#its not like. long long but its like. when wet a bit past the middle of his back

[waywardsalt]

also im so fucking enamored with the idea of linebeck having long hair. like not shoulder length not a bit past the shoulder like when his hair gets wet and it flattens out the bits that stick out its like. oh hes never cut his hair before. its a general thing but i also just rlly like it

[4unnyr0se]

Could I ask for Akaashi, Osamu, Kenma, and Bokuto + them giving oral?

❥ til your teeth rot! | akaashi, osamu, kenma, bokuto

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, cunnilingus (duh), praise, degrading, overstimulation, face sitting, semi-public sex, osamu's accent, kenma is v lazy, fingering

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so i'm sorry if its awful

got a request? my ask are open!

❥ Keiji Akaashi | Slow and steady

Akaashi eats your pussy like it’s made of glass like it could break at any moment. Every flick of his tongue, every sucking motion on your clit is calculated based on your previous reaction. Did you mewl louder when he harshly sucked on your sensitive bud? He’ll apply more pressure next time, hopefully earning another one of your adorable moans. 

Just because he was calculated to give pleasure does not mean he was inexperienced or selfish. Absolutely not. He could never dream of denying you anything you so plainly desired. All you had to was flash him those beautiful, sparking eyes of yours, and you would be on your back, legs spread, and moaning like an amateur pornstar while Akaashi made you cum for the second time that day.

He never rushes you through your orgasm, he doesn’t think that being intimate with you is some kind of game. It’s a puzzle that he simply wants to solve. His tongue is achingly slow against your folds, making the most precious moments between the two of you last longer. He is savoring each bit of your sweet nectar, and he fucking loves it. 

K-Keiji!” you sobbed, your hands flying to his neat mess of dark curls, desperate for purchase. Your legs were wrapped around his shoulders, just in case he would try to flee. Akaashi fucking loved it when you trapped him between your legs, it made him feel like the two of you were the last people on earth. “Gonna cum!”

Akaashi smiled against your folds, his tongue pausing momentarily. “I know, pretty girl. Wanna fall apart on my tongue again? I love it when you do that.” he praised, diving back to make out with your core. His tongue slipped past your entrance, the tip of the wet muscle gliding in and out with ease. His soft hands squeezed the inside of your thighs, rolling the supple and soft flesh between his fingers. 

Your head was rested on the pillow beneath you, hair growing knotted and messy whilst your thighs trembled in Akaashi’s grasp. His nose rubbed against your clit so deliciously, the additional stimulation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you as you cried in pleasure, his name leaving your lips over and over again. Akaashi purred at the sensation of your release coating his mouth and tongue, pulling away once your high had subsided.

“Amazing job, pretty girl. You did so well for me.” he praised, wiping your slick from his chin. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, lingering just long enough for you to taste your own release. “See how delicious you are, darling? So unbelievably perfect for me.”

❥ Osamu Miya | No time to lose

Osamu eats your pussy like he has somewhere to be at all times like he’s in a hurry. Being the owner of a popular rice ball spot keeps him occupied most of the time (as well as dealing with his pain-in-the-ass older brother), so when he finds a free moment to be intimate with you, he makes sure he makes himself efficient. 

Even though Osamu is the more relaxed and lazy twin, he’s never lazy in the bedroom. His usually tired and ‘over this’ attitude would melt away the second you two shared a longing kiss, his body being taken over by some kind of insatiable desire. He’s driven by his motivation to make you scream his name for the shop next to him to hear. His tongue lashes at your pussy like a man starving in the middle of a desert. 

If there’s a rare lull in customers entering and exiting his onigiri shop, he’ll change the ‘open’ sign to a ‘come back later’ sign and text you to be in the back of his shop ASAP. And, of course, you’re there in less than ten minutes, your skirt flipped up and your hands supporting your weight on the steel countertop as his tongue ravishes your cunt, drinking in your slick like honey.

“Stay fuckin’ still,” Osamu groaned into your heat, slapping the inside of your thighs. “I can’t make ya cum if yer wigglin’, sweets.” that was a lie. He was a liar. He could make you cum regardless of how much you were moving, he didn’t matter to him. But if you writhed around so much that it caused some ingredients to fall onto the floor, then it became a problem. 

“S-sorry ‘Samu! Fuck!” you moaned, your hands gripping onto the steel material of the counter for dear life as his tongue hungrily, your sweet nectar coating his tongue beautifully. It was the best alcohol he could ever wish to taste. “M’close!”

“Ya better fuckin’ be. I only got five minutes before those fuckers wonder why the shop ain’t open,” his words sent vibrations through your core, your clit painfully pulsating. The rough pad of this thumb swirled around the sensitive bud, pressing against it harshly. “Be a good girl and fuckin’ cum already, yeah? Gotta open up soon, sweets.”

Osamu finally flattened his tongue in the way that drove you over the edge, still swirling your bud with his rough thumb. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, lapping up your release eagerly. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.”

He pulled himself out from between your thighs, wiping off his chin with the backside of his hand. Osamu stood up and pecked the top of your head, playfully slapping your soaked cunt. “Get outta here, I got customers to serve.” he also had to sanitize his countertop hard. 

❥ Kenma Kozume | Suffocate him

Kenma will only eat you out if you sit on his face. Not hover, not dangle, fucking sit on it. Despite being a CEO and a popular streamer, this man is lazy as hell. Typically, you do all the work during sex. Bouncing on his cock, sucking him off, etc. But on the rare occasion Kenma wants to eat you out, you still have to pull a heavy load. He is not getting up off his ass by any means, so you might as well cooperate with him. He’s stubborn as a fucking mule.

Kenma was a selfish lover, and he didn’t want to change that. He liked being taken care of and not putting much effort into it. He’s already so successful. Why should he do more work than he already is? That’s so exhausting. But how could he refuse when his pretty girlfriend practically paws at him to help get her off? He’s lying on the bed in a minute, gesturing to you to tear off those pretty red panties and take away his ability to breathe.

“Ride my fucking face,” Kenma groans into your core, squeezing your ass with hands as your hips buck into his mouth wildly. He loved it when you got like this, so desperate and needy for his tongue. His tongue plunged into your sobbing cunt over and over again, eliciting the cutest moans from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Kenma!” you whimpered, your hands grasping the mahogany headboard like it was the last lifeboat on board. Your ground your clit onto his nose, mewling pathetically as his tongue lashed at your most intimate parts. Kenma savored your sweet honey, adoring how it nicely coated his tongue. Maybe he should make you fit on his face more often. 

His deep brown hair stuck to his forehead, the skin slick with sweat as the tip of his tongue traced meaningless shapes on your clit, occasionally nibbling at the sensitive bud. He knew you were close. The way your entire body was shaking was a dead fucking giveaway. That, and his name practically being screamed repeatedly, was also a good sign. “Gonna cum? Do it, princess. Make a mess on me.”

And you did, your orgasm spilling all over your boyfriend’s cute face. Your writing stopped, with Kenma slapped your ass, indicating that you should get off. You sighed and chose to straddle his lap, pecking his nose gently. “Thank you, baby, that was amazing.”

“Did you think we were finished?” Kenma groaned, resting his arms behind his head. “You got me really fucking hard, princess. How about you take care of that for me, yeah?”

❥ Kotaro Bokuto | Pure addiction

Boktuo fucking loves eating you out. Whenever you mentioned that you were horny, he would drag you into his bed and plunge his face into your thighs until he got you to coat your inner thighs with your release. He could never get enough of you and how good you tasted. How you would only crave his tongue and his fingers on your most imitate parts. 

He didn’t fucking care when or where you were horny, he was more than happy to make you scream in pleasure. Whispering to him in a cafe? He locked the bathroom and had you sitting on the sick, your dress bunched up at your hips, and your stockings ripped so your soaking cunt could be displayed just for him. Woke up at two in the morning from a wet dream? No problem, he had you riding his face while he jerked his fat cock to the sounds you made. Did you also wanna suck him off? No problem, baby! You were sixty-nining until the rooster screeched. Truly, Bokuto was addicted to eating you out. 

“Why are you covering your mouth, baby? I wanna hear your moans,” Bokuto groaned into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your slick like a man gone mad. Your trembling body was pinned against the bathroom door of your favorite restaurant, your skirt pushed upwards, and your soaked panties dangled off your ankles while Bokuto whispered pure filth into your cunt. “Don't you wanna let all those people out there know how good my tongue can make you feel?”

“Ngh, we’ll get in trouble, Kotaro!” you whispered, doing your best to keep your voice at an acceptable level while your boyfriend spelled his name with your tongue, eliciting a sharp squeak in return. “F-fuck, don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You wanna cum on my face in a public bathroom, hm? God, you’re so fucking hot. How’d I get so lucky?” he purred against your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bud. “You taste so fucking good, holy shit. Way better than lunch.”

His index and ring finger bullied their way inside of you, curling at the spot that made you instantly cum all over his face. He didn’t stop sucking on your folds when your orgasm hit, his fingers still scissoring deep inside of your broken cunt. Your hand slapped over your mouth, covering out your molten cries of ecstasy.

“Good fucking girl, I’m so proud of you.” Bokuto praised, licking off his tongue as he stared at your ruined state. He pulled your panties up and your dress down, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Now, do you wanna go back home and cum again, hm?

[lovebugism]

soooo eddie hears or reads somewhere that birthmarks are where your lover from a past life used to kiss you

and as soon as he gets home he wants to make sure that in this present life r still feel this love and that the birthmarks remain the same until their next life together (ugh so cute 🥺)

i changed this up a wee bit but i hope u like it!! — you and eddie kiss birthmarks on the other for the next life (established relationship, fluff, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie traces shapes on your bare back, a post-sex ritual of sorts. It starts out innocent, usually — tiny hearts and flowers and planets that you try hard to guess. It almost always ends with him signing penises onto your spine and laughing out loud every time you realize.

He’s doing it mindlessly now. Touching you just to touch you. His finger trails up your back, circles over your shoulder blades, and then falls back down again. “Did you know you have a birthmark here?” he wonders, breaking the honeyed silence of his tiny bedroom.

Your brows furrow as he traces some sort of outline between your shoulder and spine. “Do I?” you murmur, muffled into the pillow.

“I think so. It’s really faint.”

“Maybe it’s just dirt,” you joke quietly. You don’t see Eddie pull his hand away to lick his finger, but you feel the wet touch of it when it swipes over your back. “Ew, Eddie!” you shout.

“It’s not dirt,” he confirms, choking back a laugh.

“I’ve ever noticed it, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that hard back there. Like, ever.”

Eddie scoffs, almost in disbelief. “That’s a shame…” he murmurs. 

His finger is gentle and featherlight as it trails down your bare back, leaving chill bumps in its wake. His hand dips below the sheets covering the bottom half of you. His palm spreads unabashedly over your ass, wide and warm. 

“…’Cause there’s a real nice view back here.”

You lift a heavy hand to swat at the boy beside you. It collides halfheartedly with his shoulder. He laughs again. “What?! I’m talking about the birthmark, babe! It’s cute— I love noticing new things about you.”

“Don’t people say that’s how you died in a past life? Wherever your birthmark is?”

Your tired eyes open to find Eddie’s screwed-up face. “Does that mean someone stabbed me in the ass? In, like, the middle ages or some shit? ‘Cause that’s a fucking gnarly way to go.”

“Better than being stabbed in the back… Literally.”

Eddie settles next to you with a huff. He lays on his stomach and shoves half his face into the pillow next to yours, all but melting into the mattress. He keeps tracing the mark on your back with an absentminded touch, never anything but gentle with you.

“Wanna know what I heard?” he mumbles.

“Hm?”

“I heard that birthmarks are where your lover used to kiss you— you know, in a past life or whatever,” he confesses, like it’s a deeply held secret. Then he shrugs his milky white shoulders. “That’s what my mom used to say, anyway. And that woman was never wrong.”

You smile quietly to yourself. Eddie doesn’t talk about his mom very often. You feel a special privilege to be hearing about her now.

“I believe it,” you hum.

His contented grin blooms into something wider and more boyish. “That means someone might’ve been kissing my ass in a past life.”

“That’s awful,” you grumble with a scrunched nose. “Now, I have to give you a new one.”

“Choose wisely, princess,” Eddie lilts and turns onto his back. He spreads his arms out wide and beams when you lean over him. “My future depends on it.”

You don’t think very long. Maybe a moment or more. You press your lips to his chest, just below the faded tattoo on his pec and right over his beating heart. You smile when you pull away, all giddy like a teenage girl, and lay back down again.

Eddie’s chest sparkles with so much adoration it hurts. He laughs it off anyway. “Alright, cheeseball— It’s my turn.”

“You have to do it in the same place!” you argue in a tiny voice when the boy lays over you. He props his weight on his elbows and entwines his legs with yours. The heavy closeness feels like heaven.

“Why?”

“So we’ll have matching birthmarks! And then, when we’re in the next life or whatever, and we look like totally different people, we’ll know we loved each other.”

Eddie scoffs. “I’ll know.”

“How?”

“How will I know that I loved you?” he repeats, like the answer’s obvious and far too silly to ponder. You nod, and he shrugs. “‘Cause I have to. I can’t help it.”

Something warm blooms behind your ribcage. “And I’m the cheesy one?” you tease with a big, girlish grin.

“It’s your fault. You bring the worst outta me, honey.”

You laugh when he drops his head to your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart and lingering there. You pray it stains forever.

[bunnysbrainrot]

He Wants to Watch

Kinktober Prompt: Doggy Style

Relationship: Sam Winchester x f!Reader, Dean

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, (lowkey) breeding kink, degrading, voyeurism/exhibitionism, Sam is a little greedy

Summary: It's time for round two, and the younger Winchester hasn't had his fill. Dean is generous enough to let Sammy have a turn, but not without watching exactly how his brother pleases his girl.

** Guessing Game is part 1 - For full context, and more smut, go ahead and read it! I apologize that this is shorter than usual, I’m working on some bigger pieces, and transferring everything to AO3!

Thirty minutes have passed since you collapsed into Dean's mattress, totally sated and limp from pleasure. The two brothers lay on either side of your lax form, caressing your skin with peppered kisses along the way.

Sam locks eyes with his brother, a devilishly curious look glinting within them. Dean's look darkens - a silent agreement.

"How you feeling, sweetheart?" asks Dean, tucking loose hairs away from your cheeks. During the last round, you'd built up a decent sweat that stuck your hair around your temples.

You shift your legs, assessing your soreness. To your surprise, it's not as intense as you'd thought it would be - and paired with the careful massage from the brothers, your recovery time was hurried.

"I'm wonderful," you sigh. Movement comes from behind and a thick warmth presses against your ass.

Sam snakes his arms around your middle and tugs you toward him, away from Dean. There isn't a hint of jealousy on your boyfriend's features. In fact, it seems like he could actually be enjoying this. Sam grips gently at your jaw and cranes your head to face him. That same overwhelming darkness still pools in his eyes; it was a type of shadow that could melt your insides before they're ravaged again.

The blackness of Sam's eyes is not an invitation, or a flirtation. No..

It’s a warning.

Not a word is said as Sam hitches your leg up. You're splayed wide on your side, now with your messy pussy in full view for the brothers. Dean's gaze settles on your displayed cunt, and its proximity to Sam's cock, throbbing and leaking from your past round.

Minutes before, Sam demanded to have you to himself, his words less of a request than a warning. Watching his brother fuck you thoroughly, all the while flaunting what he couldn't have, sent a rush of jealousy through Sam. His cock ached for your dripping cunt - longing to bury itself inside of your walls. It was his right to do so, just as much as his brother.

Sam grips the base of his cock and guides it between your thighs, lining his shaft between your slick folds. He gives a few steady thrusts to lead the head of his cock across your clit, still sensitive from earlier. You whine, looking to Dean.

Darkened eyes greet you. Dean wears a wide, pleased smile on his face, as if watching his brother fuck his own girlfriend could be a source of pride.

"Sammy wants his turn."

A moan escapes you when Sam’s cock brushes against your clit. He slides through your slick folds with a sharp gasp - your warmth kisses the sensitive head, tensing his back from the brush of pleasure. You look to Dean with a confused expression, but your furrowed brows relax when Sam’s cock fixes at your wet hole, eager for his own opportunity.

Your hips relax at his touch and allow Sam to ease his way inside. Sam enters you with a hiss through his teeth. Warmth envelops his cock with every inch, stretching you slowly.

You cry out, whipping your head to look at Sam as he pushes himself inside. His face is contorted in ecstasy, and he lets out a low moan when you clench down onto his length. It’s Dean’s voice that helps encourage you to take more of his brother.

“There you go, baby, just relax. Let Sammy take care of you,” he murmurs, lowering his hand to his groin, taking hold of his own length, pumping himself slowly.

Sam, to his credit, is a bit more endowed than your boyfriend, and he feels absolutely glorious. He has more length to stretch you out, as opposed to Dean’s gift of girth. Regardless, by the time he’s bottomed out, you’re satisfyingly full, mewling into the sheets. He needs to move. You need to feel him.

You buck your hips onto his cock, sinking him into your fluttering walls. A low groan escapes from his chest, thrumming against your back.

“Fuuuck, she’s tight,” he moans, throwing his head against your shoulder.

Dean hums in agreement, still stroking himself next to you. His eyes rove over your form - shaking, moaning, and clenching around Sam’s dick.

After a moment, your slick coats Sam’s length enough to let him in fully, bottoming out in your pussy with a soft groan.

You steady your breathing. You can feel how nicely your pussy is stretching to his size - he’s in your stomach, your lungs, everywhere. He’s far bigger than how he felt down your throat. Apparently your mouth can accommodate him perfectly, but your tight cunt is another matter.

He moves, ever so slightly, dragging his heavy cock through your tight walls to the tip. Sam plunges in with earnest. You cry out at the deeper strike.

Sam’s hand whips around your front to your throat, placing a finger on either side of your windpipe, squeezing down. Dullness throbs through your head as you struggle for a proper breath. His hand eases it’s grip, and the blood rushes heavily back through your head, gifting you a dull ache in your temples, and a thundering rush of adrenaline.

“S-Sam, faster, please,” you whisper. He groans in response, snapping his hips into yours.

The pace becomes relentless. Sam takes no time easing you into it like his brother does - he takes your request and sprints ahead with it, delivering blow after blow to your ravaged pussy.

Dean watches his brother’s cock work itself inside of your entrance, glossy when it leaves with your slick.

“Rougher, Sam.”

Dean’s command shudders through him, and Sam reaches for your waist, shoving you onto your stomach. From this angle surely he can strike deeper. Harder.

With a grunt, Sam hauls your hips upward, slipping from your pussy and giving you a cold kiss of the air. A whimper escapes you, pleading with him to return his heat.

You squirm to brace yourself on your elbows. A warmth prods at your stretched hole - Sam’s cock teases your needy pussy with the thick head of his length. The silence in the room is not one of awkwardness; instead, it happens to add a new erotic element of being watched. Observed by Dean.

Craning your head you can see Dean’s lazy smile as he fucks his hand. His eyes are glued to your expressions, waiting anxiously for it to warp as Sam enters you again.

He does so in one swift thrust. You’re thrust into the sheets again, falling limp into the mattress with the overwhelming pleasure.

Sam’s name slurs around your tongue. Whether it was in protest or pleading, you couldn’t tell. The force of his snapping hips set your nerves on high alert, every inch of you surges as he moves. Your name tumbles past his lips, drawn out like a song. His voice has your back arching - with the deep rumble of the utterance, like a prayer and curse all in one.

His hips sharply snap against your ass. All cohesive thought vanishes as his cock pounds against your cervix, sending a full throb through your cunt. If you weren’t sore with Dean from before, surely you’d have trouble moving now.

“Letting me use you right after my brother,” Sam growls, “you’re such a dirty slut.”

The abrasive words ignite you, leaving you to moan softly into the blanket.

“And I’d bet you want my cum, too, huh?” his voice is laced with venom, as filthy as your body feels, “I saw how badly you wanted Dean’s, I could tell you wanted more. Just a dumb cumslut, aren’t you?”

You manage a nod. Sam’s fingers card through your hair and gain purchase, jerking your head back, angling you to look at him. He braces himself into a kneel and crouches over you, angling himself to thrust deeper, crashing his cock into your sweet spot.

Sam’s voice brushes over your ear amidst the wet slaps of his balls hitting your drenched cunt. Each strike lands on your swollen clit, with small spurts of pleasure following behind.

“Dean,” he begins. Sam tilts his head to his brother, now more fervently pleasuring himself. His strokes are rougher with each passing second. Darkness blows out Sam’s eyes as he asks, “Can I finish inside of her?”

Dean’s brows twitch with annoyance, but his expression shifts. He gives a simple nod.

Go ahead.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he groans. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you plenty.”

You can feel Sam’s smile against your ear before me takes the lobe between his teeth. He talks lowly to drive himself closer. While his brother may take his time to please you, it’s not Sam’s job to prioritize that. This is his once chance, and he’s not patient under the pressure.

“Pretty little cum dumpster,” his words strain, “Two brothers in the same night - fucking filthy. You’re one depraved bitch.”

The words strain the tightness welling in your abdomen. You’re about the snap, but based on Sam’s faltering thrusts, he may beat you to it.

“Please-“ you choke.

“Quiet,” he orders, “you take what I give you, when I give it to you.”

Having no control in it doesn’t upset you in the slightest. After all, you were the girl turned whore when you decided to fuck your boyfriends brother.

His jutting hips lose their rhythm as his orgasm approaches. Sam hisses at the tension in his abdomen before his release spills into your abused cunt, coating your walls with white.

“Shiiit,” he exhales. Sam unsheathes from your used hole, staring pridefully at his cum leaking from your pulsing pussy. It flows downward, covering your gleaming folds and stiff clit in a white sheer. Underneath him, you whine into the bed, clenching your cunt onto nothing, keeping his seed inside.

You pry your eyes open to look for Dean. You find him with his hips slacked and cock leaking into his hand. His own cum stains his stomach in a white gloss. He flutters his eyes closed, completely sated.

Sam helps ease your hips back down onto the bed; he steps away after muttering something about ‘cleaning up’. A moment later he returns with a lukewarm washcloth, tending to your messiest areas, and then working on himself.

He lounges on the bed to your side. You pant softly to come down from the high. Sam’s cum still seeps between your slick folds, reminding you of the filthy deed you two did.

Perhaps out of respect for Dean, Sam doesn’t kiss you afterward. His comfort to you is to stroke a hand through your hair idly as Dean recovers. Your boyfriend grumbles your name before reaching for you.

You give him a once-over, seeing as he hasn’t cleaned up his own ‘aftermath’. You arch an eyebrow at him.

“Clean yourself up, and then we’ll talk.”

You hear Sam’s breathy laugh from behind. Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for the discarded washcloth, doing as you requested.

Hi y’all, I hope you enjoyed! If you did, it would be a huge support if you reblog! Happy Kinktober!

[the-californicationist]

Bright Ideas

I lost the original ask but here's what I copypasta'd. If this was you, tag yourself in the comments! Hope this is what you wanted.

What about an overstimulated Price that has been reduced to whimpering because he overestimated his ability to withstand his partner cockwarming him. 😉  ~~Idk, cockwarming's been on my mind and I'm trying to give you something other than traditional takes~~ but with anal

It was the middle of the night. Your husband, John Price, had woken you up again, wordlessly, with his groping hands and hungry mouth. He had started off gently, but it had changed. Moment to moment he needed more and more from you. By the time you were fully awake, he was squirting out slick lube onto his finger pads and dipping it between your legs, slathering it over your asshole, prepping you again. 

Price had helped you learn how to do anal, and you’d really enjoyed it. He was so patient and gentle with you, and he showed you how to apply the pressure, using himself to do it, letting you rim him and finger him until he came from the pleasure. Needless to say, he was committed to your comfort. 

But, this past week, he’d been ravenous. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time, and satisfying his hunger had been a true pleasure for you. You loved him when he was just a bit unhinged. 

“You alright, John?” You asked, your voice hoarse with sleep.

“Mmhm,” a grunt was his only reply. Then, when you felt his rosy head break through the first tight muscle of your asshole, he sighed, “Just… needed to be in you, love. Is that alright?”

He leaned over you, beginning to thrust in and out of your ass, missionary style, kissing your breasts and neck however his heart desired. You held onto his shoulders and grinded up into him, helping him reach the end of his shaft, stretching you out for the third time that week. 

“Always,” you nodded, kissing him back, “Take what you need.”

So, he did. John sheathed himself inside of you fully, and sighed a long breath of relief as he settled into position. Then, he lay his head on your breast and you felt his whole body relax. The tension went out of his shoulders, the lines on his face smoothed away, and his breathing became steady and even. You pet his back, dragging your fingers and scraping him gently with your nails, making his skin tighten up with little goosebumps. His cock pulsed steadily inside of you when the pleasure of your touch became too much. 

After a few minutes, he checked in with you, petting your hair out of your face,

“Are you feeling good, pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Do you think we can try out your idea?”

A few nights ago, as you were basking in the afterglow of him fucking your absolute mind out in your pussy and then your asshole, John had suggested using your soft silicone dildo as a plug. He said he’d love to feel you full, in both of your holes, while he fucked you, and you readily agreed. 

John smiled up at you now, eager to test his plans. He reached over your shoulder into the drawer and pulled out your favorite toy. It was thick and soft, and you liked clenching around it. Using the wetness you’d already made for him, he coated it in your fluids, slipping it through your folds over and over until it was soaked. Then, he pressed it into your pliant pussy, listening to the slurping, milky noises it made as he did so. 

You felt his length harden and throb as he watched the toy disappear into you, and when he pushed up with his cock’s muscle, the toy moved as well, driving you wild. After a little teasing and an almost-orgasm, he slowed his pace, settling the dildo inside of you to its hilt and laying back across your body, content to warm himself in you again. 

But, now you had a weapon. 

You tested a small, brief squeeze, twisting the muscles inside of you against the toy. Immediately, John reacted,

“Fuuuuhh-ck. Fuck.”

His eyes were wrenched shut, and you saw the sinew in his neck and shoulders pop and shudder under his skin. 

Beautiful. 

You squeezed again, hard. 

“Bloody hell!” He turned his gaze on you, fiery and rabid, holding himself up so he could brace himself. His hips betrayed him, trembling and thrusting into you in short, staccato bursts, somewhat against his will. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You said slyly, brushing your fingers over his cheek and across his open, gasping mouth. 

“Feels…” You heard him start to speak, but you squeezed him again, harder than before, over and over and over, basically fucking him with your tight hole, “Oh, fuck! Feels good. Too good.”

“You want me to stop?” You knew the answer before he said it. 

He growled his response through his tight jaw, 

“No.”

Using your hips as a fulcrum, you twisted them down and back up again, using one hand to hold the toy in place as you slid yourself into his body. His cock was buried deep inside of your ass, and you could feel the head of him rubbing against your sensitive walls. His incredible girth made you feel full on its own. Now that you were stuffed with the dildo as well, you were swollen from his size. 

All you could do was find a rhythm that you liked, squeezing and grinding, thrusting the toy cock inside of you little by little, all while cockwarming him in your ass. You were a wet mess, and you felt it, sticky and thick on your skin. 

“Pretty girl,” John whimpered above you, “Please… I’m…” 

“You feel so good, John.”

“Your tight little arsehole… everytime you… ahh! Oh, fuckin’ hell…” 

He was still shaking like a leaf, holding himself together but barely, letting you get your pleasure first. You felt it building inside of you, sparking and spitting like a firework, and you warned him,

���Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes! Fuck… John, your cock. I can feel you, so deep in me. You’re gonna make me come.”

It was him who cried out first when you tumbled into your blissful release. He moaned softly, almost in shock, as your body wrapped your muscles around him and your toy as hard as it could, nearly squeezing him right out of you. His own core fought against it, pushing him up into you, holding him inside, making sure his seed would spill where it meant to. His biology was overstimulated and overwhelmed by your onslaught. 

John had come with you, and you felt it pool inside your belly, slipping around his cock as he pulled himself from your tender asshole. He was gasping the whole time, his eyes red and full of wonder.

He collapsed next to you, barely able to catch his breath,

“Fuck.”

You giggled, swiping your tongue over his taut nipple and making him gasp again, 

“Yeah. That was good, hm?”

“Too good,” he kissed your forehead and wrapped you up in his huge arms, holding you so tight you couldn’t escape.

AO3 Link

[1800titz]

DOG TEETH | ABO dynamics

alpha/omega au

(Always had an affinity for taking mutts home, you, even if they growled and bit.)

> alpha!Harry, omega!reader, dom/sub undertones, praise & degradation, p in v 8K on patreon

(You remember when he warned you; starting things you couldn’t finish. See it through—)

The sentiment you’ve cradled in the space between your collarbones seeps out in the way your fingers tangle into the wry bed of curls at the nape of his neck. The undomesticated (wild in your spuming bloodstream, riling every nerve ending to kindle in the fire— a twisted paradox) urge to be owned. Claimed. Mated. See it through—

He cradles your wet gasp against the flats of his teeth, the gap between. Your tongue slinks out, lashes fluttering, and you bask in the way he brushes his own against it. 

It’s no jejune delicacy of a first kiss. 

The tentative, eggshell-daintiness of brushing lips— no, it’s all tongue, teeth, sloppy, slick. Your head tipping back with the fingers he snares into the hair at the base of your skull, the fist he wrenches your crown back by. Spit smearing against the corner of your mouth. Humid aphrodisia that settles in the trench of your tummy when he grips you under your jaw, thumb and middle finger denting into the fleshy margins of your hot cheeks. He smears his tongue against yours again.

It’s this— possessive, hungering— a triumph you’ve been chasing from that prepubescent past time. Giving home, in longing, the pooling bliss of your mettle unspooling under the way he pants into your mouth. 

(Nasty, nasty man— the kind you barely know, the kind you shouldn’t let suck on your tongue, never mind in the turbulent window of an incipient heat that’ll make your bones feel like they’re rotting in their sockets.)

“Yeah, that’s it,” you make out the crook of a smile in his words (lewd, coarse), liquified yearning, your eyes half-mast, “Filthy, little omega. Never imagined you’d be such a pretty whore.”

It’s vertiginous. Feral. Makes your world spin on its axis, because this exigency, swallowing you— need, need, need, fuck— is an all consuming rapture (when he sticks his fingers into your mouth— a bunched dyad, middle and forefinger— prying your head back with the heel of his palm still under your aching jaw).

“Sweet, little—“ you vaguely hear over the spindrift of blood in your ears— you don’t even recognize the wanton hum you grant him, tongue out— something that dies on his teeth, gets mottled by a growl (it stems from his chest, reverberates through the palm you still have on him, rocks your fizzing marrow). 

There’s no gentle, callow dubiety (you don’t expect it from him, anyhow) when he pins you, limbs out, on the bed two steps from the front door. Your need— that same, unbroken longing that pulsates in your joints— spills a mist over the aftermath (clothes peeling away, your heart stuttering in its caging, you nipples between his teeth). 

Up until the point where he nestles himself between your thighs, splayed, flat on his abdomen at the foot of the mattress. 

You watch him with a lust-ridden hypervigilance. Like this, with your thighs split, you can smell yourself from the headboard. Your leaking slick. It makes you desperate, gets your face crinkling, forehead scored in ruckles as your hips cant up. 

And Harry plants his hand onto your tummy, under your navel. A monstrous looking thing in sheer heft (cleaned as best as managed, knuckles bruised, split where aged scar tissue was battered back into gashing). The stark size of his hand against your soft underbelly— the way his thumb to his pinky, the shape, sits so perfectly between the verges of your pelvic bone, pressing you flat to the sheets— only makes you squirm more.

“Easy,” Harry purrs. Easy, girl— a luring croon in a dominion-rich tone that makes every atom in your body sing. If the fire rippling across your circuitry wasn’t drawing you into a delirium, surely you’d wear a frown at the smile over his mouth— the mocking. 

Even still, you think, it’d falter at the way he ducks his chin to stipple kisses to your mons, the faint dusting of hair there, eyes flickering up. The electric charge in his soft-spoken echo (instruction, gentle), “Easy, baby.” The, “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” His thumb prying you open, eyes winding, that clots your lungs.

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[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Meet Cute

Meet Cute

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn't want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to "Your Fault," describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).

Era: Hershel farm era.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff (if you squint at it), Patching up someone's wounds.

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. I'll say references to past trauma with survivors, but mentioned only once or twice and not detailed. Blood and gore, because the reader is patching up Daryl's wounds and of course zombies. Cursing, not a lot, but a few words.

Word Count: 4.1K (Oops) (Seriously did not mean for it to be this long.)

Note: There is minimal use of (y/n).  Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.

ENJOY!

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

It was raining and you were having a bad day. You weren’t having a bad day because it was raining, you actually liked standing in the rain, feeling the cool water drip down your face and through your clothes made you feel alive in the best way. It was difficult to find things that made you feel alive, especially after two months in the zombie apocalypse.

You considered yourself lucky, the first day everything went to hell you had slept through it. Pulling a double at the hospital downtown knocked you out and you woke up to the screams and the pounding of feet in the hall of your apartment building.

By then the phones were gone, electricity to the city had been cut off and you were hopelessly alone. Not unwelcome, due to the fact that it had been you on your own since your father had died a year earlier, but still acute enough for you to notice. It took you a week to leave your apartment to try and scavenge for food, even then you were not ready for the carnage that waited on the streets of Atlanta. After another week you realized that you needed to get out, it was too dangerous to be there. The military had failed and there was nothing left for you in the city. So you packed your backpack and said goodbye to your old life. Finding the cabin outside Atlanta was fortuitous, especially after you ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. That being said when you found it originally, it had its quirks. No windows, a door that hung off its hinges, blood stains on the wooden floors, and no running water all made the cabin less than ideal.

But after two months it was home.

You sigh to yourself as you reset the trap, hiding it underneath the wet dead leaves as rain dripped from the treetops above. Someone or something was getting into your traps. It was the third time in a week it had happened and you were starting to get annoyed. You suspected it was a walker, since you continued to find bits and pieces of squirrel in the forest around the trap.

You continue your trek in the half-circle one mile out from the cabin. It was a nice spot, dense forest with a small creek that ran through, small enough to cross, but enough water that you didn't have to worry about going any further to find it. The only time you left the cabin was to scavenge, but that took a few days of preparation.

Rain pattered softly over the fallen leaves, weaving in and out of the canopy above, and kissing your skin. Being alone never bothered you before, but the thought that you might be the last person on earth was different. It was one thing to choose to be alone, another thing to be forced into it.

The sound of shuffling and sliding leaves makes you pause, ears peeled. You did not see too many walkers where you were and figured that because you were in the middle of nowhere there weren't enough people to turn.

The shuffling gets louder and you duck behind one of the trees, drawing your pistol from the belt at your waist. It was a gift from your father when you moved to Atlanta to start your residency. Target practice every week made you a good shot and helped blow off steam when shifts at the hospital were tough. Unfortunately, you hadn't been able to find many bullets, which prompted you to carry a hunting knife on the opposite side of your waist. The only ammo stores you found were stripped down and desolate. Sometimes you worried what would happen when you ran out.

You hear the heavy exhale of the walker as it continues through the woods behind the tree where you are hiding. You peer around the tree trunk, watching it shuffle along. It's wearing dark clothes, blood dripping from its side as it hunches over and travels away from you. A crossbow is strapped along it's back at an awkward angle and every step it releases a heavy exhale.

You click off the safety. Probably the same walker that's been eating all my squirrels. You think to yourself as you aim the gun at the back of the walker's head and take in a deep breath. But just as you pull the trigger, the walker stumbles to the left and the bullet scrapes along the outside of the walker's skull.

Shit.

As it falls, it hits its head on a tree stump and lies still, face down. You come out from behind the tree cautiously, replacing the pistol at the holster on your waist and pull out the hunting knife. The walker doesn't move.

Okay. I can do this. I can do this-

You tap it with your boot. It groans once, but doesn't make an attempt to get up. Wait. If its groaning and not moving is it not-

You bend down and grab the back of the walker's shirt, avoiding the crossbow to roll it over, and suddenly realize, it's not a walker, it’s a man.

SHIT.

"Hello?" You poke his chest once, twice, but he doesn't respond. "Um- Sir? Are you okay? Can you speak?"

Why did I just call him sir?

The man groans softly, but does not open his eyes.

SHIT.

You hadn't run into many people in the apocalypse. Saw them from afar, but never approached one. Your father had instilled in you that desperate situations bred a new kind of person. No one could be trusted. The one time you had run into a group, you learned that the hard way. You shake it off and look down at the man on the ground.

He's covered in a layer of dirt and grime, a necklace of walker ears hangs over his dark green tank top, a large hunting knife hangs from his waist next to a child's doll, and blood soaks through the side of his shirt.

Why does he have a doll? Is he like one of those truckers on the highway that has a teddy bear strapped to the front of their semi? Because that's kind of weird.

You stepped closer to examine where the blood has stained his shirt along his side. He's really hurt.

You raise your head to look around the forest around you. He doesn't have a pack, his camp must be nearby. Which means that there might be others that come looking for him.

You look back down at the man where the bullet scraped through his hair, watching the blood trickle down the side of his head. You think about leaving him there. I don't know him. I can just walk away no harm done-

You bite your lip. I can't do it. I can't leave him here. You curse your conscience. Now I just have to haul him the entire mile back to my cabin, without waking him up or hurting him.

Great.

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

Dragging him back to the cabin through the woods and up the front steps took over an hour. You were too afraid to drag him back quickly, afraid that it would do more harm than good especially because you were unsure how bad the wound on his side was. He hadn't woken up, a bad sign, but you were optimistic.

Guilt momentarily fills your chest. You wouldn’t have shot him if you knew he was still alive. You probably would have just let him go on his merry way. But then you think about how he stumbled.

If I let him go, how far would he have gotten? Maybe me taking him is better than the alternative.

Staring at him laying on the hardwood floor made you wonder if this was a bad idea. You didn't know him. He might have a group somewhere and he might be faking to find out where you lived.

If he is faking he is certainly committed. You mused gazing down at him again.

He was older than you, by a few years at least, with brown hair that stuck out in different directions. Your eyes sweep his clothes, nose wrinkling at the strand of walker ears around his neck. His clothes were dirty, covered in dirt and dead blood. You had taken great care with his crossbow, setting it down on the small wooden table that you usually ate at, noticing how clean it was.

He must really care about it.

You couldn’t help but notice how small the man looked laying on the floor. And it made you feel more guilty about shooting him.

You walk away to get your medical bag, it was on the makeshift kitchen counter on the right back wall. The cabin was one room, in one corner there was a giant cabinet filled with whatever cans you could salvage, in another there was a wooden counter with a non-working sink, a small fireplace sat on the left wall, and in another there was a small twin sized bed covered in mismatched blankets. You had been prepping for winter, moving further and further into town to salvage what you could and storing chopped wood against the inside wall by the fireplace. The thought of winter scared you more than you’d care to admit. Especially with the squirrel traps giving less and less each day.

I wonder if this is the person stealing all my squirrels. You frown to yourself. Maybe I shouldn't help him.

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground  and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea. Granted I also would have that reaction if I woke up in a strange place.

"I'm a doctor. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You collapsed and I noticed you were bleeding."

He backs up towards the door without turning around, eyes wild, body tense, ready to spring.

"Wait please. I feel really bad-"

The guilt is back now as you look at the scrape along his head and the blood soaked shirt.

"Why?" The man narrows his eyes.

 "Because I-" You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. "I thought you were one of those things and I shot you. I'm sorry."

"You shot me?"

"Yes. I mean, you stumbled at the last second and I missed, but I'm also pretty sure that you hit your head pretty hard."

"What?"

"It felt wrong to leave you there.”

“I don’t need your help.” He spits.

“You’re probably right.” Your hands are still palm up in front of you. “But I thought it would be stupid if you survived this long with those things out there and then died from an infection. That's pretty pathetic." You smile sheepishly at your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn't smile.

Well the good news is if he leaves I'll never see him again, and I'll be able to forget about this entire awkward exchange. Who am I kidding? It’s going to haunt me at night, right up there with the time I tripped and ate it on the way to the microphone at my 8th grade talent show.

"I don't want your help." The man says again as he turns to go, but groans when he feels the muscles on his side strain with the movement.

"Please." You breathe. "It'll take ten minutes then you can leave and we never have to see each other ever again."

His eyes are still narrowed. They skate across your body sizing you up. “Are you alone?”

The question makes a cold shiver travel down your spine. It's the question that made you avoid other survivors, the question that made you tie your hair up under a hat, wear oversized clothes to hide your body, and a scarf to hide the bottom half of your face.

“If I say yes are you going to attack me?” Your throat is thick when you ask it.

He shakes his head.

You watch him curiously, but even though he’s pointing a crossbow at your chest you don’t think he’s lying. “Then yes.”

The man stands there for another few seconds. “Five minutes.”

“Fine."

He makes no move to lower the crossbow.

"Is it okay if I move or are you going to shoot me?" You raise an eyebrow.

The man sighs and finally lowers the crossbow, which you take as confirmation that you can pick up your medical bag.

What am I doing? I should have just let him leave. You think to yourself, watching the way his eyes dart around the cabin.

You both stand there awkwardly for a second. “You can just sit on the bed. It'll probably be easier than the chair.”

He sits down, but places the crossbow next to him on the bedside table, as if preparing for you to attack him.

You tried to remember the training you had for dealing with unwilling patients. Of course when that happened the hospital let them leave, but you didn’t want him to leave. You felt guilty for shooting him and you felt guilty for dragging him all the way here. And despite not knowing him, you were worried.

He could barely move without it hurting, what would happen if he left? One of those things were sure to get him on the way back wherever he came from.

You pull up a chair, so close to him that your knees are almost touching, and place the bag on your lap, looking through for your supplies.

“How long have I been here?”

“A little over an hour. Took me a while to drag you here. You’re heavier than you look.” You smile up at him, but he continues to frown.

“Are you really a doctor?”

“Why would I lie about that?” You shuffle through the bag, placing the supplies on the bed.

“I don’t know.” He shifts. “You don’t look like a doctor.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“No. You're just-“

You wait for him to think of it, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Okay.

“This is going to hurt just for a second.” You soak the cloths in the antiseptic and raise one to the side of his head. The man flinches away from your touch with narrowed eyes. “For this to work I’m going to need to touch you.” You say softly with a gentle smile. You were under the impression that he wasn't mean, rather he just wasn’t used to other people.

He leans forward, looking away from you to give you access to the side of his head. Your left hand brushes away the strands of hair from where the bullet scraped along his head, dabbing with the cloth along the shallow wound. You were happy to note that it didn’t need stitches, but you still wanted to clean it out. The man doesn’t wince when the cloth touches his skin.

“I’m y/n by the way.”

He waits a beat. “Daryl.”

You continue to clean along the wound, concentrating on getting as much blood and dirt away from the opening.

“Have you been out here alone this whole time?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“No.”

Guess he doesn’t say a lot.

When you finish with his head, you start to reach for his shirt, but Daryl jumps hand twitching towards the crossbow.

“It’s okay." You smile at him.  "I want to look at your side. If you could just take off your shirt-"

“No.”

“But I have to see it-“

He frowns at you. Finally, Daryl pulls up his shirt only enough for you to see the wound on his side, but no further. Just under the cloth of his shirt where it stops, you see remnants of pink scar tissue.

You try very hard not to look at the pink scar tissue, but you were curious. Was that why he didn't want me to take off his shirt?

He’s not looking at you. In fact the only time he made eye contact with you was when he was holding the crossbow.

“You might need to lie down for this one.”

Daryl eyes you again, before finally he lays down on his side, still not looking at you. The wound on his side is deeper, two piercings that go from the front of his abdomen and through to his back.

Did he shoot himself with the crossbow? How is that even physically possible?

“What happened?”

“Fell.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think I’m going to need to pour the antiseptic in this one and it's going to hurt. You can hold my hand if you want.” You put your left hand on the bed as a peace offering. He doesn’t take it.

Or not.

As soon as the liquid touches his skin, Daryl fists his hand in the mountain of blankets, clenching his teeth together.

“I know I’m sorry.” You can't help but touch his arm and he flinches back away from you. “But now it’s clean and you don’t have to worry about infection.” You go through the motions with the stitches, pulling the needle through the skin smooth and steady, surprised that Daryl does not react to the needle. You reach for a bandage to cover the affected area. "Okay, so keep this clean, don't raise your arm up too high or the stitches will rip, change the bandage in a day or so. I'm going to give you one to take with you. Do you want some painkillers? I think I have some in here somewhere."

"No."

"Okay." You stand up and move out of his way so that he can get up from the bed, before beginning to look through the bag for a spare bandage.

Daryl stands there for a minute with his crossbow dangling from his right hand as if he's not sure what to say.

"Here." You hold out a bandage.

"Don't need it."

"Are you sure?"

Daryl nods once.

"Well if you rip your stitches or decide you want another bandage, you know where to find me." You can't help but smile at him. 

As much as you were afraid of him at first, you couldn't help but like the interruption in the monotony of your day. And despite his gruff exterior, you liked talking to him. Which was surprising given the fact you hadn't liked talking to anyone else in the past.

He doesn't say anything, instead he starts to walk to the door of the cabin, but he stops. "Thanks." Daryl doesn't look away from the door.

"You're welcome. Be careful out there."

And then he's gone, leaving you in the still silence of the cabin once more.

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

The next few days pass as they usually do. You check the traps, scavenge for water, read a book by the fireplace at night, but every time you leave the cabin you hope to see Daryl again, hope that he'll come back because he needed that bandage or maybe will just come by to sit in utter silence.

That last bit seemed the most in character.

You didn't want to admit to yourself how disappointed you were in the silence that followed his exit. Not because he spoke that much, but even his presence in the cabin made whatever this was easier. Before you relished in the fact that you were alone, but now after you met him, it felt too quiet.

However, you had noticed more dead in the area over the past few days and that made you worry.

What if Daryl never made it back to wherever it was he was going? What if he had gotten attacked as soon as he left? You tried not to think that, because Daryl looked capable enough to survive in the apocalypse. Definitely seemed capable when he held a crossbow to your face.

You jolt awake to the sound of someone frantically knocking against your door.

What?

You tighten your hand on the hunting knife under your pillow before you sit up in bed. Maybe I dreamed that.

Someone kicks open the front door of your cabin.

Definitely didn't dream that.

A ball of fear lodges in the back of your throat as you grab the gun on your bedside table, holding it up between you and the dark figure standing just inside the doorway.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice shouts.

"Daryl?" You lower the gun watching the dark figure turn to barricade the door.

"We have to go."

"Daryl what's wrong-" As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you hear the moaning and shuffling of the dead  followed by the pounding of hands against the door.

Fear makes your entire body freeze. You had been in Atlanta long enough to watch the chaos, watch what happened in the streets, the memories of what you saw keeping you awake more than one night, memories of the masses of bodies swarming survivors and the ungodly screams that followed.

"We gotta go.” He grabs your wrist and hauls you out of bed.

In case of an emergency like this, you always slept fully dressed. You clip your belt around your waist before putting the gun back in the holster and throwing your oversized jacket on over your t-shirt. Your pack is on the floor by the back door. The medical bag is small enough to shove inside the black backpack.

“Come on!” Daryl grabs your hand and pulls you out the back door, dragging you through the woods behind him.

You glance over your shoulder. The moonlight above illuminates the mass of walkers that surely would have destroyed the small cabin and you inside.

He came back for me. The thought makes a surge of gratitude warm in your chest. He didn't even know me and he was willing to fight his way through dead infested woods to save me.

Daryl shoots one that stands in your way, glancing behind him to see the mass of walkers that follow, before letting go of your hand and reloading the crossbow.

“Where are we going?” You shout running behind him, gun drawn.

“Up ahead-“ He responds over his shoulder.

You break out of the tree-line onto a road, where a motorcycle waits haphazardly on the edge of the long grass.

He jumps on the motorcycle revving the engine once, looking up at you expectantly. You don’t hesitate. You kick your leg over the side and wrap your arms around his waist to secure yourself. Daryl's muscles tense as you do, but the motorcycle shoots off, the sound of the engine masking the moans and shuffles of the dead emerging from the trees behind you.

You drive for a few miles, far enough that you put your face into Daryl's back to block the onslaught of wind that comes up over the road.

As soon as Daryl hits the interstate he weaves through the broken cars, before finally parking in the median. The world sounds quieter without the roar of the motorcycle, you notice as the smooth silence of the night returns.

"Why did you come back for me?" You ask him, as you get off the seat before you can stop yourself.

Daryl lights a cigarette, not meeting your eye. "You helped me."

"After I shot you."

"You missed." He shrugs.

You snort. "I did." You look out over the desolate interstate where cars are haphazardly parked and empty luggage cases spew clothing onto cracked pavement. "So what now?"

Daryl blows out a lungful of smoke. "You could-" He stops.

"What?"

"Well." Daryl shifts his feet, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Daryl?" You try to catch his eye worried that he's going to tell you to go away, that he's going to say goodbye right here right now.

"My group is supposed to meet up here." He doesn't meet your eye. "If you want you could come with us, but you don't have to." In the moonlight you swear you see his ears turn pink.

"Well," You sigh looking around. "How else am I going to repay you for saving my life? Might as well stick around."

"We're even."

"No. I think saving someone from zombies trumps suturing a wound. Plus, somebody's got to make sure you don’t shoot yourself with your crossbow again."

Daryl frowns. "I didn't shoot myself with my crossbow."

"I think that you did and that you're too embarrassed to say anything. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

He continues to frown at you, but it only makes you smile wider.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

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

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, be sure to read "Your Fault!"

[gay-opossum-in-the-garbage]

DoeBall

————————————

Summary: You don’t recognize Doe in his true form at first

Warning(s): Mentions of obsessive behaviors, not proof read

Pairing: GN Reader X John Doe/Can also be read as You X John Doe

Perspective: 2nd person past tense

————————————

You had been cleaning for god knows how long. You wished that you could just lay in bed all day with your day off, but with how dirty your love was and how small the apartment was, it was a necessary evil.

Speaking of your love, he had been gone for a while now.

He was constantly wracked with anxiety when you left the house to buy groceries without him because of how dangerous the Valley was (and his general clinginess) so he insisted on doing the grocery run while you cleaned the apartment.

And you were perfectly fine with that, sure you loved him but his obsessiveness got a bit tiring at times. It was nice to spend a little time alone.

But it was a tad bit odd that he had been gone for so long. You checked the digital clock on the counter.

6:64 pm

He had left 3 hours ago. Usually he only took around an hour to do groceries since he only needed to visit one general store. That combined with the fact it was raining heavily outside made your stomach twist just a bit. You sighed and decided to focus on cleaning for now.

He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

No matter how many times you swept there was just more and more dust. You made another dust pile and sat on one knee, struggling to sweep the dust into the dust pan with the strange angle. Trying to maneuver the broom with just one hand was straining your wrist.

You sat there for what felt like 30 minutes just sweeping up the little lines that the pile made. You had finally whittled it down to one little line, and you finally breathed a sigh of relief as you swept it into the dustpan. You stood up and looked down at the floor.

There was still another line of dust.

You breathed a long frustrated sigh and slapped the dustpan on the kitchen island. You were going to put the broom away when you heard something from the living room.

*CRASH*

You jumped and tightly gripped the broom, eyes wide staring at the closed door separating the kitchen and living room.

You silently listened for any other sound, staying stone still.

You breathed in and out deeply and consistently, slowly creeping towards the oak door. You gripped the cold door handle, the cold contrasting your sweaty palms.

You breathed in and flung the door open charging head first into your small living room.

You let go of your breath and felt your shoulder relax a bit as your stared confused at the scene in front of you.

A big 2 foot ball of wet, black, curly hair with a big, yellow eyeball in its center was standing (well it didn’t really have legs, sitting?) in the middle of the room. It simply stared at you, looking shell-shocked.

It suddenly pounced at you at lightning speed. You let out a quick but loud yelp and smacked the broom down in front of you, missing the hairball by just a few inches.

“Get! Get back!” You said assertively as you threatened the creature with the red handled broom. It whimpered like a dog and jumped away like a cat being scared by a cucumber.

You pushed it back towards the door and cornered it against the couch.

With your newfound control over the situation you finally fully relaxed and actually looked at the thing. The more you looked at it, the more it looked… familiar.

“Doe!?” You dropped your broom and found your hands on the sides of your head, holding your hair, “what the hell happened!?”

You reached down and scooped up the big ball of hair, which you now knew was your lover, and held him at eye level while you spoke.

He had talked about his “true form” but you had never actually seen it before.

You had no idea his hair was his actual form.

He swung his tendril-like strands of hair around like arms, making chirps and other animalistic noises like he was trying to explain something to you.

You cocked your head to the side. He stopped suddenly and wrapped himself around your right arm, small whines coming from him.

You sighed and petted him while you grabbed a soft towel from the kitchen. You put the towel on his back and flipped him onto the towel like you were getting a cake out of a pan.

You fully wrapped him in the towel, making sure to leave his eyeball exposed. You held him close to your chest, the warmth of your body cutting through the cold of his wet one.

You sat down on your soft couch, him purring softly in your arms. He wrapped some tendrils around your neck, pulling you closer and purring even louder.

It was nice just cuddling like this, but you felt awful for attacking him and extremely confused why he hadn’t shapeshifted back yet.

“Hey baby?”

The little hairball look up at you, a little heart replacing his pupil. Well at least you knew he wasn’t mad at you.

“I’m sorry for threatening you, I thought you were some feral cat that broke in or something,” he let out a strange little noise that resembled a laugh, you smiled and continued, “and I love cuddling you like this, but why haven’t you shapeshifted back yet?”

He looked at you for a couple of seconds, pupil back to normal. He jumped out of your arms and and started walking towards the door of your shared bedroom, scratching at it like a cat.

You sat up and let him in, where he immediately started rummaging through his drawer. You shared a dresser, the top two being yours and the bottom being his.

He rummaged through the drawer for a few seconds before pulling out a mason jar with teeth and clothing scraps. He shook it, the contents shaking around. You looked into the drawer to see similar containers, with some being filled with…well you didn’t want to know. You swore one blinked at you.

“And you showed me this…why?” You questioned.

He untwisted the jar and started eating the contents right in front of you. A mouth that reminded you of a leech’s opened at the base of his eyeball and a long snake-like tongue wrapped around the contents in the jar.

You knew he ate teeth and you found some bite marks in your old clothes, but seeing him do it right in front of you and in this fashion was, well disturbing to say the least.

Finally he was done with his feast and shooed for you to the leave the room. After what you just saw you were perfectly fine with that. You closed the door, but pressed your face against the door.

There were strange fleshy noises for a couple of seconds. He opened the door, causing you to fall into his arms. He giggled and patted you on the head.

You looked up at him with a smile and cupped his face in your hands and warmly kissed him.

You pulled away and put a hand in his lips so he wouldn’t go in for another kiss.

“Okay, explain”

“I need materials for my faux body before I can fully shapeshift back. That’s what my snacks are for”

He giggled a little near the end with a big goofy smile on his face.

“And about the groceries?”

“It started raining, my fake body can’t handle water. I lost them darling, I’m sorry”

He nuzzled into your neck and you could feel him frown.

“That’s okay hun, we can just order some”

You could feel him start to smile softly after that.

“Oh, and I forgive you my love~”

He talked into your neck, softly purring and pulling you closer.

“You sure forgive quickly honey”

“How could I not!? You’re the love of my life! I love love love you! I could never be mad~”

You still felt a bit bad, but for now you just held him close, loving the warmth of his body. You stroked your fingers though his still slightly damp hair and kissed him on the neck softly.

He grabbed you by the small of your back and lifted you up, swinging you around and holding you bridal style, lovingly kissing you on the neck. He closed the door of your bedroom behind him and plopped you on the bed.

He wrapped a soft blanket around the both of you and held you tight to his chest, stroking you on the back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and put your head under his.

You knew you still had to clean, the house was still quite dirty.

But.

This was more important.

————————————

[hearts-hunger]

evergreen — part four

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: It's raining, and you wake up alone.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: fluff, angst, emotional h/c | Word Count: 2.3k | Warnings: sexual innuendo

A/N: You voted not to make Jake and Sparrow suffer any more, so I only put in a teensy bit more angst. Let the comfort part of the hurt/comfort commence ♡

You woke with a start, listening to the steady roll of thunder that washed over the sound of the heavy rain in the darkness. The window was still open; you could feel the cold, wet breeze and heard the way it had started to settle in your chest with congestion. You shivered and lay in bed for a long while, watching the way streaks of lightning lit up the room in brief silver flashes.

Jake’s side of the bed was empty. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or bereft that he was gone; part of you wanted to let yourself be held, but the other part of you was ashamed to even be near him. This whole mess was your fault, and you were sick with guilt and regret as thoughts spiraled and spun their wheels in your head.

What had gotten into you? Talking to Jake like that, fighting with him, using him and letting him use you — all of it made you bleakly ill, a rockiness of the mind rather than the body. For its part, though, your body ached and protested every moment; neither of you had been gentle, and the consequences of it made themselves known in the soreness of your muscles and the tenderness of places you knew would be marked on your skin.

You wished Jake were with you, if only so you could let him brush his fingers over the places he’d left bruises and hickeys and red stripes from his nails. To feel his touch be gentler, to return it with a soft glance of your own fingers over his marks; you thought it might help. It felt wrong, unfinished, to leave each other without the conversation and soft laughter and tenderness you always shared after you slept together. Like a puzzle missing the middle piece.

You looked at your phone to see what time it was, and under the glowing numbers reading 7:43 pm, you saw a text from Jake. 

Went for a drive, he'd said. I hope I'm back before you wake up, but if I'm not, I love you. Don't be upset, sparrow. We'll talk when I get back. Love you love you.

You felt a weak smile surface as you read it. “Love you love you” was an inside joke, started when you accidently sent the same message twice a few months ago. You set your phone on the bedside table and rose to take a shower, examining the marks on your skin as the hot water ran over them; you hurt all over, in your heart as badly as anywhere physical.

Out in the living room, you found Josh and Baby on the couch, unsurprised to see Dirty Dancing playing in the background as they worked on a puzzle spread out on the coffee table. Danny and Sam were in the kitchen making what smelled like cookies, and you heard the kettle whistle before Sam took it off the heat.

Josh looked up at your entrance and nudged Baby. She looked up too, and their twin looks of concern and mild panic could almost have been comical if you’d been feeling any better.

“Hi, honey,” she said, patting the spot next to her on the couch. “Come here.”

You did as she said, sinking into the overstuffed couch and gratefully accepting the blanket she spread over you. She brushed her hand through your tangled hair, very gently.

“How are you?” she asked.

You shook your head and buried your face in the blanket. 

“Okay, sparrow,” she cooed. “Sit tight.” She got up and asked Danny to make you a cup of tea; when she returned, she sat on your other side, squeezing you between her and Josh, and started to brush your hair.

“Joshy?” she asked. He hummed in answer.

“Will you go get your conditioning spray from the bag in the bathroom?” she asked. “I didn’t think to grab it.”

He went to get it for her, and Danny and Sam came in bearing several mugs of tea and a plate of Danny’s famous chocolate chip cookies. 

“Here, sparrow,” Sam said, handing your treats to you. “Might be a little warm.”

Josh came back with his fancy, expensive conditioning spray and handed it to Baby.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

His smile was a touch bemused. “‘S just hair stuff, sparrow. I don't mind if you use it.”

The five of you settled in around the coffee table: Sam sat in the easy chair with Danny at his feet, playing with Danny’s hair; Josh sat on the floor to keep working on his puzzle, giving your knee a comforting pat as he did; Baby gently brushed through your hair in slow, methodical movements.

You felt your throat get tight like it did before you started crying. You were so thankful for your family, for their patient and selfless care even when you’d been the one to start all the trouble.

“Jake went out earlier,” Baby told you. “In case you were wondering where he was.”

You nodded. “He texted me.”

“Oh. That's good.” She started to gather your hair into sections to braid it. “He didn’t say when he’d be back, but... maybe you're okay with having a little break, huh?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “Maybe.”

When your braid was finished, she tilted your head back and kissed the crown of your head. “It’s gonna be alright, sparrow. He can't stay mad at you.”

“Oh, I don't know,” you said weakly. “This one was a doozy. You heard it yourself.”

Josh arranged a set of edge pieces into place. “Yeah, but you... you made up, right?”

The pink in his cheeks made you blush, knowing that your “making up” had been loud enough to be broadcast to everyone else.

“Well, it was sort of... It wasn't really...” You trailed off, embarrassed and sick with yourself. “It was a mistake. Not that we didn't mean to do it, but... we shouldn’t have. Not like that.”

Baby ran a comforting hand up and down your arm. “Yeah. It happens. Heat of the moment and all that. You’ll feel better when you talk to him.”

You gave a bitter, heartsick laugh. “That’s what started the whole thing. I tried to talk to him about the bedroom thing, and... you heard what happened. It was my fault, really. I made it a huge mess.”

Josh frowned. “What bedroom thing?” He looked around and saw that everyone else knew what you were talking about. “I’m out of the loop.”

“Jake picked his old room yesterday,” Danny said, a little dazed and dreamy as Sam played with his hair.

Josh grimaced. “You mean his one from last year? Why? Even I could have told him that was stupid.” He looked up at you. “Now I get why you were yelling at him.”

You couldn't help the tears that spilled over then. As foolish and oblivious as Jake had been, the real fault was with you for not saying anything.

Josh’s expression softened. “Aw, sparrow. I didn't mean to make you upset. I’m sorry.”

You only cried harder, thankful you’d heard that from Josh, wishing desperately that you'd heard it from his twin. Jake had every right to be upset with your passive-agressiveness, but you couldn't help but need some kind of understanding and apology from him.

Josh came to join your on the couch, taking your hands in his. “Sparrow. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I mean, yeah,” you said pathetically, “but I really need to talk about it with him, and he's not here.”

“He shouldn't be gone too much longer,” Sam offered kindly.

“Did he say when he'd be back?” you asked hopefully.

“No, sparrow. I'm sorry. Do you want me to ask him?”

“No,” you said miserably. “Let him go drive around creation for all I care.”

If you hadn't been too busy crying, you would have seen Danny slip his phone out of his pocket to text Jake. Your dear friends, your family, watched you with careful, worried gazes and tried to ask each other silently what to do.

Baby took the lead, maybe in tune with your feminine needs more than the guys could be. She leaned back on the couch and pulled you close to her, stroking a hand over your neatly braided hair.

“Okay, sparrow,” she said gently. “Let’s just sit for a while. You want to watch something else?”

You shrugged helplessly, burying your face against her shoulder.

“I know what we should watch,” Danny said. He pulled something else up on the tv. “This’ll work, right?”

You heard Sam give a soft laugh. “Yeah. Worth a try, anyway.”

The unmistakable sound of the Bluey theme song started to play, and you gave a watery laugh and managed to lift your head from Baby’s shoulder.

“Now you’re just trying to see how much I can cry,” you joked, and you got four sympathetic smiles in return. 

“I tried to pick a funny one,” Danny said. “But it’s okay if you want to cry some more, sparrow.”

You settled in to watch a few episodes, and as you laughed together at the antics and tender moments of the show, you decided Danny’s choice had been a good one. Tea mugs were refilled, another batch of cookies taken out of the oven; the only thing that was missing was Jake, and if he’d been there, despite everything, you would have been content.

At the end of the fourth episode, all gazes turned towards the door to see a wet, bedraggled Jake come inside. It was clear he’d hoped to sneak in unnoticed, and when he saw he hadn't, a dull blush showed under the shadowed look on his face. 

“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly. 

Josh cleared his throat. “We’re watching Bluey.”

“I see that.” He ran a hand through his damp hair that had started to curl. “Can I... can I borrow sparrow for a minute?”

They all looked to you, and you felt your face heat. Jake was watching for your response with some kind of need you were helpless to resist, not knowing if you could meet whatever need it was but determined to try.

“Sure,” you said, untangling yourself from the blanket and the protective care of your friends to go to the one who needed you, your partner, the love of your life no matter what had happened between you. His look of relief cut you to the quick, and you came close to him and hoped your face showed how much you wanted to love him like he was asking you to.

“Can you get dressed in something warm?” he asked quietly. “I want to... well, I have something to show you.”

“Okay,” you agreed. He could have asked you for the moon, looking rain-soaked and tired as he did, and you would have tried to get it for him. You gave his hand a quick squeeze and left him to get dressed, hearing a quiet conversation between him and your friends drift down the hall.

Dressed warmly as he’d asked, you rejoined him at the door and gladly accepted his hand when he offered it. He led you outside and stood on the porch with you, looking out at the rain.

“You up for a little walk?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. Anything for him.

You walked together in the rain, holding his hand as he led you through the darkness. You didn't ask where he was taking you; he could be leading you out for a late-night swim in the freezing cold river and you’d still go. This was your apology, your assurance that you trusted him, your reminder that you would stick with him in the rain and the dark as willingly as you would on a bright, sunny day. He seemed to know and kept you tucked close to his side, safe and warm and loved, always.

You stopped short when you saw where he was taking you, that sad, strange something that had twisted inside you in bed now untangling into something warm and deep and heartsick with love for him. Under the sheltering canopy of the evergreen trees stood a little tent, snug and cosy and lit with fairy lights, a safe haven in the middle of the storm. 

“A love nest,” he said. His voice was hesitant, unsure. “A real one. For you, sparrow.”

You swallowed. You didn't know what to say.

“You don't like it,” he said. It was a statement, not a question, and it broke your heart.

“No,” you said quickly, softly, turning to look at him. He was soaked and cold and tired for love of you, and you felt you could never really tell him how much you loved him.

“A love nest,” you said. You touched his cheek. “For sparrow and her Jake-bird.”

He gave a watery laugh, desperate and sorrowful and so, so relieved. “Yeah. For sparrow and her Jake-bird.”

Your little love nest was only a few paces away, but he needed you here, in this moment, and you wouldn't have denied him for anything in the world. You pressed close and kissed him as the cold rain fell on both of you, and he gave a shuddering sigh as he held your face in his hands and gave you all the love you needed, more love than you could ever deserve.

“I love you, sparrow,” he said. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I love you.”

“Jake.” You hugged him tight, resting in his warmth and safety and the feeling of home he would always give you. “I love you too.”

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[hallokatzchen]

Invitation (NSFW fic)

Part 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Word count: 1,431

Contains: Masturbation (solo), voyeurism, mutual masturbation, classic trope of someone seeing their boss in a way they're not supposed to see, a friendly reminder that Miguel is a strong motherfucker

Summary: Miguel catches you watching and invites you to join him.

Author's note: This contains no dialogue.

Miguel awoke with a stretch. Not a traditional stretch, mind you, since he was still laying on his stomach. His arms were hooked around his pillow that was firmly tucked under his head, and with a deep yawn he arched his hips until he felt the tension in his lower back leave with a satisfying pop. He exhaled through his nose as his hips lowered, and gave them a slight twist so he could lay partially on his side to relieve the pressure on his hardening cock. A sound akin to a purr bubbled in his throat when he felt it drag heavily across the sheets.

He hummed and reached out to stretch out his left arm. His hand splayed out past the edge of the bed and his talons extended with a soft click before they retreated back into his calloused fingertips as his hand slid over his chest and down his stomach.

A low sigh left his parted lips when his hand passed over the coarse thatch of dark hair that trailed down his lower stomach, and his fingertips gently grazed over the base of his cock. His long fingers flexed to close around his shaft, and he rolled his hips with a quiet moan when he felt his foreskin slowly pull back from the head.

He gasped when he felt the cool air on the damp head of his cock, and moved his hand down to catch his precum into his palm. A copious amount pooled in his hand, and he moaned a little louder when he readjusted his grip and his shaft slid easily through the warm wetness. Completely unaware of his bedroom door slowly moving just enough for someone to peek in to see if he was awake.

You saw him nestle his cheek into his pillow and relax with a sigh while he lazily fucked his hand. The soft morning light filtered through the floor to ceiling curtains and bathed him in its warm glow, highlighting the powerful muscles of his lower back as they flexed and showed their definition with each slow push and pull of his hips.

Your face grew hot and you looked away when you heard him moan, and the sinful sound ended with a breathy call of your name. You weren't expecting that at all on your early morning errands, and you definitely weren't expecting to see Miguel staring directly at you when you looked back through the door.

You froze like a deer in the headlights, but in this case the lights were the warm red glow of his eyes holding you captive.

His mannerisms were like a great cat. From the way he laid on the bed. His long, lean body stretched out and turned at the hip as he laid near the edge of the bed. To the way he slowly blinked his heavy lidded eyes without breaking his stare as he continued to leisurely rock himself into his hand.

The wet slide of his hand and the soft rustle of the material of the pillowcase were the only sounds in the room as his right arm reached out. The movement languid and smooth as his hand turned for a come hither motion. His lips pulling into a sly smile when he saw you realize that the motion was made with his ring and middle fingers.

You swallowed hard and bit your lip at the way his long fingers moved. You blinked and shook your head to snap out of their hypnotic lull, and entered his bedroom. You pushed the door closed until it latched, and nervously approached his bed.

You stopped right before you reached his outstretched hand and took in the sight of him. Even in a prone position you could tell how big he is as your eyes trailed over his naked body to take in what seemed like an endless expanse of tan skin. Of course you lingered on the sight of his cock. The dark skin of his shaft glistened with his precum as it moved slowly in the grip of his large hand.

You gasped when you felt his clawed fingertips lightly brush over your thigh, then flick the hem of the skirt of your uniform in a silent command to lift it. You immediately reach down to raise your skirt, your cheeks blushing while you bunched the material in your hands to reveal your soaked panties.

Miguel licked his lips and gently curled his fingers into your thigh to get you to move closer. You froze for a moment when his claws lightly snagged your skin, and quickly moved towards him to avoid being scratched. As soon as you stepped forward, the same fingers he gestured with immediately hooked and pressed against your sex through your panties.

Your knees buckled, and in a show of strength he caught you and held you up, his big arm showing no signs of strain at all when you ended up sitting in the palm of his hand. A smug smirk crossed his face as the sudden pressure on your crotch pushed out a gush of wetness that flowed over his palm.

When he knew you were steady again, he continued to press his ring and middle fingers against you. He gauged your reactions to his touch and pressed his thumb firmly against your clitoris and rubbed it in a slow circle before he worked the fabric of your panties to the side and eased those two fingers into your wet cunt.

He began to move his fingers in time with the slow motion of his hips. His long, thick digits filled you better than your own ever could, and you whimpered and stood on your tiptoes when the tip of his middle finger brushed against your cervix.

He took advantage of your little maneuver and raised his hand to keep you at that height. His fingers still moving at an achingly slow pace, and a small chuckle shook in his chest when he saw your legs tremble and you had no choice but to sink down on his fingers. His strong arm held you in place and made sure that you couldn't put your feet flat on the floor.

Time passed and he looked over at the clock on the nightstand. He literally had you in the palm of his hand for over twenty minutes. Teasing you and edging you. Watching you break down into a sweaty, trembling, drooling mess as he brought you so close to the edge numerous times but refused to let you fall.

The sight of you so desperate and needy around his fingers was enough to bring his own release closer. His expression was soft, almost serene, as he watched you with heavy lidded eyes. The movement of his hips switched to long, deep strokes while his grip tightened around his shaft, and the fingers seated deep within you mimicked that pace. His calloused pads pushing against your g-spot again and again until you came.

You cried out and squeezed hard and throbbed around his fingers. Your legs were already weak from not being allowed to touch the floor, and you yelped in surprise when you felt yourself move forward. Miguel raised his arm and tilted you just right so you collapsed against his arm instead of hitting the floor.

You scrabbled to grab onto him, and clutched tightly onto his bicep as he pulled you over to the bed and dragged you close to him. He removed his fingers from your cunt, the wet sound echoing loudly in the room. He wrapped his arm around your waist, smearing your juices on your skin when his hand slipped under your shirt and squeezed you to press his fingers into the soft flesh of your side. Urging you to watch him come.

His head moved from his pillow to your lap, and he placed a gentle kiss on your warm skin while he squeezed himself just right to spur his release. You felt his breath against your thigh as he exhaled, and your eyes went wide when you saw his cock twitch and a thick stream of come went splattering onto the floor.

His breath was hot and heavy on your thigh and his teeth grazed lightly on your skin when his second wave hit. He earned a shudder from you when his tongue peeked out to lick at your skin when he heard you gasp at the mess he made on the floor, and smiled as his thoughts turned to not wasting a drop the next time.

[goszixx]

Just a kiss 2

✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞

Note ❈° ≫ Thank you for all the support on the first part!

Part 1

Warning ❈° ≫ Oral (f receiving), needy Choso! Overstimulation, begging, thigh riding, male masturbation

✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞

The bob of Choso’s Adam’s apple seemed so taunting when he swallowed the lump of anticipation. “Thank you.” Choso babbled, his eyes glossy and hooded.

His knees shuffled together once again to keep his cock in check. It was more clear to you now, the wet spot on his bulge where his tip leaked. His hands were once again bottled up, stacked on top of his muscular thighs.

You stared at him a bit before leaning closer. Choso’s eyes caught onto your panties, since that and a half button up shirt were the only things you were wearing. You came back from work when you noticed how bothered your boyfriend was. He wouldn’t look at you when you got home besides a simple nervous smile and wave. You then tried to give him a kiss like normal but he dodged.

Now look where you two are. Swiping your finger under his chin, you dragged your nail across his jawline, feeling the hot skin with an amused glare. “That means you can do it? Not cum while I’m kissing you?” Choso’s lips quivered over nothing from the question. He wanted his lips on yours so bad. He loves the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

His tongue guided over his teeth, once again in a trance and unable to say a full sentence without stuttering. “Yes.” His answer caused you to adjust on his lap, placing your dripping pussy onto his thigh. Even though you were wearing panties, he could still feel it. The wetness, the warmth. It sent chills across his body.

One of your hands clutched his face, rubbing the tip of your thumb against his red cheeks. As soon as your lips touched his, he was in ecstasy. It was barely a tap, simple skin to skin contact, but Choso’s dick only grew in its confinement.

Your tongue poked at the middle of his mouth, squirming before pushing past his plush lips. Choso whimpered when your tongue slid across his, claiming his mouth with closed eyes. Your mouth moved with your hands supporting his neck and face. Choso slumped against you. He prayed this would end soon, precum oozing from his boxers and down his thighs.

Back and forth your hips rolled, using his thigh as if he was another sex toy at your disposal. Fingers reached up to his hair, tugging on it slightly to adjust his mouth to explore all of him. You took your time, rolling your tongue across his.

Slowly, you pulled back. Hope flooded Choso’s clouded mind until he felt your pretty lips wrap around his tongue, sucking on the muscle ever so gently. His fingers dug into the plush of your hips, easing you across his thigh. Your wetness dripping down the curve of his knee.

A muffled whimper broke from his lips, his chest pressing against yours as he heaved. The pressure only made it worse on his pecs, his sensitive nipples catching onto the fabric of your shirt.

When he felt your index finger swipe against the perky bud, he choked. “W-wait.” Choso cried into your kiss. You rolled your finger in circles over the glistening bundle of nerves, your other hand still guiding his chin.

Cheater. “This… not the deal.” Choso whimpered, his legs shaking under you as he attempted to rut against you. His body couldn’t take it anymore. He hasn’t felt your touch in forever, he hasn’t been able to taste you for so long. Your scent mixed in with the lavender in the air. Your fingers pinching his nipple, rolling it along with your slow thrust on his thigh.

His body moved on its own, his hand adjusting you so you rolled over his cock. It twitched under you, your heat smothering it.

Feeling you clench over nothing over and over again made his mind foggy. His fingers guided you back and forth, his chest slumped over your body as you continued to fuck his mouth with your own. It was too lewd to classify it as kissing. Drool dripping down Choso’s chin as he continued to pant and beg. His muffled voice showered you in praises, saying how he wants to touch you and how good you feel.

He came with a stuttered moan, blush flushing his cheeks when you let go of his chin with care. His exposed back pressed into the back wall.

An amused hum came from your lips, seeing the man still hard and throbbing. “How did that feel?”

You slid down, feeling yourself stick to him as you rose to your feet. At this point, his underwear was doing him no favors. It covered nothing with how saturated you left him. “So good. You feel so good.” He pushed out, head tilting up to meet your eyes.

“I want to s-suck on you so bad… my tongue needs it.” Choso’s tongue lolled out from his own words.

The sheets crinkled from your added weight. You settled yourself in a comfortable position, back pressed on the pillows that cluttered the headboard. “Since I got a little carried away.” You started, beckoning him to come closer.

Choso picked himself up and stripped himself of the rest of his clothing. Though you’ve seen him naked hundreds of times, he struggled in embarrassment under your gaze. “Yes, you did.” Your boyfriend uttered as he leaned over your body.

He was between your legs, his index finger hooked into your panties before peeling them off. At this point, his own tongue was twitching and stimulating from the look of your pussy. Your horniness oozed out, your puffy clit stimulated and begging to be touched.

A chuckle left you from the hungry look Choso glowed, “go ahead Choso, you earned it.” Your legs settled on his shoulder, his lips sucking and kissing your thighs as you spoke.

In a faint, raspy voice you hear Choso mumble the words ‘thank you’ under his breath. You thought he’d immediately dive in, but the man waited. He watched you squirm under his kisses as he inched closer to your core.

Once he was close enough, he took two of his fingers and spread your lower lips open. Hearing the wet noise the action made caused red to bloom around your cheeks. A relieved moan pushed past Choso’s lips as he finally sucked on you. His tongue lapping at your insides, determined to taste all the wetness he caused to ooze out of you. “Choso…” His name left your lips, your fingers balled into a fist while your other hand dug in his long hair.

You could feel his fingers spread open a bit more as he took his time adjusting his tongue in and out of your pussy. His own tongue shook inside you, his eyes hooded as his cock pulsed underneath him.

Saliva dripped down your core as Choso’s lips parted further. The two fingers retracted before sliding to your hole, the wet noises increasing as he pushed his fingers inside of you. “Shit you taste so good. I miss my tongue inside of you my love.”

You could only nod in agreement, your eyes squeezed shut from pleasure, moans pushing past your lips. “Thank you, love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Choso cried as his hot breath fanned your puffy clit.

“Shit Choso!” You moaned as his lips surrounded your clit. His wet tongue rolling across the bundle of nerves ever so slowly. He sucked your stimulated clit, no doubt twitching from already cumming on his thigh earlier. His fingers curled inside you when he found that spot that made your legs tremble.

You opened your eyes slightly as you struggled to not cum. However, seeing Choso’s messy hair beneath your fingers, his cheeks dusted in pink as he drooled over your cunt.

Behind your trembling legs you can see his large hand wrapped around his dick. His tip disappeared in his hand as precum rubbed up and down his shaft, pooling at the base of his cock. He felt you tighten around his fingers and decided to replace them with his tongue.

The muscle worked deep inside you and you rutted your clit against his nose. You fucked his face for what felt like days, enjoying every last moan that broke through his lips.

“Cum on my tongue ok my love?” Choso pushed out, wincing from the ache in his dick.

Both your build ups bursted at the same time. His cum sprayed on his chest as his tongue lapped up your wetness. Your cum trickled down his chin, the rest coated his tongue before he swallowed. The most dazed smile peered from your lips when Choso started to kiss your thighs once again.

Your legs trembled when you noticed how hard he still was. “Sorry my love I need more. I need to taste all of you.”

[whoxeology]

⛧☾༺♰Restless♰༻☽⛧

WARNINGS: Mentions of past relationship with Luke, Spoilers for Ep 8 PJO, Angst, Cliffhanger, very much so not canonically accurate, not proofread

W.C: 0.7

A/N: I have not read the books only knowledge I have of PJO is from the movies, TV series, and multiple fics I have read. With that being said this is purely for fun. You are more than welcome to disagree and leave feedback.

A/N: I kinda fell out of my PJO phase after the last episode but I wrote like right after the last episode dropped and forgot to post it 🧍🏻......... its here now 🤗

Again. Again. Again. Again. You continue to hit the dummy over and over again. The wooden sword dug into your palm as it hit the stuffed mannequin. You had hoped that training would help take things off your mind but the events from last night played over and over in your head. It was like a broken record or a taunting little kid annoying and making you bubble with anger.

You weren't supposed to be there. You were supposed to be with Annabeth watching Clarrissa. Annabeth had disappeared and you were left alone with the target. She had made a snarky comment about if you wanted to make friendship bracelets with her since you seem to be glued to her ass. She and you weren’t friends mainly because of how rude she was to Percy. Her comment made you realize that she wasn't Percy's friend and that meant that the prophecy couldn't have been about her. 

You had rushed to find Percy and Luke. You couldn’t believe your thoughts you didn't want to think that Luke, amazing boyfriend Luke, your Luke could be the traitor. You had hidden in the treeline just a few feet from Percy and Luke. Everything seemed to be okay which made your chest loosen up a bit. Then you heard it. 

“I didn’t think you’d give ’em to Grover to wear.” 

“How long have they been doing that? '' Percy’s voice pulled you from your mind. The loud clank of the sword could be heard as it made contact with the dummy. Actually, dummy would be an overstatement at this point. This was just a bag of straw on a pole with a face on it. A face that awfully resembled Luke's. The hitting got harder the pole holding the bag of straw was shaking with every hit. 

“Since this morning, they couldn't sleep and as soon as the curfew was over they got up and immediately came here” Annabeth spoke. You knew it was her. She's been periodically checking in on you since you got here. 

“Have they eaten or drunk anything at all? It's nearly 100 degrees out here” When was the last time you ate or drank anything. The subtle grumble in your stomach reminded you that it had in fact been a while. You ignored it fueled by anger the hunger faded. 

The once loose feeling tightened by a lot. Your chest felt as if you had been hit full force by a bull. Your hands shook as you reached for your sword. The sword Luke had gifted you. Tears spilled from your eyes leaving wet trails down your face and a salt ting on your lips. It was Luke all along. How could your Luke do this? Everything you thought you knew about him. Gone. 

“I am your friend.” 

The loud crack of your sword drew you from your thoughts. You had broken the wooden sword in half. The large blade splinted jaggedly down the middle. Tossing it aside you hastily pulled out your sword. The beautiful golden glimmer on the handle reminds you of Luke. You swung at the dummy and you swung hard. The harsh bangs were heard throughout the camp. 

“She’s going to end up breaking the poor dummy”  Percy tried to joke to ease the tension in the air. You didn’t acknowledge the joke still hitting the dummy as if it was Luke all over again. 

“Better the dummy than us” Annabeth muttered barely loud enough for you to hear. You swear Luke had said the exact same thing to you when you had pissed off Clarrissa. The memory of you and him laughing turned sour in your mind. A loud almost thunder-sounding crack echoed throughout the camp. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at the source. The source was you. You had hit the dummy so hard you had cracked it in half.  

You were panting hard. Sweat covered your entire body as your shirt stuck to your back uncomfortably and your bare thighs stuck together the shorts you wore in hopes of keeping you cool failing. Your fingertips were white from how hard you had been gripping your sword. The blood-red gems leave imprints on your palms. 

You were still thinking of last night. 

“Are you okay you don’t look so good?” You could hear his voice. It was fuzzy and spun around in your head. You turned to face him. To tell him you were fine. You spun around fast only to be met with two Percy Jacksons. 

“Huh?” was all you said as your sword slipped from your grasp and you fell to the side. Head hitting the land before it all went black. 

 “Percy, none of this was meant to betray you”

[aneurinallday]

The Tragedy of James Steerforth

Chapter III: The Calm Between Storms

Steerforth wasn’t sure how long he wandered, nor how far. The coastline seemed to go on forever. He was treading on grey pebbles of all shapes and sizes, worn smooth by the tide. Occasionally, a small crab camouflaged against the stones would reveal itself by moving. He spotted the discarded exoskeleton of one - tiny, fragile, and as white as porcelain, perfectly preserving the shape of the creature that had worn it. When he tried to pick it up, it broke in his hands.

Mindlessly, he started to collect pretty shells, admiring their beautiful designs, then tossing them away again. His guilt was unbearable. He tried not to think about his mother, about his former friends, about anything. By the time he stopped, the sun was high overhead, peeping through dense clouds. He was desperately thirsty, but he knew better than to drink the saltwater.

It was low tide, and the sea had drawn back to reveal its hidden treasures - shells, bits of rotting wood, rusty metal, and translucent blobs which he realised were dead jellyfish. In another universe - a universe where Ham was unkind - Steerforth’s body would’ve washed up here, just like these jellyfish.

He watched the relentless, repetitive wash of the waves against the shore. They seemed to call out to him. He took off his knee-high leather boots and wet socks, and held them in his hands, and continued barefoot. The rocks and debris hurt his feet, but he didn’t care. He walked down to meet the swell, and stood at its edge, letting the white froth flow past his legs. In and out the waves came, in and out.

As he watched the sea dance to and fro, just as it had for many millennia, he considered the pointlessness of his own brief existence.

What had the great James Steerforth ever truly accomplished? What had he ever done that was worthy of remembrance?

Perhaps he should’ve stayed on the sinking boat. Perhaps he should’ve refused to be rescued. Perhaps he should’ve simpy let go of the rigging and let the waves claim him.

Even now, the option still presented itself. All he had to do was walk forward until there was no longer earth under his feet, and surrender to the currents, and he would be forever free. Free from his shame, free from his remorse, and free from the listless ennui that had tormented him for his whole life.

For as long as he could remember, he’d felt empty and lost. Despite his large fortune and Highgate mansion and doting mother, and despite the gregarious and cheerful face he presented to the world, true happiness had always eluded him. His entire existence until Yarmouth had been one of meaningless luxury without hardship, without challenge, and without direction. From the moment of his birth, his destiny had already been decided for him, and he’d had no say in what he would become. He’d never quite known who he was, or why he was here, or what he was supposed to be doing - the bored angst of a rich young man who had everything in life except a purpose.

He’d thought that his fling with Emily would bring him some excitement, maybe even a fresh start in life, but instead it had brought him only regret - the realisation that he’d ruined the poor girl’s reputation - causing him to abruptly leave her in the middle of their escapade.

And now he was faced by the ultimate question - the final question. Whether to choose life or death.

In front of him lay the sea, beckoning him with its promise of escape. But behind him lay human civilisation, luring him with its many joys and miseries and chances and vices. Death meant freedom, but life meant pain. Pain for himself, pain for the people he would wrong…and most importantly, pain for the people who’d wronged him.

After a few minutes more, Steerforth ceased his meditation. He turned his back on the sea and began to walk.

He was holding his water-filled boots in his hands, and limping. He had no hat, no cane, no luggage - just the clothes on his back and a seething, burning hatred in his heart.

Finally, after a lifetime of searching, he’d found his goal.

He would rise from the dead - well, perhaps nothing that dramatic, but he would rise from his ignominy and reclaim his lost pride.

He would return to London.

He would be James Steerforth again.

And he would ruin David Copperfield.

Chapter IV: Old Friends

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Twelve - Rest

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

The night before the battle left you with nothing but a vibrating ball of emotion. A large camp was set up on the Miron side of the Amvista river hidden among the thick and tall trees of the woods. Only a few fires were lit to make certain that Erbus did not see any signs of life.

The moon has been in the sky for about five hours at this point, leaving it a little after midnight. 

Jeongin bid you a good night about two hours ago, leaving you by yourself in front of the campfire. Despite its warmth, you still find yourself shaking, and you’re not sure it's from the chill in the air. 

Tomorrow everything will change. 

Elves have been considered outlaws in Erbus for close to thirty five years, and finally, tomorrow, action will happen.

Thoughts of your mother and father float around your head. If they could see where you were now, you’re not sure how they would react. First and foremost, they would just want you to be safe; that’s all they ever wanted.

You found safety in Miroh.

It wasn’t until recently that you realized that you never felt as though you needed to have eyes on the back of your head while walking through the Keep. There was never that tingling of danger in the back of your mind to watch your back. 

“A soldier up late on the eve of battle?” a smooth voice comes from behind you.

Tearing your exhausted gaze from the fire, you look up at Hyunjin. His sharp eyes are looking at you closely, scanning all over your face.

You hum and look away from him back to the dancing flames. 

“Someone needs to watch the camp.”

“There are soldiers on guard around the entire perimeter. Worry not, mercenary, get some rest. You appear as though you desperately need it.”

Your jaw clenches and your body shrinks in on itself a little. Your shoulders slump forward and chin dips down towards your chest. You’ve avoided mirrors purposefully for at least a week.

“If it makes you feel any safer, you can rest your head in my tent for the night.” Hyunjin adds.

You perk up a bit, a tent means warmth. The last few nights you either spent sitting on a log in front of the fire or curled up on your side in your bedroll, aching for warmth.

Winter was only a month away and this year it felt like it was coming early. Frost clung to the grass well after sunrise.

You pause, looking down at the dirt for a moment. “I would very much appreciate that.”

When you look up at Hyunjin again, he only smirks and jerks his head in another direction. “Come on then. Everyone will be waking up to march in only a few short hours.”

Quickly, you stand up from the log, grab your bedroll, and follow the mage. As soon as you walk away from the campfire, a wet coldness seeps into your bones. It feels like you jumped into a frozen lake before standing up.

Hyunjin leads you over to his small tent in the middle of camp. It’s nothing special but you know the canvas walls will keep you from frosting over with the foliage. 

He ducks inside first and you follow him. His bedroll is already laid out with a small lantern and book next to it.

The wall of warmth that hits you curls around your body like a blanket. An immediate sigh of relief leaves your lips. The heat is such a welcomed contrast compared to your frigid skin, it almost makes your joints ache from the extreme difference.

Hyunjin walks over and slides his bedroll to the side to give you some room. With your two sleeping bags side by side, there is basically no more room inside the tent. 

“Have you been sleeping outside these past few nights?” he asks as he watches you set up your sleeping space.

“More or less.”

“Pardon?”

“I am not really able to sleep much these days.” you admit, not looking over at him. He sat down on top of his bedroll, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Is there a reason for this?” he prods more.

You think for a moment before shaking your head. “Nay,” it comes out as a whisper. “If I am being plain with you, I cannot recall when I last was able to sleep for more than an hour without my eyes opening.”

The mage only watches you, his head cocked to the side.

You continue, “Perhaps it is the idea of war that is keeping my brain awake. Since Jisung’s return to Miroh and the Jarl’s official declaration of war my mind has not known rest.”

While talking, you open your bedroll and slink inside, letting the warmth envelope you in a fabric embrace. The inside was coated with sheep’s wool.

Back in Erbus you had it commissioned when you had gotten a lucky break and raked in more gold than usual one month. It was large and cozy, its weight on top of your body was comforting and familiar. 

Hyunjin turns a knob on the lantern and the flame inside goes out.

You stare up at the top of the tent. “I do fear that my exhaustion will affect my abilities tomorrow.” The last confession comes out a bit quieter than your previous words. “But no matter how hard I try, I cannot rest. I believe it may be driving me mad.” you let out a gentle laugh with the last bit.

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, watching you get settled in your bedroll. He cocked his head from side to side, as if weighing something in his head.

Finally, he lets out a sigh.

“Make room.” he says suddenly, crawling towards you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Make room for me in your bedroll, mercenary.”

You looked at him as if he had three heads. Your eyebrows pulled together in a shocked manner, your mouth hanging open slightly.

“Did you hit your head again?”

Hyunjin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you want to sleep or not?”

“And how exactly would me letting you in my bedroll make me sleep?”

He lifts an eyebrow and smirks down at you. “What sort of thoughts are you having?”

“What sort of thoughts are you having?” You repeat his question back at him, your voice raising.

“Hush.” He quiets you down and lifts the one corner of your bedroll. “Make room, Y/N.”

You yank the blanket back from him and scoot away from him a small distance, balking. “Explain yourself first!”

He reaches forward and drags you back towards him by the blankets, you clutch them closer to you. His hand grabs your wrist through your bedroll, the grip is tight, but not in a painful way.

“Will you please trust me, Y/N?” he asks. His voice took on a different tone. It’s softer, calmer, as if trying to soothe you.

He looks down at you with such a pleading look to his eyes, he genuinely wants to help you. You just wish you knew what his plan was.

You sit there for a few extra moments, staring at his face closely for any sign that he was pulling a stunt. “You truly are going to help me sleep?”

“Aye, you have my word, Y/N.” He places his fist over his chest.

You sigh, “Fine.” You lift the corner of your bedroll and scoot backwards, leaving him with plenty of room. “But by The Six, if you do anything I will-”

“I will not.” he says sternly.

Hyunjin nimbly crawls inside your bedroll; the bedroll that felt extremely roomy only a few moments ago now feels close, but not suffocating.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had a second body inside of it.

His body heat immediately fills the fabric. The chill from outside is nowhere to be found inside this enclosed space, it’s like you have your own personal hearth right here in the tent. 

The mage shuffles around, trying to get comfortable, he leans over and grabs his own pillow, stuffing it under his head and turning on his side to face your body. 

How are you supposed to sleep? Your body is now on high alert, you’re aware of every single movement he’s making, every breath he’s taking.

You’re laying on your back, he’s shifting around to your right. 

When he finally settles down, he speaks up. “Come here.”

Your head snaps over to look at the mage, he’s turned on his side and is fully looking at you. Again, your expression pulls into an incredulous stare. Before you can say some nonsense, he preemptively cuts you off.

“Y/N, just come here.”

You roll your eyes and hesitantly turn on your side to face him. Suddenly, he reaches one arm out and wraps it around your body, bringing you impossibly close to him. Both of your faces are centimeters away.

Your eyes widen.

Hyunjin’s hand slowly trails from your waist, up your side, over your shoulder until he finally cups the side of your face.

His fingers are so soft, you half-expected them to be calloused from battle and working primarily with fire. But the skin is so smooth and settles on your face nicely. His thumb swipes under your eye and along your cheekbone, his pinky and ring finger caressing your jawline.

In the darkness, you can see his lips part and his eyelids droop a bit. 

For a few seconds longer, he stares at your face. Both of your eyes lock and your breath hitches. His deep red gaze is hard to break away from. It’s like he’s caught you in a trap. A dazzling, scarlet trap.

Then, you feel it, his hand begins to warm up even more. But it never turns hot, it only stays warm, like he held them over the fire for a minute. A slight tingle pricks at your skin where his fingers rest.

It’s not unpleasant in any way.

Slowly, his eyes close and his brow furrows only slightly in concentration.

“Relax.” Hyunjin whispers, the exhale fans over your own lips.

How are you supposed to relax when your exhales are mingling with one another? When you can practically feel his heartbeat as if it was your own?

You do not close your eyes, you continue to stare at his doll-like face unabashedly. Everything about him is absolutely perfect. There’s not a single blemish to be seen on his face, smooth, soft skin and silky hair. 

He had it down loose for sleeping. The chunk of red is still present. 

After about three minutes, your eyelids begin to droop in a way that you haven’t felt in so long. It feels like there’s tiny weights attached to each of your eyelashes. That always present straining headache begins to dull and fade.

All of your muscles relax and untense, even your jaw slacks slightly.

“Relax,” Hyunjin repeats again, his words a soft whisper. And again you feel both syllables against your own lips.

With each blink, your eyes close more and more.

A calmness washes over you. Your bedroll is suddenly comfier than your bed in the keep. The sleepiness that you’ve craved for so many nights now is finally taking you.

The hand on your face moves slowly and cards through your hair, gently brushing away any strands that fell in your face. His fingers comb through the locks gently, lulling you further and further into dreamland.

“Rest now, Y/N.”

Just as your eyes close completely, Hyunjin leans over and presses his lips to your forehead. Like a shockwave, a flood of peace goes down your body at the contact.

You’re not sure how long he keeps his lips to your skin because by the time you could register the action, sleep finally took you.

----------------------------------------------

Warmth. An unbelievably comfortable warmth surrounded your entire body. It wrapped around you like a serpent and kept you in its tight hold.

Voices of soldiers outside stirred you from your first real sleep in two or three weeks. Your eyes no longer felt as though they were straining in their sockets.

Everyone was packing up for the battle. It was time.

“Hyunjin,” you hear Changbin’s voice from outside the tent, “Wake up, we leave in thirty minutes time.”

His footsteps recede from outside the canvas tent.

Hyunjin? That’s right, you were in Hyunjin’s tent.

He used some sort of magic to finally allow you to fall into a restful, dreamless slumber. 

The weight on your waist suddenly tightens and you’re held tighter against something solid. Is that…?

A soft groan comes from behind you and your body tenses up. It absolutely is. 

Hyunjin moves around a bit from behind you, his arm still tightly wound around your midsection, bringing you flush against his long, lithe form. Every part of you was molded against him. From your back to your feet, every body part interlocked with his.

As he’s waking up, his body writhes and his hips move against yours a bit. Much to your chagrin, it sends a shock wave up your spine and into the base of your neck. 

He lets out a long yawn, the heat from his breath blows over the back of your head. Hyunjin’s head dips down slightly and is pressed between the top of your shoulder blades as he stretches out his legs. The arm around you is only getting tighter.

Does he know you’re awake? Does he realize it’s you that he’s holding like this?

With one final stretch, he releases your waist and runs his hand up your side like he did last night. He traces each curve of your body and stops at your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he says in your ear. When had he leaned forward? “You can quit pretending to be asleep.”

You stay quiet for a moment longer before opening your eyes, it’s still dark outside. 

If the army was going to make it to Fort Mire by first light, you all needed to leave soon. 

Hyunjin rolled his body away from yours, peeling himself from the bedroll. When he lifts the blanket, a rush of cold air finds its way inside the warm blankets.

You hiss and curl in, grabbing the blankets closer to yourself. He only laughs at you. 

A silent moment settles in the tent. 

“I had not had rest like that in so long,” you admit quietly, Hyunjin stops shuffling around and watches you as you roll over onto your back to look at him. “Thank you.”

The last interaction you had with the mage had ended poorly; truly, it was at both of your faults. 

Hyunjin watches you a little longer before nodding, a slight smile on his face. It’s genuine and reaches his dark red eyes. 

“Aye,” he says simply, “If you need my assistance again, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he ducks out of his tent to go prepare himself for battle. You watch him leave and then look up at the top of the tent, the ghost of his touch still haunting your skin. 

----------------------------------------------

Not a soul was speaking. Every soldier fell in line and marched silently, boots hit grass, armor clinked, horses walked along the dirt.

The legion had crossed over the Amvista by bridge about an hour ago. 

When your boots hit Erban soul, you thought that it would bring about a wave of complicated feelings, but truly you were only met with one: anger. Red, hot, burning anger.

You want to be nervous for this fight, so badly you want your mind to be reeling with every possible outcome, every way for you to fail; but the only thoughts you have are ones of battle induced rage. 

The army suddenly came to a halt at the top of a hill. At the bottom sat Fort Mire. From where you stood, you could not see if Erban soldiers were running around or if your presence was made aware of. Yet.

The sky was lighting up, the sun should be rising any second now.

Changbin sat on his horse in front of everyone. For a moment you could only see the back of his head as he watched Fort Mire for a long moment. He turned his horse around and stared out among the sea of his soldiers; men and women all ready and willing to give their lives at his command.

He squeezes his thighs and his horse slowly walks parallel with the front line. The commander continues to look out among all the faces.

When his eyes find yours, he hesitates for a split second. You nod your head as imperceptibly as you could, he does the same and looks away.

“Today marks Day One of the war that history will remember.” He says strongly over the sea of soldiers. His voice is even and confident. “On this day, you will raise your sword for the Elven lives that were cruelly taken from this world. No more will these sinful devils torture the innocent lives of our brothers and sisters.”

Changbin reaches down and unsheaths his sword and holds it up in the air. “Today we fight for the voices that were stolen! You will fight for each and every soul who was beaten down into the dirt! You fight for them!”

He holds his sword up in the air and every soldier around you issues a mighty battle cry. Some hit their swords against their shields, others stamped their feet in the dirt making the ground vibrate. 

“Today we take Fort Mire!”

Another scream.

“Archers ready!”

At this point, you’re able to spy a lot of movement happening down at the Fort. Soldiers were scrambling to wake up the ones that were sleeping. 

The front line of archers in front of Changbin take out their bows and knock their first arrows, each movement is almost synchronized.

Changbin turns his horse to face the Fort, his sword still held aloft in the air.

“Erbus will know the wrath of Miroh! On my mark!”

You pull your sword from your hip with other soldiers. Everyone starts shifting on their feet in anticipation. 

Loud yelling is echoing up from the Fort.

“Aim!” Changbin yells and each archer pulls their arrows back, bows aimed up at the sky.

You suck in a large breath, your body humming.

“Fire!”

[baby-jaguar]

John Price; Drop Everything Now.

Part 2

CW: PTSD, Songfic inspired by "Sparks Fly" (Not in a cringe way I promise)

GN!Reader who is a sergeant on TF141. WC: 2,262

AN: I needed to post this before I completely tore it apart (again) and decided to scrap it. LMK if you'd like a part two because I have a good chunk of it but unsure if I'd like to continue this since I want the PTSD to linger and not be just diminished because reader is love of his life (I'd like to at least try to have some realism, rip). This was actually created for a test run of writing PTSD so I am happy to take any constructive criticism or tips for writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Being stationed in the Middle East meant that you weren't used to much besides the hot sun baring down on every activity you did and dust storms that would blow over, which effectively made you shut your mouth to not breathe in the dirt. However, that didn’t mean that Mother Nature would not bless the dry lands with an ounce of rain every once in a while. 

You wouldn’t know about the rain usually unless you were outside training or on a mission when the dark clouds would roll in, giving you a rare break from the sun. Other times, the clouds would cover the stars and moon in the night sky, but you wouldn't be able to tell just what kind of clouds they were. 

And that, unfortunately, is how tonight is going without your knowledge.

The rain was never an issue on base, its greatest hindrance being the lack of vision, the annoyance of getting wet, and the general time it would take to wait it out. However, there was always the unspoken thought of the thunderstorms that could arise. 

You’ve served two years within TF141 as a sergeant, having been recruited and transferred to be on base under Price’s command. Now having some experience under your belt, you’ve seen a thing or two- but nothing compared to your superiors.

From an external point of view and reflection on yourself, it brings a possibility that your mind has yet to realize if the memories are getting trapped within yourself. Your nervous system may have gotten stuck in the past at a few points in time, but while you remain living in the action, your biggest symptom is nightmares and anxiety that you brush off each time.

The same can’t be said for your Captain.

Price, with his two decades of service, has lived through more than you could ever imagine and things he wishes to not recall. He plays the classic tough guy act, brushing his emotions off as something he can deal with when he’s home and not deployed- nor does he want to even believe they are necessary to process, his ways still being a bit old-fashioned.

When you were recruited, his viewpoint shifted a bit. Price wasn’t sure that you would be a good fit within the team, and debated putting you on a platoon further down the branch that he still oversaw from time to time. Yet, during your grace period, he would check up on you- being sure to debrief with you after long days of training exercises or drills that were getting harder and harder. When you had proven your worth to him and the team, an unspoken agreement between you two was formed. You would casually reside in his presence but keep it under the notion of him offering guidance to the rookie. This often resulted in you filling out reports or paperwork on your laptop in his office while he worked at his desk.

Price was not a sharer of his inner turmoil. But, sometimes, you would confide in him and he would allow a sliver of a softer man to peak out in the late hours of the night.

That's how the deeper part of your relationship worked with him. Hard-ass by day, and a mildly reserved man by late night. You’re close with the entirety of the team, but you’ve always had an attraction to Price, classically never trying to show it or verbalize it to anyone. Yet, you had a good hunch that he already knew from your softened behavior towards him when the veil of superior and subordinate came down to friends in the dark glow of his office.

You knew it was a bad idea to ever indulge yourself in having his attention and reciprocating it, but now you over-indulged for the last year and find yourself with a cavity at the sweetness you suck from his words. Your mind is always left in a trance on any touch he unknowingly spoiled you with; a hand to the small of your back, adjusting your elbows if you were using a heavier loadout during training, or a pat on the head after a job well done.

Tonight, the storm rolls in with thunder chasing right behind it. 

It's late in the evening as you stand in the common room, having had dinner late, and washing the dishes while quietly humming to yourself. The subconscious part of your mind notices the flashes of lightning and deep thunder that penetrate the barriers of the base but leaving it as a non-threat. You wash your dinner plate, moving the sponge around, but before you can put the plate down to dry, your phone rings with a call from Price. 

It's not unusual for him to call when he decides he’d like your presence while completing paperwork, yet your eyebrows furrow as you see the time to be later in the night than his usual request.

Before you can even speak into the phone after answering, your ear is polluted with the sound of his ragged breaths; the sound of rain hitting the ground is amplified more than what you hear while being inside. It sends a roll of skin-prickling anxiety down your spine as your eyes widen. “Price?” You ask after a blink, trying to understand what this call could be.

You hear it when he speaks, a tremor in the back of his throat and you can imagine the adrenaline-crazed look on his face. The sound of your name is called from him, and it almost sounds questioning, as if he isn't sure it's you, even though he called.

“I- I don’t know where I am…” He pants out, sounding choked up, trying to swallow air and the lack of saliva in his throat while in the pouring rain.

Drop everything now

Without a second thought, you drop the plate, the clatter of it breaking once hitting the ground echoes in the common room and snaps everyone's attention on you. Not having any need for apologies or reason, your body is already supplying the adrenaline needed to set into a dead sprint out of the common room as you weave past the other bodies to push through the hallway and enter the stairwell with the clamor of the metal doors swinging open.

“John, where are you- tell me what you see.” You call out as your body gets set on autopilot, practically flying down the stairs of the barracks and onto the ground floor moving into the hallways. “Do you see the training yard or do you see a road?” You pant out while pushing to find the exit door of the base.

It's here and now, that you now actively recognize the roll and clap of thunder as if it's taunting you to hurry up and find Price before it does.

But it seems it already has.

Each door, person, and corner you pass feels like a deliberate obstacle, frustrating you as you try to get outside faster.

“I- I see a road and the-” He’s interrupted by a bright flash, a strong shake of thunder following right after, and you hear him grunt in aggravation at the sound he lacks control over. With a call of your name, he makes a quiet plea. “Please, I need you here. Now.” He manages to ground out with a sharp breath, causing you to almost second guess yourself at what he said. 

You bank a hard left, towards the East entrance, finding the door to take you outside towards the main road that leads to the base's entrance. Shouldering the large door, you grit your teeth while taking the metal harshly against yourself, but almost come to a halt when you feel the pouring rain pelt on your body.

Meet me in the pouring rain

“Please.” His voice shakes again through the phone, and the rasp from his panting re-escalates the adrenaline through your body.

It breaks your heart to hear him sound like this as if he’s succumbing to his demons. “John, I’m gonna find you but you need to help me, ok?” You ask as your legs begin to burn from the force that you run through the damp earth with. “-you see the flag pole? ” You bark out while another flash of lightning crosses the sky, closing your eyes as you wince. “Hey- listen to me, focus on me.” You command, praying that he isn’t locked inside his memories.

After a moment, “Y- Yes, I see it. The- the rains comin’ down hard- won't fucking stop.”

The shake in his voice is back; he’s shivering and his irritability is beginning to build up faster as it makes itself evident the longer he stays held within the turmoil of his nervous system.

Running and finally entering the main yard after having had to cut through the detached buildings to make it to the front, you place your free hand over your eyes to try and gain some semblance of visibility while the flashes of lightning aid for a moment.

“Meet me there. It’ll be just you and me, only us.” You pleaded with a hint of firmness, needing to direct him as you move with haste towards the lit flagpole, the light being a beacon through the pelting rain.

While running in the dark and wet ground, you lose footing and slide your foot into loose gravel; your right elbow is now scraped while you clatter to the ground with a “Fuck-” Your voice breaks through the night air, as your yelp of pain staccatos out in the silence between the flash of light and complimenting rumble of thunder. 

In a moment before you can stand up, you hear your name being yelled out, whipping your head up in response. The raw tenacity of his voice through the thrumming of rainfall hits when there is no other force of the storm that can distract either of you.

Your gazes find each other; he looks frozen for a moment, then immediately runs to you.

“John-“ falls past your lips in a cry when you spot him. His fatigues stick to his body, his hair wet and bucket hat long gone. Making his way hurriedly, his body slows with unexpected grace as he helps you to your feet. Almost as if in a hurried frenzy, you latch onto him by his arms, blinking through the falling rain as you look up and search his face. 

The expression he wears, as he makes sure you’re alright, contradicts the voice he had just seconds earlier; his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he checks over you, quickly placing his large hands on your ribs to stand you upright as if you are a toddler who has just taken a tumble.

“Bloody- You alrigh’ sweetheart?” He asks as the warmth of his panting breath fans across your face while pulling you up against him.

“I’m ok, I just slipped from the rain. Thank you.” You speak while still holding him tight, latching onto him. Your heart aches at seeing him care for you no matter where his mind places him, always putting others before himself.

John nods, letting out a small sigh. The feeling of your warmth against his chest brings him back down as he looks over you, trying to blink the anxiety and rain from his eyes. The feeling of his hands, cold and now gentle, glides up to move the wet hair from your eyes. It surprises you for a moment as he stays completely silent besides the tremoring breaths he takes.

At the silence, you let a small huff of laughter escape before closing your eyes and giving a smile in relief at having him in your sight and arms, before fluttering your eyes open to gaze up at him. 

You return the gesture when you move your hand to wipe his hair off of his forehead, the rain having matted it down to his skin. “With me as I’m with you. Always with you, John.” The lull of your voice surprises both of you as it can be heard perfectly in the rain, with no sign of thunder or lightning interrupting your words. 

John cups the base of your skull, looking at the raindrops that fall in small splashes and trails along your face. His eyes dilate when focused on you, the sight of him this close and his icy blue eyes keep steadfast on you, leaving a haunting mark on your memory and heart.

He moves his head down to meet yours; pausing for a moment as if he isn't sure this is real- he isn’t sure that this isn’t a dream and his mind is granting him a wish. Is this a true trick of his mind? This can't be a memory, surely-

He looks as if he’s in pain, so you take the last leap of faith for him.

The new and added warmth of his lips on yours is tender. It contrasts the rough environment of where you stand, the life you both live and the constant battles faced within. Your arms and his alike move to wrap around each other in a harsh and tight embrace.

As the raindrops fall all over both your faces, you feel as if you’re in a movie and the climax has just hit when the lovers are united.

You both are soaking wet, but neither of you seems to mind. He pulls you back into him, deepening the kiss with a determined and desperate force.

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain.

[dizzyjelly]

Our Little Secret

Part 2 here!

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you go to your best friend Lilas house to hang out and sleepover, you're greeted by her hot older sister Abby. Later that night you and Lila get into an argument which leads to you spending the night with Abby instead.

Cw: female reader, suggestive kissing, eventual smut in future part(s)

The digital clock on your middle console read 2:32 as you pulled into your best friend, Lila's driveway. You put your car into park and pulled the keys from the ignition, grabbing your tote bag from the passenger seat and walking over to the garage. As usual, you punched in the code, 4727#, then waited as the garage door lifted open.

You'd been a little uncomfortable when she first suggested you just walk into her home like this, but after being friends for so long it just felt right. You made your way inside, setting your bag on the kitchen table. You were a little confused as you didn't find Lila downstairs, it was Saturday so she'd usually be lounging in the living room right now.

"Lila?" You called out as you walked upstairs, figuring she might be in her room.

Just as you got to the top and stood in the hall, the bathroom door opened. You felt your cheeks grow red hot when her older sister stepped out, wet hair dripping onto her collarbones. Her muscular body covered in nothing but a green bath towel that left little to the imagination. Immediately you were stuttering over your words.

"Oh, A-Abby. Um- sorry I was just looking f-for Lila." Your eyes met the floor in embarrassment.

"That's ok, she's not here right now though." Abby leaned her body against the doorframe, one of her hands holding her towel in place.

"Oh, I mean I can go home then." You pointed downstairs with your thumb as you met her gaze.

"Nah, stay. She'll be back soon, let me get dressed and I can come keep you company downstairs." Her shoulder brushed your own as she made her way to her room, closing the door behind her.

You made your way downstairs, and tried your hardest to ignore the God awful feeling of butterflies in your stomach. It was no secret that Abby was dangerously attractive. But she was your best friends older sister, which basically made her off limits. Your endless thoughts were interrupted as Abby came down the stairs, dressed comfortably in grey sweats and her favorite hoodie. And her hair of course was pulled back into its usual tight braid.

It made you think, just a little bit ago upstairs was the first you'd seen her with her hair down. Given it was drenched and dripping, but still. She looked good, but the familiarity of the braid was nice as well. You sat on the couch and smiled at her as she came to join you.

The two of you didn't really talk much, instead Abby just reached for the TV remote and put on a movie. You sat in silence while it played, and did your best to keep your attention on the screen. You had your feet tucked comfortably under yourself on the couch, your hands in your lap.

Abby however, couldn't keep her eyes off you. Surprising to say the least, I mean you were just her little sisters annoying friend. Why would she take any interest in you? The again, how could she not when you looked like that.

It wasn't long before Lila was walking through the front door, a hearty laugh falling past her lips at the sight of you and Abby.

"Well, this is a surprise!" She exclaimed, a couple of plastic bags in her hands.

"Oh shut up little sis, your friend here came looking for ya." Abby scoffed as she stood, making her way back to the stairs.

"Ok, whatever." Lila responded with her usual attitude towards Abby.

You giggled at their interaction, smiling as you made your way over to Lila. She handed you a bag then motioned for you to follow her up to her room. Then she showed you what she was busy out getting, which just happened to be some shorts and a new bikini. You complimented and hyped her up with each new thing she tried on, clapping and everything.

"Hey, you wanna stay the night? I think my parents want to go to dinner but I'm sure you could come with." Lila asked with a smile.

"Sure! Just let me call my mom!" You smiled back.

While you went into the bathroom to call your mom, Abby had entered Lilas room at some point. You had a quick, nice conversation with your mother. She said she didn't mind if you stayed and told you if you needed anything come get it before ten o'clock. Which you agreed to before hanging up.

"Hey, my mom said it's cool if I stay." You spoke happily, stifling a chuckle as you watched Lila roll her eyes at Abby.

"Yeah? Cool!" Lila smiled at you.

"I'm going to my room." Abby announced, glancing at you for a moment before leaving.

That was kinda weird.

"What was all that about?" You asked awkwardly as you sat next to Lila on her bed.

"Oh, she's just got a stick up her butt about me asking our parents the day before someone stays over. She's so weird about it though." Lila answered, shrugging like it was no big deal.

You felt a little bad, not wanting to have upset Abby. But everything seemed to be fine later when it was time to go to dinner. You, Abby, and Lila all got into the backseat while their parents sat up front of course. You'd offered to sit in the middle because you were shortest.

It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but for some reason the feeling of Abbys toned thigh pressed against your own had a warm fuzziness brewing in your stomach. You did your best to ignore it as you gripped your knee with your hand for the duration of the car ride.

You guys got to the restaurant and Lila's parents led the way, you'd all been sat in a corner booth and once again you were in the middle of Lila and Abby. It wasn't as uncomfortable this time though since there was more space. You were very polite, all smiles and thank yous as it was as rather nice place. The waiter came by and asked you all what you wanted to drink, you got your favorite soda. You continued browsing the menu and decided what you wanted after a few minutes.

"So, Y/n, how have you been? Are you thinking about college?" Lila's mother asked you, you and Lila graduated high school just a few months ago.

"Um, yeah I've actually applied to a couple places! I'm doing well." You answered with a smile.

"Well, that's just lovely." Her mom responded.

Your server returned and everyone ordered, then Abby collected the menus and handed them to the guy. More small talk was made as you waited to be served. The food was good and dinner was nice, and before you knew it the bill was being brought by.

"Um, I'm sorry to be so unprofessional but you are really pretty. Could I maybe get your number?" Your eyes widened as you realized the waiter had been talking to you.

"Oh! Um, I don't really-" you were ready to reject him, but Abby interrupted you.

"She's not interested." She spoke roughly.

Your brows furrowed at this, why had she been do quick to tell this guy no? Her parents paid the bill and you were all making your way to the car in no time. On the drive home all you could do was wonder about Abbys interaction with your waiter tonight.

It was hard not to br hopeful. To think maybe she liked you too, but even if she did, she was your best friends sister. That basically made her off-limits, and you knew this. You did your best to take your mind off of it for the duration of the drive.

You arrived back at Lilas house and she brought you upstairs to her room, insisting you watched a scary movie tonight. You agreed then asked if you could shower, and Lila said yes of course. While you did that she went downstairs and looked for a movie. Lila rolled her eyes as Abby walked into the living room and sat down.

"Abby, no. I dont want you bothering us." She whines.

"I'm not bothering anyone." Abby answered, crossing her arms and getting comfortable.

You went downstairs and noticed their small argument. Then, Abby called out your name and you felt like you couldn't breathe for a second.

"Am I bothering you?" She asked, trying to prove a point.

"Uh- n-not really no." You answered as you sat beside Lila, who was now furious.

"Are you fucking kidding? What the hell Y/n!" She yelled at you.

"Lila, calm down." You tried to reason.

"I'm your best friend. You should agree with me!" She argued.

You hated getting into fights with Lila.

"That's not fair!" You began to raise your voice.

"Is too! God this is just like that whole thing with Stacy last year." She scoffed, getting ready yo storm up to her room.

Abby noticed the tears forming in your eyes, so she intervened.

"Lila, wait. Come on, you can't seriously be mad about this." She said as she grabbed at her sisters arm.

Lila threw her hand off of her and groaned frustratedly.

"You're defending her now? Wow. Just wow. You know what Y/n? Since you like her so much, you can just hang out with my dumb sister tonight then!" She yelled, now stomping upstairs then slamming her bedroom door shut.

You let out a small sigh, your hands coming to cover your face as tears spilled. This was a new kind of embarrassment. Abby didn't really know what to say or do, so she just kind of sat next to you and waited for you to do something. She thought you'd ask her to take you home.

"Whatever, she's being an asshole. You still wanna watch the movie?" You asked, having stopped crying and now reaching for the remote.

"Yeah, yeah." Abby nodded and smiled to herself as she leaned back on the couch.

As the movie plays, Abby can't help but take notice of you. How you kept flinching and taking a moment to catch your breath. You were scared. She couldn't help it anymore when she started to speak.

"You scared?" She asked in a whisper, watching you.

"Yeah.." You admitted embarrassed, meeting her gaze.

"Do you want me to hold you?" She asked in a whisper yet again, but began to panic as she noticed your eyes widen a bit, "or not if you think that's weird sorry I just-" you stopped her rambling.

"Yes. I'd like that." You answered.

Tou scooted closer to her, your head resting on her shoulder and a hand on her thigh. And it just felt so natural as she wrapped her arms around you. You sighed, relaxing underneath her soothing touch. And your hopes were definitely up now. I mean she offered to hold you because you were scared, it had to mean something.

The two of you continued the rest of the mllvie in silence, Abby feeling soothed by the rise and fall of your breathing. Once it ended you got off of Abby, immediately missing her touch. And she missed the feeling of your weight on her. She stood and started walking toward the stairs, but looked back at you in confusion as you didn't follow her.

"You coming to bed?" Abby asked.

"Oh, yeah." You answered, following her

You figured she would want you to just sleep on the couch down here, but she did just invite you to her room. It was nice, and everything about it said Abby. The Polaroids of her and her friends above her bed, a few of her family as well. Posters and whatnot.

She got into bed and lifted the covers for you to get in as well. You climbed in beside her and looked at her back as you got comfortable. You had no idea if she was asleep yet or not, but you couldn't get yourself to relax. Finally you thought fuck it. You brought a hand to tap at her shoulder and she turned around to face you.

"I can't sleep." You whispered.

"Come here." She whispered back, already moving to pull you closer to her.

You snuggled into her chest, hugging her and letting out a small sigh as she brought her own arms around you. After a minute she started to softly caress your back, and you didn't mean to but a small moan fell past your lips at the sensation. She turned a deep red at this, but you didn't notice. Another minute goed by and you lift your head so your face to face with her.

She looks at you, and you look back at her. Your eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back again, repeating this for what feels like forever until you finally kiss her. She moans into it at the feeling of your tongue sliding in against her own. You threw your head back with a sigh as she began to kiss along your jaw and neck.

"Mm, Abby. Fuck, Abby I can't." You whined, and she stopped coming to face you.

"What? What do you mean? Do you not like me?" She asks confused.

"No, of course I like you. But Lila's already mad at me and- look she'd kill me. I'm sorry." You really did feel bad.

"She doesn't have to know baby. It can be our little secret." Abby suggested, continuing to kiss at your neck.

And you couldn't even bring yourself to protest because she was making you feel so good right now, instead you just let it happen.