFFY STORY, UHM uhm, Cupid! Reader accepts and slowly tries to patch up his wings and he turns into a househusband HAHAHA I think it be Hella cute to come home to a cutie wearing an apron 'kiss the chef!' and then you hug him and tousle his hair and he just has this stupid bright happy grin on his face.

💌sweetheart mentally scarred the both of you with the whole 'cutting wings off' stunt. You still shivered whenever you'd find a pink feather hidden somewhere. Since the bones really hurt and we're uncomfortable when he'd try to sleep, you carefully cut them off with some specialized tools you found on amazon for half price

💌 leaving them as little nubs and gently rubbing soothing lotion on the areas around. All while he let out happy little groans, leaning into your touch. All the pain was so worth it, because now you're both married! Roomies

💌at first he was banned from the kitchen since he almost burned it down trying to heat up milk. But with enough cooking lessons and precautions he got the hang of it. Packing you cute little lunches and doing all the housework. He has this little fantasy where you come home from work everyday and lay him down and stroke his cock and-

💌 he's a pervert. Going through your underwear to save for personal use. Where does he hide it? Who knows. He practically salivates when ever you walk around the house naked, no matter how many times he sees you in the nude, he always gets a boner and a nosebleed

💌he somehow convinces you to actually get married with him? Where the hell did he get those rings and marriage papers from- expect him to be whining about wanting kids next. Sweetheart learns how to bark like ishowspeed...

💌 turning him into an honorable member of society was the biggest challenge ever, he's so strange and odd. Sometimes you lose him in crowds only to find him up a tree moments later. You had to buy multiple matching couple shirts just so people could return him

💌 sweetheart started growing out his hair, you brushed it off as him trying a new style. but In reality he got the delusional idea that if he grew his hair out long enough he could tie you up with it and fuck you stupid like a good husband should

💌don't let him eat sugar, he'll get a sugar rush and zoom around the house like crazy. Biting you and demanding to let him suck your nipples. What is with this man and sucking nipples. You need to put a gag on him or something before he wants to start sucking your genitals

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ma1dita · 1 month

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to catch a thief

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (post-TLT, sea of monsters compliant/spoilers) The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. Your reunion with Luke is nothing you both could have ever expected. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: we’re so back trouble!verse ;) sorry for the post birthday hiatus on this, hope you like it! crack banter but err... she got a lil angsty

(posted 3/22/24, semi-edited)

—

When you wake up to the gentle rolling of the sea, it feels like a comforting embrace in a distant dream. Tangled within pristine white sheets, you could smell the salt through the small opening in the bay window–though this was a far cry from a fairytale conjured by your mind. This was your reality.

You wouldn’t call it a nightmare per se, but the circumstances were definitely less than preferred.

This is not the CSS Birmingham. No, that went up in flames. Retracing your steps to what led you to this—cushy cruise line of a prison, you reckon it’s been a few days now since you’ve become a stowaway, or a hostage. You haven’t quite decided yet.

Gods, this is what you get for passing up on that summer research internship.

Dropping off Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson at camp was supposed to be a fun walk down memory lane—until meeting with your dad, finding out Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, watching Chiron get fired, and essentially getting kicked out by the troll of a man who originally got sent to the Fields of Punishment for marketing the taste of human flesh made you remember that nothing at camp is the way it used to be.

Not like before, when you and Luke used to run it.

Your dad told you to go home and wait till you were needed. Home. Driving away from it this time around was harder than you thought it would be. You’d never been the patient type, and to drop everything just because a god told you to? Hilarious, really.

But almost a week later, after rejoining your friends on an undead ship that you let the kids commandeer, your vital mistake was thinking that Clarisse’s quest would be a breeze. Rookie move, since the last one you were on left you as scarred as Luke was. Even thinking of him now, you run your thumb over the rough patch of skin on your palm.

At the very least you hoped Tyson was okay. The last memory you have of the young Cyclops was watching him from your place on the ladder as he stopped the engines from overheating. Maybe it was the ex-head counselor in you, or your increased threshold to pain, but there was no way in hell you were leaving that kid behind.

The sound of voices from outside your door gets louder now, your throat feeling like you’ve been swallowing wads of cotton and a persistent ringing in your ear that hurts just as bad as when you watch Chris Rodriguez walk in with a plate of food. The last one he slid through the door bumps against his boot, still uneaten and he sighs.

“So what, you’re on a hunger strike now? I forgot how difficult you could be.”

You bark out a laugh. Thankfully it’s loud enough that it almost conceals the rumble of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you mumble, “Wish it could be an idiot strike. I forgot how much of a bitch you are when it comes to your brother, Rodriguez. How long are you going to keep me here? It’s been days.”

Your former friend rolls his eyes at your dramatics like he doesn’t hold the key to your freedom.

“Three since you woke up, actually. Come on, you’ve gotta eat, or I’ll get my ass kicked,” he grumbles. You raise an eyebrow at that, walking towards the window to dodge the uncomfortable tension that fills the room. He plucks an apple slice off your plate.

“He couldn’t splurge on a balcony view? Monsters aside, it’s not like you’ve reached full occupancy.”

“There are more mortals here than you think. To be honest, he was worried you would find a way to overthrow us,” the tanned boy admits, placing the tray on the dresser. It was always a wonder to him how you and Luke were more alike than you think, even now—even when Luke hasn’t come to see you. Talking to you reminded him that you’re both pains in his ass, and Chris was still unsure of who to be more wary of, but he’s been in charge of watching you for the most part.

“Well tell your stupid captain he has no right to be worried about me. I’d much rather try to jump if given the opportunity.”

There’s no response, so you turn to face Chris who’s eating a croissant with a bashful grin.

“Seriously dude?”

“Listen, I’m hoping if I think of the right words to say, he’ll come in and deal with you himself. Opposite sides of a war and you’re still both giving me a headache. Just like old times,” he chuckles, flakes of pastry dotting across his chest plate. Your mouth quirks into a bitter smile. Old times, when Luke would shove you if he couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. When you’d punch him to get your point across if he wasn’t listening. How a kiss could end any waging war between the both of you.

You swallow, turning slowly to watch your reflection in the glass of the windowpane.

Why hasn't he come to see you? The first day, you remember spending out on the sea—treading water with no land in sight, calling out to your friends until your voice went hoarse, but you didn’t cry. You know better than to show weakness now, even when no one’s around. Chris tells you over a gulp of orange juice that you washed up next to the Princess Andromeda on the second day like it was fate. Though fate was never truly that kind to anyone; it felt like it was laughing in your face. Knocked out cold for two days after, and ignoring all of Chris’s attempts to keep you alive in the days that followed, you’ve been in this room ever since. You barely notice Chris’s departure.

Entering the ensuite bathroom, you splash your face and sip on water from the tap before stopping at the doorway. A shadow flits at the seam near your feet, someone standing just out of sight when you peer through the peephole.

But you know Luke’s there. Sons of Hermes have almost undetectable footsteps, however, Luke walking in and out of your life for as long as he has—there’s no inconceivable way to not know him. Perhaps you couldn’t hear the sound of his feet, but there’s a way the wind shifts your hair, your heart slowing in ease at his presence, and the scent of him reminiscent of skin kissed with the peel of an orange. The skin you used to kiss and greet and know like your own.

The shadow fades just as your hand reaches out towards it, leaving like he always does. Always out of reach.

Even as the Princess Andromeda continues to set sail upon the calm waters of the Atlantic Coast, you look out to the unending horizon and still feel like you’re drowning.

—

“Status report, soldier?”

Chris rolls his eyes, popping the last piece of apple into his mouth as he strolls into the command deck. The both of you had a flair for the dramatic—it serves as his reminder of why you two worked so well. Luke is sitting in his captain’s seat, watching the waves crash against the hull as the sun begins to set on the skyline.

“She’s angry. Anyone would be if they were locked up like that.”

“Well, yeah, but tell me something I don’t know. Something useful, Rodriguez,” Luke says, flicking his pocket knife closed. It’s still sticky with the juice of the fruit, catching onto his finger. He hisses, but then the sound of loud footsteps boom down the corridor, along with the sound of maniacal laughter as the door slams open. The two sons of Hermes look at each other curiously, knowing it all too well.

“You know, the next time you send a 9-year-old to stand guard, remember to not make it the one we used to throw into the lake,” you drawl, sauntering into the bridge and looking around until your eyes land on your ex, “and also remember that you taught me how to pick locks.”

Ethan Nakamura heaves behind you, hands on his knees before he stands to attention and salutes his captain.

“Sir, I was just following orders… and I’m not 9 anymore!” he snaps, glaring at you. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation makes it easier to get through. You thought being surrounded by the undead on the CSS Birmingham was scary enough, but standing in a room with ghosts from your past was somehow worse. Honestly, you learned a lot more by being in that room than if you were to jump ship like you wanted to.

“I taught you how to tie your shoes, Ethan. You’re always gonna be a little kid to me,” you scoff, brushing him aside and walking towards Luke, “your new digs are fancy, by the way. I could tell by all the teenage soldiers chasing me through the tourists.”

He stands up and meets you head to head, as the both of you inspect each other closely.

It’s been a long year without you.

You look thinner. You’ve lost the softness in your cheeks and your eyes are tired. He wonders what you chose to major in, who your roommates are, if you still think of him with a smile on your face. You’re still beautiful.

“You know me, I like to travel in style,” Luke says offhandedly, a half smile on his face. For someone leading a war against the gods, he’s calm in your presence.

“Back when I knew you, we traveled in a tin can that we also called a car.”

His clothes are nicer than anything you’ve ever seen him in. He looks really fucking good, for someone on the run. It’s almost frustrating to see how brawny he’s gotten, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms. You suppose he has nothing to do now but practice and spar (that or he’s definitely flexing for you). Pulling at the drawstring of the joggers you wear, you realize his initials are embroidered on the pocket. Pretentious fuck. Did he change you once you got on board?

Chris and Ethan suddenly get the feeling that they’re interrupting something—a reunion in a blockbuster romantic movie they’ve seen the mortals play out on the ship deck’s projector on Friday nights. The two of you stand there arguing like a married couple despite the fact you are no longer lovers and the bickering continues even when more of Kronos’ army files in. You laugh again at the sight of children walking in—some strangers, others you’ve sung to sleep in cabin 11, all still children, even back from the time before when laughter didn’t have to have a reason, light and airy in the summer sun.

“You’re sick, you know that? Did you just plan to let me rot in that room until it was all over? You didn’t even talk to m—”

“Classic, you’re more mad that I didn’t talk to you over the fact that you’re a prisoner,” he seethes, but you don’t stand down—not now or ever.

“Prisoner? I walked out and none of your Boy Scouts could do anything about it!”

His face is turning red now, jaw tightening at the angst but deep down he misses this—the banter, the thin line between hate and love you both tread on. You may be a damsel. But you were not in distress. To further prove your point, you swing an arm toward one of the boys in black (their uniforms were annoyingly corny), and they all take a step back toward the wall. Your eyebrows furrow, “What type of prison has guards terrified of the prisoner?”

He shrugs, “It was only time before you came and found me. I even gave you a bay window.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“I’ll fucking kill yo—”

“Sir? So do we try and detain her, or….” one of the demigods you don’t know interjects, and Chris Rodriguez sucks at his teeth before he responds.

“Alright. We’ve seen enough of the show. Everyone file out and let Castellan reunite with his girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

“Girlfriend…”

The both of you look at each other, one in anger, the other in sheepishness now that you’re alone. It's even funnier that neither of you deny it.

“You left me there in that room, and by the sight of things around here you prefer being in the company of monsters than being with me, so by the gods, what do you want, Castellan?”

You fall into the captain’s chair exasperatedly, watching him watch you.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he says simply. “You can stay here with me, or you can go.”

“A choice? You captured me to tell me I have a choice,” you spit, as if that was the stupidest thing he could say. “You didn’t give me a choice when you left me.”

“It was a matter of the circumstances. And I didn't capture you—are you mad that I betrayed everyone or not, because I can’t really read you right now, trouble…”

Your eye twitches and your hands are in fists across your lap. Another wrong thing to say.

“Keeping me here until I get the nerve to talk to you is not a choice, asshole. Do you think you could just hide me away until the bad part’s over? To save me until everything's good enough for you?” Your eyes catch onto the droplets of blood that fall onto the hardwood flooring near your feet. His hand is bleeding, and like it’s nothing of the sort you reach out for it.

Luke thinks that if he lets you your hand will still perfectly fit in his, so after a moment, he pulls his hand away out of your reach. Pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket (also embroidered with his initials—note to self, never let a son of Hermes have money), you stand to wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding. You pretend not to notice his heartbeat increase through the throbbing of the cloth.

“Don’t let my actions make you believe that what we had wasn’t good, trouble.”

“Stop calling me that. Why are they all scared of me? Why won’t you let me touch you?” you whisper, putting pressure on his finger until the blood clots. It doesn’t even hurt, to tell you the truth. Not touching you when you’re right here in front of him is a pain he can’t find the words to describe. But what he’ll never understand is that he’s right. You two were good together. You’d have him through the bad too, if only he let you.

“Because you might think you can fix me.” Or worse, you might change his mind. You don't have to say you love him for him to know it. A part of him wishes he didn’t have to do all of this to prove to you he feels the same.

“Would you have left with me?” he mutters. A wistful look cuts through your anger and he knows he’s finally said something right. His pocket knife is on the control board and your hands drop to your side again when you realize that he may have forgotten to tell his battalion of who you are to him, but he still remembers how you like your apples cut. The silence is loud, even with the twinge that comes with the pain in your eardrum as you sway a little on your feet. Your body still knows it can relax with him, knees buckling with a false sense of security despite your willpower.

“I would've made it so that there was no other option for you but to want to stay.”

A soldier bursts through the door and apologizes for the intrusion, but the both of you have found out all you need to know. The moment is over and Percy Jackson has been captured by the army in his efforts of trying to save the day. There’s a look shared between the two of you that wonders if this will become a trend.

—

Licking your lips as your…Luke guides you out onto the main deck with your hands behind your back, you can taste the salt in your air. It’s almost as evident as the surprise in your friends’ faces when they see you alive. This time, they don’t question your allegiance but in the chaos that ensues, for a moment, you do.

For a moment, you wonder what would change if you decided to stay with him. Would the sky fall under your feet? Would the gods kneel like Luke said they would? Looking at him in your periphery, you realize it’s not what the both of you want, even if it’s the easier way out—to be together despite it all.

The two of you against the world instead of the world against the both of you.

But he won't even touch you—he’s holding you over the sleeves of your shirt, too scared of what you’ve become in his absence. You suppose you’re scared of what he’s become too.

The realization hits that you could defect from your friends, family, and home. You could undo everything that you and your friends have worked towards. But nothing he can say will change the fact that he didn’t choose you.

Luke was right, then.

You did have a choice, one that he still forces you to make as you nod at Percy to flip his last drachma into the open water, opening a direct line of communication to your father to catch the thief—of both lightning and the beat of your heart, in the act.

You realize that if the gods were the least bit grateful that you’ve kept their kids alive for the past half-decade, perhaps fate would be on your side and Luke would still be yours. But life has a funny way of working itself out when Luke admits to the open air of another crime to tack onto his list.

“Kronos was right. I should’ve killed you, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon goads Luke into another duel and you survey your surroundings for a way out. Annabeth burns holes into the side of your head and it gets you thinking, moving faster than you have in days as you walk towards her and Grover. At the raise of your hand, the demigods holding onto the pair drop to the deck, incapacitated with illusions of madness they will never comprehend. The more of them that surround you drop like flies as Luke’s eyes flicker between you and the boy he has at swordpoint.

You’ve gotten stronger in his absence—you never needed to touch him to use your powers after all. Just waiting for the right moment to strike, attacking when Luke finally let his guard down for you. He cracks his neck, knowing you’ve made your choice, so he makes his.

“Get them.”

The monster scrambles across the deck but it approaches you first, clawing at the wood and barely missing your feet as you scream for help, defenseless without a sword and you hear Luke yell your name in alarm before a punching glove-tipped arrow sends it hurtling overboard.

Your eyes lock with his again as you disembark with the Party Ponies, you with your crew as he corrals the mess you made of his. It has to be the salt air that makes your eyes seem a little misty.

Your fates have always been tied.

You protect your home, and he does what he can to protect you. Luke looks over your form like he’s checking if you’re okay, even from a distance— and it makes you wonder if this is how it's supposed to be. Someone leaving, and the both of you apart.

It’s weird to be the one leaving this time, but it isn't as easy as Luke makes it seem each time he does it. You avert your eyes once you see him put his hand in his pocket, him finding what you snuck in on the way to the deck. Luke pulls out a leather bracelet with a black camp bead, the one he missed in the year he’s been gone. He rolls the bead between his fingers, the thing you last touched before leaving him, an emblem of his archnemesis and the summer that changed everything—the consequences of his actions ripping you away from him. When he slides it on his wrist, it lightly clinks against the hilt of his sword, the lone clay bead a force of its own against Backbiter's reverberating power. He feels nostalgia for what could have been crawling through him—though Luke supposes he’s always been too vulnerable when it comes to you.

Is this what you’ve been feeling every time he walks away?

It starts to rain after you leave. Luke watches his crew take cover from the downpour, running in all different directions to hide away from the storm that ravages the Princess Andromeda.

But he stands still, looking up at the sky and hating it for how openly it’s able to cry. Luke is far away from home again—from you and it makes him wonder how much longer he’ll have to be away from you when being with you is what he truly wants.

The mission continues and the ship keeps pushing forward even as the rain washes over him, soaking through his armor and straight to the bone. Raindrops pelt through every crevice, though this onslaught is much kinder, more gentle, even when it’s angry. He closes his eyes and lets it touch his skin.

For a moment, it feels like you.

—

A hand penetrates the tide searching for yours, gripping onto your unconscious one. He’s spent hours ripping holes through time to try to find you, an advantage given to him in a dream by the Titan. The agreement, what keeps him from not running back to you is that you live—and as Luke pulls you out of the ocean waterlogged and turning blue, he wonders if it’s all a farce.

Losing you isn’t worth the wrath of the gods if you’re lifeless in his arms like this.

He shouts your name, pumping your chest with his fists and breathing life back into your lips until you cough out saltwater, head lolling against his knee. Luke’s fingers stroke your hair, touching you for the first time in a year. As life slowly brings the color back into your cheeks he silently thanks Hestia for keeping your flame alight. His soldiers call out to him from the deck, and he steels his resolve as he rows the lifeboat back to the ship. Still, Luke has to uphold his side of the agreement.

He wonders if you’d stay. Even if he knows the answer, Luke wonders if you would ever change it for him.

—

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. –Patricia Smith

½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader

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himegureisu · 1 month

Text

Time

Summary: Your love language is quality time. However, your husband is the King of Mirkwood.

A/N: I was supposed to write a Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader. However, this idea popped up and went brr in my head and then my fingers. I needed to finish it before it went so here it goes my first for this pairing I hope you enjoy! (And good night for me because it’s 4AM also not proofread)

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

——————————— 🍃 ———————————

“What was it, meleth nín?” Thranduil asked, “I apologize our time is to be cut short again,”

It was the nth time someone interrupted your strolls to whisk him away for a matter of utmost significance and to be honest, you were tired of it.

Trying so desperately to take time between the day to see him. To get a moment of his time.

He was a King.

A title that holds responsibilities he could not neglect. You know that. However, you didn’t expect to be pushed aside.

“It’s nothing,” you fake a smile, “You should go they need you,”

But I need you too.

You didn’t try after that.

Your handmaiden noticed your melancholy days after the incident. It was like he didn’t notice you were gone.

Yes, you did eat together most of the time. However, you didn’t pop by his office during your free time. You didn’t leave snacks anymore for him to munch on when he forgets to eat. You didn’t propose to walk so you could both stretch your legs. You didn’t wait for him to go to bed.

Contrary to your belief, your husband did notice your absence.

His days were often tedious and tiring. Your short visits were always something he looked forward to. The bright spot to his days so when palace staff gossip came through his ears…

“The Queen seems pale. Is she ill?” a soft feminine voice asked in concern,

“Oh, why would she be ill?” a different voice, an ellon this time, “Maybe she’s expecting a child!”

“She could be ill because of the child.” the elleth remarks, as another joins in the conversation,

“The Queen is not expecting I would know.”your handmaiden divulged as much, No, she seems dejected.”

“The King has been busy…”

Her words echoed in his mind because it was true. His thoughts wandered to those moments your times were constantly interrupted and the day you last visited.

Oh.

“Where is the Queen?” he asks your handmaiden, who exited the study, a book on hand for you.

“At the gardens, My Lord,” she simply answered.

“That’s for her?” he gestured to the book, she nods meekly, “I’ll take it to her. Go tend to your other duties,”

Your handmaiden scurries off in fear and intimidation to go prepare your clothes for the evening. On the other hand, your husband quickly makes his way to the gardens where he couldn’t see you.

“By Valar,” he mumbles frustratedly, walking through the foliage, “Where are you?”

Your soft sniffles give you away.

Between two trees, there was a hammock tied on to their sturdy barks. On the hammock, beneath a thick blanket, you hug his pillow as your tears fell down your cheeks.

From outside your cocoon, the grass crackle as slow footsteps approach your hideout.

Your book finally.

“Did you find that book I asked for?”

“I did,”

A different voice answered. One you haven’t heard from in what seemed like days. His voice.

“Meleth nín,” he breathed out, “Please do not hide from me,”

“I’m hardly presentable,” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, as the hammock tilts a bit on one side, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting of sorts?”

“No,” he frowns, sitting on the edge of the fabric, the book left on by his side, “I don’t care if you’re presentable or not. I’m not the kingdom,”

Slowly, you emerge from your shell to be greeted by his silver eyes, dull in color much like your own has been these past couple of weeks.

“Oh, meleth,”

There were dark shadows beneath your eyes. Your cheeks were stained with dry tears and nose flush from mucus buildup. His heart twisted beneath his chest at the sight of you.

What has he done?

“Oh, meleth nín,” he said, taking you in his arms for a warm embrace you missed, “I’m sorry. I am a fool,”

He hated being the cause of your tears.

“You were,” your voice cracked, as you tuck yourself beneath his chin savoring his presence, “I missed you so much,”

“I missed you too,” he kisses your forehead, and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out, didn’t make the time, made you cry, made you feel like this…”

Your tears fall once again down your cheeks to his robes. He noticed. He noticed your absence after all.

“You are my starlight, my reason to go on,” he softly declared, “I promise I’ll try to do better,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I needed” you quietly admit, “I thought I’d be bother you already do so much,”

“You are never a bother,” he adamantly says, glancing down to see you also looking at him, “You are always welcome to whisk me away from the duties of court. I’d rather you than them.”

“Their needs are much more important than mine,” you say.

“But your needs are the most important to me,” his words caused your heart to flutter in the most endearing ways. “You are the most important to me. You do not need to vie for my time or attention. You will always have it. Though, I may not notice it at times you should not hesitate to tell me.”

“If so, can we just stay like this?” you breathed out tiredly against his chest, your ear to his heart beating soundly beneath, “I just… need you,”

“We can,” he gently kisses your forehead, as your eyelids droop down, “It would be a pleasure,”

“Thranduil,” you softly whisper, as he places his forgotten pillow beneath your heads, “Gi melin,”

“Gi melin, meleth nín,” his fingers tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear as you settled on his chest, “Sleep. I will be here when you wake,”

It wasn’t long until you did.

Your breaths soft and even as Thranduil gently places the book on the ground so neither of you gets stabbed by its’ edges. He pulls you the closest he could, you unconsciously grasp tight.

Just the way you both liked it.

He lays there quietly observing the heavens, where scattered white clouds and birds of the realm adorned the blue skies, wondering how he was so lucky to have fallen for a second time to you.

He didn’t know what time it was and frankly, he didn’t care when his eyes slowly surrendered to the thrall of slumber joining you in blissful rest for the afternoon.

He would do better. He was going to do better. For you.

#fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #lord of the rings

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strangersmunsons · 2 months

Text

bark at the moon

there's something suuuuper weird in your garage. your best friend Robin calls up her old pals, Steve and Eddie, to come and take a look.

Contains: Eddie x Fem!Reader. Mix of canon & Modern AU, w/ tweaks to established lore (faithfulness to the source material? I don’t know her). Plot of the show is more or less the same, but focus will be on minor threats escaping from the Upside Down, and no more. Everyone is aged up a bit, timeline of events is kept vague. Reader learns some secrets that are tough to wrap her head around, Eddie is an awkward sweetheart, and platonic!Stobin reigns supreme. Word Count: ~8.1k Warnings: Some brief descriptions of gore. Reader has a mild panic attack. Mentions of food & eating. Strong language. I've been tinkering away at this fic since the summer; it's a little different than the sweet & fluffy stuff I normally post, but I had a blast writing it! So I hope you guys enjoy! 🩷

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“I will.” You smack a kiss to Robin’s cheek and push your stool back against the bar. “Try not to get into too much trouble tonight. It’s only Thursday.”

“No promises,” Vickie chimes in, grinning toothily at you, cheeks flushed from a mix of joy and booze.

“I mean it.” You jab a finger in her direction, only half-jokingly. “If you FaceTime me again at 3 AM so I can provide ‘emotional support’ while you’re puking your guts out in the bathroom, I’m hanging up.”

Vickie doesn’t even blink. “You won’t hang up,” she replies dismissively.

She’s totally right, but you don’t say so.

“Just try and keep your insides where they belong, please. They should be, y’know — on the inside. Alright? I love you both. Goodnight!” You blow another dramatic kiss in their direction as you saunter out of the bar, weaving between sticky tables over the even-stickier floor to the exit.

Lizzy’s is you, Robin, and Vickie’s favorite haunt, a nondescript dive bar located on the outskirts of town. It’s a squat, dingy little building tucked neatly away into a thicket of trees at the deadend of a backroad. There’s no neighbors or rival businesses in sight, just a small parking lot with a defunct telephone booth that probably hasn’t worked in several decades. The bar is usually only frequented by patrons belonging to one of two exclusive sects: members of the local biker gang, and this random lesbian couple and their one friend.

Truly a hidden gem.

Happy Hour at Lizzy’s has been a tradition for you and Robin (and Vickie, when she chooses to tag along) since you met at work retreat a year ago. When you caught sight of her funky patched-up blazer and choppy hairstyle, you immediately clocked her as the other youngest, coolest person in the room and forced your friendship upon her in the name of survival. Who else were you gonna hang out with for an entire weekend — Matt from HR who, ironically, was on probation for sending a coworker unsolicited dick pics? No way.

“Hey, can you hold the other side of my bag open for me? I’m gonna jam these cookies in there — quickly, while no one’s looking.”

Two peas in a pod, stealing extra goodies from the complimentary snack table and gossiping in the back row during presentations when you should’ve been listening. You’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

Full of mirth from the quality time spent with your best friend, you hum cheerfully to yourself as you push through the exit and step outside. The door whacks shut behind you, closing you off from the bar’s warm interior, and immediately, you take notice of two things.

First, you’re met with a surprising chill in the air. It’s been pretty temperate so far this week, and pleasantly warm earlier in the day, but it’s become startlingly cold in the mere hours you were inside the bar. You swear you can see a frozen puff of breath each time you exhale. You hug your arms around yourself, frowning slightly. Gravel crunches under your feet as you walk to your car.

The second thing you notice is that it’s obscenely dark out. A single orange streetlamp flickers in the parking lot, illuminating little more than the fluttering moths bashing themselves stupidly into the bulb. There’s no moon in the black-velvet sky; it’s just a blanket of darkness above. You glance at the watch on your wrist, but the time is indiscernible without proper lighting. I guess it’s later than I thought?

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There’s a gross, inexplicable feeling of nakedness as you cross the lot; the cold, unexpected dark and loss of time has you feeling disoriented and exposed. Naturally, your mind begins dredging up scenes from every horror movie you’ve ever watched, and you pick up the pace. Reaching the car, you wrench open the driver-side door, eager to be within the safe confines of the vehicle.

You slide in, and release a relieved breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Slumping back against the seat, you think, Man, I gotta lay off the slasher flicks.

The moment doesn’t last long. Another bolt of paranoia suddenly shoots through you — you whip your head around, searching the backseat for a killer lurking in the shadows, waiting to slice your throat open, possibly with a machete, or maybe even a hook attached to a stumpy wrist.

Nothing there. Totally empty. Not even an extremely trim, flexible murderer contorting themselves out of view down on the cramped floor space.

“It’s fine,” you say aloud to no one in particular, turning forward again. You start the car and ease out of the lot, switching the radio to a pop station — your last line of defense. No one ever got brutally murdered while listening to Britney.

Thankfully, the ride is uneventful, and nobody pops up behind you with any instruments of violence. The further you get into town, with its familiar lights and gentle hum of nighttime traffic, the more at ease you feel. Your mind drifts, thinking of work, what you’ll make for dinner tomorrow, whether or not Vickie will be throwing up within the next hour. Any mundane topic that’ll help calm your nerves.

Eventually you reach home and pull into the garage. It’s a miracle you can even still park in there, it’s so full of junk — old furniture and hardware tools and odds and ends you haven’t had the energy to try and sort through.

A sigh escapes as you cross the threshold that separates the garage from the house. The sweet, homey kitchen is a welcome sight to enter. You put a kettle on for a cup of tea before bed, and decide to dial Robin while you wait for the water to boil.

She picks up after several rings.

“Hello my love.”

“Hi Rob. I’m alive.”

“Oh, good. That would’ve been awkward if it was someone else calling me.”

“Are you still at the bar?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving in a few. Vickie says she’s fine, but she’s got that look in her eye, so…”

There’s a faint “I am fine!” in the background and you snicker. “Good luck with that.”

Robin snorts. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Robin bids you goodnight, and you feel a rush of affection for her. Your roommate recently moved out to go live with her boyfriend, leaving you as the sole tenant of the house. Although you reassured her endlessly that you had no issues living alone, Robin was insistent on constantly checking up on you lest you ‘get SVUed’ — her phrasing, not yours.

The kettle starts whistling, and you pour the steaming water into a mug with a bag of chamomile. You plop down on the soft cushion tied to the kitchen chair, letting the weariness of the day settle in your bones.

You scroll idly through your phone while sipping your tea, ignoring the slight burn it leaves on your lips and tongue. The old house settles and creaks while you relax, making those soft noises that you’ve become accustomed to over time. In fact, you’re so used to it by now that in your sleepy state, you don’t even register the odd sound in the garage, a sort of thunk, not unlike that of a confused bird flying into a picture window.

When the last drop of tea is gone, you place the mug in the dishwasher and head for your bedroom. You go through the steps of your night routine as though on autopilot before finally crashing into the plush bed. Within minutes, sleep takes you.

The sound of your alarm is innocuous enough — a small tinkle of bells or chimes or whatever cheerful twee instrument it is that Apple is using.

It’s incredible how something so innocent can sound so ungodly. Ugh.

Barely lifting your head up off the pillow, you drag the trilling device towards you with snatching fingers and turn it off. Maybe you’ll get up when the second alarm goes off, but let’s be honest — it probably won’t be until the third, and even then you might steal a few extra minutes under the covers.

Eventually you manage to pull yourself upright and, with a huge yawn, lurch out of bed. You shuffle down the hall, thinking of little more than the bagel you’re gonna demolish before jumping in the shower, and make your way back into the kitchen. Your bare feet pad softly across the linoleum floor, cold and sticking slightly to your heels. The sky outside the window is a dark, deep blue.

Then finally, in the stillness of the early morning, you hear a dull thud.

You pause halfway to the toaster.

Ten seconds go by. Silence.

Okay, that’s fine, it’s probably noth–

Thud.

Goddamn it.

There’s a stab of alarm as the sound repeats again, then twice more in rapid succession. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and grab the softball bat you keep propped up by the door. Safety first.

You tiptoe cautiously to the door separating the kitchen and the garage, thinking it’s probably a raccoon or something, he slipped inside when I drove in last night. Actually, there’s so much shit in there, he’s probably been living there for weeks. I really should call a Junk King –

You push the door open slowly, peering around the edge, prepared to fight. Your self-defense weapon is made of bright pink aluminum that catches the dim kitchen light emanating from behind you, glinting in your hands. You’re pretty sure it’s a little-league number so, clearly, it’ll be an even match for whatever it is that awaits you.

At first, nothing appears out of the ordinary. There’s no human silhouettes lurking in the dark. Everything is more or less the same as it was last night. The car is right where you left it, and the windows are intact. The spare furniture crammed against the perimeter is still there – nothing is missing or vandalized. But the room is still too dark for you to make out any less obvious differences, so you reach for the lightswitch on the left side of the doorframe.

And then, from the far corner of the room, up towards the ceiling, there’s an ear-splitting screech that nearly stops your heart.

Before you even have time to blink, a shadowy mass is suddenly flying straight at you. It’s still mostly obscured in the dark — whatever it is — a nebulous blur that swings in a low arc across the room. It’s moving so quickly that the air whistles as the creature cuts a path through it.

You let out a shriek of your own and spring backwards, slamming the door shut. It’s just barely closed when it collides into the wood with a frightening crash. You lock the door with numb fingers and slump back against it with your heart in your throat, and a hot, loose feeling in your lower stomach that, in the midst of your hysteria, you manage to acknowledge as a warning that you might shit your pants.

You lurch forward and spin around, now watching the door with wide eyes. The noise from before, which you now understand must have been that thing flinging itself against the walls, resumes with a fervor that makes you sick with fright. It slams into the door relentlessly, and you physically cringe with each hit.

With shaking hands, you pull one of the kitchen chairs out and prop it underneath the door handle. You really don’t think it could be strong enough to break through, but…

At least you don’t think —

“Robin, I’m about to die.”

“...at six-thirty in the morning? Can you put it off until this afternoon, at least?”

Robin’s voice is still thick with sleep and there’s no doubt that she’s irritated by your early phone call, but right now, you could care less.

“I think there’s some kind of cryptid in my garage.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Come again?”

“Like, I think the fucking Jersey Devil is in there, or something. When I got up this morning I kept hearing this weird noise, so I put my big girl panties on and went to investigate –”

“By yourself? Are you dumb? What if someone was in there?”

“Hey, I had protection, okay? Besides, I figured it was probably a racoon. If it had been a person planning on hurting me, they weren’t being very discreet about it –”

“Alright, alright. Continue.”

“So I open the door, and next thing I know, this thing screams and starts fucking flying directly at my head. I didn’t get a good look at it, Rob, it was too dark, but that thing is out for blood. It keeps flying into the door. Listen to this shit.”

You put your phone on speaker and hold it out, standing as close to the door as you’re willing to get.

“Um, I can’t hear anything.”

“...well…it was doing it earlier...”

“...right. So, what, a bird flew into your garage?”

“A bird? Maybe.” That sort of fit, right? Whatever it was, it had wings. It was kind of big. It made noise. You consider. “Could be a bat, I suppose.”

Across town, Robin suddenly sits bolt upright in bed. Vickie mumbles incoherently next to her, half-awake from hearing your too-early conversation.

“I’m coming over,” Robin says abruptly, and hangs up.

Flinging herself out of bed, Robin begins dressing frantically, scrambling to pull a pair of jeans up over her bare legs. Drawers and closet doors bang open and slam shut again. Vickie groans from beneath her pillow. “Could you keep it down, please?”

“No, sorry babe. Gotta go. I’ll explain later.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You rub your temples in irritation and throw yourself back down on the couch. You’ve taken refuge in the living room while you wait for Robin, and have spent the past fifteen minutes going back and forth with animal control. Trying to convince them to come get this thing out of your house? An exercise in futility.

A frantic knocking makes you jump, before you realize it’s coming from outside the house. You cautiously enter the kitchen again and when you see Robin’s face through the small pane of glass in the front door, your whole body sags with relief. You fling it open breathlessly and throw yourself at her. “Thank God!” The words are muffled, as your face is pressed into her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay!” She slings her arm around you in a hug and pats your back. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

You release her and start venting your frustration. “Yeah, we’ll have to. I tried calling animal control and apparently they can’t do anything since it’s not a dog or a cat, and they kept telling me I had to call a wildlife removal agency instead, and they just kept going on about how they have to send a professional who specializes in birds or bats or whatever the hell it is, and that it’s gonna cost me like at least two hundred bucks –”

Robin cuts off your rambling. “I don’t think you should call anyone.”

You huff. “I certainly don’t want to, if it’s gonna cost me that much. I thought this was what animal control did. What am I paying taxes for?”

Robin’s been here all of two minutes and you already feela little better. The run-in earlier had frightened you, certainly, but you’re no longer alone in the house with an eldritch horror.

Robin shakes her head. “No, I mean I already called someone.”

That stops you, and you squint at her in confusion. “Who? You know a guy who handles this kinda thing?”

“...actually, I know two.”

Eddie’s green-and-white van screams around the corner, practically making the turn on two wheels.

“Jesus, Munson, slow down!”

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a certified expert driver. My insurance company said so.”

A Megadeth song that Steve doesn’t know thumps out of the speakers at a deafening volume. Eddie drums his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music, headbanging as vigorously as he can manage without taking his eyes completely off the road.

Steve reaches for the stereo knob and turns it down. Eddie shoots him a disgruntled look from the driver’s seat. “Hey, man —”

“We got somewhere to be, alright? I told Robin we’d get there ASAP. The last thing we need is for you to wrap this thing around a telephone pole.”

“If she didn’t move so far away, we would already be there,” Eddie complains.

“Dude, she lives like an hour away now. Hour and a half, tops.”

“Well, that’s a long drive when it’s this early!”

Waiting for Robin’s reinforcements to arrive provides ample time for her to shatter your world. You sit together on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other in intense silence. Your brow is deeply furrowed, eyes nearly shut from the force of the expression.

“Are you being for real, or is this an elaborate lie you’re making up that you’ll laugh at me for falling for later?”

Robin drags her finger across her chest, drawing an imaginary X. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. “Yeah, it sounds fucking crazy!”

Robin’s expression turns resentful. “Hey, you’re the one who called me saying Mothman was in your garage this morning –”

“I said the Jersey Devil, actually, but c’mon! An interdimensional monster. Is that real? Can that really be real?”

“Listen, just think about what you saw. You were pretty freaked. Did it really seem like some rabied-up household pest?”

It didn’t. The odd, kite-like shape, the speed with which it flew, and the utter determination — there was no doubt in your mind that it had dived at you deliberately, with the malicious intent to bite and scratch and hurt. You remember the hot taste of fear in your mouth, like a bitter pill dissolved on the tongue.

“No, it didn’t,” you admit quietly. That thing, whatever it was, was weird. But that doesn’t make Robin’s story any easier to swallow.

When it came to the supernatural or…whatever this was considered, you were neither a believer nor a skeptic. You weren’t willing to fully corroborate the existence of such things until you had experienced something like it yourself, but you still took others’ reports in stride; if someone claimed that they felt cold spots in their grandmother’s bedroom after she died, or that their belongings often ended up in odd places despite no one moving them, then you rolled with it. Who were you to deny their experiences? You wouldn’t tell them they’re wrong.

But Robin’s Upside Down, well…it’s giving less childhood ghost story and more Stephen King novel. One of the weirder ones too, that he wrote when he was still snorting a ton of cocaine. She’s on some Tommyknockers shit.

“You’ll see,” Robin promises. “When we kill it, you can get a good look at it.”

“Right, about that. Steve is your himbo friend from home, right?”

Robin smiles proudly. “The one and only.”

“But he’s good at this? Getting rid of these things?”

She nods eagerly. “Oh, very. I know I say he’s a himbo, but I’m selling him short, really, he’s the best. Best guy I know, in fact.”

You hear the pointed lilt in her voice, the one that’s always there when Robin mentions Steve to you. You roll your eyes. “There’s a monster in my garage, and you’re worried about getting me a date?”

Robin throws her hands up in defiance. “I’m just sayin’! He and his girlfriend Nancy broke up.” Her face suddenly lights up as she remembers a bit of gossip. “She’s bisexual now, by the way! Shame she didn’t realize it when we were in high school together, I had a huuuuge crush on her.”

“I thought you had a huge crush on Vickie in high school?”

“I did,” she says, as though there’s nothing contradictory about that fact. “Listen, I’m a complex, multifaceted lesbian, with a lot of —“

She’s interrupted by the knocking at the front door, and both of your heads turn automatically towards the sound.

It’s your second house-call of the day. Robin jumps up, winking at you. “It’s gonna be fine,” she whispers, and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

You follow her back into the kitchen, where you’re promptly welcomed by the sight of two boy-faces smushed shamelessly against the glazing in the door.

Robin rolls her eyes and yanks it open.

Without the door in place to support him, one boy loses his balance and topples forward, crashing into the kitchen. The other boy, who pulled back in time, laughs openly at him.

“Hey, dinguses, this isn’t my house, remember? Don’t be weird.”

“There’s not a day in Munson’s life that he hasn’t been weird.”

The one pulling himself up off the floor grunts out, “I resent that.” When he’s fully upright, he gazes at you with wide eyes and a slight frown, not saying anything.

Robin steps in and they each take turns embracing her in greeting. One of them even ruffles her hair affectionately, and you watch the three of them with interest.

You’ve seen enough pictures of Steve Harrington by now that you could pick him out from a mile away. Of the two boys he’s taller, and more classically handsome, with his pretty features and artfully-sculpted hair. In his neat green pullover and pressed jeans, you can totally picture King Steve as he was in high school — athletic and rich and preppy, with his equally rich and preppy girlfriend.

While you recognize Steve immediately, this other boy you know less. He looks only vaguely familiar, perhaps a background figure in Robin’s photos. His dark hair is long, curly and disheveled, and his eyes are huge and starkly brown against his pale skin. Despite the early hour they must’ve left at, he's taken the time to deck himself out in black leather and loads of silver jewelry.

After he releases Robin, Steve introduces himself. He saunters forward confidently, one hand extended out towards you. “I’m Steve,” he says with a charming smile. He cocks his head slightly to the side, and there’s a brief pause for dramatic effect. “Steve Harrington.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see Robin holding a hand over her eyes in embarrassment. The other boy shoots him a dirty look.

You shake his hand politely, mildly amused. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

When Steve releases your hand, the dark-haired one gives you an awkward wave. “I’m Eddie.”

The name rings a bell. You wave back and smile at him kindly. “Hi, Eddie.”

He shuffles his feet, Reeboks squeaking against the linoleum, not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m really glad you both are here,” you add, glancing between the two boys. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Our pleasure,” Steve replies. “Always happy to be of service —”

“So,” Eddie cuts in, “where did you find this little fucker, anyway?”

“The garage.” Your voice is soft with trepidation. “The door’s right there.”

Three sets of eyes, blue and hazel and brown, follow the line of your pointed index finger. The chair is still jammed underneath the knob in a feeble attempt to barricade the door.

“Alright, we just need to grab our stuff from the van,” Eddie tells you. “And we’ll take care of it. If there’s only one, it shouldn’t take us long at all.”

You nod, like this is all good and normal and not the weirdest morning of your life. “Okay.”

When they move to head outside again, Steve eyes your little pink aluminum softball bat, back in its place in the corner. He smiles. “Hey, I got one of those!“

Eddie jogs lightly to catch up with Steve as he strides to where the van is parked outside.

“Hey,” he hisses, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You didn’t tell me this was Robin’s hot friend.”

“Huh?” Steve squints at him, disgruntled. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know, literally anyone?”

“If I’m talking about Robin’s friend, then I’m talking about her. I didn’t realize I had to clarify.” He yanks the trunk open, and his voice takes on a more taunting tone. “Why? You nervous that a girl is actually speaking to you for once?”

Eddie steps back, visibly stung. “Hey, fuck you, man.”

Steve and Eddie’s friendship is not as tenuous as it once was, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Steve softens immediately, face painted with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair. He sighs. “I bumped into Nancy at the store yesterday, I’m not in a good mood.”

Eddie nods awkwardly, not really sure how to answer. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, um…again.”

“Thank you…for that reminder,” Steve replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. “That we dated twice, and then also broke up twice.”

Eddie just smiles and claps him on the back. “I’m here for you, brother.”

From the kitchen window, you can see Steve and Eddie trudging back towards the house fully armed. Steve is holding a wooden baseball bat hammered-through with nails, and Eddie has what appears to be a makeshift spear — really, it’s just a big stick with a knife jerry-rigged on the end.

Robin takes in your open-mouthed shock. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, dumbfounded, staring. “This is fine.”

The boys reenter. Steve smiles brilliantly at you, face clearing of some previous sourness you don’t know the cause of, and gestures with his bat to yours. “We can upgrade that for you, if you want,” he jokes.

You chuckle uneasily, panic setting in as you stare at the lethal-looking spikes of the nails. “Heh…maybe later.”

Eddie watches you carefully, the way your fingers scrunch nervously into the fabric of your sleep shirt, and the occasional, rapid twist of your head that you can’t seem to control, like you’re desperately trying to clear your mind of something awful.

Robin glances down at her buzzing phone, Vickie’s name and face popping up on the homescreen for the hundredth time this morning — apparently, she’s now awake and frantic that her clumsy girlfriend may have yet again gotten herself involved in some wild, life-threatening shenanigan.

“Just give me a minute, she’s freaking out,” Robin mumbles, pushing past you and into the living room for privacy.

Steve turns his back to you as he goes to remove the chair from under the knob, and Eddie takes this small opportunity to move closer to you. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he took your trembling hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “We’re not gonna let that thing get at you.”

You manage a nod, overwhelmed. Eddie reaches out and pats your arm but pulls back quickly, like he’s afraid to touch you for too long.

Steve calls your name, and you turn to him, distracted.

The chair is back in its place at the table, and he gestures to the now-unprotected door. “Is it crowded in there?”

“Very,” you confirm. The untidy chaos in the garage would normally embarrass you, but given the circumstances, you’re a little beyond caring. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll try and be really careful about your stuff.”

“But no promises,” Eddie adds, a smile touching his lips for the first time.

You try to smile back, still feeling bizarrely distraught. “Just try not to break my windshield, please.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like a reasonable enough request.”

“Okay, Munson, you ready?”

“Yeah.” Eddie joins him by the door. There hasn’t been any more noise from the garage since you heard it this morning — you don’t know what that bodes for them.

They brace themselves, weapons raised and at the ready. With a flick of his wrist Steve opens the door, which slowly creaks open. Shoulders hunched, he crosses the threshold, and switches the light on. You watch with bated breath, anticipating the sharp cry to be uttered at any moment.

Nothing happens.

Both Steve and Eddie cautiously enter the garage, watching for any signs of life. Steve starts jabbing at the little nooks and crannies amongst your things, trying to poke it out of hiding.

Eddie crouches down on the ground and peers underneath your car.

“See anything?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not yet,” answers Eddie in a low voice.

Steve peels a dusty tarp off of an old end table, opens up a discarded cabinet. “Come on,” he mutters.

Three agonizing minutes go by as they pick their way through the room, searching under and over and behind every bit of junk, neither boy finding what they’re looking for.

“Maybe it got out,” Steve muses, standing upright, relaxing his grip on the bat, letting it rest casually against his shoulder.

You shift uncertainly, still hovering from your post at the half-open door. “Would that be good or bad?”

“Good for us. Bad for the neighbors,” says Eddie.

Suddenly a streak of dark gray erupts from behind Steve.

You barely have time to yell; Steve, feeling the ripple of wind on the back of his neck, whirls around.

The creature beats its leathery wings and it’s moving up and up until it reaches the ceiling, circling the room, no doubt gauging which angle it should dive at and towards who.

Instinct tells you to slam the door shut, like you did earlier, but then Eddie and Steve will be trapped. Instead you leave the door ajar, crouched in pathetic terror. The boys recover their stances quickly, muscles tensed, ready to swing and jab their respective weapons the moment it comes within in striking distance. Their faces are twin mirrors of fierce determination.

The creature goes for Steve first, swooping down on him; you’re horrified to see its open mouth is full of concentric rows of spiny teeth. You utter a sharp cry, almost unable to look, certain that he’s about to be mauled by this terrible thing.

And the creature is fast.

But Steve is faster.

There’s a horrible sound, a meaty thwack! as the baseball bat smashes into the monster, sending it careening over your parked car like a gnarly fastball. It hits the wall and slides to the floor.

Eddie wastes no time in slamming one heavy boot down on a tattered wing, pinning the dazed thing into place. With one sharp jab, the knife pierces deep into the creature’s belly. He gives the spear a swift jerk, dragging the knife down, and cleaves the body almost completely in two. Its oily flesh is taut, but fragile; the thin skin surrounding the wound peels back, and it splits open like an over-full garbage bag, glistening, red-black insides seeping out onto the hard concrete floor.

Eddie whistles. “Goodnight.”

Gobsmacked by what just unfolded, you tiptoe into the garage. “Is…is it dead?”

“Yup,” says Eddie, nudging the thing with his foot. “This is kind of a small one,” he calls over to Steve.

Steve’s puffing slightly, shoulders heaving with adrenaline. “I noticed that. Probably not doing too hot out here in the real world.”

You gape at them both, eyes flitting between the two boys. Small?

You creep closer to the pulpy mass, getting your first good look at your uninvited guest. If you were right about one thing earlier, it’s that this is certainly no common house bat; it’s gray and rubbery, made of slick naked flesh, with a long twisted tail like braided rope. Its wings are shot through with six spidery limbs, its small head little more than a gaping maw lined with razors. And despite Eddie and Steve’s comments, to you? This thing seems enormous.

Eddie smiles at you proudly. “And just think — we did it all without breaking your windshield.”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, about that…”

There’s a dent in the passenger-side door of the car. You’re sure if you were to hold Steve’s bat at the right angle against the dinged metal, it would fit in the depression like a glove.

Robin appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against the doorframe, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hey. What’d I miss?”

The cleanup process is quick but dirty. Eddie scrapes up everything he can with a snow shovel of all things, and dumps the carcass unceremoniously into a Hefty bag — the real heavy-duty kind, with the red strings — as it was politely held open by Steve. Meanwhile, you scrub at the blood left behind, but it doesn’t do much. The ominous stain is likely etched into the garage floor forever.

Maybe you can throw a rug over it or something.

Robin yawns as she watches you work. “Can we go get breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’m down,” says Steve, motioning for you to hand him the scrubber clutched in your hand.

You hand it over, but warn him, “I don’t think this is coming out.” He starts scrubbing anyway.

Eddie pipes up. “Are there any good diners around here?”

You wince. “We just threw an eviscerated monster in the trash. Don’t you need, like, a refractory period to deal with that level of gross?”

He thinks it over for a moment, then smiles and shrugs. “No.”

Laughter bubbles up and spills over your lips uncontrollably. It starts out normal, but then you can’t stop, and then it sort of feels like maybe you’re hyperventilating.

Robin, your soulmate, bless her, is always in tune with your emotions. She reacts quickly, kneeling down beside you on the cold floor, and wraps an arm around you. “Hey,” she says gently. “Relax, just breathe. I know everything you heard and saw today is literally insane, but it’s all okay.”

Robin’s hick hometown. Parallel dimensions. Little girl with superpowers. Monsters. Something about a gate...Monsters. Monsters from said-parallel dimension. Monsters from said-parallel dimension finding their way inside your home. Monsters in your home.

“Jesus,” you gasp in frustration, knuckling stupid tears at the corners of your eyes. “What is this?”

“It’s a lot to take in, is what it is,” says Steve sympathetically. “But that thing’s dead, and you’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“The big bad stuff is already finished,” Eddie adds. You didn’t notice, but he’s crouched down right next to you, mirroring Robin’s position on your other side. “Not to mention,” he nudges you playfully, “you’ve got two pretty damn good exterminators on speed dial now, huh?” He places a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel the warm metal of his rings through your shirt.

You manage a weak mile. “True. That was pretty impressive,” you sniffle. His fingers give a reassuring little squeeze, but — again — is quick to let go.

He glances at Robin and Steve. “You know,” he starts in an accusatory tone, “you guys were definitely not this nice to me when I had to find out about all this shit.”

“We were in a time crunch,” Robin says dismissively. “You had to get with the program.”

The hysteria starts to wane; your body slumps a little under the combined weight of Robin and Eddie’s arms. “I changed my mind.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “About what?”

“…I want breakfast now.”

The ride to the diner gives you a chance to mull over the bizarre nature of the morning’s events. You let your head fall back on the seat and close your eyes; a stranger thing has never happened to you.

Part of you wonders why Robin never told you all this but you immediately dismiss the thought. Why would she, unless it was absolutely necessary, like today? In addition to being pretty far-fetched, the whole thing also sounds pretty fucking traumatic.

“What do you guys call those things again?” you mumble, turning to Eddie, who’s sitting next to you in the backseat of Robin’s car.

Eddie’s face turns pink when he hears you address him, though you can’t fathom why. “Uh, demobats.”

“Demobats,” you repeat. “How’d you come up with that?”

Steve pipes up from the passenger seat. “The first monster we saw from the Upside-Down was called a demogorgon. Some nerds named it.”

“Oh,” you say faintly.

“We can talk about something else,” says Robin. She looks at you anxiously in the rearview mirror, suspicious that you’re going to fall apart again.

“I’m fine, Rob. I’ve made my peace with it.” You pause, and amend. “I’m making my peace with it.”

“Oo-kay.” She drags out the first syllable, letting it be known that she doesn’t really believe you.

“Are there very many of these things?”

Steve seems to hesitate before he answers. “We don’t think so. Only a dozen or so managed to slip through the gate before it shut, and we think we got most of ‘em when they were still flapping around Hawkins. We found one that nearly crossed over the border into Ohio — we were keeping an eye on the papers — but other than that, this is the furthest out of town we’ve heard of them going.”

You process this, not really sure what to say. There’s not really much you can say. Instead, you turn your head to the window and watch the world race by through the glass, letting it slide past your eyes in a blur of green and blue.

The diner’s parking lot is mostly empty. Work should have already started for most — only a handful of elderly patrons are inside, sipping coffee at the bar and reading the paper.

The matronly waitress wiping down a table lets you know that the four of you can sit anywhere you like. Robin immediately slides into a booth by the window, well away from the other customers.

Steve takes the seat across from her, hoping you’ll sit on the bench next to him, but you plop down tiredly next to Robin instead. Eddie takes the last open spot, opposite from you.

A hush falls over the group while you peruse the menu. The waitress comes and takes orders; waters all around, coffee, and juice, a blueberry short stack for Robin, French toast for yourself, a breakfast burrito for Steve, and fried eggs and sausage for Eddie, with a bottle of hot sauce, please and thank you.

Polite chatter resumes, and quickly devolves into familiar banter around mouthfuls of food, though you stay quieter than the rest, thoroughly worn out. Steve and Robin’s camaraderie takes up the bulk of the conversation, anyway, both of them firing back and forth at each other with ease. You decide that you like Steve — he’s clearly grown into a genuinely nice guy, different from the high school boy Robin told you he once was, but it seems he’s retained just the perfect amount of bitchiness. It’s easy to see why she’s so fond of him.

You’re content to watch and listen to them with mild amusement (though Steve periodically directs his comments towards you, subtly watching your reaction to what he says) and it seems that Eddie is, too. You can’t tell if he’s used to being their third wheel or if he’s just being shy because there’s a new person around.

Robin and Steve enter a fierce debate about something or other — the prospective music career of someone named Tammy that you vaguely recall being a former crush of Robin's. You face Eddie and ask in a hushed tone, “Are they always like this?”

He swallows a bite of gooey, Tabasco-smothered egg. “Pretty much.”

“I wouldn’t have the energy,” you marvel.

Eddie chuckles. He shifts in his seat, and his leg bumps into yours under the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, turning pink again.

“That’s okay.” You study his face, which is angled down towards his plate, decidedly away from your gaze. His eyes are big and dark and warm, like sticky-sweet molasses.

“You have very pretty eyes,” you tell him matter-of-factly, just as there’s a lull in Robin and Steve’s argument. In tandem, both of them turn their heads to stare at you.

Surprise flickers across Eddie’s face when he realizes you’re speaking to him. His face warms to an even deeper red, but he looks pleased; and you’re glad for it.

“Thank you?” It comes out like a question.

“You’re welcome.” You nod and give him a soft smile, which he returns, and for a moment you might as well be the only two people in the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Robin watches the exchange with her head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised in surprise. You return to eating your breakfast, and she casts Steve an apologetic look. Eddie tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding his glee.

You excuse yourself to the restroom. As soon as you’re gone, Robin says, “Sorry, Steve.”

He just sighs in defeat, slumping back against the booth’s cushion. “Whatever.”

Eddie stabs a fork in his direction. “You’re not even over Wheeler yet, anyway. Let me have this.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “You’re still hung up on Nancy? Steve, come on.”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “You’re the one who said we should get back together!” he cries.

Robin’s mouth pulls to the side in mild guilt. “Which was a mistake on my part, I will admit.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” Eddie chimes in.

Steve turns his incredulous look to Eddie. “And don’t even get me started on what you told me about her —”

“I’m the last person you should be taking relationship advice from,” he interrupts nonchalantly.

Steve gapes at his so-called friends. Robin plows on.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not over Nance, I’m not letting you near my girl. She’s not gonna be your rebound; she deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” concurs Eddie, the word garbled around a forkful of food, “like me.”

Steve drops his head onto the table.

“And stop trying to flirt with her, so I can.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing such a great job at that so far,” says Steve sarcastically, forehead still pressed against the formica.

“I’m gettin’ warmed up! Just give me a second, Christ.”

Steve, though snarky on the outside, is still soft on the inside, and so feels a pang of sympathy — he knows why Eddie’s nervous around girls. One drunken night he, Eddie, and Dustin had been shotgunning cans of shitty beer in the Hendersons’ backyard, and he’d spilled his guts about the abysmal reality of his love life. Not that Steve’s is going much better, obviously. But Eddie had deep-rooted fears that went beyond Steve’s understanding, insecurities that harkened back to his childhood and twisted into trickier and trickier knots the older he got.

Eddie has his reasons to be nervous.

“Alright,” says Steve, finally yanking his head back up off the table. “I give, she’s all yours. But I’m gonna remind you — and don’t take this the wrong way — that all she’s done so far is give you a single compliment. Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late,” Eddie replies dreamily. “I’m already planning my proposal.”

Robin starts laughing, just as you approach the table again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Boys,” she replies without hesitation. She takes another sip of coffee. “I’m so glad I’m gay.”

You finish the rest of your breakfast. When the waitress offers to bring the checks around, you’re quick to foot the bill.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” you say among the chorus of protests. “I don’t know what I would have done if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

“Ended up in the Weekly World News,” Eddie teases.

“What a high honor that would have been.” You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

Steve drives everyone back to the house, and a wave of sadness washes over you as you all pile into the kitchen once more. The prospect of the boys’ departure fills you with a strange kind of emptiness; it hits you that you really don’t want them to leave. You’re already feeling attached.

You suppose being rescued from a monster is just one of those things that brings people closer together, like a family barbecue, or making a blood oath.

And truth be told, you feel slightly…uneasy. Discombobulated. Though the events of the morning are still fresh in your mind, the steps of your daily routine are drifting hazily back to you through the fog of shock. Normally at this hour, you’d be plugging away at work. You have an explanatory email to write to your boss for missing today, and you imagine Robin will be submitting something similar. A nine-to-five job, running errands, going to happy hour — they all seem so trivial. How are you supposed to go back to all those things as though nothing out of the ordinary happened? Knowing that your best friend used the free time she had between finishing high school and working retail to help save the world from monsters and government conspiracies and God only knows what other crazy shit?

It’s all too surreal. You grip the edge of the kitchen table with one hand, steadying yourself. Easy girl.

You glance around, then choose to settle your gaze on Eddie, soothed by all his dark, warm colors.

Steve checks his watch, sighing. “We should probably head back. I got the afternoon shift today.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that Family Video is still fucking open.”

Steve ignores this and immediately turns to you instead. “To clarify, I have a real job, too — I was part-time at my company, and now I’m transitioning to full-time.” He’s needlessly defensive. “Managing the video store’s been a nice side gig, but I swear I’m retiring.”

You blink. “You don’t have to defend Family Video to me, Steve. It’s a very respectable establishment.”

“Yeah,” agrees Eddie, “Fuck the government, you’re the real backbone of our society.”

“Fuck off, Munson.”

“Well, this has been a grand old time,” Robin interrupts their bickering, yawning and stretching her arms dramatically. “But I think I need to go home. Smooth things over with the wife before she starts panicking again.” As though suddenly remembering your earlier distress, she turns to you, frowning. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

Not wanting to burden your friend who is being oh-so-chill about the science-fiction film that is literally her life, you immediately lie. “No, I’m okay.”

Her bright blue eyes narrow, not believing you. “I’ll stay,” she says decidedly.

“No, Rob, I think I’m just gonna go to sleep, honestly.” You are tired. Your bones feel weary; you want nothing more than to collapse back into bed and slip into unconsciousness again. “You go ahead and go home.”

You shift your attention towards Steve and Eddie, who are both hanging quietly by the door.

“Again, I can’t thank you guys enough. Really,” you tell them again, stepping forward with arms outstretched. It doesn’t matter that you just met; you need a proper goodbye from both of them. Right away Steve obliges, and wraps his arms around you, patting your back gently before stepping away again.

Eddie hesitates, looking bashful when you turn to him next, and you lower your arms in embarrassment. You don’t want to make him feel like he has to hug you if he doesn’t want to. But before you can feel too stung about it, he steps forward and embraces you tightly.

It’s oddly intimate — his arms are low, circled around your waist, and his cheek presses against your hair. He sighs, a soft exhale that you can’t see or hear but rather, you feel. The creeping sense of loss grows stronger when he releases you again.

“See you soon, I hope.” Steve gives you a final wave, when he’s halfway out of the house. “We should all get together sometime. Y’know, on non-monster related business,” he jokes.

“For sure,” you promise, fluttering your fingers back at him.

“And if you ever need anything,” Eddie’s low voice is suddenly close to your ear, “just let me — us — know. We’ll be here before you know it.”

You let out a small, shuddery breath. “Thank you,” you whisper gratefully, touched by his attentiveness. Eddie seems to be the only other person who understands the gravity of what you’ve seen. Robin and Steve have been in the game too long, perhaps, and although they’re understanding, the remarkability of their Upside Down has worn off.

Eddie, however, doesn’t appear to have achieved quite the same level of nonchalance that they have, and when he looks at you, his concern is tangible. It’s etched in the set of his frown, practically staring out at you from those big eyes of his. Those big, pretty eyes.

“See you around,” he says softly.

And with that, he’s gone.

thank you for reading!!! 🦇💙

taglist: @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #god i hope this pacing is okay? this is the longest fic I’ve ever written #can’t tell if I’ve jammed too much in here or not enough 🤷🏻‍♀️

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cerisekoo · 2 months

Text

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

a/n: hi everyone! i decided to write something for hobi day! I know I'm a little late but I had fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

warnings: cnc, forest fucking, chasing, spitting, hair pulling, humiliation, degrading, fingering, p&v sex, slight overstimulation.

“I had fun tonight, thank you for everything babe,” your boyfriend, Hoseok, speaks as he starts his car. He leans over the car’s console to give you a kiss on the cheek.

Today was Hoseok's birthday and you decided to take him out on a date while the both of you had time. He isn’t a complicated person so you took him to his favorite restaurant and ate, maybe had a few drinks. Nothing too crazy.

“Of course, it wasn’t much, but I still wanted to do something for you. You always go all out for me.”

It’s true. He spoils the hell out of you, and you only want to do the same for him.

“Trust me, spending time with you is good enough for me,” he smiles, reaching for your hand to hold it. No matter how long you’ve been with him, he never fails to make you flustered.

It’s ten minutes into the car ride when you notice him taking a few unusual turns. The plan was to eat and go back to his place. You can’t help but wonder where the hell he was taking you.

He takes one final turn onto an empty one way road, the sides of it an endless field of trees.

He brought you to the woods?

You swallow, confused with a pit of nervousness forming in your stomach. What the hell is he doing right now?

“Hobi, I thought we were go-”

“You have five minutes to run and hide before I find you. Understood?” your boyfriend cuts you off, making you shiver at his words.

Not wanting to pry on his demand, you open the door, not without one last glance at Hoseok.

You already know where this is going, and it's quite simple. Your boyfriend is experimental when it comes to your sex life. You can’t help but get a twinge of excitement.

Slamming the door shut, you waste no time in sprinting into the woods. It's dark and freezing, only the moon lighting up the forest.

Your heart beats out of your chest, running through the muddy grass and branches, no doubt your shoes are surely ruined. You take different turns and paths past trees and bushes, hoping to make finding you more difficult. The adrenaline keeps you going.

You stop, catching your breath while trying to keep an eye out for him. It's surely been well over five minutes, maybe you ran too far?

As if it was on cue, the sound of footsteps crushing leaves in the distance behind you brings you back to reality. Your heart instantly drops.

And before you know it, you’re running again, the fear fueling your stamina.

You attempt to be as quiet as possible, but the branches you’re stepping over are a dead giveaway at where you’re running towards.

It feels like it's been an hour of trying to find a perfect hiding spot, when you see a huge oak tree, branches big enough to cover you. Finally.

You can’t register what's happening when a hand covers your mouth and the other around your waist, trapping your arms from behind, your eyes widening when you take in the familiar hand.

How the fuck did he find you so fast?

“You’re a good hider, but not that good, baby,” he grits into your ear along with a snarky laugh. His hold on you is borderline painful.

“Hmm, let’s see what we’ve got hiding under here.” He doesn’t give you a chance to move, instead gripping your hair with the utmost force to push you up against the tree, the bark digging into your skin.

He wastes no time in lifting up your white floral dress, smacking your ass along the way to rip off your underwear.

“Well, would you look at that,” he chuckles at the sight. “You’re fucking dripping, baby,” he whispers as he runs his long fingers between your soaked folds. Your hole clenches at the slight stimulation, whining for more.

“Looks like you enjoyed the chase, huh? Of course a whore like you would.”

You’re embarrassed that he’s right.

He presses his middle finger in your hole, unable to contain your moans when the grip on your hair gets tighter.

He laughs at your attempt to grind on his hand, inserting his ring finger inside you to give you what you want.

“Wish it was my cock instead hm, baby? Grinding on my hand like a bitch in heat for fucks sake.”

Getting no answer, he immediately pulls his fingers out your hole and all you can muster out is a whine in protest.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he spits out into your ear, “you asked for this,” as he takes it upon himself to rip your dress off, completely ruining the dainty material. You’re left bare in the freezing woods– quite opposite to his dressed figure. You cry out when he leans in to bite your neck, marking you with a fresh, red hickey.

“Hobi please not her-”

“Don’t cry like a bitch now and take what I give you,” grabbing your jaw, forcibly opening your mouth when a glob of saliva escapes his lips to land on your pink tongue.

“Uh uh, swallow” he commands when he sees you trying to reject his spit, shutting your mouth together, leaving you no choice but to swallow it.

He doesn’t stop at that, a chill of fear and excitement as you hear his belt buckle jingle and his fly being unzipped.

Looking over your shoulder, you get a slight of him spitting into his hand, using it as lube on his hard cock.

He pushes your face back against the tree, grabbing both of your arms to put behind your back, restricting your movements as much as possible.

After what feels like years of torture, you feel his tip poke and prod against your hole. Within seconds, he slams inside of your poor swollen cunt, a gasp escaping your lips.

The once quiet forest is now filled with sounds of skin slapping and quiet grunts from the both of you. Your eyes roll back at his harsh thrusts, his cock constantly prodding at your sweet spot. You won’t last long.

“Mh- fucking gripping me, relax. Gonna fill up this cunt.”

Your walls clench even harder around him, the thought of him cumming inside you while being this vulnerable bringing you closer to your climax.

He delivers another smack to your ass, addicted to the way it moves under his force.

A few more pounds into your cunt and you’re cumming, a ring of cum gathered at the base of his cock. It leaves you shaking.

“Fucking made a mess of my cock, hm?” your boyfriend remarks. Despite the cold weather, you’re sweating. You try to get him to slow down his bruising thrust by pushing him away, while this only makes him smack your hands away and grip your hips harder.

His moans increasingly become louder than before, signaling he’s close.

You begin to wince painfully from the overstimulation, not that he cares though.

“Shit” he breathes out, a warm sensation fills your cunt. His cum coating every bit of your walls, not stopping until he unloads every last drop inside of you.

He swiftly pulls out, letting you go as you stand there, body spent and legs shaking from the intense sex.

He takes off his jacket to cover your body, and lands a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re a present in itself.”

#hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok fic #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts fic #bts #bts smut #bts hoseok #bts hobi #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #hobi x you

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bloodweep · 4 months

Text

Warning these are NSFW

I’m also a trans man that is a-okay with pussy/cunt - I mainly write character x male reader but headcanons they are for everyone

“Ma don’t do this to me”

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ After some time together ࿐ྂ

‗ ❍ He gets excited over you very easily, he normally did; but now it’s worse, your scent invades his senses all the time; torturing him slowly

‗ ❍ The hugs getting longer, tighter and clingier

‗ ❍ Chests pressed together, his nose behind your ears nuzzling, if you hear a low guttural sound leave him ignore it; it will make it worse

‗ ❍ his hands began to wander, no longer staying around your midsection, moving to your hips, so dangerously close to your ass

‗ ❍ eventually he would have you caged to a tree, his forearm pressing into the bark, ignoring the scratching form on his skin, his muscles bunching and flexing by your head - this would happen more often now, this position, caging you in, loaning over you, yet he didn’t force anything

‗ ❍ GODS I know he would have the biggest muscles of his brother, so fucking big and bulky

‗ ❍ in this position he would show his fangs more, his tail flicking lazily behind him

‗ ❍ UGH he would definitely lean over you, his head tilting down into your space to speak, whispering to you so your conversation can be private

‗ ❍ this position is what caused the first kiss, he was so close, you both were sharing each others breaths, he exhaled you inhaled; back and forth

‗ ❍ finally his eyes lidded he looked over you; waiting, he may be demanding, cocky, grabby but he wouldn’t force this

‗ ❍ once he’s gotten the okay he press his lips to yours, a low growl from his throat

‗ ❍ his free hand would grip your hip, yanking you flush against his hips grinding against you with each kiss

‗ ❍ you definitely gotten fucked against the tree more than once

‗ ❍ oh BOY is he a munch, can eat pussy for hours if you let him, face buried into your cunt, lapping and sucking, his fangs scrapping against your cunt

‗ ❍ he’s most certainly snarled and nipped at your direction when you pull him away before shoving his face back into your cunt

‗ ❍ would eat your pussy for breakfast , lunch and dinner and even dessert

‗ ❍ has definitely been yelled out for leaving a gang scratches on your cunt

‗ ❍ a giver more than a receiver

‗ ❍ loves doggy

‗ ❍ “oh mamas” is definitely what he growls out as he fucks into you

‗ ❍ will enjoy having your pussy juices coat his face and neck as he fucks you, will get grumpy and nippy if you try to clean it off, he wants to smell like you and feel claimed

‗ ❍ I can see this man LOVING anal, the first time he’s giving the okay he nearly combusts, he loves your ass so much and being able to fuck it sends him into space

‗ ❍ would love to eat your cunt while stretching your ass open

‗ ❍ enjoys to overstimulate you until you’re crying, he just wants to feel your legs around his head crushing

‗ ❍ reverse cowgirl position too so he can keep his hands all over your ass

‗ ❍ into biting, he wouldn’t know how to ask to mark you up, but once you’ve pulled his head into your neck, he would certainly leave little marks there - marks your thighs too

‗ ❍ loves scratches, he wants your mark on him all the time

‗ ❍ he’s SO into muzzles, muzzle him up and yank on it to control him

‗ ❍ he would definitely hold you up into the air and fuck into you, showing off how strong he is, how good of a mate he is to you

‗ ❍ wants you to squirt on his face and chest all the time, enjoys your scent and wants everyone to know that

‗ ❍ he’s broken many of his and your beds from fucking you so hard, but it never stopped him from making sure you finished before making you a new one - at this point you suggest to fuck on the floor but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable on the bed

‗ ❍ He’s the one to be fucking into you, reaching up and gripping the headboard - which the area would break off in his hand from how tight he is holding it

‗ ❍ he’s a fucking dirty clothes sniffer (you cannot tell me he would bury his nose into your underwear and inhale, that man is a fucking dog)

‗ ❍ Throatfucking, drives him crazy when he can fuck into your throat, his hand gripping around the bulge in your throat

‗ ❍ size difference, sends him wild when he can see his dick through your stomach

‗ ❍ Somnophilia - receiving, loves waking up to you riding him, or your sitting down on his face

‗ ❍ breath play - receiving, suffocate him with your thighs, cunt, gripping his neck when you ride him

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Tagging: @n3rdy247

I apologize they are so short, might add to them but this is all I could think of right now!

Added a gif I made because fuck him and his goggles does stuff to me

#john dory #john dory x reader #trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #brozone #headcanons

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totesnothere04 · 10 months

Text

From Heartbreak to Harmony

Neytiri x F!Omatikaya!Reader x Jake

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fanart, screenshots, or gifs used with my stories.

Warnings: Hurt to comfort, tsaheylu, major character death, yall... (Y/n) gots alot of friggin kids. Also 4 releases in one weekend?? Holy crap.

"Okay let's go through them again." Grace said as she started showing Jake pictures of important members of the clan.

"Mo'at the dragon lady." Jake says and Grace changes the image. "Eytucan." Jake says and Grace rolls her eyes.

"Eytukan. He's the clan leader, and she's the spiritual leader. Like a shaman." Grace tells him and shows him the next.

"Su'tey." Jake says.

"Tsu'tey." Grace corrects him.

"Tsu'tey." Jake corrects himself.

"He's the high warrior." Grace tells him and shows the next picture.

"Neytiri and (Y/n)." Jake says as he takes the tablet and looks at the picture closer.

"Of course those are the two you get right." Norm says exasperated.

"Hey focus." Grace warns Jake when she sees he's about to argue with Norm. "Neytiri is the next clan leader and (Y/n) is the next Tsahík. They become a mated pair." Grace says and Jake seems confused.

"But how will they produce the next of their line?" Jake asks and Norm decides to flaunt his knowledge.

"It's not unheard of for the leaders of the clan to have a third mate." Norm tells Jake and leans against the hand rails. "Which you would know if you had any knowledge of their customs."

"Well who has a date with both of the future clan leaders?" Jake says cheekily and Norm throws his hands up.

"C'mon man that doesn't count-" Norm says and Grace shushes them both.

"Link now. Village life starts early." She says and leans over Jake after he lays down. "Don't do anything overly stupid." Jake doesn't respond as he shuts the lid over himself. When he opens his eyes he finds a pair of eyes staring back at him.

"Come JakeSulì. I will redress your wound." You tell him and he's quick to get out of his hammock. He follows behind you getting a better look at his surroundings now that it's daytime. When you get to the healer's area you gesture for him to sit and he does as asked. You sit across from him and take his old dressings off. He watches you as you apply a salve to his wound and can't help but admire your features. Your bioluminescent freckles aren't visible in the daylight but their pattern is still captivating.

"So, you're promised to Neytiri huh?" Jake asks trying to make conversation. You look up at him and nod.

"We have been courting since we were 14 cycles. I was chosen as tsakarem at 16 cycles, and she was chosen to be the next Olo'eyktan." You tell him and he nods. You back away from him after you're finished and wash your hands off in a bowl of water and dry them off. "Come. We will eat first meal and Neytiri will take you to start your training." He gets up and follows behind you again. You squat down and so does Jake, then not long after Neytiri joins the two of you. It's quiet as the three of you eat.

After you were all finished eating Neytiri planted a kiss on the top of your head and dragged Jake behind her. You smiled softly as you watched her drag the odd uniltìranyu with her.

Later in the day Neytiri and Jake showed up and Mo'at excused you. You followed Neytiri as she led the small group into the forest. When you walked into the treeline you took a deep breath and ran your hands over a few tree trunks. Eywa's voice danced around you and your companions as she led the three of you on an unknown path. Neytiri finally stopped and sat down on a thick tree branch and you sat down next to her. You allowed your fingers to glide over the moss covering the tree bark and you smiled.

"I had (Y/n) join us to help with teaching you our language and to teach you about Eywa." Neytiri tells Jake who nods.

It had been a few months since Jake had started his training and you started to contemplate something. You were going to propose the idea of Jake being your and Neytiri's third mate. He is strong and once he started learning you found him intelligent and a quick learner. Though his reluctance to believe in the Great Mother was a questionable quality to you. Neytiri believed him ready to tame an ikran, but you voiced that you didn't think that to her. Your concern is he didn't want to learn about Eywa. She told Tsu'tey he was ready anyways and had him take him along with the other ready warriors and hunters.

When they returned and Jake had tamed an ikran you started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something was about to happen but you had no idea what it could possibly be. There were so many things going on in your world right now that it could be anything from an attack by the sky demons, to someone close to you dying again. Mo'at spent the better part of the evening helping to ease your growing concern. But the Great Mother had never lied to you before, so you would not start questioning her now. That night you prepared yourself spiritually for whatever it might be.

The next morning you woke up early and went to prepare healing supplies for the day with Mo'at. After first meal you sat working quietly when your curiosity got the best of you.

"Have you seen Neytiri this morning? I would like to suggest our third mate to her before we present him to you." You say and Mo'at clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

"I have not seen Neytiri today. She was not in her hammock either. I thought she might have slept in here after last night festivities, but she was not here either." Mo'at says and you got the same gut feeling that you had the night prior.

"What if what I am sensing has to do with Neytiri?" You ask Mo'at and her head shoots up to look in your eye.

"It is a possibility. We all return to the Great Mother when the time is right." Mo'at says and you nod.

"I am aware, but my fear exists in having to be given a new mate. I have fallen in love with Neytiri." You tell her and she places a hand on your arm.

"Tsu'tey is in love with Sylwanin. It is why he refused to be chosen to be the third mate. However, if it must happen he knows he is the first choice to take Neytiri's place." Mo'at says. "For both Olo'eyktan and as your mate. He holds the right to refuse our choice, as you do." It seems like she is going to continue speaking when you hear Tsu'tey shouting in the main area. You and Mo'at look at eachother then go to investigate. His hunting party returned early from their outing and you frown.

"Tsu'tey, what is the meaning of this?" You ask him and he looks over at you.

"The demons have destroyed the Tree of Voices. They flattened them to the ground and left nothing of them behind." Tsu'tey says and your hands fly to your mouth. A startled cry erupts from your throat.

"Neytiri might have been showing them to Jake now that he is one of The People." You told Mo'at quietly and you see a short moment of fear cross her features.

"We must stay here. Soon it will be your time to take my place in deciding to take action to war. You must learn to make this decision, ma'ite." Mo'at says and you bow your head in understanding. The proceedings were intense but there was no opposition to going to war with the demons. Tsu'tey was celebrating the preparation of war when Jake and Neytiri emerged from the crowd. You felt relief flood your body when you saw Neytiri was okay, so you made your way to her. But her scent was off. She did not smell just of herself but Jake as well and you took a step away from her. Tsu'tey shoved Jake to the ground and Neytiri pushed him away, and you knew.

"You mated with this woman?" Tsu'tey asked as he cast his eyes to you, who stood nearby.

"Is this true?" Mo'at asked angrily as she came forward. Neytiri looked like a child who had just gotten caught doing something they weren't supposed to do.

"We are mated before Eywa. It is done." Neytiri says in finality and you wrap your arms around yourself. Mo'at pulls you into her arms when she senses your sadness well up within you.

"Ma'tiyawn, we wanted you to come with us but we could not find you." Neytiri says as she tries to come to you but you put your hand up to silence her.

"You have made me the third." You tell her and her ears pinned back. "If you had both waited until this morning I was going to speak with you privately about taking him as our third. However, you have now disrespected my placement on our mating by doing this." You tell her and Neytiri looks close to tears and Jake is looking at you with eyes full of hope.

"Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite, because of this you can never be Olo'eyktan. Your actions have shown impatience and impulsive behavior, which cannot be tolerated from a leader." Mo'at says. "(Y/n) will remain tsakarem and Tsu'tey will become her Olo'eyktan and mate should he accept." Mo'at speaks in an authoritative tone and she looks at Tsu'tey.

"I accept." Tsu'tey says as he makes eye contact with you. Jake speaks up after all of this is declared.

"Tsu'tey, brother. Do not attack the sky people. Many Omatikaya will die if you do." Jake says and Tsu'tey pulls out his knife.

"You are NOT my brother!" Tsu'tey attacks Jake only for Jake to throw him off balance.

"And I am not your enemy! The real enemy is out there and they are very powerful!" Jake says. "I can talk to them."

"No more talk!" Tsu'tey yells as he charges forward to try to attack Jake again but he sidesteps his attack and only sustains a cut. Tsu'tey tries to stab Jake again only for Jake to stop his arm, punch him across the jaw, knees him in the chest, then punches him directly in his nose. You gawk at the fighting style as it is foreign to you and you immediately recognize that this man is far more trained than most of your clan.

"I am Omatikaya. I am one of you. And I have the right to speak." Jake says. "I have something to say... to all of you." Jake pauses and grimaces. "The words are like stones in my heart." He finishes in the demon language.

Grace drops to the ground and you run to her side and start looking over her for any wounds.

"Grace!" Neytiri yells and drops to her knees on her other side.

"Oh no. Look I was sent here to-" Jake says in a rushed manner then promptly falls to his knees. Tsu'tey takes this as an opportunity and lifts Jake's head up with his knife to Jake's throat.

"You see? It is a demon in a false body." Tsu'tey says and Neytiri pounces on his back and throws him away from Jake's still body. He directs his knife toward her and she stands over Jake protectively with hers drawn as well. You exhale and walk back to the healer's area to continue preparations. Some time later Jake and Grace are awake again and Mo'at gathers you to stand beside her.

"Ma'Eytukan! I have something to say." Jake says hurriedly and Grace joins his side.

"Listen to him." She says.

"Speak JakeSulí." Eytukan says and Jake takes a deep breath.

"A great evil is upon us. The sky people are coming to destroy Hometree!" Jake says and Mo'at becomes concerned. "Tell 'em they're gonna be here soon." He says to Neytiri and she translates for Eytukan.

"Are you certain of this?" Mo'at asks.

"Look, they sent me here to learn your ways. So that one day I could deliver this message and you'd believe it." Jake says and you glare at him.

"What are you saying Jake? That you knew this would happen?" Neytiri asks him and he hesitates.

"Yes. Look, at first it was just orders. But then I fell in love. With the forest and with the Omatikaya people. And with you and (Y/n)." Jake says and Neytiri looks like she's holding back tears.

"I trusted you." Neytiri says as she starts to back away from him.

"With you and (Y/n)!" Jake continues to try and calm her but she's angry. She continues to yell at him until she finally walks away from him. Eytukan looks at both yours and Neytiri's sad expressions and turns to the warriors.

"Bind them!" Eytukan says and everything became a blur after that. Grace and Jake were dragged out of Hometree and you stayed with Mo'at inside. After an hour or so you heard the sound of the sky demons machines outside. A few moments later a metal canister flew through the entrance of Hometree. It released smoke that caused your eyes to water so to protect the children and mothers you started telling them to run for the trees. Then they started shooting at Hometree. The explosions throw you off of your feet and you try to push through and get out of Hometree. You're stopped a little ways away from Hometree by Eytukan.

"You must go! Run for the forest!" Eytukan says but he quickly throws you behind him and a massive explosion throws you both off of your feet. When you make contact with the ground your head hits it hard and everything goes dark.

You wake up to the sound of fire and someone shouting for the father. You take notice of Eytukan a short way away and run to his side as best as you can.

"Ma'Eytukan... I'm so sorry. I should have gotten up sooner." You cry as you look over the piece of wood that's straight through his chest.

"Ma'ite. Lead the people wisely." Eytukan says as he takes off his headpiece and hands it to you and you cry harder.

"Ma'sempul!" You finally recognize the voice as Neytiri's as she finds you both. She cries out as she joins you by his side.

"Ma'ite, protect the people." Eytukan says as he hands Neytiri his bow. When she has a good hold on it his arm goes slack. Neytiri falls into hysterical crying and you wrap an arm around her shoulder as you sob quietly next to her.

"Neytiri! (Y/n)!" You hear Jake searching for both you and his mate, but you can't bring yourself to look up at him. He stumbles into the small clearing you're in and he drops to his knees on Eytukans other side. He looks over the beloved Olo'eyktans dead body and he reaches over to set one hand on Neytiri's neck and takes one of your hands in his.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Jake says trying to console both of you.

"Get away." Neytiri says through sobs but her sadness quickly turns to anger. "Get away! Get away from here, never come back." She takes Jake's place and cradles her father's body in her arms as she continues to cry. Jake looks on like he's lost and turns then leaves. You put on the headpiece that Eytukan gave you and quietly follow Jake. He collapses and you check him over to make sure he wasn't wounded but find he's alright. You leave your leather pouch full of fresh water on his chest and run off to follow the rest of the clan to the Tree of Souls.

The next couple of days are filled with sadness as the clan mourns the loss of the Olo'eyktan and Hometree. However, the days following Toruk Maktos return are chaotic. War breaks out as 15 clans come together to rid the world of the demons. In the war, you lost your second promised mate and you feel lost.

After a new Hometree is found a new Olo'eyktan is chosen, and it's Toruk Makto himself. Mo'at refused to allow her daughter the title because of her past actions. During the time of rebuilding Jake and Neytiri approached you.

"I meant what I said before the destruction of the original Hometree. I want to be mated with both of you because I am in love with you. The passion and love your eyes held when you taught me about Eywa and helped teach me the language. It made you even more beautiful than you already are. Please join us in our mating?" Jake says and he offers you his tswin and Neytiri offers hers as well. Your breathing becomes shallow as you look from the eyes to their tswin's presented to you. You feel tears start to fall from your eyes and Jake uses his free hand to wipe them away. You take a deep breath and present your tswin to them. The three groups of nerve endings dance until they all bond together. You wrap one arm around Jake's waist and the other around Neytiri's shoulders. The intimacy quickly changes from gentle and comforting, to aroused and complete.

Months later you welcome your first son into the world as Neteyam te Sulí Tsyeyek'itan, right after little Kiri te Sulí Kìreysì'ite born from Grace's avatar, then Neytiri brought Lo'ak te Sulí Tsyeyek'itan. Many cycles later both you and Neytiri brought one more child each. She gave birth to Tukitery te Sulí Neytiri'ite, and you were blessed with another boy, on the same day as Neytiri welcomed Tuk, you welcomed Tomis te Sulí Tsyeyek'itan. Blessed was the only word you would use to describe your life now as you watched your mate teach and play with your children.

Permanent Taglist(message me if you want taken off of it): @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @kenzi-woycehoski.

#avatar #jake sully x reader x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri #neytiri x reader #jake sully #avatar 2009

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 6 months

Text

A Night of Firsts

In which you, dear reader, are the object of a certain druid's desires and agree to meet him for a night of passion...it also happens to be your first time. NSFW

You’re so nervous as you walk through the woods.

What if he hates what he sees? What if I’m awful? What if—

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sight of the man who had asked you to meet him---the tall druid with the kind heart. Leaning against a tree, you noticed the very large muscles in his arms seemed tense. Is he nervous? Surely not? He’s older than you’ll ever be, and surely…

“Forgive me.” He offered a rueful smile as he turned to face you. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show.”

You were taken aback by his words. Didn’t think I’d show up? For him? “I-I wouldn’t dream of it.” You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying desperately not to appear just as nervous as he is. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Halsin.”

He holds up his hand and smiles ruefully. “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply you’re late. Tis a beautiful night.” Chuckling, he looks apologetic. “Forgive me once more, my dear. It’s been some time since I’ve been with a lover.”

Before you have time to think, to consider what words you would say next, they tumble out of you. “Well, I’ve never even had one!”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

OH GODS!

Why did I say that?!

Halsin, thankfully unaware that you wish the earth so he loves would swallow you whole, stares at you with his mouth agape. “You…truly? It’s not that it’s a bad thing, mind you. I’m simply surprised. Surely there are those in the city who have…” He chuckles again, and you cannot help but notice how seemingly boyish he looks in that moment. “No. Maybe it’s your choice, and it’s—”

“Not by choice.” You say quietly, looking down at the ground. You remember all the times your affections were rejected---both gently and not---and your heart breaks a little. Sometimes it was as pleasant as it could be. Sometimes it was awful. Other times, though, you were told that no one would ever love a woman of your size. “No one chooses to fuck a fatty” was what the last one said to me. You did not realize you were crying until a rough, calloused thumb touched your cheek.

“My heart, let me dry your tears.” He gently wiped away the tears with one hand, while the other rested on your waist. “You are loved…and desired. Very much so.” As your eyes met his, you felt reassured by his warm smile. “I will be gentle of course. I want this to be—”

You cannot help yourself. “Just as nature intended?” You grin, your nose wrinkling just a little.

He barks a laugh. “I was going to say, ‘wonderful for you’ but sure, my heart, that works too.” His other hand fell to the other side of your waist, and he squeezed gently. “So beautiful. I am honored to be your first, dear one.” His large hands traveled up and down your sides, only the thin fabric of your nightshirt between his touch and your skin. “You’re so soft and inviting…” He stepped back and within a moment his clothes were off.

Oh.

OH.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

You could not help but wet your lips upon seeing him.

He is so big. Everything about him is big. His heart. His kindness. His gentleness.

HIS HUGE COCK.

“Cat got your tongue, my heart?” Halsin teased, stepping back towards you, his massive hands on your shoulders.

“More like a bear, love.” You hesitate for a moment, trying to gather the courage to remove your own clothes. What if he—

He placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Take your time. We’ve no rush.”

Oh, you sweet, wonderful bear elf man. You hesitate for a second before speaking. “I-it’s not that. I’m just being silly…”

Enveloping you in his arms, he shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not silly or else you wouldn’t be so bothered, my heart. What troubles you?”

What’s been troubling me since I was a little girl. What troubles me every time I express interest in someone and get rejected. What troubles me when I feel the stares every time I eat. You close your eyes, screwing them shut. “I want this…want you more than anything…I-I’m sorry about how I look.”

“Why be sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for?” He buried his head in your hair, breathing in your scent. “You are the loveliest of nature’s creations.” His large hands roamed over your thin nightshirt. “And you feel…” Halsin moaned. “Incredible.”

With how close the two of you were, you could feel his enormous muscles and how hard he was. If he truly believes that I’m beautiful, then I should trust him. Believe him. Let him love me because gods do I want him. “So do you, Halsin.” You whisper, tentatively running your hands up his chest. Karlach said to be bold and brave in love, so I shall! Getting on the tips of your toes, you lean up to kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck.

As his lips meet yours, he grunts and lifts you off the ground slightly in a massive bear-like hug. OH MY GODS!!?!?! Though it ends as quickly as it began, you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest not out of nerves but because you never thought that would ever happen. “Gods,” you breathe, your generous bosom rising and falling rapidly. “I—”

He smirked a little, still holding you. “I take it you liked that then?”

If anyone doesn’t like that, then they should have their head examined. You chuckle, step back, and begin to pull off your nightshirt. Halsin licks his lips in anticipation, watching your every move. While you still feel self-conscious, Halsin’s presence does calm you slightly. The cool night air sends a shiver up your spine, your nipples hardening due not only to the temperature but also your arousal.

Just as you are about to pull down your trousers, Halsin shakes his head. “Please, my heart. Allow me.” His voice is soft as he pushes your hands off the waistband. He hooks his very large fingers inside and ever so slowly pulls them and your smalls down. “Oak Father preserve me, such beauty!” You gasp as he gets on his knees, pulling your trousers and smalls past your big fat butt. He stops for a moment, his extremely large hands cupping your behind. “Nature made you so supple, so soft, my heart.” Spending a few moments rubbing your ass, he places several kisses along your lower belly.

Gods, I’m burning up. He hasn’t done anything yet, and I’m already a quivering mess. You glance down at him and notice his hazel eyes glowing gold. “Love?”

He continues his ministrations, small growls escaping him. “The bear grows more wild every second. All because of you.” Halsin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “But I will not go into wildshape tonight. Not for your first time. There will be other nights…other nights when,” he groaned, burying his face in the curls at the apex of your thighs. “I can put a ‘cub’ or two in you.”

You blink. You did not think it was possible for you to be even more turned on, but somehow the druid managed it. You manage to get a squeak out as you unconsciously rub your thick thighs together.

Halsin chuckles. “Does that excite you, my heart? Your scent tells me yes. Your movements tell me yes.” His hands gripped her thighs as he pressed kisses to them. “But do you say?”

Taking yet another page from Karlach, you lean down and tilt his face up, “Fuck yeah.” DEFINITELY INTERESTED IN THAT. “Should I, erm…my pants…?”

He nods quickly. ��Forgive me, of course. Let me,” he pulls your trousers all the way down, admiring you. You step out of them (finally) and are completely bare to him. And he likes this. Likes me. I can’t even believe it, but it’s true. You cannot help but blush, your arms crossing your ample chest. “You truly are nature’s most beautiful creation, my heart.” He clears his throat, still looking at you at a goddess. “Let’s lie down.”

When he’s in wildshape, then I’ll get my ass cacked in dirt and mud. Tonight however, it’s a bed. You smirk as you snap your fingers, and within moments, a king-size bed, surrounded by candles and lanterns, appears in the forest. I’m a sorceress. This is child’s play.

Halsin begins to laugh and then pulls you into a hug. “Don’t fancy a romp on nature’s floor tonight, my love? Though I must say, this is quite romantic.” Kissing your head, he sighs happily. “Here’s hoping I can live up to it by giving you everything you deserve and more.”

You kiss his chest before sitting at the edge of the bed, slowly pushing yourself backwards up to a pile of fluffy pillows. “No matter what it will be, love.”

“That you have such confidence in me is reassuring.” He teases, grabbing his rock-hard cock and squeezing the tip slightly. “But before we begin, you need to know that all this,” he moaned as he ran his hand up and down his swollen length. “is because of you. You’re beautiful inside and out. So, so beautiful…” He murmurs and begins to crawl up to you. “When I look at you, I see a goddess of abundance---in kindness, heart, courage,” he pushes your thick thighs apart and stares hungrily at your throbbing cunt. He grips your thick, soft thighs, kneading them. “Softness…such sweet softness, my heart.” He looks at you expectantly.

You can only nod in return. You are seemingly unable to find your voice as he grins and then starts to utterly devour you. Without thinking, you begin to tug his hair. “Oh gods, I’m so—” You say quickly and loosening your grip.

“Pull if you wish, my heart. I don’t mind.” He chuckles, his hazel eyes full of mirth. He then returns to licking and sucking you, moaning loudly all the while. As for you, you cannot stop tugging on his long hair, the feel of his braids on your fingers somehow sexier than seeing them. Gods, Halsin… His hands squeeze your hips to prevent you from moving too much, and you not so secretly want him to hold your hips more often. It’s hot. Him touching me likes this makes me feel so sexy. So desirable. Never felt like this before.

“Hal-Halsin, fucking hells…” You manage to get out as one of your hands starts to knead one of your breasts. Want more. Want him all over me. In me. Any way I can have him.

He lifts his head slightly, the amused look still in his eyes. “That’s it. Good girl. Keep touching yourself. There’s a good girl.” As he dives back into your cunt, one of the hands on your hip travels to your lower belly.

The coil inside you seems to get tighter and tighter as his tongue laps at you, as he touches you, and as you touch yourself. And all too soon for you, the coil snaps and you thrust upwards into Halsin. You feel as if you black out for a moment or two, and when you come to, Halsin has the remnants of some of your spend on his lips.

“You taste sweeter than honey, dear one. I cannot wait to find out how you feel around me.” He leans over you, and you suddenly feel so small and I’m not small! Though no matter how imposing his size is, his expression is gentle. “I’m going to use a finger or two first, my heart. As you can see, I’m quite…large. I don’t want you to be in any pain. However,” he offered a toothy grin. “I think you’re wet enough for me.”

As one of his fingers enters you, you determine quite quickly that you are not prepared for even how large the finger is. You squirm and gasp, feeling so deliciously full from just one of his fingers. “Love, please…need more…”

“You’re sure you’re in any pain, my heart?” He asks, his nose nuzzling yours.

“No, just want more of you. Please.”

His lips gently kiss yours, a second finger now entering you. You moan wantonly as his inhumanly large and very sexy fingers stretch you. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”

FUCK YES! “Gods yes, please.” You beg, panting as he removes his fingers.

Within seconds, you can feel the blunt tip of his engorged member at your entrance. “I will go slow, my heart, and be gentle.” He seems like he’s more telling himself that than me. Oh Halsin, I trust you. Slowly, he moves inch by inch.

I believe Astarion would call this “exquisite torture.” It feels like he’s tearing me apart while I want more. More. More of him. Gods, please. You babble incoherently, ranging from praise to sweet nothings.

Loud grunts and honeyed words fall from Halsin’s lips as he finally is fully hilted inside you. You both moan at the same time, and you nod at him to continue.

He thrusts gently the first few times, but then he picks up the pace. His pelvis collides with yours, faster and faster.

“My love, come again for me. I know you can do it. I know you can.” He pants, his hazel eyes gazing into yours. “Be a good girl and come for me. Just one more time. You can do it.”

That is all you need as you scream your second release, and your vision turns white. You are vaguely aware of Halsin burying his head into your shoulder, his nails digging into your wide, soft hips. He comes yelling your name. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, his seed spilling in you. When he is finished, Halsin wraps his arms around you and rolls you both on your sides. One arm is snugly around your thick waist, while the other is caressing your cheek.

“Well, that was,” you smile softly. “amazing. Will it be like that every time, love?”

He chuckles. “If that is your desire, then yes. We still have so much to explore together, my heart. In fact,” his eyes turn golden as he grins. “should you desire it, more of myself would like to—”

Halsin does not finish the sentence.

You are already kissing him passionately.

It’s bear time.

And yes, I do desire it.

#plus size reader #halsin bg3 #halsin #halsin x reader #body image issues #this fic literally took on a life of its own and i'm not sorry #plus size unnamed tav #halsin wants you just as nature intended #plus size reader bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction

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