#toothy lamb

[qhazomb]

i wonder how all the folks who drew cute sheep-cat hybrid fankids of the lamb and narinder feel about the fact that, canonically, any kid narinder would have would be a hideous fleshbeast

[blindmagdalena]

Customer Service

1.2k, f!reader x homelander. a cathartic and indulgent little gift fic for @irenadel! You work in customer service, and unfortunately, one customer has decided you're the perfect outlet for his consumer rage. What this customer doesn't realize is that that none other than Homelander himself is waiting right outside for you, and he doesn't like what he's hearing.

Another day, another one of these assholes. “Sir, if you’ll listen, I–” You try to reason, but to no avail. You’re interrupted again. “No, no, no! I’ve had enough, your policy is ridiculous!” The man snaps, waving his rolled up form in your face like a newspaper at a misbehaving dog. It’s not even your policy. You just work here, and yet you’re the one forced to take all the abuse. This man has been yelling at you for the better half of ten minutes, but everyone around you is so desensitized, not even the glassiness in your eyes seems to matter. It’s just customer service. It’s normal. “You’re the one who needs to listen! I’ve told you what I want, and your job is to do it, alright? I’m the customer, so unless you’re too fucking stupid to–”

“Whoa, whoahhhhohoh there, champ,” a familiar voice cuts in, followed by a flash of crimson as a gloved hand falls on the man’s shoulder, cutting him short. The man whirls, prepared to maintain his fury, but the words evaporate from his tongue the instant he sees who has intervened. “H-Homelander?” The man stutters, bewildered. Uh oh, you think, but it takes everything in you to not smile. He did say he was going to pick you up today. Your eyes flicker to the clock, and you realize your shift ended five minutes ago. The store is closed, leaving just the three of you and a handful of your coworkers, who evidently would prefer to hide in the back than help you deal with an angry customer. “The one and only,” Homelander confirms, smiling jovially, though you alone recognize the undercurrent to his expression. You see the snarl in his toothy grin. Meanwhile, the man smiles with a dumbstruck kind of awe, a lamb wholly fooled by Homelander’s sheepskin. “What in the world is all this yelling about?”

“Oh, I– uhm,” the man fumbles, gesturing vaguely with his tightly rolled form. The redness from his anger is beginning to drain from his face, and with it he’s beginning to look smaller and smaller, as if he’s just drunk a particularly potent shrinking potion. Homelander often has that effect on people. He makes them seem so… insignificant. You feel your own eyes beginning to dry already. “Just, uh, these policies, you know? They’re so against the consumer, right? And it’s just–it’s ridiculous, you know? Like I pay her fuckin’ salary and she can’t even–” The man begins to point that sinister roll of paper towards you, but Homelander catches him swiftly by the wrist, gripping hard enough that the man drops it with a startled little gasp. “Don’t do that,” Homelander says, voice sharp as the crack of a whip, maintaining that chipper smile. “Y’see, real men don’t yell at pretty little ladies, much less go around waving sticks at them,” he says, the words sounding venomous even in the bright commercial timbre of his voice. “It’s all about having self control. Have you ever been at the mercy of someone stronger than you? Someone who, I don’t know… lost that control?” He asks, tone growing colder with every word. You can hear the threat in his question loud and clear, but you don’t intervene. You find yourself watching with a kind of distant fascination, like you’re watching these events unfold from somewhere outside yourself. No one has ever stepped up for you like this. “I–I–I didn’t–I wasn’t– y-you’re right, I–I lost my cool,” the man sputters, beginning to lean away, attempting to twist slowly out of Homelander’s iron grip. “Listen, I’m just gonna–” “Apologize,” Homelander interjects. His smile never budges, but you think the man is starting to understand just how unfriendly the gesture really is. There’s sweat prickling all along his forehead, rolling down his temple, passing his wide, frightened eyes. “Go on. Tell her you’re sorry.”

Looking back at you, you’re amazed that anyone this pitiful ever had the power to make you cry. “I’m sorry,” he blubbers, looking at you now like you’re his only salvation, his wrist still upheld firmly in Homelander’s gloved hand. “I’m sorry for yelling, and calling you stu–” the man attempts to finish, but the unmistakable crack of his wrist snapping in Homelander’s grasp robs him of anything other than a cry of pain. Immediately, Homelander releases him, and starts to laugh, his first genuine smile emerging as the man screams. “Ohh, golly! Jeeze, that was just so clumsy of me. Oof, that’s a nasty pinch, huh? I’d go get that checked out if I were you,” he says, patting the man so firmly on the chest that he stumbles backwards, clutching his wrist with wide, watery eyes. He looks pathetic, red and weepy, shocked by the turn of events. “You broke my wrist! You broke my fucking wrist! Why would you do that!?” The man asks, voice climbing quickly into hysteria as he stumbles away from Homelander, towards the door. “Well,” Homelander sighs, lifting his hands in a helpless kind of gesture. “I dunno, I guess I just… ‘lost my cool,’ ” he says, making quotation marks around the words with his fingers, watching the man fumble his way out the door. Meanwhile, you stand behind Homelander in a mix of awe and a devious kind of delight mingling in your expression. There was a time you might have felt guilt, or horror. Not anymore. “That was… really bad,” you whisper, hands over your mouth, concealing your smile. Homelander turns around to face you, his arms clasped behind his back. His eyes soften when they land on you, and his smile looks a great deal more boyish than it does that of a wolf. “Mmm, but it felt good, didn’t it?” He asks, leaning in close. He bumps his nose against yours in a quick little nuzzle. “No one talks to my girl like that,” he tells you, bringing his hands up to cup your face. His words sound like a promise. The juxtaposition between this man, who cradles you in tender hands, as though you’re made of glass, and the one who just snapped someone’s wrist on a whim, is a dizzying one, but you’ve grown to really love it. You’ve never been so certain of someone’s love for you.

You get butterflies when he kisses you. Slinging your arms around his neck, you hang off of him just to enjoy the way he makes you feel weightless when he straightens up, bringing you nearly off your feet. “C’mon,” he purrs against your lips, lifting you up properly into his arms. “That moron made us late for our date.” “Okay,” you say softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You inhale deep the minty evergreen scent of him, brushing your fingers along the closely shorn hair of his undercut, savoring the feel of it against your fingers. Everything about him brings you a peace that you didn’t know another person could, filling your senses with warmth, with the thrill of his devotion. You rest your cheek on his shoulder as he carries you out of the building, holding on tight for what you know is to come. Homelander launches straight up into the sky with you, above and beyond all of the problems that felt so big a few moments ago, but now feel so very, very small.

[fanaticsnail]

Daughter of the Sea: Chapter 4

Masterlist Here, Header Masterlist Here

Word Count: 6,500+

Synopsis: After tucking your niece into bed after dinner, the two of you finally give in to your lengthy longing and spend the night in the arms of one another. A revelation once morning arrives has the blissful world you have created with one another come crashing down around you. (Smut in this chapter, MDNI, 18+).

Themes: Unrequited requited love, slow burn, long fic, long distance relationship, friends to lovers, found family dynamics, love over time, (smut, mdni 18+, NSFW - chapters will be marked accordingly), love-making, angst, hurt, gendered terms used, swearing, adult language. 

Notes: Benn Beckman x f!reader, platonic!Mihawk x f!reader, platonic!Shanks x f!reader, slight mention of MiShanks ship, Beginning: Shanks is 19, Mihawk is 23, Beckman is 30, f!reader is 22, Uta is 2 months old for the sake of the plot (canonically she's 2 years old). The f!reader is suggested to be native to Kuraigana with her mannerisms and language.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @indydonuts

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Sifting through Uta's clothes and organizing her room was done hastily; placing her new clothes on hangers and setting up her small vanity. She hummed a tune, enjoying her reflection in the mirror as you worked away at neatening her treasures. 

After some time, you turned to see her twirling in place with her new skirts frilling around her in a perfect circle. You were glad her childhood has been happy, especially considering the hardships of your own. Truly glad to spoil her in all the ways you had never been, you stood tall and beckoned her over with a soft wave of your hands. 

“Ready for dinner, gorgeous girl?” You asked her, her hand reaching out to collect yours within, “Want to go somewhere that's just us, or do you want to see your crew for a meal?” You placed the velveteen, well-loved hawk plush on her pillow and fixed up her bedsheets. 

“Can we go back to the bar place?” she smiled at you, looking down at her bed before placing her hand in yours, “And maybe have a table for just me and you?” 

“Of course, sweety,” you reassure her, “Just me and you.”

As you made your way off the Red-Force, you noticed Benn Beckman standing on the deck of the bar, leaning over the side rails and looking to the ocean where you arrived from. He looked at peace, his signature frown missing from his face and a cigarette tucked between his index and middle finger. Dressed in a fine dark button-up shirt, his hair combed back, and his face clean shaven, Beckman had never looked so refined before. 

Beside him was Lucky Roux, gnawing at a whole leg of lamb while joking with him. Roux’s wide, toothy grin grew when Uta suddenly tugged at your hand to pull you inside the bar. 

“Roux,” you nodded your greeting, Uta tugged you in firmer, “Beckman.” Your eyes met, his silvery orbs mesmerized with the immediate contact. His lips parted, his mouth moving as if to speak, only to immediately shut as Uta thrust you within the doors of the bar. 

Both of you were dressed in fine clothes, Uta's new skirts sparkling as she moved towards Shanks and Limejuice who sat alone and laughing together. As she began to demonstrate her new fine-wear to the men, you walked over to the bar and began perusing the menu. 

“Need help deciding what to get, love?” a woman's voice prompted you to look up. Her hair was a vibrant green, tucked away from her face by a triangular bandana, “I'm Makino, owner of the bar.” Giving her your name in response, you nodded your greeting to her. 

“I’ll take two glasses of water for now, please,” you asked, turning over the menu in your hands to gauge an appropriate meal for your niece, “Uta will likely have some chicken, mashed potatoes and I would love to see her eat some type of green vegetable.”

“We’ve got peas or string beans, do you have a preference?” she readied two glasses with ice and began filling them with water. 

“I think the beans would be appropriate,” you shrugged, placing down the menu and sliding it over to her. She exchanged the waters for your Berry, handing them down with an inquisitive smile. You cock your head to the side to read her expression more clearly, your evidence collection being halted when she disclosed her curiosity. 

“We don't normally see women dressed in all that finery here. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life,” she admitted to you, prompting you to laugh a little in response. A soft rouge drew up her cheeks, mentally slapping herself. 

“Thank you for your compliment, Makino. I truly appreciate it,” you teetered off your laughter, reaching forward to give her hand a soft squeeze, “I'm from Kuraigana. This is the similar style worn by our locals there.” 

“Kuraigana? Is that on the Grand Line?” she asked, her curiosity growing as she readied Uta's meal for her. You nodded emphatically, beginning to talk about the land you had been living in under the rule of Dracule Mihawk. 

As you both dove deeper into conversation, Benn Beckman and Lucky Roux reentered the bar. The first-mate was in a trance, his gaze locked onto you as your actions moved slower in his mind than what occurred in reality. 

The soft bounce of your hair when you laughed, the passion in your eyes as you spoke to Makino, and your grand smile. The smile that haunted him from the moment he first saw you. His heart soared ever higher when Uta joined you at your side, you immediately stooping to aid her up onto the barstool to consume her meal. 

He was so desperately in love with you. 

Now that he knew you used both his name and love in the same sentence, he needed to make his move. Although he wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and begin wooing you l like his other conquests, he physically couldn't do it. His northern star pointed him to you, calling him home to rest in your arms, but he was still unsure of where to start. He wanted to make you feel special, set aside from the rest, and most importantly: loved. 

As Uta finished her meals, dipping her green beans into her mashed potato and using it as a spoon, you continued sipping at your water and praising her for eating her meal. Giving you a wide, toothy grin, Uta jumps up into your lap and starts eagerly discussing her plans for her future. Her dreams of being a singer, her travels to Kuraigana to see you and her Uncle Hawk, and how she wants to have her captain achieve his goals. 

Just at the mention of his name, Shanks hovered over the bar, ordering another drink beside you. He pauses, leaning forward and giving you a soft peck on your cheek before leaning down to press his lips on the crown of Uta’s head. 

“Thank you for coming to see us while we were docked here,” Shanks whispered to you, collecting his drink from the bar, “Means a lot to all of us here, especially Uta.” He smiled down at his adoptive daughter, extending his arm out to her, “It’s time for you to get to bed, little miss. Want Yassop to take you?” 

“I think we both know who Uta wants to take her,” a burly voice rumbled from ahead. Beckman stepped into the bar, his lopsided smile looking first down at Uta before raking his eyes up to meet yours. You return his smile briefly before looking down at your niece.

“Shall I tuck you in, gorgeous girl?” you offered, her overenthusiastic smile immediately rising up her face. She all but sprung out of your lap, gathering your hand and dragging you onto your feet. Before you took a step towards the door, Uta’s unoccupied hand reached up and gathered Beckmans within her own. 

You both briefly made eye contact once more before she dragged you towards her lodgings for the night. She was happily chirping away to Beckman, recounting all of her day with you and her in town. He would ask the occasional question, humming in interest when it was called for, all the both of you would steal looks from one another like coy, lovesick teenagers.

You both readyed Uta in her pajamas, tucking her into her bedsheets and reading her a fairytale from one of her new books. After all the bedtime routine took its course, you gave Uta one final squeeze goodnight and kissed the apple of her cheek. 

“Goodnight, gorgeous girl,” you whispered to her, “I'll see you in the morning. We could have breakfast together, if you like.”

“Pretty A-...,” she yawned, stretching her arms above her head and nestling into her sheets, “...-Aunty, I would like that. Pancakes?”

“We can do pancakes,” Beckman nodded, smoothing over her sheets and drawing up her quilted blanket to keep her warm, “I'll get up early and make the batter for you, okay?” 

“You're the best, Uncle Beckman,” she uttered snoozily, her eyes drooping as she flopped further into her bed, “Both my favorites together.”

Quietly exiting the room, you clicked her bedroom door closed before looking around the shared communal lounge. You clicked your tongue at the miscellaneous items askew in the room, immediately setting to work and tidying up after the Red-Hair crew. 

“Leave it, Darlin’,” Beckman urged you, collecting a cigarette from his pocket alongside his lighter, “The boys’ll get to it.” You huffed a gentle laugh, continuing to collect empty drinking containers, clothing items and dirty bowls and mugs. Placing the clothes in baskets, the food utensils and containers on the bench top, and turned to face him. 

“Leave me be, Becks,” you shook your head with a soft smile, “Don't keep your date waiting, and let me put myself to use while I'm here.” You continued fussing in the room, leaving Beckman perplexed while mulling over your comment. 

“She is very pretty,” you continued, sighing as you began to fill the basin of the sink with warm, soapy water, “You always did know how to pick the best ones.” Beckman coughed out a soft laugh, choking on his thoughts. 

Spinning on your toes to gaze up at him, you waved him off with a gentle “shoo.” Beckman's mind was racing, watching you hastily turn off the tap to the basin and gather the dishes into a neatly stacked pile. Immediately drawn back to you ushering him away to rest after being so long at sea, cradling the infant Uta in your arms, supplying the Red-Force with all the ship needed to embark on the adventure: his mind zeroed in on that single moment. 

As you hummed while starting to wash the drinking glasses first, he was immediately overwhelmed by those first emotions from so long ago. He neither had the constitution, nor the energy, to make his move back then: his body too sleep deprived and seaworn to truly depict his adoration for you. 

He was under no such plight now. 

Just when you placed the last of the drinking cups to dry on the rack beside the sink, two strong arms wrapped around your stomach while a face buried itself in the crease of your shoulder. You froze in shock, eyes wide and unblinking. Lips found your neck, sweet kisses pressed into your skin and leading down into your shoulder. 

“Beckman, what are you doing?” Your breathy voice gave you away to him, truly reveling in the attention, “You're all dressed up, and your date is waiting for you-.”

“-I got dressed up for you, Darlin’,” he groaned, his lips trailing back up from your shoulder to your neck, “Only for you.” You quickly dried your hands, turning in his arms and pushing him gently on his shoulders. 

“And the woman at the bar?” you asked him, brows raised and eyes darting between his half-lidded orbs. He could barely focus on forming a sentence, his mind wanting nothing but to give into what his body was craving. 

“Just a kiss, nothin’ more, I swear to you,” he confessed hurriedly. His hands began to tremble as they held you firmly, your attention momentarily drawn to them before turning back to face him. 

“You deserve so much more than a simple kiss, Benn Beckman,” you gazed up into his eyes, both of you mirroring the same unspoken emotions you had for one another.

“I don't want to have anything more with anyone else,” he whispered, his body moving forward, his torso brushing against your chest, “I just want you,” his voice caught in his throat as he confessed, “Only ever you.”

The love between you was physically tangible, desire rolling from you both in waves. Before managing to speak a single word of confession, you both became overwhelmed by the sensation of finally holding each other in your arms. 

Lips crashed almost violently, Beckman pinning you against the kitchen counter by his hips while your hands caught his lengthy hair in fistfuls. He pawed at your legs, hoisting you up and sitting you firmly on the counter while your lips began to attack his cheek, chin and jaw with your lips. 

Turning his head, he reclaimed your lips beneath his, his hips slotting between your legs and growled into your lips as you untied his hair from within the elastic. His hair fell like curtains over his shoulders, your hands gathering up the strands and holding his head hostage to your passionate and bruising kisses. 

Sliding his hands over your thighs, he hurriedly snaked his arms over your hips and drew you in closer. Pelvises brushing, you whined into his lips when you felt the outline of his stiff cock grinding against your clothed core. As you parted your lips and shifted your chin, Beckman darted his tongue out to stroke yours and deepen the desperate oscillation. 

“Becks,” you sighed, hands perching on his shoulders as he trailed his lips along the outside of your mouth, “Becks, stop.” He immediately broke away, eyes wide and panicking. 

“I'm sorry, Darlin’,” he gasped, your hands leaving his hair and his hands leaving your body, “Did I misread something? Did you not want this-?”

“-Uta is sleeping in the other room, sweetheart,” you whispered, a love-struck smile rising to your lips as you caressed his cheek, “And Yassop was going to come and take over supervision any second,” you tucked a stray piece of fallen hair behind his ear, “I don't particularly want us to be caught, pants down and ass out by the crew.”

Beckman’s rumbled laughter was contagious, your own joining his as he stooped lower and pressed his lips against your cheek. His lips traveled again to your mouth and hummed as his warm and slow kisses pressed against yours. Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes and softened his expression: eyes half-lidded, lips parted and a small smile painted over his mouth. 

“I am truly,” he kissed you with a soft peck, “deeply,” followed by another chaste kiss, “desperately,” he held his lips firmly against yours, deepening it briefly before pulling away, “In love with you.”

His confession caused your heart to beat violently against your chest, eyes swelling at the truth he disclosed to you. You collected his cheeks within your palms, rubbing a soft circle over his lips with your right thumb.

“I loved you from the moment you placed Uta in my arms,” you admitted, your voice wavering a little as you truly came to terms with your emotions, “And I have loved you every day since.” He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I win,” his nose circled your own, scrunching briefly in playful teasing, “I loved you the moment I first saw you. Just before you and Mihawk got into that large brawl, from memory.” 

As the tension swelled once more between you, you shook off the feeling as soon as you heard heavy boots outside the door. Beckman broke away from you, turning away and readying his cigarette and lighter as you approached the sink. Surely and steadily as you washed the dishes, the door to the lodgings swung open to reveal Yasopp. 

His pistol lay at his side, strutting on through with a soft nod to you before sharing a pointed look with Beckman. 

“She sleepin’?” Yassop asked, brow raised high. Your back was turned, concentrating fully on the task of washing the dishes. 

“Aye, she is,” Beckman confirmed as he lit his cigarette, inhaling a deep lungful of smoke, “You eaten?”

“Makino made some lamb stew,” Yassop confessed, wandering around to the kitchen, leaning against the countertop Beckman had pinned you against moments prior, “Had to fight Roux for the last bowl.”

“Ah, that settles my next question,” Beckman uttered, his hand raising to the crown of his head and raking through his fallen locks with his fingers, “No chance of gettin’ some leftovers for us, Darlin'.”

You huffed a soft laugh, looking at him over your shoulder and smiling mischievously. 

“I have some supplies back on my ship from town,” you admitted with a shrug, “I could cook you something, if you like.”

Beckman closed his eyes, cocking his head to the side and attempting to bite back his growing smile by clamping his lips tightly around his cigarette. Yassop shot Beckman a knowing smirk, walking away from the benchtop and approaching the sink. 

“Let me handle that, Hon,” he picked up a dish and nudged you away with his hips, “Go get some food sorted for you and the big guy.” Your heart began to race, turning to glance up at Beckman through your eyelashes. 

“Thank you, Yassop,” you praised him, fully unable to tear your eyes away from Beckman's as his eyes darkened. 

The walk back to your ship passed in almost a blink. As soon as your foot stepped atop your boat, your fine dress was immediately hoisted over your head to leave you in your lingerie. Beckman's shirt was hastily unbuttoned and shrugged away from his shoulders. All while undressing one another, your lips never left seeking out new bare flesh to press themselves against. 

Finally in the crew quarters of your personal ship, your legs wrapped themselves around Beckmans hips as he wove his left hand around your shoulders, and right hand snaked around your hips to hold you firmly in place. His lips we're eagerly consuming your lips, jaw, neck and down your chest as he lined his swollen cock up with your glistening slit. 

Before he prodded you with his knob, he hesitated, snapping his face up to meet with yours. You looked up at him, eyes blown with lust and lashes half-lidded. Hand caressing his cheek, he turned his chin to collect your palm beneath his lips. 

“Everything okay?” you asked him in a airy whisper. 

“I just-...” he darted his eyes between yours, looking down to your lips before floating back up, “...I want you to know this isn't just a notch for me,” he confessed, prodding you open with his knob, “I’ve wanted this for so long, and I want you to know how much I love you”

You smiled, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his knob slowly stretching you open with shallow thrusts. Reopening them, your eyes met: Beckman's expressive silver globes pooling with love and adoration for you. 

“If you're asking me if I love you too, please know that I do,” you whimper as he sheathed more of himself into you, your walls molding to the shape of his cock with each slow thrust, “Oh, Becks. I love you,” you moaned, arching your back as his cock sheathed itself deeply inside you. 

“F-Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, his forehead falling into the crease of your shoulder and neck. He began thrusting slowly, keeping the majority of his cock buried down to the hilt. His pelvis brushed against your clit, each intentional motion his hips made had his mushroomed tip curve to hit your g-spot. 

You anchored your hands on his shoulders, hastily circling his shoulders to hold him closer. Your feet joined at the ankles, digging your heels into his back to prompt him to keep going. He picked up the pace, deep thrusts brushing your g-spot before pushing deeper to reach further depths within you. 

“Fuck, Becks,” you moaned, arching your back and pressing your head against the pillow, “R-Remind me-... Nghmm-... Remind me again why we w-weren’t doing this f-for the past five years.”

“N-No fucking clue, Darlin’,” Beckman huffed, his hips rutting faster as he bullied your walls to take more of his brutal pace, “Coulda had you so many ways in that gloomy castle.” 

“How would you’ve had me?” your mind began to fog, your smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He turned his head to face you, his grin mirroring yours between panted breaths. 

“Woulda’ had you bent over that desk a few times,” he laughed, eyes rolling back as he felt your walls clench around his shaft. “Fuck,” he groaned your name, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Woulda’ had you sit at that fuckin’ desk chair, and wrap your gorgeous thighs around my face while you did your paperwork.” 

You mewled as he unwrapped his left arm from your shoulder to rake at your thigh, carefully supporting it against his hips as he continued snapping his pelvis against yours. 

“Pick a place in the grounds,” he groaned, his motions becoming staggered as he felt his release rapidly approach, “There's the maze,” he smirked, his gaze turning wicked and feral, “Woulda’ chased you through the damn thing in nothin’ but lingerie and some sensible running shoes.” You laughed, turning it into a short whine as he bullied his swollen tip against your g-spot. 

“Oh, fuck, Beckman. I-I’m right there,” you cried, feeling the coil begin to tighten in the pit of your abdomen. Your hands pawed at him, desperately attempting to find something to tether you to the world before it came crashing down around you. 

“I got you, I got you,” he chanted, his left hand leaving your thigh as he raised your hips with his right and began pistoning your body against his skin. His impossible strength heightened the pleasure he was snapping into you. Your body was flint, his hips the rock that sparked the fire to ignite your flame. 

He collected your hands from his shoulders, his index finger anchoring your two wrists together as his thumb and three fingers tugged them away from his shoulders and above your head. He pressed your knuckles against the plush pillow of your bed, using his body weight to pin you against the bed. 

“Becks,” you whined, “Becks, I'm close.”

“Me too, me too,” he nodded, his hips snapping with crude, wet slaps echoing within your bedroom. Mewls of your bliss and gruff groans of Beckman's own rapid approach harmonized together, your voices carrying chants of one another's names over the sea. 

As your eyes began to see the dancing lights behind them, your body buzzing with bliss, Beckman's voice barked over your hypnotism to break the trance. 

“Eyes on me, Darlin’,” he growled, “Wanna see you come undone. Wanna see it in your eyes.” You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you forced your eyes to stay open. He pummeled himself into you, your body beginning to shoot the buzzed sparks throughout your stomach to your toes. 

“Becks, I-I'm gonna-...” you anchored your legs firmly against his body as your orgasm began to hit you, “...Beckman-... Fuck-... Beckman, I'm cumming.” Your body erupted into pure, electrified bliss. Eyes never leaving his, Beckman could see your unravel as his own shot through him. 

“Fuck, Darlin’,” he barked, his hips staggering while his entire length was sheathed completely down to the hilt, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” Your walls wrung around his cock in rhythmic contractions, squeezing his shaft to the same rhythm he sheathed himself within you. 

You attempted to wriggle away from his grip, the overstimulation causing you to panic a little beneath him. Sensing the panic in your arms, he released your hands from above your head and drew them up to his hair. Wasting no time, you drew his face down to meet yours, your lips consuming his whole he chased his bliss within you. 

As your hands tangled in his hair, he rut himself deeply within you, his cock twitching and beginning to spill himself deeply within you. He was usually careful, wrapping himself in a barrier to hold back his spend. With you, he all but lost that thought the moment your lips met his for the first time back in the lodgings. 

“I’m g-gonna-,” he warned you, his hips staggering, “Where? Where do you-.” You wrapped your legs tightly around his hips, refusing to allow him space to pull away from you as you sucked a dark, purple oval against his neck. “F-Fuck, Darlin’. Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Please, let me have you,” you whined against his neck, biting at his flesh as you felt the rapid approach of his hard cock within you, “Please let me have all of you.” 

He chanted your name, the crude snaps of his hips staggered while fully sheathed within you. Ropes of his spend shot deep within you in short spurts. His face eagerly sought out yours, his lips collecting your mouth and groaning deeply within. 

His hips stilled, his cock twitching as he continued to slowly rock his hips against yours. He released a breathy whisper, something you weren't anticipating to follow. Caressing your cheek, he looked down at you while whispering in his best attempt at Kuraiganan 

“I love you.”

Your thoughts betrayed you, eyes beginning to pool with emotion at his heavily accented depiction of the language. His intentions were pure, prompting you to relay your own heart in your practiced tongue. 

“I love you too, Beckman,” you whispered, your hands smoothing over the fallen strands of his hair, “More than I could ever truly say, with any uttered tongue. I love you more than you could ever dream of.” He smiled, shaking his head while attempting to understand your words. 

“My Kuraiganan is lackluster,” he admitted with a short laugh, his body and yours still tingling with the aftershocks of the bliss, “But I think I got the sentiment.” He chuckled, pressing his lips against yours and passing his smile to you. Your own lips mirrored his, you both groaning as he pulled his cock out of you. 

He rolled beside you, cradling your shoulders against him as he continued to move his lips in slow and intentional kisses. 

For the first time since early childhood, your guard completely dropped. The walls fell away from guarding your heart from the pain of breaking, each rock of resolve gently pried away by Beckman's lips coaxing you to give in. He felt your body relax, his own following suit as he allowed his hardened heart to warm to the unspoken promises of tomorrow. 

You both felt exactly in the place you needed to be, that place being within the arms of a lover you valued as equal to you. 

Basking in the soft afterglow of your love for a few more moments, you slowly got up and placed Beckman's dark, button-up shirt over your body; drowning in the fabric. He laughed at you, sitting up as you went to your small bathroom to gently rinse yourself of your prior collection of joint release. 

Upon exiting the room, you brought a small dish and washcloth to the man sitting in your bed. You knelt beside him, gently placing the warmed water onto his body and cleansing him. 

“I really should be doing this for you, you know,” he smirked as you continued to drag the cloth over his abdomen and down to his shaft. 

“Why would I expect you to, especially after you were the one who topped me?” you laughed, your hands circling a ring around his cock and drawing out the final drops of his release into the washcloth. 

“You saying you could top me?” Beckman taunted you, nudging your thigh with his knee. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” you purred at him, leaning over his torso and tucking a loose strand of hair over his ear, “I was being nice letting you take the lead because you're special to me,” you brought your mischievous smirk over to him, cocking your head to the side and uttering your soft promise. “When you're ready again, I'll show you how good it can be.”

Your challenge did not end unseen, your night almost sleepless as your joint pleas, cries of bliss, and praises echoed well into the dark of the night. As your body finally gave in to the sweet call of slumber, that rest was found tucked within the strong arms of Benn Beckman. His slow and steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep, just as the gentle rise and fall of your chest had him blissfully achieve the best sleep he's had aboard a ship. 

As the sun began to rise, Beckman woke first. He felt you nuzzle into him as he began to shift, taking a moment to commit this picture to memory. His heart was with you, his love and adoration carried with every breath you took. As you stirred, he pressed his lips against your temple. 

“Mornin’, Darlin’,” his smooth drawl has you swooning as your eyes flutter open. 

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered, leaning up and pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. Marks of your night together showed itself in soft hues of purple, small indentations of teeth and scratches on your bodies. Gazing down at you, he clicked his tongue as a reprimand to himself about his rough treatment of you. 

“Shouldn't ‘a gripped you so hard,” he scolded, his index finger tracing down your body and bringing your attention to the perfect cast of his hand against your hips. 

“I probably should not have sunk my teeth into your shoulder like that, either,” you noted, nudging your face against his shoulder. A small, wicked grin began to simmer atop your lips, your eyes filled with mischief as you asked, “Want me to make it up to you?” 

Before he could utter a word, you were already straddling his waist, peppering his cheeks, neck and shoulders with kisses as the rush of morning blood swelled his cock with eager anticipation. Both indulging in chasing your highs, you skillfully raked yourself over Beckman’s thick cock until your walls contracted in blissful flutters around his girth; his seed spilling within you as your lips pressed against one another. 

This time, Beckman did all the heavy lifting with aftercare. He drew you a warm bath, your iron pipes heating your water reserves and filling the large basin with soapy water as you lay in your bed, laughing at yourself as you felt truly happy. 

The taps squeaked off, your long-haired lover returning to you with his pants hanging limply from his hips. His lips collected yours beneath his, giving you a lengthy kiss as you leant into him. Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes as his smile illuminated his face. 

“I promised our niece pancakes,” he reminded you, nudging your chin with his nose, “Come join us after your bath. I'll have coffee waiting for you back at the lodgings.” You swooned, whimpering at the thought as he laughed at you. 

“You truly are a man after my own heart, aren't you?” you uttered more as a statement than a question, “Pancakes for the princess, coffee for the-.”

“-The queen,” he hastily confirmed your title to him, reaching down and collecting your left hand within his right, “You're my queen.” He pressed his lips on your knuckles while looking deeply into your eyes. 

“Oh, stop it, flatterer,” you giggled at him, turning your left hand within his to collect his chin, “Would that make you the king?” 

“Nay, my lady,” he smiled at you, his lips pressing against your palm before tugging down at your wrist, “I am your knight,” he kissed your wrist, approaching your forearm. “Your loyal soldier,” he trailed a soft kiss down to the inner crease of your elbow. “Your fierce protector,” he trailed his lips over your bicep to your shoulder, “And, most importantly,” he kissed your nose, “I am your friend first.”

“That you are, Benn Beckman,” your dazed and lovestruck eyes held his for a moment, him falling victim to your inquisitive stare, “But the most important aspect is actually,” you sat firmly up, your faces at eye level and leaving no air for misinterpretation. “You are my love,” you confessed, “You will always be my love.”

“As you will be mine,” he whispered, his voice wavering with his confession. He surged his face down to yours, his body caging yours beneath it as he pressed his unwavering love into you to solidify his vow. Just as you moved to hook your legs around his and deepen the kiss, he chuckled, tearing himself off you. 

“Enough o’ that,” he chastised you, his eyes shut as he stood upright, “Keep that up, and we won't ever leave this fuckin’ room.” You rose up onto your elbows behind you, sensually biting your lip and carefully dragging your toes over his thigh. 

“What if I don't want you to ever leave this room?” His head snapped over to you, his gaze firm and longing. 

“You're going to be the end of me,” he sighed, catching your ankle and drawing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against it. “Pancakes and coffee first,” he growled, “Then back to this room until my queen is satisfied, yes?” 

You giggled a soft, “Aye, sir,” which prompted Beckman to fall deeper into your trap, truly not wanting to leave. You handed him back his shirt, aiding him to thrust his arms into the sleeves, and gave him a soft kiss goodbye. You watched him approach the tavern with a soft bounce in his step, as you shrouded yourself with the door. 

As you turned to approach your warm bath, a rumble of your personal Den-Den hummed to life. Puzzled, you reached for the small shell and elevated it to your ear. 

“Enjoying your time away with our niece, my dear?” the disinterested call of Mihawk hummed at you through the transponder, “She would be about five now, yes?”

“Good morning, my lord,” you smiled into the transponder as you gathered your bathing supplies to begin basking in the soft call of the water, “Have you arrived back at Kuraigana already, sir-?”

“-I’m sorry, dear,” he spoke over you, his tone depicting an unnatural worry to you, “I truly wanted to know about Uta and the Red-Hair crew, believe me. That will need to wait, I'm afraid. You need to sit down while I tell you this, and ensure you are alone.” 

At the swift change of his tone, you sat on your bed, your bathtowl beneath your naked form as you gathered a robe to shroud yourself. 

“I am sat, Mihawk,” you informed him in a professionally practiced tone, “What happened? What did you do?” 

There was a brief pause, a small stagger of breath within his tone, his voice betraying him as he attempted to steady it. After a moment, he informed you of his travels. 

“My bounty has been canceled, and, by association, so has yours.” You cocked your head to the side, holding the shell closer to your ear as he admitted, “I have joined with the marines to become one of the seven warlords of the sea.”

You were immediately flooded with dread, your mind racing with you at this knowledge. Your bounty was hefty, your collection of whispers on the wind keeping you informed of hunters and marines before you docked or left Kuraigana. 

“What does that mean?” You asked, shaking your head as you attempted to process the information, “I work for them now, too?” 

“Absolutely not. You work for me, and I advocated for you because you live with me in Kuraigana,” he relayed to you, “I refuse to have every Marine rat come to my door and attempt to collect your bounty each time I receive orders from the World Government.” 

After taking a few moments to collect yourself, you ready the question Mihawk knew you would ask. Although he anticipated it, he truly could not prepare for the heartbreak depicted in your tone. 

“What are you asking me to do?” 

“You need to come home, immediately,” he whispered after taking a slow and steady breath, “Leave the Red-Hairs and come back home to me.” 

The next question that fell from your lips almost broke him, the new warlord experiencing the greatest empathy for his oldest friend and closest confidant. 

“Will I ever be permitted to see them again?” 

The pause he produced had your breath stop, your heart beating heavier and heavier with each burst, “...it means no contact for at least five years.”  

You could barely process the following information Mihawk was relaying to you, his voice attempting to produce further instructions of, “That includes calls, letters, physical contact. We will not see our niece again for quite some time.” 

Your voice caught in your throat, your pulse beating heavy in your ears with a brutality you had not had since your first encounter with the fight, flight or freeze reaction.

“My dear, did you hear me?” the smooth drawl of Mihawk's voice broke you out of your rapidly panicking thoughts, your mind snapping back to you. 

“I-I can't do that,” you stuttered, your eyes swelling with immediate grief, “I can't do that, Mihawk. Especially now, since-...” your voice trailed off, your eyes immediately falling to the closed door of your ship. 

After a moment of silence, Mihawk clicked his tongue in shock, putting the pieces he feared together 

“You're finally been in bed with Beckman, haven't you?” your stifled sob escaped your lips, prompting your right hand to clap over it. Soothing assurances poured from his honey-sweet tone. 

“My dear, I'm so sorry,” his apology fell on deaf ears as your body already began to mourn the years to be lost to you. After taking a moment longer to dwell with your shattered heart, you hardened your stance and blinked back the rise of sorrow in your eyes. 

“What would you have me do, my lord,” your cool tone depicting your cast aside emotions in each articulated syllable. 

“Best to tell only Shanks, and leave him to relay what he wants to his crew,” he directed you, your body moving as automatically as it could to prepare yourself to receive your orders, “You need to come back before the spy network can draw a connection between us and them.”

You stepped into the bath, hastily ridding yourself of the prior night and morning shared in the arms of your lover and stepping out to dry yourself. Housing the chain of the plug out from your bath. In lieu of the sundress you had desired to wear for the day, you tugged on your old uniform: a hooded shawl, tanned pants and a lengthy shirt beneath a face shield that only showcased your eyes above it. 

Before Mihawk ended the call, he advised you with a swift and steady articulation. 

“You may do what you need to do to make it easier on yourself and your niece, but know,” he paused, inhaling a deep breath, “The longer you dwell with them, the more danger you put not only yourself, but Uta in. Goa kingdom hosts marines, pirates and bandits alike. If you're seen with them, the marines have been ordered to kill on sight.”

“Aye, sir,” you uttered in a voice darker than night. Mihawk uttered a final precaution to you, his sorrow almost depicted in itself, “Better to have them hate you than for them to chase you.” 

Ending the transponder call, you finally had a moment to dwell in silence before deciding on what direction to take. As you looked at yourself in your vanity, it seemed as if one has already been made for you. 

[desceros]

You & GB are RUINING me with your blurple villain Leo au How dare you sirs?! You've turned me absolutely feral a slobbering bitey mess /pos

Unfortunately for you activating my hyperfixation also means activating my obsessive brain spinning... Questions be upon ye!!!

Did Lamb-chan grow up with Donnie? How did she first meet villain!Leo? What did she do/say that flipped Leo from "you're a pretty dumb innocent little lamb huh" to "you're *mine* I am keeping you forever"? How did Donnie react the first time Lamb-chan came home smelling like Leo? Is that what snapped his control, the moment his instincts drove him to finally (thoroughly) demonstrate just how well he can take care of her? How did Leo react the next time he saw Lamb-chan & she smelled like Donnie?

I humbly submit these questions in the hopes that you may see fit to give me any crumbs nay even specks of delicious brain food that can be spared 🙏 pls & ty 🙏🙏

[after i gush for twenty minutes about how this is all their fault for enabling me] oh man i love questions

EDIT THIS GOT SO LONG. OH MY GOD. IM PUTTING IT UNDER A CUT also hi @gbao3 <3 please add your thoughts to this as well

so it aaaaaaall started with this post, with leo being the wolf and donnie being the sheep dog.

as such, you're childhood friends with donnie, since sheep dogs grow up with their sheep. i imagine he's basically always been a little in love with you, but it hasn't always been... ah... healthy? like. when he was young it was that kind of 'when we grow up let's get married bc we're best friends' love. and then as a teenager it became kind of an obsession. doesn't the world know how important you are to him? can't you see how dangerous it can be without him to protect you?

it's during this stage that he's maybe a bit self-destructive with it, literally at one point putting himself between you and another mutant, ending up with him having the scars on his shell. he mellows out a little as he grows older, to the point where now it's just a fact of his life that he's in love with you and there won't ever be anyone else; it's less of a fire inside of him and more just. yeah. duh? of course i love them and would die for them? zzzzz next question. but he's still very much the kind of person who asks you your itinerary down to the fifteen minute mark when you leave so he can make sure to know exactly when you'll be home.

i suspect that as lamb-chan, as much as you also love donnie, that can get a little, uh. overbearing. to say the least. i think that you have a habit of slipping out from time to time (since you live at the lair where donnie is always always always watching), just to breathe, to get away from it a little. the world looks a little different without donatello at your side, after all, and you're a little curious. so maybe you wander a little too far, sometimes.

and leo. god. leo is a breath of something that feels like air, but you're not sure what it is.

i don't have the exact first meeting pinned down in my head, but i do have this mental image of him sitting on a fire escape, one knee bent up to his chest and the other hanging down the side, a toothy grin on his face as he mockingly asks what a soft little thing like you is doing on this side of town. and you see him and you're just like, oh. he. he looks a lot like donnie. so you're a lot less scared than you probably should be, and that—that fascinates him. what kind of world do you live in where he's all but a perfect picture of the underbelly of the world, and you smile at him?

what would it take for you to look at him like everyone else does?

so he invites you to come back again. and you, well, you're just like. wow!! friend shaped!! so you do. but this time leo's not on the fire escape. he's on the ground, and he circles you a bit like a predator would. he's looking for you to be uncomfortable; to be afraid. but he made one small mistake; the shape of his smirk, now that he's close, is eerily familiar. it looks so much like donnie's, you could swear the two were twins. and it makes it so, so hard to be anything other than curious. mikey and raph don't look so similar to donnie, after all. why does leo?

so it continues like that until one day, leo says something and you laugh. and that—that hits him like a bludgeon to the chest. it's not like any laugh he's ever had directed at him before. and when you open your eyes, wiping away the amused tears, your gaze is so fucking soft. in that moment, leo realizes that he's hungry. and you—you look like you'd taste so. good.

meanwhile donnie is like. no really. where the fuck are you going. and one day he follows you and who the fuck is this guy with his arms around you. (but i think i'm going to leave that one for another day bc i have a nice one-shot in my drafts folder about how that'd play out)

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Peace {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}

this image is from Lamb (1985) but for the purposes of the fic it is young Qui-Gon and young Obi-Wan

It was a long day. You had just laid little Obi to bed and the freshly appointed Master Jinn was learning just how hard it was to be a Master. He stayed with Obi as the boy drifted off into sweet dreams, and as you finished changing into pajamas in the ensuite.

You exited the bathroom in a simple white nightie, ending mid thigh with lace on the hem. He doesn't move from his upright position, but does open is right arm for you to snuggle into. He closes his journal and nurses a cup of hot tea to relax.

When he gets tired like this, you know he like to be alone in his thoughts, so you quietly rub circles onto his chest and he plays with your hair. After a while he stops his ministrations, causing you to look up at him, thinking he was ready to sleep and wanted to move positions.

Instead, he leans down to kiss you sweetly, and whispers, "how do you make it look so easy?" You send him a toothy smile and he slides his body down the length of the bed. You follow his lead and slide your frame to fit into his, resting your head on his chest, able to see Obi safe and sound. He kisses the top of your head and reaches over to the light and switches it off. Now, you all were at peace.

[rabbit-or-rib]

Hihi!! Can i get a platonic habit + Evan (if you can) x reader whos like habit a bit? Gn!reader whos like habit in the sense they are a chaotic eldritch being who does anything for shits and giggles. Instead of rabbits its like rams/lambs

"Hello my little lamb :D"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE Y-"

hihi !! i think this character sounds so cute 😭 as always let me know if you want me to alter anything :) i'm sorry this is so short!

[PLATONIC] 🐇☠️ HABIT / Evan Myers x gn!eldritch!reader :)

· · ·

HABIT :

Evan Myers :

he thinks you're fun!

strikingly territorial over Evan, though, would not recommend trying to yoink him away any time soon

other than that you guys get along well!

if you two are just passing by each other you'll get flashed a toothy smile accompanied by "heya, Rabbit."

if you call him lamb/little lamb he's gonna do a double take the first couple times

little ???? 🤨🤨🤨 excuse you ??????

he'll begrudgingly adjust dw

you jumpscare HIM sometimes tbh

he's so used to being the person in charge and in control of things that when you start popping up without warning and without him being able to tell you're there you scare TFFFF outta him

you guys do have fun messing with Evan day to day :) much to Evans dismay

ur gonna kill him

dealing with Habit AND you ??? at the same time ??????

y'all are gonna give him a heart attack

he's a little bit very freaked out, he tries to warm up to you because he knows you're not exaaactly Habit, but GOLLYY if it isn't rough for a while

all in all I don't know how close you could get to Evan like this, but he would probably slowly build up more of a tolerance for shenanigans from the both of you

[dilf-din]

A Million Little Heartbeats

Pairing: Joel & Ellie

WC: 2650

Warnings: none, maybe light language, the fluffiest fluff

A/N: I absolutely adore these two. They control my brain. Please enjoy Ellie surprising Joel on his birthday.

Ellie looked nervously across the table at Tommy and Maria, brows knit together and chewing her lip. She was too scared to be hopeful yet. The idea came to her on a whim, and, well, that whim became a carefully mapped out trip for her and Joel.

Maria looked down at the map and back to Tommy. He was bent over their kitchen table carefully tracing the route with his pointer finger. Ellie could tell by their body language that an entire unspoken conversation was happening. Eyes flitting back and forth from the worn atlas pages to the other’s face. Because it was regarding his brother, Maria decided to default to Tommy, trusting his judgement.

“Looks good to me, Ellie girl,” he said with a soft smile, straightening his posture to look her head on.

“Sooo, we can go?” she asked slowly.

Maria took one last look at Tommy who broke out in a toothy grin, “You can go.”

Ellie yelped and rushed to hug him, “Thank you both so much. I think it’ll really mean a lot to him.”

“It will,” Tommy said with a mix of joy and sadness in his eyes. The veil of grief lifted slightly to show what really lay behind his usually cheerful facade.

“I’ll need your help convincing him,” Ellie explained, gathering the map in her hands to carefully tuck into her backpack.

“I’ll take care of it,” Tommy winked.

Joel was supposed to be meeting them soon for supper at Tommy and Maria’s. He was finishing up some repairs on the livestock fence, replacing the rotted boards with strong, new ones.

Ellie was so excited she felt like her heart was going to beat straight out of her chest and start skipping around the room with her. She had to play it cool though. Joel knew her too well to let a particularly anxious mood go unnoticed. Thankfully, Maria emerged with Jonah on her hip, the perfect distraction for the way her mind was currently spinning in circles. He made grabby hands to Ellie who happily took him into her arms.

“Hey buddy!” she grinned as he threw his arms around her neck in a warm embrace, his wild curls squishing against her cheek. “Do you want to pick out a movie to watch before dinner?”

“Balto!” he yelled, kicking his feet as Ellie made her way to their tv. They didn’t have a huge movie selection, a couple of cartoons that Jonah liked to sift through. His current fixation was with the wolves in Balto, but Ellie really liked the days he picked the Iron Giant. She popped the tape into their VHS player and sat on the floor in front of their couch. She pulled a faded throw pillow off and tucked it between her legs to make a seat that Jonah gladly took, tucking himself back against her chest while the slightly fuzzy commercials started playing.

Joel came in a few minutes later, wiping his boots on the mat before closing the door behind himself. He smiled at the sight of his nephew snuggled up with Ellie as they watched the same movie for easily the hundredth time. He thought fondly of sitting in that same position with Sarah watching Free Willy over and over. Her love for animals dictated even her movie choices at that age.

“Get it all fixed up, big brother?” Tommy asked clapping him on the shoulder.

“Shouldn’t be any more lambs sneaking into the greenhouse,” he said confidently, shedding his jacket to make his way into the kitchen with the other adults.

Dinner went on without a hitch. Maria prepared some delicious chicken and rice in a cream sauce. She used some of the last of the late summer blackberries to whip up a simple cobbler for dessert.

Once they had all had their fill and pushed back from the table, Maria led the attack.

“So, Joel, I understand you have a birthday coming up,” she said coolly.

He snorted and shrugged, “Just another day.”

“What if you did something this year?” Tommy suggested nonchalantly, jaw resting in his hand, elbow propped up on the table.

Joel drew his eyebrows together, “Now hold on, what’s goin—“

“I want to take you to Colorado!” Ellie blurted.

Joel turned to face her. “Colorado? What? Why?”

“I’ve got it all mapped out and everything. It’s a surprise though, you can’t know until we get there,” she said quickly, grabbing the map from her bag and shoving it into his hands.

Joel looked from the map across the table to his brother with confusion painted on his face.

“That’ll take weeks, we can’t jus—“

“Maria said yes,” Ellie quickly cut him off.

Maria nodded, the look on her face confirming the accusation. “We can spare you two and a couple of horses for that long. As long as you look around and try to bring back anything you think could be useful, that’s all I ask,” she said with a shrug, drawing a long sip of coffee from the faded blue mug in front of her.

“We’d need to leave by Saturday if we’re gonna get there on time,” Ellie explained outlining the carefully drawn route she had agonized over.

“Alright, kiddo, you lead the way,” he smiled at her, eyes crinkling at the edges.

She smiled warmly while he laced an arm around her waist and brought her in for a squeeze, pressing a small kiss to her bare arm.

The pair spent the next few days gathering supplies and packing their bags. They counted on being able to hunt for most of their meals, bringing a large stash of jerky as a last resort. Ellie was getting pretty good with a rifle. She was itching to be able to join the patrol rotation in the spring when she turned eighteen.

Joel kept trying to get her to slip up and tell her the reason for the trip, but she just rolled her eyes every time.

“I’m not telling you, so quit guessing.”

Saturday morning rolled around, and the two were at the stables at dawn loading up their horses. Joel was on Callus, Ellie paired with a white and grey speckled mare named Andromeda. At least that’s what Ellie called her. She’s always picked stars and constellations saying their given names were too boring.

With a couple of extra bags secured for supplies to bring back, the two headed out, Ellie taking the lead. The last of the August heat had faded as September swept in with a chill. Ellie had the sleeves of her flannel rolled up, and the hairs on the bits of her forearm that were exposed were standing on end. Her hair was getting longer, she had taken to pulling half of it back to keep it out of her eyes just like Tess wore it. Whether that decision was subconscious or an homage to their fallen friend, the small reminder sent a pang through Joel’s chest the first few times he saw her like that.

He sat back in awe, reveling in how much she had grown since they first met in Boston. He never thought he’d get another chance to see a kid grow up. It’s like she picked up right where Sarah left off, a little gift from the universe to mend his heart back together.

After they had been on the road for about an hour, Joel spoke up, “Can I get some puns, Ellie girl?”

She turned over her shoulder to give him a mischievous grin. “I came prepared!” she called back, waving No Pun Intended Vol. 2 in the air. She had tied it to her waist with her jacket for easy access. She flipped to the spot she had dog-eared and let out a groan, “Aw man, this page is ripped.”

“Oh no,��� Joel called back.

“Yeah, it’s pretty tear-able.”

“Jesus,” he snorted, erupting into a chuckle.

They took 191 South straight down into Utah, only making it in to Colorado with two days remaining of their three week trek.

They settled for the night just after crossing the state line as indicated by the faded road sign they passed, settling by an old rest stop Joel said was for tractor trailers that used to drive across the country. They fed and watered the horses and set up camp on the backside of the concrete structure. The pair had been lucky enough to not see another soul so far, but he had reluctantly agreed to split the watch shifts with Ellie so they could both get some rest.

A few days back, they had found some canned goods, and so were helping themselves to a meal of jerky, lima beans, and corn. They fire crackled like popcorn kernels jumping from their shells. Joel said that meant the wood had a little extra moisture in it and hadn’t dried properly.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re goin’ now?”

“We’re headed towards the White River,” Ellie responded, scraping the last bits of corn out of the can with her fork and setting it beside her with a contented sigh.

“Towards?” he raised his eyebrow questioningly.

“Will you just trust me old man? No more questions,” she chastised, her tone of voice lighthearted.

“Fine,” he grumbled, trying to seem discontent, but, truthfully, he had loved all the one on one time this trip had provided them. Between school, running around with her friends, and spending every free second at the stables, Joel felt like he was losing his grip on her. Not that he held with a tight fist by any means, but she was growing up, branching out. It hurt like hell and was beautiful all at the same time, like watching your baby taking their first wobbly steps, knowing you need to keep your distance or they’ll never keep going. But the fear of seeing them fall was thick in the air, even if it would only hurt for a second. He experienced this with Sarah, but never to this degree. If Sarah made it to her age, she’d probably have a license, a job, a boyfriend. Joel smiled sadly into the flames, eyes flitting to his shattered watch face. What he wouldn’t give to hold her just one more time.

“I’ll take first watch,” Ellie announced, standing up and breaking his concentration.

He nodded and pulled out his sleeping bag. Ellie tossed him hers so he could double up and try to take some of the sharpness out of the hard ground. He fell asleep thinking of Sarah, of her melodic laugh and soft brown eyes. He didn’t often get good dreams of her, even still, so he held on to this one with white knuckles.

Ellie saw him tensing in his sleep, fists clenching and unclenching. She wondering if the nightmares would ever fade for either of them. If he was still fighting his monsters, she figured she would be for a long, long time. Sentenced to a life of dreading evening’s gentle tide that would inevitably turn into thrashing waves.

Just one more day of traveling, she told herself, this would all be worth it, make everything feel a little lighter.

Another day of travel brought them another twenty miles closer. They would reach their destination by early the following morning, landing perfectly on Joel’s birthday. Ellie hoped with everything she knew how that everything would work out, that they would still be there. What if she brought him all this way for nothing. He noticed how she had retreated into herself the closer they got to her pencil mark on the map.

On the morning of his birthday, they packed up early to head out by dawn. Just one more quick stint and they’d be able to settle down for a few days, let the horses rest.

They had broken away from the highway long ago. The usual clopping of hooves muffled by soft grass underfoot. A low fog hung over the ground, the glimmering green blades longing for the sun’s rays to warm their bones once again. Soft light was breaking through the trees overhead, streaming through the gaps in the branches where the leaves had already let go. Ellie hadn’t said a word the whole time.

Joel cleared his throat, deciding to speak to the palpable apprehension he sensed, “Ellie? I just wanted you to know, darlin’, that even if this doesn’t work out the way you planned,” he paused, “Even if we can’t find what you were hoping for, I really loved spending this time with you kiddo.”

Right when he said that, something caught her eye in the clearing. She tried not to scream with excitement.

“We’re here!” she announced triumphantly. She pulled back on Andromeda’s reins to stop her completely. Joel followed suit, swinging down from Callus with ease. Ellie had been following the signs leading them through a long forgotten park. There was a bit of a fence left near the clearing that they tied the horses too, planning to let them free to roll in the grass and stretch their legs the rest of the day.

“So what’s the big deal?” Joel asked, trailing behind Ellie as they neared the edge of the clearing that stopped at the top of a hill.

“Shhh,” Ellie hushed him, grabbing his hand to lead him forward.

Below them lay a valley filled with thousands of monarch butterflies. Most of them were resting in the cooler, shaded part, but where the sun’s rays had crested the treetops and gently floated down to the ground, there were hundreds of them already in the air. Flashes of orange and black against the cloudless sky.

“I thought you might wanna spend your birthday with Sarah this year,” she said sheepishly, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he might think this was a stupid gesture.

Joel pulled her into a tight hug. Her arms reluctantly wrapped around him.

“Thank you, baby,” was all he could choke out. Joel tried his best to blink back the tears, but a few streamed down his cheeks.

When he finally pulled away, Ellie cleared her throat this time, “They don’t stay forever, let’s get down there,” she smiled.

Joel returned the smile and took her hand back in his. Together, they carefully made their way down the hill, still slick from dew, until they found themselves carefully stepping over the still sleeping creatures.

The butterflies seemed utterly unbothered by their presence, floating close enough to touch. Joel lifted a finger out and one immediately lit on it. He tried to keep his chuckle in, not wanting to startle it.

Ellie couldn’t keep the grin off her face. She had never seen him look so young, so alive. She let him make his way over to a rock jutting out from the opposite hill walling in the valley. He sat down on it carefully and stilled his breathing. Sure enough, four, five, six monarchs were resting on him. Ellie pulled her sketchbook out of her backpack and started outlining the scene. She spread out on a particularly sunny patch of grass, stretched out on her stomach with her legs straight behind her, and got to work.

They stayed there for a long time. The monarchs woke up in waves as the sun climbed higher in the sky, then they were off to continue their journey.

When there were only a few dozen left, Joel broke the silence.

“Man, she would’ve loved this,” he said wistfully.

“Hopefully you did too,” Ellie said sleepily, pulling herself up from her spot in the grass and crossing closer to him.

“How could I not? Got to spend the day with both of my girls,” he smiled, pulling her in for another embrace.

“Joel, look,” she gasped, pointing to the sky as another wave flew directly overhead the valley.

[thepenultimateword]

Short Prompt #34

CW: Captivity, hostage, dehumanization

"Who's the civ?" Villain asked, nodding to the most obvious innocent she'd ever seen in her life.

"Just a little mouse who was caught being a bit too ambitious," Supervillain smirked, wrapping their long slender fingers around the civilian's trembling jaw. "Spying in places he doesn't belong."

"I swear," the man said. "I was just hired to clean. I didn't mean to hear anything. I didn't even know anyone was here. Please, I promise, I won't tell anyone. It never happened. You can make me sign a contract or something. Just please--"

Supervillain's nail dug hard into the civilian's throat causing him to yelp and sending 5 large drops of blood drizzling down his throat. "You will speak when spoken to. You got that, little mouse?"

The civilian swallowed hard against their nail points but nodded.

This guy really wasn't a spy, was he? It was possible the other villains knew that too, but playing with people had never been beneath any of them before.

Villain took a long drag on her drink, eyeing his shocked and teary expression and the ropes skinning his wrists raw.

"So what are you going to do with him?"

"We were thinking of a game."

"A game?" Villain raised one brow.

"A gambling game. Whoever wins keeps the prize."

The civilian shivered hard, and suddenly he looked even more like a lamb in a den of wolves. Poor thing. Most people here would eat him alive. Some literally.

Villain plunked her glass on the table. "I want in."

A long, toothy grin, curved Supervillain's face. "How very unlike you, Villain."

"Yeah, yeah, just tell me the game."

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: Wyatt & Ahmed (NPC penned by Caitlyn!) SUMMARY: NPC Ahmed is out hiking and stumbles upon Gator!Wyatt during a meal. Wyatt decides he’s still hungry and gives chase. A cleverly hidden pit is Ahmed’s only saving grace, and Wyatt is now trapped. CONTENT WARNINGS: Creature death (lamia dinner)

—

He stared at the strange thing, his massive crocodilian head cocked to the side. It stared back, silent and unbothered by the lamia’s presence, somehow. Most creatures that didn’t attack on sight were instead prone to fleeing from the reptilian beast, and for good reason—he was always hungry. This one, though… maybe it couldn’t run? Its back half seemed covered in the plant life it was nestled amongst. Was it trapped? Why else would a lamb just lay there when confronted by the likes of Wyatt? The staring contest continued for a few moments more before the lamb let out a loud, startling bleat. Wyatt winced away from it, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but nothing happened. 

It bleated again, and the lamia parted his jaws in a toothy grin. Wow. What an easy lunch this had turned out to be! He was still curious though, not quite content to eat the thing just yet. So instead he lowered himself onto all fours and began nosing around the lamb’s hindquarters, trying to find the roots or whatever it was that were holding the pathetic thing in place and assess the damage. If there was rot, he might want to avoid its back half. What he found instead were fruits growing on whatever kind of bush this was that had ensnared the creature, and they smelled terribly sweet and delicious. Curious and not particularly cautious, Wyatt bit one from the bush and swallowed it down, releasing a pleased rumble in response. Delicious! He bit off another fruit, munching happily and rooting around for more while the lamb continued to wail, not sounding very much like it was in pain, but just disturbed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to you,” he muttered as he gulped down another fruit. Dessert was coming first today.

—

Ahmed didn’t mean to get himself into sticky situations. Honestly, he didn’t. But they kept finding him. One minute, he was enjoying his walk on the trail, a few miles out from where he had started. The next, he heard bleating and decided to check it out. Big mistake. He was greeted by the sight of a giant crocodile creature about to chow down on it. Ahmed blinked a few times, trying to figure out if what he was seeing was real. When he realized it wasn’t disappearing after a rapid succession of blinks, he took a step back, then another. Before he knew it, Ahmed was backpedaling away from the scene and promptly tripped over a root sticking out of the ground. He made a loud noise as he fell onto the ground with a loud “Oof!” 

The strange creature turned its attention to him, and Ahmed’s expression turned from fear to embarrassment as he slowly raised his hand up into the air and waved awkwardly and slowly. “Uh. Hi?” He called out to the creature, then to the lamb stuck in the brush, then back to the obviously hungry crocodile. “I… didn’t mean to…” Ahmed trailed off as he scrambled to his feet, backing up a bit more to put more space between himself and the creature. “I’ll go.” He insisted with a sure nod of his head as he turned to leave but then locked eyes with that sad, pathetic lamb. “Uh.” He uttered dumbly before pointing to the creature. “What’s uh, what’s he doing all the way out here?”

—

Humans sure were good at interrupting his meals, weren’t they? And after he’d been so polite, choosing creatures over sapient beings for his lunch. God. His yellow gaze fell upon the stranger, permanently bared teeth parting as a low hiss rumbled out of his gullet, a warning to back off. It wasn’t needed, of course, the human tripping over himself to get away… but he messed that up too, of course. The raised hand and awkward greeting was unexpected, and Wyatt had to wonder how many other bizarre things this one had seen to illicit a response like that. 

No matter, he was leaving. 

Or, he was supposed to be, but then he stopped, turned, and asked about the lamb. The gator grumbled to himself, thinking that of course it couldn’t have been that simple. Of course.

“Bold of you to assume I was smart enough to answer that question,” Wyatt started, sounding annoyed. His gaze then flicked over to the lamb, who was bleating pitifully and trembling where it sat. “And I dunno. I found it here. Stuck or somethin’.” He glanced back at the human, dragging his long tail across the forest floor behind him to partially circle it around the lamb. “Finders keepers, mon cher.” With a snort, he craned his head back to face the lamb, who now seemed to realize the peril it was in and began wailing even louder. Annoying. Wyatt didn’t feel like making such a huge mess this time and was pretty sure that he could swallow this little guy whole, so instead of snapping off that hollering head, the gator bit down on the lamb’s middle and started to pull, trying to free it from the brambles that covered its back half so he could gulp it down. 

—

Ahmed felt frozen in place, none of this felt real. But the gator… thing didn’t seem to be keen on attacking him so much as it was keen on making a snack out of that poor lamb. Ahmed decided that it was better the animal then him in that situation, not wanting to risk the thing’s ire more than he already had just by being there. The creature hissed, and Ahmed was glad he was already backpedaling away. No way did he want to see what those teeth were capable of. 

The creature could talk, and that was enough to shake Ahmed to his core. Of course he’d spoken before, but this time it was directed at him. “Just… are you sure it isn’t a trap?” Ahmed questioned as the creature took a big bite out of poor lamby and tried to pull it free from the bramble. He winced and turned his head, not wanting to bare witness to the gruesome sight. “I mean, really. What if it’s a trap?” He then questioned again as the creature struggled to free his meal from the bramble. The lamb hollering was going to replay in his head for quite some time. 

Ahmed looked around, waiting for something bigger and angrier to show itself. There was no way it wasn’t a trap. In a town like this? Oh yeah, Ahmed was finally catching on. Ahmed took another step back, brows raised in worry as he continued to look around, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for anything to happen. 

—

A trap? That was ridiculous. What kind of predator would be setting a trap, besides… a hunter? Maybe? But weren't they against the killing of innocent creatures? This lamb was practically the poster child for innocence. It was cruel to use it as bait, but maybe hunters were just cruel people. It made enough sense to Wyatt. He eased up on the animal, letting his jaw slacken slightly as his gaze darted around the area, looking for any obvious sign of something or someone lingering in shadow. 

Nothing made itself readily apparent, and the lamia bobbed his head to get a better grip on the lamb again, who was now bleeding rather profusely and making one hell of a racket. If there was anything laying it wait, they ought to have sprung out by now. It was probably fine. Wyatt huffed out a breath and then bit down hard, thrashing his head from side to side to rip the creature free from the brambles that held it in place, only to realize that it wasn't so much tangled in the plants as it was a part of them. Surprised to see vines and leaves instead of back legs, Wyatt still gulped it back, muffling the pitiful thing's final, muted cries in the back of his throat. 

“Wasn't expecting a side salad,” he spoke as soon as his mouth was clear of lamb and vegetation, and his focus then turned back onto the human who stood there in.. shock, maybe? Abject horror at how he could ruthlessly devour such a cute, helpless critter? The cute ones tasted best. That being said…

“Too small, though. Could do with more.” He rose up into a standing position, glaring the human down. If he could smile while like this, he would have. As it was, his teeth were permanently bared, slicked with blood. “Bet you'd hit the spot…”

—

Ahmed was busy trying to get away while the creature took a look around to see if it was safe. Then froze like a deer in headlights when they set their sights on Ahmed as a snack. “Oh, you really don’t want to eat me. I’m lean and gamy. No good for eating.” Ahmed waved their hands in the air, quick to backpedal away from the scene. “Really this was just a bad place for me to be and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just leave you be.” He insisted, taking another step back, not wanting to take his eyes off of the creature. The sight of the creature’s bared teeth was enough to spark some survival instinct in Ahmed, going from afraid to downright angry. “I’m getting really tired of being tossed around and beaten, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to leave.” A hand went to the knife he kept in his pocket, suddenly not afraid to use it as he had been in the past. 

It wasn’t a special knife, it wasn’t big. But in the end, it got its job done when it mattered, especially in a town such as this. Ahmed took another step backwards, getting far enough away that the creature was becoming smaller and smaller in his vision. “You want a real meal, find a deer or something.” Ahmed added before turning and breaking into a run. It was a long shot, and that creature was probably fast, but Ahmed couldn’t be a sitting duck like he felt he was. He ran, and looked over his shoulder to see if the creature was following him, grateful that he kept up with running that he had gotten into when he was in middle school. Thank god for track and cross country, at least he was fast.

—

“You keep sayin’ it, but you ain’t doin’ it,” Wyatt snapped, hunkering down, preparing to leap forward. He didn’t usually just go after innocent bystanders like this, but he was hungry, tired, and cranky from a lack of sleep… and they were alone. No chance for witnesses (though his shrewdness in this regard left something to be desired, lately…). It was too easy a setup, and runner or not, Wyatt had a feeling that this guy couldn’t outpace him. 

The man bolted, and the gator charged after him, crashing through the trees and young foliage that was just saying its hellos to its first spring. He was quick, and smaller than Wyatt, so he had an easier time threading through closely clumped trees. A few times, Wyatt had to race around such thickets, annoyed that this meal on wheels seemed to be smarter than the average deer in his attempts to lose the predator. Still, his gait was long and his powerful limbs carried him swiftly over the earth, slowly gaining on the human as a stretch of flat land greeted them. And to Wyatt’s delight, at the other side of this swathe of even ground was a hill, stretching as far as he could see in either direction. He’d definitely catch the stranger on that hill, humans weren’t built for inclines like he was. You’d have to be part goat! 

With the promise of a big, satisfying meal on the horizon, the lamia basked in the chase. There wasn’t a care or concern in his large, empty head as they reached the foot of the hill, and he opened his jaws to better scoop the human straight up into them. Craning his neck, he was focused on the man, not watching where he was stepping, and—

Something creaked, groaned, and snapped. The bouncy patch of earth that Ahmed had run across without issue gave way under Wyatt’s hefty weight, sending the creature tumbling down into a deep pit. He roared in surprise, twisting in the air and landing with a heavy thud on his side. The little knapsack that was secured to his back spilled its contents all over the dirt floor of the pit—a change of clothes, his phone, and keyring scattered around him while he himself lay still, breathing but unmoving. 

Ow. 

—

Ahmed felt like his heart had leapt into his throat as he ran, the creature gaining speed on him. He had to get out of there, he had to– something felt strange as he ran over a patch of earth, it felt as if he bounced off of it rather than ran across it. He didn’t stop to investigate, he didn’t have time on his side. Then, a crashing sound. Ahmed skidded to a halt and turned around to notice that the patch of earth he’d traversed was now a large hole in the ground. What? 

He took a hesitant step toward the hole, peering down it with a blink. Sure enough, there was the creature at the bottom of the hole, unable to escape. A breath Ahmed had been holding escaped, and he took a step back, heavily debating leaving him there. After all, he was about to eat him, was he not? Ahmed swallowed thickly, breathing heavy as he struggled to catch it. He thought about it for a while. This creature was sentient, obviously. It had been talking to him, conversing with him. It had the head of a giant lizard, but the body of a man. The whole situation was strange, but then again, he was starting to get used to the strange. He let out a deep sigh before peering back into the hole, silent as he waited for the creature to say something.

He noticed a phone, some clothes, and a keyring. So this guy had a life, a car at least. “You always have the whole gator thing going on?” Ahmed questioned, brows furrowing as he assessed the creature. “Like, are you able to look human? I’ve never seen an alligator with a cellphone before, that’s all.” 

—

His whole body ached, head spinning as he picked himself up off the dirt. Still on all fours, the creature angled his head skyward to see the human peering over the edge of the pit at him, and felt an immense surge of anger and shame at having been caught like this. “Oh, fuck off!” he shouted, crouching low and attempting to leap up to the ledge. His claws raked through the dirt but it was no use, the pit was too deep and the earth too soft for him to get any kind of traction. He fell back to the bottom and began a rapid, circular pace on all fours as he tried to think his way out. 

First, his would-be lunch needed to leave. Then he would get his phone and text someone to come get him. Caleb came to mind, but he didn’t want to stress him out… Charlie came to mind next, who would probably find the whole ordeal pretty funny, but was likely to keep it between them if Wyatt asked. Of course, Charlie didn’t know he was a lamia, but that might not need to become part of the conversation. 

He looked up again, squinting his eyes against the light of midday. “You won, all right? Get lost.”

—

Usually, Ahmed would go out of his way to help. But how many times could he do that before it wasn’t worth it anymore? Ahmed thought of all the moments his life had almost been forfeit in a town such as this. He shuddered, then backed up away from the hole. He’d won, the creature was right. Ahmed shook his head, a tremor starting as he realized just how tired he was of having to run away or get hurt to learn his lesson. 

Bewilderment clear in his face, Ahmed took another step back away from the pit. He’d never left anyone to die before. He’d never thought he’d had it in him before. But there he was, letting his feet carry him away from the scene with his brain on autopilot, away from the creature, away from another almost untimely death. One day, Ahmed would stop getting lucky. He just hoped he was well-equipped until that moment came. “Sorry, man.” He mumbled under his breath as he got back into his car and drove away from the path he’d hiked in from. 

[your-fav-poster]

Dean x Reader

suggestive content, viewer discretion advised.

The supple taste of him on your lips was all you needed to last you fifty years, you were sure that the shade of your bruised and abused lips matched the red of your face. They had to be, with Dean nipping at them the way he was. Heavy breaths filled the air and he guided your hips the way he wanted. You were pliable under his finger tips, moldable and moveable, willing to take anything he wanted to give you.

God the things he wanted to give you, he had a few ideas of what he wanted to give and take. He wanted more, so greedy, feeling the impossible heat of your skin. The skin on your shoulders were lined with proof that this moment was real. The weeks of on-the-road life had caught up to the two of you. In a dirty motel of all places, you made him disinfect the bed first. Check for bedbugs and the bathroom for hidden cameras. He has jostled the mirror off the wall trying to quell your fears. You were continuously appalled by the things Dean would go to make sure you were comfortable. “What’re you thinkin about, pretty thing?” He muttered, making your grinds slightly more aggressive. “Just you,” you sighed out in reply.

He laughed a throaty laugh, it jumped your body slightly, making you whine in return. “Shh shh shh.” he soothed, not that it would help, you both knew it wouldn’t console the way he wanted it to. It came off as pure sin and you both reveled in it. Despite the sin, most nights like these are spent like a time of worship, holding each other like an unspoken prayer.

“Up, cmon.” Dean said, trying to shimmy your panties off of your legs gently. When they got halfway to your thigh he ripped them, getting impatient. You glared at him from under your lashes, it wasn’t often the two of you got to shop for anything besides food and now you would have to replace one of your favorite pairs. He smiled at your sneer, kissing you on the cheek and reaching to unbutton his jeans. “You wanna rip something of mine?” He taunted, laughing slightly at your chagrin. You shook your head, just wanting his pants off.

You helped him slide his pants off, sliding to the floor with them. “Pretty girl, looks so good on her knees.” He said, running his hands through your hair, the strands being pushed from your face as you gazed up at him. A lamb at the altar of your god.

You knew he would ravage you, but it would be so worth the pain. He slid his boxers down and pumped his hand a few times, the tip a shimmery pink. “Say ‘ahh’ for me.” He teased, you pinched his thigh softly to which he flashed you a toothy smile. Despite the pinch, you opened your mouth and he rubbed the tip against your lips. He smeared his pre on your tongue and you recoiled a little at the salty taste, you were never a fan of head but you’d do anything for him. “Hollow out those cheeks for me sweetheart.” you complied and he thrust into your mouth slowly. You moved your tongue on the bottom of the tip as he moved and he groaned, his head lulling back a little. “So good..” he murmured softly, his thrusts going quicker. With your hand you touched what you couldn’t fit, attempting to move your hand in a way that matched his. You knew how he liked it, it was something you memorized with great care, you knew where to put the most pressure and what was the most sensitive and he was coming unglued under your volition.

Taking himself out of your mouth, you lost your train of thought. “What are you up to?” You questioned, he picked you up and laid you on the creaky bed. He silently trailed kisses on your stomach and you thighs to the sensitive place that was leaking just for him, you instinctively tried to close your legs and he bit the inside of your thigh and a warning. He swiped the entirety of your slick with his tongue and you shuddered. He shoved his tongue into your hole and moaned and the taste. Moving his tongue inside you, he rubbed tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue was reaching a spongy spot in you that he always targeted, it made your legs shake.

Lifting himself off of you, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Had to return the favor for you, pretty thing.” and you whined at the loss of contact. “Oh hush, you’ll get something better in a second.” He said to your whining, spitting in his hand and rubbing it on himself. He grabbed your left leg and pushed into you slowly. “Relax.. it’s okay, relax baby.” He whispered, peppering your neck in feathery kisses. It was only a few inches and you were squirming at the burn. He rubbed soothing circles on your hip and lower stomach, inching his way inside you slowly until your pelvises met each others. “Thereee we go, taking me so nicely. Now wrap your legs around me.” You listened, cupping his face in your hands and rubbing your thumb against him. He smiled at you and kissed your nose, starting his movements slowly. He groaned at the way your walls fluttered around him and he muttered something about you being so good but you weren’t really listening, only focusing on the way his hips were making you see stars.

He picked up his pace, your hands gliding from his face to his neck, wrapping your arms around him snuggly. He had his hands on your hips, slamming your body down to match his thrusts up. It was overwhelming and you attempted to squirm despite his hold on you. He paid your squirming no mind, knowing you can’t control it. He watched himself go in and out of you at a brutal pace, watching you flutter around him.

“I’m tired,” Dean said, cuddling into you after your escapade. You were both sweaty and tired, you laughed and nodded. You both panicked when you heard a laughing Sam and Castiel walking up the sidewalk to the motel room, both suddenly realizing that this IS a shared room.

[i-fondued]

Ghost | Sinners in Secret | Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One - The Morningstar Incident Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags! A/N: Finally! An update from that cliffhanger LOL

As always, this chapter is has been reviewed by my beta, @lurancyvenom whom I love!

Full Chapter List - HERE AO3 Link - HERE

A gentle breeze blew wisps of my hair across my forehead, the featherlight touches making me flinch as I looked around where I was. I was in the Abbey gardens in the dead of summer while surrounded by Primo’s well loved rose bushes. Spread out beneath me was a large plaid picnic blanket set with a tray of meat, cheeses, crackers, and spreads, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I smiled for a moment, reaching out to brush my fingertips over a petal before it clicked that I wasn’t alone.

I turned to my left, and sitting cross legged on the ground, gazing at me with a curious look on his face, was Lucifer himself. He looked out of place in this place, sitting with me, as he was wearing billowy white robes of gossamer silk so thin they looked to be made of moth wings. He was leaning back on his hands and sunning himself for a moment, but Lucifer’s face made it clear he was waiting for me to speak. 

“Where are we?” I asked, though I had a feeling I knew where I was. “Am I…dead?”

“We are in the in-between,” he spoke, voice like a whisper even in this place. “This is a holding place of sorts while you…”

“-while I’m dying back on the mortal plane?” I interjected, a sort of wry smile on my lips. Lucifer had a sad, forlorn and longing look on his face as he placed a hand on top of mine on the blanket. 

“Yes.”

“C-Can I go back?” I had to ask, voice small as I looked at the puffy white clouds lazily drifting by in the sky. 

“Do you want to, Little Lamb?” Lucifer asked, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy.

“Do I actually get to choose?” 

Lucifer shifted, scooting closer to me and tilting my head to look at him as I brooded over my options. Though, if I was being honest with myself,  even then I knew what I would choose in the end. 

“Yes, Sister. You can choose to go back, but you must be sure.” Lucifer’s hand cupped my jaw as his dark, endless eyes locked on my mismatched set, my heart rate throbbing in my ears. 

“Why is that?” I mumbled, my gaze unknowingly flickering between his eyes and his lips as he tilted his head like he was going to kiss me. 

“Everything has a price, and skipping out on death has a high bounty.” 

“What will I need to give?” 

“Normally, we accept payments of one’s first born child,” he started before chuckling at the look on my face. “But considering your first born would be in my service either way, I’d say we would need another soul to replace yours with.”

“So someone else would have to die instead of me?” I let the thought of that roll around in my head for a moment, not wanting to think of how I’d have to pick someone to take my place but the Dark Lord’s raspy voice pulled me from my thoughts. 

“Let me handle the part of who is taking your place in Purgatory myself, but the price would be between us…” Lucifer murmured, a mischievous and wry smile on his handsome face that made me blush a little as he ran the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip.

“N-Name your price,” I stammered, blushing when he gave me a toothy, predatory grin. 

“When you next die, whether that is within the next week or the next sixty or seventy years, you will stay and you will join me at my side.” 

“What…like a partner?” 

“Something like that…” Lucifer purred, before surprising me and laying me back on the ground. He was looming slightly over me, my heart racing as he leaned in close, whispering lowly in my ear and causing me to shiver. “Your time here is coming to an end, Sister. Make your decision quickly.” 

“Will I still have Terzo and Copia?” I blurted, flustered by my Dark Savior’s attention as he looked down at me. A blush spread over my cheeks as he laughed, a deep and genuine laugh, and grinned at me like a school boy. 

“You can keep your lovers, my Little Lamb. As long as you rule by my side, I assure you there would be no higher pleasure for me than to see my most loyal and devoted servants together for life…as long as you return home to me in death.” Lucifer said, and as he spoke, he curled his hands around my wrists and pinned me slightly before pressing a soft kiss on the edge of my jawline. I bit back a whimper before he cupped my cheek, nuzzling his nose against the corner of my ear as he spoke quietly. “What is your decision, Sister?”

 “I agree, Your Eminence.” I smiled shyly, cheeks inflamed as he looked down at me with barely contained lust, a shiver going down my spine. 

“We will see each other again, my Little Lamb…” 

Lucifer pressed his lips against mine, his sinful tongue slipping into my mouth as I gasped, and arched up against him. I felt like I’d been zapped with a life wire, every nerve frazzled as Satan himself breathed life back into me. Slowly my senses faded, the sound of birdsong and leaves blowing in a summer afternoon were replaced by the sound of sobbing and a wet earth smell. I couldn’t open my eyes properly, the images fuzzy and unclear, but I felt like someone was carrying me. Or maybe I was levitating? Suddenly I was slowly being put back down, feeling a magnetic pull as I was lowered. Under my fingertips I suddenly could feel a cold wetness, either blood or water from the damp underground of the tunnels. 

When it finally felt like every single nerve had reattached itself, a slow locking sensation, it finally dawned on me that I hadn’t taken a breath. My eyes shot open, chest suddenly radiating in unadulterated agony; and only as I was arching out of the arms of Terzo, who was now screaming in terror at my sudden movements, did I gasp for a breath after what should have been my last, before the adrenaline ran out and I felt everything fade away again. 

…

“Maximilliano!” Copia roared, fury pulsing through his veins as he watched the love of his life struggling against Veritas. 

He could hear the thundering sounds of Terzo and his own shoes clacking against the stone as they scrambled towards the scene in front of them. His heart was pounding as he panted, unable to catch his breath as he tried to reach forward, and willed Lucifer to let him reach her in time. Her beautiful eyes locked with his, relief washing over her as she realized just who was sprinting towards her; however her face crumpled into something more akin to confusion as Cardinal Veritas plunged his knife into her chest. Copia screamed out, his stomach in his throat as he almost stumbled in his steps. His heart throbbed as he watched the blood begin to pour out of the wound, his beloved Sister of Sin looking down at her chest in confusion before stumbling. 

“Sorella, no!” Terzo screamed out at Copia’s side, voice filled with anguish as Veritas dumped her body to the ground like it scalded him. He laughed, a dark and vicious sound, as he attempted to get away from them but Terzo was not going to allow that. 

“Omega!”

Copia felt like he was moving through mud, his body suddenly sluggish as the chaos erupted around him and his head throbbed. He looked on, feeling almost like a bystander as Omega appeared, borderline feral as he fed off Terzo’s emotions, and let out an inhuman roar as he grabbed Veritas by the throat and slammed him against the stone wall. Finally he reached Sister and he fell to his knees next to her, Terzo already tugging her into his arms. 

“Amore…Dolce, per favore. Look at me, eh? Please?” Terzo’s voice was lacking any of his normal bravado, cracking slightly on the last word.

Copia reached out tentatively, his hand brushing some of her hair away from her face and unfocused gaze. He felt his throat grow tight, eyes filling with unshed tears, as Terzo continued to beg for her to look at either of them. The Cardinal could see her chest was moving but her breaths were uneven and rattled her frame, and a bleak sadness washed over him. There wasn’t anything they’d be able to do at this rate, and with only Omega to rely on for ghoul magiks, they couldn’t afford to use his skills to get Sorella away from here. He clenched his fist tightly as he tried to rein in the fury that had started running through him with white hot heat. 

He looked to Terzo as he rocked back and forth with her in his arms, tears carving streaks through his already messy Papal paints. Terzo was just shy of losing his mind if Copia had to guess, not that he wasn’t already almost there himself. He wouldn’t look at anyone but her, eyes shedding tears as he sobbed and begged her to hold on, even if neither of them knew quite what to do.

Suddenly the sound of an unholy screeching made both men jump, looking towards the sound. Swiss was arched out as far as his restraints would allow him, the collar around his neck creaking for a moment before it snapped. The ghoul was panting, looking around wildly as he fought to break his wrists free, and Copia couldn’t help but worry what would happen if he was to succeed. Swiss seemed to be getting progressively more feral, Copia observed, as the life slowly faded from his master. It was like the only thing that was keeping him from tearing his way to Veritas. 

As Copia took in the fraying remnants of the only family he’d ever had, even if he had to build it himself, he felt overcome with a blanket of grief but also a simmering heat. A slowly growing tendril of rage slipped into that warmth and the space behind his white iris throbbed so sharply he clawed at his head; willing the headache to stop. 

Defend my flock, Cardinal…your flock… - Copia heard the voice, head throbbing as he looked towards the direction the sound was coming from. 

Veritas was gleefully smiling as he watched Copia and Terzo mourn. It was enough to make the rage grow to a full boil, making his hands tremble. 

An eye for an eye…

Like a marionette, Copia felt like long invisible strings were tugging his limbs as he stumbled towards the blond man. Omega was looking at him curiously but didn’t say anything as the rage flowed through him like jet fuel. His body felt inflamed, the Cardinal’s breath coming in slow huffs as he fought to keep his fists under control. He looked at the unhinged look on Veritas’ face as he laughed, Terzo’s ghoul growling at him to shut up.

“Now you know how it feels, Francesco, to have something you desire with your whole heart ripped from you…” The blond man laughed, a flash of something dark in his blue eyes as he locked on to Copia’s face. “Everything you are, from your position within the clergy to your beloved Sister, should have been mine.”

Something in Copia snapped at that moment. Gone was the quiet and respectable Cardinal; instead a seething predator stood in his place. Without warning he lunged for Veritas, instantly connecting his fist with the other man’s face. Veritas cried out and his hands instantly began to come up to reach for his face but Copia was faster, like they were boys fighting in the school yard again all these decades later. His vision felt like it had gone red, his head pounding with the rapid beat of his heart, and there was a slight buzzing noise as he bellowed out his despair.  His knuckles throbbed faintly while he fought the urge to gouge out the other man's eyes, bringing another blow to his jaw instead. Veritas’ skin had split by his eyebrow and on his bottom lip, there was blood seeping from his wounds staining Copia’s hands but he didn’t even pause as he heard a satisfying crunch of bone under his fist. 

Omega let go of Veritas’ neck, stepping away and seeming slightly stunned by the actions of the Cardinal. Veritas crumbled to the floor after another particularly quick hit, this time to his stomach. The man was hunched over, gasping and fighting to hold down whatever he’d eaten that day. Unable to continue to hold back his temper, he kicked the weaker man in the ribs and felt sick pleasure at the sound of his wheezing after the distinct feeling of his ribs cracking. Carelessly, he rolled him onto his back with his foot and loomed over him as he spoke. 

“Una posizione in un'organizzazione e la vita di qualcuno non sono la stessa cosa…” A position in an organization and someone's life are not the same thing… Copia’s voice was dangerously low, a predatory edge to it as he squatted down over the man.

Veritas didn’t respond. Instead he spit into Copia’s rage filled face, a combination of spittle and blood dripping down Copia’s face. He laughed, a deranged sort of sound, before gasping for breath as Copia wrapped his fingers around his throat. He was shaking, filled with outrage at the audacity of the blond below him. He longed to kill him, to tear him apart limb from limb and leave nothing for anyone to mourn him. Copia longed to be done with this chapter in his life, this petty rivalry. Dimly he was aware of Veritas’ flailing body, his hands clawing at his wrist to try and get him to let go; but none of it even touched the empty feeling in his soul where his Sorella had once sat. 

Copia didn’t stop as Veritas cries became muffled, his eyes almost bulging out of his head, however the featherlight feeling of someone’s hand on his shoulder did make his grip slack slightly. Looking up over his shoulder, following the long line of this person’s arm he scrambled away from Veritas as they spoke.

“Do not be afraid, Francessco.” 

Lucifer himself was standing there, clad in a black two piece suit. He looked more like he was going to a business meeting than arriving on this side of the veil to step in on the beating he was giving the man responsible for currently ruining his life. His master had a wry smile on his face as he looked down at Copia who was shocked, pulse thundering away in his head. 

“While I appreciate you attempting to do my job for me…I will handle this personally. I do not like it when my plans go awry…”

Copia’s eyes locked on Terzo behind him and it dawned on him that neither him nor Omega, who was crouched by his side trying to offer him comfort as he held his beloved close to him, were moving at all. Nor was Swiss who’s claws on his hands were growing longer and a bit of foam dripped from his large teeth as he snarled. It was like they were all frozen in time. Amazed, Copia turned back to look at His Darkness as he approached Veritas. He gasped as Lucifer flicked his wrist at Veritas and he levitated to the wall before the long fingers of Lucifer’s hand gripped his neck firmly and he slammed him backwards against the stone. Copia had to scoot forward to be able to eavesdrop on the conversation; Lucifer was leaning in close and practically whispering to Veritas in his low breathy tone. 

“You would have never had her as you were unworthy, Cardinal Veritas.” 

“N-no pleas-” The blond whimpered, hands coming together in a mock prayer as he gasped for breath.

“You have only ever served yourself.” Lucifer hissed, hand squeezing Veritas’ throat enough to make the other man squeak in fear. 

“My Dark Lord, no! I beg of you, I-” 

“Tell me, have you not wondered why you were never brought before me to be given the chance to show yourself worthy of my mark of devotion?” Lucifer continued, a vicious smirk on his handsome face as Vertas continued to beg for forgiveness softly. “It was because you did the one thing that I cannot allow within my flock.” 

“I-” Vertas began but Lucifer cut him off again; the feeling of the Old One’s dark rage slipping over Copia and making him shudder.

“You betrayed your family. You hurt your own sister, traded her ability to conceive for your promotion to Saltarian’s assistant, all in your pursuit of a title.” 

Copia’s eyes widened, shock evident on his face as his eyes locked on Veritas’ momentarily. For his part, the other Cardinal had the foresight to at least look ashamed. This was news to Copia and he rattled with the implications of that as he remembered the day Caterina had told Terzo she had found out she was unable to carry a child. Oh, how that had been the beginning of the end of their relationship; it hadn’t been the only reason for their breaking up by far but it had been a major factor. Between Terzo’s own desire for a child coupled with the pressure from the clergy of his duty to continue the Papal Line hanging over him like a guillotine, they’d all known that it had been the kiss of death for them. 

“I only ever wante-” 

“All you’ve wanted was power, fame and devotion; you’ve coveted the seat of the papacy since you were a teen. You cannot deny this to me, I know all of your deepest desires.” The deity growled, eyes flashing dangerously in the low light. Copia couldn’t help the small shudder of fear that ran through him. 

Lucifer stepped back, dropping Veritas with a flick of his wrist like he was dirty. The blonde fell like a sack of potatoes, groaning and clutching his injured side as he made impact with the dirty flagstone beneath him. Another wave of his hand and three ghouls appeared in front of Lucifer. All three bowed their heads, saluting in sync, and looked to their master for instructions. The Prince of Hell had his hands behind his back as he looked at Veritas on the floor, his face thinly veiled in disgust. 

“I renounce thee, Maxamilliano Veritas, as a servant of mine. You will be cast out to the bowels of hell, your soul in trade for another.” 

Copia felt his hairs stand on end, a chill in the air as Lucifer spoke, and he felt like his heart was going to stop beating as he listened. His knees grew weak as he watched as spindly tendrils of black seemed to slither forward from the darkness, a wet sound following them that made his stomach heave a little, and came to curl around Veritas. The man was pulled by the tendrils to a kneeling position; one around each wrist and his neck tightly and almost pulsing as they tugged him tightly to the black pool forming under him. 

“Y-Yo-Your Eminence, please…I beg of you to show mercy….” Veritas pleaded, his face contorted in terror under all the bruises and blood. 

“Ah, but you of all people should know that begging for mercy doesn’t work…” Lucifer’s handsome face flashed with a dangerous smile as he loomed over the other man. “I hope you’re ready to confront your demons, Maxamilliano…”

Lucifer turned away, slowly taking steps towards Copia, as he gave the ghouls a small nod. Two of them took strides over to Veritas, wrapping their hands around his upper arms as the man screamed and begged for Lucifer’s forgiveness. All his pleading fell on deaf ears and suddenly the man began to sink into the inky pool of black. He lashed out, nails digging into the closest spot of flagstone and shrieking like he was being burned as he sunk lower and lower. The ghoul stood stoically, looking at Lucifer who didn’t seem bothered by the display. 

Copia watched in horror as he watched the black begin to crawl up Veritas’ limbs and torso as he panicked. Slowly but surely the man was pulled under the surface, the ooze covering up his mouth to muffle his cries, his hand reaching out as one last cry for salvation before it too disappeared under the surface and silence descended over the space. Goosebumps broke out over his skin as Lucifer came over to Copia, a small sad smile on his face. 

Without even a second thought and as tears trailed down his cheeks Copia felt his knees give out, fighting back a sob as the adrenaline slowly filtered out of his bloodstream. His hands tightened into fists, one coming to press against his mouth to hold in the cry that bubbled up his throat. Copia looked up at Lucifer, tears blurring his vision, and he bent down and kissed Lucifer’s shoes. 

“I-I cannot lose her, my Lord. I will not make it through this without her.” He whispered, unable to look up at the other man. 

“I know…” 

“Then please, I beg you to take me instead, let her live.” 

There was silence for a moment, Copia’s heart thundering in his chest as he waited for a response. There was a soft sigh, and Lucifer crouched down lower but Copia still refused to look at him. He felt a hand gently on his shoulder. 

“She’s been given a choice, she must make that herself. I cannot make it for her.” 

“What am I to do without her if she chooses to stay?” Copia mumbled, voice warbling as he felt more tears falling from his face. Gently, with two fingers under his chin, Lucifer tipped his chin up to make the cardinal look at him. He had a soft, warm smile on his face; comforting and gentle as he spoke. 

“You are worthy of love, Cardinal…from Sorella, from Alesandro, from me.” 

“Non capisco…” Copia started to say before Lucifer cut him off. 

“You bear the mark of devotion, yet you do not feel worthy of it. Why?” 

“I…” 

Copia felt his eyes overflowing with tears again, unsure where all his conflicting emotions were coming from. His heart was thundering like a stampede, almost painfully, in his ribs. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. 

“How can I be worthy of your blessing when I am not worthy of the position I am in. How can I be worthy to be Papa someday when I am an outsider to this place and will always be seen as one?” Copia couldn’t look at Lucifer, feeling pathetic as he whispered his response. 

“If I didn’t believe that you were worthy of ascension, I would not have guided the fates to bring you to this point…” Lucifer’s voice was soft as he took one of Copia’s hands and squeezed firmly, bringing the Cardinal’s shocked gaze to his dark and endless eyes. 

“W-what?” 

“When Primo found you as a boy, clinging to life, that was no accident.” 

Lucifer stood, hand slipping from Copia’s as he walked over towards where his lovers sat frozen in time. He watched as the other man pulled the blade from his beloved’s chest, a wet squelching sound making him gag on his own tongue. The Cardinal watched as Lucifer ran the blade across his palm and he gasped when the golden ichor began to drip from the wound. Slowly Lucifer ran his wound over Sorella’s wound, and he felt his eyes practically bulge out of his scull when the wound slowly knit closed. After a minute all that was left in its place was a thin golden scar. Lucifer had a look on his face that reminded Copia of one he’d seen on both his own and Terzo’s from time to time. It was a forlorn and bittersweet look as his master brushed the hair from her face, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her temple. 

 “She has chosen, our time is coming to a close I’m afraid.” Lucifer sighed, turning back to Copia as he stood. He took his outstretched hand almost apprehensive as he led him to where the last ghoul was standing. “I have had this little one in mind for you since your blessing, he has been waiting many years for you…”

Copia felt almost overcome with emotion yet again, his eyes prickling as he fought to keep the tears at bay. The ghoul was shorter than Copia and looked almost delicate, they had a small smile barely visible under his large mask. They bowed slightly at Copia’ as he moved to stand with him, Lucifer’s face warm and clearly approving of the exchange. 

“This is Rain, he happens to be a water ghoul.” He chuckled, a blush painting Copia’s face. “A good fit, yes? A calming presence in a family full of fire ghouls…”

“My Lord…” Copia couldn’t help but start to plead with him but he startled as Lucifer held a hand up to stop him before speaking himself.

“I will hear none of it, Cardinal. You have worked hard, you have protected my flock, you have been my loyal servant since the beginning. You have earned this.”

Copia turned to Rain, his heart thundering, and he realized that the headache was gone. Looking at the little, shy ghoul he felt like his heart was going to explode. In fact…Copia felt like he finally belonged, like he finally met a goal set on hims ages ago. His bottom lip wobbled slightly, overcome with emotion suddenly and Copia had to hold back from hugging Rain tightly to him when he felt the small ghoul wordlessly, gently place his hand on his hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“Keep her safe, Cardinal, she is rare and fully devoted to you two…” Lucifer’s voice pulled him from his overrun emotions. Copia looked up to the smug face of his master, a slight blush on his cheeks.

“I will, I swear my lord.” 

“I hope you’ve always wanted a lot of children, Francessco.” Lucifer chuckled as he placed his hand on Copia’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. 

“W-what?”

[mlmxreader]

The Valley of Death | John Price x trans!m!reader

anonymous asked: So the first one I wanted to request for john price x pakitani!ftm reader where they are married and reader is from pakistan army and reader ignores one of john's orders even though they still complete the mission john wouldn't talk to the reader with the prompt "You disobeyed direct orders!" and "C'mon, talk to me"

Hope this is okay :)

-🦝

summary: Price is far from happy when you disobey an order, but at least you have a good reason why you did it.

tws: war, guns and gun violence, swearing, bombings, arguing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Bullets had your name on them as they came crashing through the air, a vicious melody tearing through your ears as you ducked behind a rock for cover, hoping that it would last long enough; your orders, from your own damn husband, were to fall back and to retreat, but you would do no such thing. You couldn't.

Behind you, tanks and mortars were shaking the ground, hunting and preying on both man and machine; to your left, planes kicked up a storm made of fire as they dropped bombs that left the land cold and scarred; to your right, grenades battered the land harshly. In front of you, the jaws of death waited with an open mouthed and toothy grin.

You could only think that this must have been how it felt to be a soldier at Doiran in nineteen seventeen. Falling back and retreating was not an option.

In that moment, it truly was kill or be killed. A lost battalion belonging to the ranks of Pakistan, surrounded by death at every turn with no escape; how could you be expected to obey the order to fall back and retreat, when just by doing so, you would cause your men to die?

To fall back and retreat was to walk straight into the depths of death, and know that you wouldn't return. Chaos and turmoil at the front, the men beside you scared and shaking as they kept close; it wasn't every man for himself, you were friends, you were brothers.

Every man for himself was a callous and cruel belief. Captain Price would be fucking livid when he found out that you disobeyed his orders, no doubt in your mind that he would chew you out for it when you got home, but you had no other choice.

You could not obey orders that put your men at risk. You didn't care if they came from your own husband, you couldn't obey orders that would end up with your men as meat for the slaughter.

"Sir!" One of them barked, eyes filled with worry as they choked on their own fear. "What the fuck do we do?!"

You put your hand on his shoulder to calm him down slightly, to let him know that you were there as you sighed. "We're gonna have to wait for evac, Corporal - hopefully the one four one will come back for us."

Corporal Thapa swallowed thickly, shaking his head as he pressed himself into your side; you could feel him trembling against you as you slowly put your arm around him, keeping him close. It was the best thing that you could do. Lambs for the slaughter. You couldn't stomach the thought.

These were your men, these were the men you had trained with and had been beside since your days as a private in the Pakistan army; these were the men who, when you told them that you were trans, welcomed you with open arms like they had done a thousand times before. These were your men, your brothers.

You had to protect them as best you could. You had to convince them that help was on the way and that there would be no issues, you just had to be strong and wait for them to get you all. You had to guide them.

The lost battalion, Pakistan's pride, and you were trapped between four great gnashing jaws of death that barked your names and demanded you draw in closer; you held Thapa a little closer, begging and pleasing with Allah that someone would come soon, that someone would take you all home.

Allah must have been listening, as the evac team didn't waste any time getting to you and dragging you all back to base; you learned from them that the mission had been successful, and also that Captain Price was far from pleased with your actions. The actions that had saved your men. But while your boys were sent off to be checked over by doctors and nurses, you were escorted to Price's office.

The second you walked in, you knew he was absolutely furious with you; his hands firmly planted on the desk, fingers splayed and shoulders tight with tension, jaw clenched and his eyes glaring holes into your very soul as he hunched over slightly. The door closed, and suddenly you wished that you were on the battlefield, instead.

He didn't talk to you, didn't say anything except glare at you, pinning you to the spot with those pretty blue eyes; he really was absolutely furious.

"John," you said slowly, standing on the opposite side of the desk and putting your hands between his. The desk was cool to the touch. "Don't do this."

He said nothing. You had seen him angry before, seen him throw chairs and kick doors, seen him shout and bawl until his voice went hoarse and his eyes welled with tears; you had seen him slam things and throw them around, kicking and yelling. But this wasn't angry. This was the type of rage that made even you think twice about poking the bear with a sharp stick.

You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze as you cleared your throat. "John."

He still said nothing, breath harsh yet quiet. Staring you down. You had never seen him lose his temper like that before, never seen him so filled with rage and animosity that he could not speak; but you were going to stand your ground. You did what was best for your men, even if that had meant disobeying his orders.

"C'mon, talk to me," you told him. "Please?"

"You disobeyed," he growled, hardly audible. "You fucking disobeyed me."

You took a step back, shaking your head. "I did what was best for my men."

Price scoffed, swiping a hand down his face. "You disobeyed direct orders! Orders I fucking gave you!"

His voice was booming, a harsh crack of thunder that made you flinch slightly; things like that always did make you flinch when you were fresh from the battlefield, and you hated yourself for it. Price didn't move.

"Disobeyed you?" You took another step back. "Those were my men out there!"

"I told you to fall back!" He argued. "I fucking told you, point blank, to retreat!"

"If we'd have retreated, my men would be dead!" You spat.

"And if we hadn't gotten the evac teams out there in time, you'd be fucking dead!" He slammed his hand on the table. "Or did you forget that?! Did you forget that you're my husband?! That I fucking care about you?! Did you not think, for a fucking second, that that order was to save you?!"

"I don't need saving!" You got in his face, hands planted firmly on the desk once more as you growled at him. "I do not need you to save me."

Price clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth, "if you break, I fix you. You're my fucking husband - I should be looking after you."

"I don't need it," you hissed. "I've been in the Pakistan army for years, John, don't you dare try to fucking pull that saving nonsense on me now."

"Fucking come here," he grabbed you, roughly coaxing you onto the desk before he stood between your legs, his knuckles white as he gripped your shirt tightly and pulled you in for a harsh kiss.

You kissed back, lacing one hand in his hair, the other on his shoulder as you eagerly allowed him to take control; it was messy and sloppy, uncalculated and filled with desperation, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. He bit at your bottom lip when he broke the kiss.

"Don't do that again," Price warned lowly. "Don't you ever disobey me again."

[starrystevie]

if you ask steve about god, he won’t know what to say. he’ll think back to days of wearing stuffy suits that sit heavily on his little body, the way his feet don’t hit the ground as he swings his legs in a pew. the way the pastor would drone on and on as steve played with his mother’s fingers just to give him something to focus on. he’d think about the red light that would stream in through stained glass windows as if it was the blood of christ itself and the way it would wash over his face when he’d kneel down for communion. 

god was church, god was sunday morning, god was hunger pains and scratchy polyester and burning words wrapped in silk that brand their way into steve’s memory. god meant showing face to his parents’ friends who would talk about salvation over their weekly donation to rid themselves of their guilt and self-loathing. tithings of bloody dollars that would go towards building houses in countries steve had never heard of all so they could feel better about their own miserable lives. 

it wasn’t until he was older that the words the pastor spun made any sense to him, words that were too big for a sunday school vocabulary becoming common place and growing around his heart like vines on a once loved home. things of damnation and abomination that he’d find inside himself, desires and sin that he’d push down into the darkness that even stained glass sunshine couldn’t get to. he could pinpoint hypocrisy but went along with it because his father expected him to and wasn’t that just the kicker? pitting father against father in a holy war of who to obey. 

but if there was one thing about steve, it was that he could grow. he was malleable and observant and ever curious, the proverbial hand outstretched to grab the forbidden fruit. he had questions that would never be answered, he had ideas that would never have evidence, he had a longing to make right what he had wronged and wasn’t that what god would have wanted? he let his own son perish on a cross to allow steve that chance and by god he was going to take it.

if you ask eddie about god, he will have too much to say. he didn’t grow up in two piece suits on a historical pew on sundays, he had crooked crosses in yards and bibles in motel rooms with dollars between the pages and saying grace before supper. he had a father who swore at the same god he prayed to and a mother who used his name like a curse. he had brimstone and anger and sweat rolling down the round red face of a preacher as he held his hands to the sky. he had fingers wagging in his face damning him to an eternity of hades flames if he wasn’t careful.

his father buzzed his head after eddie’s eyes wandered just once to that bright shiny apple that he knew he shouldn’t have even thought about tasting. the lord works in mysterious ways and gave him a sin with big green eyes and a toothy grin, short cropped hair instead of long curls. he had been told that he’d go to hell if he didn’t cut that damn hair ever since he decided to grow it out and it was almost funny how true it felt when the clippers came too close to his scalp.

he grew disdain for the idea of a god early on because goddamnit, he was was as angry as that preacher man was. eddie was a ball of rage, a flash of burning holy wings falling from the sky, misunderstood and tossed aside. he learned to curse the way his parents did and pray to the same ghost in the sky in the same breath wondering why. if he was real, why was he was stuck in the life he had? the hardest battles for the strongest soldiers, that’s what his granny would say as she turned a blind eye to his own black ones. 

hawkins, he had thought, would be eden in a trailer park. a fresh start with new people and cold air freezing his newly shorn head like a lamb. but there he met the same believers, the same rhetoric, only this time it was subtle. it was eyes sliding over him and downturned lips and furrowed eyebrows that told him he was unwelcome. if there was a god, he was cruel and he was vindictive and he was no better than the devil that people swore by. 

but steve and eddie, they learned about monsters and creatures that were under their feet all along. they fought like angels with big mighty wings and swords and spears against relentless demons. they fought for themselves, for each other, for the sins that felt heavy in their chests and left them with matching scars. when it was all over, and eddie lay praying to a god who had been silent to at least make it quick, steve was muttering prayers of his own to not let them fail, to not take his family from him. 

it felt like a wicked full circle when he looked down to see eddie’s body, bites torn out of him shining red with fresh spilt blood, and thought that it was like a crucifixion of their own. steve was back in a pew in a too scratchy suit, playing with his mother’s fingers, prepared to take communion with the body and blood of someone he wanted to know but never really would.

[wifeofwolfman]

some rambling:

apparently more than one person as initially mistaken the flamingo leopard puppet for a costume. which is not something i expected and really amuses me. it makes me think i should make a tiny, uncanny fursuit puppet and photograph it in such a way that it looks full size, real, but wrong.

i've been branching out into stranger anatomy, i would love to keep getting weirder. i had the idea to needlefelt a lion, a lamb and... uhhh a jesus, and then tear them all up and combine them all into some sort of twisted biblical The Thing monster, a being of conflicted, almost lycanthropic nature, torn between humanity and divinity.

The Last Temptation of Christ is basically a queer biblical horror movie and Willem Dafoe's psychologically/supernaturally haunted take on Jesus (who kisses dudes a lot in a sort of platonic way but also really goddamn gay way) hasn't left my brain. thank you Martin Scorsese now i have to make a symbolic gay furry body horror Jesus about it because of u.

i've recently watched a lot of David Cronenberg and Shinya Tsukamoto movies and it makes me wanna try my hand at bio mechanical fusion designs. maybe motorcycle centaurs and living leather car interiors. it would be so much fun to try kitbashing and combine toy vehicles and mechs with felted elements. i made a note that is just "camera chimera" and i can't remember if i meant a creature that's part camera or a chimera made of different cameras but either would be fascinating.

my recent felted puppets have been a (extremely fulfilling) distraction from my main project, Gorehounds of Love (or Homolupus or Murdermorphosis... it's collecting titles) a needlefelted stop motion werewolf short film. with it, i wanna juggle surreal romance scenes with gory horror scenes. it stars borzoi and irish wolfhound werewolves. i've been procrastinating on it to make stuff like the toothy werewolf and leopard flamingo! which is work i'm so so proud of but it's compounding my procrastination problem cuz i wanna make shorts about the new creatures too. i've been brainstorming for a short about the flamingo leopard. i might incorporate the toothy werewolf into Gorehounds of Love as a side story... i think she sees via taste and texture... i think she should have a girlfriend who is a werewolf thing with many eyes. lots of possibilities. <3<3<3

[hells-bellls]

Aces High; Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: Eddie graduates and gets the hell out of Hawkins. Reader and Eddie both meet at an Iron Maiden concert in 87. 

Warnings: smut, spanking, unprotected sex, drug use (reader and eddie get stoned together)

You were weaving through the thick crowd of people, trying to make your way closer to the stage for a better view. So far it wasn’t working out well. People were pushing through and blocking you off. Assholes. Clutching your beer tightly in your hands, you ducked through a few people only to be shoved forward and face first into a denim clad back. Just like that your overpriced drink is gone, spilt down some poor strangers back. Fuck.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I really didn’t mean that, some jerk pushed me...” You rattle off, your words dying on your lips when the stranger turns around.

Holy shit.

The recipient of your spilt beer is everything your teenage self would have madly lusted over. Tall, doe eyed, tattooed and long hair past his shoulders. Your father would have hated him. You on the other hand are turning to complete mush under his gaze.

“No, its totally fine.” He’s smiling down at you as he shrugs. “I kinda wanted to be completely drenched anyways.”

You have to remind yourself to speak. “I’m sorry about your jacket.”

“Eh, not your fault. There are so many assholes getting around. I practically had to fist fight everyone here to get a good spot.”

You let out a laugh and it’s embarrassing how high pitched it is. Jesus Christ.

The stranger’s eyes wander over you appraisingly. Is he checking you out? You can feel your cheeks burning.

“I’m Y/N.” You blurt.

The stranger takes an exaggerated bow. “Eddie Munson. You trying to get through to your friends?”  

Right. You got ditched. Your friend had stood you up last minute. It’s just not my thing, she had told you. Whatever. You had worked your ass off, done double shifts for those tickets and there was no way you were going to miss out.  

“No, my friend bailed last minute so I’m here by myself.”

He shoots you a toothy grin. “Well, I’m solo tonight too. You want to join my party?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll allow it. Can’t have you getting around like some lost lamb. But only if you promise to let me jump on your shoulders for a better view.”

Having someone to hang with would be nice and Eddie seems like he’d keep you entertained. Plus there’s something warm about him, like he’s the type to take someone under his wing.  

“Of course,” You joke back, “It’s the least I can do after spilling beer all over you.”

The rest of the concert is epic.

Aces High blares across the stadium, so loud can barely hear Eddie, and the energy of the crowd is unreal. It’s way better then you could have imagined. Definitely beats watching it on television.

Eddie steadies you a few times when the crowd gets too wild and surges forward. You’re both practically pressed together side by side like sardines. His ringed fingers brush your hands a few times, sending chills through your body.

Eddie is head banging and mimicking a guitar solo. You can’t help but smile at how goofy he is.

“Shit, this is so good I could cream my pants.” Eddie yells. Your thankful no one else can hear him over the music. You shake your head, trying to hold back laughter.  

“You been to any other concerts before?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, nothing like this. They had a few shitty bands back home, but never anything like this. This is legendary.”

Eddie’s eyes are glued to the stage, and you can see how much he’s living for this moment. He’s pumped, completely in his element. His enthusiasm is contagious and soon enough you’re dancing and jumping alongside him. You forget that Eddie Munson is a complete stranger- some random- it feels like you’ve known him forever.

Soon enough the stadium lights are lit up, prompting the crowd to clear out, and the band is walking off stage. Your throat is sore from screaming and you know your feet are going to kill at work tomorrow.

“Best concert ever!” Eddie proclaims and you have to agree.  It takes a while to push through the crowd and get outside. Eddie, ever the gentleman, guides you every step of the way.  

The car park comes into view and your stomach sinks as you realize that this is goodbye.  You can feel your high slowly slipping away.

Eddie looks unsure too, like he doesn’t want the night to end.

“Hey, so did you- uh did you need a ride home tonight?” His voice is hopeful. You’re so glad your friend pulled out last minute and you caught a cab over.

Your mother would scold you for agreeing. Lecture you about serial killers. But you’re completely under Eddie’s spell. “Yeah, sure. I’d love that.”

Eddie grins and reaches his hand out for yours. You take it and follow him through the carpark. The air is colder outside and his hand is warm in yours.

“And here she is, my noble stead.” Eddie grins proudly, smacking the bonnet. “Now she may look a bit rough, but this baby has carried me into battle many times.”

He’s right. The van is old and rough to look at.

The inside of the van is no better. It smells like your teenage brother’s bedroom. And you’re pretty sure you can smell weed lingering on the interior. Eddie hastily moves all the junk from the passenger seat to make room for you. Cassette tapes are sprawled across the dashboard, nearly all your favourite bands.   A Dungeons & Dragons bobble head stares back at you. There’s an X-rated magazine wedged between the seats, and he practically flings it into the back of the van. You try not to laugh when he mumbles an embarrassed apology.  You get the hint Eddie doesn’t have a lot of girls in his van.

You climb up into your seat and pretend not to notice Eddie looking when your skirt rides higher up your thighs. Good. Your glad you went with the short leather skirt and band tee tonight.

On the ride home you both rave on about your favourite bands, how metal is clearly the superior music genre. Your friends never understood the hype around it, but with Eddie it’s something you both enjoy and could go on for hours about. He plays guitar, you say he’s full of shit and he promises to play for you one day.

Eddie tells you about Hawkins, some small town in Indiana, how he’s so glad he finally got out. He misses his uncle and friends though, especially some kid named Dustin. He’s my like my protégé, he says proudly.

Listening to his stories you realize Eddie Munson is like no one else you have ever met. And he is the biggest dork. You try to imagine him playing Dungeons and Dragons with a bunch of high school kids.

You tell him that you recently graduated too, class of 86. You’re still not sure where you’re going to college yet. Eddie tells you he barely graduated and he’s not sure if he wants to apply, he’s happy travelling in his van and working at whatever bar he can find in the meantime. Like a rolling stone.

“You know, you’re like the first decent person I’ve met so far.” He glances over you, and you flush under his gaze. “I mean the guys I work with are alright but you, you’re pretty cool.”

You feel the butterflies stirring in your stomach. Eddie Munson thinks you’re cool.

The van pulls into your street. The trip home felt way too quick.

Maybe its because you’re still buzzed from the concert or maybe its from Eddie but you’re feeling brave.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Everyone knows what that means. You hope Eddie knows what that means.

You hadn’t missed the quick glances Eddie would sneak in your direction on the way home or the way he smiled when he watched you drone on about Iron Maiden. He was checking you out.  

Eddie eye’s widen and he clears his throat, nods his head, trying to play it cool. “Sure, that would be uh- be cool.”

Cool.

You lead him up the stairs and into your small apartment. First thing you did after graduating was get your own place. It was some old studio you had found in the paper. It wasn’t very big and the water pressure was shit, probably why it was so cheap. You didn’t care though, it was perfect for you.  

“I have bourbon or…no just bourbon. I could have sworn there was vodka somewhere.” You say, searching the cabinets. Eddie is sitting on the sofa, not quite sure what to do.

“Bourbons fine.” He says. “Do you mind if I light a joint in here?”

“Go for it.”

“You smoke the devil’s lettuce?”

You join him on the sofa with your drinks and watch as puffs on the joint. “Once in high school. My best friend and I got busted underneath the bleachers. My dad found out and threatened to send me to some all-girls Catholic boarding school. Scared the absolute shit out of me.”

Eddie laughs at that. “I spent the majority of high school stoned. Probably why I didn’t learn much. You want a try?”

Your dad can’t send you off anymore. “Sure.” You take the joint and bring it to your lips. Eddie’s lips had been there only a second ago.

“Now remember, you need to breathe in and hold it for a bit. Don’t just suck-”

Too late.

You inhale too sharply, and the smoke stings your throat. You’re coughing your guts up and Eddie is patting your back trying to stop you from choking. How embarrassing. He passes you the glass of bourbon and you’re quick to finish it off.

Eddie’s howling with laughter. Clutching at his belly like its hurting him to laugh so much. You shoot him a glare.

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Glad my pain could give you some entertainment.” Reaching for the bottle of bourbon, you pour yourself another glass to get rid of the taste.

The night passes quickly after that. The apartment smells like weed and you and Eddie are laughing way too much. It feels so good.

Lightheaded and tipsy, you’re both sprawled out across the carpet, hands intertwined. Eddie’s raving on about bats, how its just his luck he got bats tattooed to him. You’re not really listening though. All you can think about is how warm his hand is in yours, how close you both are. You’re not even sure how it happened.

You pull your hand away and roll onto your side to face him. Eddie frowns at the loss of contact.

“You good, Y/N? Tell me you’re not going to puke everywhere, because I don’t think I can-”

You shut him up with a kiss. His lips are much softer than you thought. Eddie’s hand is on your cheek, his lips are moving slowly against yours. It’s gentle and sweet. You feel like melting under his touch.

Eddie slips his thigh between yours, pressed directly against your panties. Thank God you’re wearing a skirt. You moan at the contact and grind against his thigh, leaving a wet patch against his jeans.  

Your hands seem to have a mind of their own and you find them slipping underneath Eddie’s Hellfire shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath. Your fingers brush over his ribs and up to his chest. You tug on the collar of his shirt and Eddie obliges you, breaking away from you to throw the shirt aside. You take the moment to rid yourself of your tee and skirt too.

Eddie’s skin is pale and there’s a patch of dark hair across his chest. You can’t help but notice the small, jagged marks on his skin.  You avert you gaze when he notices, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“A bat tried to kill me.” He explains. What the fuck?

You try to ask him what he means but his mouth is back on yours, hungry and rougher this time. You weave your hands through his hair, bringing him closer. Warmth spreads through your body. Eddie’s chest is flush against yours;  your nipples harden underneath him from the pressure. You can feel the hard bulge through his jeans and grind your hips into his.  

Eddie palms your breast through the lacey bra, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. He shoves the material to the side and covers the bud with his hot mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. You arch into his touch and grip his shoulders hard, needing to feel all of him against you.

Eddie’s hand has slipped between your thighs now, tracing his fingers over your panties. “Shit, Y/N, so wet already.”

The soft cotton of your panties is gone, pulled down your legs, and replaced with Eddie’s long, slender fingers. They circle your clit, rubbing and stroking. You let out the most embarrassing whine. Eddie smirks and drags his finger down your slick folds, dipping into your entrance. Then another. The pace of his fingers is slow and every time you buck your hips into his hand he goes slower.

“Be patient, baby.”

As if you could.

He’s peppering your neck with kisses, fingers curled inside of you, brushing against that sweet spot. He works your pussy so well. You definitely believe that he plays guitar now.

It doesn’t take long for you to come undone from his fingers. You grip his shoulders and buck wildly into his hand. He sucks his fingers clean after that.

“Turn around.”

You’re more then happy to comply. You turn over onto all fours and arch you back slowly, giving him the perfect view of your wet pussy and round ass.

“Fuck.” He swears, taking in a sharp breath. You look back to see him with his hand wrapped around his cock, giving it a jerk- eyes glued to your pussy, completely dazed.

“You like that, Eddie.” You say teasingly and wriggle your ass back for him.

The most delicious sound escapes Eddie’s lips.

“Fuck yeah.”

His hands are on your hips, and he pulls you hard back against his cock. Long fingers are back between the folds of your heat now, slipping over your clit and spreading the slickness over your entrance. The coolness of his rings rubs against you. Eddie adjusts himself and pushes into you slowly.

It’s like instant relief. You both moan when he’s fully inside of you. He gives you a moment to adjust to his thickness before he begins to thrust into you with a slow pace.  

“Feels so good. You feel so good inside me, Eddie.”

Praise seems to encourage him and he’s thrusting into you faster, gripping you tight against him.

You move back against him, keeping up with his rhythm. He stills for a moment, watching you roll your hips back and fuck his cock. It’s driving him insane.

“So fucking hot.” He says.

Eddie’s palm makes contact with the fatty skin of your ass. You don’t expect to like it but a moan slips from your legs and you’re begging him to do it again. Once, twice and a third time. Each slap is harder then the other and you know you’re going to have bruises in the morning.

His hand slips underneath you and glides his fingers against your wet folds. Rolling your clit between his finger and pinching.  You buck your hips back against him, feeling your stomach tighten and your climax building up.  

Eddie is thrusting into you. Nails digging tight into the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you from behind. His thumb rubs against the bundle of nerves and you know you’re done for. You climax hits you and you grind back hard against Eddie’s cock, hitting that sweet spot inside of you. Eddie doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you any time to rest after your orgasm. Not while your clenched so tight around him.  

With one hand firmly holding onto your hips he glides his hand up your back and to the nape of your neck. He fists a handful of your hair and you arch back against him.

“G-gonna, cum. Fuck, Y/N. Can I cum in you, baby?” His voice is ragged and broken. His hands are grasping at your hips desperately now, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Yes, Eddie. Cum all in me.”

That’s all it takes. He thrusts once more and you can feel the warm stickiness dripping down your thighs. Eddie’s grip isn’t as tight anymore and he slumps against you, chest breathing heavy. It’s a minute before he recovers from his release and pulls out of you. He falls back on the carpet and pulls you along with him to his chest.

Your body feels like jelly and you nestle into his side, both of you sweaty and sticky. Eddie wraps your arm over your waist and traces his fingers over the skin of your belly.

“That was…” He’s still breathless.

“Fucking hot.” You finish. Eddie laughs and places a sloppy kiss against your head.

“Fucking hot indeed.”

There was no way you were going into work tomorrow. 

[verratensduo]

"I may have to kill you," Reiner's lips curled back into a snarl while he finished binding Eren's legs and arms. The shifter's marks still fizzled from the efforts of their confrontation. "You sure do know how to put up a fight," he mused darkly, seemingly enjoying the adrenaline provided by this kidnapping. Reiner's icy gaze now settled on Eren's neck before roughly janking him by his shirt. His ragged breath panted against Eren's skin while pulling him even closer to himself. "Keep it up little lamb chop. You have worked up quite an appetite." To emphasise his point, Reiner flashed a toothy grin before brushing his teeth against Eren's skin. He lingered for a few seconds before pulling back and shoved Eren away with a chuckle. "No. But you'll do well to remember, I do not need you alive."

Eren grunted as Reiner grabbed him up like this. Being tied so aggressively, maybe trying to resist this abduction had been a bad idea. He tensed up when Reiner lifted his entire body up. He shivered a little as Reiner did that and started to cry after he finished. Message received loud and clear. “Ye-Hess si-hur!” He could only manage to talk through some sobs at this bleak situation.