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a-b-riddle · 1 year ago

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Part 8

You had planned to spend Sunday morning nursing a hangover with Mere and Tabitha, but after last night’s events you had decided to catch up on organizing the shop while putting your phone on do not disturb.

You had turned your location services off in hopes that for a few hours the world would just leave you the fuck alone.

A few hours was all you were given before a tapping came on the front door of your shop around noon. Peering through the glass window, you spotted him.

He was holding a huge brown paper bag looking at little worse for wear since the last time he showed up. You debated on ignoring him. He had missed the early morning shower otherwise you really would have left him outside.

Bastard.

"John-" When you opened the door, he entered immediately. No doubt guessing you planned to slam the door immediately after telling him to fuck off.

He would have been right.

"Please," you say flatly before closing the door. "Do come in." After last night, after this week, the last thing you wanted to do was see anybody. Him, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, fucking Meredith or Tabitha. Why was it so hard for a person who had very few people in her life, all of which were on the skirts with her, to leave her alone for a single day?

"Well?" You asked when he said nothing. He cleared his throat, as if preparing himself for a long, drawn out speech.

Instead he handed you the bag, the smell hitting you. Warm and welcoming. Price was the only one out of the four who could cook a damn good meal, which made him extra picky when it came to eating out. “Wanted to check in.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do with them now. “Simon said you had a rough night.”

You scoffed at the understatement. "Yeah," you hated this. You didn't want to tell John about your shitty night with your even shittier friends. "It wasn't the best night out."

"So you know that bloke who got handsy or was he just some random prick?" Your mouth fell open in shock. You didn't expect Simon to be such a fucking gossip. And how fuckin' dare John for thinking he had any right to know who was grabbing your ass and your involvement to that person.

No. Fuck that.

"We're not doing this," you said putting the bag on an empty display table. Fuck. You need to go ahead and unbox that shipment in the back.

"What?" He asked, oblivious as to what he said that was wrong. You push heel of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the headache that was threatening to form. "Some prick took a feel of ya' and I want to see if-"

"If what?" You cut in. "If I need some comfort at being utterly fucking humiliated at Simon going all caveman in front of everyone and dragging me outside like a child? Or do you want to finish want Simon start with almost killing him!"

"From what I heard, he didn't kill him," John's audacity to correct you as if Simon's restraint was remarkable baffled you. "There's something to be said about that."

"He held him by the neck in the air like a ragdoll. He choked him out in the middle of the pub."

"But," he held up a finger. "he didn't break his neck. He knew you'd be upset."

"You're not seriously defending him right now." You could feel your blood pressure rising. Your lid ready to blow like a fucking kettle.

"From what Simon said it didn't look like the attraction was mutual." That gave you pause. Simon told John it didn't look... mutual. Could Simon tell you were uncomfortable? Did he hear everything Percy said?

Where the fuck did Simon come from anyway?

why the fuck was he at the pub in the first place???

Your mouth hung open for several beats. Any longer and a bug could fly in. But fuck if it didn't feel like cold water had been dumped on you. Why and how did Simon think it wasn't mutual? Why did he care??? Why was he acting like he didn't?

"He-" You began, trying to think of what to ask only to simply screech out "What?" John held his hands up in surrender. Your kettle whistled. You were pissed. More pissed than John had ever seen you and it was still a miracle you hadn't hurled the take out at his head.

"All I'm saying is if he grabbed you without an invitation and Simon saw, the prick is lucky to be alive, much less still walking around with hands."

"Si-" you started. "He-" You clinched your fists so tightly your nails painfully cut into the palm of your hand. "UGH!" You stomped your foot. It was childish, but you didn't care. "I don't need him rescuing me goddamit! I don't need any of you pissing on my legs like a fucking dog and-" you didn't stop. You weren't sure how long you carried on verbally lashing John nor did you give a single flying fuck.

Fuck him. Fuck Simon. Fuck all of them. They didn't get to stalk you and relay information like gossiping fucking school girls. They didn't get to break your heart and believe that you would let them piece it back together. They didn't get to neglect you only to realize you knew your worth. Only giving a shit until you walked away.

You went on and on until your throat ached. You weren't sure what thoughts had left your lips. You weren't entirely sure all what you said. All you knew is that you didn't feel any better. The look on Price's fallen face didn't give you any relief. You took it out on him and you were still hurting.

"Why?" Your voice was hoarse and pleading. "Why won't you guys just fucking leave? You were barely staying in it when we were together? Why now?"

He took a tentative step forwarding. His hands started to reach out to touch your arms before falling back down at his side. He knew he had lost the right to touch you. To comfort you.

"I miss you, Dove." He confessed it as if it would somehow make it all better. "We miss you." You try not to let it phase you, but fuck you were made of flesh, not stone. No matter how angry furious disgusted absolutely devastated you were with everything that happened, with what they did and didn't do, you still, or at least had, loved them. That love didn't vanish over the span of a week. Lord know your broken heart hadn't. "We'll do better."

"It's not that simple." You shook your head, your palms covering your eyes as they began to prickle. You hoped the motion would come across as tired frustration, but John knew. It was your tell. You were close to crying. You always rubbed your face when you were upset.

"It is." He said, finally taking the chance to touch you. Even if it was just to hold your hands in his calloused ones. "We mucked things up, let us fix it. Give us at least the change to be better."

"How?" You asked. "Stop fucking yelling at me for a couple of months until something makes you blow your fucking lid and I'm left feeling like a little kid who's in trouble?" You were surprised not to see him flinch away, but the soft look in his eyes was enough to break your heart all over again. "Or Kyle actually showing up for dates? Johnny not treating me like a fuck buddy?"

"We haven't been good to you." He admits and you still don't feel better. Leaving them hasn't made you feel any better. Only angrier. Yelling at him didn't. Fucking Johnny and breaking his heart didn't. Maybe Mer had a point. Just not with Percy. "We all wanted you and slacked off in doing right by ya."

"So what?" You press. "You want to resume where we left off? I just take you all back and work through the fact of how shitty you all were and hope that you make it up to me?

"No," he shook his head. "Not like that."

"Then what?" You asked.

"I'm fighting for me and you. No one else." You didn't know what to say. The four of them had always been a part of the deal. All or nothing. I mean, the fact that you even entertained the idea of being with all of them was the reasoning that if one of them had went down on the field, three more were there to take care of you.

"If the others can get their own shit together great." He shrugged his shoulders. "If I can't and they can, that's fine too." He stared in your eyes and for a moment, you thought about the first time John apologized for getting angry. Not at you, just in front of you. How he had gotten on his knees and told you the last thing he wanted was for you to be afraid of him. To look at him the same way recruits looked at him. "But I think where we failed was all of us was expecting another one to pick up the slack."

That much was true. Where others failed, others thrived. Simon always stayed after sex, Johnny never raised his voice, John was insistent on going on dates, and Gaz was emotionally available... when he was around at least.

"I know I wasn't the man I needed to be. I wasn't the man you deserved. I took things out on you that weren't your fault. I spoke to you in a way that if any other man did, I would knock him right the fuck out." He shook his head before giving your hands a squeeze. "I'll do what I need to do to set things right between you and me. I'll put in the work to do whatever it takes to have you trust me again."

"It wasn't about not trusting you." You counter

"But it is now." He said. "You don't trust me to respect you; to show kindness, patience. And I know I have my own shit to sort out before even thinking about us being like we were. When things were good, I mean."

You don't know what to say, but you can't say he's right. You don't trust him. Not with your heart. Not anymore.

Moments of silence pass before John lets go of your hands and takes a quick survey of the boxes around you. Your background music of Van Morrison still playing softly from the speaker near your computer.

"You seem busy, so I'll let you get to it." He takes in a deep breath. You're expecting another spiel about how he promises to work on it. Just to give him a chance. You're actually worried you'll consider it. "I picked up your usual. Figured things haven't changed that much since we last went to our spot down by the river."

"Haven't been there in a minute."

"You wouldn't." He said. "Closed the place and moved shop. It's over by the park."

"The one with the asshole geese or the one where Johnny and I were flashed by that guy strung out?" That makes him laugh. You can't remember the last time John laughed. The way his eyes crinkled and his smile shifted his whole face into something entirely joyous.

You missed it.

"Asshole geese." He answered before turning and heading to the door. You didn't speak until the chime of the bell rang.

"What if the others don't?" You ask before he had the chance to close the door. "Get their shit together, I mean."

He turned, giving you that signature closed smile that makes him look like a quokka. You told him that once and he had to googling before arguing that he didn't look like the world's happiest rodent. "That's on them. I have my own work to do." His smile dropping into something softer. Something pleading and pitiful. "But, we still want this. We all still want this. Want you."

You shook your head. The threat of tears returning as you realized how wrong he was. Maybe he did. But not all of them. "Simon doesn't." you huffed, arms crossing over your chest. "He's made that much clear."

"That I don't believe." He shook his head. "Not for a minute."

"Believe it." You sucked in air through your nose as if trying to clear it. Price knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn't see you cry. He knew you wouldn't want him to even if he wanted to stay and make up for all the times he was the reasons behind your tears.

"I didn't do what I needed to and I'll do whatever it takes to get you back." He promises. "But if it came down to it... if you want to settle down and just chose one of us to have you, to keep you," he took in a deep breath. The next words like a knife twisting in his chest. "I wouldn't truly love you if I didn't tell you that Simon is the only one of us who deserves you."

"Why?" You knew in that moment Simon hadn't told John about that night. About his cruel words and your realization that he was right. There was never a true happily ever after with them.

"Because he's the only one willing to hide in the shadows and let you live your life," his smile now gone completely. "I'm sorry that I'm too selfish to do that."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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rafesangelita · 29 days ago

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…DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚🦴⊹♡

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who tend to draw questionable looks everywhere they go— mainly because of puppy. if she’s not running circles around john b, gently gnawing on his finger, or getting into something she’s not supposed to, she’s bickering with jj until she starts crying because of something he said. dad!johnb picked up the nickname due to him being naturally authoritative and protective over puppy!reader. she called him ‘dad’ after he lectured her about eating too much sugar and the name just stuck. despite puppy always having pet tendencies, she didn’t really fall into the headspace until after her and john b got together and they started practicing it regularly. it started when he hand fed her snacks out of his palm as a joke, and slowly but surely it progressed into head patting, dry humping (on john b’s leg..), use of a collar, and eventually some barking and panting here and there..

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who spend their days lounging around the chateau when john b doesn’t have to work, both of them relaxing on the couch while puppy sucks on his fingers. she’s drooling, her spit dribbling down her chin until john b pulls his hand away, instead taking her in his lap where he gives her tummy rubs until she dozes off in his arms. she’s gazing up at dad!johnb with those puppy dog eyes as she whimpers, the sound drawing his attention. he already knows what she’s crying for, his eyes flickering over to her shoes that were thrown haphazardly by the front door. “go ahead and go outside, i’ll be out there right now.” without hesitation, puppy is rushing out the door, john b shaking his head as she trips over her shoelaces. he walks out and sits on the porch steps with a cold water bottle for her, wondering how in the hell she managed to make a huge stack of mud pies already.

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who usually have to have a pep talk before the boys come around. “whatever jj tries to get you to do, don’t listen to him,” he warns, “—and remember, you can’t go running to pope with random bugs and asking him what they are, got it?” she nods dismissively and dad!johnb just knows everything he said went in one ear and right out the other. surely enough, puppy ends up doing everything john b told her not to do and she finds herself being locked in the room after rough playing with jj and accidentally crashing into the tv. she just ends up falling asleep on her bed until john b is waking her up with an icecream date as an apology. “birthday cake or cotton candy?” john b is asking her as she presses her face against the glass case displaying all of the icecream flavors in the shop. puppy answers ‘both’ before joining pope and jj in a booth, her and jj separated on either sides. “i love you, pup, but those flavors are horrid.” pope grimaced.

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who are so icky when the chateau is empty and it’s just them two. john b has her crawling on all fours completely naked, letting her rut herself against him and her pillow, giving her butt rubs as she oral fixates on his cock, making her hold her pee while he edges her time and time again until she’s a whining mess. puppy is crying out, her fingers pulling at the tuft curls of john b’s hair as he fucks into her from below, her knees sitting on either sides of john b’s thighs. she’s licking him, running her tongue along the column of his throat, her lips leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses while he bounces her on top of him. “you’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good, pup..” john b praises, her whimpers being a testament to just how stuffed full she was with john b’s length, his cock rearranging her insides with every thrust, “think you deserve a treat after this, huh?” she’s nodding, not able to speak a single word as all thoughts die in her head.

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who are very territorial over each other. john b is super aware of the way some guys look at her and can tell when someone is trying to take advantage of her naivety. he keeps her close no matter what, but on the rare occasions where she may wander off or get herself into trouble, john b is quick to swoop in and get her before anyone else could. as for puppy, she’s shameless when it comes to establishing herself as john b’s. she’s draping herself across john b’s lap while they’re at a boneyard party, rubbing her cheek against him as if to coax him into scratching her head, not so subtly grinding on his thigh, and of course it works every time in scaring off anyone trying to get at him. pope and jj are watching everything unfold, both of them not surprised in the slightest as they watch puppy and john b sneak off to the twinkie. “well! there goes our ride back home..” pope sighed, jj still watching the twinkie until he spots puppy’s feet in the air.

୨୧ puppy’s punishments ୨୧ icky chateau activities ୨୧ puppy has a meltdown in her cage.. ୨୧ when dad!johnb monitors your screentime

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swordsandholly · 11 months ago

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part Nine: The Expo

Your eyes widen to saucers as you climb out of John’s work van. The event hall in front of you is huge - the largest in the city. A big, glass dome with a high-end hotel attached. It glows in the morning sun. Lines of people have already formed out front. You passed them on your way around to the vendor entrance. It’s the twentieth anniversary for the Tattoo Expo, apparently, which means they expect massive crowds.

“I hate that Kyle couldn’t come.” You frown as a security worker hands over your badge. It’s fancy - heavy weight with brightly colored, neo-traditional graphics. Something about having the word VENDOR hanging around your neck makes your heart skip.

John sighs, heaving one of the boxes of his books onto your dolly. “Yeah. He tried but he couldn’t get his head out of the toilet long enough to do much of anythin’.”

You wrinkle your nose. Apparently he had caught some nasty stomach bug, poor guy. You thought about calling and checking in on him, but you worried that was too clingy. After… everything, you don’t want to come off as anything other than normal about it. Which you are. Totally normal.

At least Johnny was home for the day to help him out.

“Has Simon ever come?” You ask, titling the dolly pack to push into the convention hall.

John’s arms flex as he fights with his rolling tool box to get the handle back out so he can pull it. He just had to wear a sleeveless muscle tee, didn’t he? It’s rude, frankly. You look over his more rarely exposed shoulder and upper arm pieces - some more faded than others. Some more colorful, some better crafted. Part of you wants to reach out - to trace them the same way you want to with Simon. You want to ask him in detail about each one. Maybe he’ll let you, someday.

“Can you actually picture Simon in a convention hall?” He chuckles eventually, finally getting the toolbox rolling properly.

You laugh. “Guess not.”

The 141 booth sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by a few other big-name shops and figures in the community. You glance around at them, only recognizing a few. You don’t get much time to look around. There are only a couple hours designated for set up and you have to help hang all the flash options, get the cash box sorted, and be ready for the flood when it comes. You’ve mentally prepared for chaos, reading through pretty much every reddit and twitter thread you could find about convention disasters. You know that won’t happen here, and even if something did, John wouldn’t abandon you to it. Still, you feel better being mentally prepared for anything - no matter how unrealistic.

“Why do you still do these?” You ask, pinning one of the large flash sheets to the display board. “I mean - you don’t exactly have to get your name out there.”

“I enjoy them- the community. I was here when this was still bein’ held underground in an old warehouse.” John looks around, eyes scanning the rows of artists. He doesn’t share his thoughts, just stands there quietly for a moment with his hands on his hips. After a few beats he grumbles quietly, “Gettin’ old…”

You focus on setting up the front table where you’ll be stationed. John brought a few prints of work as well as several copies of his book. He brought a few signed ones as well, only selling them for about twenty more bucks than the usual price. You asked why he doesn’t mark them up more, but he just shrugged you off with a mutter of ‘I’m not all that’ before moving on to another task. You decided it was best not to argue that he is, indeed, all that. His books are literally filled until the late fall.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so proud of setting up a decently aesthetically pleasing display all on your own when you’re surrounded by real artists, but you still grin wide with your hands on your hips. It’s simple, with cards for each of the boys lining one sit and a roll of tattoo tickets for the day beside the cash box. The table cloth with the shop’s name looks nearly identical to the sign. One might call it lazy marketing, you find it charming.

“Somethin’ happen with you and Kyle?” John asks suddenly, back turned as he messes with something in his rolling tool box full of supplies.

You freeze, eyes wide and mouth dry. Did Kyle say something? You thought you’d been normal about it. Kyle hadn’t acted any differently - which shouldn’t have hurt your feelings - and you were sure you’d met him with the same level of normalcy. The past weeks race through your mind. Every moment, every interaction, picking each apart into threads in milliseconds.

“Uh, no? Why?” It comes out squeaky. Unsure. Lord, you really are a terrible liar.

John hums. He’s quiet for barely a beat, a moment that seems to stretch for lifetimes. You can almost feel your cells aging while you wait. “You’ve been quieter than usual around him. Just wanted t’make sure.”

“Oh.” Had you? You thought you’d been the same as always. Both of you totally moved on from… the incident. Well, except for those few times you caught yourself staring - zoning out while thinking about the way his lips pressed to yours. Imagining Kyle pulling you into the back room again. Another kiss with less nervousness and more heat. Actually bending you over the desk properly-

“Y’with me, love?” John snaps you back to reality.

“Yeah!” You jump and stutter. “Yeah. No. We’re fine. I’m… fine.”

You wonder if the giant guy in the weird homemade mask at the booth across from yours would smash your head in if you paid him. Let him free you from the torment of embarrassment. It had been eating away at you, if you’re honest with yourself, and now lying right to John’s face just feels… awful. He’ll find out. You know he will. Maybe he already knows as that was a test. Fuck if it was, you totally just failed.

The clock turns to nine, and you have no choice but to let that be a problem for your future self.

Something you realize rather quickly as the attendees begin to flood the hall is that John is a god here. People don’t meet his eye. They speak meekly, even to you, with voices low and faces flushed. The line for your booth stretches down the walkway as soon as the doors open - appointment tickets practically flying out of your hands. You overhear a pair of friends muttering about sleeping outside overnight to get in early enough for John’s booth. It makes your head spin.

You wonder if they’d still act that way if they saw him snoring open-mouthed at the desk in the back room mid-afternoon.

“Thought I heard 141 got a new front desk girl.” A syrupy southern accident lilts above you just as you finish selling tickets. He’s handsome. Blonde and blue eyed with a little scar gracing his cheekbone. Not much younger than John, you don’t think. Probably around Simon’s age.

You slip on your usual customer service smile. “Hello! How can I-”

“Graves.” John grunts behind you, not even looking up from the work in front of him. “What d’you want?”

“Just wanted to come see how you were.” The man - Graves - grins wide. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And to meet your new front of house. Philip.”

You take the hand he holds out, giving a perfunctory shake and your name. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that John doesn’t like this guy, whoever he is, and you’re inclined to trust his judgement. You opt for basic small talk. “Are you an artist?”

Graves nods. “I own Shadow & Co. It’s a few blocks over from your place.”

Oh. You’d heard of them. They came highly recommended when you were looking for artists in the area initially. In the end you opted for John based entirely on vibes. The Shadow building is far too modern - to minimalist - for your liking. Too corporate.

“Y’know, we’re looking for a new desk girl as well.” Graves smiles. You do your best not to sneer at his use of desk girl. “We’re growing pretty quick - even if you wanted to split your time-”

“She’s full time with us.” John snaps - blatant irritation lining the edges of his voice. He still doesn’t turn around.

The blonde man pauses, glancing between you. Something passes over his eyes - some implicit knowing that you don’t quite get - but it’s gone just as fast as it came. He digs into his pocket, flipping open a too-new wallet and pulling out a business card. “Well, if you ever want to work somewhere more exciting-” you nearly laugh at that. “-give us a call, hm?”

You glance up to his face, then back down at the card. John’s tattoo gun continues to buzz behind you, but you can tell he’s slowed down. He’s listening. Before even really thinking you extend your hand, pushing the card he holds away from you.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m very happy here.”

Philip scoffs, dropping the card on the table. “Keep us in mind, yeah?”

He disappears into the crowd easily - blending in just like his shop’s namesake. Your nose wrinkles. You snatch up the card and tear it in two. “Dickhead.”

You think you hear John chuckling behind you, but can’t be sure over the roar of the convention.

The day flies by - people bustle by your booth. You run out of signed books just over halfway through - prints not long after. Your voice feels hoarse from talking to so many people. The hall has grown quite hot and you’re sure that your hair looks insane at this point. Either way, you’re having a great time. You get to talk to a with full body trash polka that you like for some reason. You get to meet one of the people involved in the stage competition - her massive thigh piece holding some of the best color work you’ve ever seen. All in all, despite the discomfort, you think this ranks in your top ten favorite days. Maybe top five.

“Excuse me?” Murmurs a voice so soft you almost miss it entirely over the roar of the convention. When you look up, you’re met with a painfully young face. Definitely not old enough for the 17+ entrance requirement.

“Hi!” You put on your warmest smile. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh, I was just…” They stutter, shifting in place. “I- Are there any signed copies left?”

You look them over, a too-familiar pang in your chest. You know those eyes, that anxiety. The jumpy way they look around at the people passing by and tug at their sleeves. Your teeth sink into your lip and you look over at the three blanks that make up your entire left over stock. Glancing over your shoulder, you see John finishing with his current client - giving the man a firm handshake before turning to clean up his station. There’s a fifteen minute break until the next one - his last for the night - and as much as you don’t want to take up his precious little time to set up…

“Let me check!” You squeak, shaky as you grab one of the blanks with all the subtlety of a brick over the head and cross the few feet over to where John sits. You lean over to speak in his ear, low enough that the kid won’t hear you. “John?”

“Hm?” He hums, turning slightly on his stool.

“Can you sign this one?” You chew your lip. “I know you had a set amount but this kid looks so…”

He glances behind you at the teenager in question, bashfully staring at their feet.

“I’m sorry, I know you need to set up for the next-”

John cuts you off by taking the book from your hands and standing.

“Thanks, dove.” He gives you that lovely, warm smile and rolls his shoulders before making his way over to the front table.

The teenager’s eyes go so wide you think they might pop out of their head. You decide to hang back and not interrupt their moment. John sets the book on the table and grabs a sharpie from your back up stash of pens. The kid mumbles something you can’t understand. John’s voice lowers as well. You can’t hear them, but you watch John scrawl something in the book and hand it over. He pushes away the crumpled, messy wad of cash the teenager tries to give him, shaking his head and saying something else that you don’t catch. The kid looks like they’re about to cry, a wide, wet grin splitting their face as they say goodbye and practically prance away.

You melt, shoulders slouching and what you’re sure is a very stupid smile breaking out across your lips. You don’t know why you doubted him for even a moment.

“What’s that face?” John scoffs, cocking a brow at you.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and re-take your spot at the table.

The ending of the convention is rather uneventful. Some of the other booths begin clearing up early. You take the time to count the cash box - which is absolutely stuffed to the brim. John rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck about five times in the span of a few minutes. Maybe you could convince them to do a company yoga class. It’s easy to see how tense and tired they get. You file that idea away for later.

Luckily most of the booth set up belonged to the venue and, since you sold out of books and prints, you don’t have haul those back to the van. All you have to take is John’s rolling toolbox and tattooing table. All things that easily fit in your bag and dolly. Thank god. Neither of you speak much on the drive back to the shop - opting for comfortable silence. Your ears ring ever so slightly from the noise of the convention hall. When you were in it, you hadn’t realized just how loud it was. John’s eyes are locked on the road, the slight glow from the setting sun warming his skin.

The sun just disappears over the horizon as you put the last of the equipment in the backroom - stacked rather messily but that’s another problem for future you. You’ve been working for a grand total of fourteen hours and, somehow, it still has yet to hit you. Adrenaline and excited energy still pulse under your skin.

John sighs loudly, crossing each arm over his chest to stretch them out. “Could really go for a scotch right now. You want a nightcap?”

Your cheeks warm, still riding high from the excitement of the day you agree easily. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He gives you a gentle smile, softened further by the low street lights. “Let me show you a spot.”

The place John leads you to is small. Local. You sit at the bar and take a moment to look around. Three pool tables take up half the floor space. It looks like a small tournament is going on - a white board showing the matches and who will go against who next. Two ski-ball machines are tucked in a corner beside the bathroom, currently taken up by two younger men who you aren’t completely sure are drinking age. The lights and music are both low. One of the bartenders is posted up on the opposite end of the bar with two other people watching Shin Godzilla on the mounted television. It’s cozy and oh-so very John Price.

You get an easy sipper, something fruity and sweet as a treat for the long day you’ve had. It’s nice against the warmth of the summer evening. A heat that’s only aggravated by the one that settles in your spine whenever the guys are around. John especially.

“Think that kid was a little young for the event…” You blurt in a poor attempt to make conversation.

John nods along. “Definitely.”

“That was really nice of you. I didn’t want to… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure why exactly the words won’t stop. You blame the drinks and exhaustion. Seems realistic enough. “They just seemed so sad.”

“Wasn’t nice. Just the right thing t’do.” John shrugs. His words come slow, almost as if he’s unsure if he should say them. Though, you find it hard to believe he has ever been unsure about anything in his life. “I know what its like… to need t’escape. Lied about my age just to enlist.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really?”

He hums. “They didn’t care much back then.”

For some reason you never thought about John’s childhood - his homelife. You know he has a mom somewhere. Kyle let it slip a couple of times - said she’s a really good cook. John doesn’t volunteer information about himself often, you gathered that much. He’s worse than Simon, somehow, which says a fucking lot.

“Did-” you mull over your words. “You didn’t grow up around here, yeah?”

It’s a clumsy attempt at getting him to talk, but it works well enough. He nods. “Hereford. My mum’s still out there.”

Score. “Do you visit her much?”

John shrugs, chuckling. “When I can. I could move back home and it wouldn’t be enough for her.”

You snicker.

“She’s the best woman I’ve ever known…” He murmurs, eyes far away. It’s only for a moment, but they look past you. Defocused in a way that seems to out of character for the hyper-aware man.

Your faces are close. Hunched in like school kids exchanging secrets and gossip during recess. Your eyes dart from his to his lips and back. It’s confusing. All of this. The intimacy you have with each of them in these moments is overwhelming. You like Kyle - you liked kissing Kyle - you really shouldn’t be wanting that from your boss, though. A co-worker is bad enough but John… John is off limits. You know that. Even so, you find yourself subconsciously leaning just a bit closer, eyes roving over the freckles you don’t see standing further away and the grey flecks in his eyes. You think, for barely a millisecond, that he leans in too.

Until he sits up straight, tossing back what little is left of his drink. “Let’s head out. Could go for a smoke.”

You nod, swallowing down your thoughts and following him out of the bar like a lost puppy. You’d follow him to the end of the earth, you think. Even if it hurts that you can’t get as close as you want, you’d go anywhere for him. Yeah, that’s definitely the drink and tiredness talking. Part of you also knows that it is undoubtedly true.

John rounds a corner to the side of the bar. It’s moderately lit, a single street lamp just down the way giving you just enough light to see. You lean against the wall beside John, the exhaustion beginning to cling to your eyes.

“Are you?” John asks suddenly.

“Hm?” You hum, unsure of what he’s asking about.

“Happy here?” He cuts the end off a cigar he pulled from the silver box that lives in his back pocket.

In the low light of the alley, his pupils overtake most of his irises. Dark and intense as he looks you over from head to toe. You see it, suddenly. The god that the others do. He’s not as physically large as Simon, or as loud as Johnny, but he fills every inch of any space he enters regardless. You suppose you became so used to being in that radius that you forgot just how much presence he carries. You’ve wrapped yourself in it like a blanket. A shield.

Your cheeks warm and you shuffle your feet. “I… yeah.”

“Good.” John sighs out a cloud of smoke. “It’d be a pain in the arse to replace you. The boys care about you too much.”

You stare up at him. You can feel something on the edge of his tone - some weight that you don’t understand. There always seems to be another layer to the things he says. Implications that you can’t understand, context that you’re missing. Part of you wants to ask, needs to ask, but the words get stuck in your throat. What would you say? You’re not even entirely sure what you need to ask. You know they care about you, and you care for them in turn, so why does it feel like there’s something missing?

“Does the boys include you?” You blurt, one again wishing that big guy from the convention was here to smash your head in like wile e. cayote and the anvil.

He looks you up and down, slightly taken aback while you debate on bolting. “Thought that was obvious.”

You scoff, still flustered. “You’re hard to read.”

“Am I, now?”

You nod. A comfortable silence falls over you, despite the awkwardness surely emanating from you. Your lip catches between your teeth, eyes on your feet. “John?”

“Dove?” He tilts his head, once again leaning ever so slightly closer to you.

“Thank you. For everything.” You murmur, voice low and unsure. “It’s… it’s really good here.”

“Think nothin’ of it, love.”

You look up at those pretty blue eyes. They always make your chest ache with some deep hole you haven’t been able to pin down. At first you could blame it on wanting to do well - to be a good employee. It’s more than that, though. It starts in your chest and seeps it’s way through the rest of you. A want. A craving. That’s the word. You crave those eyes on you. The weight of his hands, the fortitude of him.

You’re not sure who closes the gap - whether it’s you or him - but either way it closes. It’s too natural for the context of your relationship. You slot together too well. It’s not like with Kyle. John carries an intensity with him that Kyle never could. His beard scratches not unpleasantly. His lips are warm - you can taste hints of scotch and his cigar. He smells of spice and earth. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders - unsure of where to put them.

This is wrong. It’s messy. You already lied about Kyle, which he’ll surely find out. If he hasn’t already. What about Johnny? Or Simon? Will they think less of you? Are you less for this? For impulsively kissing your boss in some back alley? Will Kyle be angry if he finds out? Your thoughts surge, all chaotic waves crashing against each other in an attempt to make sense of this situation you find yourself in.

John’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your arms drape around his neck as you push onto your tips toes to meet him.

That’s a problem for future you.

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to escalate it or not but I want to get a move on with these boys

#poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #141 x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #fem reader #plus size reader #fat reader

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quokkaholic · 3 months ago

Text

Otaku Hot Boys minsung

Warnings/tags: MDNI, smut w/plot, friends to ?poly?, picking on reader, cussing, light degradation, some mxm but like its not the focus, giggly, sweet, threesome with some body worship, oral both, protected👏 p in v, subby!Han bc i can’t stop myself, dom!Lee know the dynamics only extend to the reader, shy/embarrassed reader, weeb slander. This is biased towards Han bc I too am biased towards Han. Lightly edited

Synopsis: At your weekly "otaku club" to discuss all things manga/anime with your two close friends, they seem to be a bit too interested in your recent spike in bl media enjoyment.

Terms for you non-losers: bl/yaoi- boys love or media centered on gay relationships, gl/yuri- girls love or media centered on lesbian relationships, otaku- person consumed by their interests (typically anime, manga, video games, etc.), fujoshi-means rotten girl, it's typically a girl who is really into bl media

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Tonight is the night. The night you look forward to every week. It's your friends’ otaku club, the night where you and your two fellow weebs get together to talk about any new media you’ve consumed usually centered around anime and manga. You've been steeped in this type of media since the moment you were introduced to it years ago. So much so that, you even became a part time worker at your local manga cafe/bookstore. Beyond supplying some extra income, the employee discount is unbeatable. At work is actually where you met the guys.

Minho wandered in one day, drawn in by the cheerful anime themes bumping through the speakers and the promise of cute, themed drinks. After ordering a pudding latte, he browsed the isles for what seemed like an eternity, long enough that you actually went to offer assistance, which you never do. Generally speaking, anime lovers aren’t the most comfortable in social situations, and you were no exception. Plus, the type of person that comes to a manga cafe tends to know what they like, or came in for a specific title.

He had done a few laps around the place before you decided it was enough, you had to say something. Begrudgingly, you placed down the volume you were enjoying, being careful to keep your spot but not damage the book, as you weren’t intending on buying it. If you bought every volume of every manga you read, you’d be hugely indebted to this place, more than you already are; the owner, luckily, is cool enough to allow you to take some books home and just deduct the total from your next paycheck. After cautiously approaching the seemingly lost Minho, you greeted him,

“Hi, is there something I can help you find?” your ears heated at simply having to speak to him.

“Oh no!” he responded quickly, surprised as you had pulled him out of his mind and back to reality,

“I’ve never been here and was just looking around; you guys have a great selection, good mix of the new, classic, and obscure,” he complimented between sips. The nerves had you briefly spacing out on the chunks of pudding rising up the straw, snapping out of it when you noticed the silence. It was your turn to talk,

“Yes, thank you, I’ll be sure to tell the owner. She’ll really appreciate that. Well—let me know if you need anything,” you rushed away, retreating back to the stool behind the counter to pick up reading where you left off. Minho continued to look around for a while, occasionally picking up a book to read the back cover or sample the art style. He remained until he finally checked his phone, eyes bugging at the time displayed. He practically ran out the door, but not before apologizing for not buying anything and promising he would return with his roommate, and he did later that week.

You three were not fast friends. They, like your typical customer, kept to themselves. Similar to Minho, Han’s first time in the store was spent in awe, walking up and down the same isles trying to take in the entire stock while sucking down the chocolatiest drink on the menu. After that, they were regulars. Visiting at least once a week, buying a few volumes or anime merch each but sometimes just visiting for a sweet treat of tea or coffee.

Though you never talked to them outside of your scripted retail speech, you were always happy to see them in the store. They were admittedly pleasant to look at, but beyond that they were always kind and friendly to you, and it was cute to see the best friends interact.

You longed for a relationship like that. You had a few good friends, but none of them shared your interest in this form of media. You could talk about it with customers, but you could never share your unadulterated opinions or gossip about characters with the strangers. On top of being a joy to look at and interact with, the guys actually had good and diverse tastes, not just solely interested in shonen, action, and fanservice. You had actually picked up a few of the stories they had bought from you. Some you had heard of and some were definitely outside of your typical genres, but they were all shockingly good, one of them even making it into your top tier. After finishing their unknowing recommendations, you’d toy with the idea of complementing their choices, practicing what you’d say if you saw them at work.

Of course, they would never come in on the days where you had built up the courage to say something, and you’d tell yourself you were disappointed, but it was secretly a relief. Then, when they would be there, you’d find some other reason not to say anything, maybe they looked like they were in a hurry, or were too deep in their own conversation, or you’d simply psyched yourself out of it by convincing yourself that they would be weirded out by how much attention you pay to their purchases.

This went on for weeks until finally Jisung crossed that customer/employee line for you. He eagerly strode up to the counter, Minho following leisurely in toe, with the first volume of the manga you were currently enjoying at your post by the register,

“I’ve seen you reading this series the last few times we’ve come in, is it any good?” he’d asked cooly, placing it along with a few others in front of you to ring up. His impassioned energy and deviation from your usual interaction, made your heart race and stomach flip. You didn’t or maybe couldn’t respond, just stared as he minorly fumbled around checking all his pockets for his wallet. You stayed like that for a few moments until Minho finally arrived at the counter, casually reaching into his jacket and pulling out the man's wallet and handing it to him only after bumping him with his elbow in a silent scold for misplacing the wallet for the umpteenth time.

“Oh— yeah. It’s definitely worth a read; I have my issues with the plot, but stunning art makes up for it,” you’ve probably already said too much. You’re paid to make sales, not to be a manga critic, but Jisung doesn’t make any moves to put the book back. He just hands you his card like always, before asking,

“Really, like what?” That’s where the friendship started. That day, they stayed leaned up against the counter until the end of your shift discussing their recent reads and watches and asking your opinions on the classics to gauge how similar your tastes were, of which they were shockingly similar.

Although you were nervous at first, you had built at least a little rapport with them through the months of being their cashier, and talking about a major interest of yours made it that much easier to overcome any sort of social anxiety on both yours and their parts. Even after it was time for you to head home, Minho bought you a drink from the cafe, and you all found a quiet corner to continue your discussion. This became a regular occurrence. If you were there when they came in, and they didn’t have somewhere else to be, they’d spend time nerding out with you. Eventually, they learned your schedule, and made sure to come in on your shifts to hangout. It was never an issue beyond the occasional shush from reading customers when your “friendly” debates got a bit too rowdy.

You never liked the shift manager; they were unsympathetic and rude, doing things like denying time off requests for no good reason and timing breaks just to excerpt any semblance of power they had over the other workers. They even tried to get you in trouble for reading on the job, when you first started, but luckily the owner was able to pick up on the blatant absurdity of the complaint. Since then you didn’t have any more problems with them, but at the staff meeting when they made a “completely general” and “unpointed” comment about ensuring we weren’t neglecting job duties to “flirt with hot boys”, you knew they were talking straight at you. Despite always getting all you work done and then some, you knew you had to put an end to the on-the-clock book club, or it would become an actual problem, warranted or not.

The thought of not getting to hang out with Jisung and Minho circulated your mind non-stop after the initial embarrassment and anger over getting indirectly called out at work. Not only were you anxious to have a weird friend breakup, you were sad that you could be back to having no one to talk to about your more niche interests. They’d never seemed interested in seeing you outside of work; would this be the end?

You endlessly mulled over how to deal with it until the very second they walked through the door on your next shift, their cheery faces dropped upon laying eyes on your obviously stressed demeanor. They’d whisper something back and forth before speed walking straight over to cautiously greet you.

“Hey guys,” you say, cringing at the thought of what you’re gonna say next, “so I may have gotten in some pseudo trouble and was told I can’t hangout at work any more,” you quickly spat out, trying to get it over with as soon as possible, and they just stared back expectedly, waiting for whatever has you so visibly upset, as if you didn’t just say it.

“That’s it?” Jisung asks as almost simultaneously Minho snarkily remarked,

“It's about time. You don’t get anything done when we’re here.” sending you a mocking disappointed glare.

“I will not stand for the slander. Maybe from the manager, but not from you. I always get my tasks done while providing satisfactory customer service. It’s usually a race against the clock after you guys leave, but it always gets done,” you drone on, finding yourself getting a little defensive at his jest causing his smirk to widen to a full smile. You’ve grown to learn that Minho enjoys playful arguments maybe a little too much, but you attempt put an end to it before it can spiral,

“Whatever, I don’t need to defend myself to you,”

“Not me, but maybe this manager of yours,” mocking you for not standing up for yourself. He’s poked fun at you before, so you know its a sign of his friendship, but as if on cue, sensing that you are taking the bait, Jisung butts back in,

“Really though is that it? Is that what has you worried?” You were the one staring back in anticipating and stunned,

“Of course I’m upset; I just said we can’t hangout anymore,” you tried to explain calmly, but you were feeling frantic due to their apparent lack of care at the idea of not talking anymore. Ji’s eyebrows knit together in utter confusion before looking over to his best friend who was looking once again disappointed in you with a slow shaking of his head.

“We can’t hang out here while you’re working,” he slows down his speech emphasizing the key parts of your mandate, hoping you can gather why they aren’t worried about the future of your relationship. While you remained confused, Jisung’s forehead relaxes as his face turns to one of realization, mouth forming a perfect O before returning to his just-entered-my-favorite-bookstore smile and shrugs his shoulders to brush off your concern before he offered the most obvious solution,

“You’ll just start coming over to our place,” he stated, as if it were nothing. He didn’t ask, it was plain to them. You weren’t exiting their life, you were entering their apartment. Minho’s lazy shaking turned to nobbing as if he had been just waiting for you two to finally catch up. That was the end of that. They quickly grabbed what they came for but did stay and chat for a little, but only to make plans for you to come to their place that weekend.

Such was the inception of your weekly otaku club, meeting at their place once a week or having a group call when schedules got too hectic. With weekly meetings, they quickly climbed the ranks, and have become some of your best friends.

This week was the first in person session you had in weeks, and you were beyond ecstatic, stopping at the store to grab drinks and desserts as they were providing the meal and snacks. Upon entering the familiar flat, you remove your shoes and head to the source of the delicious smell and friendly voices. You find the guys setting out the snack and plates for the food Minho must’ve cooked, it looks too good for Jisung to be responsible.

After the meal, you all follow the cute book club ritual of pulling out the books you have been enjoying, and have a show and tell, even though you all already know what eachother are reading. Jisung is working through a sports drama you had recommended, and Minho explained the convoluted plot of the isekai he just got into. When it was your turn you lifted the brightly colored, second to last, volume of the series, you’ve absolutely flown through over the past week,

“I’m almost done with this romance. It’s kind of short, but I have really enjoyed it, and I feel like they took the story in a new and interesting direction,” you continue to give a brief synopsis of the story, leaving out any spoilers, in case they want to read it after you. They had a few questions about the plot and your feelings on it, but there was one blaring question they really wanted to know the answer to,

“What kind of romance?” Ji asked with an inquisitive expression, but it wasn’t pure, there was just a twinge of mischief in his eyes,

“It's an office romance,” you explain hesitantly, trying not to sound condescending as you just gave the summary.

“Yeah?” Minho chimes in trying to draw the answer they really want out of you.

“Well the main guys are salarymen, so its an adult office romance,” your statement sound more like a question as the last words pitch up and die off. You go on, thinking there’s no way they are this dense, and they aren’t, but you might be. At the mention of the main characters being guys, they share a knowing look, silently communicating something to each other, leaving you out of their telepathic conversion.

“Don’t make it weird! I read romance about all sorts of relationships,” they have matching stupid grins as they go back to munching on their food, letting you sit in your slight embarrassment at their implicative shared look. Minho gives that look that says, he’s trying to rile you up before askings nonchalantly, as if there are no intentions behind his words,

“Wasn’t the last series you read yaoi as well?”

“I mean yeah, but Jisung recommended it! It was a good story,” Minho just gives a grunt of acknowledgement to say ‘sure whatever’. Jisung giggles at Minho’s antics, but doesn’t comment. He looks at you with a goofy smile and slight sympathy for the teasing as he searches your face for any signs that Minho is getting to you, but he of course is not. You’re used to banter from Minho, and honestly Jisung too. Maybe being away from you for so long had softened him up a bit, or maybe it was his favorite beer you had brought a case of.

You thought it was the alcohol that buttered Jisung up, but instead the drinks just opened the razzing flood gates. The “bl lover” schtick continues through the evening. The poking fun is usually spread evenly among you three, and if one person becomes the butt of the joke for the night, it never continues to next week so as to not make anyone the punching bag. They love to tease, but are also very considerate about not crossing the line.

The hippocritic taunting continues no matter how many times you remind them of all the yuri, yaoi, and straight romances they themselves had brought to book club. Later, when you play a few rounds of video games, they add ‘fujoshi’ to the normal colorful language they use to curse your name the times you end up winning.

Sometimes you will pick a show to watch together, and although you guys decided to forgo that tonight in favor of catching up, you still pursue the streaming sites sharing insights to for next week, and they hover over every bl they come across and jokingly suggest it or ask you opinion as if you had already seen them all, or simply just stare in your direction with raised eyebrows.

Around the time you usually excuse yourself and head home, you are all sitting around the coffee table finishing off the beer and munching on the snacks. You begin gathering your empty cans and miscellaneous trash, and the conversation abruptly halts as Min sternly questions your actions.

“Just wanted to clean up a bit before heading out,” you explain, rising to your knees to reach for some of their garbage since you’re already headed to the kitchen.

“You should stay here,” he says matter of factly shoving another chip into his mouth and gesturing to the empty beers in your arms, taking the rational approach. Jisung, with his sweet round eyes staring up at you, chimes in with the emotional persuasion. They make a great team.

“The couch is really comfy, I promise.”

“I’ve only had four of these beers over the past few hours, plus I took the bus here anyway,” attempting to politely decline. It would be nice not having to make the commute home at this hour, but you’d hate to burden them.

“The last bus is in 20 minutes, you’d have to run to the nearest stop,” Minho makes a good point, but the cringey thought of them having to kick you out the next morning allows you to remain stubborn, but before you can refuse again, Han’s words make your heart squeeze,

“We don’t want you to leave,” now you’re definitely staying. You still take the trash to the kitchen and sort out the recycling before grabbing one more round of beers from their stash upon the guys’ request. You resume chatting over some background music, occasionally singing along. While you are far from drunk, with the alcohol in your system, it's getting harder and harder to ignore how devastatingly good looking your two friends are. It doesn’t help that their frequent whispering back and forth gives you ample uninterrupted time to gawk. They are of course closer to each other than they are with you, but it does seem like they’ve been conspiring quite a bit more than usual.

A chaste glance from Jisung breaks your trance. He turns back to Minho and it is your turn to look anywhere but at them, studying the rug, reading the nutrition facts on your drink, admiring the wall decor, looking away until you can get your blushing under control. Your efforts were all in vain, as when you finally look back towards the men across the table, you lock eyes with them as if they were waiting for your gaze to fall on them before doing the very last thing you ever would’ve expected. They stare back at you with a look commanding your eyes to remain locked on them as they turn to each other, already closer to one another than the last time you looked their way. Minho looks down to Han’s plush lips just as his tongue peaks out to moisten them putting on a sultry show for you. Minho gives a miniscule nod before they lean closer impossibly slow to drag out your suspense.

Are they really doing this? Talk about committed to the bit. The moment their lips meet, you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, causing the corners of their connected lips to quirk up. This is exactly what they wanted. The kiss wasn’t long, but to you watching, it felt like an eternity. You tried to look away, but you just couldn't, maybe due to your own curiosity or maybe as to not disobey their silent order to watch. When they pull away a thin string of saliva still connecting them, the slightly raised corners of their spread to full faced grins at the sight of your hands shooting up to cover your flushing face.

“I think she liked it,” Jisung remarks, running his hands through his hair, pushing back the stands that fell out of place during the kiss. His typical silly, awkward self melting away leaving behind his confident, charismatic side you had seen on a few occasions, emboldened by him and his best friends scheme going just as they had hoped.

“I knew it,” Minho adds, even though you haven’t built up the courage to look at them, he sounds closer to you than before.

“She’s a freak just like we thought,” he adds, definitely closer. Once you gather the strength to uncover your face, you find your friends have moved to join you on your side of the table, one on either side near enough to feel the heat radiating off their bodies. Though they haven’t explicitly stated it, their intentions are beyond clear, their eyes hungrily wandering over you,

“Do you want this?” Minho questioned in a low and calm tone, tamping down his eagerness until you give him an answer,

“If not, we can blame this on the liquor and just move past it, pretend nothing even happened,” Jisung assures you, unable to conceal his brimming desire as well as Minho, his eyes locked on your lips as he reaches for your hand for support. Staring down at your intertwined fingers, you contemplate for a moment,

“I do, but—” you start, Minho’s hand slipping into your field to rest on your mid thigh, softly moving his fingers side to side in reassurance,

“What about our friendship? What about otaku club?” your query makes them giggle, embuing you with the strength to look up to their eyes. They are quick to answer, as if they prepared for this exact question beforehand, Jisung talks first,

“Nothing has to change if we don’t want it to,” he speaks into your hair as he leans in to plant a sweet kiss to the side of your skull, when Minho picks up where he left off,

“We really like you y/n, and love spending time with you. Whether we go back to the way it was or forge something new, we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not sure of anything beyond that, and that we’ve wanted this for a long time,” his words make your heart lurch. God you’ve wanted them too, but didn’t want to jeopardize the amazing relationship you had built. You know them. You trust them. You can navigate this together. A small nod of your head has Minho smashing his lips to yours, passionately enough to suck the air from your lungs.

His kiss is powerful and demanding while still being highly cognisant of your response and adjusting his fire to keep you comfortable. Your mingling lips quickly find timing against each other, his tongue gently coaxing your lips to part for him to explore you. Tingles flooding your body when his warm tongue finally touches yours.

Jisung continues to kiss along the side of your head and down to your ear. He places feathery kisses over the cartilage, playfully nipping at your earlobe, careful to avoid your piercing. He lets out a happy sound when you squeeze the hand he’s still loyally gripping. He trails his kisses down to the soft spot below your ear before peppering your cheek, inching to your lips ready for his turn with your mouth. He gets close enough to catch the corner of your mouth in his before he’s able to bully Minho off you. You’re barely able to take a breath before Jisung’s lips are on yours. His movements are more timid but also more desperate, his need evident in his pace and little groans. This moment is better than you could've ever imagined. Despite Ji’s neediness, you are the one giving short licks at his full bottom lip asking for entrance, which he grants immediately.

Minho has moved to your neck, sucking and kissing, his arm snaking around your waist pulling you closer to them. Arching into them, your hands slide up to rest on their built chests, and you can feel them both smiling against your skin. Your chest is heaving from the lack of oxygen and immense lust thick in the air.

“We should get off the floor; I fear if we don’t do it now, you’ll be bent over the coffee table,” Jisung suggests causing Minho to let out a hushed laugh. Despite knowing full well that is where the night is headed, you can’t help your coyness at his words. It’s hard to believe this is actually happening. Both men rise and extend hands to help your ascent, which you are more than grateful as the heady desire coursing through your veins has you feeling unsteady. They guide you to the hallway, shooting glances between one another, having one of their classic silent talks, but this time it seems more like an argument as you all stand at the point of the walkway where you have to decide which path to take to each of their rooms, knowing you will probably end up sleeping in whichever bed you land in. They attempt to make you choose, but you refuse to pick sides, both rooms are lovely and each bed equally comfortable. You just want to be with them. Minho makes the decision for you all when he drags you towards his room, just tired of trying to get two indecisive people to make a simple choice.

Minho’s room is just as you remembered, simultaneously minimal but full of little pieces that make it full of character. There's no time to look at the new photos on the mirror or trinkets on the desk before you're playfully pushed towards the bed urging you to jump on, crawling to the center in order to make room for them, expecting them to follow you. But when you turn your back to the luxe pillows, you find yourself alone in the big bed with a cheek cramping grin on your face that melts when you see them removing their shirts and tossing them to the corner before approaching the end of the mattress staring down at you. Your mouth slightly agape as you take in their tan skin and sculpted builds,

“This is so fucked up,” you strangle out of your drying throat, shaking your head in disbelief, and they just chuckle and move to join you. You sit legs outstretched in front of you, and they’re each on their knees sitting back on their ankles. They get you high on love, taking turns passing your lips back and forth, as the other plays with your hair, or rubs your shoulders, or simply lets their hands roam your torso. It is impossible to tell how long this went on, the only moments of clarity being when a gentle hand would guide you off one with a brief second for you to fill your lungs before connecting to the other. However, the makeout session is punctuated by the tug you feel on the bottom of your shirt to which to instinctively raise your arms for its removal which immediately follows, causing Jisung to groan, annoyed he had to release your lips before he was ready.

Much to your dismay, neither pair of lips return to yours once you’ve been disrobed, the men just lean back to drink in the sight, causing your skin to burn impossibly hotter, your exposed chest flaring with redness that their eyes seemingly can’t be pulled from. If this is actually going to happen, you can’t be mortified the whole time,

“I swear, if you guys keep embarrassing me, we’ll have to stop. I can’t take it,” you half confess and half warn the pair, but it doesn’t shake their gazes.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jisung offers his apology but continues defiling you with his eyes.

“We’re just as shocked as you, jagi, just let us savor it,” Minho defends their staring while lightly scolding you right back. You start to feel cold from the lack of touch, but luckily, Jisung cracks, diving into the crook of your neck licking down, across your collarbone, to the crevice between your breasts before kissing up the swells. Minho takes a different approach. He shifts his seating and leans down. He pulls the waist of your pants just enough to expose your hip bone that he gives a hard open mouthed kiss before working his way up to meet Han, worshiping your tummy and waist. They meet at your chest, quickly going to work with their hands and mouths. Jisung’s more needy palming is juxtaposed by Minho's firm, but cautious grasping, as they work in tandem to kiss every inch from the base of your neck to your shoulders to your sternum before finally landing on your sensitive buds with just the most gentle of kisses causing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding to release in a sigh. While they both had distinct styles, Jisung using wilder, sloppy strokes and Minho more direct and teasing, they were both gentle and attentive, causing your abdomen to tense, barely raising your shoulders off the cushions you rest against, and soft moans to pour from your lips.

When you compose yourself enough to look down at them, you once again find them staring at you, up through their thick lashes, pure adoration in their faces. The sight causes your head to fall back with a groan, mostly due to the absolutely errotic vision and feeling, but also partly at being tired of them being so damn perfect. Maybe you really were the pervert they imagined; this has to be some sort of hyper realistic wet dream. You have all been too consumed by lust to talk but Minho speaks up for the first time in a bit with a snarky remark,

“We can’t stop embarrassing you, if everything we do makes you embarrassed,” he chides against your velvety skin. Causing you to giggle and place your hand on his cheek and try to push him away in retribution, but he clamps down not hard enough to hurt, but when you start to push his head, it tugs on your nipple, hissing as your hand to fall limp at your side for him to continue his torture.

At your submission, he lets out a sound of satisfaction and resumes his pilgrimage back the way he came, moving back down your body, hooking his fingers in your waistbands, and you rise for him to rid you of your final pieces of clothing. Jisung’s passionate tonguing winds back down to loud kisses and then to slightly shaking his head side to side, ghosting his softly smiling lips over the bud, pulling whimpers from your swollen lips. After a quick kiss, he shuffles around, to sit amongst the pillows, slotting you between his legs. Turning your head to the side, he gives a loving kiss to your temple before wrapping his arms around you, holding you to his front and lazily kissing up and down the column of your neck and shoulder.

You between Jisung’s legs and Min between yours, the beautiful man is covering your hips and thighs with wet kisses. You gaze down and see Minho’s bunny pink lips inches from where you need him, hot breath fanning over your slick core, using his fingers to spread you, just admiring. You lean your head back to rest on Jisung’s shoulder to brace yourself for the incoming rush pleasure. As you anticipated, Min’s first probing lick already has you arching into his mouth, gasping, pushing back into the warm chest of the man behind you. All of the foreplay combined with the months of yearning have you reaching an unprecedented level of sensitivity; it won’t take much, especially with Minho’s skilled movements. He gives an arrogant huff against your cunt at the way he already has you squirming on his tongue sending delicious vibrations that only make you squirm harder. He skims his index finger up your thigh as a sign of what he is about to do, not wanting to shock you when he slides the finder inside just to the first knuckle. He slowly plunges it in and out while sucking mercilessly on your clit, drawing noises from you that will haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future.

Jisung is checking in regularly to which you always respond positively, but still Minho pumps the brakes for a brief moment to allow you to calm down a little. He moves to kissing over your silken folds before giving small, soft licks to either side of your clit, giving the perfect amount of pressure and teasing. Your eyes are screwed shut, and the breath is caught in your chest as you feel your climax barreling towards you. Pulled from you blissful rapture by Ji’s voice,

“Breathe, baby. Look at Minho; doesn’t he look so pretty?” His words alone could have made you cum, but when you peel your eyes open and raise you head to see the cat like man giving you the most seductive eyes, his nose and lips glistening in your essence, white hot pleasure explodes through your body with a flood of curses out of your lips. You lie there, panting, weak in Jiusung’s arms as he lightly drags his fingers up and down your arms and across your chest soothing your involuntary tremors. The sound of the condom wrapper being torn open reminds you of where you are. You see Minho finishing rolling on the protection on his flushed cock, and he shoots back a faux guilty look, like you’d caught him in a naughty act, he giggles before asking one last time,

“You want this?” He asks with a cheeky smirk, half confirming consent and half teasing out your desperation. You respond, over feeling bashful about your desires,

“So bad, babe,” with a grin, he grabs your hips and twists them, encouraging you to flip over on to all fours over Jisung who is smiling massive and genuinely up at you before puckering, asking for more kisses. Minho is kneading your ass probably the roughest he’d been all night, as he lines himself with your entrance. He teases you with the tip, dipping it in once, twice, and then rubbing it through your slick lips, causing you to whimper against Jisung. When he goes to enter, he takes it painfully slowly, inching in while raking his fingers down your back in a sign of affection, loving the way it makes you shiver,

“Minho you feel so—so good,” you sputter out, complimenting the way Minho makes your brain go fuzzy. He just gives a cocky hum back in response, trying to act cool, but truthfully he doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak. Your lips reconnect to Jisung’s as you reach down into his sweats to give him some well deserved attention. He lets out a long groan against your lips, bucking up into your hand. Minho’s fighting his moans, but they escape out in strangled grunts. His slow thrusts gain in speed as he grips tightly to you hips, but he remains fucking impossibly deep, leaning forward to kiss your shoulders and upper back, pushing you back to your climax. You and Jisung are trading sounds of pleasure into eachothers open mouths, pumping him in time with the thrusts, he’s lost in the pleasure, until his realizes his orgasm approaching at lightning speed, shocking him, and he begs for you to stop the twisting of your wrist,

“Please don’t make me cum. I want to fuck you so bad, please,” he's thankful when your hand flies from his cock to land on beside his head to you steady your shaking body. When he is sure your orgasm is passed, Minho frantically frees himself, ripping off the condom, and coming around to face you, kneeling, pumping himself to keep himself on the edge. Jisung shimmies out from under you allowing Minho to scoot closer looking at you with pleading eyes. You open for him and he is instantly in your mouth. You take him as far as you can, causing the saliva to build in your mouth to slick him up. You find your rhythm, occasionally focusing on the tip and swirling your tongue around it before returning to taking all of him. He is no longer holding back cries, groaning and hissing at your moves. He runs his fingers through your hair, before dragging his fingers down your cheek to caress your chin, staring down at you,

“So fucking gorgeous, feels so good,” your pattern of sucking and licking is harshly interrupted when you hear spitting and feel warm liquid slide down your cunt threatening to drip off before Hans’s flattends tongue licks a broad stripe up you slit, forcing a muffled shout to revererate from you and you to lurch forward in surprise. You lightly gag around Minho, catching you both by surprise. The motion causes Minho to paint your throat with a string of whines,

“Ah, ah, aaah—” You swallow, loving his taste. He dramatically falls to the bed with a look of pure bliss plastered on his face. He moves to you to bestow a few passionate kisses laced with gratitude to your puffy lips before rolling off the bed. You are too distracted by the euphoria flowing through you to see where he goes as Jisung is devouring you, every lick, languid but methodical, wanting to gather every last drop of your essence. It's messy and hot, and when you look down, between your legs, you not only Ji’s angry cock oozing precum, but the growing pool under you of your juices and his spit drooling off your pussy. You plea to him. You don’t want this to end, but you are so dumb on pleasure and needy, you want him inside you,

“Hannie, I need you inside, please,” but he doesn’t budge. He might be wanting to draw yet another orgasm from you, but it's more likely that he is too pussydrunk and is just hypnotized by your addictive taste and filthy sounds,

“Jisung, please,” you try again, as Minho enters again, holding waters and towels. After placing the goodies on the nightstand, he crawls back into bed beside you, admiring the salacious scene before him and your sweet sullied expression before nudging Jisung,

“Give the girl what she wants, before I do,” Ji releases your pussy with a wet pop and once again, your hips are grabbed, guiding you to flip over, this time having to aid you a bit more as your muscles are starting to give out. Jisung gives your forehead a kiss before aligning himself with your entrance, but is interrupted by the flying condom smacks him in the chest and falls to land on your stomach. He swiftly tears it open and rolls it on, embarrassed that he almost forgot, caught up in the moment as Minho shames him under his breath. Minho holds your chin to face him as Jisung slips in, watching you intently since he didn't get to see your face when he had his way with you. He holds your gaze, and when you try to close your eyes, he gently taps your cheek reminding you to return his gaze. Jisung is savagely pounding into you. He has been waiting for so long, as much as he wanted to be sensual like Minho, right now, he just couldn't hold back,

“You’re perfect, baby. Shit, i’m not gonna last,” he mumbles, thrust already getting erratic. Minho frees you when Jisung falls forward onto his forearms to cage you in, attacking your mouth with desperate kisses, the kissing shifts to just moaning and whimpering into each other as you both reach your highs, Jisung mumbling your name on repeat, looking almost as wrecked as you, giving a few final powerful thrusts before collapsing down to your other side. The room is quiet besides the heavy breathing as you all bask in the lustful aura, Min breaks the silence,

“I can speak for Jisung on this, when are the vows?” he chuckles out, causing you all to burst into breathy laughter. After cleaning up and hydrating, you all lay in bed together rolling around snuggling and kissing in the post-sex lovey state. Minho goes to the bathroom to complete his night time routine leaving you in bed with Jisung where you two giggle and take turns tracing imaginary patterns on each other's skin. When Minho returns dewy faced and in neat pajamas, Jisung leaves your side to do the same. Minho holds you tight against his side, your head resting on his chest as he hums, lips pressed into your hair. Jisung offers up some of his boxers and Minho provides a tshirt for you to sleep in, and then you too go wash up and brush your teeth and hair, trying not to get existential or horny while you stare at yourself in the mirror recounting the evening’s events.

When you return, Minho is already under the covers on his side of the bed. He’s prepped the other side for you, pulling back the covers, giving you some extra pillows, and placing your water and a snack on the nightstand, but Ji is just sitting on the edge of the bed. When you approach he stands and opens his arms for a hug,

“I wanted to wait to say goodnight,” he offers. You can't help the look of disappointment,

“We all it fine on the bed earlier, so couldn’t you just stay? Is that okay?” you ask timidly, that embarrassment you’ve been able to shove down all flooding back since the emboldening lust has been quelled. Jisung doesn’t respond, simply pulls you into a tight embrace. You guess he wasn’t okay with that suggestion, but before you could tell him that it's fine to tell you no, he is tackling you onto the bed, and pulling the duvet up over all three of you causing Minho to give an exasperated sign.

Breakfast was sure to be interesting, but as you lay curled around Jisung, his thick hair tickling your cheek with Minho pressed to your back, a strong arm slung over your waist resting on Ji’s side, the one thing you know is that you could definitely get used to this. Figuring this out was tomorrow's problem.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

pic creds x x x

A.n- Thanks for reading. This is a bit of a longer one. The longest thing I've written in fact. I just hava lot of felling about this. I hope it's not too niche/reaches the right horny nerds

-mo :)

Masterlist

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platycryptus · 1 year ago

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Recently fulfilled a years-long dream by obtaining a couple captive bred Acanthophrynus coronatus! A huge and beautiful amblypygid native to caves and forests in western Mexico.

Although they’re already quite large, these are just babies with a lot of growing to do. Adults can have bodies measuring 2” long without the appendages. They’re likely the world’s largest amblypygid species by mass, although some of their even lankier cousins in the genus Heterophrynus have a wider legspan.

In addition to their massive size and unique coloration, these guys are very active and inquisitive and have a bold attitude compared to most other amblypygids. Even as babies they often respond to potential danger by throwing up a threat display instead of freezing or running, and when they get larger they’ll be able to stridulate with their mouthparts to make a sound somewhat reminiscent of a rattlesnake.

Currently these are rare in the US bug hobby (I got them from the first person to breed them in the US), but they’re actually a very easy species to keep and breed so they should become more available soon. They make fantastic pets and display animals so my hope is they’ll become popular and inspire an increased appreciation for amblypygids.

#amblypygids #arachnids #bugs #acanthophrynus #amblypygi #bugblr #acanthophrynus coronatus #phrynidae #spiders #entomology #tarantulablr

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kqutie · 6 months ago

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EPIC: THE FAIR MAIDEN (not so platonic ver.)

CHAPTER ONE : THE SECOND MIRACLE

relations. : platonic various epic characters/reader -- platonic odysseus/reader ; polities/reader ; platonic eurylochus/reader ; platonic odysseus' crew/reader

chpt. sum. : you settle down for a game of animal crossing but faint and wake up in the EPIC: The Musical universe.

tags. : EPIC x ACNH ; reader is a comfort gamer ; female reader ; pure comfort ; reader helps ody get home ; happy ending for everyone! ; isekai and transmigration ; fix it fic ; animal crossing new horizons game mechanics ; characters know their future

length. : 5.5k

a/n : this is very unserious but is meant to be pure comfort. This is also pretty self-indulgent and is the result of my current obsession with EPIC: The Musical. I'm sad it's over but am happy to add to the fandom and make a place for myself in it (❀' ˘ '❀) I hope you darlings have a fun time reading!

navi. | series m.list

Pulling away from your phone, you sigh in content and stretch. EPIC: The Musical had become an obsession of yours and now that it was complete, you were delving into fanmade content; a mix of animatics, fanart and fanfiction. You had just finished reading a fanfic of the characters reacting to their future via the musical before it ever happens. The final chapter ends with all the characters returning to their original places in the universe, eager to avoid the mistakes they have just witnessed leading to their demise and Odysseus' change from man to monster.

Before they could be sent back, Odysseus took a moment to lovingly bid his beloved Penelope and only son, Telemachus goodbye while the gods pledge not to interfere with his journey home as long as he doesn't make the same mistakes. If they should encounter each other again, they will not be courteous and everything will unfold as it had been told to them in the musical.

The ending left you with a feeling of hope. In the universe of that fanfic, Odysseus will know what to do for a brighter future and you have full confidence in him fulfilling that – he is the warrior of the mind, after all.

It was still rather cold outside and leading into the evening, you were eager to bundle up in your giant beanbag chair with a blanket to play your favourite comfort game: Animal Crossing: New Horizons. First things first, however, you float into the kitchen to brew some tea and prepare a small plate of snacks. You have a lot of plans for your gaming session tonight. Your island was going under a huge revamp. For your new aesthetic, you're leaning into a cottage-core theme, something rustic with flourishing wildlife, trees, flowers and beaten paths. You were going to miss your fun, rural town island but you're very excited about the cosy vibes a countryside theme would bring. You're sure the change will only elevate the cosiness of the game.

It was going to be a huge undertaking but you've paid all your loans, gathered all the recipes, furniture and miscellaneous items, played the DLC, unlocked everything there is to unlock, collected all the fish, bugs and art to display in the museum, and you have an island full of villagers you adore. Revamping the island is the most exciting thing you can do now that you've played the game to the fullest. Hence why you were preparing your favourite snacks to have with your best blend of tea. Even though you've technically 'completed' the game, you're still eager to play it over and over again.

When you were finally curled up in your huge beanbag, wrapped in your fluffiest blanket with your tea and snacks on the side table, all you had left to do was put something on in the background; naturally, you chose the 'EPIC' soundtrack. You were obsessed.

Hopping into your island, you begin by erasing all your previous terraforming and rearranging your rivers and lakes. Everything you wanted to include had been planned out beforehand, all your new island decorative pieces were ready in your storage and you had your iPad with your mood board and notes showcasing your detailed plans at your side as well. Everything was going as planned. Your character was also wearing the perfect custom-designed dress for the occasion. It's a long, flowing white sundress with blue accents that you've paired with the cutest white platform heels. It always makes you giggle to see your character wearing the construction hat with such a cute dress — it adds so much charm.

As 'Polyphemus' begins to play, you shudder and press your lips into a thin line. This is the point where everything begins to change for Odysseus and your heart drops every time. However, you're reminded of the recent fanfic you read and hope the author takes the time to write a follow-up where the characters change their fates for the better. You adore them all so much; you want everyone to have their happy endings, especially Odysseus.

Focusing back on your island, you're finally happy with the layout and bring out your wooden shed to begin decorating, pulling things directly from your storage. However, where the storage menu should be showing, there's only a black screen.

"What's happening?" you ask yourself and press the buttons of your Nintendo switch randomly, confused at the suddenly unresponsive screen, "I thought this was fully charged...?" just as you begin to manoeuvre out of your curled-up seating, a sudden lightheadedness washes over you, making your eyes squint in confusion before you're finally pulled into the same darkness as your screen.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Odysseus etches the image of his wife and son's faces into the forefront of his mind. They've been his anchor throughout the ten-year war with Troy and now that they've won and are on their way back home, he needs them more than anything —especially now that he knows the potential future ahead. Determined to avoid such anguish, Odysseus, commands his entire fleet to avoid following the birds despite their dwindling food stores. Having also witnessed their potential future, his men readily oblige.

It was comforting to see that his bond with the crew had not suffered in the aftermath of the blessing they were witnesses to. Rather, they were moved by his struggles and his vengeance against Posideon, honouring every member with six hundred strikes. Their captain had made a god bleed for them, they dare not betray such a man. The musical was a moving epic that gave them the exact map to avoid if they wanted to reach home safely.

"I'll make it home soon, I promise," Odysseus promised his loving wife, remembering the love and worry in her beautiful eyes. They were the same eyes he had fallen for, soaked in a familiar affection that only seemed to grow after witnessing their potential future. Nothing had changed. She still loved him and that was a huge comfort.

"I know... I love you," he replies with a searing kiss, desperate and messy after ten years apart. Pulling away, he looks fondly at his son who looks at him with admiration and love thinly veiled by worry. Looking at Telemachus felt like looking into a mirror, all except for the eyes he shared with his mother. His son had the same head of wild hair as his own, the same strong nose and straight brows as his own.

"I don't want you to go yet..." there were unshed tears in his son's quiet plea and Odysseus had to pull his ten-year-old son into a bone-crushing hug.

"I won't be long. I know what to do now. I'll get home soon," Odysseus promises into his son's crown and presses a firm kiss through his brown curls. Pulling away, he stares fondly into Telemachus' eyes, his beautiful son. Had he ever seen a boy so perfect before? Only his wife could create such beauty and perfection, "Take care of your mother while I'm away,"

Telemachus launches himself into his father's arms once again, burying his face into his strong shoulder, "Always, father,"

That final interaction has been replaying in Odysseus' mind ever since he returned to the boat he and his crew had suddenly been swept away from. It felt like so much time had passed but they were returned to the exact location and time they were first taken from. What an experience that had been. A blessing and a curse all at once. To bear witness to such a horrific future was harrowing but Odysseus would take it as a lesson learned. He won't risk the life of his best friends nor his crew ever again. They had survived the war against Troy, all 600 of them; they should be able to return home unharmed.

"Odysseus, my friend," Polites' familiar voice calls to him, bright and merry but with a heavy weight upon it. He understands the reason without needing to ask.

"Polities," they greet each other with a smile, "I know you're worried about our stores but we can survive without them until we find another island," Polities doesn't protest but nods in understanding. There's a pause that stretches on but not in discomfort. The two merely absorb the moment, comforted by the knowledge that they have avoided a massive turning point in their journey.

"We are here for you, my friend. All I wanted was to make that clear," Polites looks at the crew rowing at the paddles, keeping a leisurely pace. "We are loyal to you, our captain, who has led us to victory after ten years," Odysseus smiles and nods demurely at his best friend in silent appreciation, "that future has not happened yet, nor will it ever happen. I know that you will make sure of that."

"If the crew should ever act up, we will be there," Eurylachous steps up to the two of them with a somewhat hesitant air, his posture stiff. Events of the mutiny he led against his brother-in-law and friend had not been able to leave his mind ever since his first viewing. The tall second commander shudders to think of himself ever becoming the shrivelled-up, hungry, desperate and vengeful man who dared go against the captain he had first betrayed by opening the windbag. He was determined to avoid such a fate. What a sorry fool he had turned out to be. It was unbecoming and he had since been congested with guilt.

Odysseus and Eurylochus silently take in the other. Eurylachous with a boulder of guilt in the pit of his stomach as Odysseus wears an unreadable expression. They were supposed to be brothers, friends, comrades. The people they had become in that future were not them now, and it will never be them. Ctimene's face appears in his mind. They share a similar goal; to return home, to the wives they adore and had fought the grueling war for.

The tension is broken by Odysseus who brings his arms up to wrap around their shoulders and pull them close, "Thank you, my friends," All three share a smile and savour the bond they share. It was one they valued all the more now that they knew of their potential fates, and it was a bond they were unwilling to sever. If they could make it out of Troy victorious after ten years of conflict, they could easily protect each other and the friendship they share. "We will make it home. I swear it."

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

It had been several days and yet, there was no island on the horizon, meaning no food to hunt and feed his men. Odysseus' mind was reeling. This cannot be. Surely there would be some kind of island they could set anchor nearby. After taking the proper steps to avoid the worst future they could possibly think of, had Odysseus inadvertently condemned his men to a much more painful and agonising fate? Slowly, his men across all 12 ships had stopped rowing; they no longer had the energy. And the winds were close to nonexistent, providing no aide to his fleet's sails. Should they have docked at the Cyclops' island anyway but made a proper plan to steal the sheep instead? But that was too high of a risk, and everyone agreed that it was not worth it. What tragic luck was this? Was his crew doomed to never return home alive with him as their captain? Was the miracle they were blessed with a waste, now that he had given the wrong command?

A headache begins to hammer at his temples and Odysseus groans, the rumbling in his stomach and the painful ache rippling from it was unquenchable. The image of his hauntingly starved self and crew flashes in his mind. The world seemed determined to make him suffer, though there was no god to blame; he had given the command to avoid the Cyclops' island altogether — this was his fault.

"Captain!" Elpenor's— their youngest crew member —shout brings him out of his spiralling thoughts and directs his, as well as everyone's attention to a wooden structure that had suddenly appeared on their boat.

"What is that?"

"This wasn't in that musical,"

"How did it get on our ship?"

Looking around, it appears as though this was unique to their ship only as none of the other 11 ships were causing the same chaotic murmuring as the one Odysseus was aboard. Of course. It had to be the captain's ship this strange phenomenon occurs on.

"It has a door, should we look inside?" Polites comments, reaching for the handle only to be stopped by Odysseus.

"Let me open it," he turns to everyone else and loudly commands that they step back and prepare for what may come from opening the door. After taking a slow breath in and slowly releasing, Odysseus finally flings the door back and jumps to the side as a body falls in a heap at his feet.

The crowd circle the figure and are shocked to find a woman. She looks foreign with clothes they have never seen before. Where had she come from? Odysseus looks back at the slim wooden structure to find it already closed. Polites was the first to kneel beside her, cradling her head and gently urging the strange woman awake.

"Polites, step away from her!" Odysseus commands as Eurylochus unsheaths his large sword and prepares for a potential threat.

"She looks harmless, Captain,"

"That's no excuse to let your guard down," Odysseus snaps, flashes of another dark future playing in his mind. Had avoiding one grizzly fate led to another, darker one?

Polities gives him a judging look, "Open arms, Captain," his best friend wasn't getting the point. Although Odysseus was appreciative of his friend's boundless optimism, he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Just keep your distance, we don't know how much of a threat she is until she's awake. And if she is a threat, you'll be the first in her way of attack!" Odysseus' words don't even allow a single drop of doubt to taint Polites' determined stare.

"Wait look! She's waking up!" Eurylochus points his sword and gets into a familiar, battle stance, ready to pounce.

"Polities! Get. Back!"

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Groaning, you turn away from the harsh lighting shining down on you and nuzzle into a comforting warmth.

"It's alright, Captain," a distant voice assures, the shouting that follows only pushing you into the comfortable warmth further, unknowing of the effect your innocent action has on the individual currently holding your head in his lap. "She means no harm," you then feel gentle pats over your head as the same kind voice urges you awake, "Hey there... can you wake up for us?"

Propelled to respect the kind and gentle stranger's request, you brave against the harsh sun and will your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you adjust to the world around you as you're helped to a sitting position. You part your lips to ask what's going on but no sound comes out and your confusion is evident on your face.

"Hi there," a warm face greets you, pushing away the confusion and worry at your sudden muteness. Gazing at the man before you, you can't help but lean in with interest. His face feels familiar and you're drawn to the curiosity of it. He wears square glasses and adorns rich, chestnut curls that fall over a headband. His skin is sunkissed and a little sunken into his angular bone structure, which makes you worry slightly, he doesn't look healthy at all. He looks starved. "Uhh.." Polites smiles shyly as you reach up to cup his cheek with furrowed brows, "My name is Polites, can you tell us who you are, fair maiden?"

You finally register the murmurs surrounding you and mutely gasp when you realise you're surrounded by a circle of men, dressed in clothes typical of ancient Greek times. Everyone had the same sunken, unhealthy appearance as Polites. What was happening?

"My friend asked you a question. Answer him at once!" a cold metal touches the underside of your chin and you're forced to look up the body of a large sword and into the eyes of another recognisable figure. Eurylochus.

This can't be...

Shaking your head in disbelief and denial of the situation, you fall back into Polites' arms, who sternly waves away his dark-skinned friend. "Sheath your sword, friend, she means no harm..." Polites' arms circle you but he doesn't pull you further into him, leaving space for breath between your body and his own. It was more comforting than you anticipated as you press your face into his shoulder, trying to deny the reality you were in right now. "Captain, Odysseus, please,"

A sigh draws your attention away from Polites' shoulder and towards a broad-shouldered man with bronze skin, dark, wavy hair and an imposing air of confidence and charm about him. Distinguishing him from the rest, he wears a purple cloak that's secured with a gold pin on his shoulder; he's the captain. Odysseus. Are you in the EPIC: The Musical Universe? Is this a dream?

"...if she meant to do harm, she would have done so already. Sheath your sword, friend," Odysseus nods towards Eurylochus' sword.

"Yes Captain," the second in command readily complies.

Finally breathing in relief, you turn back to Polites and take his hand into both of yours to shake happily in greeting. The solid feeling on his hand makes this feel less and less like a dream, which makes you all the happier that they don't see you as a threat anymore. Otherwise, you would have become fish food. However, dream or reality, you were going to live this to the fullest as an EPIC fan. Your actions make the crowd release the tension in their shoulders. A handshake is a sign of peace and shows the absence of a weapon in one's hands; Polites was right to believe in your innocence.

"Haha! See, Captain?" Polites smiles at Odysseus, who shakes his head in disbelief but smiles regardless. Trust Polites, to make such quick friends, "May we know your name?" Polites asks after returning his attention to you. Frowning sadly, you shake your head and tap against your throat. You go as far as to part your lips and attempt to speak but nothing comes out. "Can you... can you not talk?"

You shake your head in confirmation and miss the sadness shared between the men surrounding you both. "How should we address you then?" Odysseus asks aloud and you shrug your shoulders. You don't really mind how they refer to you, so long as it wasn't hurtful.

"As long as it's of no offence to you, can we call you by any name?" Polites asks, to which you readily nod and he smiles before thinking deeply, "How about we refer to you as fair maiden? It's simple and you're the only maiden here so, everyone will easily know it's you," without complaints, you nod and hear a murmur of the nickname amongst the group make its rounds; the crew testing the name for themselves. It makes you smile shyly. Although you love the main characters, you always adored the background vocals of the crew and to hear their murmurings was a little flustering.

"How did you get here? Do you know?" Odysseus takes a knee beside you and you try not to look visibly awestruck by the closeness, "You fell out of that thing," the captain points towards a familiar, slim wooden shed. It looks exactly like the shed you failed to access the contents of before you blacked out on Animal Crossing. Curiously, you stand and make your way over to the shed, the crowd parting and staring with interest as you do so.

Opening the door, a familiar storage menu screen finally reveals itself to you. And it's full to the brim with all of your collected items from Animal Crossing. From the curious but unruffled looks in the crowd surrounding you, it doesn't seem as though they can see the storage screen and you immediately close the shed door to shake your head 'no' at Odysseus, who looks disappointed but has no choice but the accept the unsatisfactory news. However, his expression lightens when his eyes drift upwards.

The Captain turns to his men and sends them to their stations at the oars, "Follow those birds, no matter how far they may lead us, it will be towards land. We have another mouth to feed so full speed ahead!" his words make your eyes widen and rush forward with your arms outstretched, waving your hands side to side and shaking your head — a clear expression against his command. In the distance, you can tell that Odysseus' fleet is still composed of its full 12 ships so he will be leading them to Polyphemus' island, where everything will take a turn for the worst and you don't think you're capable of going through such horrors first hand.

Odysseus narrows his eyes at you, "What do you mean 'no'?" he pauses for thought, "...do you know about the Cyclops too?" you're shocked at his words. How could he know about the Cyclops if he has yet to set foot on the island? And if he's already done so, why was Polites still alive?

You nod slowly. You do know about the Cyclops...

"We're long past the Cyclops' island, days past it, in fact," he looks at you with caution, "...how do you know about the Cyclops?" Naturally, being unable to speak, you can't explain your circumstances articulately but that was no longer satisfactory for the captain. Odysseus looks you up and down, taking in the unusual attire clothing you. It doesn't look like any garments he has ever seen before. It's a beautiful garment he would love to see on his wife but its unfamiliar style raises his suspicions, "What are you doing here? Are you another test from the gods? They promised not to interfere with my journey home unless I make the same mistakes as in that musical's future!" your eyes widen at his words and you make the slow realisation that you're not only in the universe of EPIC but specifically in the aftermath of the reaction fanfic you had just finished reading. You remember hoping the author would continue with a series that has the characters taking active steps to avoid their tragic fates.

The hostility being raised against you, from the Captain, no less, didn't bode well, however, so you rush back to your shed. You don't know why you have your animal crossing storage shed but you were going to use it. It may be your only way of expressing your peacefulness without a voice.

Opening the storage once more, you search through the categorised panels and select a basket of bread with your finger. The instant it's selected, the basket of freshly baked bread appears in your arms and you turn to Odysseus with a smile, outstretching the offering as a token of your peaceful intentions.

Odysseus stares at your offering of bread with a dropped jaw, similar to the one Eurylochus was displaying. How could you have been able to store freshly baked bread in such an innocuous structure? It was Polites who jumped forward with a shout of glee, "Fresh bread! My friends, look!" His words draw the attention of the crew from where they're actively rowing the oars. The sight of food makes them stop and slowly approach with grumbling stomachs, eyes wide and mouths watering. The closer they get, the more potent the smell of fresh bread becomes and there's a chorus of grumbling stomachs surrounding you. "Is this for us?" Polites looks at you with a smile that widens when you nod in affirmation.

"Wait! You take the first bite," Eurylochus insists, cautious after witnessing their encounter with Circe. The rest of the crew heed his words and reel back as if subjected to an electric shock. They had almost forgotten the cautionary tale of the musical. Everyone now watches you with judging eyes. Taking no offence, you select a small bun and bite into it with a grin. Everyone around you watches with bated breath but cheers when you swallow and there are no negative side effects. Food! Finally!

"Thank you," Polites nods at you with a grateful smile before distributing the basket to the crew members. Behind him, Odysseus is left speechless but soon meets your eyes with a similarly grateful expression. He and Eurylochous nod in thanks, which you bow in return to. The tension between you had fully evaporated. The crew do their best to evenly ration out the bread but a singular basket won't be enough so you return to your storage shed and bring out more baskets of bread that you have saved up, grateful that cooking recipes was one of your favourite things to do on the game.

"You have more food?" Odysseus voices beside you, suddenly very close and you nod with a bright smile, handing him another basket of fresh, warm bread. It appears as though, no matter how long it's been since you've cooked the recipe, it comes out fresh and warm. You have five baskets of fresh bread circulating amongst the crew now and see if other recipes also come out freshly cooked. With a silent hum, you select the minestrone soup and out comes a deep ceramic bowl with hot, appetising soup filling it to the brim. Like in the game, the portion looks enormous in your hands and looks capable of feeding more than one person. This will go perfectly with the bread and you leave your shed to hand the bowl of soup to a small circle of men sharing a bread basket. They're in awe of your offering and thank you endlessly, eagerly dipping their bread into the soup and savouring the delicious taste of food after days without. With a wide smile, you turn around and reach for Polites, who happily follows you back to your shed to help distribute more bowls of soup.

"How does that thing work?" Eurylochus reaches out to the shed once all the food has been distributed but you quickly block his way and shake your head. Suddenly tense, Eurylochus nods and firmly turns away, his hand safely back at his side, "Understood..." This wasn't a windbag but he wasn't going to make the same, silly mistake as he did in that musical. Never. He's just happy the crew and himself finally have some food to eat, the birds and a distant island without a Cyclops long forgotten.

"Thank you for your help," Odysseus walks up to you with a charming grin that you happily return, a warmth blooming in your chest at being able to help one of your favourite characters get home. Your easygoing, happy nature is very reminiscent of Polites and the Captain finds himself an easy victim to your warm and comforting presence, willing to follow your optimistic nature. Looking back at his smiling, feasting crew, he breathes a sigh of relief and bites into a round loaf he managed to take for himself as the bread baskets made their rounds. "Do you happen to have more food?" he suddenly asks, nervous of your response. "I have 550 more men to feed across eleven other boats," he tilts his head towards the rest of his fleet, closely following his ship. Odysseus was ashamed to ask so much from one person but felt an immense feeling of relief when he turned to see your kind smile and warm gaze. It's as if you were saying 'Of course, I do', eager to offer your help.

"You have more food, fair maiden?" Polites cheers, eagerly volunteering to help escort you onto the other ships for a delivery of food.

You shake your head but hold up a finger, wordlessly asking them to wait patiently. The 50 men of this boat had eaten all of the bread and soup you had stored so you had to make more from the crops and ingredients you had stored. All you needed to do was bring out your small kitchenette. Hopefully, game mechanics still apply when cooking and you'll have enough food to feed the 550 hungry men left of Odysseus' fleet. Returning to your storage, you easily bring out your kitchenette and follow the recipe for making more bread baskets and minestrone soup. It was easy enough, especially after realising that all you needed to access your personal storage without the shed was to think of it and it would readily appear for your eyes only.

While you were hard at work making more bread baskets and soup, you urged Polites, Eurylochus and Odysseus to sit down and eat calmly. They had been watching you the entire time, jaws dropped in awe and eyes gleaming with admiration, their hearts beating with hope and almost brought to tears at being given yet another miracle. They were going to make it home after all!

It took some time to make the first few baskets and soups for about five ships but, by that time the crew had already devoured their share and all eyes were back on you. Feeling shy, you convince them to focus their attention elsewhere by offering dessert via oranges. From living in the modern world, you know all about scurvy so oranges are the perfect fruit to offer; you make a mental note of bringing some oranges with you to the other ships too. The crew were delighted and eagerly devoured the abnormally large oranges you handed them. They were the perfect sweetness and were so juicy, that many who finished their share were left licking the juice from their fingers. They feel thoroughly fed, and, although it was a mere helping of bread, soup and orange, it felt like a feast fit for a king. Odysseus attested to that sentiment.

"Is she a descendant of the Goddess of Harvest? The Goddess Demeter?"

"She must be,"

"No, she was sent to us as a divine intervention. She must have been sent by Hermes."

"But look at the orange she gave us, it's the biggest, most delicious and perfect orange I have ever seen. She must be a descendant of the God of orchards and fruit, Dionysus."

"We are lucky to have her, she must have been sent by the Goddess Tyche of luck."

Many of the crew members begin to speculate your origins, with some raising their voices above the others, their words coming out more clearly. But you were none of those things. You can't even begin to explain how you got here and it isn't as though you could even attempt to voice any kind of explanation. It's quite flattering that they think so highly of you— enough to relate you to the gods and goddesses —but if any good person was capable of offering help then they would do so without regard for what it may cost them. And that was what you were doing. You were only doing what any good person would do. It's just your luck that you happen to have the same skills and itinerary as your ACNH character. The only unfortunate thing is that you were made mute because of it too –at least most seem to understand what you want to say by paying attention to your actions and movements, much like your villagers.

To distract from their high-praising musings, however, you get busy cooking enough food for the 550 other men left to feed, quickly filling up your personal storage after you had emptied it of the decorative pieces you originally wanted to dot around your revamped island. Once finally done, you turn to Odysseus and nod. The captain smiles widely, brushes away the orange juice from his chin and calls for a flag to be raised, signalling for the rest of his fleet to fall in line with his so that you could be escorted safely to deliver food.

"Polites and Eurylochus will escort you. They will also explain your presence to the rest of my men." Odysseus explains as you nod along and gently express that your shed doesn't need to be brought with you. Again, Eurylochus nods and backs away, calling for two men to guard the shed while they make the food delivery. In the distance, you watch the boats easily line up and a wooden plank is provided to bridge the distance between two ships. Just as you are being led away by Polites. Odysseus calls out to you, "Fair maiden," he bows at the waist, the rest of the crew following close after, bowing deeply and sincerely, "Thank you,"

When the crew and Odysseus finally look up, they are greeted by your bright, close-eyed smile and the faint outline of pink and yellow flowers in the air surrounding your face. You're a beauty, a kind embodiment of mercy bestowed upon them in their hour of need and they dare not take you for granted.

navi. | series m.list

next | two : the favourable circumstance

a/n : I hope you darlings enjoyed the read! I'm leaving this small passion project open to continuation as I do have more plans for it (Perimedes and Elpenor will make an appearance in the next chapter, for sure!) but nothing is set for how many chapters that would entail. This series will probably be pretty short but will definitely end happily ٩(^ᗜ^ )و '-

Please feel free to tell me your thoughts and what you may want to see happen. Who knows, I might be inspired to include your own daydreams ヾ(｡✪ω✪｡)ｼ

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic the musical fanart #epic odysseus #epic polites #epic eurylochus #isekai au #acnh au #reader insert #female reader #epic the musical x you

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xazse · 1 year ago

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SUGURU AND SATORU MEETING A CURSED HYBIRD PUPPY!GIRL 😭😭

Tags: Fem!PuppyReader, Hybrid!Reader, Licking, petting, Cursed!Reader, Female reader, the licking isn’t sexual.

PART 2

“Suguru.”

“No”

“Sugruuuuu…”

“Nope”

“Please, please”

“No Satoru, she needs to be exorcized” Suguru quite frankly was sick of this back and forth they’d been doing for the past five minutes, they were sent on a mission to come dispose of a curse that had been bugging the village for a while. After killing the huge thing there were still traces of cursed energy, following the trail led them to this predictable right now. Hiding behind an abandoned house was you: a curse? But some type of Hybrid dog thing? Puppy thing? You looked around their age, human body but what was off about you was your fluffy ears and equally fluffy tail.

But regardless you were still a curse that needed to be killed, Satoru clearly wasn’t seeing that, here he is huddled on the dirty ground with you in his lap, licking at his face whilst giggles fall from his lips. You were far too friendly to be some normal curse, definitely an abnormality, something they should also be reporting to principal Yaga and the higher-ups.

Satoru has a tight hold on your waist, not letting you go but you seem too eager to bury yourself deeper in his hold, he’s cooing at how cute you are, how pretty you look, and how he just wants to “eat you up” Suguru damn near wants to slap some sense into him. Your attire consists of a thin nightgown that stops at your thighs, probably something you found?

“Oh I’m definitely keeping you” Satoru says, “no you definitely aren’t, if I’m saying it’s not possible what makes you think Yaga is?” Suguru shifts his gaze to you who’s staring right back at him. “Don’t listen to him he’s just a big grumpy meanie!” Satoru starts to rub and mess with your tail, instantly your eyes are back on him and so is your tongue, licking all over his face again.

“Stop letting her do that, it’s gross.”

“Suguru just look at her, isn’t she just so darn cute though?” Satoru grabs your cheeks and pinches them together while forcefully turning your head towards his companion. You look at Suguru once again, he genuinely thinks you look a little dumb? Is that even possible? A little line of drool is currently on display with your mouth open. Satoru stands up at his full height and a slight whine can be heard from you.

“Don’t worry I’m not leaving” Satoru helps you stand up and you’re instantly clinging to him again, you can’t reach and lick his face again so you take to cuddling into his chest, smooshing your head all over. He uses a hand to rub at your ears while cooing at you again.

Suguru’s phone rings and the called ID reads Principal. “That’s Yaga, Satoru, we should be leaving now.” Satoru looks at Suguru with puppy eyes, fake tears decorating his lash lines. Suguru visibly sighs out loud before speaking: “listen we won’t exorcize her, but we do have to leave okay?”

They do end up leaving you, a confused look on your face as you clutch onto Satoru’s clothes and attempt to follow them , he gently grabs ahold of your hands and disengages them from his shirt, he feels so bad for leaving you, already had felt a connection with you even with a short time frame.

#zsworks #fem reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk angst #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x female reader #geto x female reader #hybrid reader

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lostinlovingrevery · 6 months ago

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Skinny Dipping (18+ Only!)

Logan X F!Reader

Plot: You're bored, and you decided to go bug Logan on a hot day

A/N: I actually had this idea in my head FOREVER. This is the first time writing smut, so pls forgive for any inaccuracies. I actually had fun with it! but I feel I still need some work on describing a scene with so much movement happening. You could technically imagine any Logan, but I pictured the X! movies Logan. Comments/critiques welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: Friends-to-Lovers type style, Smut, Unprotected PiV, slight voyeurism, nudity, sex in a lake (watch out for STIs!), it's sorta dubious consent but readers been horny for him for awhile and very eagerly accepts it. Not proofread and I also wrote this in one go.

Word Count: 2996

It was an unusually hot spring day at Xavier's School for the Gifted. The air held a certain dryness that was usually felt in deep July, and the sun was annoyingly bright. It was Saturday, most of the students had gone home to be with their parents, and the ones that stayed here were taken on a field trip by the other professors to a local planetarium. You had some work to finish up, so you stayed behind in your study. It was just you, and Mr.No-Fun Wolverine, who didn’t go either because he didn’t feel like babysitting.

You were tired of having sat in your study most of the morning. You were almost done with your work and figured you could finish it up in the evening or on Sunday. It was one of the most rare moments you ever had in school- time alone.

Except you weren’t planning to spend it alone.

You left behind your study, your work, to hunt down Logan. Something had crawled in your bones and urged you to go annoy the hell out of him. Your favorite activity. Despite it being a huge mansion, it wasn’t hard to find him- sitting in the living room, watching some old movie you’d probably seen before but couldn’t really care about to remember the name of. What you focused on was the swirl of smoke coming from his hand.

“Y’know, you aren’t supposed to be smoking in here.” Your voice made him turn his head, giving you a side glance, just to acknowledge you. He purely grunted in response, turning his head back to the tv as he took another long- almost as if he was being obnoxious- puff of his cigar. You walked around the couch to face the front of him, and his eyes tracked you, as he took his time blowing the smoke past his lips, another obnoxious move to rub in your face that he just didn’t care. He leaned back on the couch, spreading his legs in some kind of display of dominance that didn’t really deter you from backing down. It merely just turned you on.

“Ain’t no one here to complain bub.” He finally says, eyes leaving you and turning back to the tv. You weren’t going to take that though. You moved to step in front of the tv, blocking his view. You crossed your arms.

“I’m here.” You challenged yourself. “It stinks Logan. Seriously.”

“I’ll light a candle.”

“That’ll just make it worse.”

He shrugged, showing you he didn’t consider it his problem. “You’re blocking my light doll.” He mutters. You kept your spot, arms still crossed, and eyebrow quirked upwards as if questioning if he was going to do anything about it. He looked at you, and finally he gave in, leaning forward, he stubbed the cigar out on the ashtray that he likely had stashed in his room and brought out here, looking at you with his brow drawn together and his lips pursed together in displeasure. You actually could have cared less if he smoked, the stench of cigars had become a welcome smell- because that’s what he smelled like and it had grown comforting to you. Like you felt earlier- you just wanted to annoy him. You could never actually do that though, because he was too fond of you to ever actually be annoyed with you in any shape or form.

You and Logan were close. You were the only person who challenged him when he’d forget his manners and become rough around the edges. You’ve kept him in check since he’s come to the school. You also were the only person who’s truly taken the time to get to know him. You saw beneath the rough exterior, the raised hackles, and the bared fangs- something everyone else saw as aggression, you saw it as self-defense. You broke through his stone-like exterior, his foolhardy confidence, and his flirty way of pushing people away, and found a man who simply was lost in the world, lost in who he was. You found him to be intelligent, compassionate and has a great penchant for being a sweetheart if you just gave him time. To put it simply, you loved him to pieces, for the man he is. He, on the other hand, has been too damn stubborn to let himself experience any joy of being loved and cared for. You knew he felt the same though, you saw the way his eyes would lighten up when he saw you in the kitchen in the mornings, how he would relax when you’d join the X-men meetings and sit next to him, the gentle way he’d touch your shoulder or hand- as if afraid he was going to hurt you. Whatever it was you guys had going on between you, it was being completely unspoken and frankly you were growing impatient. At first, you believed that Logan simply needed time to adjust- then he would make a move. Now though, you think it’s you that needs to make the move. Logan has an incredible ability to be self-destructive and shut himself out from the world. Even if you see the yearning he has in his eyes in front of you right now, you’re not sure he’d ever do anything, purely for the sake that he believes you deserve better.

You know what you want though, and by God you’re going to get it.

Logan, has met his match in someone equally as bull-headed as he is.

“Thank you.” You say dropping your arms to your side, and moving away from the tv. You walked over to him, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Let's go for a walk.”

“It’s hot outside bub.” He pulled his arm back, making you groan dramatically.

“I’ve been cooped up all morning. I wanna go take a hike by the lake.” You say grabbing his hand again, this time succeeding in pulling him off the couch. You knew you’d never be able to actually lift him- as heavy as he is- but he’d just hate to see you struggle. You smiled at him victoriously as he rolled his eyes and sighed just as dramatic as your groan.

“Fine.” He mutters. He can say no to you once. Twice though? How could he when he’s looking straight into your pretty little eyes, looking so pleadingly at him.

You did a little dance in victory, a small wiggle of your hips- his eyes couldn’t help catch sight of, as you held onto his hand and pulled him with you as you made your way to the front door, outside in the heat, and down the familiar path that you’ve walked with Logan plenty of times before- whenever either of you just needed to get out together, and talk, towards the lake somewhere on the estate of the school.

Your walk had started out silent, side by side, your hands brushing against each other. If it wasn’t so hot, you’d actually be clinging to him- you’d hook your arm around his, you’d lean your side against him- he didn’t mind, he was tall and sturdy, and the weight of you pressed against him was grounding. Now though, even though you urged to be near him, the hot sun pushed a space between you.

Half way on the walk, that’s when you started complaining. “Ugh, it’s WAY too hot for April.”

“Told ya.” he mutters. He glanced at you, and you were tugging on the hem of your neckline, pulling back and forth to allow some air, showing the cleavage of your breast, enough to make him get some dirty thoughts. Something something- licking the sweat off your skin… His eyes darted away from you.

There was tension building between you both. Something that had been building a long time, you- you didn’t like leaving things unresolved.

Reaching the lake, you both slowed your pace to enjoy the scenery and the nature around there. Logan wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed these walks with you. He enjoyed the ones that were filled with comfortable silence, and the ones where you both couldn’t stop talking, it was rare to get him into a conversation, but you had a way of drawing it out of him. You’d talk about everything from politics, religion, his history, your history, the universe, how bad Scott and Jean's cooking was.

This walk would be no different, if it wasn’t for your complaining.

“I told you it was hot.” He states again, “But you wanted to go out.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to stretch my legs, get some fresh air.” You say, glancing at the lake. It looked cool, refreshing. That’s when you get an idea.

“There’s a whole mansion full of stuff to do-” He says as he keeps walking, He picks up that you stopped, no longer next to him anymore, “Bub?” He turned around, his face dropping as he watched you shed your last item of clothing, and began to run into the water. Once you were up to your knees, you dived in- creating a splash of water that sent waves rippling towards the shore where he stood. His eyes trailed over to where you left your clothes behind, and blood rushed straight down, stirring his cock.

You popped your head up above the water, your location now deeper into the lake, having to kick your legs to keep you afloat, and you waved at him. He swallowed, as he pictured your naked form- having only gotten a glance of it before you disappeared into the water. His cock throbbed in the confines of his jeans.

Fuck it

He thought to himself, as he moved to shed his own clothes. You had turned around, swimming small laps in circles, dipping your head underwater to refresh yourself, feeling the inner temperature of your body cooling off. You didn’t notice him taking his clothes off- you somehow didn’t hear him over your splashing as he quietly swam towards you.

So when his arm came around your waist, turning you and pulling you against him, you shrieked at first. Only to gasp as your breasts came pressed against his chest, the feeling of his coarse hair stimulating your nipples that had become hard from the cold of the water. He barely gave you a chance to catch up to what was happening as his lips crashed down onto yours, making you moan as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You relaxed your legs from kicking, able to rely on Logan who’s already so freakishly tall, was still standing as the water lapped at his shoulders. You marveled at the feeling of his muscled body against yours, his strong arms wrapped around you, god you spent forever imaging him like this.

He nipped at your lips, moving down into your jaw, sucking and biting at the skin there, while his hands ran up and down over your body. One hand pressed to your lower back, the other ran up your thigh, warming your skin that had grown cold from the water temperature, he pressed the hand under your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his hips- which you eagerly obliged. He groaned,

“You’re gonna be the death of me, bub-” He muttered as he pressed kisses down your neck, “Being a fucking tease like that. You were planning this the entire time weren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, not responding to his question, as his beard delightfully scratched at the skin of your collarbone. You brought your hands up into his hair, running it through the wet strands and scratching at his scalp gently- making him moan in response. You tipped your head back and raised your hips, softly grinding against his lower abdomen, really also urging him to put his lips on your chest. His mouth sucked and licked the skin of your breast, his hand coming up to fondle and squeeze the nipple of the other, as he twirled his tongue over one, making you moan- a warm, syrupy honey feeling sat in the bottom of your stomach- but it wasn’t enough.

“Logan-” You whined, your hands tightening through his hair.

“I know, I got you baby.” He murmured against your skin, right over the place where your heart is located. Adjusting the both of you, he brought his lips back to yours, pressing a few small pecks against them, as he ran his throbbing member between your folds, making you gasp at the sheer size of him.

“Fuck, you’re big.” You whimpered into his lips, shutting your eyes tight, you could feel him smile against your cheek.

“You can take it.” He purred soothingly into your ear.

The resistance of the water against your bodies forced you both to be slow. As fast as Logan wanted to fuck into you, he was forced to take his time, as he wrapped an arm around your waist, using his other hand to lead his tip into your entrance. The water provided a natural lubricant for you, although you wouldn’t have needed it, even before now, Logan just had this amazing ability to soak your panties through, unlike anyone else.

You felt him enter, and gasped, practically a squeal as he pushed into you- music to his ears.

“That’s right-” He moaned. “Make all the pretty sounds you want gorgeous, I got you.” as he pushed deeper inside you, a small thrust of his hips, and he was down to the hilt inside you. Your cunt was tight around him, almost molding around his length, making him grunt as he had to take a moment to not bust inside you right then.

“Oh god-” You gasped, pressed your forehead against his. His nose bumping clumsily against yours, as you felt his own breath began to pick up. His hands moved down to your hips, he dug his fingers into your plush skin, attempting to get as much leverage as he could, before he lifted you up in the water,

It felt like slow motion, the way the lake pushed at you both, as if it was reminding you to slow down, and savor the moment between you. His hands pushed down on your hips, his movements fighting at the water, as he brought you back down onto him again. He continued those movements, angling his hips forward under the water, digging his feet into the sandy ground he stood on. Once he found a steady pace, an angle that sent you squealing, wrapping your thighs tight against his hips, your hands digging almost painfully into your scalp, he kept going.

“Been wanting to do this for fucking ever baby-” He grunted.

“Lo-” You whimpered. Every thrust hit that sweet spot inside of you. He glided easily in and out, his hips bouncing against yours, but you wanted him deeper. You spread your legs- your thighs open farther, the water allowing you to easily loosen your limbs and float, his grip on you keeping you close. You gripped onto his shoulders, tipping your head back. Your upper half of your body came out of the water with each thrust, and Logan watched- hypnotized by how your wet tits bounced, and he felt heat pooling inside him. You were so fucking perfect. Everything about you, your face, your lips, your tits and ass. Your personality, your heart. “Lo please-!” You gasped.

“Fuck-” He grunted, bringing a hand to your throbbing clit, as he begin to rub tight circles against it, sending your hips squirming against his. “That’s it, take it all-” He moaned. “Feel good darling?”

You nodded desperately, finally getting that stimulation you needed, as you quickly brought your body back to him, desperate to feel him everywhere as you began to rise to your peak. “Don’t stop, please don’t-” You begged, as you placed open mouth kisses on his lips that he returned.

“Cmon, cum for me-” He grunted. His thighs were shaking, and he was unsure he’d be able to hold out much longer. He wanted you to cum first, he needed you to cum first. He wanted to see you come undone by him, to feel your cunt pulse and squeeze him so tightly he couldn’t pull out if he tried. “Fuck, fuck, I love you-” He practically whined into your mouth.

That was exactly what you needed, as you felt your explosive finish finally reach your peak. You screamed his name as your legs wrapped around him, and you buried your face into his neck, moaning and crying as waves of hot ecstasy ran through your body. You cupped his face with one hand.

“I love- I love you too-” You managed to gasp, looking up at him in his eyes. It filled you with a certain pride, as you watched Logan's face become undone, as he thrusted up into you, you could feel his cock throb, and his cum coating your walls inside, making you feel full, and warm. He practically whimpered, carefully pulling out, as he held onto you, his head resting against your shoulder.

“Fuck, sorry.” He muttered,

“It’s alright, I really don’t mind.” You hum amused. You would have told him to finish inside anyway.

He sighed, looking up at you. His eyes were filled with adoration as he looked over your face. You smiled, cupping his jaw, leaning forward to give him a sweet kiss, that he happily returned.

“Feel better?” He asked, a cheeky grin on his face. You rolled your eyes.”You got out, got some air, stretched your legs.”

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his shoulder, pretending to pull away from him, but he didn’t let you go, pulling you back into his arms as he wrapped them around you protectively.

“Uh uh, you ain’t going anywhere bub.” He purred. “Now that I got you, I ain’t letting you go.”

“It’s about time…” You smiled, muttering against his lips, but he only smiled. You were wrong, Logan did end up making the first move. Turns out, you just needed to keep being a pain in his ass.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fic #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader smut #oof ngl i kept getting so embarrassed while writing this lol

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tux1i · 2 months ago

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Oof rip quality, jusaa click the pic to make it good noice quality which idk why my quality goes wack

If he was in game, yeah his sprite would be either have this more space to show in the dialog story, A lovable guy that only cherish on person (that is you) and mostly uses Shadow Milk Cookie as his punching bag (if any case If Shadow Milk Cookie tries to raid the kingdom)

____________________

• His limbs are all stretchy not that hard tough crispy cookie kind of texture. He has that those dough cookie (that are edible) and how it makes him that stretchy. His easily to melt and well freeze, but though freezing him is what makes him an actually tough cookie but yknow not crispy. Just hard cookie texture. If a sharp object inject or stab, it felt nothing to him or makes this hole in his dough to avoid it. Pretty much OP if his dealing with a beast cookie. His flexible and stretchy ofc. But it doesn't mean his that OP, of course he can crumbled someways.

• If his actually facing his counter part (Shadow Milk Cookie) he will absolutely destroy him legit. He really does not like Shadow Milk Cookie. For a reason (which is unknown for now). And if any case scenario if Shadow milk Cookie attempts to raid Caprice's kingdom (mostly your kingdom that Caprice is currently living in) Then of course, easy one on one battle for Caprice and Shadow Milk Cookie.

● His weapon is a hammer, yknow like Amy rose. But the handle part of the hammer is this flimsy like not stiff how it can bend. And it's Hella huge compare to Shadow Milk Cookie's tiny staff of his.

• His boing boing bouncy, can jump real high lol

□ Tbh The black dots on his hair sorta fits him, lady bug like with those two piece of hair he has as the antennas lol. Even there was this concept that his beast form is either a Ladybug or a..firebug? And it was supposed to be. .like this protection kind of symbol how his basically protecting the kingdom (which is yours) but he I remember his not a beast, his a special type of cookie so sadly scrap that idea.

□ Another scrap is that he can clone himself, how his so stretchy and able to heal himself. He can just grab a chunk of himself of his dough and using his own magic to clone himself a mini version of him. Or even a clone of him of the same size as him. But I scrap that idea how I'm not sure about that idea.

☆His class was either a assassin or magic (idk lol I sorta forget that I didn't play cookie run kingdom for weeks almost a month since I sorta lose interest playing it.)

♡ by his stretchy dough limb, he would absolutely help you whenever your in cramp schedule. Just stretch here or there to grab and give it to you.

♡ His pupils can change shape and show his energy, like If his pupil were have to his low batter typa display in his heart eye that would mean his low in energy and pretty much being lazy or tired. His only energy is by love and just fuels that energy from you. And he gets hyper from being overwhelmed by love from you. And he doesn't really require to eat (I think?) But if you do make meals or bake, I guess he will try to eat it, but it doesn't make him feel different like feeling full or feeling hungry. His built different for real

• Doesn't like Shadow Milk Cookie. Would throw him in the river

• The swirls are his blushing or embarrassed display, Rather then hue spread in a cookie's face. Just swirls appear and glows if his blushing, embarrassing or flattered.

• The amount of love letter he has for you. Just..tons... he just likes to write, or writing fanfics of you and him xdd also his allergic to flowers. So no flowers, if you don't like flowers then it's good for him since his allergic to any kind of flowers.

♤ Why does he has a love letter on his eye? From what I mention that the witch who created this cookies to life has a little young sister. And when making the creation of Caprice, she accidently knock out a love letter that is a decoration icing for cakes. And yeah.

♤ I forgot also why his head has a cracked part but must've been permanent from his backstory, reference how gems (Steven Universe) having to have a bad experience that cause that part of their body permanently. And it displays there forever.

□ Speaking of Love Letter in his eye, there is a concept of him losing his right eye. For...bad reasons. Or part of the story that I decided to not add it. That I go with the idea that is above this text.

♧ Fact that he can curl himself into a ball or well shape into an armadillo by using his hair. 👍

I sorta like this one, just the curious sprite but up side own

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lily-jaxk · 4 months ago

Text

MC Twin AU - RAFAYEL'S Muse

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty pleaseeee?"

"No and that's final!"

MC pouts making you roll your eyes at her, pushing around your straw that was in your drink. You place your chin on your palm and sigh. "Look, it sounds fun don't get me wrong, but I'm not really an art person you know? I wouldn't understand anything going on!"

MC raised a brow and pointed at your computer. "Isn't writing basically an art form!? So that makes you an artist as well!"

You could only deadpan at your twin. "Writing fanfiction is not something I typically boast about."

"But you display them publicly, like an art gallery! Hence, you are perfect for this!'

You stared at her and loudly slurped up your drink, then raised a brow at MC. "Ok, let's recap." You say, letting out a small sigh. "You got invited to this huge gallery thing, but you were also assigned to be security by the Hunter's Association for the very same gallery. So the person who gave you the invite said to not waste it and invite someone else, am I right?"

"Basically yeah."

"Ok. Next question before I decide to go or not. Why me-"

"Oh? If it isn't Miss Bodyguard~"

You pause when you hear a strinkingly familiar voice, then glance up when you see him.

Holy shit. He looked even hotter in reality.

"Rafayel?" MC blinks with confusion, placing the spoon she was about to put in her mouth back on her plate. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be preparing for your art show?"

You freeze at her words. Art Show? Rafayel? His Art Show!?

You should have known! How many fucking artists did your sister know except for him!? Of course, the art show she was bugging you to attend was his own! How could you be so stupid!?

You flinch slightly as Rafayel lets out an amused laugh, waving his hand nochantly. "Thomas has everything under control. All I really have to do is just show up and smile a bit. How boring."

Alright, [Name], this was NOT the time for simping! Sure, the man you wasted so much time and energy on was right next to you. Sure, the man you actually spent money on was breathing the same air as you, but crush down those hopes and dreams of seducing him! You weren't MC, and that was fine.

When they get married, at least you can stuff yourself full on the seafood that no doubt will be there. Mhmmm, you couldn't wait!

"Oh, Rafayel. This is my twin [Name]!" MC's voice breaks through your mind, and you blink back into awareness, then shoot a panicked, wide-eyed look at your twin, which she easily ignores. "[Name], this is Rafayel, the person whose art gallery is putting on a show for his works."

You finally raise your head to look up at him again (when had you lowered your head?), and your breath stutters. Fuck him being a mermiad, he was a gosh darn Siren. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Rafayel." You give him a small smile, trying your hardest not to squeal with excitement as he gives you a smile back. "I've seen some of your artwork. It really is beautiful."

"Hmm. I know."

Brat.

"So, will you come?" MC demands, reaching over to tap your arm. You let out a long sigh, rubbing your forehead. Alright, what were the pros and cons of going to this art show? Pros! You get to see Rafayel's work in real life since the game wouldn't show you anything. Pros! There's bound to be good food there since the little fishie is so rich. Pros! Hot Man In Sight.

Cons: Hot Man In Sight. Cons: It might disturb plot. Cons: Even though you loved your twin, jealousy was an ugly thing.

. . . . Damm. The pros outweighed the cons. You let out a tired sigh and glare at your sister. "Fine. But! As soon as you're off the clock, I'm out."

"Yay! Thank you!"

Hours passed, and you found yourself in the art show. You take a bite of the shrimp you had snatched from the table and stare up at the painting before you. The beautiful blues of the ocean, the little pink and orange jellifishes, and a colorful school of fish swam around the huge white clam that had a beautiful pearl in the middle. You swallow your shrimp and tilt your head to the side, trying to imprint the painting in your mind.

"I saw those little fishies in a dream." A voice whispers next to you, making you almost choke on your shrimp. After you had finished dying, you turned your head to see Rafayel standing next to you, his gaze completely on the painting. "In my dream, a silly fish let his friends so he could try and get that pearl. But he failed in the end."

Hot man talking hot man talking hot man- "The fish sounds very brave." You inwardly panic as he turns his head to silently stare at you. "Even if he failed, at least he tried! Most people, or well, fishes in this case, would rather let their desires fester back to the bottom of the sea."

Wait a second. Was Rafayel talking about how he represented the fish and how MC was the pearl? Goodness gracious, you were about to scream. You clear your throat and quickly toss another shrimp in your mouth to try and calm your thoughts. "My sister is still busy."

"I knoow," he sighs out, and you can't help but let out a small laugh. "And this art show is so boring. So, tell me about yourself."

Huh? "What?"

He leans closer to you, a smile on his face that makes your heart beat faster, blood rushing in your veins. "Tell me more about yourself," he says again. "I want to know more about Miss Bodyguard's twin."

. . . . You know what? Fine. It wasn't like you were actively trying to romance him! You could be friends! "Sure! What would you like to know?"

"Everything and anything." he smiles wider.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Rafayel | 18+

Happy Birthday, Rafayel! I hope you have a wonderful day with MC

#love and deepspace #lnds rafayel #lads #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #happy birthday rafayel #mc twin au #rafayel lnds #rafayel x you #rafayel l&ds #l&ds #lnds #rayafel lnds love and deepspace #lnds rayafel #lnds fic

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artaxlivs · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie’s sitting in a lounge chair in Steve’s backyard. Well, it’s not a backyard perse, it’s a huge patio with a pool and then a whole fucking forest. Who’s house backs up to the forest? Do the Harrington’s own the forest, too?

Whatever, doesn’t matter.

He’s sitting in the lounge chair in nothing but cut off shorts and his jewelry, slowly bakng in the sun. What’s left of his beer in it’s sun warmed can is held loosely in one hand when Max plops down in the chair next to him. El gently sits in the same chair as Max and the both stare at Eddie. He doesn’t look at them though.

After thirty seconds, Max asks, “What are you doing?”

“Just wait for it.” Eddie tells her, sipping on his warm beer but not moving his eyes from the poolhouse across the patio.

Both girls look over, shading their eyes with their hands. All three of them wait silently. After another minute or so, the poolhouse door swings open and Steve comes out, pushing something that looks like a vacuum cleaner. He’s wearing his headphones and sort of bouncing to the beat as he drags a big hose part of it over to the pool filter opening thingy. Popping the plastic lid off, Steve kneels down, reaches through the opening for the vacuumy attachment hose he’s holding through the pool side. It looks very complicated and Eddie doesn’t give any fucks about pool cleaning or safety or whatever the fuck is happening there.

What he cares about is all that lovely golden skin on display. Steve’s shirtless, modesty about that hairy chest or those bat bite scars nowhere in sight, wearing swim trunks so short that Eddie can see the little love bite he himself left on the inside of one of those thick thighs this morning. Left it so high that no one else would see it but he’d forgotten that this man is allergic to inseams longer than his pointer finger.

Steve must get the hose attached because he stands back up, shakes the water off of his hands and gently lowers the pool vacuum into the water, holding the hose thingy as it sinks to the bottom. That done, he dances back into the poolhouse on barefeet, probably listening to fucking Bruce Springsteen or Queen because the guy actually has way more music cred than the kids give him credit for. There’s a click and low drone as he turns the filter on and the vacuum starts to roll around on the bottom of the pool.

Max turns to Eddie and grins. El doesn’t looks away from where Steve has disappeared into the poolhouse. “So we’re ogling Steve.” She says with a wolfish grin. No question. It’s a statement.

“Red!” Eddie sputters, looking away from the poolhouse to give her his best stink eye. “You are children!”

El makes a raspberry noise with her lips and rolls her eyes in a way that looks far too much like Max - or Mike.

Max scoffs, “We’re fifteen, you asshole. Tell us what you were looking at when you were fifteen and we’ll stop.”

Nope. He will not be doing that. No one ever needs to know what young Eddie was using for ....ew he’s not going to think of them doing anything he was doing at fifteen. Gross.

“Mayfield. You’re ruining it. Watch quietly and I won’t tell Steve.”

El grins too this time and settles into a more comfortable position. She and Max share a triumphant look and lean closer together. Probably to whisper to each other where he can’t hear them. Good. Eddie doesn’t want to know.

Steve comes back out, waves at them like the innocent babe that he is and then starts wielding a giant fly swatter - or wait, it’s a pool net. It’s like twelve feet long and Eddie can clearly see the muscles on Steve’s stomach and arms flex as he scoops out leaves and summer bugs from the middle of pool with it. By the time he’s satisfied with the now pristine surface of the pool, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on Steve. If Eddie wasn’t sitting next to two teenage girls, he’d probably be over there by now, climbing Steve like a fucking tree.

Who invited them? Oh wait, they did. Happy fucking summer he guesses.

The captain of the swim team disappears into the poolhouse again and when he comes out this time, he’s got a screwdriver and a lightbulb in his hands for some reason. Setting them on the edge of the pool, he dives in and Eddie was not prepared for that. Steve’s all sleek and long limbed, sunkissed as he barely makes a splash into the pool. When he comes up, he flicks his hair back and swims over to where he left the screwdriver, putting it between his teeth and pushing himself below the surface.

Steve really shouldn’t have let the girls come over to swim today. He should have known what watching this was gonna do to Eddie. Damn him. He hears the girls giggling and sighing as he watches his boyfriend replace the light in the pool underwater. Like, he’s under water the whole time. Jesus, how long can Steve hold his breath for and what else...nope, don’t think about it.

Eddie has zero idea of how much time has passed but eventually Steve gets out of the pool, drags the vacuum thing out - holy wet back muscles Batman - and puts it back in the poolhouse. Dripping and carrying a towel in one hand and his walkman in the other, Steve wanders over to the three of them and then shakes himself like a fucking dog, The girls squeal and Eddie doesn’t because he honestly needed the cool down.

“You guys enjoy the show?” Steve smirks.

Fucking ‘A they did. Thank you very much. Eddie can’t wait to drag Steve inside and ravish him now.

That doesn’t happen. Because the girls, while old enough to thirst after an adult man, are apparently not old enough for Steve to leave alone in the pool for the thirty minutes it would take for him to bend Eddie over his bed and fuck him - honestly they could probably make it happen in fifteen if they tried. So instead, they play babysitters all afternoon and when Hop finally picks the two troublemakers up, Eddie’s too goddamn sunburnt to get laid.

Very gently, Steve rubs aloe into Eddie’s lobster red shoulders and vulnerable spiderweb of scars across his stomach, the tops of his knees and across his nose. “And what did we learn?” Steve snarks at him.

“To put sunscreen on before you take your shirt off.” Eddie replies morosely from where he’s laying on his back on Steve’s cool sheets, staring up at the ceiling and deeply regretting his lack of foresight.

He almost jackknives up when Steve tugs the waistband of his shorts down to expose his still white underbelly and kisses him just above his hairline. “Mmmhhmm, there is one part of you that escaped the mean summer sunshine,” he sucks a bruise into Eddie’s skin where he’d left the kiss, tugging gently to help Eddie out of his scratchy jean cut offs. “And lucky for you, I’m a giver.”

Happy fucking summer indeed.

***That’s all there is of this one but feel free to check out my masterlist of full fics here. If you’re thirsty for Bottom Eddie being feral over Steve, Drummer Steve is the one I suggest. If you’re looking for kinky & clueless Top Eddie then An Accidental Flogging is probably more your thing. Happy reading!

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #summer steddie

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maivolpe · 11 months ago

Note

Peter Parker x female!reader (established relationship)

Imagine if Peter finally brought his gf to the tower

Everyone would be so happy for Peter, and tony would give her wanrjngs ofc

this is an alternate universe where the events of civil war never happened, but tony still called peter in. and let’s not talk about how i’m over a year late… life caught up to me. if you’ve stuck around, i appreciate you! thank you for requesting ♡

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

pairing: mcu!peter parker x reader cw: mentions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol, threats wc: 1.4k

“honey, why are you fidgeting?” peter asked, gently grasping your fingers to keep you from pulling on the hem of your sweater.

you sighed, giving his hands a small squeeze. "i'm scared, pete. they're a huge part of your life. what if they don't like me?"

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "i promise they'll love you, bug. how could they not?"

you managed a wobbly smile, and concern clouded peter's face. "how about this, honey? if they don't like you, i'll quit. i'll pack everything up and leave. we're a package deal, yeah?"

he extended his pinky, prodding yours.

"no, that's so stupid. this is- you love everything about them, and this job. i could never make you do that."

peter wrapped his pinky around yours and grinned. "good, because it's not going to happen."

a small ding preceded the elevator slowing to a stop, and your heart once again raced. you knew it was stupid, you knew they wouldn't be anything but kind to you. and yet, the same little voice that told you peter was too good for you was talking.

it didn't have much time, however, because the elevator doors slid open.

in front of you stood a massive workshop, high-tech equipment stuffed in every corner. screens mounted high on the walls blinked with all sorts of blueprints, while robots scuttled across the ground and holograms of iron man suits twirled through the air. both vintage and sports cars lined the back wall, shelves stuffed with funnels, jacks, and batteries. old versions of iron man suits stood displayed across the workshop, all the way from the silver mark two to the flashy mark forty-five.

the real iron man was bent over a table saw in the middle of the workshop. he was clad in a ragged metallica shirt, grease smeared across his face as he ran a sheet of cherry-red metal over the blade. sparks danced up into the air at the contact, just missing his face.

“hey, mr. stark!”

the screech of the saw stopped, though tony didn't look up from his work. a scrap of metal clattered to the floor, and you cringed at the sound.

“hey, pete,” he said.

it was silent for a moment, and peter cleared his throat. tony’s gaze flicked toward you, and you offered him an awkward wave. his eyes widened.

“well jesus, spider-boy, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a lady!”

“sorry,” peter laughed. “this is mr. stark. mr. stark, this is…”

"oh, she needs no introduction!"

he leapt up from his desk, tossing his plastic safety glasses to the side before pulling you into an embrace. he smelled like smoke, and your eyes stung with it.

"nice to meet you, mr. stark," you said, muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"nice to meet you, kiddo." tony leaned in close to your ear to whisper. "you hurt him, we hurt you."

you blinked. "um-"

"kidding, i'm kidding. but seriously," he said, straightening up and walking back to his saw. "don't try it."

"i-i won't."

peter shot tony a glare before taking your hand in his. "come on, bug, let's go meet the rest."

"bug? that's adorable. think i should try that on pepper?"

"shut up, mr. stark!"

peter led you across the floor, through a set of doors, and up a flight of stairs. when he ceased to hear your footsteps pattering behind him, he glanced back at you. you stood three or four steps down, mouth agape at the majesty of the space in front of you.

it was the floor of the avengers tower that you'd become accustomed to seeing, in the back of peter's selfies and facetime calls, but pictures didn't do it or its inhabitants justice. beautiful paintings were hung across the walls, antiquated weapons were illuminated in glass cases, and intricate centerpieces adorned a dark wooden dining table. bookshelves lined the hardwood floors, full of armor and games and magazines. light streamed in from frosted glass windows and glowed from lamps set in every corner.

the kitchen was just as impressive, overflowing with bowls of fresh fruit, all sorts of cutlery, and every cooking gadget you could dream of. some shelves were full of cookbooks and ingredients, others displaying china and cocktail glasses. the sleek silver appliances glinted in the sunlight, only compounding your overwhelming sense of just how expensive everything was.

the scarlet witch stood at the stove, stirring the contents of a pot that smelled heavenly. across the room, sprawled on an orange couch, was black widow. the opposite couch held sat captain america and the falcon, deep in conversation.

peter's voice echoed across the room when he spoke.

"hey, i, uh, brought you guys a friend."

every head turned, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. silence hung heavy in the air, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"well, don't stare the poor thing down," natasha said.

somehow, just like that, the tension was gone.

wanda smiled brightly from her spot in the kitchen, offering you a wave with her free hand. "i like your sweater!"

"thank you!"

steve rose to his feet and shook your hand firmly. "i hope tony didn't scare you too badly."

you chuckled. "no, he's just... a little intense."

natasha laughed, shifting to one side of the couch to make space for you. "that's a nice way of putting it."

you settled next to her gratefully, and she offered you a warm smile.

"he's going crazy because rhodey's not here to keep him in check," sam said.

"when does he get back?" peter asked. "i have an idea for a new attachment for his suit."

"he has a committee meeting in d.c.," natasha said. "he should be back in a week."

peter frowned. "why does he have to be gone for so long?"

"do not be upset that colonel rhodes has a job and you are unemployed," a new voice spoke from behind the couch.

you snickered at the betrayed look on peter's face.

the android floated around the corner, extending a vibranium hand. "i am vision."

you shook his hand. "nice to meet you."

peter didn't want to let the subject drop. "being spider-man is my job," he argued.

you saw your chance to tease him, and took it. "then where are those paychecks?"

peter's jaw dropped, and before you could protect yourself, he was lunging forward, fingers tickling under your shirt. you squealed and squirmed behind natasha, who stared daggers at your boyfriend until he backed down.

steve smiled. "i like you. you're good for the kid."

"yeah, he needs humbled sometimes," sam agreed.

the conversation continued around you, and while you didn't contribute much, they made sure to include you. you found you loved observing the avengers' dynamic, their quick banter and easy laughter captivating you. it felt like, well, a family.

wanda called to you from the kitchen, her voice pulling you out of your reverie. "i am making lunch, would you like a plate?"

you shook your head. "that's very kind, but you don't have to."

"no, i insist."

"trust her," sam offered. "she's a great cook."

you relented. "if you're sure, wanda, i'd love a plate."

everyone gathered at the kitchen table while wanda served up lunch. peter pulled a chair up next to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"having fun?"

"so much," you smiled.

wanda had made dumplings, and they were indeed delicious. you were glad you had taken her up on her offer. they even seemed to sate peter's superhuman appetite- he sat back in his chair after only six.

tony passed through the kitchen, even dirtier than before, if that was possible. now a whole sleeve of his shirt was singed off. he grabbed a plate with stained fingers and loaded it with dumplings.

"these are great," he managed between bites.

"they're better if you chew them," steve mumured.

"hop off, old man. not like you could chew with those dentures anyways."

he finished his plate and set it on the table, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the shelf. natasha and steve exchanged looks while he poured himself a glass.

"underoos, do me a favor and bring your aunt over next."

he strutted out of the room before peter could let out an exasperated 'mr. stark!'

when you had finished your dumplings, peter cleared both of your plates and returned to your side.

"ready to go, baby?"

"pete, could we actually... stay a while?”

you swore you'd never seen peter as happy as he looked in that moment. he was positively beaming, eyes alight with pride.

"we can stay as long as you want, bug."

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

ko-fi ♡

#mcu! peter parker x reader #mcu! peter parker #mcu!peter parker blurb #mcu!peter parker x female reader #mcu!peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker x female reader #peter parker fanfic #spiderman #avengers #avengers x platonic!reader #marvel #mai writes

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reydeyflummyx759z · 3 months ago

Text

Ah, the Goddess Sneezes!

This is a lazy, stupid one-shot!

Just imagine... an allergic woman with a big nose mingles with a woman with a cold. The girl with the cold has the fetish.

CW: [Implied] Contagion; Mess; Nudity (especially towards the end)

"Ehh’HESHUHhh!" An allergic sneeze reverberated through the apartment complex.

The door to 3B swung open with a gentle creak, revealing the source of the explosive sound. Stefania Cavataio, with her nose so hooked it looked like it had been drawn with a single stroke of a cartoonist's pen, stepped into the hallway, her brown eyes watering and her cheeks flushed. Her long black hair was flowing down to her waist. She clutched a bouquet of wilted flowers in one hand and her tissue box in the other. The pollen count was higher than usual, and it was wreaking havoc on her sinuses. Her nostrils flared widely as another sneeze threatened to take hold of her. "Eh... Hehh... HEHH!!"

Her neighbor, Hannele Klein, emerged from her apartment, her own nose a sleek and sharp contrast to Stefania's. Her oval nostrils quivered as she took in the scene. Her short blond hair and silver eyes were signs of a true Scandinavian. Despite her own congested state, she couldn't help but feel a thrill at the sight of Stefania's distress. "Stef," she cooed, her voice a smooth caress, "why don't you come inside? My flowers are all dead from the cold, so they shouldn't bother you too much."

Stefania looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. "Thanks," she sniffled, her voice nasal and thick with the promise of another sneeze. "But I don't want to bug y-you... Huuuh-uhhh...." Her prominent, giant nostrils flared to twice their size.

Hannele placed a finger under Stefania's large nose, the allergic tickle temporarily subsiding.

"Heh... UHHHHhh... Thank you, Annie," she whispered, her voice shaking with the effort of staving off another sneeze. Stefania's brown eyes gazed at Hannele's silver eyes. Stefania was much taller than Hannele, standing at 5 ft 11 in with long black hair. Her hooked nose twitched violently. "Oh, cara mia..."

"Oh dear..." Hannele pretended to be concerned. For once, she was. However, she was all but entranced by her neighbor's delicious sneezing fits. Sure, they were neighbors and friends for three years, but now was the time to finally tell her how she felt all those years.

Stefania's voluptuous bosom heaved as her breath hitched, her generous nostrils flaring. "Eh... EHH... Huhh'ASSHH'iew!" The sneeze was a sonorous crescendo, echoing through the hallway like a symphony of sniffles. Hannele felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched the display, her own nose, though red and stuffy from her cold, twitching with envy. "Oh, dio... Ahhh... HESCHHIEEW! HESCHH-OOO! ASHHH-IIIEW! Ahhh... Heh-ISSSCHH-IIEW!!" The voluminous sneezes nearly took Hannele's breath away.

"B... Bless you. Huh... Hkk'TSCHH!" Hannele's sneeze was a stark contrast to the colossal sneezes from Stefania's huge nostrils. It was a sweet, almost melodious sound, the kind you'd expect from a porcelain doll with a button nose. Yet, it was filled with a quiet power that made Stefania's heart race. The two women looked at each other, their eyes locking in a moment of unspoken understanding. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the scent of pheromones and unspoken desires.

"I've... I've been so careless today," Stefania murmured, her hand absentmindedly reaching for another tissue. "I forgot to take my allergy medicine again."

Hannele's eyes lit up with excitement, and she took a step closer to her neighbor. Her own nose, though a sharp and pointed instrument of seduction, was currently held hostage by a cold that had her in its clutches. "Why don't you come in, love?" she said, her voice a sweet siren's call. "Let me take care of you."

"Oh, dear..." Stefania scrubbed the underside of her nose with an upward swipe of her hand, her already magnificent nostrils flaring at the touch. "That's what I..." Her brown eyes squeezed shut, her plump lips parting for an upcoming sneeze... Or many.

"Eh... Heh... Heh... EhTISSCCHOO! HihhTSCHOOO! AH-ESCHOOO! HASHOOO! Hehh'KTTSCHHIEEW!" Stefania's body convulsed with each powerful expulsion, her chest bouncing as she struggled to breathe between them. The sound was like a series of fireworks going off in the confined space, each one louder and more explosive than the last. Stefania's mouth remained ajar, her red lips shining in the moonlight. Hannele could see Stefania's pulsating nostrils, "Ahhh.... I have to snuhhh.... Sneeehhhhhze... Aghhh... Again..."

Hannele did something bold. She circled around to the suffering taller Italian woman, cupping a handkerchief over her nose. "Here..."

The slight brush of the handkerchief made Stefania pitch forward with a series of satisfying, wet sneezes. "Eh... Heh... H-Heh... EHHHH'ASCHOOOOO! EhTISSCCHOO! EhTISSCCHOO! EhTISSCCHOO! Oh... Hehh... Hihh... HERR'UHSSSHIEWW!" Stefania's eyes rolled back, the force of her sneezes so intense it was as if she were trying to dislodge a watermelon seed from the depths of her soul. Hannele watched in awe as the fabric of the handkerchief stretched and fluttered with each sneeze, the sound a symphony of pure ecstasy. She could feel her own cold-induced sneezes building, eager to join the crescendo.

"Bless you!!" Hannele smiled, "Are you quite all right?"

"Oh gosh... Hehh... I'm," gasped Stefania, her voice a nasal symphony of need. "I... I can't... Heh-Heh... EHKTSSCHOOO!" The sneeze sprayed all over Hannele as she accidentally missed.

Hannele pretended the explosive sneeze didn't happen at all, In fact, her own cold ridden nostrils flared widely. "HITSCH! HETCHIEW!"

It was now Stefania's turn to react. "Annie, darling ... Are... allergies contagious now?"

Hannele blew her own nose with a Kleenex. "Nah ... I... Have a cold." Her voice was like a seductive whisper, hinting at the impending storm of sneezes.

Stefania quickly escorted Hannele to the couch. "I'm so sorry I sneezed everywhere. I was... Duh ... Dusting..." Her nostrils flared widely, but she pinched them shut, eager to keep the tickle at bay. "Oddio, quanto odio starnutire!"

Hannele smiled, "So was I." This was a blatant lie. This was Hannele's plan all along. For the longest time, she liked - no - CRAVED for Stefania.

Stefania's eyes grew wide with surprise, her heart racing as she watched Hannele's slender fingers toy with the delicate tissue. "But you're always so... Heh... Heh... EHK-TSSCHOO!" A massive sneeze bellowed out of her, the tissue barely catching the aftermath. "I'm... I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as she felt a warmth spreading through her body that had nothing to do with her allergies.

Instead, Hannele did something even more daring. "That was adorable." Her voice was a gentle purr as she leaned in closer, her own nose, red and irritated from her cold, practically twitching with anticipation. "You know," she said, her breath warm and minty, "I've always found your sneezes quite... charming."

Stefania blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "Charming?" she repeated, her Italian accented voice a nasal whine. "They're a bloody nuisance, more like it." But even as she spoke, another sneeze grew within her, pushing at the back of her throat like a lover eager to be released.

Hannele's gaze remained locked on her, her own eyes shimmering with the beginnings of a sneeze. "There's something... captivating about them." Hannele plucked a tissue, and twisted it into a sharp point. Carefully, Hannele twirled the twisted tissue inside her right nostril, already feeling a cold sneeze bubble up.

Stefania felt a peculiar warmth in her stomach at the compliment, her nose twitching in response. "Well, if you say so. I thought my sneezes were too loud... and I sneeze too much."

"Loud, yes, but also powerful, like you," Hannele whispered, her hand reaching up to gently cup the back of Stefania's neck. "And I've always had a thing for..." Hannele hiccuped, the tickle in her nose growing to a crescendo. "HITSCHIIEW! ATSHIIEW! HATSHIEW! ETSHIEW!"

Suddenly, hearing the petite Dutch woman sneeze, the realization hit. Stefania's brown eyes widened. "You're into sneezing?!"

The blond woman nodded, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "I've had a sneezing fetish for as long as I can remember," she confessed, her eyes never leaving the Italian's face. "And yours... they're just..." she paused, searching for the right words. "Perfect."

Stefania's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, her heart racing faster than ever before. "But... but how? Why are my sneezes 'perfect'?" she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.

Hannele leaned in closer, her own nose quivering with the effort of holding back another sneeze. "There's something so... vulnerable about a person when they sneeze," she murmured, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of Stefania's ear. "It's like watching a bomb go off, but instead of destruction, there's this... explosive beauty. Your sneezes are powerful, strong, and beautiful... Just like you."

Stefania swallowed hard, the heat from Hannele's body seeping into her own. "I... I never thought of it that way," she managed, her eyes fluttering shut as a fresh wave of tickles danced along her huge nasal passages. "But I can't control.... Hehh, I can't control when I sneeze!"

"That's the beauty of it," Hannele murmured, her thumb brushing lightly over the bridge of Stefania's hooked nose. "Let go, sweetie," she encouraged, her voice a siren's call to the allergic woman's sneeze-ridden soul. "Let me see those gorgeous nostrils of yours flare again."

Stefania's breath hitched, the tickle in her nose growing more insistent. "Heh... Oh, God... Hhh..." She felt the pressure build, her eyes watering as she fought back the sneeze.

"Ah..." The woman snatched the dead flowers from Stefania's hand, brushing the pollen filled flowers against an already burning nose. "Sniff."

The Italian's nose wrinkled as she tried to resist. "Eh... Heh... Hannele!" But it was too late. The explosion came, a symphony of "EHHH-SCHOOO! EHH-SCHOOO!" Her eyes squeezed shut, and her chest heaved, the sound echoing through the room like a series of drumrolls.

Hannele couldn't help but stifle a gleeful grin as she watched, her own nostrils flaring with the anticipation of what was to come. She knew she had just hit the jackpot. She leaned in closer, her cold-reddened nose almost touching the tip of the Italian's hooked one. "Again," she whispered, her voice a seductive caress that sent shivers down Stefania's spine. "Give me another one. I'll return the favor real soon."

Stefania's eyes widened, a hint of excitement mingling with the allergic distress. She tried to resist, but Hannele's proximity was too much. Her nose began to tickle anew, and she could feel the sneeze building like a volcano about to erupt. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." She took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling dramatically. "EHHHH'ASCHOOOOOO!" The sneeze was a force of nature, ripping from her lungs with the intensity of a tornado, her nose and mouth opening wide to let it free. The pollen from the flowers had found its way into her system, setting off an even more explosive reaction. "Huh... Hehh'KTTSCHHIEEW! Hehh... HESCHH-OOO! HASCHHOOOO!! Eh-EHHH'KKSCHOOO!" She sneezed again, the sound reverberating through the room, her breasts jiggling with the effort.

"Hehh..." Hannele watched, her own nose twitching as she felt the beginnings of a sneeze. "Gorgeous..."

The ebony-haired woman rubbed her sculpted nostrils furiously, the aftermath being a red beacon of sniffles. "Ooh, this is annoying!!" Stefania sighed with exasperation.

The blond woman held up the old bouquet, the petals wilted and drooping, but still potently allergic. "Maybe these will help?" she offered, her voice a silky purr that seemed to resonate within the very core of Stefania's being.

The reaction was instantaneous. Stefania's reddened nostrils flared twice their magnificent size. "EHH... Heh... ASSHOOOO!!" Her voice was a nasal crescendo of need, even when she did manage sneezing. The tickle just came back stronger and stronger. "HA... HAN.... TIHH... TISSUES!!"

Hannele's hand shot out like a whip, her cold-swollen fingers grabbing another tissue from the box. She placed it underneath the Italian's nose with a teasing smile. "Here, darling, blow."

Stefania took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the sneezes lurking just below the surface like a shiver waiting to break free. "Ohh, here it cuhh... Huhhh..." Her eyes squeezed shut, and she took the tissue with trembling hands, bracing herself for the inevitable. With a loud, wet "HESCHH-OOO! ASHHH-IIIEW! HAAAHH-SSSHHHOOOO!! Hrreshh'IEEEWWW!" she expelled four more sneezes into the fabric, the tissue fluttering and sticking to her face briefly before she pulled it away, revealing a gossamer web of mess.

Hannele's own nose quivered in anticipation as she watched the tissue, now a soggy mess, fall to the floor. "M... My turn ..." Hannele's nostrils flared wide for a cold sneeze. "Hehh... Hkk'TSCHH! Hkk'TSCHHiew! Ah-kitschh!" She sneezed thrice.

Stefania's brown eyes grew wide, watching as Hannele's delicate sneezes painted a picture of elegance in contrast to her own explosive ones. Despite her own misery, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of arousal at the sight of her neighbor's pointed nose wrinkling and her dainty sneezes. It was as if the universe had created a perfect symphony of sniffles and sneezes, and they were the only ones who could hear it.

"Stef," Hannele's voice was a sweet, sticky honey that dripped into the Italian's ears. "Why don't you sit down?" She gently nudged her towards the couch, the plush cushions seemingly calling out to her with a siren's song of comfort and relief.

Stefania complied, her body feeling heavier with each step as if the gravity of the situation was pulling her down. "I, uhh, should HAHH..." Her nose twitched, and she felt the sneezes lurking, ready to pounce like a pair of hungry tigers. "Ooh, it won't come out now!" Stefania waved a hand over her face with an unsatisfied whine.

Hannele hovered over her, a devilish grin playing on her lips as she took a feather from the downy pillow on the couch. "Let's see if this will do the trick," she murmured, her voice a sweet whisper that seemed to tickle the very insides of Stefania's ears.

Stefania felt a jolt of excitement mixed with dread as Hannele trailed the feather lightly along the bridge of her nose, her own nostrils flaring in response to the gentle touch. "Heh... Be cuhh... Careful..." she warned, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back the inevitable.

"Come on, love," Hannele coaxed, her voice a warm embrace. "Just one more sneeze." The feather danced over the sensitive skin, sending shivers down the Italian's spine. "I know you want to."

Stefania's eyes flew open, her gaze locking with Hannele's. "But I... I can't control it!" she protested, her voice nasal and desperate. But the truth was, she didn't want to control it anymore. Not with Hannele's gentle touch, her caring eyes, and her sweet, convincing words.

Hannele leaned in closer, the feather poised like a conductor's baton over the symphony of sneezes waiting to be unleashed. "You don't have to," she murmured, her breath a warm whisper that danced around the edges of the Italian's nose. "Just let it happen."

With a flick of her wrist, Hannele tickled the feather against the base of Stefania's nostrils, watching with fascination as they quivered and flared like a pair of delicate butterfly wings. "Eh... Oh, my goodness..." The allergic woman's voice grew nasal and desperate, her body tensing as the tickle grew more persistent. Hannele could see the woman's nostrils grow with aching need.

Wider...

And wider...

Until....

"Ahhh..... Ahhh ...." Stefania's wide set nostrils were now expanded to twice their already gargantuan size. "Heh...!! ASSHOOOO!! HESCHH-OOO! HHH'ISSSCHHIIEWW!" Hannele's eyes grew wide as she watched the Italian's body convulse with pleasure from the sneezes. She could see the allergic woman's pulse pounding in her neck, her chest heaving with each breath. The sound was like a symphony to her ears, each sneeze a crescendo that made her own cold-ridden nose quiver with excitement.

"That was wonderful." Hannele rasped.

"I... Cahhh...." And this was it. Stefania's attempt to control the situation got lost. "HEHH'KTTSCHHIEEW!! Stahhh... HUHH'ASSHH'IEW! Sdeehhh.... HEH!! HH-ASHOOOO! HHH'UUSSCHHIIEWW!!" At that point, Hannele cared less for the mess that began. Stefania's poor nostrils sprayed allergic mucus directly onto Hannele. It felt like a shower of ecstasy. Little did Stefania realize, Hannele already removed Stefania's jacket, which revealed huge bursting breasts.

The sight was so arousing Hannele couldn't help but let out another pair of sneezes of her own, her body trembling with excitement. "Eh... KSSHIEW! HH'KSSH-IEEW!!"

"Heh... Hihh... uhhh..." Stefania took a deep, shuddering breath. "My ahhh.... Allergies..."

Hannele's cold-swollen nose quivered as she leaned in closer, her silver eyes alight with mischief. "Allow me to assist," she murmured, her voice a sweet promise that sent shivers down the Italian's spine.

With the grace of a ballerina performing a pirouette, Hannele produced a bottle of peppermint oil from her pocket. The potent scent filled the air, and before Stefania could protest, a single drop was placed gently on the tip of her hooked nose. The allergic woman's eyes shot open, her nostrils flaring like twin suns. "EH... Heh... Heh... EHHH'ISSCHH-OOO!" The sneeze was a volcanic eruption, her body arching back as the sound filled the room, raw and powerful.

Hannele watched with a mix of fascination and desire as the minty vapor danced around the edges of her neighbor's nose, tickling and teasing the sensitive skin. "Whoo..." The blond woman leaned in closer, her own cold-swollen nose almost touching the Italian's. "Just one more," she whispered, her voice a sweet symphony of persuasion.

Stefania felt the world around her fade away, her entire existence reduced to the tickle building within her. "Eh... Heh... Why am I sneezing... So... Huhhh... Much...?" Of course. Why did the Italian lady sneeze so much? Why, after three years of being neighbors, did it get to this point? Stefania's beautiful eyes grew glassy with need, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fight the sneeze. "H... Hannele..." she gasped, her voice nasal and desperate. "Why is it so hot?" At that, Stefania removed the purple bra, the beauty of her huge breasts coming to light.

Hannele's eyes sparkled with delight, watching as the fabric fell away to reveal two beautiful, giant orbs of perfection. "It's just your body's way of responding to the pleasure," she murmured, her own nose quivering as she inhaled deeply. The scent of mint, dust, flowers and pollen mingled in the air, creating an intoxicating cocktail that had her knees weak. Her hand hovered over the peppermint oil bottle, a single drop glistening on her fingertip. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a seductive purr.

Stefania's eyes grew wide, her heart racing as she nodded. "Yes," she breathed, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. "Do it."

With a gentle flick of her wrist, Hannele sent the glistening drop of peppermint oil into the cavernous abyss of Stefania's right nostril. The reaction was instant and intense. "EHHHH'ASCHOOOOOOO!" The sneeze that followed was a sonic boom, the force of it causing the very fabric of the couch to vibrate beneath them. Hannele watched in amazement as the minty scent melded with the sweetness of pollen, creating a heady aroma that was uniquely theirs.

The Dutch woman took a step back to appreciate the full view of the allergic woman's glorious glistening nostrils, now flaring with each ragged breath she took. The sight was mesmerizing, a masterpiece of nature's beauty wrapped in a symphony of sniffles. "Heh... Heh... HAHH..." The tickle grew stronger, more insistent, as if it had a mind of its own, demanding to be set free. Stefania's brown eyes watered as she felt the pressure build, her nose wrinkling and her generous chest heaving. "Heh... Heh... EHHHH'ASCHOOOO!" Her sneeze was a declaration of war on the pollen that dared to invade her space, a powerful burst of air that sent the peppermint oil scent swirling through the room like a tornado of minty pleasure.

Hannele couldn't resist the urge to indulge in her own fetish anymore. With a dramatic flair, she unhooked her own bra, letting her small, perky breasts spring free from their confines. She tossed the lacy garment aside, the metal clanking against the floor like a gong announcing a new act in their sensual performance. "Heh... Heh... Heh..." She mimicked the Italian's nasal crescendo, her own sneezes building like a crescendo of need. "KSSHIEW! HKTSSCHIEW! HKSSHIEW!" The dainty sounds were a stark contrast to the explosive ones from her neighbor, yet they held their own allure, a delicate dance of sniffs and sneezes that had Stefania's eyes glued to her.

"Oh God... I'm gonna sdeehhhze.... ag-agahhhiiinnn..." Before they knew it, Stefania and Hannele were already on the couch stark naked. Stefania's reddened nostrils pulsated in protest and pleasure.

Hannele watched with bated breath, her own cold-induced tickle growing stronger by the second. With a dramatic sniff, she brought a finger to her own nose, feeling the familiar tingle. "Heh... Me too..." Hannele echoed, her eyes glued to the mesmerizing sight of her partner's flared nostrils.

To her surprise, Stefania assisted. "Allow me, cara mia," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as she leaned in. Stefania plucked a feather from one of the old pillows, and started tickling Hannele's stuffy nose.

"Heh... Heh... Heh..." Hannele's eyes watered and her nose quivered as she felt the tickle build. "Stef..." she gasped, her voice nasal and needy.

"Respira solo il profumo. Finirà presto." Stefania's beautiful voice purred in Hannele's ears. God, it felt like a fever dream finally coming to fruition.

Hannele's cold ridden nostrils flared. "I can't... Heh... Heh..." But it was too late. With a graceful arch of her back, she let out a symphony of sneezes that seemed to dance in the air. "HKTSSHIEW! HKSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW!!" The sound was like a delicate whisper compared to the Italian's own thunderous eruptions.

"Salute... Hihhh... santo cielo... I cannot stop... Sneezing today..." At that point, Stefania's own allergic nose reacted to Hannele tickling her big nose with the same feather. Hannele couldn't help but grin as she watched the feather's dance become more intense, her own eyes watering with the effort of holding back. "Hiihh--ighh... IHH...!!" she gasped, feeling the sneeze build in the back of her throat. "Just... just a little more..." Stefania sniffled.

With a wicked smile, Hannele complied, her heart racing as she watched the Italian's nose swell and pulse with every touch. The air grew thick with anticipation, charged with the electricity of their shared fetish. "Here you go, Stef. Just let it go."

"Ehhh.... hehh.... hahh..." Her nostrils flared wildly, and she sneezed freely, directly onto Hannele. "HHHAAASSSHHHOOO! Huhhh.... HASHOOO!! ISSHOOOO!! Huhh'ESCHHHIEW!"

And then it came. "EHH'KTSSCHH-IEWW! KTSSCHH-IEW! KTSSCHH-IEW!" Hannele's sneezes were like a string of pearls, delicate and refined, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

Stefania watched, her own nostrils quivering with the effort of holding back her next sets of sneezes. The sight of Hannele's oval nostrils flaring and closing with each sneeze was like watching a silent film starlet, her nose the star of the show. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The Italian whispered, her chest heaving as she felt the tickle in her own nose grow more insistent.

"You're so allergic, dear." At that point, Stefania's blue dress came off, revealing a pair of huge breasts. Stefania wore a red bra underneath, and that slid off, unchaining the beautiful bosom.

Hannele couldn't help but stare as the fabric hit the floor, her own sneezes growing in intensity. "Heh... Heh... Heh..." she sniffled, her eyes never leaving the sight of her neighbor's exposed chest. The peppermint oil had done its job, turning their innocent friendship into a sneezing frenzy of passion.

With a flick of the wrist, Stefania applied the oil to the feather and began to dance it around the edges of her large nose, her heart racing with excitement. "Heh... Heh..." The cold air in the room was thick with the scent of mint and the promise of more sneezes to come. With a dramatic flourish, she brought the feather closer to her right nostril, feeling the tickle build to a crescendo.

Hannele watched, her eyes glazed with desire as she felt the tickle in her own nose grow stronger. She couldn't resist any longer. With a sniff that was half sneeze, half moan, she let the feather do its magic. "Huhhh.... HIIIHHH..." Her nostrils quivered in time with the Italian's...

And then, with a grace that belied her own desperation, Hannele leaned back, her own nose a mere whisper of a sound compared to the volcanic eruptions that were coming from the woman in front of her. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The sneeze grew like a wave in the ocean, building until it was all she could think about. "HKSSHIEW!"

But Stefania had to sneeze so badly. Her nose was a volcano waiting to erupt, and Hannele's delicate ministrations had turned the simmering lava into an unstoppable force. "Heh... ahhh-huhhh-uhhh...huhhh..." With a wild look in her eyes, she grabbed the feather from Hannele's trembling hand and brought it to her own nose. The peppermint oil sizzled against her skin, sending a fresh wave of tickles through her nostrils. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." Her voice grew nasal and needy, a siren's song for the sneeze that was about to overtake her. "Oh, please... Heh... Uhh... It's... Stuck..."

With a wicked smile, Hannele leaned back, her own nose still quivering from the recent sneeze. She watched as the Italian woman's breasts bobbed with every inhale, her nipples tight with anticipation. "Let it out, love," she murmured, her voice a sweet, sweet promise. "Let me see those glorious nostrils of yours flare again."

With a flick of the feather, Hannele sent it skimming over the ridge of her own nose, her eyes watering as she felt the tickle build. "HiiihhHHH!!" Her body tensed, her chest rising and falling as she took in the sight before her. The feather hovered just above her left nostril, the minty scent of the oil growing stronger with every passing second. And then, with a grace that seemed to defy gravity, she sneezed. "HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was a delicate symphony, a sweet release of the pressure that had been building within her.

Stefania's eyes grew wide, her own nose quivering in response. "Ahh... Heh... Heh..." She watched as Hannele's naked breasts jiggled with the force of her sneeze. The sight was almost too much to bear, her own allergies forgotten in the face of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of watching Hannele sneeze. Stefania then slowly lifted the tip of her nose up, squishing the underside into the fold of Hannele's neck.

"Eh... Heh... uhh-IIHHH..." Hannele felt the warmth of Stefania's breath against her skin, her own body responding in kind. The tickle grew stronger, more demanding. "Stef," she whispered, her voice nasal and strained, "I can't... Heh... Heh..."

"I'm... Coming..." At that point, Stefania's wide nostrils expanded past the point of no return. A glorious sneezing fit shook Stefania's frame. "EHHH'ISSSCHIIIEW! Haaahh-CHHHOOOOOOOO! HA-ESCHHHOOOOOO! HA-YISSSCHOO! HUHH'ASSHH'IEW!!" The room was filled with the thunderous sound of her release, the vibration of her sneezes resonating through the very walls of the apartment. Hannele watched with a mix of amazement and arousal, her own cold-swollen nose quivering with envy. The Italian's huge breasts bounced with the power of her sneezes, the sight making Hannele's heart race faster than a stampede of wild horses.

"Bless..." The word was barely out of Hannele's mouth before she was hit by the full force of her own sneezing fit. "Heh... oh god..." Her nose twitched uncontrollably, the peppermint oil sending waves of pleasure crashing through her senses. "HKTSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, delicate yet powerful in its own right, as she succumbed to the irresistible urge to sneeze. Each sneeze was a symphony of sound, a testament to the depth of their shared fetish.

Stefania watched, her eyes glued to the sight of Hannele's nose, the sharp point flaring and retreating with each delicate explosion. Her heart raced with excitement, her own nostrils quivering as she felt the tickle in her nose growing stronger by the second. "Heh... *snnnff* Ahhh... Huhh... Oh God..." she murmured, her voice thick with the promise of the sneeze that was building within her.

With a gentle touch, Hannele placed her hand on the side of Stefania's face, turning her towards the light. "Look at me, love," she whispered, her own eyes watering with anticipation. "Let me see your nostrils flare."

Stefania's nostrils quivered like a pair of huge manholes, the anticipation of the impending sneeze making her entire body quiver. "Heh... Heh... Uhh..." With a deep inhale, she leaned in closer to Hannele, her eyes never leaving hers. "Eh... Heh..." The tickle grew, a wildfire spreading through her sinuses, threatening to consume her.

With a gentle caress, Hannele traced the line of the Italian's hooked nose, her fingertip lightly brushing the flared nostrils. "So beautiful," she murmured, her own voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of a sneeze. "I'm uhh... Gonna come with you being like this..." The feather hovered just out of reach, a teasing promise of the sneeze that was to come.

Stefania felt the heat from Hannele's hand on her face, her skin tingling as the tickle grew stronger. "Annie," she breathed, her voice a nasal whine. "I can't... Uhhh... Huh... hold it back..." Her body was a tightly coiled spring, ready to unleash the sneeze that had been building within her.

Hannele's eyes shimmered with excitement as she watched the Italian's nose twitch and pulse. "Just let it happen," she whispered, her own breath hitching as the tickle in her nose grew more intense. "Let it all out."

"Heh... Heh..." With a whimper that was almost a sigh, Stefania gave in to the inevitable. The sneeze grew, swelling like a balloon about to pop. "EHHH-TSSSCHH-IIIIEWW! Heh-ISSSCHH-IIEW! HERR'UHSSSHIEWW! HHHAAASSSHHHOOO! HihhTSCHOOO! Hrreshh'IEEEWWW!" Her sneezes were powerful, the power of it knocking the very air out of the room. The wetness then formed inside Stefania's silk panties.

Hannele's own nose was a symphony of sniffles and sneezes, each one more delicate and refined than the last. "ETSHIEW! Heh... Heh..." She couldn't help but be drawn into the maelstrom of sneezes, her body responding to the siren's call of her neighbor's allergies. "Oh, Stef..." she whispered, her voice nasal and strained, her eyes never leaving the mesmerizing sight of the Italian's flared nostrils.

Stefania removed her panties, revealing a nearly shaved vagina that looked already drenched.The room was a cacophony of sniffles, sneezes, and the rustling of fabric as the two women fed into their shared passion. Their eyes never left each other's, the connection between them stronger than any pollen in the room could ever be. "Jesus... Wow... Um..." Hannele's nose quivered with anticipation as she watched the Italian's nostrils flare like bellows.

"Allow me," she murmured, reaching for the feather once more. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing over the landscape of her neighbor's face, tracing the fullness of her lips and the sharp slope of her nose before delicately tickling the tip. "Eh... Ahh... eh... Heh..." Stefania's eyes grew wide, her body arching as the feather grazed the sensitive skin of her nose.

The Italian's nostrils flared with each shallow breath she took, the tickle growing into a crescendo that seemed to echo the throb between her legs. "Heh... Heh..." Hannele watched with rapt attention, her own nose quivering as she felt the beginnings of another sneeze build within her. "Stef... I can't..."

With a sudden jerk of her hand, Hannele brought the feather closer to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil sending a fresh wave of tickles through her. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The anticipation was unbearable, her body tight with the need to sneeze. And then it happened. With a dainty sniff, she released a sneeze that was as elegant as it was explosive. "HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was like a whispered promise, her oval nostrils flaring and closing with the grace of a ballerina.

Stefania felt her own body respond to the sight, her nipples hardening as she watched the symphony of sneezes play out before her. "Ahh... Heh... Heh..." Her hand reached out, her fingers lightly grazing Hannele's cheek as she felt the sneeze build. "Let me do that for you," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate in the very air around them. Stefania fanned her nostrils furiously, beckoning the sneezes to come.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the feather dancing over Hannele's nose, the peppermint scent a sweet agony as it tickled her wayward neighbor. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." Hannele's eyes grew wide, her chest rising and falling as she tried to hold back the sneeze. But it was no use. With a delicate sniff, she gave in to the inevitable. "EhTSSHIEW!" The sound was like a butterfly's kiss, so soft and yet so powerful that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

And then...The room grew thick with anticipation, the air charged with the electricity of a summer storm. "Huhhh...." The Italian woman hugged her neighbor, yet another series of sneezes starting to brew in her magnificent nose. "Heh... Heh... Heh..."

Hannele's eyes grew dark with desire as she felt the vibrations of the tickle against her own nose. "Stefania, darling, you're so... allergic," she whispered, her voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of her own sneezes. "It's so... intoxicating."

"They.... are?"

Hannele needn't answer, as the answer was already in full display. The feather hovered between them, a silent conductor orchestrating their symphony of sniffs and sneezes. With a mischievous smile, Hannele leaned in closer, her nose grazing the softness of the Italian's cheek. "Your allergies are so hot, Steffie…" she murmured, her breath hot and minty against Stefania's ear.

"Huhh... Uhh... Ahhh..." The taller woman's breathing grew ragged, her hand moving to cover her mouth as another sneeze fought for release. "But what if I ruin your cuhh... cold?" she asked, her voice nasal and teasing.

Hannele leaned into the warmth of the Italian's embrace, her nose quivering against her cheek. "Oh, you couldn't," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with mischief. "It's just a cold, after all. Besides," she paused, her voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I've always wanted to feel your sneezes up close."

Much to her luck, Stefania's beautiful nose flared, and she sneezed head first into Hannele's chest. The dizzying fit that resulted was powerful, soaking the folds of Hannele's petite chest. "HhEHH-ESCHHHOOO! Hah-USHHHIEEW!! Ehh-HASCHHOOO! HASCHHOOOO! HIH-SHHIEEWW! Huh... Huh... HUH-UHH-SCHOOO!! ASCHHOOOO! HASCHOOO! IHH-ESCHHOOO!!!" Stefania sniffled, trying to regain control that was long lost. "Ih... Uhh .. I - ahhh - ASCHHOOOO!!"

"Wow, my freaking.... I love you... A million times." Hannele smiled, blushing hard. "Wow, that was hot."

"Was it?" The Italian's voice was hoarse, stuffy and sweet, the sneezes leaving her breathless. She sniffled again, her brown eyes searching Hannele's silver eyes for any sign of a lie.

"That was wonderful, Steffie."

"I'm glad..." The Italian's voice was nasal and sweet, a symphony of allergies and arousal. Hannele's heart skipped a beat, her own nose quivering in response.

"Well, I..." With a gentle hand, Hannele guided the feather back to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil a tantalizing promise. "Got a little tickle..." Her breath grew shallower, her chest heaving as the tickle grew stronger. And then, with a delicate sniff, she released another sneeze, her oval nostrils flaring like the wings of a moth in the night. "HKTSSHIEW!"

"Salute." Unable to control herself, Stefania reached over for a languid kiss.Their lips met in a dance of sneezes, a ballet of sniffles and whimpers. The feather was forgotten as their bodies melded together, the scent of pollen and mint mingling in the air.

Hannele's arms wrapped around her naked neighbor, kissing as they did. Being covered in saliva from the sneeze attack, Hannele asked, "Do you have a husband?"

"No. Never had a lover in my life." Stefania's nose twitched. "Forty years of loneliness, changed by you."

"But you're so beautiful," Hannele whispered, her eyes never leaving the Italian's face. "How did you live forty years without love?"

"I've kept to myself, even back in Italy." Stefania's nose twitched again, this time in preparation for yet another impending fit. "Ooh, my nose itches so much... I can hardly concentrate."

Hannele's own sniffles grew louder, the scent of peppermint oil and pollen mixing with their ragged breaths. "Let me," she whispered, her hand reaching for the feather once more. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing across the Italian's face, tracing the curve of her hooked nose and the softness of her plump lips.

Stefania's nostrils flared as the feather danced across her sensitive nose. "Ooh, it's a... Working... Kee... Keep going..."

Hannele obliged, her heart racing with excitement as she watched the Italian's body tense. The room was alive with the sound of their sneezes, each one feeding the other's arousal.

"Oh God..." With each gentle tickle, Hannele felt her own cold-ridden nose twitch, eager to join in the symphony. "You're so... so allergic... So beautiful." She whispered, her voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of a sneeze.

"Heh... Heh..." The Italian's body quivered, her eyes never leaving Hannele's. "And... and you're so... so sweet," she replied, her voice a nasal whine that was music to Hannele's ears.

The blond woman leaned in closer, her own nostrils flaring as she felt the pressure build in her own nose. "Sweet, yes, but also..." With a flick of her wrist, she brought the feather up to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil sending a fresh wave of tickles through her. "EHH-TSSHIEW!" The sneeze was as delicate as a whisper, yet it resonated through the room like a lover's moan.

Stefania watched, her eyes dark with desire as she felt her own nostrils quiver in response. "Oh Annie..." she murmured, her voice a nasal symphony of need. "That was... exquisite."

Hannele's own nostrils flared, the heat from their passionate kiss still lingering on her lips. "I've always wanted to..." She struggled to find the words, her own sneeze building, "Wanted to... EhTSSHIEW! HETCHIEW!" She sneezed again, her eyes watering with the effort to hold back the next one.

Stefania's gaze was filled with curiosity, her heart racing as she watched Hannele's delicate sneezes. "Did you want to go further?" she whispered, her own nose twitching.

"I've... I've always wanted to have a wife." Hannele confessed. "I... I didn't know we could be attracted to each other this much."

"You... You want me to be your wife?" The Italian's eyes grew wide with surprise. Her nose twitched, a sneeze forming. "But... I'm your neighbor! How can we .... Ooh..." The burn inside her big nostrils gradually increased.

"It'll be all right..."

With a gentle touch, Hannele brushed a strand of hair from Stefania's sweaty forehead. The Italian's sneezes had become more frequent, her nose a beacon of redness and swollen beauty. "You know," she murmured, her voice nasal but filled with a lilt that was anything but cold, "I've always been a bit of a... collector."

"Oh, of... Uhh, what?"

Hannele leaned in closer, her nose quivering with the effort to hold back the sneeze that was now threatening to escape. "You know... Collecting... moments," she managed to say, her voice nasal and thick with desire. "Moments like this... Sneezes... So... intimate..."

Stefania's heart raced as the meaning behind her neighbor's words sank in. "I've never thought of it like that," she murmured, her own nostrils flaring as she felt the tickle in her nose grow stronger. "But... but what if... Uhhh... ooh... What if my allergies are too much?"

"They're never too much for me." The Dutch woman replied, silver eyes smiling directly at Stefania's nose.

"But, I mean, we're juhh... Ehh... HIH-ISHHHOOO!! ASSHOOOO!! HESCHH-OOO! ISCHHOOO!!" Another explosive set of sneezes rocked through the Italian's body, leaving her panting. "We're just neighbors, Hannele. Surely, you can't want... A... Huhh... Hehh'URSCHHIEEWW! You wouldn't want such a sneezy woman like me."

The blond woman chuckled, the sound as soft and sweet as a dainty sneeze. "But that's exactly why I do," she whispered, her hand tracing the line of the Italian's jaw. "Every time you sneeze, it's like watching a masterpiece unfold before my very eyes."

Stefania felt a blush spread across her cheeks, the heat of it as intense as the pollen in the air. "I... I don't know what to say," she stuttered, her voice nasal and thick with emotion. "I... I..." Before Stefania knew it, Hannele pulled her forward with a languid kiss, their bodies melding into one.

Their tongues danced together, a symphony of sweetness and mint, a dance of desire that seemed to mirror their shared love for sneezes. As they kissed, the tickle in Hannele's nose grew stronger, until she couldn't hold it back any longer. "Heh... Heh..." With a sniff, she gave in to the sneeze that had been building, the sound of it like the delicate chime of a bell. "EhTSSHIEW! Hkk'TSCHHiew!"

"Bless... Hihh... Y-you..." Stefania tried to bless her, but her own nose was going crazy with tickles.

Hannele's eyes grew wide with excitement, her own cold-induced sneezes building in intensity. "You know, Steffie," she murmured, her voice nasal and thick with mischief, "I've read that sometimes... a good, deep kiss can help relieve the tickle in your nose."

Stefania's heart raced as she took in Hannele's words, her own nostrils quivering in anticipation. "Is that a... a medical fact?" she asked, her voice nasal and hopeful. "Because, huh... I... Ohh, heh... HEHH'URSCHHIEEWW! Uh'ESCHHIEEWW! Huhh'ESCHHHIEW!" The sneezes coated Hannele's chest.

Hannele pulled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else—desire. "It's a... alternative remedy," she said, her own nose twitching with the beginnings of a sneeze. "But it's definitely worth a try, don't you think?”

Without saying a word, the two kissed, well into the night.

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