#if you're ever curious about something feel free to ask

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Love in the Dark: Chapter Three

Love in the Dark: You discover an intense connection with an enigmatic dream lover, yearning for a love beyond physical appearances. As your encounters blur the lines between the waking world and the Dreaming, your grapple with the complexities of desire, friendship, and mortality. Can you truly love in the dark?

Warnings: Language, Name Calling.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x NAMEDFem!Reader.

Word Count: ~2.7k

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You're sitting in the palace courtyard, the sun casting a warm glow over the stone walls. Matthew, the newly-minted raven, is perched on the bench beside you, his feathers ruffled and out of sorts. You've been helping him preen them for the past few minutes, your fingers deftly working through the soft down.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you about something," Matthew says, his voice casual.

You raise an eyebrow, not taking your eyes off your task. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Your little... arrangement with that dream of yours," he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the flush that creeps up your cheeks. "It's not an arrangement," you say, trying to keep your tone light. "It's just... different."

Matthew cackles, his laughter echoing through the courtyard. "Different? That's one way to put it. I've never heard of anyone having a relationship with a dream before."

You glare at him, your fingers stilling in his feathers. "It's not like that," you say, your voice low. "It's not just some fling. It's... real."

Matthew's expression softens, and he tilts his head to the side, regarding you with a curious gaze. "I didn't mean to make light of it," he says, his voice sincere. "I just... I don't understand it. How can you have a relationship with someone you've never even seen?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "It's not about looks," you say, your voice quiet. "It's about... connection. Understanding. He knows me in a way that no one else does. And I feel the same way about him."

Matthew is silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "I guess I can see that," he says finally. "But don't you ever wonder what he looks like? What he sounds like in a normal setting?”

You shake your head, resuming your work on his feathers. "It doesn't matter," you say, your voice firm. "I don't need to know those things to love him or be loved by him.”

Matthew nods, his expression understanding. "I get it," he says. "But just be careful, okay? Dreams can be... unpredictable."

“Pretty sure he's a dream, Matty, not a nightmare," you remind him. "And he's a blissfully pleasant one too. Besides, " you look the raven up and down with raised eyebrows, "are you really gonna be the one to talk about unpredictability? Weren’t you a human a couple months ago?”

Matthew caws, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a screech. He appeaser to consider something in his mind before speaking, “Touché. But I wasn’t falling for dreams.”

“Falling for dreams?” you echo, incredulous. “You’ve been in The Dreaming for all of what, four months? What do you know about falling for dreams?”

“Enough to know you’re head over heels,” he retorts, his beak clicking with amusement and feet skittering across the marble bench in a little dance. Your hands clench around a particularly stubborn feather, and you pull it free with more force than necessary. Matthew squawks and hops to the side, shaking his feathers out indignantly.

“Ow! Watch it! These are prime feathers of the great raven of Dream of the Endless!” Matthew cries in exaggeration.

"And I can spend my time elsewhere,” you remind him.

His caw turns into a softer chuckle, and he hops back closer, a glint his eyes. "Alright, alright, point taken. I'll back off," he concedes, spreading his wings slightly as if to show peace. You give him a doubtful look. "You know, for someone who's so smitten, you sure do spend a lot of time pretending not to be," he quips, not able to help himself.

Your face burns, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a retort. Instead, you focus on smoothing out another feather, your fingers working methodically.

"Come on, Kora," he prods, leaning in conspiratorially. "What's his name? Or does he just go by 'dreamy'?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head. "I'm not telling you his name," you say firmly. "It's private."

"Private?" Matthew cackles. "You do realize you're talking to a raven in The Dreaming, right? Privacy's a bit of a moot point here." Your grip tightens on his wing, and Matthew lets out an exaggerated squawk. "Alright, alright! No need to get all ruffled up," he chuckles, hopping away slightly.

"Matty," you warn, your patience wearing thin.

But Matthew doesn't seem to notice or care. He puffs up his feathers and mimics a dreamy voice. "'Oh, my mysterious lover of the night! How I long to gaze upon your co—" He cuts off the moment you lunge for him, flapping his wings fervently to take off, cackling as he circles above you.

"Get back here, you feathered menace!" you shout, springing to your feet. Matthew caw is filled with laughter as he swoops his way out of the courtyard. You are quick to follow him. Your legs pump hard as you chase after him, your shoes slapping against the cobblestones. Matthew dips and weaves through the air, his laughter echoing through the courtyard.

"Catch me if you can!" he calls out, swooping low just out of your reach. You stretch out your hand, fingers brushing the tips of his tail feathers before he darts away again. You round a corner and see him perched on the edge of a fountain, his beady eyes glinting with amusement. You skid to a halt in front of him, panting slightly from the chase.

"Gotcha, you little rat-faced buzzard," you say with a snarl, prepared to throw fist with the raven.

"Buzzard!?" Matthew screams in outrage. "I'll have you know I am one of the most handsome raven in this realm! You're just jealous!”

"I am not!" You scream back, this time the one in outrage. Matthew caws loudly, his laughter mingling with the rustling of leaves as he takes off again. You dart after him, your feet pounding against the stone paths of the courtyard. He flies low, just enough to keep you on your toes but out of reach.

He leads you into the library, his wings brushing past the grand wooden doors that swing open with a creak. You burst in after him, the cool air and scent of aged books enveloping you. Matthew begins to circle your head, singing in an off key tone, “Kora and Dream Man sittin' in a dream, K-I-S-S-I—”

"Matthew!" you shout, cutting him off as your voice echos off the high ceilings. "Get down here right now!"

"Kora and Dream Man sittin' in a dream, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Matthew repeats, laughter bubbling up as he finishes the rhyme. Gritting your teeth, you look around for something to hurl, spotting a hefty, leather-bound volume on a nearby table. Without a second thought, you grab it, feeling its heft in your hands. Matthew's laughter rings through the library as he flaps just beyond your grasp.

"Fine, you brought this on yourself," you mutter under your breath, winding up as if preparing to throw a game-winning pitch. With all your strength, you launch the book toward Matthew's general vicinity. It whirls through the air, spinning end over end.

Matthew caws in shock and flaps his wings furiously to evade the incoming missile. The book narrowly misses him and crashes into a bookshelf behind him with a loud thud. Several books cascade from the shelves, somehow landing in a neat pile on the floor.

"Hey!" Matthew squawks, circling back around to hover just beyond reach once more.

You grab another book from a nearby shelf, this one slimmer but still substantial enough to use as a projectile. "Come down here and apologize, or I'll keep throwing," you threaten your eyes fixed on him like a predator eyeing its prey.

"Never!"

The grand library doors creak open again, and Lucienne steps inside, her expression one of mild exasperation. Clearly she has heard the ruckus you and Matthew were making. "What on earth is going on here?" she demands, adjusting her spectacles as she surveys the chaos.

With the book ready to launch, you jab an accusing finger at Matthew, who now sits smugly on an upper shelf. "He's being an ungrateful rotisserie!" you shout, cheeks flushing with a blend of anger and humiliated rage.

Matthew fluffs his feathers, outrage simmering in his eyes. "Ungrateful rotisserie?!" he squawks, voice piercing. "I have served Lord Morpheus with utmost loyalty! Rotisserie my ass, Kora!"

You roll your eyes and drop the book back onto the table with a thud and dramatic sniff. "You're right. Rotisserie would imply you're delicious, which you are clearly not."

Lucienne clears her throat, her presence commanding attention once more. What even is your argument about? The librarian had not a clue. "Enough of this nonsense," she says, stern yet calm. "Both of you. This is a library, not a playground for squabbles."

Matthew lands on the back of a chair, still ruffled but subdued by Lucienne's stern gaze and words. He mutters under his breath, "I would be a fuckin' delicious raven."

You ignore him and turn to Lucienne, who looks at you expectantly. "Sorry," you mumble, heat rising to your cheeks. "We got carried away." Then you have the juvenile thought to get in one last barb, "he started it though,"

Matthew is beside himself at you placing the blame on him. He hops from foot to foot, his feathers fluffed up like a black puffball. An adorable look you think. "I did not start it!" he squawks, his beady eyes wide with indignation. "You can't just go around blaming the innocent raven!"

Lucienne sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. How had this even started? "Both of you, out," she says firmly. "The library needs to be a place of quiet and order."

You shoot Matthew a glare, but decide it's not worth arguing further. With a huff, you turn on your heel and march towards the door, Matthew flapping after you in disgruntled silence. As you step out into the hallway, you can't help but feel a twinge of remorse. Maybe you overreacted. Or not, but you did feel bad at throwing a book in the library. You glance at Matthew, who is now sulking on your shoulder, and mutter, "Sorry about the book.”

Matthew tilts his head, looking at you with one eye. "Yeah, well," he grumbles. "Throwing the book at me was pretty funny. Did you see Lucienne's face?"

You dissolve into a fit of giggles in reminder.

"We also know that I would be a fuckin' delicious raven. Fried preferably, gotta get my skin nice and crispy…" He makes a wistful sound in his throat.

You continued to giggle, the tension from your earlier spat melting away. Matthew preens himself, clearly pleased that he’s managed to lift your spirits despite circumstances.

“Alright, alright, you crispy critter,” you chuckle, giving his feathers a gentle ruffle. “Let’s go find something to do, not in the library.” Matthew lets out a final caw of laughter before hopping off your shoulder and gliding down the corridor ahead of you. You follow him, the two of you slipping back into the familiar routine of The Dreaming.

As you continue down the corridor, Lucienne stands by the library entrance, watching you both leave. Her eyes flicker to the shadows where Morpheus lingers, half-hidden behind a pillar. His expression is soft, almost tender as he watches you walk away.

Lucienne catches the smile playing on Morpheus' lips and the sparkle of stars within his eyes; her brows furrow slightly in suspicion. She knows you haven't crossed paths with him yet, haven't seen his true form or matched name to face. You hadn’t even been face to face. But there's something in the way he looks at you that sets off alarm bells in Lucienne's mind. Perhaps not alarm bells, but suspicion that there was something else going on within the palace that she was not aware of.

Were you not strangers?

Morpheus steps forward from the shadows just enough for Lucienne to see him clearly. His gaze meets hers, and for a moment they communicate silently: Lucienne's concern mirrored by Morpheus' unspoken affection for you.

"Sir," Lucienne says softly as she approaches him. "Is there something I should know?"

Morpheus steps further into the light, his face an impassive mask. "There is nothing to concern yourself with, Lucienne," he replies, his tone cool and distant.

Lucienne's eyes narrow slightly. "It's just that Kora... she seems quite taken with a certain dream. And you've been rather... elusive as of late.”

Morpheus tilts his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might be a suppressed smile. "I assure you, everything is as it should be," he says smoothly. His gaze flickers past her to where you and Matthew disappear around a corner.

Lucienne hesitates, clearly not satisfied but unwilling to press further without more evidence. "Very well, my lord," she says finally, bowing her head slightly before retreating back into the library.

As you follow Matthew down the corridor, the remnants of your laughter echo softly against the ancient walls. The Dreaming feels more alive than ever, each step you take imbued with a sense of magic and wonder. Matthew flutters ahead, occasionally glancing back to ensure you're still following.

"So, what's next on our agenda?" you ask, your voice light and playful. "Another round of teasing me about my love life, or are we actually going to be productive?"

Matthew lands on a nearby pedestal, preening his feathers with an air of mock seriousness. "Well, I did hear there's a new exhibit in the Hall of Portraits," he says, his tone suggesting he's more interested in mischief than art appreciation. "But if you'd rather avoid that and get back to your mystery lover—"

"Matthew," you interrupt, shaking your head with a smile. "You're impossible."

"Well I gotta get my gossip in with someone," he caws in amusement, then hops back onto your shoulder as you continue walking. The corridors twist and turn, leading you through various parts of the palace. Each room you pass holds its own unique charm—dreamscapes frozen in time, awaiting their dreamers.

Eventually, you find yourself in a quieter part of the palace. The air is cool and tinged with the faint scent of jasmine. You pause for a moment, taking in the serene atmosphere. Matthew plucks at your hair affectionately before taking off again, this time leading you towards a small garden tucked away behind ornate wooden doors.

You push open the doors and step into the garden, feeling the soft grass beneath your feet. The garden is a tranquil oasis filled with blooming flowers and gently swaying trees. A stone bench sits invitingly under a large oak tree, its branches providing ample shade.

Matthew perches on a low-hanging branch, watching as you make your way to the bench and sit down. "You know," he says thoughtfully, "for all your talk about not needing to see him... don't you ever wonder what it would be like? To look into his eyes?"

You lean back against the cool stone of the bench and close your eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the garden wash over you. "Of course I do," you admit softly. "But I also know that what we have is special because it's not based on appearances."

Matthew nods slowly, his feathers rustling softly in agreement. "I get it," he says quietly. "But just promise me you'll be careful. Just because everyone's so nice to you, doesn't mean that there aren't nightmares lurking around waiting for the chance to pounce on an unsuspecting dreamer."

You smile up at him, appreciating his concern despite his usual antics. "I promise," you say sincerely.

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while longer before Matthew finally breaks it with another caw of laughter. "Alright," he says, hopping down from his branch. "Enough serious talk. Let's go find some trouble to get into."

"Wanna go dump glitter in the selkie pond?” You offer, knowing full well that the ladies would fuss over the particles getting in their coats.

"Fuck yeah!"

Date Published: 9/23/24

Last Edit: 9/23/24

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[soulsxng]

Honestly, my muses are all over the board in terms of height. It's one of the fun things about making a bunch of different species-- figuring out sizes, and features, and cultures, and all that!

One of the not so fun things? Managing to wrangle myself into actually typing it all out and posting it so that other people know about said made up species. orz

[kotoku]

Hi, can I request an Aventurine with an Inmortal! s/o who's also non-binary plz 👀

You're free to reject it if u want, just giving u an idea... 😅

ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - aventurine x immortal! reader

content - reader is non-binary/ gender-neutral terms/ established relationship/ aventurine is in for a shock/ reincarnation themes

warnings - teeny angst towards the end

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ You probably wouldn’t have told him about your immortality, figuring that you could tell him when the time is right

↻ Turns out, that time is when you’ve been brutally wounded by an enemy, Aventurine nearly having a heart attack when you show up with multiple wounds and cuts that seemed life-threatening

“How are you..alive??”

“..Surprise..?”

↻ When you break the news to Aventurine, he doesn’t react at first, seemingly taking in everything you had explain 

↻ A part of him feels devastated, is he just a fleeting chapter in your book? A memory that would slowly be forgotten over time? But he also feels relieved, you couldn’t die so he didn’t have to worry about your death anytime soon

↻ Aventurine slowly comes to terms with your immortality, always inquiring about your past and what it’s like

↺ He’s probably curious about the healing process and the damage you take, asking about any experiences you had during battles where it took you a while to heal (the morbid curiosity this guy has…)

↻ If you’re in a battle with Aventurine, you’d probably throw yourself in front of him to defend him from any attacks if his shields aren’t up

↺ He hates your recklessness but also appreciates it

↻ You, as expected, stay the same as Aventurine continues to age, watching him slowly gain wrinkles and his hair fade away (if he doesn’t die to something else, of course)

↺ You’d be pretty devastated about him, mourning his death for a long, long time before suddenly, you see a familiar head of blond and magenta-cyan eyes

“..How– How can this be..?”

↻ If Aventurine were to be reincarnated, you’d be thrilled but also a bit sad, all the memories you shared together, reduced to nothing, as you stand before him as a stranger

“Do I..know you?”

↻ You could feel yourself breaking down all over again, mourning a person who was dead but alive before your eyes 

↺ You’d probably avoid interfering with his reincarnation, wanting fate to run its course

↺ And run its course it did

↻ The reincarnation of your past lover falls for you yet again, and it is only now that every person you have ever loved in the past, resembled Aventurine in some way (whether it was his blond hair, unique eyes, or personality, they all had something in common)

↻ In every life time of his, you were there

↻ You were eternally tied to his soul; soulmates

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

[pomefioredove]

movie night

summary: vil devotes his time to showing you all the movies you haven't seen yet type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, kinda short author's note: I so often think about how yuu is completely unfamiliar with pop culture in twisted wonderland. vil would lose his mind if he found out you hadn't seen a single movie yet. in my heart I know he's a little nerdy about it

It's to be expected.

Of course. Of course you haven't had the time or the means.

It's perfectly reasonable that you'd put your studies and social obligations before leisure time. He understands.

But hearing you so openly admit that you haven't seen a single movie since arriving in this world, let alone one of his, doesn't sit well with Vil Schoenheit.

As it turns out, the mythological being who doesn't spend their free time absorbed in media is real, and they're standing right in front of him with an apologetic smile.

Oh, you poor, poor thing.

Even after the conversation dies and you part ways on good terms, Vil can't shake this odd, itchy feeling.

He wonders what it must be like- not understanding anyone's references, being left out of conversations, still so dependent on a culture that doesn't even exist here.

Is there something wrong with the people you spend your time with? Surely at least one of them would take the time to show you the classics. Just one.

No wonder everyone regards you as naive and innocent. No one's taken the time to explain anything about this world to you. And he's sure that extends far beyond cinema...

"What is this?"

It's the first thing you ask when he opens the door to you. Ever curious, ever clueless.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he says, looking thoroughly unamused with your naivete.

A projector. A white screen. And a tray full of luxury skincare essentials that he'll be sure to test on you while you're distracted.

"Seriously," you say. "What's going on? Your message was really vague."

He sighs. "Oh, goodness, just come inside,"

Vil sits you down on the edge of his bed and hands you a plush headband to push your hair out of your eyes. He's more than pleased at your lack of protests thus far, and continues to take advantage of your willingness while smearing a sweet-smelling face mask over your cheeks.

"It needs to set before we start,"

"Start what?"

Vil smirks, standing and drifting across the room to a large wardrobe- no, a cabinet. He opens it- no, a shelf. Packed full of DVDs, arranged by date and in pristine condition.

"Wow, Vil. I never took you for a nerd,"

His gaze sharpens. "Hardly. And try not to talk so much right now, you'll crack the mask,"

He hums merrily, delicate fingers dancing over the smooth plastic cases before stopping at a soft white one. "This'll do,"

You watch as Vil returns to your side, carefully inspects your face, and then walks back around to tinker with the projector. You, of course, wait patiently, hands folded neatly in your lap as the screen ahead of you comes to life.

He turns off the lights and sits beside you as a white light illuminates your face, turning the hue of the mask a strange color.

"This is a classic," he whispers. "It's the first film I remember loving."

"It's that good?"

He chuckles. "No, it's quite outdated, and terribly unfunny. I'm just fond of it,"

If there's anything Vil Schoenheit is, it's honest. The entire black and white picture (which you surmise is quite old by Twisted Wonderland standards) is heaped with unfunny and confusing references, terribly paced, and acted like a primary school play.

And yet, there's a sense of warmth that permeates the external terribleness of it, that of which takes form in each of Vil's awkward laughs.

You revel in each of his little comments, his tidbits about the actors, his trivia about the production. He certainly seems to know what he's talking about, and his grace and confidence almost distract you from how nerdy he's really being.

Though, he's really not paying close attention to the screen. Vil seems far more interested in watching you, your reactions, almost as if searching for some kind of approval in the expressions you make. Do you laugh at this joke? Do you ask about this plot twist? Do you enjoy this song?

It's a completely alien experience, having him looking to you for validation, although you make sure to comment on how much you enjoyed yourself. Just to see him smile again.

"Same time next week, then," he says. "One movie won't be enough to catch you up on decades of pop culture, after all."

And thus, a tradition is born.

It's strange for him to think about how you've made yourself a home in his schedule. Wedged between expensive photo shoots and meetings with luxury brands, there's you. One single name in the same spot every week.

He couldn't admit it, but you've quickly become the highlight of his calendar.

"And this is just after they transitioned to movies with sound. It was a grand extinction event, not every studio nor star survived," he says, nodding to the screen ahead.

You hum in agreement. Your eyes are heavier than usual, and you're leaning against your elbow, absent-mindedly agreeing with everything he says.

A part of Vil wants to tease you for finding his taste in film boring, but he's not even sure if you have the mental capacity to listen to big words right now.

"Sleepy?"

"Grim kept waking me up last night..." you sigh. "I'm paying attention, I promise."

He watches you lie through your teeth, and then he watches as your words grow heavy and your body slumps over, awkwardly positioned against his.

Vil sighs- whatever is he going to do with you and that terrible sleep schedule of yours?- and readjusts so that your head is neatly set in the crook of his neck and your body is comfortably fit against his.

He finishes the movie, and lets the screen play the menu sequence over and over again. It's not really worth waking you up over, after all.

You're so cute when you're sleeping.

He hates himself for thinking that. You're perfectly inelegant- awkwardly breathing, practically drooling. And yet, he could stay here for the rest of the night and not wholly regret it in the morning. He just wishes you'd picked a better time to fall asleep on him.

Someday, he'd gladly return to bed to cuddle with you after he'd done his evening routine.

But... just this once, he'll let it go.

[socksracoon10]

Hi love here I come with my first spontaneous idea 🩷

Reader is the Commodore's sister but sick of the ways of society. When Jack saves Elisabeth, reader is the one who persuaded James not to kill Jack and also the one he happens to threat in order to escape. She’s somehow drawn to the Captain and later gives Will the keys to the cell to set him free. Jacks thoughts circle around her, too and they reunite when she swings last minute from the Dauntless over to the Interceptor to join the pirates making way❣️

Curious of The Seas

A/N: Literally fell in love with your ask oh my god, couldn't stop thinking about it before I began writing!! Thank you so much for this request! Pairings: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader, Will Turner x F!Reader (Platonic), James Norrington x F!Reader (siblings)

"Don't slouch, stand straight," Commodore Norrington hissed at you. You glared at your brother, curving your lips downward. You hated how strict and loyal he was to the British Crown and how he enforced his rules onto you, despite being his "precious baby sister." 

Your brother didn't hate you, but he sure did a good job of making you hate him. He was pacing his quarters back and forth, rehearsing what he would say to Miss Elizabeth Swann upon meeting her. You rolled your eyes at the pathetic scene, realizing that if your brother were to marry Miss Swann you were next on the list for the most eligible bachelorette in Port Royal. Your body cringed at the thought and you wriggled your back to shake off the eerie feeling crawling down your spine and focused on trying to ease your brother at the moment.

"James, there is no point in stressing over something as simple as this. Tell her you are in love with-" You began but frowned when he interjected,

"Love? Don't be ridiculous!"

"So, you're not in love with her?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, I very much am in love with her. But it is not proper for a man such as myself to say trivial things to the daughter of the Governor!" Your brother reasoned and you sighed in an exasperated tone, shifting your gaze out the window.

Elizabeth had stared at you with a quizzical look on her face when your brother and you had first approached her. You both shared the same expression of disdain for the situation. It was very clear to see that she was indifferent to your brother and surely was the very last man that she had any interest for. You, on the other hand, dearly loved your brother and wanted to save him from any heartache that she would cause him. You chewed your lip nervously, watching them exchange a few words of greetings before walking away. The commodore glanced over his shoulder, mouthing a few warnings to reign your behavior in for the biggest moment of his life before stalking away.

Huffing in annoyance, you picked the ends of your dress up and marched past the Governor who was just about to start a conversation with you. He awkwardly shut his mouth and watched you walk away to stand on the other corner of the pillar where your brother and Elizabeth stood. He leaned backward to get a good look at you, sending you another glare before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him with a nervous smile. You sighed, gazing out to the sea. Your brother had taken you once beyond Port Royal when you were a little girl and he swore it was something he very much regretted; all you could ever do since then was talk about sailing the seas. You desired to travel across the world, collect artifacts, and live a free life. Your brother scoffed at your desires, stating that he would rather die than see his little sister galloping around like a pirate of all creatures.

As you gazed out into the horizons with a look of yearning, you heard the loudest splash from below. Peering over the edges of the wall, you frowned at the ripples that seemed to bloom near the rocks and you instantly pulled back from your position and walked around to notice your brother screaming Elizabeth's name.

"What did you do?" You exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your grasp, beginning to take his coat off but you grabbed hold of him,

"The rocks, James! She's lucky that she didn't hit them on her way down! Come, we can reach her at the docks!" You urged him, yanking his arm. He seemed instilled with distraught, at a loss for words, "She must've jumped by your mere presence!"

Your brother sent you a nasty scowl and the playful smirk on your lips faded away instantaneously. You knew this was no joking matter; the poor woman could've died on her way down and she was to be betrothed to him anyway. As your brother scampered off with the rest of the guards, you found your feet rooted to the ground as you stared up at the sky. Something was amiss. The clouds darkened and circled about gravely, and the sea no longer held its silky blue blanket to comfort you. Before you could try and comprehend what must've occurred, you felt an urgent tug around your arms and you sharply turned to find yourself facing the Governor.

"Come now, my dear, you mustn't dawdle around when my daughter's life is in danger!" He exclaimed and you frowned at his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. Even if you wanted to help Elizabeth, there was surely no way you could swim into the waters with this puffy dress around you. You followed him down to the docks, pushing past the British officers to find yourself facing Elizabeth coughing up heaps of water from her lungs and then... a pirate.

With all the rifles surrounding him, you nearly thought they were aimed at your brother who stood in the way. You could only make out half his face, oblivious to the ensuing conversation that your brother was currently engaged in. You peeked around the Commodore's shoulder, carefully eyeing the strange man in your presence when his eyes flickered over to you for a sharp second before returning to your brother. Your breath hitched at the moment, taking in his disheveled and wet appearance as your brother remained as the shield between the man and you.

"He's a pirate," Your brother growled, his jaw clenching as he barked orders for his arrest. He ignored your gaping stare as he continued, "Sparrow, I assume?"

"Jack Sparrow?" You interjected, your mouth practically on the floor as you stared at him. The corner of the pirate's lips curved into a small smirk,

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," He smiled with a wink. You smiled back before your brother forcefully shoved you behind him once again. He made a mental note to have a discussion with you about your behavior as soon as you returned home. He took the pirate's belongings and derided him for his lack of proper weapons, but it bothered him so deeply that you were so enchanted by the man. It irked him to think that his sister would fall foolish to a PIRATE of all people. He forcefully grabbed onto Jack's arm and began dragging him off before you cut him off,

"James! James!" You cried out, and your brother halted in his tracks and sent you a menacing scowl.

"Not another word from you, (Y/N)." He hissed, and you scoffed before pulling your skirt up ever so slightly to march up to your brother,

"This man, pirate or not, has just saved your betrothed's life! I suggest you at least show some mercy upon him!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man's life of wickedness," Your brother corrected you as Jack was being handcuffed by a Redcoat.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack added, and you offered him a sympathetic look before turning to your brother with pleading eyes.

"Brother, please. I beg of you, consider an alternative for this man." You prodded him, as your eyes fell onto Elizabeth who smiled softly at your words.

"Please do so," Jack muttered, before dragging his bound hands around your neck. You gasped in response, tugging at the chains as your brother panicked.

"No one shoots!" The Commodore bellowed, holding his hands in the air, "Let go of my sister."

"Only if you return my belongings," Jack taunted with a haughty grin. He leaned closer to lowly utter into your ears, "You must be regretting your kindness, do you not?"

"I don't, but it seems that you'll regret it," You whispered, as you watched the guards hand in his belongings in a bundle. Jack nudged your back with his knee ever so lightly to grab hold of his things and you begrudgingly did so, before sharply turning around to face him.

"Now if you'll do me the pleasure... my, I don't think I know your name..." He said with a sly smirk. You frowned at him,

"It's Miss Norrington to you," You spat, placing his hat on. As you placed his sword, belt, and other personnel around him, you could feel his intense stare burning deep into you. If it was of lust or attraction, you did not know and at the moment did not necessarily care. Your mind was fixated on other things, and your brother was seething in rage as he watched Jack give him a look regarding your body against his that made him want to hurl. To think his sister was so close to a gruesome pirate! It was preposterous!

As you tied the last remaining string of his belt around him, you looked up at him with disgust. Not only was he a pirate, but this would be the talk of the town, and your brother's and your reputation would be spoiled. Your brother could easily regain his good fortune, but you were never as lucky. You hated the way the women would gossip and to think it was all spoiled over one man you decided to be too merciful with because your curiosity could not be controlled made you ready to commit arson.

"Is this how you repay me?" You hissed and the pirate smirked at your words,

"I saved your friend's life, and now you save me. Besides, you did after all wish for me to live. Now, suffer those consequences. When shall a beautiful lady such as yourself realize to never mess with a pirate?" He chuckled, before harshly turning you around with his gun aimed at your head. Your brother flinched at the sudden movement, making sure you were alright. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Jack Sparrow," The pirate's voice boomed from behind you and the very next second you found yourself thrust upon your brother and Elizabeth. As Jack Sparrow hurriedly began his escape, he did not fail to include a personal message from his heart, "Thank you very much, Miss Norrington. I shall not ever forget such kindness!"

And you weren't ready to forget him, either. It would be for another reason. As the night raged on with a surge of pirates infiltrating Port Royal, you felt a growing desire to do something about it. Your brother had joined the Governor for his safety and left you at home to be tended to by the maids. Upon realizing that the front door would burst open regardless of the circumstances, you quietly slipped out the window in your nightly attire and made your way to the blacksmith's quarters where you knew for a fact that your good friend Will Smith would be. Will and you had grown as siblings; he was there for you more than your brother had been. He had anticipated your arrival anyway but found himself in jeopardy when his ears gathered the news that Elizabeth Swann had been abducted by the pirates. He was pacing around when you arrived and he quickly latched onto your shoulders,

"They've taken Elizabeth! I tried my best but-" Will began but you silenced him, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"I know what you must be going through. But there is not enough time. I heard you helped imprison Jack Sparrow." You whispered and he nodded his head, eyes wide as he tried to make the best of the situation, "Come, I have the key with me, we can both interrogate him and seek his help." Your hand fell to his own and led him towards the streets.

"Wait a minute," Will stopped you, and with a glance over your shoulder you already knew what he was about to say. He was going to prevent you from going. "(Y/N), I know you've always wished to escape Port Royal, but I cannot bring harm to you once you step foot onto the waters."

"Will," You chastised him, "I am no longer a little girl. I am very capable of handling my own matters."

"You are inexperienced, that's all I can say." Will rebuked your claim and you gasped at his words, before furrowing your brows,

"So are you!"

"Ah, but I shall be bringing Sparrow with me to help find Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be so dull! I can help Sparrow and you as well. Do not prevent me from doing so! If it is out of fear that a pirate may do something towards a woman of my status, I assure you that no such thing will occur! If he dares to even look at me, I shall see to it that his eyes are gouged out by his blade!" You reasoned and Will took a step backwards, his lips parting in shock at your words. You had the spirit of a pirate in you that was for sure, and that was exactly what he feared.

"I cannot let you join. Your brother is... already facing loss," He replied in an awkward tone, considering how much he cared about Elizabeth, "He would be devasted to find you gone as well. Just stay put for now. I'm sure there shall be something more exciting for you in Port Royal."

You muttered a few unladylike curses under your breath and reluctantly offered him the key to the jail cell, "At least tell Sparrow that I was... delighted by his presence."

Will raised a suspicious eyebrow at your remark, unsure of how to respond. He nodded his head and then left you alone, as you brought your hands over your arms as your mind wandered towards the sea once again.

To say that Jack Sparrow was surprised by Will's statement regarding you would be an understatement. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you so willingly offered him the key to his escape, considering how he had humiliated your brother and especially you in front of everyone at the docks earlier in the day. He chewed his lip, his eyes dilating at the thought of you. The way you stared at him in defiance, your temples rising and falling with the way you clenched your jaw. Of course, who could forget the sensation of your fingers pressed up against him as you fastened his belt? As much of the ladies' man that Jack was, there was something different about you. You weren't like Giselle or Scarlet, complaining about superficial things or just merely trying to get into his pants. He could tell there was this curious spirit fighting to break free when he first laid eyes on you. The way you cautiously peered over your brother's shoulder had made him... well, he certainly wouldn't say his heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a silly little boy. He was a man! A grown man, a pirate! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mind you. And yet here he was, trying to justify to himself that what he felt for you was nothing more than just infatuation that would surely pass on.

But it didn't. It never did. While of course, his thoughts about stealing The Interceptor were his priority, he just couldn't stand still without his mind fleeting over to the very image of you, dressed in that regal bright blue gown and your hair all curled and pinned to form the most exquisite portrait of a woman he'd ever seen in his life. He smirked to himself at the thought of you, wondering what you must be doing at Port Royal at the moment. What if your brother had you married off to someone else? What if you were to live the rest of your life as a boring wife to an equally boring officer? He shook his head, wriggling himself free from those imaginative concoctions. He was a pirate, damn it. He had better things to think about than just a woman he had seen days ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Your brother grumbled as he pushed past you. You had boarded The Interceptor with him, not because you had wanted to - even though you took every chance out on the sea with gratefulness - but because your brother was so worried about the possibility of your abduction that he wished you were beside him at all times. Including those incredibly still moments of him gazing out into the sea. To him, he seemed to have an air of control, all the world's burdens upon his shoulder. This was his duty. When you gazed out into the sea, however, it was a plethora of possibilities. The unmarked territories you could claim, the desire for you to seek out treasure from all corners. You could be free. And no one would stop you. Save your brother, but that was something he'd always do anyway. Your attention focused on The Dauntless a couple hundred meters away as you noticed flocks of the British crew on small boats were paddling towards the ship you were in. Your brother gazed through his telescope and snarled at the sight, hesitantly passing the device for you to see as well. From afar, you saw Will Turner and... Jack Sparrow? The pirate? Both of them were flapping their arms around trying to make use of the mast. You guffawed at the sight, laughing at them. You turned to face your brother who quickly reminded you with his gaze about your behavior and you swallowed the amusement away as fast as you could.

The two ships - The Dauntless and The Interceptor - were locked horns now and your brother ordered you to come with him to board The Dauntless and put an end to Sparrow's madness. You reluctantly agreed, your eyes scanning around to see any sight of the familiar pirate you had so longed to see. 

"Search every cabin, every hull," Your brother barked, before turning back to you, "And you stay close to me. Do not go wandering about like a fool like you always do." 

You glowered at him, electing not to anger him any further as you stood on the deck. You watched him disappear among the surge of officers onto The Dauntless. You sighed, pacing back and forth when you noticed two men swing over to The Interceptor. It was Will and Jack.

Eyes widening in surprise, you tried to call attention to the situation but your cries fell on deaf ears. You stomped your foot and watched Jack cut off the rope ties, one by one. His gaze was fixed downwards until he looked up momentarily, and there you stood. He stood there for a few more seconds, completely surprised by your presence. Deep down, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that he would never see you again.

"What are you doing? Cut the rope!" Will cried out in confusion before he followed Jack's eyes to you. Jack looked upwards at the rope still connecting the two boats before turning back to you,

"Jump, Miss Norrington!" He instructed, and you stepped forward, holding onto a long piece of rope. Upon hearing your name, your brother rushed out of the Captain's Quarters, pushing past his men.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled, his eyes daring you to make another move. Realizing that this was the only opportunity to acquire what you had spent so long yearning for; the deep blue seas, the adventure, and the whimsical treasures, you sent him one final glance before running off the deck of The Dauntless and swinging onto The Interceptor. With the final rope now gone, and the ship sailing forward at full speed your brother looked at you as if you were dead to him.

When The Dauntless was far behind and there seemed to be no danger at the present moment, you walked towards your friend Will and the pirate beside him. Will seemed elated that you were there, and he hugged you so warmly that you nearly forgot that he was not related to you by blood. Releasing you from his arms, he sheepishly stepped aside as Jack Sparrow stepped forward.

"Miss Norrington, it is a pleasure to have you on board with us. I almost feared you might not have the guts to swing over," He teased, his hand graciously wrapping around your own as he kissed your fingers with such gentleness that it surprised you. You cracked half a smile at him, narrowing your eyes, before responding,

"You may call me (Y/N), and please, I never turn down an opportunity for adventure."

[sp4ceboo]

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also sterility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 [+ 𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥] 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: dean, sam, castiel, and gabriel

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: dance macabre—ghost

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧

• When Dean first meets you in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on a hunt, he's not surprised that you know his name

• Afterall, he has brought on the apocalypse more than once, and the hunter community isn't exactly known for its ability for people to keep their mouths shut

• What does surprise him, though, is your knowledge on him as a person

• It's nothing creepy— the thought of someone knowing all about him in that way brings him back to where he first met Becky through Chuck, and the thought makes him shudder —but just enough to where it's obvious you've done some digging and people reading of your own

• "Brought back some pie with dinner; didn't know what you wanted so I got apple."

• "Careful handling this case, it's got some nasty demons. We don't want you diving head first into hell. Again."

• "No no, don't use that. It didn't work on that shape-shifter you ganked last year in Massachusetts, so it won't work on this one. Throw it out." You eventually say one night while looking in Baby's trunk for some ammo, and Dean finally turns to face you

• "How did you know that? How do you know any of these things?" He clears his throat, squinting. You shrug with a barely there smile

• "Who do you think cleans up your messes when you're done, Dean? And what can I say. Word gets around."

• It's a simple case of Dean's reputation preceding him. Although, as you discover, there's a lot more to the Winchester than just his precious car, a strange love for greasy food, and his ability to fight off a demon with his bare hands

• "You sure you aren't obsessed with me? Because its totally fine if you're obsessed. I mean, look at me." Dean asks you at one point while gesturing down at himself. He's leaning on his car door in what he probably thought was a sexy manner, watching as you lugged some equipment out to the vehicle. You manage to press your lips together just in time to hide your amused grin

• "Keep dreaming, man." You shake your head. "There's a difference between reading up on people, and stalking them."

• "So you admit it?" He grins misheviously, pushing himself off Baby. "That you've spent your spare time thinking about me?"

• "Sure. And those witnesses never mentioned you'd be this insufferable." You scoff light heartedly, even though thats exactly what some of them said, and leave it at that. But for the rest of the hunt Dean can't stop elbowing you in the ribs to make a playful remark; something that, strangely, you don't find yourself minding

𝐒𝐚𝐦

• Unlike his brother, Sam takes the information that you practically already knew him with a bit of embarrassment

• Sure, he had been (or was supposed to be) Lucifer's vessel, and sure he also had a habit of being at the center of everything world ending, but he never really conciders him anyone other than a hunter that just happens to get the worst cases

• So when you just offhandedly started dropping these facts about him, he's a little off put

• "How'd you know that?"

• "You're literally one of the most infamous hunters to ever exist, Sam. You tangle with angels. Most of us only ever get to meet a werewolf or two before a friend is organizing our funeral the week after."

• "Oh. Right"

• Gets a little curious after a while as to what you exactly know. It's not like he keeps a journal about his feelings that the public can read, and that this point he's just praying you haven't discovered Chuck's Supernatural series, so he'd probably ask you all of what you know and why you know it

• "So you're telling me you've done research on our hunting styles—" Sam asks you while leaning forward. You nod, so he continues. "—and all the people we've ever pissed off?"

• "Call it too much free time, which I certainly don't have enough of these days, but I knew if I ever ran into you two knuckle heads, and I knew it would happen eventually whether I wanted it to or not, then I would need to be prepared." You dragged a hand down your face and exhaled for a moment. "That meant making a checklist of every vamp, demon, or god you've ever had out for your head. And trust me, it's a lot."

• He's silent for a moment after you finish, but it doesn't take long for him to pipe up again

• "Can I see it?"

• Safe to say, after seeing the list, Sam started to rethink some of his past decisions

• "Seriously, how are we not dead yet??"

• "Buddy, I have no idea."

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥

• He does not understand why you seem to know so much about him. Not only as a person, but as an angel

• Castiel is used to the Winchester's asking questions. The first year of knowing them was filled with 'How Did You Do That''s and 'Can You Do This''s. He'd answer all of them, even if he found their questions to be on a kindergarten level most of the time, until eventually they had no more to ask

• You hadn't been like that. Castiel doesn't think he could ever recall you asking him things unless they were about hunts or special circumstances, like the time Sam lost his soul. Hell, you seemed to know more about him than some angels knew about themselves

• Grace knowledge, wing anatomy, biblical lore—you name it and Castiel's probably heard it come out of your mouth at some point

• He gets around to asking you about it one day, albeit very bluntly

• "You don't ask questions." Castiels voice sounds from behind you. You don't even bother to turn around; you heard his wings flutter the moment before he dropped in

• "What do you mean Cas?" You sucked some air between your teeth as you scribbled away at the papers before you. It was something Sam had asked you to follow up on, and you'd been at it for a hot minute now. Hopefully you could make this conversation quick so you could get back to it

• "About angels." A beat of silence. "About me."

• This time you do turn around in your seat to look at him. He's already studying you with that silent squint, and you resist the urge to mirror it

• "Why would I ask questions I already know the answers to?" You parry. The case papers lay on the table, forgotten by now. Your response gets you a rare, but endearing, Cas head tilt

• Upon further questioning, he finds out you'd spent a lot of your early hunting years doing nothing but reading up on anything remotely supernatural. Even calling them 'hunting years' was a stretch. You were more like a crazed researcher that never left the library than a hunter, even resorting to keep mountains upon mountains of notes on ancient lore stored away in the margins of dusty books

• "That's certainly explains why you weren't surprised when we met for the first time and I healed you." Cas's low voice drawled slowly after you gave him a moment to interject. "Or how you knew the symbol for sending us back to heaven before Dean or Sam ever did."

• "Like I said." You smiled to yourself, and Castiel got the feeling he was missing a part of the joke. "Lots of reading."

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

• Do not bring up that you used to have an angel phase back in college. Under no circumstances should you reveal that. He will never let you live it down

• Especially if he finds out you used to study artwork and literature about him specifically

• It's all over the moment he finds your old school books. They're stuffed full of old crinkled pages with his name thrown in there. Of course, this was way back when the idea of angels being real was laughable to you and you still had dreams of graduating college, but that doesn't change to fact that the notes are there, and that Gabriel found them

• "Wait wait wait listen to this—" An old binder is clutched in the hands of a very amused and very heavenly being as he paces around your spot at a table. His eyes are skimming the pages as a speed quicker than light, and Gabriel's shit eating smile grows as he continues to read

• "The archangel Gabriel isn't depicted as much as his brothers Micheal or Lucifer in classic literature, but when he is, it is often as a symbol of great power and beauty—"

• "I'm going to kill you." You cut him off and groan with hot cheeks. Your hands had come up to cover your face a while ago in an attempt to keep what little dignity you had, but something told you it wasn't working

• "Glad to know you think I'm beautiful, sweet cheeks." Was all Gabriel said. You could hear the teasing lit in his voice. Sure enough, when you looked up to glare at him, he was already looking at you and wiggling his brows suggestively. It took you a total to three seconds to throw the closest thing at his head

• "Hey hey! Watch the beautiful goods!" He laughed while dodging a pencil. It his his chest anyway and bounced to the ground with a dull thud

• "Gabriel." Your tone was downright murderous

• "Okay, okay! I'll stop!"

• He does, in fact, not stop. Someone restrain him for the love of Chuck, for he is getting way too much enjoyment out of poking fun at you

• You're gonna have to avoid him for the next few weeks after that if you want to keep your embarassment levels to a minimum. No other way around it

• Let's just hope he never realizes you had to spend time in art class analyzing renaissance paintings of him in the nude. Now that would be the conversation to end all conversations

• "Heyyy, you never told me you had an art folder—"

• Oh shit.

[constantmourning]

Stress Relief

[Price/Reader/Soap/Simon]

Summary: Headcanons (almost an imagine) on sleeping with the three and how it turns out for you!

Warnings: Minors DNI! NS/FW, 18+!, M/M/M/F, Foursome, not too descriptive but still nasty, let me know if I forgot something! (haven't done this in a while)

A/N: This is my first time writing for these guys! I hope you enjoy! I'm still getting a hang of these characters but I had this idea so I went with it. I kinda fucking ran with it actually... Hope you all enjoy. Kinda wanna make it a full blown fic.

It started with Soap. Really, you didn't think it'd go much further.

You were sleeping together most every chance you got. To the point where Soap started to brag about his nights he'd spend with you to TF141.

Price began probing about who, genuinely curious. Soap would never say your name. However, you gave yourself away after a briefing and heard Price being curious about who had Soap acting that way.

"It's me." You walked up and smiled at Price. Soap was slightly shocked you had given yourself away. And was even more shocked with the next thing you said. "If you ever wanna feel just as great, give me a call." You winked at him.

Soap wasn't jealous by any means, in fact sharing you with Price was something he really didn't mind. He had not expected you to be okay with it though.

So, you started sleeping with Price.

Soap and Price were much different lovers in the best way possible. You would spend the night with Soap, him going absolutely feral over you. Then you'd spend the next night with Price. Who was not as ravenous, but just as passionate.

This went on for a couple weeks. Just you, Price, and Soap. Never had the three of you fucked at the same time. But Price had plans to change that. And Soap had something up his sleeve as well.

"Soap." Price had approached him a questioning look. "I have a question."

"Good, just who I was looking for," Soap smirked, "'cause I do too."

You were in your room when a knock came from the door. It was a free night, neither Soap nor Price were supposed to come over, so you weren't sure who the knocking could be.

When price and soap entered your room as soon as you opened your door you grew hot. "you're both here?"

"We have a proposition." Price seemed serious but Soap seemed too excited to be serious.

They both stood in front of you, so you could assume what it was. "threesome?"

Soap shook his head, and held up four fingers. Your brows knitted together and you cocked your head. Before you could say a word your door pushed open further and you turned around. Your heart jumped into your throat.

The man you had found the mysterious since coming onto base was standing there. Simon 'Ghost' Riley. You swallowed hard turning towards Price and Soap.

"Is this a joke?" No way was Simon joining in...

"No, love," Simon grunted, "it isn't. Soap 'ere won't shut up about you, so I thought I'd see what the raving was about."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Had Soap been seeing how you were staring longingly at Simon? Yes, yes he had.

"Is this okay?" Price asked. Soap and Simon waited on your answer. When you nodded, things were most definitely getting loud.

You thought Soap and Price were great? It is Simon's mission to show you how much better he is at everything.

Soap amazing at eating you out? Simon is going to one up him. Price really good at taking his time fucking you? Simon is going to show you just how much time he can to take care of you.

They let Simon do whatever he wants, Price and Soap just watching (and jerking it). But after Simon experiences you for himself, they decide to all have a go at it.

They take turns teasing you and eating you out. Seeing just how far you could go before they get down to business.

You're sandwiched between three very strong men and its very hot.

Soap is a freak (enduring) and loooooves watching Simon's large form pressing against yours while Price takes you from behind.

The guys don't leave without their dick getting sucked.

You are almost crying (positive) after they're done with you.

Super duper big on aftercare. Simon carries you to the bathroom. Soap would literally give you a bath if you wanted/needed. Price is telling you how good you were. All of them are the best...

At the end Price is ready to ask for this more often. It's a nice stress reliever for everyone. He may even ask if the others could join, for team bonding. Only if you're comfortable of course.

[deer-knight]

it's 2024 you know what that means: time to stop shaving massive swaths of your body! listen. cmere. listen to me. if you're someone who regularly shaves your legs/armpits/arms/groin/etc. this is it. this is your sign.

now listen. i know. it feels so nice and smooth! you rub your legs together like cricket! swish swish! listen to me - have you ever fully let yourself have body hair? i mean it. fully let your hair grow until it doesnt grow any longer?

let me tell you something - i am a texture-sensitive being. truly. i was also someone who had to shave my legs daily if i wanted to give the illusion of a creature that doesn't have leg hair. and the fresh shave smoothness was nice! and the scratchy nonsense that started poking through at the end of the day was terrible! it also sucked to torture my skin this way all the time. i have thick, dark hair. and everyone would be on my case about it - my mother, sister, grandmother, kids at school or summer camp. "you missed a spot!" i banish you to the shadow realm.

beyond just knowing that the beauty standards of the world we live in are fucked, consider this an opportunity to just be curious about your body. it's 2024! gender is dead! humans often are covered in hair! its normal! people might give you a hard time about it. the best we can do is ignore them, if they are not the sort to see it as an opportunity to learn.

when i started wearing my unshaved legs bare i was so nervous. and after i made it clear to the people who would have bothered me about it that i wasn't going to bend to their expectations, nobody has really mentioned it. i've had kids ask why i have hair in my armpits or on my legs, because they don't have filters and are curious about their world, and i just say that its normal to have hair or to not have hair, for all people of all genders.

it takes a little bit of time to adjust to the feeling and texture. this much is true. but oh my gosh, i beg of you to try. even if you think you wont get over the sensory nightmare of the initial scratchiness. i haven't shaved in 7, 8 years now, and my hair is still thick and dark but the texture has softened so much, and i love the swish of hair on my legs, in my armpits, all over. i'm not on testosterone or anything, i'm just a hairy creature. y'all, it's so beautiful. it keeps me warm! it's soft in a different way - i can even condition it if i want extra softness! its an incredible texture, and i'm so grateful i let my body be the way it's always wanted to be.

it's 2024. you don't have to shave anymore. if you've been thinking about it, now's the time. free yourself. doesn't matter your gender or sexuality or anything. it doesn't make you less feminine, it doesn't make you less refined, it doesn't make you less sexy or less lovable or anything like that. anyone who says different isn't worth your time.

been wanting to make this post for a while now. your body is yours, and you can let it be as hairy as you like <3

[queenuchiha89]

hello! love u! would you pretty please consider writing itachi violently non conning his younger sister after an argument when they're home alone but teen sasuke returned early from his mission with team 7? sasuke loves his big sis but he doesn't really help her, incredibly liking the sight of his sibs together.

*** NSFW ***

*** 18+ MINORS DNI! ***

*** TW. DARK CONTENT ***

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ this story contains noncon, foul language, incest, voyeurism, and other themes that may not be suitable for some audience. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Itachi and his little sister Y/N had been at each other's throats all day long. Their parents were gone, Sasuke was off on an assignment with team 7 and every time Itachi and Y/N were alone, they always seemed to fight. "I'm so sick of you acting like you're better than everyone else in the family Itachi! You really look down on me and Sasuke!" She yelled at him as he turned to walk off towards his room in an effort to end the argument before I went too far. She watched him as he walked off, her arms folded, cheeks red in anger and frustration. Why he couldn't just... Be nice to her?! "You're just like Father..." She mumbled under her breath, but with his hearing and skill, of course itachi heard her. He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning his attention back towards his little sister at the opposite end of the hall. "What did you say Y/N..?" Itachi asked, his voice low and flat with a different kind of angered tone she had never before heard come from her older brother.

The color began to drain from Y/N's face as he swiftly began to walk towards her, and she had no time to attempt to block herself from any actions he may have took on her. He was far too fast, and she knew it. He grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around, and pinning her body to wall. All his weight was against her as she struggled helplessly to escape his grasp. "If you think I'm like father, then I will show you just how cruel Father really is!" He said viciously, his rage boiling over as her words echoed in her head. He spun her around, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her into his bedroom kicking and pleading for him to let her go. "Itachi stop! Let me go!" She screamed but to no avail. No one was around to hear her.

Itachi yanked Y/N up by her hair, and threw her on to his bed, wasting no time climbing on top of her. He pinned her arms down to the bed, and watched with a smirk as she kicked and flailed trying to get him off of her. "Itachi please!! Stop!" She cried out realizing that this was not a good situation to be in. She was in serious danger. Tears began to stream down her face, as all hope of her escaping his clutches left her. He was far too strong for her to over power, and all she could think to do was plead her case. "Itachi I'm sorry! Please, I didn't mean it!" She cried, and whimpered under him, powerless to stop his vicious assault. "Too late for apologies princess. You're going to take your medicine!" He growled as he gripped her throat in his hand, squeezing and watching her eyes widen in fear as she felt her airway closing in his grip. She gasped and choked as she struggled to break free of his grip, this only excited Itachi more.

While all this was going on in the Uchiha family household, Sasuke had returned from his mission earlier than expected, and was about open the front door and announce his arrival. However, as he entered, he stopped before calling out hearing strange sounds coming from upstairs, and what sounded like the voices of his elder siblings. Curious as to what could be going on, and getting an ominous feeling that something was definitely wrong, he slowly made his way up the stairs. He walked down the hallway, inching ever closer to Itachi's room- the origin of the sounds- and when he looked inside he was frozen in shock by what he saw. There was his older brother Itachi, pinning his big sister beneath him, fingers round her throat and her face turning a bright red color. "I-itachi? Y/N???" He whispered to himself, a strange fear creeping up this spine.

Itachi reached down between them, and fumbled with his pants as he removed his thick cock from his pants. Y/N wriggled harder as she saw her older brother's sizeable cock spring free from his pants and slap against her inner thigh. "You're going to take every last inch of my cock, and you're going to like it!" He threatened, as he held her still, and positioned himself against her open. "Are you- are you enjoying this??" Itachi said feeling how wet her pussy was in the moment. "You twisted little bitch..." He grunted as he pushed his cock deep inside her tight cunt. She cried out in pain as itachi stretched out her tight walls, feeling him rip her as he did. Sasuke watched in horror as Itachi raped their sister, watching his big sister's face contort in pain as he forced his cock inside her. It was awful... But he still couldn't look away, and as Itachi began to fuck into their sister, he felt a twinge of something else begin to rise up from within him.

Y/N took every inch of her big brother's cock, her body shivering in pain, and then in an unwilling pleasure as he continued his vicious assault. Itachi could feel her walls gripping around his cock, and knew she was about to cum against her will. "That's it. Don't fight it, just let this happen. Doesn't your big brother feel so good fucking you?" Itachi teased making her feel ashamed. With a gasp, and a small cry that sounded more akin to a cry of grief than pleasure, her walls gripped around his cock, and she came for him, shame filling her being as she did. "That's it, cum for me. Fuck little sis, I'm going to fill up that tight little pussy." Itachi growled as his thrusts became more erratic. With one final thrust, Itachi grabbed his little sister's hips and held her still as he shot his hot potent Uchiha cum deep inside her fertile womb.

From the hallway, Sasuke watched. Helpless, but achingly hard inside those shorts of his. He watched as his big sister was forced to cum all over Itachi's cock, and pumped full of his seed. Without warning, Sasuke's cock twitched, and he gasped steadying himself by grabbing the door frame as he came in his pants. The sight of his older brother viciously taking his big sis was far more than he could handle. Itachi caught his breath before giving his little sis a kiss on the forehead, and putting his cock away. "Maybe next time you'll learn to quit while you're ahead..." Itachi said cruelly as he reached for the towel on his bedroom floor. "Go clean yourself up princess..." He said before turning towards the cracked door. "You too Sasuke..."

A.N: spelling errors, and other such typos will be corrected when I am able. In the meantime, have fun and enjoy responsibly! 🥰

[save-the-villainous-cat]

jaded villain, optimistic hero. PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

"I am not sure what to make of this," the villain admitted.

"I am not really either," the hero said. They let their head sway a little, as so often when they tried to think.

"It's not going to work," the villain said. They took a sip of their coffee and stared out of the window of the diner. It was foolish to assume the hero hadn't known about the villain's favorite place to have breakfast. It was foolish to assume that the hero didn't know anything about them.

The villain wasn't sure what the hero knew about them exactly - that was probably the most dangerous thing about them. The hero could gamble with information, could intimidate people without lifting a finger.

They could get what they wanted when they wanted and how they wanted.

Violence wasn't something the hero avoided but rhetoric was clearly their preferred method of crushing their enemies.

"Why do you think that?"

"You and I...we are just not really made to pose as a couple, are we?"

"Why not?" the hero asked. Their eyes found the villain. Tired eyes finding tired eyes. Given the hero's careful handling with words, the villain was surprised that they had told them a few weeks ago probably the most personal thing the villain would ever get out of them.

I am tired, they had said. I am very tired.

Looking back at the amount of people the hero had arrested this month, that statement was total bullshit. But the villain liked to think that the hero hadn't lied about it.

"Look at yourself. The way you carry yourself alone is totally different from mine. One might think you're military. I look like I crawled out of a dumpster."

"I don't see why two people like that shouldn't be acquainted," the hero said. They shrugged and tilted their head. "Or in love."

"Well..." the villain took another sip of coffee, "I just don't think it is very convincing. Why should someone like you be with someone like me? I doubt I can change my entire personality for one of your missions."

"You're not supposed to change your personality. In fact, I need you to be you." At that, the villain raised a curious brow and the hero kept holding eye contact like a predator eyed its prey. "Your thinking pattern is structurally different from mine. I need you to go through blue prints and codes with me. I need you to steal information and objects if necessary. I need you to kill if you have to. You can do all of this. I can trust you."

"That doesn't mean we look convincing as a couple," the villain said. They looked at the unfinished bagel the hero wasn't interested in anymore and then back at their own empty plate. A sleepless hero was a careless hero.

And a hungry hero was a dangerous hero.

The villain wasn't sure if the hero was a workaholic or if their boss was overworking them. Either way, there was no reason to skip meals and sleep.

"We have known each other for a long time. I know your weaknesses, you know mine. It would include more...touching for sure. But even that is something we have done for quite some time now, isn't it? You don't break someone else's ribs by simply staring at them from afar," the hero said. They took their bagel and stared at it lovelessly. "I am pretty sure I have touched every part of you by now, even if it was accidental."

"Hm." The villain stared out of the window, dully noting the three black vans with men in suits sitting in them, observing the diner. So what if it was actually pretty easy to pretend to be the hero's lover? What then? "It doesn't feel like I have much of a choice."

"I don't mean it to come across like that. You are my first choice for this mission. I know your loyalty knows boundaries and I respect that. I know your services are not for free and I don't have a problem with paying you handsomely. Working with you is easy," the hero explained. They put the bagel on the villain's plate and the villain was fully aware that the hero tried to manipulate them.

"You mean because I follow your commands blindly?" the villain asked. "Last time I did that, I got shot. Now, you want to work with me again. I wonder if that is desperation or if the people who work for you are simply incompetent."

"Compared to what we are able to do together, everyone I work with is incompetent." Despite the manipulative intention, those were sweet words.

The villain smiled.

"That is...somewhat flattering?" The villain took the bagel and turned it in their hand. "My shoulder still aches. Who guarantees that you will have my back this time?"

"I..." Suddenly, the hero didn't look as calculated. They weren't even close to the indifferent business expression they usually put on when they were talking about a deal. Usually, the villain did not talk to the hero with the intention of hitting nerves. It usually never worked out. "I apologized for that already. I sent flowers. It was a mistake. I got distracted. This time, I will protect you. I will put it in the contract, I promise. I will do my best to shield you."

Getting distracted was an interesting way of describing throwing up during a mission.

"I can protect myself. I am simply questioning if you are in the best shape for a two week mission. That's all." The villain leaned back in their seat and studied the hero. To some degree, everyone was pretending to have their shit together and most of the time, the villain was able to see the cracks.

But the hero had never cracked. Had never come close to imperfection except for this. The lack of sleep and food.

The villain doubted anyone would notice. The hero was incredibly untouchable in their line of work. Barely anyone they worked with knew anything about them — just like the villain in the beginning and still, every now and then.

They stared at the hero. At those eyes and that mouth. That nose and those teeth.

"You don't have to concern yourself with that," the hero said. "I promise I will do my best to keep you unharmed."

The villain took in a deep breath.

Fuck it.

"Fine. I'll see you Monday, then?"

"Yes, I will pick you up," the hero said. They were grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Thank me later."

The hero nodded eagerly and stood up, took the villain's hand to shake it but they did not expect the villain to tie them to the bed of the hotel room a week later while the villain was the one to carry out most of the mission for them.

[georgiapeach30513]

How I'm Looking at You, Part 3

Summary: it's becoming too much, and you're learning so much.

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, first orgasm, jealousy, fingering, dry humping, mild imagines of breeding kink, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Taking a deep breath, you lift another spoonful of the coffee soup to your lips before letting the spoon fall back in the glass with a clash. Eyes going wide as you read through the words quickly, and turn the page. The English are a different breed of people, but you have found yourself more and more immersed in their literature. Getting to a better stopping point, you dip a piece of the bread in the soup, and look towards Ari.

He’s staring directly at you. Those crystal blue eyes of his rakes over your face curiously as if he’s studying you. As if you are the most interesting thing in the world. An abandoned newspaper beside his breakfast, but how could you be more interesting than whatever was in that?

Clearing your throat, you turn your gaze back to the book, and read nothing. You can still feel his warm and curious eyes as you try to breathe. Just breathe. Going to the swimming hole has lit something in you. Something deep within your body, and it is purely physical. You want him. You want him like the characters in your books, and that just brings on even more questions.

Questions that have you fearing their answers. Was Ari even aware of the books he had given you to read? Was that his plan all along? Because there is something stirring, and you don’t know how to deal with it. Between him and what you’re reading it’s becoming too much. It fizzles lower than your belly, and you have a feeling that Ari is the only one that can fix it.

Ari shifts in his chair, and you look over towards him. If he wants your attention, he can have a bit of it. You’re almost too embarrassed and scared to give him your full attention. “I want to apologize for the other day?”

“Apologize?” You ask a bit confused. What exactly is he apologizing for? And why was the fact that he was apologizing and admitting he did something wrong — desirable? Men around here were right, and you were just to accept it.

“For the swimming hole,” you nod once, your vision turning to an odd scratch in his table. Your father would have already had that buffed out. “I think things got a bit heated, and if I crossed the line, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t. Not really,” you gulp as you try and find the words. These books have been giving you so many new words that you aren’t sure if you can or should put them into a sentence. But there is one thing that seems to be common amongst the women, “It’s just so fast. And it’s overwhelming and I don’t know how to deal with what I’m feeling,” that didn’t sound too bad.

“What exactly are you feeling?” He adjusts his seat. Putting his forearms onto the table, while he leans forward. Giving you more attention than anyone else ever has, “If you’re comfortable,” you shake your head quickly, and he smiles. He has a pretty smile. A smile that you can feel radiate all the way to your toes, and that makes no sense at all.

“We should go swimming again,” you look at him, a smile creeping up on your face. “If-if you want to, that is. I can get you a bathing suit, and you can feel free to ask me anything. I could be like an open book, if you will.”

“Anything?” He whispers out, yes, and you let those words sink a moment before nodding, and picking your book back up. You read a paragraph about fifteen times without even absorbing what the words mean. But you have to quit looking at him. You have to keep him off your mind, while you try not to explode.

Anything. Anything that you can come up with, he’s willing to answer. You need to gather your thoughts, and think about what you would like to ask him. What if you irritated him to the point that he didn’t want to answer questions anymore? You had to make these questions count for something.

Ari is a strange character. He’s intense in ways that your community isn’t. Here the men just had a stern hand. They walked around being able to do what they wanted to because they were men. They just had to stick to the Amish ways, or at least not get caught. Judging by the church service over the weekend, people are having the same thoughts about you.

You could hear the whispers, and the backwards glances. Gossiping is a sin. Ari is your friend though. He doesn’t talk about you, he talks with you. A worldly man, and he gave you his undivided attention, and even his touches.

And why shouldn’t you be friends with Ari? It’s not like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. You’re enjoying time with him, and learning from him. That’s more like a teacher. Except — Ari doesn’t look anything like the teachers you grew up with. He’s tall, large, and thick, and he makes your body ache in weird ways. You’re sure he’s not feeling the same way as you, so it’s best to keep these feelings suppressed.

But these stupid books are not helping. There’s something within them that just makes sense. They’re answering and describing a lot of things you’ve been feeling, but how does one know if your teacher is feeling the same way? How do you know if Ari is just as much of a knotted up mess as you are?

“So,” Ari starts, whatever his train of thought was, depleting. He’s not usually one to be shy, that’s typically you.

“What?” Laying your book down, you smile up at him. “Ari, what is it?”

“If I ask, you have to promise to not get mad,” now what is he up to that would make you get mad?

“I thought we were friends?”

“Yes!” His shout makes you flinch, and you giggle at your silly reaction. “I’m sorry, but yes, we’re friends. And I’m only trying to help you out. I took a guess at…your size of bra.”

“Oh,” your eyes fall back to the table. You had read about bras. There’s no way that the scratch on the table are as exciting as you’re making it. But looking at Ari is almost painful, “You know everything I wear, I’ve made myself, right?”

Ari inhales deeply, his own eyes looking at the odd mark on the table now. He actually didn’t know that, and now he fears he’s overstepped his boundaries. You like to think the scratch resembles an upside down J, but more rounded instead of a straight like. “Do you know what a bra is?”

“Essentially, yes. But,” your cheeks flare up with embarrassment, but you refuse to let this be another moment of trying to run away from him. It’s all you feel you’re doing, running away. You stand your ground of being present with him. “I don’t wear one.”

“Do you want to? Or have I gone too far??”

The women in the books all wear bras, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to experience some of the moments in the books. Unable to answer, you just nod your head. “Do you know how to put one on?”

“I think I can figure it out. Were you about to offer to help me?” This is very much the flirting that the books talk about. His crooked little grin goes wider across his face, and his cheeks flame up. Turning rosy while you can’t stop smiling. It feels good not to be the only one that has this rumbling in your stomach.

“I may have,” his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. “I got you some panties, and they had a matching set with the bras, and…I don’t know, I figured you might like them? They’d be pretty on you,” He’s thoughtful, if not a shameless flirt. But still it feels nice to be seen, and thought of. “I’ve heard that it can make a woman feel sexy even if nobody sees it.”

Ugh, that gross feeling settles in your craw. Anger is not becoming of an Amish woman, but this doesn't feel like anger. It feels disgusting, and it hurts. You can nearly feel it blooming outwardly in your body, and you only want him to see you in your underwear. Nobody else. You want him to stop talking about other women, even if he’s had them. You want to be the only woman on his mind.

“Maybe they can show you what it looks like then?” His brow cocks up, and you push your chair back with a loud squeak. “I think it’s time for you to get to work.”

“Are you — jealous?” His words halt you in your tracks as you purse your lips. “Darling, there is no other woman in my life but you.”

“But there was, and I don’t much like hearing about them,” of course he couldn’t understand the feeling. You are pure, while he has had others.

“They were in the past, and…”

“And did they show you their panties as well?” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Contemplating the best way to proceed. “I see. I’m assuming they also have mated with you.”

“You are jealous,” his words are flat, and if they were mocking you, you might not feel as angry as you do right now. “There’s nothing to be jealous about.”

“How can I be something I don’t even understand what it means? Ari, you should really go outside, and start your chores for today, while I start mine,” what you really want is for him to leave you alone while you’re left with the debilitating thoughts that won’t stop pounding through your mind.

He sighs, pushing his chair back as he goes to stand. Staring at you while you look at anything that isn’t him. The burning sting that you feel oozes into you, and makes you feel weak and filthy. You hate it, and you hate when he does that to you.

“You’re right, Darling. I’m sorry,” what he’s apologizing for, you aren’t sure, but it doesn’t fully quell the sludge bubbling in your stomach. “I figured the bedroom upstairs could be yours,” that came from nowhere. You study him as he fights for the words to say next.

“Maybe you should look in the drawers. You’re doing a great job here, and I can’t thank you enough. Take some time off today,” you start to object. Blubbering through words, but his calloused finger presses up against your pouty lips, and you’re stunned into submission.

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling smaller than you actually are. He’s massive. His size always seems to make you feel like a child. “There’s less to do here because it’s just me. As your employer, I am telling you to take it easy today. Do I make myself clear?” Your throat is dry, almost on the verge of hurting as you nod your head. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so what are you supposed to do? Continue to argue and lose? No. You’ll just accept his warning.

“Everything in that room is yours,” he says with finality as he stalks to the door, and out for the day.

You’re left reeling. Playing over every word said this morning while you try and figure out all that is happening. Big strong Ari makes you very weak in the knees, and wet. That’s what the books say, and that is what you feel. The books have a perfect way of explaining the things that are going on in your hidden areas.

These feelings you can’t explain, but the books do. But what they suggest to take care of those feelings seems forbidden. Gathering up your current book, you lift your skirts a bit as you walk up the stairs. Counting each one on the way up. Fifteen. Fifteen steps until you reach the top landing.

Journeying down the hallway, you stop and take a peek in the first room. Ari’s. He actually made the bed today, but didn’t close his drawers all the way. He told you not to work today, but you can’t let those drawers stay open, so you take a few steps to it, and close them. Looking out the window you see him squinting up at the house before he smiles, and looks back at Jacob and the other two boys.

He saw you in his room. You had no business being in here, and you wonder if he’s going to punish you for not listening to him. It didn’t matter. What’s done is done, and you’ll accept whatever punishment he deems fit. You’ll just go to your room, as Ari called it.

It’s prettier than his. Showing oddly feminine furniture that are a bit too decorative to be Amish, but you like them. Love them actually. Love the way the intricate golden vines sprawl out over the sturdy wood, but it’s inside that has got you curious. You walk over to the window, and see Ari smiling at you again. Tipping his hat before you close the curtains.

Is he watching you? Waiting to see what you think of this bedroom? Or even what’s in the closet and drawers? Which makes you wonder, what exactly is in there. Opening the door to the closet, you take a step back as your eyes flick over the frocks. So many colors. And fabrics. Tags on them let you know that they weren’t made by someone, but you adore them all the same.

Pulling out on dress, you flatten it over your body, and turn to look at a floor length mirror, that definitely isn’t Amish. Vanity is a sin. But peering into the looking glass you get the appeal. You run your fingers over the lavender material as you swish around. Trying to get a feel of what it would look like on your body before you lay it on the bed.

You should try it on. But first where are the bras, those sets, that Ari spoke about. You go to the dresser, and open up a drawer. Smiling when you see the multitude of colors and materials in there. They were beautiful. It’s one thing that truly bothered you about your community, they want to praise God because of the beauty he created, while you are left to mope around in drab tones.

Don’t bring attention to oneself. But this would be under your clothes and only you and Ari would know. These are things you would be proud to show him, and even tell him how pretty they make you feel. You choose a pretty pale pink set. The bottoms have a bit less material than what you have been wearing. But the top looks so fresh and light that you need it on your skin. And then you can try on the dress.

Maybe even show Ari, and ask what he thinks. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you put the pieces on. Spinning and turning to admire the way they fit on your body. How they hug your curves, and lift your breasts. Your fingers tickle over the cups, and your body jerks back at the sensation. That…that was a lot for very little effort. It’s only partially of how Ari makes you feel. He has you wound so tight that it’s sometimes difficult to breathe.

He makes you feel like your skin is on fire. That your blood is so hot and boiling that it physically turns your body into a furnace. Every time. The serious tone, and the way he looks at you with those pouting eyes. The intensity you feel between the two of you swells, and you need something. The books make that something seem easy, but the way you feel, and what you have been taught is anything but simple. It’s a sin. A loathsome and filthy sin. But why does his smile and touch make you feel good?

It’s something that could get you shunned out of your community. Something that nobody even talked about. It’s to be had, but kept secret. You’ve read enough in the books to know it’s not just breeding, although that seems to be a colorful time. But a pleasure that takes you out of your body and puts you into an out of body experience. You just had to ask Ari a few things about parts, and what they actually mean, and do. Maybe you’d ask him to go back to the swimming hole. You could have a picnic dinner planned, and you are not going to run away. You’re going to force yourself to stay, and learn.

“Fuck,” you hear an angry growl coming from the front door, and make your way down the stairs. His arms flail around on the porch as he removes his shirt. Legs dancing around and stomping on the shirt before he comes inside.

Welts form on his body as he starts swatting his thick chest, and you rush to him, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his words stop immediately when he sees you. Sorrowful for saying that word in front of you, but the pain overtakes him as he groans, swatting at his chest again.

“Your hurt,” that much is obvious as you look over his skin. “Let me wash my hands. Yellow jackets?”

“Yeah,” his voice is strained as he follows you into the kitchen. “What do I need to do?” You give him a point to the chair, and he follows your lead. Mixing up a little concoction, you grab a towel, and kneel between his legs.

Your soft and delicate hands move over his ample chest. Stopping on each welt to make sure you remove every stinger. You can’t look up at him, but feel his eyes never leave yours, “What happened?”

“I was actually plowing, and ran right into a nest. There’s none on my back. They got in the front of my shirt, Darling,” he wants to plead to you not to get off your knees. To stay there while he has the most intrusive impure thoughts about you. You gulp, reaching up to the table, and grab your little bowl.

“It may sting a bit,” whispering as you press a hand on his broad chest. His heart is beating just as fast as yours, an he leans back, so you can lift up off your haunches. Forgetting what it is you’re supposed to be doing as you watch the rise and fall of his body. He’s beautiful, and it’s suffocating to think about how close you are. How you can still feel the heat of the sun on his skin.

“What is that?” He asks with a smile, and you remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing. Gathering up a little bit of the paste, you smooth it over the first sting, and he hisses. Everything in your body buzzes as you rub it into another sting. “Darling? You okay?”

No, you’re not, but you nod because it’s the safest thing as you spread out the salve right beside his nipple. Your eyes roll up to meet him, and you freeze. The way he is staring at you seems just right. Your body is on fire, but it doesn’t feel sinful. “I-i-i-it’s meat tenderizer,” you sound like the girls who have a boy courting them, and you can’t make the silliness stop.

“What?” The rumble of his chuckle vibrates straight to your core, and you clench your thighs together trying to make it stop. How does a laugh send sensations there? Everything Ari does makes the central area of your body fill with need. Feel the need for him to do something. Anything.

“It works, doesn’t it?” There’s heat coursing through you to Ari. Spreading between the two of you, and you can’t make things move. Your hands fall to his thighs, and you whimper at the feeling of the cords of muscle that make up the majority of him. He’s big everywhere. You just know it. The books said as much, but you don’t dare ask a question about those areas.

His mouth turns up into a soft grin as he leans forward. Inching closer and closer to you, and you’re immobilized, but not by fear. Whatever is happening you pray that it happens faster. The way that your body bends into his, curving at your back, and you look up at him.

Ari licks his lips, and lifts a hand under your chin. Holding you in place, and placing you how he wants you. His lashes splay over his cheeks as he takes a quick glance to your lips before closing his eyes, and you copy his movements. Primed and ready for his lips to brush softly against yours, and he intakes a long breath before you pucker out your own, and he gently and tenderly presses against your plump lips.

His tongue tickles on the pillows of your mouth, and they part on their own accord. Your taste buds are assaulted with the tangy taste of tea. Trying to taste more, your tongue darts out, tasting his tongue, and those thick arms wrap around your body, lifting you higher up. Swallowing every shallow breath, and every whimper that escapes you.

The two of you melt into one another. Nothing has ever felt like this, and that fuzzy feeling spreads in your belly. No lower. “Ari,” you say his name breathlessly as he gulp for air. Your lungs pain with the wide spread of oxygen, and you still hunger for Ari. He pulls you up into his lap. Refusing to remove his mouth from you, and his hands explore the curves that your dress always hides.

Kissing from your lips, down to your jaw as your body starts to rock into him. Movements you’ve never made before, and you want more. He takes his mouth to your neck, giving the sensitive column a little nibble, and you yip. Mewling out his name, and he smiles on your skin, “You like that?”

You don’t have time to ask him to make the buildup inside of you stop because the front door slings open, and booming steps walk towards the kitchen, “Ari, you…” you stand up quickly from his lap, and smooth down your skirts, shamefully looking away from Jacob. Your whole body spinning around while Ari sits in the chair nonchalantly with his legs spread wide. Both arms rest on his legs, while his hands hang over his crotch. Hiding the effect you had on him.

“Are you okay?” Jacob looks between the two of you, and you walk over to the empty sink. Staring into the porcelain like your vision can manifest dirty dishes. Don’t look at him. Don’t speak to him. He is Amish, and you’re now alone with two men. “I came to check on you. Jedidiah said you came in here cursing up a storm. We don’t like to hear such things, but for the women, especially.”

“Jacob, I’m fine. Um…meat tenderizer, does the trick every time,” Jacob looks between the two of you as Ari stands from the chair. Towering over Jacob, “Don’t barge into my house. Okay?”

“Was she…?”

“She was tending to my stings, and now I feel brand new. I’ll meet you back outside,” Jacob’s dark green eyes look over to your back, and you keep staring at the overly clean sink. Why did you have to be so sufficient? “I’ll be out shortly, Jacob.”

The boy gives a nod to Ari, and reluctantly walks away. Trying to think of any kind of scenario that could explain the quick movement that he witnessed. But Ari can only think of you. Slowly he walks over to your side, and his hand rests under chin, and he turns you to look at him, while his thumb grazes over your kiss-swollen lips.

His thoughts are only on your embarrassment and questions you have to be having right now. “Darling, what happened isn’t wrong.”

“I know, it doesn't feel wrong, it feels forbidden, and private,” he wishes there was a way to make you not feel so much guilt, but you are hardwired that way. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but he doesn’t know the words to say to reassure you of that. He wants you to know that what he feels for you is beyond just the physical part. That he has a need to take care of you.

The only reason he’s even entertaining this place still is because of you. He can’t say all that. Can’t say that he wants to pick you up, and set you on the counter while he lifts up your skirts, and worships you between your thighs. Fuck everyone’s small minded thoughts in this community because you deserved to be respected, loved, and cherished. And above all feel pleasure without shame.

“Ari, I can’t stop feeling funny around you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know?” How does one explain that you what you want with him is what is going on in the books? You didn’t even know what was going on in the books. You know there are wifely duties to her husband, but you didn’t know if that’s how a wife surrendered to her husband. The women in the books receive pleasure and compliments beyond your wildest imaginations. The women here bore children. There seems to be a difference there.

“Try to explain it?”

“It feels fuzzy, and I want something that I don’t even know what it is. And I want,” you bite your lip, and Ari wants to drop to his knees. He knows that would be too much right now. But you need the edge to be taken off of you.

“Did — did you enjoy the kiss?”

“Maybe too much.”

“Why do you say that?”

You stare up at him, eyes darting all around his ridiculously handsome face, and try to think of the words that won’t embarrass you. No one has ever talked to you about kissing, or even how it would make you feel. All you know is from the books. The men in those books seem to understand, and like it.

“It’s just that arousal has pooled in my core,” his eyes go wide, and he looks towards your belly. He’s speechless. His hand grips onto the counter, knuckles whitening, and his hip juts out. You hear him audibly counting, although it’s barely spoken. “You should go back outside.”

“I should take you swimming, and have some privacy with you,” he wants to take his time with you. Lavish you with so much attention that you can’t even think straight. The way he wants to spoil you with pleasures beyond your wildest imagination.

“It’s not an actual pool,” he blows out a slow bit of air, while you try to understand what he’s thinking. It isn’t about where he takes you, it’s just about being alone and uninterrupted.

“I know exactly what is happening to your body,” of course he does because he’s made other women feel like this. You want to scream, and tell him to leave you alone.

“Because there are other women who understood these feelings, and they were more appealing to you. You don’t have to tell me about them every chance you get. Please, Ari, go finish your chores, and I will see you at dinner,” you need to end the conversation, and you begin to spin around, but he grabs ahold of your wrist, “Ari?”

“I’m not walking out that door with you feeling jealous,” you aren’t jealous. You are angry. “There might have been other women, because I wasn’t shunned into thinking that it was a sin, but no woman has ever appealed to me the way you have. No other woman has made me feel as hard as you do,” that phrase. It meant something important. That’s what the books stated. “We’re continuing this conversation at the swimming hole tonight. Don’t worry about dinner. You’re eating English pizza.”

He drops your wrist, and marches out the front door. Picking up his shirt, he shakes it out, making sure the hideous creatures that marred his skin were no longer there. He should have got another one. What did he even mean? Harder — that could only describe one thing. But you’d have to ask Ari exactly what it all meant.

You wring your hands together as you pace around his living room. You had already watched the hired hands leave, and Ari picked up his phone, and dialed a number and was gone. He told you the conversation would continue, and you want it to, but you’re nervous. Nervous about him, or what he thinks. Nervous about you and whatever your body is doing. But you like it. Really like it.

And that kiss, you are swooning so hard. He put his tongue in your mouth just like the books said. And of all the books you read, you couldn’t have been prepared for the actual alarms that went off in your body. How perfect it felt, and just how sparks flew through every limb and ligament, and you felt as if you could fly.

The books didn’t fully prepare or warn you of that. How it felt like there’s fish in your stomach swimming around. Or how you ached, and throbbed in ways you couldn’t explain, so he had to do it. He had to come clean and tell you everything, but how do you start that conversation? You know what you have to do, but you aren’t sure if you have the guts to actually do it.

Could you go through with it? Ari isn’t the average man, and you know he’s not going to fall for your — is this what games are? One book mentioned the games women played. Are you playing games with him? No. You’ve made it clear, you told him what you were feeling, and he wants to continue the conversation. And there are — things that happen in the books. Where the men put their hands, and other things, and they have opened up so many possibilities, and you want to explore them all. You think. So many questions that you need answered.

You jump back a step, and put your hands behind your back as Ari walks in through the door with a box of pizza, his bright eyes looking you up and down before motioning to the kitchen, “Do you want to eat here, or do you want to have a picnic?”

“Picnic. I think you need to cool down, and get the dirt off you,” he nods, and grabs a few sodas from the fridge, and a blanket. He starts to walk out the back door, and you skip off after him. There is a tension in the air that can physically seep through your bones, and you want it smoothed away. You know that he’s not angry with you, he’s just lacking the words to say to you.

Stopping at the swimming hole, you grab the blanket from him, and lay it out on the ground, and he places the drinks and pizza down. He tugs at his shirt, until it’s thrown onto the blanket, and you watch his muscles ripple, and he’s kicking off his boots, and yanking his pants down. Standing in front of you like the giant he is. “Are you going to join me?”

“Nobody comes out here?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk backwards to the river, and you gulp. Reaching towards your buttons, before dropping your hands. Your eyes scan over the location before you tell yourself this is what they do in the books, and you like Ari, and want to feel the way those women did.

Your fingers tremble as they undo each button one at a time, and you let your dress fall to the ground. Ari’s boxer briefs tighten instantly as he stares at your backside. The cute bikini cut of your panties having a bit of your asscheeks hanging out. The soft pink color sitting on your skin like it was painted on there.

And then you turn around with your arms covering your top. You are wearing one of the matching sets he got you. “I can’t see anything you don’t want me to see,” timidly you peel your arms away, and walk towards the river. He stands up, walking closer, and you yip. He’s bigger, like he was before. He holds up his hand and you take it, so he can assist you in the water, and get a bit more coverage than before.

“You look beautiful,” he can’t help the way his eyes move all over every bit of exposed skin.

“Vanity is a sin,” keeping you covered was the sin.

“And I’m no angel,” you knew that to be true. He was both holy and unholy. A twinge of guilt pangs in your chest, as you glance between the two of you.

“How do they fit?”

“Hmm?” He shakes his head, meeting your eyes again. He has to focus if he wants this conversation to go anywhere. But the way your nipples are pressing against that thin material has him ready to blow a loud immediately. The fabric already see through with the moisture, and it’s pointless now. You should just remove it.

“My panties. Did they fit well?”

“Yeah,” he answers dopely, and you glance away with your cheeks setting on fire. The heat spreads throughout your body, as you stare at him through the crystal clear water. He’s even bigger. And your body longs to feel him against you again.

“Remember when you told me if ever I have any questions, you’d answer?” He gives you a nod. Letting his mouth sink below water, he swims and floats all around you like a shark with his meal for the night. Circling you like his prey, while you try to find a less blatant way to ask a question.

Him surrounding you just lights everything on fire. Like your blood is lava, and even the cold river isn’t stopping it. Things are happening to you that you didn’t understand, and even if you’re overwhelmed, you don’t hate it. You want to understand it, and want to know how to quell it.

“I guess first things first,” you inhale deeply, looking at him, and unable to take your eyes away. It’s like he needs you as much as you need him, and that doesn’t even make sense. “What’s a cock?”

So much happens in such a short time. Ari inhales before his mouth can get out of the water. Choking and sputtering on the water that he sucked into his lungs, and you’re able to maneuver yourself in front of him, and you grab his face, trying to get him to calm before you sink under water. Forgetting that you can’t swim because Ari is in trouble.

He lifts you up, bringing you straight onto his body, and his eyes capture yours. You feel both of your heartbeats in the most bizarre places as he clings to you. Those thick hands splay a bit too low on your back, to the point it isn’t really just your back. He’s so big. “What did you say?”

“A cock. What is it? It’s not like a rooster, obviously.”

“I think it’s better for me to show you,” you asked the question, and he couldn’t help his slimy little comment to come out. He’d show you his cock whenever you want him to. He wants to make an offer if you see it, you have to taste it.

“What does that mean?” Holding you with one arm, he pulls your hand, placing it on his swollen underwear. You whimper as you look into his eyes, and his hand flattens on yours, guiding you to massage his bulge. “And that’s — what goes in me?” How is that ever going to fit anywhere on you?

“What?”

“And that’s where the cum is from. Mmm,” your eyes look through the water, watching your hands as it palms his cock. “Can I see it? Is this how fucking works? Your cock goes into my cunt, and you shoot your cum into my belly. Would you want to see the cum leak out of me? I have so many questions, and you’re not answering, you’re just moaning. What do you taste like?”

“You’re killing me,” no you weren’t. In the books, this is what the men wanted the women to do. They wanted to fuck them deep and hard, and fuck their mouth. This is what men want. “Where are you getting all these words from?”

“The books. So, if you’re not in your underwear, how big is your cock. And what’s my cunt…oh my,” your eyes roll into the back of your head as his hand cups your covered mound, and you bite at your lip. Both of you rubbing each other, and it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Like something is missing. “What is fucking then?”

“You probably shouldn’t say that around your community. That’s a very bad word, and you’re such a naughty girl. But if you really want to know what fucking is, we got to start by stretching. Can I touch you under the panties?” He’s never prayed before this moment, but he prays you say yes. All this conversation has done is create a need to feel you from the inside.

“What?”

“It’s easier for me to show the true function of your cunt, if I can go inside of you,” you moan. Your body curves more into him, bringing your core right to his cock. Your body needs to be fucked, but you deserve to have someone make passionate love with you.

“Like finger fucking? Fingering, right? You’ll scissor your fingers inside of me, so you can stretch me out? Yes, can you show me?” His pinky moves aside your panties, and when his bare hands touch you, the moan you let out doesn’t even sound human.

“Shh, you’ve got so much repressed sexual energy, you’re about to blow before I even touch you. This right here, is your pussy, or as you like to call it your cunt,” you didn’t quite understand. His fingers roam over your split, but they were nothing compared to what you held in your hand. His fingers feel baby like. His cock that you try to wrap your hands around feel otherworldly.

“But this,” his fingers push past through your body, and you feel him in your throat. Pressing your forehead against his, and you can no longer hold his cock as you let his fingers roam around inside of you. It didn’t make any sense, and even though you know it will be frowned upon, this pleasure is too good to give up. “This beautiful hole, is your pussy. But…”

Ari’s mouth falls open as you succumb to the pleasure. Your mouth agape, and brows furrowed as you just feel him. “If I can make you come, are you going to give your pussy to me?”

“What’s coming?” he adds a second finger, and you raise your body off him a bit. The stretch is much more intense, and the fullness is mind-blowing. This is what going dumb means. There’s no thoughts, just the way that Ari is making you feel, but also how he feels inside of you. Like he belongs there. A thumb presses down on your entrance, and the sounds that flow out of your mouth make Ari moan.

“I can’t explain coming, you’ll just know. This is your clit,” his thumb circles around the little bean, and your body jumps around. You didn’t believe in magic, but if you did, it belonged in Ari’s fingertips. Your body starts rolling into him, lifting your drenched tits out of the water.

The fabric of your bra is too thin, and your nipples protrude out. If you think you’re overwhelmed, he’s a dead man. His eyes don't know what to look at. He wishes he could see his fingers dragging in and out of your heavenly pussy. Desires nothing more than to see your tits free and bouncing around as he fucks his fingers into you. But it isn’t until he feels your walls flutter, around that he just stops and enjoys what he sees.

Eyes closing tightly as he drives in harder. Faster. Curling his fingers, he hits a tender spot that takes all thoughts away. Tight circles on your clit. Everything working in harmony. Until the dam breaks, and you are gasping and panting for air. Unable to open your eyes, he lets your cunt relax around him before he pulls out his fingers, placing them directly into his mouth where he can suck off your diluted juices.

“That’s coming,” he’s so proud at how well you took him. How beautiful and perfect you looked as you came undone, and he wants to see it again. And again.

“So different from cum. Will you show me your cum?” You are trying to murder him. There’s no other way around this. You are saying all the innocent and filthy things that come to your mind, and he wants you to partake in everything. Whatever books you’re reading, he’ll buy you five thousand more, just so you continue to stay curious for him.

“I’ll paint you with my cum if that’s what you need. But, you just had your first orgasm. I think it’s time for us to eat. Maybe you can show me your pussy outside of the water,” you take some staggered breaths before you open your eyes, looking at him confused.

“But it’s your pussy now,” fuck, he says in his head, and your staring at him seriously. “But how does a cock feel going inside?”

“Not a cock,” you don’t understand. That’s what the books say. “My cock. But not today. I bet that was your first kiss today wasn’t it?” You nod your head. It’s not something that’s done. Things like that are for marriage. And you’d assume whatever his fingers were doing earlier is as well.

“And there’s other lips I can kiss that’ll make you feel even better,” Ari gives your sweet little cunt a few taps with his palm, and the way you look at him so sweetly and whisper please has things on overdrive. He maneuvers you to his front. Coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist as he grinds you on him. “Just like this. You feel how hard you made me?”

“Yeah,” you struggle to get out. “You’re so — big.”

“And you’ll learn to take every inch of me. I’ll have you stretched out so wide around my cock, and you’re going to beg for me to go harder. You’re such a sweet girl, but you want to be my filthy little slut, huh?” In the past you’ve heard those words in such negative terms. But when Ari calls you his, it has you melting into him. Arching your back, you see his eyes go to your breasts.

“You’ll suck on my pebbled peaks, too?”

“Darling, I’ll suck on every part of your body,” whimpering out his name he moves you over him harder. Grunting, growling, and deep breathing. He watches you. You’re about to get off again, and it’s a shame he can’t see your body glistening with his cum that’s about to blow all over your virgin pussy.

“Darling, I’m a sucker for you. You ready?” You nod your head excitedly as he crashes his lips into yours. He devours your moans, gifting you with his own. Creating waves in an otherwise steady river with your movements, until you feel the most beautiful warmth spurt against your skin. “That’s what you fucking do to me. I’ve never came like that before.”

He pants as he looks over your face. Your eyes are wide as they watch him. “It may be a sin, Darling, but you’re worth it,” and you think he’s worth it, too. There’s no way these Amish men could ever be so vulgar with you. It’s depraved, and you sink even further into his hell with him. Your purity be damned because you know it belongs to him.

“I think the books my sister suggested for me to get are complete and utter trash. But you keep reading, and figure out what you like. Write it down. Maybe one day I’ll not only fuck you, but fuck my cum inside of your cunt so deep, that…” he stops, what the fuck was he saying? He’s never desired for children. But the thought of you filled to the brim with his cum, and watching it drip out of you has him reeling. The thought of fucking you everyday before you go home thrills him. Have you walking around with a used pussy, and nobody knows that he took your virtue. They didn’t deserve you.

He has visions of you taking him every way possible. Sobbing out his name while he has his seed dripping out of you. But it isn’t enough. That is just for him. The lips of your pussy swollen from how hard he fucks you will be just for him. But your belly swollen and full of him, nobody could deny. He would have you and nobody else could. He’d have to save you and take you away from this disgusting place. And this is just crazy.

“But, refrain from talking about fucking, and my cock and that beautiful little pussy. Let’s keep it to just us. If you do, I’ll make sure you get to come on my cock.”

“Do I get to taste it?”

“Fuck,” he sighs. You want to try it all, and are eager, and scared, and timid, and it makes it that much more satisfying. Your little bit of jealousy ignited something inside of him. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and the thought of him fucking some other woman made you angry. No, it pissed you off. Made you all bratty and snippy. He wanted to push you to your knees, and shove his cock past those pouty lips to remind you the only person that is making his dick wet is you.

“Darling, the first time I come inside of you, I’ll gather the leaking cum with my cock, and let you suck it off. Two holes will be filled with me,” it sounds so — you can’t even think of words. You just know that the books and Ari are your undoing. But once that door is opened, can it fully be closed?

You had Ari inside of you, and you craved more. Addiction is a sin, but Ari was worth sinning for.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

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@theolivia-graham @steviebbboi @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @kandis-mom

[hermetiqa]

What study habits will help you this school year?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK | MASTERLIST

PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

The study habits that will help you this year are the ones that will keep you engaged in your lessons and courses/subjects. Something that keeps your mind active and keeps you interested in learning. Be curious about what you're learning. Take studying as something positive and don't take it as a responsibility. Have the mindset that you're privileged enough to study and learn these stuff. Be in a state of wanting to learn, not needing to learn. Also, leave your "failures" behind, such as low grades or not being able to get a perfect score on your exam. Instead, focus on what you lacked that caused that result.

Study techniques:

Make flash cards

Use white boards (the bigger, the better)

Act like a teacher, pretend that you're teaching

Similar to the previous one, you can also pretend that you're reporting the lesson in class

Make mind maps with only your knowledge and check what you missed after

Pile 2

I'm getting a lot of energy here from you, Pile 2. First of all, STOP CRAMMING. You might have survived the last school year by cramming but it won't help you anymore, especially this time. You need to study in advance especially when you know you have exams coming up. Stop studying the night before the day of the exam. Also, leave the past behind. Let go of your "friends" who distract you from studying and just want to go out to parties. Change your routine. Your previous routine could be a success for you but it drains you. Find some balance between studying and leisure.

Study techniques:

Study with your friends together

Put notes on your walls so you can look at them anytime and you'll learn them naturally

If you exercise and you happen to have a treadmill, put notes on the wall in front of you so you can read as you exercise (walking or jogging)

Similarly, you can record yourself reading your notes and listen to your record while jogging outside or exercising

Read your notes outloud

Pile 3

So here's the studious pile. I'm seeing that you tend to study hard, not study smart. And that's your mistake. You should study smart, not study hard. Stop memorizing and start understanding your lessons more. Stop rewriting your notes over and over until you reach your desired perfection of your notes, the "aesthetic" that you want. Instead, do your best to write well when you're taking notes in class. That way, you won't have to rewrite them at home. When reading your notes, it's best for you to use different colors of highlighters. Also when someone offers you some help in a lesson that you struggle with, accept it, even if you only struggle a little. Lastly, enjoy learning! Don't stress yourself too much about it and overthink you'll fail.

Study techniques:

Don't stay up all night to study and wake up early in the morning to review, especially to recall what you've already studied

Never ever cram and always finish the easiest tasks first

Drink coffee when studying (only if you don't have health issues or you weren't advised that you should avoid coffee)

Keep on rereading your notes and rewrite what you remember, then keep track of what you tend to forget

Make tests for yourself or look for tests online

[annwrites]

fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous!

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & billy get lunch & he nearly commits assault. he then steals your icecream cone.

— tags: billy getting violently jealous, billy getting a boner, billy being possessive

— tw: eating, drinking, slut-shaming, sexual harassment

— word count: 2,840

— a/n: i'm not gonna lie, writing for billy is sm fun. he's such an asshole & it's hilarious to me

When you wake in the morning, it's with a muscled arm slung heavily over your waist, and something hard pressed into your backside.

So, he'd decided to join you under the convers at some point during the night, you think.

You turn, wishing to get him off of you, but jerk in surprise when you feel a patch of rough hair brush against the side of your thigh. He was not...

You shoot up in bed, his arm falling into your lap, and he doesn't even wake.

You very slowly pull back the comforter, and when you glance down you fill with rage. "Get up!"

Billy's eyes slowly open and a lazy smile forms on his lips. "Mornin', sunshine. You sleep good? I know I did."

You get out of bed, throwing the covers back, then immediately regret that decision, seeing someone—or, rather, something—also clearly 'awake'.

Billy doesn't so much as react. He just folds his hands behind his head, not even bothering to re-cover himself, knowing what God blessed him with.

You stare up at the ceiling. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

His eyes trail along your body, your messy hair. "I don't like sleeping in clothes. Get over it."

Your hands ball into fists at your sides. "You are such a dick."

He raises a brow, glancing down to his waist, shrugging, lightly nodding. "In a way, I guess you're rig-"

You quickly walk around to his side of the bed, grabbing his briefs, and throwing them in his face. "Get dressed."

He catches them, sighing. "You're so mean to me."

You grab your backpack, heading into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind you as you get ready for the day.

When you come back into the room, Billy's now dressed—thankfully. A pair of jeans, his boots, and a plaid button-up...which is fairly unbuttoned at the top, showing off his chest, and leather jacket on.

He looks up to you, chewing on a piece of cold pizza. "Breakfast?" He asks, holding the half-eaten piece out toward you, mouth full.

You grab your other bag, settling the strap on your shoulder. "No, I lost my appetite," you say, making your way toward the door.

Just as you reach up on tiptoes to unlock the chain at the top, you feel him pinch your ass under your dress.

You swing around, backpack nearly slamming into him, which you then slip off of your shoulders, throwing it on the floor.

He raises his hands, laughing.

You raise an open palm toward him, his hand quickly grabbing your wrist, catching it before it even comes close to his face. You raise the other one—same thing. He pushes you back against the wall, holding you firmly in-place by your wrists, a smirk on his lips as you squirm to get free.

He places his lips directly beside your ear, his body now pressed-up against your own. "You want to take your frustrations out on me, baby? I can think of lots of funner ways to do it." He pulls back, looking into your eyes, face now utterly serious, eyes hard, his hands squeezing your wrists a bit more firmly.

"Don't ever do that again," he says, suddenly releasing you and grabbing his bag, throwing the door open, leaving you standing there seething.

Once the two of you are checked out and back on the road, Billy seems to be in good spirits, despite your little tiff that morning...which you felt incredibly guilty about.

How could you have even thought of hitting him? Especially when you knew how much it hurt. And you knew that he did as well.

You reach forward, turning down AC/DC on the radio and turn toward him.

He looks at you with a curious expression. "You need somethin', baby?"

Always with the pet names...

"I'm sorry...for...for trying to slap you. I shouldn't have done that. You're right: it won't happen again."

He's silent for a moment, staring at the road ahead. Then, "Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Just trying to get you to lighten up a little, sugar. You know, you are allowed to have fun."

You shake your head. "Could you please stop with the pet names?'

He smirks. "Not likely, honey." Then, "So, about that having fun-"

You turn the radio back up, Highway to Hell blasting through the speakers.

A couple hours later, the two of you finally stop for lunch at a roadside stand that serves burgers, hotdogs, fries, and a few other items.

The two of you pay separately this time, you opting for cheese fries, and Billy a burger.

You sit at a picnic table with an umbrella overtop the both of you, and you watch as he opens his soda can, taking a sip.

You eat a couple fries, and feel a jean-clad leg brush against your own under the table.

You glance up to him from under your lashes, but he just continues eating.

And then you feel his boot knock against your ankle.

"Would you stop that?"

He looks up at you, swallowing. "Eating?"

You roll your eyes, lightly kicking him under the table.

"You want to play footsie, darlin'?"

You shake your head, ignoring his leg softly rubbing against your own. Every time you react, you're giving him exactly what he wants. He's just pissing you off to amuse himself.

A few moments later, his leg stills and you look up, seeing that his eyes are now trained elsewhere: on a pair of girls around your age perched atop a picnic table diagonal to where you sit, giggling and talking amongst themselves, glancing to him every few seconds. You turn back around to continue eating.

Billy shoots them a wink. "Hey, dolls," he calls flirtatiously.

You roll your eyes, but remain silent.

"Is that your car?" One asks, looking to his Camaro.

He grins—it always makes picking up chicks so much easier. "Sure is, sweetheart. You want me to take you for a spin?"

She goes quiet for a moment, you imagine she's debating it with her friend, then, "Can we both come?"

He stands. "Hell yeah you can, baby."

He doesn't bother looking down to you when he says quietly, "Be right back."

You watch as his car speeds out of the parking lot, hoping he comes back simply because all of your things are in his trunk.

Once you've finished eating, you stand to throw your trash away, until a soft breeze blows one of your napkins away. You groan.

You plop your paper bowl on top of the table and crouch down on hand and knees, reaching underneath the table to grab it. You go to stand, then hear someone catcall you from behind, and you slam the top of your head against the bottom of the table.

You reach up, placing your palm over the spot you were sure would have a bump forming on it soon enough.

You look behind you, and a group of three guys are watching you. Two of them standing, talking to each other, glancing to you every few seconds with smirks, the third seated on the hood of what you assume is his Mustang.

You turn around, throwing your trash away, then you seat yourself at the table again, leaning back against it, watching for Billy's car, now feeling uncomfortable.

The one on the hood slides off, making his way over to you.

You ignore him, glancing around, pretending not to notice, hoping it'll discourage him from trying to talk to you. You don't get so lucky, however.

He comes to stand in front of you, forcing you to look up at his towering form. He's older, but still handsome. Mid-twenties, maybe? Short, dark hair that's slicked back, a goatee, and dark eyes. He sports a plain blue t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. "Sorry about that. My friends...they, uh," he looks to them and smiles, then back to you. "Can be real assholes."

You smile nervously. "It's ok, no harm done."

He cocks his head to the side. "Your boyfriend do that?"

You reach up, hand hovering over the side of your face, then lower it back into your lap. "No. It's...a long story."

"I've got time," he replies with a kind smile.

You remain silent, not exactly interested in giving a stranger your life-story.

He nods. "I get it; you're shy. That's cute," he says with a chuckle.

He glances down to your bare legs, then back up to your eyes. "You're pretty."

You swallow nervously, blushing. "Thank you," you say quietly.

"Sweet too, apparently."

Your heart starts to pound from nerves. You then begin to worry about how long Billy is going to be gone. A few minutes? A couple hours?

Suddenly, he leans down, planting his palms atop the table behind you, boxing you in as he leans down, his face mere inches from your own. "You like fast cars, cutie?"

God, they really are all the same, aren't they?

You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling from nerves. "Not really. They...they kind of scare me."

He smirks briefly. "What if I promise to take things slow, just for you?"

You know he is most certainly not talking about cars now.

Before you can reply, you hear the rumble of a familiar engine pulling back into the lot, and as you go to turn your head in the direction of the sound, he presses a kiss to your cheek, causing you to jerk your head back in his direction.

He laughs lightly. "Not exactly where I was aiming for." Then, "So, what's your name? Mine's Tyler."

You hear a door being loudly slammed.

"I-"

Suddenly, Tyler is being pulled away from you by the back of his shirt. Billy throws him on the pavement, the look on his face that of utter rage.

You glance to the Mustang, and see his two friends heading in your direction.

"Touch her again and I'll beat your fuckin' ass! You hear me, asshole?" He points down at him, his other hand in a tight fist.

Tyler goes to get up and Billy steps overtop of him, legs on either side of him. "Stay down, if you know what's fuckin' good for you."

"Hey!" You hear called from the parking lot and your eyes widen. His friends do not look happy.

You step over to Billy, gripping the leather of his jacket in your hands, pulling him toward you. "Billy, we have to go. Now."

He glares down at Tyler for just a moment longer, shoulders squared, rapidly rising and falling, jaw set, eyes hard, then steps away, grabbing your forearm, pulling you around to the passenger side. "Get in the fucking car," he orders, shoving you inside.

He quickly makes his way around the front of the car, turning the engine over and rapidly pulling away, leaving the three angry men in the rearview.

Billy swerves into traffic when he goes to merge, forcing the car in his lane to also swerve into the next one over, laying on their horn.

He just angrily switches gears, ignoring the now-angry driver, going faster.

You buckle yourself in, still shaking.

When you glance at him, he looks anything but pleased. Why was he so angry, anyway? Had the girls he'd given a quick ride to ticked him off? And thus made Tyler the target to take his anger out on?

"Did you not have fun, then?"

He looks at you with an irritated, but also confused look. "What?"

"With the girls from the food stand. Did they-"

He scoffs, shifting gears. "Are you fucking stupid, or something?"

Your hands ball into fists. "Excuse me?"

"Who even was that prick, huh? I leave you alone for five goddamn minutes and that's what I come back to? You letting him kiss you, and touch whatever-the-fuck-else while I wasn't there to-"

Angry tears sting your eyes. "I didn't let him touch anything! He came onto me! Maybe, if for once, you thought with the head on your shoulders, instead of the one in your pants, it wouldn't have happened in the first place!"

He picks up speed. "It's not my fuckin' job to babysit your ass. So, is that it, then? Huh? That you really are some easy slut who puts out for everyone except me?"

You're shaking you're so enraged now. "Fuck you! You-"

"Yeah, probably the only guy you haven't!" He throws at you with a mocking laugh.

He swerves into the next lane over as a poor excuse at merging.

"God, you are such an ass! What's your problem? I mean, how many girls have you slept with, anyway? I talk to one guy—one guy—and I'm a slut? Are you serious?"

He sneers. "None of your business how many I've had. Don't be such a fuckin' prude. Not like it meant anything, anyway. It's just sex. It doesn't mean shit."

"And that's exactly why I won't let you—any guy—so much as touch me: because that is what sex is to all of you. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll save myself for someone actually worthy of me."

He looks at you then, expression unreadable. "You're a fucking virgin?"

You clench your jaw.

He looks back to the road.

"Like you said: none of your business."

He leans back, dropping speeds, upshifting. "So you didn't let Harrington crawl up there after all, huh?"

You want to break something inside his car, but know for your own safety that you better not.

"Why? Are you jealous if I did?"

He looks at you. "Did he?" He asks, completely serious.

You shrug. "I don't know. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Sound awful jealous to me."

He downshifts again, anger climbing, along with the speedometer. "Answer the fuckin' question."

You stare out your open window, hair whipping around you.

"Fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous! That what you wanted to hear? Huh? So, did you-"

"No, we didn't even hold hands because it wasn't a date, Billy! I'm not even attracted to him in the first place. Halfway through Nancy showed up, and they talked for the rest of the evening, while I sat with a girlfriend of hers chatting."

He grows quiet for only a second before saying "fuck this" and turning the radio on, blaring Black Sabbath.

It's an hour later before either of you speak again, you breaking the silence. "I have to pee."

He rolls his eyes. "Why didn't you go back at the food stand? Oh, wait, nevermind. I know why. You were too busy-"

"Either you pull over soon or I'm going all over the seat."

He takes the next exit, and once he's parked outside of a McDonald's, you slam the door behind you.

"Fuckin' watch that shit!"

You ignore him as you go inside, in search of a restroom.

Once finished, you sit there a few extra minutes, trying to calm yourself down. You consider going back out and trying to calmly explain to him that there are other ways of expressing emotions than through violence and unabashed anger, but you know exactly how such a conversation will go—it won't. He'll put a stop to it before you can even start.

So, you instead wash your hands, then go and get yourself an ice-cream cone.

When you come back out to the car, Billy has a pair of sunglasses on, head leaned back against the seat, Led Zeppelin now playing.

You get inside, buckling yourself in with one hand, then take a lick of your ice-cream that's in the other.

He turns his head in your direction. "What, nothing for your chauffeur?"

You look at him, licking your lips. "You have two feet and a heartbeat, go get one."

He watches you lick a few more times, vanilla sliding down your tongue.

He doesn't even try to hide it when he reaches down, adjusting himself.

You ignore it, licking again.

"Let me have some."

You look at him, considering, then hold it toward him.

And he bites half the thing off, swallowing.

"You-"

He then tosses the rest out the window, splattering against the pavement, rainbow sprinkles going everywhere.

"What'd you do that for?!" You yell.

He puts the car in reverse, backing out of his parking spot. "Don't need you making a mess in here, or distracting me while I'm driving."

"You just wasted thirty cents of my money!"

His hand circles the wheel, turning toward the exit of the parking lot. "More like fifteen once I was done with it." He looks at you again. "If you need somethin' else to lick, I know where you can put your tongue at, sweetheart."

"You're so disgusting."

He glances to you. "I think you like getting those perfect feathers ruffled."

He then revs the engine loud enough as he drives away that he doesn't catch the vulgar statement you throw his way.

He'd like to think you agreed with him.

[nightwngz]

𝓢𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 ୨ ໋ ˳ ⊹ eng. . . !

superman, wonder woman and batman x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut drabble, gang bang, some sexual degradation, masturbation, oral sex, p in v. Diana!bisexual.

COPYRIGHT: No copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

LANGUAGE: English is not my first language and I am still studying to master it. It makes me insecure to write by myself in another language, so I used the translator. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. The original version is here.

There was always something strange and unlikely about these three from the moment you met them.

They were all hiding secrets. According to you, hiding secrets was one of the most common parts of human nature. You were not interested in knowing what they were all hiding, but your curious mind was obsessed with knowing what the holy trinity of the Justice League was hiding beneath their sleek and sophisticated veneer of heroes; what no one would dare doubt or question.

The price of your curiosity was more costly than you could have ever imagined, a debt that would have to be repaid. Now you were part of this madness, and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't escape.

The good news was that you didn't want to.

You knew that the moment you felt the three of them completely, you were content to belong.

It was just hard to think of anything else when you found yourself tied to a chair, completely naked and unable to move while three pairs of blue eyes analyzed you.

The beautiful princess of Themyscira had no shame in digging into your sweet crotch. Her fingers slid across your sodden vaginal lips with a sound so vulgarly obscene that it caused you to inadvertently stir in your chair.

You looked intently at the two male figures as you tried to get as close to Diana as your body would allow so you could kiss her and feel her fingers go deeper inside you.

But before you could reach her lips, you were brutally pushed away by the man of steel, who had the clear intention of tasting your mouth first. Not that you were complaining; Clark's tongue was heavenly. It had a strange but hot connection to your lips, so it made you a mess right away. Who would have thought that Superman's ultimate power would be to soak his victims so easily?

Still, you didn't deserve them to be nice to you. On the contrary, you should be punished for insubordination. What you did was unforgivable.

In your defense, you didn't know that you were exclusive to the trio and couldn't sleep with other people. The rules weren't very clear when you met them, or when they started their no-strings-attached sex adventures.

Of course, you were not exclusive to anyone, and you planned to make that clear in the future. Right now, you were too busy cumming on Diana's fingers drilling your pussy that you didn't have enough time to think about anything else.

The adoration the Bat had for the way your pussy enveloped him so warmly brought out the most dominant and morbid part of his inner self. The sight of his cock moving in and out of your little hole at the same time your mouth was happily eating Clark's erection and your fingers were eating Diana's clit was enough to bring you to the verge of orgasm.

You gagged as the tip brushed against your uvula. You couldn't even concentrate enough because of how hard he was penetrating you. The pleasure was embracing.

— Look at our little slut. She can't even concentrate on sucking a good cock while she's being fucked. - Wayne commented. He kept going right into her sweet spot; faster and faster, more and more precise.

— She was too bad. Should we give her a prize though? She always takes us so well. - Kent continues, asking. You're beginning to control the rhythm of your mouth, although it's still a little difficult in some ways.

— Oh, Hera! - moans the princess of Themyscira. - That feels so good. - Her fingers can't resist trying to help themselves so she can come on your hand.

This is definitely the best part of the day, the one you enjoyed the most. And of course that was the guilty pleasure that came with keeping a secret. The secret the four of you shared.

[rennebright]

TRANSLATION COMMISSIONS OPEN

Heya, been a while since I made a post about this, I'm Renne from the (mostly one-man) translation group Shuten Doujin Translations, or"SDTLs" for short, we specialize in translating adult manga/hent*i from Japanese to English, if you're curious about our works you can search "SDTLs" in the adult manga site of your preference, such as e-/exhent*i or nhent*i. (We're always open for commissions but I thought I should make a new post promoting them since the circumstances have changed since last time.)

While adult manga is our forte, it doesn't need to be specifically that, it can be short (sfw or otherwise) comics or scripts (though probably not something the length of a book) as well as just editing b/w manga (everything but single doujinshi/manga chapters have different fee rates, so please inquiry about specifics). Our translations are JP→ENG⇆SPA

If you're interested in commissioning us here's a breakdown of the main info:

$25 (USD) base fee + $6 every 200 translated words (+ $any extra editing, transparent text, heavy redraw, etc., up to a maximum of $25 [might require outsourcing]) x 1.08 bullshit p@ypal fee.

With that pricing, an average 20 page chapter with simple editing would be roughly $40~$55 depending on the word count.

Strictly forbidden content includes: /o/icon, sc@t, bestia/ity, and other similar extreme fetishes. (Note that even if it doesn't feature any of that we might refuse to work on it for other reasons.)

However, please take into account that:

Since the total cost is based on TRANSLATED WORDS I won't know the exact amount until the script is done, I can give a rough estimate but it can be wrong, if the difference is too big I'll let you know and we can reach an agreement.

Because of that, there's no upfront payment, an invoice will only be sent once the script is done and there's a 100% guarantee that I'll complete it once it's paid.

There is a queue and it's suceptible to the length of other commissions as well as personal events in my life, be patient but don't doubt messaging me to ask for updates if I take too long.

If you'd like to inquiry about commissioning something feel free to DM me on tumblr, join my discord server and post it in the appropiate channel (or send me a discord DM through there), or email me at shutendoujin★gmail.com (★→@).

Reblogs are appreciated and if you happen to ever have read anything from us let me know through DM/ask or in the tags, I always appreciate seeing people's opinions, thank you!