#A Little Shelter

[rehfan]

A Little Shelter

Billy Knight x Fem!Reader/AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ only please. MDNI!! (Move along children!); hurt/comfort (small minor injury to reader with mention of blood); terrible thunder and lightning storm outside; forced proximity; Billy is shy until you get his motor running; f!fingering; fellatio; PIV sex; sleeping bag sex

Summary: You’re hiking when a storm breaks out. Billy Knight is one of the trail docents who comes to your rescue - and winds up just as stranded as you. And there was only ONE sleeping bag.

Tagged readers: @h-ness1944

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: This thing took me AGES, but this is in response to a prompt I got from @harrington4fan a long damn time ago. It came with pictures as a prompt, but I’ve since lost the original request. Apologies.

Read this on AO3 HERE

***MY WORK IS MINE. DO NOT REPOST TO ANY OTHER SITE. I AM A GROWN WOMAN WITH HER OWN MONEY AND I WILL HIRE AN ATTORNEY.***

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He was there offering an umbrella to you on the hiking path when the downpour happened. It gave you time to grab your cagoule out of your rucksack. He had kind eyes. You had seen him on the trails from time to time, passed him here and there, and supposed he was a local. Turns out, he was one of the park’s docents, a volunteer who helped keep the trails clean and safe.

“There’s a bothy up ahead not half a mile,” he said as the rain came down harder.

“Sorry? A what?” you asked.

“A bothy,” he repeated. “You know, a little shelter?”

The skies above you both opened that much further and you gave each other a look of small panic. “Come on,” he said, lifting his umbrella above you both, “I’ll show you where.”

As you walked along the path, he continued to shelter you with his umbrella, managing to get his right half soaked. Fortunately, his hardy coat looked sturdy enough for snow. You, on the other hand, were only planning on spending one overnight and you had dressed in light layers, a day-hiker’s clothing covered with a cagoule, good enough for balmy weather, the odd breeze or even a bit of damp, but nothing much stronger. You shifted your pack on your shoulders that contained all your camping gear and cursed yourself silently for not re-checking the weather report before you left the house.

“My name’s Billy. Billy Knight,” he said, interrupting your thoughts. You gave him your name and your thanks for his assistance. He smiled shyly. He was kind of adorable. His coat’s hood was up and he wore a beanie underneath on his head, a scarf was around his neck beneath the coat. Large brown eyes peeked at you as you moved along. You felt yourself blush under his gaze like a foolish schoolgirl.

The bothy was just as he had said: little. It was off the beaten path by a few paces, covered in lichen and moss. You had probably passed it a dozen times in your travels and never noticed it. A stone block structure, it was only large enough to fit a handful of people comfortably and hadn’t been disused so much as it had been overused.

It had a rough wooden door, painted a dull brown and he opened it with a shove, allowing you to pass into the murky gloom first. Paint was peeling on the inside. The single open room featured only a small table and three chairs none of which were upright. A small wooden box was on the side of the fireplace containing dry wood and kindling, and a large matchbox.

He moved to the fireplace built into the opposite wall and went about the business of building a fire. “Got to keep warm. Can’t risk cold or exposure.”

You weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or himself. You paced the small space blowing in your hands and rubbing them together. It was already a cold and clammy October day, but you couldn’t resist walking the trails and camping overnight on one of the last days before the weather became too bitterly cold, the hills of Yorkshire becoming too harsh for the average hiker later in the year. Now, with the turn in the weather, you were doubting your sanity at the decision.

You attempted to right and brush off the three large adirondack chairs in the shelter, but one of them had a worn leg and it was wobbly when you set it upright. “Oh,” he said, “I’ll have to have that replaced. Please just leave it.” But just as he said that, there was a sharp edge of the wood that caught you and you pulled your hand back, hissing a breath, and sucking on your thumb.

He moved from the fire to you in an instant. Light from one of the tiny windows in the bothy lit his features as he took your hand and the worry on his face melted your heart.

“Splinter,” you said. “I have a first-aid kit in my pack. I’ll get it out.”

“You certain, miss?” he asked. “I can help you if you like. I have good experience with wood splinters.”

As you dug through your rucksack, you gave him an odd look, “You do?”

He grinned and explained about his wood carving. It was a hobby he loved and learned from his father. “Our dad wasn’t good for much, but he was a good carver.” His knuckles rubbed at his nose viciously as he gazed out of the window at the storm. “Taught me. And I’ve had a few in my time that were quite terrible.” He splayed out his hands. They looked strong.

You moved to the other window on the other side of the door to get some light on your throbbing digit. Tweezers in hand, you tried to grab the end of the sliver, but you couldn’t get the angle right. After struggling for a few minutes, you caught Billy’s eye. He had crossed back to the fire, but had been waiting patiently and watching you carefully while tending to it. Caving in, you offered him the tweezers with a wincing smile. His grin cut brightly through the gloom.

He took the tweezers from you gently. His hand was so big, they swallowed the small instrument. Taking your hand as gently as he could, his touch feather-light, he focused his whiskey-brown eyes on the task. Before he pulled, he said softly, “This may hurt a bit. Sorry.”

“S’ok, Billy,” you said, your voice low, barely above a whisper. The mood of the room slowly shifted the longer he stood so closely to you; being in this place with the rain beating down hard on the roof, the soft muted light from the window, the crackling warm fire, the closeness of this man you’d only just met but could just snuggle up to and sleep cradled in his arms, it was like the stuff out of a romance book… or like worshiping in a small country chapel. He smelled of cedar and mint and he was so close, you could see the smattering of freckles spread across his nose and cheeks. His tongue came out in concentration and, combined with his freckles, gave him the aspect of a schoolboy.

You almost sniggered at the thought when he pulled on the sliver. “Ah!”

“Got it… I think,” he said, holding up the tweezers. Your sore finger was raging and angry, blood coming from the small cut in it. You groaned and held it to you. Billy was instantly penitent: “Sorry! Sorry! I did say it may hurt. Please don’t be angry.”

“I”m not angry,” you replied, mystified as to why he would think you would be. Your thumb went in your mouth to soothe the wound, but your puzzled look was still on your face as you saw him blush.

“Come. Here,” he said, guiding you with an arm around your shoulders.

He rushed you to the table, spreading out your first-aid supplies. He treated your thumb with an alcohol swab that stung. He apologized for hurting you again, his pained expression breaking your heart. “It has to kill the germs, miss. It’s all going to be alright. I know what I’m doing. Promise.” Some antibiotic cream with painkiller and a plaster later, you were practically as right as rain.

The whole time he worked on your hand, you watched him, how gently he worked, how careful he was, how attentive. The last boyfriend you had wouldn’t have bothered to help you. Then again, he wouldn’t be with you there at all. Ryan had hated the great outdoors. You could barely pull him away from his video game console most weekends. You had been in that relationship alone and it had sucked. So you dumped him last spring and spent your summer on the trails of Yorkshire.

And today, you discovered this treasure of a man: sweet, respectful, kind, lovely, and caring; everything you had been starved for. You wondered how keen he was on you. Would he mind a little forward flirting? What did you have to lose?

“Thank you, Billy,” you said. “Are you always this attentive to the hikers here?”

His ears went pink as he went to stoke & tend the fire. “I do my best to help people. They leave litter more than they need help, though.” It broke your heart how painfully shy he was.

“They do, don’t they? There’s no respect,” you agreed as you turned to him, settling in one of the chairs you managed to place closer to the fire without further injury. It was starting to catch and give off a wonderful wave of heat, warming your legs, hands, and your face delightfully.

“K-keep it above your heart,” he said, coming to you, gently raising your hand across your chest and toward your shoulder. “It’ll hurt less.”

“Thanks,” you said. Everything about him was gentle. It was uncanny. Had you met in any other circumstances, you might have thought he was having you on with the way he was, but your meeting was completely arbitrary, him coming along the path towards you, seemingly lost in thought, just getting to where you were wandering along - and then the skies opened. More and more it was like something out of a film.

The rain was getting worse. You had planned on camping the night at one of the approved sites in the park, but that looked like a no-go as well. Perhaps you could stretch out in the bothy? You looked around while Billy busied himself with arranging bigger logs on the grate. Yes, it might do for a place to stay just for the one night, but you weren’t sure it was allowed.

“Can people spend the night in the bothies?” you asked him.

“Not supposed to, no,” he replied, sitting on the stone hearth and watching the flames. His eyes were alight with firelight. “People are supposed to go home or use the campsite on the other side of the park.” He blinked, breaking the spell of the fire and regarded you and your pack. “You were supposed to camp tonight?” You nodded. “Hmm,” he considered, “I suppose if the rain were to continue this way that you’d have no choice, but you should really go home if you can. I wouldn’t like to think of you camping in this weather.”

“That’s-“ you started, a little flabbergasted that he was thinking of you struggling to pop a tent up in this downpour. “That’s uh- very kind of you. I don’t think I’ll be doing that either. Going home as soon as the rain lets up is the general plan at this point. But if things get too late, I may at least get my mattress and my sleeping bag out. There’s room in here on the floor.”

“I can’t let you stay in here without telling my boss,” he said. “And he’s in the main building near the car park only until seven.” Billy looked worried and his knuckles rubbed at his nose again. You felt a sudden impulse to hold his hands and kiss his nose; the urge was so strong it was absurd.

You cleared your throat and shifted in the chair. “I don’t suppose you have a way of communicating with your boss?” you asked.

“I have my walkie,” he said. “I’ll try him now, shall I?”

“Be my guest,” you said.

He dug into an inside pocket of his jacket and brought out a solid-looking long-range walkie. He stepped to the door and signaled to his boss. The static was loud on the other end, but was soon drowned out by a peal of thunder from above. No response. “I think it’s the roof. Part tin, probably,” he said. “Signal’s useless.”

“You mean you have to go out into that torrent in order to tell your boss you’re trapped in the torrent?”

Billy smiled and shrugged. What choice did he have? “Besides,” he explained, “I’d have to report you too. Can’t have a car in the car park with no owner to match during a raging storm.” He cinched up his hood, zipped and buttoned up his coat and secured the sleeves more tightly around his wrists. “Be right back,” he said before stepping out into the storm.

You acted quickly. Because you had planned to stay overnight, you were also going to make use of the showers that were provided in the campground side of the preserve. One great fluffy yellow towel was pulled from your rucksack. This you placed on the table in anticipation of Billy’s return; he’d certainly be soaked and would need it.

You also set up your mattress on the floor, the battery-powered pump making quick work of inflating the mattress’s rectangular shape once you released it from its bag. You also took out your sleeping bag for good measure. It was big enough for two, but you had bought it that way on purpose. You hated to be confined while sleeping, but you loved to camp; it was a compromise to your senses.

The whole affair took only a few minutes and just as you were disconnecting the pump from the mattress, Billy returned. He was a sopping wet mess.

“Come to the fire, Billy,” you urged. “Get your coat off and dry yourself off.” You handed him your towel.

He pressed it to his face and thanked you at the same time, his voice sounding of muffled gratitude. The fringe above his eyes was soaked and he whipped off his hood and beanie and scrubbed at it. He took his heavy coat off and draped it over one of the other chairs around the table. He gave you a shy smile before taking a seat in the chair you had occupied, awkwardly hugging the towel to his chest and idly wiping at his face and neck. “Boss says, stay put. You have permission to stay the night, if you need to. He said the weatherman said it would be quite a blow. It’ll last hours. He’s packing things up and locking the gates early. Just headed to check the campsite wardens are prepared and then he’s going home.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered and you garnered a look of concern from him. “Sorry. It’s just I’ve been kicking myself over not checking the weather.”

He caught sight of the sleeping bag and mattress and nodded his head in their direction. “I suppose you knew what the answer would be, eh?”

“A girl likes to be prepared,” you said with a slightly embarrassed shrug. You stoked the fire with another piece of fresh firewood from the box before throwing it on. The heat it was producing was lovely. “Shall I make us a cuppa?” A slow smile crept over Billy’s face and his eyebrows raised. He nodded. You giggled, pleased that you could surprise him.

Ten minutes later, you both had steaming cups in your hands seated in front of a now raging fire that was radiating a delicious heat. The teapot/coffee pot kit you had bought came with two cups but you’d always just used one for brushing your teeth. It’s the first time you had gotten to use both of them as the manufacturer intended and it was kind of nice.

“How’s your finger?” he asked as he handed back his empty cup.

“It’s almost better.” You took up the tea things, giving them a quick rinse under the falling rain outside the front door and taking a moment to really watch the downpour. He came to the opening and put his hands out into the rain, rubbing them together, washing them.

“Almost?” he asked. Standing at your elbow, you turned to him, smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“This is going to sound silly of me, but,” you began and walked back to your pack to stow your things. “But when I was a child… my mum, she would…” A wave of embarrassment came over you. “Ugh, it’s stupid. Sorry.”

“No. Go on. What is it, miss?” he asked, closing the door and wiping his hands on the towel you had provided him before and laying it gently over the back of one of the chairs to dry. “And how can I help?”

You blushed. “Oh, well…Could you… erm…Could you kiss it better?”

His mouth was an O of surprise. Regret twisted in your gut. You ruined it.

“Never mind. I’m sorry. I’m just being stupid. It’s just - you seem really sweet,” you explained. “You don’t have to. I just-“

In the firelight, he took your breath away. Slowly, gently, he took your hand in his own. His mouth met your bandaged finger. You watched as his perfect mouth met the plaster, not pressing, not to hurt, just to soothe any ache away, his soulful eyes never parting from yours. “Better now?”

Your breath caught and it took you a moment before you laughed nervously. “Much. Thank you.” He still held your hand and you still held his full attention when you asked: “Do you have a girl, Billy?”

His blush was beautiful. “Uh. N-no. Ju- uh, it’s just me, I’m afraid. N-no girl for me.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but sound disappointed. “No girls… at all?” Your meaning was evident. It wouldn’t be the first time you made this kind of mistake, but he had been giving you what you thought were all the proper signals for a heterosexual male.

His blush deepened. You hadn’t thought it possible. “Sorry, no! I like girls- love them! I mean… I just-“

“It’s okay, Billy,” you said, hurrying to allay his embarrassment. Your fingertips found his jaw and you stepped closer, his scent invading your senses. “I like you too.” This was a dance you weren’t used to doing. He seemed so skittish. If you were too bold, he might run. But he was so close. So close and looking at you like that.

His eyes drifted to your mouth and back. He wasn’t running. He was hoping. You could see it. You had to take a chance on tasting him.

Leaning up slowly, you touched his lips with yours only for him to react with a passion you didn’t expect. He cupped your face with his hands and let out a moaning sigh. Your hands wrapped around his waist. He felt so solid it made you weak. He turned his head and took you even deeper, tongue licking at your lips for permission. You couldn’t stop the sigh when you opened your mouth for him. He hummed back his pleasure.

If you weren’t wet before, you were now.

He was so delicious. Your hands fisted at the back of his jumper. The urge to climb him was overwhelming.

Billy was lost in the kiss, his hands drifting down your neck to brush the edges of your collarbones. But he hesitated and the kiss broke. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ve never- I mean, I have, but I’m not the sort of-“

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh you sweet man,” you cooed. “Come here.” Your arms came up and around his shoulders and you pressed another kiss to his mouth. He welcomed you in, hands respectfully on your hips, fingertips digging deeper as the kiss continued.

He was so gentle, it filled your heart to brimming. You found yourself winding your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, your body pressing into him. His hands came up and caressed your back, the left one high, tracing fingertips over the nape of your neck, the other low but not disrespectfully so, softly cradling your lower back.

Aching for him to touch you, your left hand traveled down to his right hand that was positioned at your low back. Taking it, you moved it under your jumper and you felt his fingers work at pulling your turtleneck’s hem up. Cool fingers touched your warm spine and you shivered and whimpered into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you asked, “Lie with me, Billy? Keep me warm. Let me do the same for you.”

He nodded silently against your lips and kissed you again, slowly. It was as if he were attempting to memorize every second that passed. It caused you to focus on little things: a glimpse of the crinkle between his brows as he kissed you again; the feel of the slick velvet of his tongue; the scent of him, complicated and woodsy; the gentle strength in his hands as he cradled you and pressed into your skin; the firm feel of him against you; his soft hair in your one fist as your other hand traced over his throat and collarbone.

The kiss broke with a wet smack and he asked you over hooded eyes: “Are you a dream?”

“No.”

“May I touch you more?”

“Yes.”

“May I kiss you more? In- in more places?”

You could feel his right hand leave your low back and the back of his knuckles drag along your side and around, loosening the shirt and dipping into the waistband of your leggings at your hipbone.

You nosed your face close to his ear and placed small kisses to the side of his face and right along the shell of his ear. “Yes, Billy. Anywhere you like, you sweet man. My protector. My good good boy.”

He let out a groan and his open mouth sucked at your pulse point at the same time his whole right hand made a dive to cup your mons, one thick finger just passing over your slit.

“Ohh fffuck!” you cried. It was all so sudden and smooth and you didn’t know the shy boy had it in him, but you didn’t want your surprise to stop him. “Yes, Billy. Please, Billy. Please.”

Matching the rhythm of his sucking kiss, his digit dipped deeper and deeper against your slit, brushing your clit, waking the fire in your belly. His other arm had wrapped around your waist to balance his pressure to your front. His arousal was pressing into you, rubbing against you, seeking out whatever friction he could find.

“May I confess something to you, miss?” You begged him to call you by your name. He pulled back long enough to meet your gaze before saying it like a sacred word. “May I confess?”

“Please,” your voice came out sounding as if you were the one who had to confess, not him.

He pressed his mouth to your ear in a tender kiss as his fingers continued their magic. “I saw you earlier this summer and I never forgot your face. I thought I would never see you again as I’d not seen you before. Thought you were an out-of-town day hiker. But then I saw you again. And twice more after that.

“Today I was low because I thought the season was over and you wouldn’t be back and now… today… here you were. And then the rain came. And now we’re stuck here. It’s like God smiled at me. But I didn’t dare push for more.

“But then you asked me to kiss your finger and I knew I didn’t want to stop but I must because you’re not mine. And then you kissed me and… and…now this. Touching you. It’s like God sent an angel.” He nuzzled at your pulse point again, eliciting another whine from you. “Are you an angel? Are you, petal?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. You were too dizzy at his words. Fortunately, your sweet keening at his speech was enough to encourage him to kiss you full on the mouth once more.

Your wetness doubled. Gasping at his touch, he softly caressed around and around against your clit, his tongue echoing his movements as he kissed you once more. It was intoxicating. You felt helpless at his touch, fists grasping at his jumper, wanting more, needing his skin against yours. And you weren’t alone in the need.

He moved behind you, his free hand snaking underneath your shirt and above your bra, caressing at the material over your left breast, squeezing and kneading the flesh beneath. His arousal was pressed firmly against you from behind and his arms pulled you further inward towards his hardened length. Facing the fire, you weren’t sure if the heat you felt was coming from it or the fire you had burning inside you.

Your face turned to accept his kisses, but you didn’t know where to put your hands at first, he had you at such a loss. Never in your life had you been surprised and pleased and lost in a man’s arms. Instinctively, you leaned back into him allowing your hands to settle on his, encouraging his touch.

He pushed his middle finger into your heat, causing you to moan into his mouth. His fingers were deliciously thick and your hips rolled against his hand automatically. Your knees were jelly and Billy adjusted his grip on you, wrapping his upper arm underneath your breasts and holding you upright as he continued to plunge his finger into you, pulsing slowly and gaining speed.

Breaking the kiss, it was all you could do to keep your footing when his thumb came back to your clit. You gasped for breath. Never in your life had your climax came so quickly. Instantly, your right hand came up behind Billy’s head. You pressed your temple to his cheek and held on for dear life as your orgasm ripped through you just as the lightning outside ripped through the sky. The thunder that followed drowned out your screams of Billy’s name.

“Oh, petal,” Billy sighed, pressing small kisses into the side of your hair and face. “You are so beautiful like this.”

Your senses slowly recovered. As they did, you found yourself still in his arms, his hand still over your sex, but his fingers withdrawn. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck whispering words of praise and thankfulness: “So good for me. So beautiful. Your body is perfect. I’m so lucky. So happy. Are you happy, angel?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “Yes, Billy. I am.” It occurred to you that he was still unsatisfied. You turned in his arms. “Take your clothes off. I need to taste you.” Sealing your words with a kiss, you stripped yourself bare and unzipped the sleeping bag, loosely throwing half of it over your naked frame to ward off any chill.

There was a dazed look on his face as he watched you settle yourself inside on your tummy. Propped up on your elbows you smiled at him and cocked your head, clearly waiting for him. “Come on, shy boy. You made me feel so good. Come here and let me do the same for you.”

“I’m dreaming,” he whispered. “I have to be dreaming.”

You giggled, delighted. “Good dream?”

“The best dream I’ve ever had,” he said, slowly removing his boots and letting each drop to the ground. His jumper and layered shirts went next, as he still regarded you with awe - blinking as though he was expecting you to disappear any second.

You were pleased at what you were seeing: a fit figure, with a bit of pudge at his navel. His brown happy trail was covered by his erect prick as soon as he released it from his trousers and the material fell to the floor. He slipped off his socks in an awkward jumping motion as he approached you and quickly entered the sleeping bag. He was so goofy and appreciative. It was delightful.

You wasted no time pressing yourself to him and capturing him in another kiss. The feel of his skin was everything. He was warm and firm as you rolled him onto his back, kissing down his chest, circling a fingernail around his erect nipple, your eyes never leaving his as you made your way down his alabaster skin. You licked at his navel, throwing him a teasing smile. His returning smile and little boy giggle lit you from within.

You moved down his body, positioning yourself between his legs. Your gaze had still not shifted from his and your reward was to see him backlit by the fire, his eyes glistening, seemingly reflecting the fire behind him. You sat back on your feet and brought his knees up with a guiding hand, parting them gently, smoothing your hands along the insides of his thighs toward his hard cock.

Billy’s hands were above his head clinging desperately to the top of the inflatable mattress and he already looked wrecked. His lips were pink and kiss-swollen, his chest flushed. You saw him swallow hard in anticipation. His breath was coming in pants and you hadn’t even touched him yet. His weeping cock, thick and uncut, curved slightly to his right. It was dripping precum on his stomach. You licked a fat stripe on his tummy, cleaning off the salty precum and giggling. “Messy boy.”

“S-sorry, miss. C-can’t help it. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Mmm…” you hummed, “So are you, lovely boy. God, I want to taste more.” You put your nose to his balls and licked just underneath them. Billy gasped and giggled, flinching. “Easy, pretty boy,” you scolded, pressing soothing baby kisses to his balls. “I’m just exploring.” You couldn’t help but notice his cock twitch.

You opened your mouth wide and took in one of his testicles, sucking on it gently before releasing it with a wet pop. He grunted with pleasure and you smiled to yourself as you turned your attention to his other testicle. The musk of him filled your senses as you gently suckled and pulled off.

“You taste so good, Billy,” you cooed. “Can I suck your cock? Would you like that?”

“Yes, please,” he said, still gasping and panting, watching you with fascinated cow eyes.

You licked a fat stripe up the underside of his prick. The sound that came out of Billy was a cross between a curse and a groan. It was the best thing you’ve ever heard. You took his cock in your hand and spit on the head.

“Fuck me,” Billy whimpered as you gave his cock a few slow strokes, spreading your spit and his precum together.

“Happily, sweet boy. But first: this?” you cooed just before swallowing his cock as far as you could.

He marveled at you. So beautiful and doing your best to pleasure him. And you were very good at it. He found himself writhing beneath you, using all of his willpower not to let his instinct take over and cant his hips up into your wet mouth.

You were drooling as you worked, but it only served to create a slicker surface as you pumped his cock with your mouth. Gently, you massaged his scrotum, delighting to hear him moan above you and call your name. He was desperate for release. You felt his cock twitch in your hand as you pulled off and worked him in your fist. You spit on his head again, watching it mix into the slick that was already there.

“Want to come inside me like this, Billy?” you asked, but Billy was too far gone. His eyes were glassy and his mouth hung open. “Billy? Sweet boy? You have to use your words, baby.” You crawled up to him, shifting your grip on his cock so that you could lie beside him and stroke him off. “Hmm? Did you want to come in my mouth or my pussy, Billy?”

His beautiful dark eyes met yours. Another lightning strike lit you both starkly. The rumble of thunder that followed echoed in Billy’s voice as he tried to form scattered thoughts into stuttered words. “M- my angel. Are you m- mine? C- can you be?”

“I would love to be yours,” you said, placing small kisses to his temple and cheek. “I want you to claim me, Billy. Mark me as yours. Come inside me. Deep inside. Will you do that?”

A feral look came into his eyes. “Mine.”

“Yours.”

Instantly you were on your back, his cock laying perfectly between your folds as he pressed his length along your gash. He ground his hips into you as he gazed down on you, his elbows braced on either side of your head. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, encouraging him closer, deeper.

“All mine,” he whispered into your hair. “Mine. Soft and warm and mine.”

You canted your hips upward toward him, the drag of his cock along your clit driving you insane. You needed more. You captured his mouth in a soft, slow kiss, moaning your desire into his heat. Slowly, your belly coiled and you chased your orgasm, pressing more kisses to his mouth and jaw and neck and praying that this man would indeed let you be his for the rest of forever.

The world tilted and you spilt over its edge, crying out Billy’s name to challenge the storm that surrounded you both.

Before you came down, his tip was at your entrance and you exhaled and let him in. Still wet from his fingering, it didn’t solve all of the burn that came from his cock spitting you in two. You wrapped your legs around him even tighter and locked your ankles, easing the thickness of him deeper and deeper inside you until you felt his balls against your ass.

“Petal?” His forehead was against yours. “Alright?”

“More than alright, Billy. My Billy. Lovely Billy. Good Billy. Hard. So hard. Fuck me, and thick too. Shit. Need you. Need this. Need to be all yours, Billy baby. Please. Make me yours.”

His hips withdrew and snapped forward, stealing the breath from your body. You cried out, but only in surprise as you begged him for more. It didn’t take Billy long to start a harsh rhythm squelching and slapping inside you for minutes at a time until finally, achingly, he pulled out of you completely and you gasped at the loss and whined for his warmth. Wordlessly, and without taking his eyes off you, he gently placed your legs against his shoulders and re-inserted himself inside you. And then, slowly - agonizingly slowly - he ground in… and out… and around.

His hips circled and grazed your g-spot over and over in the most delicious way. Your toes curled. Your eyes rolled up into the back of your head. And you heard yourself babble nonsensical gibberish into the room. Absently, you felt Billy kiss your neck and praise you: “Such a good girl. My girl. Want this. Want you. Make you mine right now. So tight for me. So warm. Going to come so hard for you, petal. Going to burst deep inside you.”

“Yes, Billy,” you sighed, “show the world who owns me. Show the world I’m yours. Come for me, you brilliant b- boy! OH!” Your next orgasm forced its way from your core to your brain in seconds and as you rolled with the wave of it, arching your back and clawing at Billy’s shoulders. In reaction, he filled you up with his cock with a rapid pounding that had him whimpering when he finally came inside you, your name on his lips, kissing it into your skin.

You lay together, frozen and panting for quite a few minutes, not wanting the feeling to end. Not wanting to separate into the two of you instead of the one combined. You felt your pussy throb and flutter around him, as if to say don’t go don’t go don’t go…

But soon muscles went slack and the end had to be acknowledged.

He moved above you, struggling to lift his head to look into your eyes. “Alright, petal?”

“Never better, love,” you smiled and kissed him sweetly. He slipped out of you and you groaned with the loss. He sat up and messed with the bottom of the sleeping bag. It took you only a second to realize, but at the sound of the zipper, you knew he was sealing the bag and settling both of you in for the night. He turned to you and held his arms out. Obligingly, you curled into him, sated and happy.

“Are you really mine?” he asked you, whispering your name into the fire lit room.

“I don’t think I could ever let you go, Billy,” you murmured. Tilting your head upward, you met his eyes. “You feel like home to me.”

“You too,” he said and kissed you gently. Cuddling you close, you felt so safe and warm. Dreams took you, but come morning, you would have plenty of time to discover that no dream could compare with the reality of Billy Knight in your life.

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

I was watching 'Revelation' and I noticed something interesting

If you look closer at Adrien's lunch tray, you can see something very peculiar included in his meal choices

There's a whole large stack of camembert just sitting there on his tray, just out in the open for his friends to see, and being as how it has been inferred that Adrien doesn't like Camembert, this must be so confusing for them to watch.

Just imagine the bewildered and baffled faces of Marinette, Nino, and Alya as Adrien piles on the cheese onto his platter, only for him not to touch it and then surreptitiously toss it all into his backpack.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 158

Klarion is on a mission. A very important mission of the utmost importance! 

He, as the oldest of the family (at least sibling-wise) has been given the sacred task of bringing his baby siblings to find their own familiars! And nothing is going to stop him from seeing this task through! He’s not going to get distracted playing with the Justice League’s Baby Team, nor is he going to try and kick Stupid-Helmet-Head-The-Despised. 

He’s going to help Jordan and Ellie find their own familiars, and Phantom-Dad will be so proud of him! Tucker-Dad will be proud too, and his Moms would as well! He’s going to absolutely rock this older-sibling thing! 

[fangirlintheattic]

THE BESTIES PARTY | Harlan Coben's Shelter 1x08

[echofades]

HARLAN COBEN'S SHELTER 1.07 | Sweet Dreams are Made of This

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

This is the devastating reality in gaza.

Even if children don't lose their lives during the bombing, they lose their limbs, their loved ones. You know how many kids who lost their legs loved playing football? How many loved to run and walk and ride a bike? How many lost their arms who can no longer feel it, no longer wear a bracelet around their wrist? There are kids who lost their eyesight due to the bombing And getting crushed under the rubble. Keep demanding a ceasefire, this should not still be happening. 44th day.

[zykamiliah]

i love it when fandom infantilizes characters to the point of denying them their own agency.

"if people in cang qiong had treated shen jiu differently-" do you have any evidence that they mistreated him? or is it too hard a pill to swallow that shen jiu was the one who decided to close himself off and be an asshole. that cang qiong treated him just fine, that his martial siblings tolerated him to the point that even when he was suspected of murder nothing was done to him?

who forced shen jiu to abuse luo binghe? to abuse other disciples? those were his decisions, that was him acting in a position of power.

the moral of the story is not "shen jiu was misunderstood :(" the moral is: the person who was abused can also become an abuser. the one who suffers violence can be violent towards others. you, despite what you've gone through, have the capacity for kindness and cruelty. so be wise on how you decide to act, because your pain doesn't justify hurting others, and your actions will have consequences.

you have agency, you have whatever amount of power you have over your own life and the things you do have and impact in the lives of those around you and yourself. so maybe try being at the very least neutral to the world and yourself, if you can't be kind.

but no, shen jiu's mentality was "since I suffered, they deserve to suffer too". and by taking that path he perpetuated the cycle of abuse.

bingge is the same, because he could have stopped at taking revenge on shen jiu, but he decided to involve the whole sect and the rest of the world, no matter who was innocent. he was unnecessarily cruel, but so was his master.

both shen jiu and bingge had the capacity for some form of "niceness" (in the way they treated women), so it wasn't as if they'd never known some form of love. at some point in their lives, they stopped being abused children and became abusive adults.

and that's an expression of human behaviour that we have to accept as possible. the svsss narrative invites us to examine ourselves in this light, to witness our capacity for both love and hate, to realize that even in the most adverse of circumstances, there's always a small sliver of agency over how we feel and how we act. that, despite the things that defines us from birth through childhood, our decisions also define what we'll become in the future.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You're mine now, old man.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[mickeym4ndy]

Post-canon headcanon that the first time Ian has to go for a long weekend away without Mickey (brothers trip or something) he’s anxious to get home because Mickey’s been a bit ~~weird~~ on the phone while Ian’s been away, ending the phone calls too quickly and stuff.

And then he gets home to his husband sitting too still on the couch and Ian’s like “what did u do this weekend” “……nothing…” and Ian knows immediately something’s up and just when he’s about to ask more he hears barking from another room. And mickeys just like 😳

And then all of a sudden Ian’s being jumped on by a giant excited ball of fur and he’s just like “… oh what did u do”

And mickeys just like “she was sleeping under the tracks Ian I couldn’t just leave her there it’s cold and she was hungry look at her she clearly hasn’t been eating properly! And u should’ve seen the shelter nearby it was miserable she would’ve hated it there!”

And Ian knows that right now is not a good time because they’re expanding the business and there’s so much going on and they’re already so busy… but he takes one look at his husbands pleading face and knows that this dog is not going anywhere

And at first Ian’s like fine but ur taking care of her and she sleeps in a crate “but Ian-” “she’s not sleeping in the bed Mickey”

BUT then he becomes the epitome of ‘dad and the dog he didn’t want’ and he insists on buying her the expensive name brand food because “she doesn’t like the other stuff mick it upsets her stomach” and the expensive dog shampoo bc “she’s more comfortable when we use this stuff mick” even tho mickeys like she was sleeping on the streets and eating trash when I found her but ok

Then Mickey gets home late one night after helping Sandy with something to find his husband already in bed and Mickeys side of the bed is taken up by some familiar fur. Mickey laughs as he gets ready for bed “she’s not sleeping in the bed Mickey” he mocks

“shut up. get in here” Ian mumbles sleepily and Mickey just laughs as he slots himself into bed between his husband and the dog

[slashmagpie]

“Pearl? Why are you in my house?” 

Pearl blinks up at Bdubs from where she’s sandwiched between the wall and the waterstream, curled up on herself in the narrow space. “Somebody destroyed all the lights in my base and now it’s full of mobs,” she says bitterly.

“It wasn’t me!” Bdubs cries, raising his hands.

“Well, I didn’t think it was you, but the way you just said that’s making me think—”

“No! I’d never! I swear!”

“...I believe you,” she says after a moment, and Bdubs feels himself relax. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t really feel like…” She gestures in the direction of her house.

Bdubs nods. “Oh, sure, for sure,” he says. Then, “Should we invite Joel over? His house got blown up too.”

“Ah, yeah, probably. Good idea, Bdubs.” She fumbles in her pocket for her communicator, eventually fishing it out. The screen is cracked. Her fingers shake as they tap against the glass. 

“Are you okay there, Pearl? You look a little…” Bdubs forces his hands to tremble. 

She glances up at him, face scrunching in confusion, before she lets out a small laugh. “Just the adrenaline, y’know.” She grins. “I’m red. It’s great.” 

“If it was anyone else, I’d think they were being sarcastic. But with you! With you, I’m pretty sure you’re being serious!”

She giggles, hitting send on the message and shoving her communicator away. Bdubs doesn’t feel his own buzz; it must have been a whisper. “You know,” she says after a moment, “I’m a little surprised.”

Bdubs blinks. “Surprised about what?”

“That there’s still three of us.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I’m a little surprised, too! I thought for sure Joel would die today. For sure.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Oh, no, never. But between you and me… that guy’s kind of a loose canon!” 

She snorts. “Throwing stones from glass houses, there, Bdubs?”

“Surely I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.” She pauses, eyes glancing down to where her fingers pick at a stray thread on her hoodie sleeve. “That’s kinda what I mean, though. Joel doesn’t live here, and you’re making friends with half the server, I’m surprised I’m not spending tonight alone.”

“Pearl…”

“What?” She snorts. “I know how these games go, Bdubs. People don’t stay loyal. Not for long, anyway.” She glances up at him, eyes half obscured by her hair. “People like Joel, people like you? I know how this ends.”

And Bdubs—

Well, he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what she means. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Impulse yelling as Bdubs’ arrow had found home in his throat. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Etho backing away when Bdubs had tried to get just a little too close. Can’t pretend he didn’t fight when he promised he’d run. Can’t pretend he hadn’t taken advantage of his broken home. 

…He can’t pretend he doesn’t remember telling Martyn about their plans, or planning to do harm to Etho. Can’t pretend he doesn’t cross his fingers behind his back every time he makes a promise, just in case.

But at the same time, he remembers—searching for Cleo in a castle she’d been too dead to return to, pushing Lizzie to her death for a life he’d never received, taking two hands in his own and vowing to face the end as four instead of two, for once, for once in his life, choosing three and being pulled apart because of it—

Bdubs lets out a breath. “Pearl, hey, no,” he says. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m your weapon.” He gets down to his knees, lowers his head before her, feels her gaze burn into the top of his head.

“Bit late for that,” she says. “I’m my own weapon now, mate. Don’t need you to attack for me anymore.”

“Well, no—but—” He looks up at her. “Pearl. I’m yours. I promise.”

“Right. And you’re Martyn and Etho’s too, huh? We can share.”

“I’m using Martyn!” he protests. “That’s—that’s all it is—I’m usin’ him because he’s the first red and he knows his stuff! And Etho—”

“I don’t mind about Etho,” Pearl interrupts. “Like I said, I know you guys have your little thing going on. I don’t care about that.”

“I set a trap in his base,” Bdubs blurts.

Pearl blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“I set a trap in his base. Tripwire hook.” He grins. “Right outside the bedroom. I—I think I got Grian, in the end? But—could have been Etho. I coulda—could’ve been Etho.” He swallows.

“And you’d have been okay with that?” Pearl asks, smile gone from her face, expression suddenly very serious.

“I—after I set it, I went up to them. Had a chat. Lied the whole time. I coulda—coulda told him. I didn’t.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” she stresses.

She sounds dubious. Bdubs can’t blame her. He feels sick, swallowing back the bile that’s building in his throat.

“I—Pearl.”

“Bdubs?”

“I learned my lesson, Pearl. I learned—don’t put all your eggs in one basket! Because—because either they die, and then you get left alone, or—or it gets you killed, and you die. You gotta—I have two hands. I can be loyal to multiple people. But then I learned—when you do that? People aren’t loyal back. They don’t trust you anymore. Nobody else…” He laughs. “I feel like I’m the only one who can trust people like that anymore!”

“So…” She frowns. “So you’re making friends with everyone so you don’t get betrayed or left alone?”

“Exactly.” 

“And you know none of us are gonna trust you for doing that.”

He swallows again. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re doing it anyway?”

“Well, what else—what else am I supposed to do? I can’t… I can’t go back, Pearl. That’s… I can’t go back. You know how it is.”

“…Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m—I want you to win, Bdubs,” she says. “Out of everyone—I want it to be you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So… You better not make me regret this.”

He blinks at her. “Regret what?”

She bows her head to him. “I’m your weapon,” she says, an echo of his earlier words. “And a bit more of a dangerous one at that.” Her smirk leaks back into her words as she glances up and winks at him. “So use me well, alright, Bdubs? I want you to win this.”

Bdubs’ heart is in his throat. He swallows it back down. It burns.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. 

The door slams open, startling them both out of their skin.

“Hey guys—uh. What are you doing?”

“Oh, for—Judas Priest, Joel, learn to knock!”

“You invited me over! Or, Pearl did—hey Pearl.”

“Hey,” Pearl says. “Come on in! Sleepover at Bdubs’ time.”

“I can’t believe this is the last of our bases left standing. It’s, like, the worst one.”

“Hey!” 

“There’s no space in here!” To punctuate his statement, Joel slumps down against one wall, kicking Bdubs in the ribs as he does so. Bdubs grunts. “See?”

“It’s definitely not the most spacious…” Pearl acquiesces.

“Anyway. What were you guys doing before I came in?”

“Swearing loyalty,” Bdubs says. 

“Oh.” Joel blinks. “Do you need me to do that? Because I’m a Mounder for life. Loyal to the end.”

Bdubs and Pearl glance at each other.

“Somehow I actually believe him,” Bdubs stage-whispers, and Joel squawks in offence as Pearl barks out a laugh.

“No, I think you’re good,” she says. Leaning her head back against the wall, she says, “This is probably our final night.”

The three of them are quiet for a moment.

“Well,” says Joel. “We gotta make it to the end then, don’t we?”

He’s looking at Bdubs. They’re both looking at Bdubs. 

Bdubs nods.

“May the best Mounder win,” he says solemnly.

Joel grins.

[ricksanchezbignaturals]

this part of rick's character design

reblog. you agree.

stills yoinked from @rickandmortyscreenshots

[bildads-shoes]

honestly i'm a bit obsessed with their wings. every scene i'm like ok but do you have wings? will you have wings? when will you have wings???

[jessiesjaded]

I really, really wish people who don't have the capacity to properly take care of animals would simply accept and acknowledge that about themselves. This isn't even a post of me trying to be mean or judge anyone, I'm sure most people go into getting an animal with good intentions, but intentions and actions are different. If you don't have the time and the space and the care an animal needs, the animal will suffer. The fleeting joy of having a kitten or puppy or anything else doesn't last forever and they aren't toys to be put down and forgotten once you've moved past the inital excitement. If you don't have the ability to properly care for an animal, just accept that and simply admire them from a distance.

[meyerlansky]

MASTERS OF THE AIR: PART SIX

[spoonbf]

thinking abt. how spoon holds his spoon (the one in his pocket) when he's nervous or upset

[saphira-approves]

I’d love to know Rhünon’s thoughts on how Riders name their swords. Does she have a no-judgement policy? Did Vrael have to sit her down for a chat when her bluntness reduced twelve new Riders into tears because of their terrible name choices? I mean, just look at Brom and Morzan:

Morzan: I name this blade Misery, for misery it shall bring to all my enemies!

Brom: And I’ll name mine Void-biter, for its edge carries the bite of death!

Rhünon, bribed copiously by Vrael to keep her thoughts to herself: Who let these edgelords have dragons—