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kyumisyumi · 4 months

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Tentacles and Tendrils

Shaking off the rust and giving monster smut(writing in general) a shot again.

Prompt: monster partner is in rut/heat and the partner has to deal with it

Rating: 18+

Monster type: M!Merfolk x F!Reader

Word count: 6k

~Taking requests~

You stare out at the unending, blue horizon. The cool ocean breeze preparing you for the temperatures of its water as you linger along the edge. You wore the company certified diving gear: a wetsuit, mask, BCD, the works. A spear weighed down one hand while a cylindrical container weighed on your shoulder. Hope and pessimism fought to be at the forefront of your mind as you scan the empty waters with heavy disappointment. This area was always relatively vacant, but not too far off you can spot a duo entering the water with matching gear. Their actions take you out of your haze, and with another gauge check you finally approach the water. Getting a feel for the sea's surge, you make your way in. And with practiced hands you slipped on your fins before turning to greet the seas with outstretched arms.

Beneath the blue your body instantly goes into autopilot. Swimming was as natural as walking and these seas might as well have been a second home; a wayward beauty that will switch it's mood at a moments notice but home nonetheless. You took it all in, familiar as it may be, the ocean never stopped being a sight to behold. A world beneath our own full of wonderful blues, outstretched greens and terrifying blacks. The current had a bit of force behind it but nothing near the cruelty you knew any large body of water could deal. Your darting eyes couldn't help but search around, scanning everywhere for even just a hint of... There! You moved with haste. As much as you could as a land dwelling animal in aquatic terrain. You didn't get far before the shape you eagerly chased revealed itself to be just a particularly thick and unruly swatch of seaweed. You sigh internally before resolving to begin your original task.

Nearing a gorgeous station of coral, you couldn't help but linger and watch the busyness. Schools of varicolored, itty bitty fish swimming through the equally colorful pseudo-flora. Despite your love for marine life, you never quite learnt the names of all the little guys much less how to differentiate between them, say for a handful that stick out. Your interest was usually for the larger lifeforms mother nature had to offer; you smiled as you watched a wary grey eel eye you with suspicion. Soon your eyes fell upon your reason for being here. It's bright red colors were slightly muted by the depths, with white tiger stripes outlined by black to break up the pattern. Its form was lined with spines and frills that flowed and fluttered with each graceful swish of it's body; an absolutely gorgeous creature. You readied your spear. The black strap trigger pressed into your skin as you carefully aimed, hoping not to hit anything but the target. It helped that the lionfish lingered in one spot before you speared it. You moved to put it in the container before opting to offer it to the eel you saw earlier. As gorgeous - and delicious - as they were, these guys were invasive here and the effects of their persistence was a constant strain to the native wildlife. They seemed highly concentrated around this sandy patch of substrate, driftwood and dead coral. It didn't take long after the first few kills for one of your friends to make their way over. Gently, you caressed the top of the nurse shark eyeing your spare eagerly, this one you named Lisa... or maybe it was Madeline. It was no surprise your face blindness extended to animals as well, even the cute ones that made your dives feel a little less lonely. The creature began gliding and swirling around you. You liked to believe the fondness was mutual but it was equally likely they were just in it for a meal. You speared another lionfish and offered it to the grey and white cutie.

The spot you were in. The shark. The scenario. It brought back the memory of the first time you saw him.

Back then you were collecting lionfish, same as now with a duo of nurse sharks tailing your every movement. At the time you were overly cautious, so you'd sit in one place, removing the venomous spines of the fish before handing them over. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, he'd been there for quite a while, watching you. From his position partially behind the rocks, you'd think he was hiding -or rather, on the defensive- but you just can't imagine something that big and powerful hiding from tiny 'ol you. Yes you had a spear but you doubt it would do you much good if he decided to attack. Merfolk. Given your job at the Aquatic Wildlife Center you were relatively familiar with them. Your company was more than welcoming when programs were made for them- as well as the other species- who showed interest in coexisting during the realm migration. The Merfolk you were familiar with, however, had to undergo numerous lessons on etiquette and culture to live among humans. The one near you now... The word 'feral' came to mind. You didn't quite like using such an animalistic term towards something that looked a little too human, someone that you knew had equivalent intelligence. His skin was primarily muted greens with a burst of parchment white down his chest and undersides of his arms. Unlike the fish tails merfolk were known for, this one's body ended in a myriad of tentacles, not unlike an octopus. Height wasn't exactly something you could measure but in terms of body mass he was more than twice your own. He seemed to tense any time you held direct eye contact so you settled on keeping him in your peripheral and keeping your movements slow and measured. You're not sure what he wanted but if he was content to just watch you, you didn't mind.

The next time you went out for a dive he'd made another appearance, this time resting on the rocks instead of behind them. Looking at the way his tentacles gently swayed against the current, you realise the way they'd writhed restlessly the day before may have been a sign of anxiety. It tickled you that somehow, in his mind, you were a threat to be worried about. You'd never even been in a proper fight. His relaxed demeanor gave you a bit of courage and you contemplated offering him one of the lionfish but ultimately chose not to. Doing so would feel as though you were treating him like an animal at the petting zoo. Then again, he was watching you like an animal at a regular zoo, keeping his distance as if he thought you'd lash out at any opportunity. You focused on the task at hand. Either the sharks had developed more patience or they were full from yesterday, this time they seemed more interested in dawdling around and getting pets than playing Russian roulette with your spear. You'd gotten into a rhythm of pull, aim, release as you moved slowly across the sandy substrate with him never too far behind.

On the third day he was almost as close as the sharks were. There was still a respectful distance but you'd only have to reach out your hand to touch him. Despite your determination to hold strong as he approached there was a hint of fear in your eyes when he first got closer. He wasn't threatening but the size difference was all to blatant up close, his chest so broad and arms so thick you didn't doubt they could snap you in half like an oatmeal cookie. In response he seemed to try to make himself look smaller, drifting at a lower level so that his head wasn't much higher than yours. This gave you a good look at his features, he had round pupils unlike the rectangular slits you associated with octopi, his sclera was a light grey and his irises a saffron yellow on downturned eyes. He didn't seem to have any patchwork of iridescent scales like your work colleagues. His eyes aside, everything about his face was sharp, from the hooked nose to the prominent chin and brow bone. As curious as you were, you tried not to look any lower than the slits along his neck; gills, in case your gaze made him uncomfortable. You briefly wondered if he'd try to say something once he got closer but he didn't, he just looked back with a gesture you interpreted as 'continue'. So you did.

There actually weren't anymore lionfish nearby so you decided to take a moment to clip the spines of the one on your spear, hoping to feed it to Joel the eel... or maybe this was Geoffrey. He took this lull in your movement as an opportunity to interact. You stared wide eyed as his hands reached out. It looked as though he was going to reach for your spear but thought better of it and reached out for your free hand instead. He took your smaller hand into his much larger ones. He inspected each finger, pulling them apart and tracing the curve in between, where his held a thin membrane. He ran a thumb over your blunt nails, where his held thick black claw. His movements were slow - cautious - and you get the feeling that it was more for your benefit than his. Wary as you were, you were equally enthused to learn more of the man... fish... octopus being before you. He inspected the sleeve of your wetsuit, running his fingers over the material. When it seemed like he was going to pinch the fabric between two claws you tugged your hand away, shaking your head in hopes the gesture was universal. Thankfully he understood. He then circled you to take in the rest of your form, a possible sign he understood touching anywhere else on your body might be unwelcomed.

Unsurprisingly, he took particular interest in your legs, watching the way they swayed to keep you afloat. He didn't touch you yet you somehow felt pressure over every inch his eyes laid upon. Was this how your coworker felt during those awkward introductory meetings where there would always be one person asking to touch their fins. The memory made you giggle and the merman suddenly shifted his focus from your legs to your face. Your breath caught as his eyes focused on yours, it was mesmerizing how they looked as fluid as the ocean; the colors swaying as the black center zeroed in on you. For a moment you wondered what did you look like through those eyes. He raised a hand to rest his knuckles against your cheek. His gaze then lowered to your lips. Your body -so ready to flee when he first approached- now froze. No matter how much you tried to reinforce that his actions were of innocent curiosity you couldn't stop thinking they weren't. Or maybe you just hoped they weren't. Oh dear. Before you could figure out where your head was at, he pressed a thumb against your lips. There was a subtle shift in his features as he stared at you intently. A question? Was he asking to kiss you? Your heart sprinted. He wanted to kiss you... and you- you were actually considering it. You must be insane; yes you thought he was gorgeous in a unnatural -captivating- way but you weren't going to kiss a creature you haven't known for more than a few hours. You hadn't even exchanged words with him. Words... Oh! That was it! You would've face palmed if your hands weren't occupied. He wished to speak, and prior knowledge reminded you that merfolk could adapt a language through lip contact. Well, that cleared your brain a bit. If that's the case surely you could spare your lips for a moment. It wouldn't have to be long, just the slightest peck was enough. A fraction of a second. He was patiently awaiting your answer, somewhat pulling back as if to tell you 'no' was a more than acceptable answer. With a tad more hesitation you finally nodded. You pulled out your mouth pieces, angling it downwards to prevent excess air loss. Trying to show some initiative you moved closer but you just couldn't bring yourself to close the kiss. Graciously he did and your lips met. Your rushing blood brought heat straight to your cheeks. It was such a minute amount of contact but your body responded as if he was already tongue deep inside. You felt... something. Like faint streams of electricity that moved from the corners of your lips to the center before vanishing. You figured it was the magic at work, now would be the time to move away but your body and brain can't seem to get on the same page. Or maybe they were on the same page and the voice telling you to move away was something foreign, something unwanted. You opened your eyes to see his, half lidded but looking at you with an intensity that couldn't be misconstrued. Neither of you wanted to break the contact. You're not sure where the confidence came from but just as you moved to press closer to him, your lungs reminded you where you were. They called for oxygen. It took more effort than you would like to admit to pull away from him and return your regulator to your mouth. You looked back at him to see his fingers pressed against his mouth, eyes swirling with mixed emotions. Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you but you swear he licked his lips. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he moved his lips as if testing the motions.

"Can you understand me?"

You nodded in the affirmative. And by Gods, the smile on his face could outshine the sun on a clear summer morning.

This opened up the pathway to your budding friendship. Underwater, you couldn't have full conversations but with the barrage of questions he had there was hardly a need to speak. It especially amused you that he had to confirm that you were indeed human. Do humans walk everywhere? Do we forms pods? Do we dream? Do humans fly was a weird one to answer under the limitations. It was an eye opener to the fact that you were as alien to him as he you.

At some point you remembered that you were on a timer and though there wasn't really a quota, resurfacing with only four lionfish would definitely not look good for you. You went back to spearing, trying to be quick while he asked about this and that. It only got better when you finally resurfaced. You perched on the old abandoned dock, it was barely more than a couple planks of wood hanging on for dear life. You were especially glad that this area remained as vacant as when you left so you didn't have to worry about worried/wondering gazes at the two of you.

Unfortunately diving was only something you could do 2 maybe 3 times a week, it was essentially a freebie session offered to break up the office work you dread. Still, even after you clocked out, you'd take a stroll to that same dock where he'd be waiting beneath the surface. You learnt that, though most merfolk would declare otherwise, his species wasn't rare. Just distant and reclusive. The only reason he was close enough to the shore to spot me was because he seeked a precious stone to complete a trade. Based on his description you believed it was Larimar or Blue calcite, which you may have in your personal collection. When you asked why he decided to approach you, his answer was a sideways glance and a shrug before quickly changing the subject. There were moments, you noticed, when he'd rest his arms along the wooden planks and caress your overhanging legs. The movements were slow and feather light, almost absent minded. It made your mind fuzzy, you wished to just close your eyes and focus on nothing but the feel of his skin against yours. Occasionally, he would gently rake a claw over your soft skin and you'd try your best not to trip over your words. In return, you'd run your fingers over the mix of tentacles and tendrils that sprouted from his head- similar to hair. The prehensile limbs would wrap around your fingers. The gestures were unmistakably intimate but neither of you spoke against it. Amongst the many questions and conversations would be these moments of content silence, these you treasured most. His hands on you, your hands on his, as you both enjoyed the world around you and each other.

Now those memories fill you with a hollow feeling in your chest. It's been almost a week with no sign of him. What had you expected, really? He has a life down below that he has to attend to after all. Even you have missed a day or two. What if he's hurt? The question gnawed at you many times these past few days; you despised the small part of you that preferred that outcome over having been left behind. But then the idea that somewhere down there he was facing unknown perils that you'd have no means to help him with would solidify in your mind. No, you'd rather the hurt of having been abandoned. Summoning your mental fortitude, you aimed to focus on the task at hand before you accidentally harm one of the sharks by being distracted. There was a new face this time... at least you thought they were new. They nuzzled your body as if sensing your distress and to your delight; it helped

Seconds dragged into minutes then hours before it was time for you to get out. You wished you could say you were strong enough to just go but instead you swam around for a bit; hoping. Praying. But there was nothing around except you, the water and your pitiful heartache.

Above land you safely shed the equipment. The smart thing to do would be to go home as soon as possible. To finish your day, change your clothes and curl up in blankets while playing some video games. However, you've always been a creature of habit so instead you sat at the old dock. Alone. The sun was so warm but the winds were relentless, they licked at your skin as if trying to shoo you away. Maybe this was Poseidon's way of telling you to get over it. It's not like there was anything between the two of you. You'd only known him for a handful of weeks after all, that's barely enough time to form a friendship much less... As if shutting down the thought, your brain replayed a memory of him pressing his face against the palm of your hand with pure bliss etched into his features. As if your touch alone could push away all his problems. Then there was the time you touched your forehead to his during a momentary spur of boldness. The look he gave you spoke so loud in the silence. You would've kissed him then if not for your shyness winning out. That was one of the last moments you'd shared before his disappearance. A treasure in your heart that now caused you pain. Packing up your things, you got up to leave, however something clutched your ankle. Something, rather, someone you recognized all too well.

You gasped violently as you were dragged down. Thank goodness you did because it was all the air you'd get to take with you in your rapid decent below. He shifted so instead of being pulled by his tentacles, you were fastened to his side by a firm arm. He stared straight forward as he swam, allowing you only to see the tendrils whipping around the back of his head. You could hardly process how fast you were going down the bottomless blue. The water shifted from a bright, comfortimg azure to ultramarine as you went deeper and deeper. Your panic rose the further he swam, which did your lungs no good. Was he trying to drown you!? You couldn't call out, couldn't scream so you tugged and pulled at his thick, unyielding arm, trying desperately to get him to stop. He turned to you then, there was a look of pained and haunted thoughts scribed into his face. The lovely grey of his sclera had darkened into a soulless black making the yellows of his eyes that more vibrant, almost glowing in the waters inky depth. The word 'feral' again came to mind as he blinked his second eyelids. He looked at you and looked at you and looked even more. As though his eyes processed one thing but his brain was stuck on something else. It took a moment but he finally said your name. Not said, growled it. His usually velvety deep voice was now strained through gravel. He pulled you closer to him and buried his face in your hair, your heart would be fluttering were it not currently banging in your chest wondering where the hell was the oxygen it ordered. You tried, you really did, to struggle against his hold. Hoping he'd wake up from whatever spell he was under and bring you back to solid ground. Hell, you'd make an attempt to swim for it, knowing how futile it would be. But once his long tongue was on your throat you became putty in his arms. You feel three distinct fingers rake against the other side of your neck as he nipped at you. You can't tell if your breath hitched or your lungs made another vain attempt to reach for air. You raised a trembling hand, trying to alert him to your situation but he seemed solely focused on tasting your skin.

"Breathe." He spoke in-between licks, his tongue venturing down to your clavicle, and you wondered if he'd actually gone mad. His hooded eyes met yours and he repeated the word.

It didn't matter anymore, the choice was no longer yours. You had held onto that final breath for dear life but it was time for that life to come to an end. A stream of bubbles left your horrified lips as you now fought not to breath in; that was a far shorter battle. You inhaled, preparing for the sting of water invading your airways in it's rush to your desperate lungs. For your body to heave and cough as the waters reminded you you were not it's friend but a guest who had overstayed their welcome. Would your body float up to be picked at by birds or sink to be fodder for the sea floor scavengers? You waited and waited. But... It never came. You, somehow, were breathing air. Opening your eyes in confusion, you looked around to see if you were suddenly back on land, if all this was some dream or hallucination spurred on by your guilt and heartbreak but no. You were still surrounded by the open seas and all it's inhabitants. Your breaths felt slightly strained but you weren't going to complain about life saving miracles. Especially when a giant tentacled man was tracing his finger down your spine. Now that your life was no longer at risk(mostly) you calmly rest your palm against his head, trying again to get answers out of him. He stilled, dissolving into your touch as he had many times before. You saw a bit of clarity in his eyes before he closed them.

"I'm sorry." He said after a moment, his voice was lustful and strained, like a warning sign dipped in want and desire. "It started; my heat. I tried to stay as far away as I could but when all sense had escaped my mind the only thing left were thoughts of you." He pulled you closer, his eyes remained closed as if one look at you would break the little control he had. "I thought I had overcome it when I began searching for... Methods for you to survive beneath the waters. But the moment I had my answers it overtook me. It possessed me. It still does. I want you...desperately but only if you'll have me."

You listened to his words, in confusion then understanding. Then you actually understood! Oh! Suddenly your body had forgotten all it's woes, focusing on your core instead. He wanted you. You bit your lip in thought, noticing that the water couldn't pass some unseen threshold of your mouth. You wanted him, you couldn't even pretend to deny that but... Was there a 'but'? You searched your tainted mind for excuses but your brain and your body were again in unison, the only outlier was you. You slid your hand up his face and caressed a cranial tendril, he opened his eyes and you felt his body vibrate. Purring.

You didn't have the courage to look him in the eye when you spoke. "I will." You consented.

He was on you instantly. His lips crashed into yours with reckless need. There was no slow build up, no questioning nor tentative tongue touches. His tongue snaked pass your lips and devoured you in kind. His large hands ran down either sides of your body, meeting when they both grabbed at your ass. There they lingered, kneading your flesh through the stretchy materiel, before one devious hand ventured even lower. You felt him slide a finger along the fabric covering your sex. Back and forth, his finger glided creating a nice little friction that almost touched your eager clit. Your hips moved on their own, seeking the contact. You craved more of his touch and suddenly the thin, synthetic rubber was a dense barrier. As if hearing your thoughts, there was the slightest pinch against the crook of your behind before a sudden coldness seeped in. You could feel him carefully swipe his claw to just above your clit, creating a opening in the fabric. The new sensation of cold wetness against you warm sex made you gasp but it was soon replaced by the warmth of his... hand? No, the texture was far different. Before you had a chance to investigate, the feeling of suction against your clit gave you all the answers you needed. Something between a gasp and a moan left your lips, the sound must've pleased him greatly because he tore himself away from your mouth to look into your eyes. The limb covered your whole sex, with the tip lightly teasing your entrance but it was that one suction cup upon your clit that was really putting in the work. It took a rhythm that was brain meltingly pleasant against the sensitive bud, thoroughly teased by his phantom touches prior. A sudden surge of pleasure began to build causing you to reflexively try to squeeze your thighs together. However, the action was impeded by two tentacles quickly wrapping around your legs to keep them parted. They squeezed as if to reaffirm their hold on you. He took your chin in his hand and watched you intensely as you came undone from the stimulation. His grip was light but unyielding when you tried to turn away. Closing your eyes would lead to him stopping completely until they fluttered open again to meet his. He would take in every dip in your throat, every curve in your lips, every crease beneath your eyes and flush upon your cheeks. He wouldn't miss a moment of your first orgasm at his hands. His gaze was dizzying, as if whatever possessed him was now reaching out for you. Having him inspect you with such cold fondness only made the experience that more salacious. The rising tide of pleasure finally crashed and you were left a buzzing, panting mess. With a look of gratification he released your chin, wrapping his arms around you once more to knit your body to his.

"You're so beautiful." He cooed before trailing off into words of his own language.

You didn't get a moment to say anything back before you felt something probe against your opening. One of his tentacles slid inside you fully, welcomed and aided by the slick lube of your still pulsing walls. You shuddered in his arms, thankful for the support. It was a comfortable fit and suddenly you're reminded that it's been ages since anyone has had you like this. It made the experience slightly more alien atop the fact that you were being intimate with a lust driven sea-beast. Rather than the expected thrusting, the appendage grazed along your insides. It twisted and pushed as if getting a feel for you, learning you before pulling back out. The sudden emptiness made you whimper, you looked at him, ready to beg if need be but it didn't come to that. You felt your entrance being prodded again. It was the familiar tip of a tentacle, ready to enter you once more. However, the more it pushed, the wider it got; so very much wider. And Gods, it held a bumpy texture that was absent before. Just as your mind went hazy you realised it was two of them, wrapped around each other. It finally gave you the thrusting motion you desired, it's ribbed texture grazing parts of you that remained untouched for too long. Your movements were limited but you attempted to grind against each wonderful thrust, moaning your delight with feather light whispers. This was all too good, soft and pliable enough that it writhed inside you but firm enough to press against your hungry womb.

Despite all senses seemingly being focused on your trembling hole you felt something press against your stomach, forcing it's way into the tiny space between your body and his. You peek downward to see the spearheaded tip of what you assumed was his cock. Suddenly, his preparation of your cunt made sense, you'd expected him to be big but geez. It was identical in color to his body, darkening at the tip in a similar fashion to his fingers. It throbbed and twitched as he began to grind against you. Even with two tentacles stretching your insides, your greedy eyes craved the feel of it. Craved the connection to him. You reached down and grasped it at the base, shock almost pulling you out of your haze when it wrapped around your hand. It tightened as if begging for more of your touch. You acquiesced and began running you hands up and down his massive length, taking great pleasure in the way his body vibrated with resonating groans. His thrusts inside you growing wilder, taking you further and further and you were determined to take him with you. His voice held a softer, pleading tone as it goaded you on, praising you between strained hisses. His cock swelled and hardened, his words devolving into senseless mumbles. The limbs inside you became more erratic as his pleasure grew. His grip on your body tightening to the point of leaving small tears in your suit and nicks in your skin. He released a long animalistic huff as he coated your arm in slimy white fluid, your body responded by coating his tentacles with your own. You rest your head against his chest, moving in time with his heavy breaths, counting them as you both recovered. You're not sure when he began moving you but suddenly you were face to face. He kissed you. Slowly. Gently. Tasting and savoring you.

"Do you think you could take me, my treasure, or do I need to stretch that greedy hole of yours even more?" He asked between kisses.

Words were beyond your tired brain so you just nodded. As spent as your body was, this moment would not feel complete until he was inside you. Slowly, as if moving you too much too quickly could break you, he turned you around so that your back was pressed against his chest. He snaked his hands around you -he really did seem to love having his arms on you-, one hand moving to grope your breast while the other traced a line down your stomach to caress your mound. You feel his lower half angle itself to bring his leaking member to your slick opening. Oh so slowly you feel him slide into you, spreading you wider with each inch. You couldn't help but try to squirm against him but his hands held you steady. He was only half way in when your body began to show resistance. He started pulling out slowly and thrusting into you, getting a little bit further each time.

"You're being so good for me." He whispered just above your ear, his voice held a lovely cadence. Singsong; as if haunted by a melody that compelled his body to move.

You couldn't hear it but you felt it, it rang through your body with each sway of your hips and out your lips with each whine. Down to the way he held you, like an instrument to be adored. Every moan a crescendo and every voice stopping bite at your neck a diminuendo. He was playing you and you were loving every moment of it. In and out, in and out like he was timing bars on sheet music. That was up until the flat, tapered tip hit the deepest part of you; he'd hilted. Then everything stopped. Fermata. You're only warning for what was to come were the tentacles that slithered around your legs to ground you. You hardly even felt him pull out, just the force as he thrust fully into you. The sound that left your mouth was a guttural whine of shock and pain. He kept going. Slamming. Pounding. Taking your body over and over. It hurt and yet you desired more. He fucked you like he was craving this moment his whole life. Your body eased and the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure, never quite leaving but become something more. Something better. Something wholy obscene. Your body was an inferno in the cold, dark water. Pleasure overtook you; you no longer felt like a person, just a mass of emotions and senses. You could hear his grunts and growls behind you, the sounds he made were truly animalistic. Wild. Primal. Savage. As though he couldn't fathom being anything but a creature of vulgarity. Couldn't fathom doing anything but driving himself into you. Desired nothing more in the world than to fill the emptiest parts of you. Your walls tightened around him, as if intending to learn every bulge and vein of his cock. Pulling and sucking him in with no desire to let him go, that was where all your strength went. You felt the recognizable build of another orgasm and judging by way his pliable member was now a hardened monolith, he wasn't far off. He no longer needed to lead, you danced with him as you both came together. His seed seeped out of him, filling every bit of (nonexistent)space inside of you before oozing out. He continued to thrust, making sure you milked his cock for everything he had. It's throbbing was like a heartbeat inside you.

You collapsed against him, laying your head flat against his chest, your cheek barely touching the flesh above his heart. After a moment you looked up to see him already staring down at you, the affection in his eyes fueled your already thrumming heart. A moment of tenderness as the tainted waters surrounding you both whisked your indecencies away. His sclera lightened to their usual soft grey. An eagerness popped up on his face as he seemingly wanted to ask you something then but thought better of it. A somber look taking over his features instead. Using what little strength remained in your body, you turned fully to him. He immediately took your head in both his hands and rest his forehead against yours.

"I- Did i hurt you?"

"Did-" You gave him a droll look. "Did you hurt me??" You flicked his head. Well, you tried but there was less than no force behind your fingers. "Of course you did. Lucky for you I enjoyed it."

"I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "If you would allow for a 'next time'."

"There better be."

"And a time after that?"

"Don't push your luck, ocean boy."

You felt him smile against you. It may have been an innocent one but you couldn't help but wonder if he was already plotting.

He took you above land after that and you thanked the Gods above that your towel and pack was still waiting for you. At least you could walk(limp) to the company building without catching a charge for indecent exposure. He watched you from his usual spot on the dock. His downturned eyes hooded by his lashes had him looking like a distraught child watching their best friend board a plane to unknown lands. Did he think he scared you away? That you'd never return? Maybe as a bit of revenge you'd let him believe it.

((You also had to deal with the urge to sink into the floor at the knowing and amused looks on your merfolk coworker's face every time they saw the marks on your neck D:))

#monster boy #monster lover #monsterfucker #merfolk #monster x human #monster romance #monster smut #teratophillia #exophelia #kyumiwrites #monster writing #tentacles #tentaclesandtendrils

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estapa-edwards · 25 days

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i miss you, im sorry -- J.HUGHES

paring: jack hughes x fem! reader

word count: 2.15k

requested? yes - could you do this prompt for “I never thought I could miss someone this much” for a guy of your choosing? :)

warnings: use of y/n.

Y/N had always been close friends with Luke Hughes. Their bond was unbreakable, forged through years of shared experiences, secrets, and laughter. When Luke invited Y/N to spend a summer at his family's lake house, she eagerly accepted.

As Y/N stepped out of Luke's car, she was immediately captivated by the serene beauty of the place. The air was filled with the scent of fresh pine and the sound of water gently lapping against the shore.

"Welcome to my favorite place in the world," Luke said with a smile, grabbing Y/N's bags from the trunk.

Y/N couldn't help but smile back, feeling grateful for the opportunity to spend time with her best friend and his family in such a picturesque setting. She was about to meet Luke's parents, Ellen and Jim Hughes, and she wanted to make a good impression. Luke had assured her that his parents were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached, and the kitchen door swung open. In walked Ellen Hughes, a graceful woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. Following closely behind her was Jim Hughes, a tall man with a friendly demeanor and a strong resemblance to Luke.

"Good morning, Y/N," Ellen greeted, her voice cheerful and welcoming. "It's so nice to finally meet you. Luke has told us so much about you."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Hughes," Y/N replied, standing up to shake their hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Thank you for having me."

"Please, call us Ellen and Jim," Ellen said, her smile widening. "We're thrilled to have you here with us."

Jim nodded in agreement, extending a hand to Y/N. "It's great to meet the young woman who's been such a good friend to our Luke." Y/N felt herself relaxing, reassured by their warm welcome. They all sat down at the table, and Ellen began serving breakfast.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the lake as Y/N decided to take a leisurely walk along the shoreline. Dressed in a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, she slipped on her sandals and stepped out of the cabin, breathing in the fresh, pine-scented air.

Meanwhile, Jack had decided to spend the afternoon fishing on the opposite side of the lake. He packed his fishing gear, grabbed a hat to shield his eyes from the sun, and headed out towards his favorite fishing spot.

As Y/N strolled along the lakeside path, enjoying the peaceful surroundings and the gentle rustling of the leaves, she was lost in her thoughts. She didn't notice the figure approaching from the other direction until it was almost too late.

Jack, engrossed in untangling his fishing line, also failed to see where he was going. The next moment, they collided, both letting out a surprised gasp as they stumbled back.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"No, it's my fault. I should have been paying more attention," Jack replied, looking up and meeting Y/N's eyes. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, captivated by Jack's warm, brown eyes and his disarming smile. She found herself smiling back, her initial embarrassment giving way to a sense of curiosity and excitement. I'm Jack," he introduced himself, extending a hand towards her.

"I'm Y/N," she replied, shaking his hand and feeling a tingling sensation run up her arm.

"Yeah, Luke's friend, right?" Jack said, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Yes, that's right," Y/N confirmed, her smile widening.

"I've heard a lot about you," Jack added, his tone warm and inviting.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a rush of excitement. "Really? That's nice to hear," she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly.

As the summer went on, Y/N and Jack found themselves drawn to each other more and more.

One evening, Y/N, Jack, Luke, and Quinn decided to have a movie night at the lake house. They gathered in the cozy living room, blankets and pillows strewn about, popcorn bowls at the ready, and the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable, filled with anticipation for a fun and enjoyable evening together.

"I think we should watch a classic like 'The Godfather' or 'Casablanca'," Luke suggested, walking over to the couch. "You can't beat the classics!"

Quinn, on the other hand, had a different idea. "How about 'Superbad' or 'Step Brothers'? We could all use a good laugh," he argued, trying to sway the group with his comedic choices.

Y/N, wanting to watch something more romantic and light-hearted, chimed in, "I was thinking more along the lines of 'The Notebook' or 'Pride and Prejudice'. Something romantic and uplifting would be nice."

Jack, wanting to watch an action-packed thriller, added his own suggestion to the mix. "What about like 'Inception' or 'The Dark Knight'?

As the debate continued, the room grew tense and the voices louder. Each person passionately defended their movie choice, and it became clear that a compromise would not be easily reached.

"Why does it always have to be your choice, Luke?" Quinn argued, rolling his eyes. "Not everyone wants to watch a black and white movie from the 1940s!"

"Well, not everyone wants to watch some mindless comedy that's only good for cheap laughs," Luke retorted, his frustration evident.

Y/N tried to mediate, suggesting a compromise. "How about we take turns picking the movie? That way, everyone gets a chance to watch something they like."

Jack, however, was not satisfied with the suggestion. "That's not fair," he protested

"Jack, it is fair," Y/N responded, her voice firm and assertive. "But since I'm the guest, I choose the movie."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Y/N grinned and announced her decision, "We're watching 'Dirty Dancing'!"

She laughed at the collective groan of disappointment that echoed through the room

As the opening credits of "Dirty Dancing" rolled on the screen, filling the room with the iconic music that everyone knew and loved, the tension from the earlier argument began to fade away. The group settled in, each finding a comfortable spot on the couch with blankets and pillows, ready to enjoy the movie.

As the movie progressed, Jack found himself increasingly drawn to Y/N. The familiar storyline and romantic dance scenes seemed to create a perfect backdrop for a blossoming connection. Subtly, he began to inch closer to her, shifting his position on the couch to close the distance between them.

At first, Y/N didn't think much of it, attributing Jack's movement to the shifting dynamics of the group as they got more comfortable. However, as she felt his arm brush against hers and noticed him subtly closing the gap between them, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

Y/N's hand rested in her lap, and she could feel Jack's fingers slightly grazing it as he moved closer. The gentle touch sent a thrill through her, and she became increasingly aware of his presence beside her. The warmth of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne, and the tantalizing sensation of his fingers brushing against her hand were all intoxicating.

A few nights later, Y/N and Jack decided to go out for a night at a local bar near the lake house. The atmosphere was lively, with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking glasses filling the air. The dim lighting and rustic décor created a cozy and inviting ambiance, making it the perfect spot for a relaxed evening out.

As the evening progressed, Y/N and Jack found themselves enjoying each other's company, laughing and chatting over drinks. The connection between them was undeniable, and the chemistry was palpable.

However, as the night wore on, a group of guys at the bar began to take notice of Y/N. One of them, a tall and confident-looking man, approached Y/N with a smug grin on his face.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said, leaning in a little too close for comfort. "How about a drink?"

Y/N, feeling uncomfortable but trying to remain polite, declined his offer. "No, thank you. I'm here with someone."

Ignoring her response, the man continued to press, his persistence becoming increasingly annoying. "Come on, don't be like that. You don't want to spend the night with this guy, do you?" he said, nodding towards Jack with a dismissive smirk.

Jack, who had been watching the exchange with growing irritation, felt his patience wearing thin. He didn't appreciate the man's disrespectful attitude towards Y/N, and he wasn't about to let it slide.

Stepping in between Y/N and the persistent suitor, Jack glared at the man, his voice dripping with warning. "She said she's not interested. Back off." The man, clearly not used to being challenged, scoffed at Jack. "Who do you think you are?" he retorted, puffing out his chest in a display of bravado.

Without another word, the situation escalated quickly. Jack, fueled by a mix of protective instinct and annoyance, threw a punch, and a brief scuffle ensued. The bar's security quickly intervened, breaking up the altercation and escorting the instigator and his friends out of the bar.

Breathing heavily, Jack turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with a mix of adrenaline and concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with regret for letting things get out of hand. I'm okay," she reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Upon arriving back at the lake house, Y/N led Jack to the bathroom to clean up the small cuts and bruises on his face from the fight. The dim light in the bathroom cast a soft glow, illuminating the concern in Y/N's eyes as she gently examined Jack's face.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Y/N said softly, her voice filled with care and tenderness.

Jack nodded, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as Y/N wet a washcloth with warm water and began to gently dab at the cuts and abrasions on his face. Her touch was gentle and soothing, and Jack found himself relaxing under her tender care.

Y/N's hands were gentle and careful as she cleaned the small cuts, her fingers tracing the contours of his face with a delicate touch. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, and the closeness between them was undeniable.

Jack watched Y/N as she focused on cleaning his wounds, her expression one of genuine concern and care. He was touched by her kindness and the tenderness of her touch, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence and the comfort she provided.

As Y/N finished cleaning up the last of the cuts, she looked up at Jack, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of concern and affection. "There, all done," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

"Thank you," Jack responded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him.

Seizing the moment, Jack leaned in closer to Y/N, his eyes searching hers for a sign of acceptance. The atmosphere in the bathroom was charged with tension and unspoken feelings, the intimacy of the moment palpable.

Y/N's heart raced as she felt Jack's closeness, her breath catching in her throat as she anticipated his next move. The connection between them was undeniable, and the magnetic pull was too strong to resist.

Closing the distance between them, Jack pressed his lips gently against Y/N's, their kiss tender and full of emotion. Time seemed to stand still as they shared a moment of intimacy and connection, the world around them fading away as they lost themselves in each other.

"Y/N, we are ready to board the plane," a voice called out, pulling Y/N out of her daydream.

She blinked, her thoughts still lingering on the summer she had spent with Jack at the lake house. The memories were vivid and bittersweet, a reminder of the deep connection they had shared and the love that had blossomed between them. "Y/N, we are ready to board the plane," a voice called out, pulling Y/N out of her daydream.

Y/N settled into her airplane seat, staring out of the window as the world below became smaller and smaller. The memories of the summer with Jack continued to flood her mind, and a deep sense of longing and nostalgia washed over her.

"I never knew I could miss somebody this much," Y/N thought to herself, her heart aching with the realization. She went to put her phone on airplane mode, when she saw a text from jack. “I miss you.”

i might do a part two!!

#jack hughes #nhl x reader #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #Spotify

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une-femme-de-lettres · 1 year

Text

Imagine

Sewing and mending your clothes after a mission

This is highly specific and detailed but I love the idea. Also domestic 141 is the best thing!!

Laying low after a mission is definitely not the best part of your job. You often times find yourself stuck in an old safe house with your teammates, sharing a small space with them, while not knowing when you’ll be able to go back on the field.

But there surely is one thing that these days can offer you, is some time to think, process the things you’ve seen and get some rest. And as you are forced to figuratively mend and repair your mind, you often take advantage of the peace and quiet to literally mend and repair your equipment; clothes, gear, tools or weapons… anything that could’ve been damaged during your latest intervention.

The whole habitation is quiet as you make your way to the living area. Your teammates are there. Price is watching some obscure documentary about the fishing industry in South America on the telly, the sound brought to a minimum. Soap is mindlessly doodling in his journal, not looking particularly satisfied with his work. Gaz is taking a nap slouched on the couch beside Price, he’s probably tried watching the documentary, didn’t work out too well…

And Ghost is quietly cleaning his pistol, methodically clearing every little piece of any gunk, grime and leftover powder. The clicking of the metal pieces give a rhythm to the silence. You hate to interrupt such a peaceful picture so you speak quietly.

“Hey,” you start, a few eyes moving over to look at you, “I’m gonna take some time to sew up a few things. Got anything that needs mending?” you ask them.

“I’m good, thanks for the thought, though,” Price responds with a gentle smile that warms your heart a little. You nod and turn to Soap.

“I don’t think so, Lass, but thanks.” He can’t think of anything off the top of his head for now, so you finally look at Ghost. His back is slightly turned to you, you can see him looking back slightly and responding with a shrug.

He’s been way quieter around you lately, you noticed. But Ghost is Ghost, right? So you don’t really pay him any mind and give one last nod before going back into your room. On your way there, you don’t notice Price’s slight head movement directed towards Ghost. And behind the door of your room, you don’t hear the husky sigh Ghost let out as he stands up from his seat.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed as you silently pass your needle through the fabric of your torn tank top. It’s not major tear, nothing a quick stitching can’t fix. You’re focused in your task when a light knock on your door makes you look up.

Ghost is slowly entering your room, his gaze fleeing yours. As it often does lately. He speaks quietly, his voice still very composed, just like every time you’re working out there on the field, precise and efficient.

“Do you have a spare needle?” he asks. You notice the balaclava in his hand before he holds it out slightly in front of you. “I need to repair this,” he finishes. You look at him for a moment, trying to keep your thoughts at bay. He requesting your help with anything outside the field was not unheard of, but it was still pretty new… Why does he look so cute?

“Sure, there you go,” you respond, picking a small needle and some black thread in your tiny sewing kit. You hand the objects to him and he takes them with a grateful nod. He looks about to leave when he stops in his tracks, not sure if he should ask you.

“This is a knit fabric, I’m not sure how to…” he starts hesitantly, showing you the piece of clothing again, “go about it,” he concludes. You fight the small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and pat the empty space on the bed covers beside you.

“I’ll show you, if you want,” you say and he complies surprisingly quickly.

In your line of work, whether it be on skin or cloth, a man needs to learn out to sew. It’s a primordial skill when you’re in a survival situation, to keep your clothes functional. Ghost in an intelligent man, you realize he probably knows how to take care of his stuff beyond just keeping his guns working.

But even you find knit fabrics tricky to work with. One wrong stitch and the next time you use your item, it might very well run enough to render it unusable. And your heart flutters at the idea of him asking you for help, even for such a tiny little thing.

Ghost sits beside you, the mattress dipping ever so slightly, making you lean towards him just a little. He prepares his needle and thread while you put your own work aside. Once this is done, you locate the small hole in the balaclava he’s laid on his thigh to free his hands. You hand it back to him, pointing towards the repair area.

“First, you need to thread all the loops left open to stop it from running,” you indicate. The loops you’re mentioning are tiny, but precision is your job, so they’re all threaded very soon and you can begin the real work.

“Then you can thread through that and darn it just like a woven fabric,” you say, mimicking the technique moving your finger back and forth. He starts mending the piece, using your advice.

The needle looks comically small in his massive hand. The size of things makes his movements quite awkward. And it doesn’t help that he’s holding the needle with the very tip of his fingers, barely touching it, as if he were afraid to do something wrong.

You smile gently at the sight and decide to help him further. Your fingers brush against his as you move his hand so he can work pushing the needle towards himself instead of away. A technique you’d found way more efficient over the years.

“It’ll be easier if you hold it from this side,” you say, your voice quiet and thoughtful. The voice he loves to hear rolling off your tongue and lips when you are close to him. “Guide the needle with your index and thumb and push it with your middle finger,” you explain as he watches your hands working his fingers into position with a curious eye. “Like this.”

He starts using your latest advice, religiously following your movements as you mimic the gesture in the air. He manages to work faster, his hand steadier. You smile. His needle work starts taking shape. “Nice work,” you say, turning your head to look at his face. His eyes are looking straight back at you. For once in quite some time now, his gaze doesn’t dart away from yours. It just gently moves to your slightly parted lips and stays there for a moment. A moment that doesn’t last nearly long enough for him.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #ghost x reader #reader insert #imagine #soft ghost #fluff #task force 141 #domestic fluff

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short-honey-badger · 6 months

Text

Phantom Pain part 5

The Fishing Incident

First off! I am so so sorry it's been so long. I've got in a bit of a slump and struggled to get anything out. So I really hope you all enjoy this next part! Mostly fluff and some kissing!

Masterlist

@writingmysanity @foggyturtleknightangel @kenkenmaaa

Shanks ends up buying you one of the better fishing rods in the market, one strong and flexible enough to take the challenge of some of the bigger fish that make the Grand Line their home. He'd watched with a fond look as you gushed over the different reels, lines, and luers, and reminded you several times that price was not an issue. You left the market happy and excited to try your new gear, and that was all that mattered to Shanks.

The Yonko had expected you to run off right after the two of you had finished shopping, but instead you lingered outside the market and waited for him to pick out a couple of bottles of saki and rum. He could feel your nerves again and gave you a reassuring smile in return.

"Do you wanna come fishing with me?" You blurt out suddenly, and Shanks is already nodding his head before you can even finish your sentence. He'd do anything you wanted to do. However, the question also has guilt welling up inside of him. You furrow your brow at him, confused on why he would feel that way.

"I'd love to, Baby," Shanks tells you and then shakes his right side, causing the empty sleeve there to flop around, "But it's kinda hard to do with one arm."

You blink up at him, frown scrunching your face. Damn. Shanks makes a good point as much as you would rather not admit. You shuffle your feet before ultimately shrugging and aiming a shy smile up at your soul mate.

"You can just come sit with me, though, right?" You suggest softly. You don't really want to be alone, not when you could spend this down time with your soulmate. The longer you stay, the more you think that may you do belong with him, made to be by his side.

Shanks looks delighted, face softening into a gentle expression full of fondness. His side of the bond pulses like an exploding star, and you flush at the tsunami of feelings you feel from him. The Yonko snickers at your red face and then boops your nose, a new favorite thing of his to do.

"I wouldn't want to spend my time any other way, Seastar," he teases, and you roll your eyes at him with a huff before turning away. You shouldn't have expected anything less from him.

Eventually, the two of you find a nice secluded spot on the beach quite a ways down from the pier and small town. It's quiet and peaceful here, and you take the chance to dig your toes into the sand and just breathe in the salty air. You feel Shanks step behind you and tense for half a second when his arm wraps around your waist, but relax and let yourself lean against his strong chest. You feel safe and secure in knowing that nothing could ever harm you when your soul mate holds you so closely.

Shanks buries his face in your hair and breathes in, humming in joy when he feels you slump against him. He never wants to let you go and wonders how he had ever gone through so much of his life without you by his side. He kisses your hair, arm tightening around your waist as he scatters more kisses along the top of your head and then to your cheeks and brow when he gently turns you around.

You flush at the attention and then grab his loose shirt to tug him down for a real kiss. Shanks laughs against your lips, and you retaliate by nipping his bottom lip hard enough to hurt. He grunts and slips his hand into your hair so that he can better control the kiss, tongue sweeping into your mouth to plunder like a true pirate.

You break the passionate exchange with a gulp of air, and Shanks snickers again at your lack of stamina. His hand loosens in your hair and instead begins to stroke it lightly, "Thought you were supposed to be fishing?" He teases lightly.

You scoff at him, "It's not my fault you decided to distract me," You say with a smirk and the redhead looks at you with big puppy eyes, as if he had done no wrong. You raise your brow at him, not believing his puppy act for a second.

"Okayyy, fine," one of the most powerful men in the Grand Line whines, and you wonder how this became your life.

Shanks leaves and settles on a flat rock that also held your fishing equipment and his booze. He cracks open his bottle of saki and takes a deep swig before setting it aside. He expects you to grab your pole, but instead, you drop to your knees a couple of feet away from where the damp sand ends and begin to dig.

He furrows his brow at you from his seat, "What are you doing?" He asks curiously. Even before he lost his arm, Shanks hadn't been the biggest fan of fishing, so he was a little lost.

You laugh at him, and his heart seizes in his chest when you look up at him with a big grin. He can see where some sand is sticking to your face, and it just endears him more to you.

"Sometimes it takes a while for a fish to bite, and I just don't want to hold my pole for that long," you explain and then stand and dust yourself off when you deep your hole good enough, "Hence the hole."

You pick your way across the sand and settle on the rock beside Shanks. Your pole is soon lured up with a good sinker and a big chunk of bait attached to the hook. Shanks watches as you heft the pole and then walk almost chest deep into the ocean. He tenses at how far you go, but you look confident in what you are doing, so Shanks stays seated.

You cast your line as far as you can throw before wading back to shore and carefully lowering your pole into the hole. You come back to the rock and collect the small jar of shells you had made up earlier just for this purpose. You feel Shanks watching and deciding to explain to him, "I'll wrap my line around the jar. That way, when a fish hooks, I'll be able to hear it."

The Yonko makes a Huh sound and looks vaguely impressed with your small set you now have at the shore, "Well. Would you look at that? You made fishing even lazier," he teases when you sit beside him. Shanks gets shoved in the shoulder for that one, and he allows himself to be moved by your weak push.

"Shut up, I've got to save my strength for when I'm reeling it in," You inform him smartly and Shanks just laughs again and tugs you close so that you lean against his chest, he drops a kiss to your brow.

"You do have some noodle arms, Sweetheart," Shanks says, and you scoff in indignation. Here he is with only one arm, picking on you for being weak.

"Says you," you tease back and gesture at the empty sleeve that flops against his side.

Shanks promptly grabs you with his arm and lifts with ease, plopping you into his lap with a shit eating grin. His hand grips your hip to keep you from squirming away, and he leans in close enough that his hair tickles your nose, "What was that, Baby?" He murmured softly and your shiver at the feel of his breath against your ear.

You clutch at his shirt, feeling a bit off center being in his lap. This was new, but you weren't about to let your dark thoughts get the better of you, not when Shanks looked at you as if you were the only thing on the planet. His thumb strokes the skin of your waist, and you vaguely wonder when your shirt had ridden up enough to expose skin.

Shanks can't help himself anymore. He can feel your warring feelings, feel how much you want him, and how scared you still are of any kind of affection. You've worked hard for Shanks, and he loves you for it. He leans in and kisses you, lips soft for only a second before Shanks devours you, and you happily let him.

The two of you lose yourself within one another, lips smacking and teeth nipping. Heat pools in your lower stomach, and Shanks grips your hip hard enough that it may bruise, but you don't care. You don't want Shanks to stop kissing you.

That is until an annoying rattle startles you away from Shanks. You jerk your head and look, eyes bugging when you see your pole bending and the jar of shells shaking like crazy. You scramble off of his lap, untangling the jar and tossing it to the sand before you grab the pole and jerk it.

You grunt when you are yanked forward, feet kicking up sand as you struggle with the weight of the monster fish on your line. You are tugged forward again, and a yelp leaves your mouth when you almost eat sea water this time.

"Shanks!" You screech and grab the reel, cranking it twice as you fight against the fish, "Help me hold it!"

Shanks is there in a flash, back pressing against yours and hand gripping the pole as he helps you hold it steady. It's a fight even with his help, but the two of you eventually stand victorious over the wriggling fish. It's huge, long and silver with a mouth full of teeth.

"That...that is a big fish," you pant out, but you are grinning so wide that it hurts your face. You are proud of your catch.

Shanks matches your grin, feeling your elation over the bond. He slides close to you again, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, "Guess I can fish with you after all?" He comments and will forever treasure the delighted laugh and kiss that he receives.

#fanfic #reader insert #one piece #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #fluff #one piece live action #fishing #phantom pain

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malice-ov-mercy · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Nick Folio x fem!Reader

Content warnings: 18+!, fluff, smut, unprotected (p in v) sex, oral (female receiving)

A/N: more or less a second part to Shotgun. I have the thought in my head that Folio produces a lot of semen when he cums, so…. Do with that image and thought as you will cuz that was certainly in my head when writing.

Word count: 3k

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The air at the lake’s bank had been much cooler than you expected. You thought you would be fine with a normal t-shirt and jeans, but you quickly regretted it the further away you got from your camp. Nick told you to wear something warm, but you brushed off his advice. You felt guilty about taking his hoodie, but were so thankful for the warmth.

Nick stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you and closing his hands over yours. He smelled like the surrounding woods and weed. Subconsciously, you leaned back into him. His chuckle was warm against your ear. The beers he drank lingered on his breath. You were even more grateful he gave you his hoodie because you didn’t want him to notice the goosebumps—though you could have blamed it on the weather.

“Relaxing is good, but not too much.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “You don’t wanna be too stiff when you cast.”

“Like this?” You asked, awkwardly throwing the fishing line out.

“Hmm, almost. Here, reel it back and let me help you.”

You did as instructed, only hearing bits and pieces of what he said. It went in one ear and out the other. You had no clue what he was talking about. You didn’t want to learn how to fish, but it was an excuse to have him close to you.

There was no improvement in your technique when you threw the line out again. It only worsened. You felt your cheeks heat from embarrassment. You mumbled an apology. Nick kissed your temple.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re learning.”

“I don’t think this is the hobby for me, Nick.”

You angled your neck so you could look back at him. He smiled and kissed your cheek.

“Give it one more shot?”

You pouted at his persistence.

“Please? For me? I’ll even help.”

“Fine.” You grumbled.

Nick adjusted your fingers and hands, positioning them where he thought would be best. When he was satisfied, he placed his hands on yours. He helped you bring the line back, and with an easy flick of your wrist, you cast the line out. It felt smooth. You glanced back at Nick who had a big smile on his face.

“See?! I knew you could do it!”

He embraced you closer, squeezing you so tightly you could hardly breathe. You laughed—well, tried to anyway.

“Air, Nick please.” You managed to choke out.

“Oh sorry!” He apologized. You took a big breath when he released you.

“Can we head back soon? I’m getting really cold.”

A gust of wind breezed by. You shivered then cuddled back into Nick for warmth. He pecked the top of your head.

“We can head back now if you want.”

Hand in hand, you walked back to your tent. You carried the now empty cooler in your other hand and Nick struggled to carry all the fishing gear in his. He refused to let go of your hand, telling you it was cold and he needed to be warm. You offered his hoodie back, but he refused that too.

“It looks better on you.”

He said it so easily. His brown eyes find yours with a smile. You blushed, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

“You’re cute when you blush.”

If you had a free hand, you would have tugged your hood over your entire face. Instead, all you could do was turn even more red and feel your heart flutter at Nick’s giggle. It was the cutest giggle. You loved it.

“I like when you giggle. It’s cute.”

This time Nick turned red. He looked away from you, suddenly finding the trees and bushes very interesting. A tiny smirk pulled at your lips.

—————

The smell of the campfire lingered in the air. It burned out long ago. You missed its warmth and the soft crackling and the flickering orange hue it cast on Nick. Somehow in the lowlight his smile shone brighter. His eyes glowed like perfect little orbs of amber. He looked so pretty in the fire’s light. It made you swoon.

Still wrapped in the comfort of his hoodie, you snuggled closer to him. The steady, calm beat of his heart was the only thing you heard. Nightfall hadn’t been as chilly as you expected but the chill still nipped at your bare legs even under the covers. The chill didn’t seem to bother Nick in the slightest, opting to strip to only his boxers. He was always so warm anyway; right now, he was like your own personal space heater. Your legs were tangled together. Nick toyed with one of the strings on his hoodie while you lazily traced a finger over the trout on his chest.

Blissful. That’s what this was.

You closed your eyes and focused on his breathing and heart—serene and strong. It almost lulled you to sleep. Your mind wondered for a while, about nothing and everything. You thought about when you first met Nick, how endearingly annoying he was. If you didn’t think he was so cute, you never would’ve entertained his awkward small talk. The first time he played the drums for you and immediately tried teaching you—only to get the same miserable results as your attempt at fishing. When he first excitedly introduced you to his friends—they incessantly and relentlessly teased him. You never saw him so flustered than when trying to explain that you were “just a friend.” The very first time you smoked with him and how awful it was. You swore you’d never do it again only to do it again the very next day and the day after that.

Then your thoughts fell to that night outside his house, and the way he looked at you. How he unashamedly stared, blatantly raking his eyes all over your body. It was like he was trying to undress you. He’d never called you any kind of pet name before that night. He’d mostly certainly never kissed you or touched you. You still vividly remembered the way his fingers worked you over. If you focused hard enough, you could still taste him.

You craved another night like that again—only you wanted more. You wouldn’t say you were in love with him, but maybe you could say you were in the process. You wanted him wholly, everything Nick could offer. His heart, his body, his mind and soul. Everything that made him, him.

Only, you didn’t know how he felt and you were terrified of broaching the subject. Since that night, things had been different. Nick’s hugs lingered a little longer and were a little tighter. You found yourselves sitting closer together. There were more soft touches and caresses. He held your hand all the time. Even his friends noticed the shift in your dynamic. And then today—how he so easily kissed your cheek and temple without thinking. You knew there was something happening. You knew Nick felt something, you just didn’t know how strong the feeling was.

You stopped your lackadaisical drawing and wrapped your arms around him tightly, like you were afraid he’d float away if you let go. You needed to tell him. At the very least, you need him to know how you felt.

As if he was reading your mind, Nick spoke, breaking you from the spell of your thoughts.

“Everything all right?”

His voice was low and gentle, tinged slightly with worry.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

He hummed. “Care to share what’s in that pretty head?”

You tightened your embrace. It’s now or never, you thought.

“You. And me.”

There was a beat of silence. Then movement. Nick untangled himself from you. You immediately missed the comfort of him beside you. He laid on his side and crooked his arm, propping his head on his fist.

“What about us?”

Us.

Your heart raced. A whole new set of questions strung in your mind. Was there an “us”? When did you become an “us”? Did he mean it in that way? Or was it just friends “us”?

“Is there an us?”

Panic surged through you the moment you asked, especially when Nick furrowed his brows and frowned deeply. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face then rested his palm on your cheek.

“I think there's an us, don’t you?”

The worry you had slowly started to melt away, but you were still unsure.

Nick reached for one of your hands and intertwined your fingers. He kissed the back of your hand.

“I don’t know what you’re comfortable calling this, but I’m comfortable with calling this us.”

Unable to find words, you pulled him on top of you and kissed him deeply, your hands cupping his jaw. He made a surprised sound but melted into your touch. His tongue slipped between your teeth with a sigh. You pulled him closer by his face. He rutted his hips into you, an erection already pressing against the confines of his boxers. You broke the kiss, hands flying to try and release his cock, but he swatted your hands away.

In one swift motion, Nick made quick work of his boxers, throwing them somewhere far away in the tent. You gazed at his naked body, soaking in the sight in all its glory. Nick didn’t allow you to look long before he was back at your lips. He kept teasing your center, making deliberate motions so his dick brushed against you. He tried moving his mouth to your neck, but the hoodie made it difficult.

“I need this off you,” Nick tugged at the hem of his hoodie, “and this.” He slid his hand down to grab your clothed, aching, wet pussy.

You sat up enough to pull the hoodie over your head, the chill of the air nipping at your skin. Nick was immediately at your neck, attacking it with little bites and kisses. You pressed your chest into his. He stopped his onslaught and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. Nick took his time removing the last remaining piece of clothing between you and him. Your breaths quickened and deepened when he finally pulled them past your ankles.

You laid before him, completely exposed in a way you never had been before. His eyes roamed your body, drinking in every ounce of you. It made you feel shy, vulnerable. Heat spread through your naked body. His gaze was searing hot. Despite how much you loved his greedy expression, you feebly tried to cover yourself—but Nick stopped you.

“Don’t.” His voice was soft, almost pleading.

He gently pushed one of your arms away and caressed the other. He bent down just enough so his lips came in contact with your wrist. Then he trailed kisses all the way up your arm, each one leaving you breathless. His lips ghosted across your collarbone.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” The words shot electricity straight into you. Nick caressed your breasts while he kissed all over your jaw. “Because you’re fucking gorgeous.”

His kisses down your body were light and soft, just barely there. If you weren’t watching him, you probably wouldn’t have noticed. He paid special close attention to the space just above your slit before moving to your inner thighs, covering the sensitive skin in little nips and licks. He moved his mouth back to your mound and delicately kissed your pussy.

“I’ve wanted to taste you right since that night on my patio.” Nick sighed, then dipped his tongue between your folds.

You arched, pushing yourself further into his mouth, gasping at his long, languid licks. He focused heavily on your clit, flicking and rolling his tongue all around. His tongue dipped further south, teasing around your entrance before plunging inside.

“You taste even better than I hoped.” He grunted, savoring the tangy taste. “I could stay here forever.”

You reached between your legs to push his hair from his face.

“You look so good down there.” You panted.

He sucked your clit between his lips, causing you to mewl and pull his hair.

“And you sound so pretty, sweetheart.” Nick husked.

You clamped your thighs around his head, keeping him locked in place as you came undone. Your fingers pulled at his hair. He didn’t let up, tongue still lapping greedily at everything you gave. He quickly brought you to another orgasm, screaming his name. If any other campers were around, they certainly would have heard you.

Nick wasted no crashing your lips together, giving you no time at all to catch your breath. The taste of you on his tongue sent a shiver through you. It sent your body into overdrive. You needed him inside. You lifted your hips in search of him. He moaned at the feeling of your pussy brushing against his cock. You did it again, drawing an even deeper and audible sound from him. When you did it a third time, he broke the kiss with a gasp.

“I didn’t bring condoms,” he said breathlessly. He grabbed his erection and pressed the head of his cock to your clit, gently rubbing against it. His eyes closed. “Definitely didn’t expect to need them.”

Nick’s jaw clenched. He continued to run the tip of his dick around your clit. Condoms be damned. You needed him—now.

“Do you trust yourself enough to pull out?”

His eyes opened, immediately falling to yours. The look he gave you was much like that night at his house. It made your pussy throb.

You reached down and grasped his hand, slowly moving it down, his dick following. You stopped at your entrance.

“I’m okay to keep going if you are.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just pull out.”

Nick searched your face. Conflictions pulled at his expression. You shifted, his tip poking where you wanted him most. With one final approving glance, he slowly slid inside, breathless gasps escaping you both.

His head came to rest in the crook of your neck when he bottomed out. You clung to him, arms wrapping under and over his shoulders. He didn’t move a muscle. He was rigid, like he was afraid to do anything.

“Nick?” You whispered. Goosebumps pricked his skin. “Are you okay?

“Yeah.” His voice was strained and hot.

“Look at me.”

Nick hesitated for a moment then obeyed. His face hovered over yours, the pure lust and adoration in his gaze seeped into your heart. You pursed your lips, silently asking him to kiss you. He captured your lips tenderly, stealing all the air from your lungs in the process. You snaked your hands around his body to hold his face. As much as you wanted to stay like this forever, you desperately needed him to move. You gently nudged his head away, giving him a soft smile.

“I trust you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he started moving. His strokes were long and deep, filling you entirely. He dropped his head to yours, giving your jaw and cheeks soft pecks. Your hands found their way to his hair and tangled in the soft locks. Never in the deepest, wildest parts of your mind did you ever think you’d be sharing a moment like this with Nick. You were grateful he felt the same, because if he hadn’t, you weren’t sure you would’ve been able to go back to normal.

“Fuck, I need more of you,” he grunted, grabbing one of your legs. He bent your knee and hoisted your leg, pushing it up to your chest and allowing him to sink deeper.

“Oh, god. Shit.” He groaned. His eyes screwed shut. Nick grew a little more aggressive in his thrusts, each one more forceful than the last.

“You feel so fucking good, oh my god.”

The whine in his voice made your walls clench. You know he felt it because he let out another weak whimper. He pinched his lips together tightly.

You wanted to look in his eyes so badly, to see just how much he wanted you, to see if they would roll back in his head when he came.

“Nick, look at me.” You breathed. Nick shook his head.

“If I look at you, I’ll—“ Nick stopped mid sentence and thrust. He took a deep breath then started again, picking up his pace slightly. “I’m so fucking close.”

Nick fumbled around with his other hand, desperately reaching for your clit. When he finally found it, he circled furiously. His relentlessly fast fingers quickly brought you to the edge. You shuddered hard under him, crying out his name.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” He choked a whine through gritted teeth.

Your walls molded perfectly around him, clutching him in all the right ways. He felt incredible. The more you thought about Nick filling you with his seed, the more it had you reeling. Your mouth fell open as he pounded deeper and harder into you. When his thrusts started to stagger, the irresponsible part of your brain told you to wrap your legs around him, lock him in place so he couldn’t pull out. You were about to test fate, but then Nick quickly pulled away. You did little to hide your disappointed whimper.

The second he was out of you, he came with a deep guttural groan, spurting thick ropes all over your stomach and pubic mound. It was a massive unloading, one you desperately wished he released deep inside of you. If he had, you were positive it would be oozing out.

“Fuck,” he panted, pressing his forehead to yours. You gave him a soft kiss. “I almost fucked up.”

Your cheeks flushed at the confession. Fuck. The thought of him nearly cumming in you had you squirming. He really had you wanting to test the capability of your birth control. You bit your lip.

“Nick?” Your voice was shaky.

Nick cupped your cheek, concern plastered on his face.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! Of course not!” You placed your hand over his and pecked his lips. “I’m perfectly fine, I promise!” You smiled at him, hoping to relive his concern.

He’d done nothing at all wrong. You just didn’t exactly know how to tell him you were just a little sad he didn’t he creampie you.

#nick folio x reader #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #nick folio fic #bad omen fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction

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telekitnetic-art · 1 year

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Have you seen the formline art in splatoon? It's present in a variety of salmon run decals and on some of the locker graffiti. Idk if the Devs just googled "salmon art" and got indigenous art and decided to copy it or what. Not sure how I feel about it personally.

Long post incoming, gonna put a break here. Also sorry for the late response, I wanted to take a couple days to formalize my thoughts together before responding fully.

I have, I remember noticing in 2018-2019 (when i first started playing splatoon 2) how much one of the decals/graffiti located on the ruins of ark polaris back in 2 sort of resembled a formline bear and salmon. (near the logo in this screenshot, I couldn't find a clear picture online)

Back in 2019, it was pretty easy to think of it as coincidence or a stretch for a comparison. But with splatoon 3's salmon run decals, the resemblance is far easier to see, specifically with the TS-ORBRS graffiti and the TS-SCHL graffiti.

(also this was the best image size I could find for the graffiti images, sorry)

A couple of the banners have the designs on them as well:

The website Sealaska Heritage has info such as textbooks and an online doc about formline art (specifically geared towards Haida, Tlingit, and Tsimshian nations' style) with lots of info about formline art, and the Seattle Art Museum website has an info sheet (with credits listed as being from the Sealaska Heritage site as well) breaking down some of the basic shapes of formline art.

with this chart, you can definitely begin to notice the similarities between the Salmon Run graffiti and formline art. the ovoids, crescents, and u-shapes appear noticeably in some of the graffiti such as ORBRS and SCHL.

For perspective, here are some formline pieces featuring salmon or fish from various Indigenous artists from various nations.

"sk’ug sdang" (Two Dog Salmon) by Robert Davidson (Haida)

"metal medallion", by Crystal Kaakeeyáa Rose Demientieff Worl (Tlingit Athabascan)

"Salmon People" by Alano Edzerza (Tahltan)

"Jumping Chum" by Stephanie Anderson (Wet'suwet'en)

"Salmon" by Art Thompson (Nuu-chah-nulth)

And that's literally just the surface of dozens of Indigenous artists from the PNW.

With these pieces, you can begin to see the resemblance that the graffiti designs have. A lot of the heads follow the pattern of utilizing ovoids for both the head and eyes, and u-shapes for the bodies and crescents to fill in specific areas are also common. For example, TS-SCHL has a small school of fish where the bodies are entire ovoids.

However, there are a couple flaws in the graffiti designs too. With a few of the designs, you can see they utilize the u-shape (see the formline shape breakdown from Sealaska again) in designs like TS-WHP and TS-SMFR. I can't speak for every Indigenous formline artist ever, but from how I've been taught to design formline art from my family, the u-shape should connect to the rest of the form instead of free-floating. I drew a quick example here:

you can see similar mistakes with a different kind of u-shape with TS-RLPL and TS-C0HK.

Another very specific mistake that takes a bit of squinting to make out is that ovoids are sort of top-heavy, for lack of a term I can't think of right now. The line or the area should be thicker on the top then the bottom. This mistake is frequent in the graffiti designs utilizing ovoid or ovoid adjacent face or body shapes, like TS-ORBRS, TS-C0HK or TS-SCHL.

Full disclaimer, I am not an expert at formline art. I've been practicing it under the tutelage of my aunt and father for about 3 or so years now, and there are definitely cultural variations that come into play as well. My culture's formline art style can look completely different from someone who is Haida or otherwise. This critique of the graffiti designs is based off my knowledge and skill at formline art, as well as critique and feedback that I've gotten from family. Formline art isn't just something you look at and replicate, there is a specific process of utilizing the shapes and negative space that you need to account for too. Some shapes have their own rules for how they're used as well.

Despite the beginner mistakes, the clear resemblances are pretty definitive proof that a good section of the sticker/graffiti designs for the salmonids are meant to be, or at the very least based off of or inspired by, formline art.

Splatoon's lore has a lot of elements of taking inspiration from real life culture (which is sort of one of the main elements of the story, the squids and octos are basing their society off long dead humans). Hell, Shiver and Frye are two prime examples of Splatoon working in real world culture into their setting and characters.

With that in mind, using an art style that's exclusive to an ethnicity of people as inspiration or baseline reference for the game mode that's all about taking natural resources from a species that in-game dialogue tends to treat as dangerous and lesser-minded is... not a good choice. Especially an ethnicity that has historically been ravaged and attacked by settlers for natural resources.

Now, technically if you do digging into lore for salmon run, you can find out that the salmonid are not as simple-minded as the dialogue in-game (I am staring directly at the deep cut big run announcement dialogue we've gotten so far -_-) makes them out to be. The salmonids do trades and commerce with the octarians for equipment and gear. That's why they have such technically high tech gear, like the scrappers with their shields that actually resemble octarian shields and the flyfish with their missiles and flying aircraft. That's also why power eggs show up in the story mode; they're from the salmonids' trades with the octarians.

So the salmonid could technically be as just as smart as the inklings, which is why the dialogue and some of the portrayals of the salmonid are confusing and contradictory (shiver's dialogue from the first big run, that one promo picture of an inkling walking a smallfry on a leash????). I think a good bit of the fanbase sort of thinks of the little buddy we get during the game as a pet, and I'm sure that much more of the fanbase/playerbase doesn't really care about the lore whatsoever. Salmonids sort of have a similar vibe to me as hilichurls from Genshin Impact, where the lore tells you that they're smarter than people assume while NPCs talk of them as less intelligent monsters. And you're also caught in this paradox where killing/fighting them feels morally wrong but the gameplay loop has you continuously doing that while also telling you on the downlow that you should sort of feel bad about it.

Rassicas did a really good video on translating salmonid lore from various interviews, which is where I learned a lot about the salmonid lore that doesn't really get explained/brought up in the game.

The usage of formline art in Splatoon has me sort of mixed on my opinion, because besides using an Indigenous art style for an enemy species that are considered lesser in intelligence by the NPCs, Indigenous art and culture as a whole has suffered a lot under colonialism. I don't know how much awareness whoever is reading this has about Indigenous history and colonialism, but Indigenous culture as a whole was banned in North America by the respective governments from being practiced by the respective cultural groups. Things such as ceremonies, regalia, and even practicing formline art were banned from being used by Indigenous people. Non-Indigenous people however were free to use it, which is why a lot of bastardized versions of Indigenous regalia and culture exists. You can see it in non-indigenous spiritual practices utilizing Indigenous practices and terminology like spirit animals and dreamcatchers, and sports teams utilizing Indigenous culture in its labelling and mascots. That is where cultural appropriation comes into play. And before I get anybody commenting about this, the salmonid formlines don't count as "cultural appreciation" because as far as the info available is concerned, there wasn't any Indigenous people that were consulted for the designs. And even if there were, I again have mixed feelings about Splatoon utilizing an Indigenous art style as a design piece for an enemy character in the franchise.

On another note, this isn't the first time Indigenous cultural appropriation has popped up in the Splatoon franchise. There was actually a headgear that was unreleased in the first Splatoon game called "Warrior Headdress", and you can guess what it looked like.

Yeah. That was all levels of yikes and I'm thankful as hell that it didn't make it into the game (technically it's not in the game as a wearable item, but you can spot it at the very back of the headgear shop ingame)

So Splatoon has utilized Indigenous culture as inspiration beforehand with the games, so it's not much of a stretch anymore to think that the salmon run graffiti designs were based off formline art or was an attempt at formline art.

I'm not really sold on the idea that the salmonid are meant to be representative of Indigenous people though, nor do I believe that utilizing formline art for the salmonid was a malicious decision. But it was a slightly ignorant decision at best, because again using Indigenous specific art for a species of enemies that gets fought for their natural resources and is referred to by some of the NPCs as basically being lesser-minded animals is really not a good decision.

This whole thread is not meant as a guilt trip for anyone who likes the salmonid lore, has bought any of the salmonid graffiti stickers, or enjoys salmon run, nor is it an accusation of the devs for maliciously misusing Indigenous culture. I actually really enjoy salmon run for it's PSP and concept, but this design aspect gives me mixed feelings as an Indigenous person. And to be honest it's hard to label intentions or the thought process because there isn't any info available on the development of salmon run and those graffiti designs specifically. So it's hard to know if the devs employed an Indigenous artist for feedback or if they indeed just looked at some formline art of salmon and tried to replicate it or used it as inspiration. I'm inclined to believe the latter judging by the beginner formline mistakes seen in some of the designs. There is an art book coming out soon for Splatoon 3, so maybe that will give more info.

To wrap this all up, I don't think there is really anything to be done about the designs. The game has been out for a while and I don't know if the game would change the designs at this point. I also don't think this should stop people from buying the sticker designs in game or playing salmon run. However, it is important to learn about the context of these designs so that you know why they exist and why they can be harmful, and so devs and creators can avoid making the same mistake in the future, and so Indigenous issues with cultural appropriation can be made more aware in the public space and not be ridiculed by non-Indigenous people. And again, I am just one Indigenous person so there may be other opinions from other Indigenous people on the graffiti designs and how they should be handled or viewed.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading and have a good day!! Be sure to check out some actual Formline art made by Indigenous people, like the ones I listed near the top of the post!

#long post #salmon run #indigenous discussion #cw cultural appropriation #whoof that took a while to write #I really don't think this whole situation is one of maliciousness #but one of ignorance.#the devs had the foresight to (almost completely) remove the headdress item from the first game #so good on them for that #I just sort of wish they'd thought through using Indigenous art for the salmonids a lot better.#I wish the salmonids had a different sticker design entirely tbh #graffiti is such an open-ended style concept so they could've found lots of inspiration there #instead of using an Indigenous specific art style #(and making beginner mistakes while doing it)#also if you're here to cry cultural appreciation or about how “oh this is preserving Indigenous culture actually” I'm gonna need you #to walk back out that door.#I did not spend four hours writing this whole post to deal with “but cultural appreciation actually!!!” chuds.#Look up the definition of cultural appreciation vs cultural appropriation and get back to me.

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allmoshnobrain · 2 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 35 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2599 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, romance, a happy ending of sorts

✧ I'm alright here in your arms, darlin' ✧

The weekend zipped by, and before I knew it, Monday had arrived again. Going back to Long Beach and parting ways with Cliff and the boys could've made me a bit sad, but the silver lining was that they were gearing up to pay me a visit soon; everyone was planning to catch my play the next weekend, and to top it off, of course they’d invited me to visit them in Denmark during the new album recordings.

I'd likely be tied up for a bit, getting my ducks in a row for the start of my art studies, but I'd given my word to James I'd come hang out with them for at least a week. As soon as those words slipped out, he showered me with fiery kisses, his hands all over my body, gently urging me with his touch to change my mind and stick around just a little bit longer than planned.

I snuffed out my cigarette on the balcony rail the moment I spotted my dad's Mercedes rolling down the street. James let out a low whistle, clearly impressed by the sight, his hand wrapped around my waist.

"So, on top of the badass bike, you roll in this sweet ride too?" he inquired, and I chuckled.

"Dad's wheels, James. He doesn’t even let me near it ever since I totaled the last one."

Dad pulled up to the curb, and there was Mom, chilling shotgun, arm out the window with a cigarette in hand. He honked, and I hunched down to grab my backpack with a sigh. Quick goodbyes to Cliff, Lars, and Kirk followed before I turned to James.

"See you next week," I grinned, and James strolled over, snagging my waist before planting a long kiss on my mouth, making me blush like crazy. "James! My parents are watching!"

"So what?" he laughed, then dropped another soft kiss on my lips, saying, "Catch you next week, Nore. I'll miss you."

I let out a big sigh, my face on fire as I made my way to the car, yanking open the back door and dodging Dad's curious look in the rearview mirror.

"Oh God," Mom groaned dramatically, taking a slow drag of her cig, eyes locked on James, who was flashing a smile, chilling against the balcony railing. "It's always the long-haired ones, isn't it?"

I ignored her, cheeks still burning, and stared out the window as Dad revved up the car, leaving my friends behind.

"We've got one last thing to handle in San Francisco before we head home, Ellie," Dad chimed in all cheerful. "Hope you don’t mind coming with us."

I blinked, intrigued, and gave a nod. We cruised around the city for a bit until we hit a cute street with a bunch of wooden townhouses. Dad pulled up in front of one, and we hopped out. He fished out a key, popped the door open, and we stepped into an empty space.

I furrowed my brow, kinda puzzled, but tagged along as Mom and Dad showed me the place, enthusiastically talking about how good the neighborhood was. The house was indeed beautiful, with a big backyard, a tiny pool out back with a BBQ spot, three bedrooms and two baths upstairs, and downstairs, two living rooms, a bath and a big kitchen, along with a garage and a basement.

"So?" my dad asked after we wrapped up the tour. "Decent house, right?"

"A bit basic, but I guess it'll work," my mom threw in.

"Work for what?" I chimed in, now seriously puzzled. She huffed, and Dad shot me a grin.

"For you, obviously! You're coming back to San Francisco soon, right?" He reached out, handing me the keys. "It's yours."

"Dad… What do you mean, it's mine?" I blurted out, surprise heavy in my voice. "You're not telling me you guys..."

"We bought the house, of course," my mom replied, and I widened my eyes. "I think it'll be a good starting point for you, don't you think? Much better than that little apartment you had in LA."

"But this... Mom! " I blurted out, panicking at my parents' extravagance. "It's too big! What am I supposed to do with all this space?"

"Oh, we thought you could share it with Cliff and your friends," Dad chimed in, like it was the most obvious thing. "There's enough room for everyone, don't you think?"

I blinked, perplexed, staring at the keys Dad had handed me. Things are changing at warp speed for us, Nore. Cliff's words seemed to echo in my mind, and I realized they were true. Life had flipped upside down in the past year, big time. What was waiting for me in the future? Where was I headed? I had no clue.

But for the first time in forever, I wasn't scared to find out.

"Oh, right!" Dad smiled. "We had the basement soundproofed. It'll be great for the band’s rehearsals, don't you think?"

I just stared at him for a second, then out of nowhere, walked up and hugged him. Dad chuckled, looking a bit surprised but didn't miss a beat returning the hug. When I pulled away, Mom was watching us with a rare little smile on her lips.

"You've grown a lot, Ellie," my dad smiled.

"We're proud of you," my mom added, softly.

If this was a dream, I sure didn't want anyone waking me up.

Backstage at the theater, the usual chaos would get my nerves going, especially for a play I hadn't drilled as much as I probably should've. But weirdly, not this time. When the big day rolled in, a serene calm took over. Maybe it was the joint some of the crew had passed around before we kicked off play prep, or maybe I was just pumped as hell about reuniting with James, Cliff, Lars, Kirk, and Leanne real soon.

"Nore, you look beautiful!" Charlotte beamed, grabbing my hands, and I couldn't help but notice that the same was true for her as well; she had on the play's costume – a gorgeous green dress making her eyes pop, curly brown hair all braided and falling down her right shoulder, shiny makeup adorning her face.

I hadn't checked myself out in the mirror yet, but I knew I'd be rocking something similar – a bomb short shiny blue dress, my hair done up in a fancy bun with a few strands casually framing my face.

"I'm seriously over the moon that everything fell into place. Thanks a bunch, really," she said with genuine warmth. I couldn't help but grin, seeing how pumped Charlie was, understanding this meant the world to her.

"Hey, you'd do the same for me, right?" I tossed back, and she flashed a smile. "Feeling the nerves?"

"Oh, you've got no clue!" she burst out. "I'm gonna need another one of those joints the second we step off that stage."

"I'm down. Just hit me up, and we'll blaze together," I teased, throwing a wink her way. She cracked up, loud and free.

The play kicked off real quick, the lights in the theater dimming, the chaos backstage and the audience hushing up as the first beats of the musical soundtrack kicked in. I hung behind the curtain, catching Charlotte's opening monologue, biding my time for the cue to hit the stage.

Once I stepped out there, all my worries, pains, and nerves just melted away like pure magic.

I had always loved visual arts, but theater always had its own sweet spot in my heart too. The crazy rehearsals that used to be part of my life in High School had done more than just boost my confidence; they’d helped me make friends and fill the void Cliff left when he moved to another city. Rehearsing for a play was fun, but nothing beat that kickass feeling coursing through me when I owned the stage, knowing all the hard work had paid off.

When my bit wrapped up, I risked a peek at the crowd on my way out. A faint grin hit my lips when I spotted Cliff, Leanne, Lars, Kirk, James, and even Mom and Dad in the second row. I locked eyes with Cliff for a moment, and he smiled, the pride shining in his eyes warming my heart with happiness.

I popped up a few more times during the play, but the real star of the show was Charlotte. She hit us all in the feels with her performance, bringing most of the crowd to tears by the end of her story. When the crew gathered on stage for the applause, I noticed that even my mom seemed moved, a gorgeous smile on her face that made her look years younger.

I always figured I took after my dad more, but right then, seeing my mom genuinely happy and touched, it hit me like a ton of bricks that, shockingly, we looked way more alike than I’d ever let myself admit.

The scene after the play was a total whirlwind; we were all throwing hellos, hugs, and compliments around, and Charlotte was practically buzzing with joy at every little pat on the back for her killer performance. Later on, we ditched the fancy gear and chipped in with the stage crew, sorting out whatever needed sorting. It took me almost an hour to finally wiggle my way out from backstage, and there they all were: my friends and my parents, patiently waiting for me. I let out a soft chuckle when Cliff snagged me into a hug.

"You killed it," he whispered, grinning. "So damn proud of you, Nore."

Once all the hugs and grins were done, it was party time. Charlotte was set to hang with the cast, but Leanne, the guys, and I had our own shindig by the pool lined up. Dad was on chauffeur duty, driving Mom, Leanne and me home. Cliff would roll in after, bringing James, Lars, and Kirk along for the ride.

"Well, shall we go then? I asked Alice to get the heated pool ready for you, and the coolers are already stocked with drinks," my dad tossed out, looking as excited as I was.

"Heated pool ," James teased, whispering in my ear, his arm pulling me in close. "What's next? You gonna tell me you're secretly royalty?"

"Are you intimidated, by any chance?" I quipped, arching an eyebrow. He grinned, planting a light kiss on my cheek.

"By you? Never," he shot back, and I gave him a playful shove. That just made him laugh.

Leanne and I got home first. Quick pit stop in the bathroom to slap on our swimsuits, and then, we were both pool-ready. When we hit the pool deck, Cliff, James, Lars, and Kirk had just arrived. I couldn't help but grin at the sight – Kirk and Lars had gone all in, cannonballing into the pool with their clothes on, splashing everyone in sight. They were all laughs, not a care in the world. James, shirtless, was whipping up a couple of drinks and talking with Cliff, who was already puffing away on a cigarette. Leanne and I strolled up, and she wrapped her arms around Cliff, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm itching to dive into that pool," Leanne chirped, all hyped, and Cliff flashed a smile. "Ready to make a splash?"

Off they went, leaving me to lean on the table, checking out James finishing up the drinks.

"I tried whipping up a Cosmopolitan," he spilled, handing one over with a grin. "Not sure it's a masterpiece, though. I'm clueless about these fancy drinks, but I wanted to impress my girl. Figured you deserved it."

My girl. I blushed at his words, my heart doing somersaults, a goofy grin spreading across my face. I took the drink, had a sip, and crinkled my nose – tasted like a bit too much vodka, truth be told.

"It's basically a Vodkapolitan," I quipped, and he cracked up. "But hey, you know you don't need fancy drinks to impress me, right?"

"So, what do I need, then?" he asked, sliding in closer with a grin, hand resting on the small of my back. I shot him a smile.

"Not much. You're already rocking it, Hetfield."

He burst into a big laugh, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a sweet kiss on my shoulder.

"How's your heart doing?" he asked. "Still missing Dave?"

I could read between the lines of his question. Do you still love him? Do you still want to be with him? Can I surrender to what I’m feeling? Can I hope you feel the same?

"Yeah," I sighed. No point in hiding that. No point in pretending. If there was one thing I’d figured out in the past year, it was that sweeping feelings under the rug and dodging the tough talks just lead to trouble. "I don't know if I'll ever stop missing him, James. And I need to find him. You understand that?"

"Absolutely," he said, grabbing my hand, our fingers weaving together.

"But I love you too," I said, and he flashed a soft smile. "And honestly, I'm done wrestling with that."

"Well, I love you right back," he grinned, his arms wrapped around my waist. I rested my hands on his chest, our foreheads touching. "Just gotta remember what Cliff told me and I’ll be okay."

"What?" I chuckled. "What's the Cliff wisdom?"

"That if I ever hurt you, he'd land a swift kick to my balls," he spilled, and I cracked up, throwing my head back. I sighed happily as he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my neck. "But, for the record, I have zero plans of hurting you. You know that, yeah?"

"Appreciate the thoughtfulness," I shot back with a smile, and he burst into laughter.

Later, when we were all a bit tipsy and wiped out, we ended up talking and laughing together over some brews. I smiled fondly, soaking in the sight; Lars and Kirk passing a smoke between them, still chilling in the pool with their arms draped over the edge. Cliff posted up in a chair, Leanne casually braiding a lock of his hair, perched on his lap while he slung an arm around her waist, nursing a half-empty beer. And James, right next to me, his hand resting on my waist, dropping lazy kisses on my neck when he thought no one would see.

It was perfect.

Finally, after all those months, I felt whole.

I wasn't the same girl who’d hopped on a bus to San Francisco that winter of '83. Life had tossed me around, and I’d come out the other side a different breed. I knew I would always love Dave, that I wouldn't rest until I found him, until I explained everything, until I knew he knew the truth, the depth of my love for him. I knew I would never stop missing him.

But there was also James. And James loved me. Where would that road lead? Man, it was a whole new territory, nothing like what I felt for Dave. Yet, I wasn’t afraid, 'cause I had James in my corner. My friends were there, Cliff too. Hell, even my parents were trying to be nice to me this time, and I appreciated it more than I could say.

Change was blowing in the wind. Everything felt fresh, but guess what? This time, I wasn't sad, scared, or angry.

Everything was perfect.

And I was happy.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope

✦ a/n: James and Nore had their happy ending, but what will happen when Dave comes back into Nore's life? You guys will know all about this in the epilogue, I promise!

I just gotta say, it means the world to me that I managed to finish this whole story, and I'm beyond grateful for all the love and support from everyone who's been following along. I'm so, so thankful from the bottom of my heart for all the nice comments and interactions and I really hope you've enjoyed following Nore's journey as much as I loved writing it ❤

About the epilogue, I had to split it into more than one part, because I didn't want to rush anything or leave anything unanswered. It turned out way bigger than I imagined it would 😭 And I'm not done writing it yet, but it's all planned so I know it's gonna be either.... 5 or 6 parts.... I'm really sorry for being such a verbose writer, it's more of a small sequel at this point lol

I will take a short break from posting this Monday and will start posting the epilogue next Friday, hopefully keeping the same posting schedule unless I get too busy to write or post on time.

Big thanks to everyone who stuck with the story this far! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you next Friday! ❤🌸💗💖✨

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 26 days

Text

Will Halstead: Fishing Cabin (NSFW)

Warnings: Mature content (sexual)

You walked over to the river, bag hanging on one arm and an old folding chair in the other hand. You can see Will standing halfway in the river, the straps of his wanders standing stark against his light gray T-shirt. His back was to you, and he didn’t hear you until you dropped your bag down and set up the chair so your feet could be in the cool water. He looked at you curiously, but you just waved happily at him then plopped down and pulled out your barely started novel.

He looked so innocent out there. A man at peace with the world around him just fishing. Nobody would guess that he had spent the last night fucking you into the mattress. You vaguely remember his alarm going off and him climbing out of bed. It was just before sunrise as he got himself dressed and grabbed his gear to go out to the river. You had been so exhausted you could imagine being able to function and had subsequently passed back out before he had made it to the door. You slept in until almost noon and Will had been at the river for hours already.

When he had told you that he was planning a trip to his father’s old cabin in Wisconsin for a long weekend the first thing out of your mouth had been to ask if you were invited. He was surprised and told you that you were more than welcome to go but had warned you that the cabin was small and didn’t have any amenities besides running water and electricity. You could tell that he was worried about you hating your trip. He thought that you would be bored and miserable. You thought about reminding him that you had come from a small town and were probably more used to the wild outdoors than his raised in Chicago ass.

You knew he wanted to fish and that was fine with you. You just wanted to get away from the city and the noise, get some sun, and finish the book you had been trying to read for the last couple of months- you had even brought the next book in the series just in case. And of course, to spend some time with your relatively new boyfriend. You guys were still in the honeymoon phase and the sex was fire hot. You had given up a lot of things including sleep to make time for both of your rising libidos.

You only had another 100 pages when the sun became too hot for you to handle, and you stripped down to your bikini top. You bathe in the midday sun alternating between reading, dozing, and stealing appreciative looks at Will. Sometimes he would catch you and you would share a smile.

You finish your book not long after. Your skin is warm, and sun-kissed. You toss your book back into your bag before wading into the water towards Will. Water soaks through your jean shorts giving you relief from the hot sun. You press your chest against his back pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You made out well today.” He hums in agreement and talks about the fishing conditions. “Okay, show me.”

He looked surprised by the request but happy to share something he enjoyed with you. You stepped around him as he transferred the pole to you and helped you cast the line and slowly reel it in so that the fly at the end had movement to attract the fish before casting again. You leaned back into him letting yourself follow his movements in companionable silence. It was after the fifth cast-out that Will spoke. “Why do I get the feeling that I am being played?” His tone was light and good-natured but suspicious. He lets go of the reel and you do a perfect cast. “You’ve done this before.”

“Once or twice.”

“And I was told that fishing couldn’t be sexy.” He whispered into your ear as his hand smoothed down your sides to your hips. You press your ass back against his groin.

“They never seen you in those waders than, baby.” You tease as you turn to make eye contact with him. He leans down and catches your lips with his. It starts as a soft kiss but soon he's tilting your chin up more to give himself better access, his tongue tracing your lips. You press back against him firmer rocking against him. One of his hands slides up to cup your breast and give a firm squeeze. You moan opening your mouth to him. You kept a hand on the reel as he turned you and pulled your legs around his waist.

He carries you back over to the bank. He takes the reel from your hand and tosses it near your bag. He turns abruptly making you gasp. He sits down in your chair with you on his lap. He kisses down the string line of your bikini top and then follows it back up to the other side. You pull the straps of his waders down and off his arms. You untuck his gray t-shirt pulling up his stomach as his fingers undo the tie at your neck. The flimsy material drops and Will’s hand grips your ass forcing you to rise onto your knees and closer to his hungry mouth. He latches onto a nipple tongue rolling over the rapidly hardening bud.

You grab the back of his head yanking on his curl. He releases your nipple but only to catch the other one to give it a similar treatment. He bites firmly but gently on the bud. You instinctively try to bite back a moan arching into him. “There isn’t anyone for miles. You can be as loud as you want baby- Come on I want to hear you.” He continues sucking and nipping at your breast and then back up your collarbone and neck. You groan his name, rocking your core deliberately into his groin. His fingers tighten in the hair at the nape of your neck. His other hand finds the small of your back urging you to rut harder against him.

You yank his shirt off demandingly, hands roving his warm skin. You suck hard on his neck and his hips jump to meet yours. You know it’s too hard and that you're going to leave a mark, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You feel his hand on your neck, his long fingertips relaxed as he pushes you away from his bruised skin. You meet his dark eyes and his and his grip tightens. “Naughty girl,” He kisses you harshly, possessively. His tongue dominates yours, forcing you into a dance that you have to submit to.

He forces your head back again, “Take off your pants now.” He lunged forward to give you one more, hot demanding kiss as he held you in place. He broke it just as abruptly. A silent pause hung between the two of you before your hands shot to the button of your jeans' shorts ripping them open. You have to push off of his lap to completely take them off, but you are rewarded with one of his fingers pushing past your cotton underwear and into your hot core.

“Oh fuck, please.”

“Please what baby? Use your words.” His rough voice is taunting.

“Please-” You gasp loudly as he curls his finger inside of you. You clench around his finger, nails digging into his shoulders for purchase. You start to speak again but he slides another finger into your core and starts pumping them. “Will,” You moan loudly.

“Is this what you wanted baby?” When you don’t answer he halts his movements. You whimper and rock desperately against him. “Ah-ah-ah, I need to hear you.”

“I want you to make me cum. Please Will, pleas-” His fingers curl firmly into you, hitting the sensitive spot of your walls with precision.

“That’s a good girl.” He breathes into your ear, his beard scratching your cheek. “You’re going to thank me when you come.” You clench down hard on his fingers at his words alone. His thumb starts rubbing against your clit as his fingers thrust and curl inside of you. He took his time building up your orgasm. Slowly and deliberately. When your thighs started shaking, he knew you were close. His other hand went back to your neck forcing you from his neck where you had been nibbling. “Look at me.” Your eyes shoot to his. He starts to tighten his grip on your neck. You try to keep your eyes open as the crescendo of pleasure washes over you amplified by your restricted air. You keep them half-lidded through most of it his own eyes burning hot with desire. It becomes too much, and they shut of their own accord he works you through your orgasm. Then gently pushes you into another. By the time the second has washed through you are half sobbing half yelling his demanded thank you’s for making you come.

You are only stopped when he sticks his fingers still wet with your release into your mouth. You suck on them greedily until he forces his hand away. You settle more firmly in his lap, trying to catch your breath and regain your senses. It’s the hardness prodding against your still sensitive core that your neurons start firing again remembering that while he had taken good care of you, Will hadn’t gotten much attention besides some heavy petting and forceful grinding.

You look up at Will. He is smirking smugly at your fucked out expression and still shaking thighs. You glide your hands down his chest and stomach and into his waders to undo the button of his jeans. It isn’t hard to find his cock. Rock hard and leaking precum. Your stroke him a few times before releasing him and lifting your hips so that you can help him tug his layers of clothes down just enough to get to his dick. You start to slide off his lap intending on giving him a blowjob he would never forget. He grabs you stalling your movements. You look at him questioningly. “I’m not going to last long, and I need to be inside you.” He seals his demand with another deep kiss.

You lift yourself up again and ease yourself onto his length. You both groan as he bottoms out inside of you. His grip on your hips tightens as you start at a slow pace. A stinging slap on your ass and him thrusting up to meet you tells you that slow isn’t what he wants. You speed up your pace and he does even more. The thrusting quickly becomes hard and rough. He twines one of his hands into your hair and pulls making you arch your body into him. He uses it to take control. His other hand holds you steady by your hip as his pistons roughly into you. You scream when the angle shifts and he hits your g-spot. You hold onto him tightly as another orgasm slams through you. The tight clenching of your walls forces Will’s release. He rocks you against him a few more times before stilling. “Fuck baby,” He smooths your wild sex hair lovingly before helping lift you off his softening cock. The two of you share a gentle kiss. Then Will wraps his arm around you and eases you both back against the chair. That's what breaks the camel's back or in this case the chair. It sends Will toppling onto his back with you launching forward on top of him. There is a moment of silence before the echoes of your laughs fill the air.

#will halstead x you #will halstead imagine #will halstead x reader #will halstead #chicago med

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 2 months

Note

“I know it itches, but you have to stop messing with it.”

Miller and John

From this prompt list!

"You know, for all the things I was worried about happening on shore leave, this wasn't one of them." Miller chuckles even as his eyes dart to John's face. His hands are gentle as he spreads the cooling gel over the worst of the sunburn.

John sits patiently with a frown firmly on his face. There's gel on the top of his nose and cheeks, just visible enough to draw his eye down. Distracting.

"I thought you wore a hat?" Miller asks, his voice confused.

"I did." John states with a sigh.

"Huh." Miller was probably wondering how a human being went from white to burned in such a short amount of time.

He scratches absentmindedly at his arm. It's strange, having worked so hard to remember how to move without the armor that he can do it without a thought. Maybe the R&R everyone had been pushing on him had some benefits.

Except for the risk of burning in the sun. He knew he was pale, but this was ridiculous.

“I know it itches, but you have to stop messing with it.” Miller chides.

Of course John went to Miller rather than let Kelly or the rest of Blue Team see that 1. he had gone outside, and 2. the consequences of said venture. Miller worried about normal things like ticket prices and public transportation. He treated John like another awkward guy rather than a timebomb.

"You'll end up with a farmer's tan once it fades but it's not like the gear shows that off. We're gonna have to let the stuff dry before anything else."

John nods and looks at the gel on his arms and face. "Thanks."

"We should stick to something indoors. I heard there's an aquarium a couple blocks north of here." Miller says pulling up his wrist and the cheap chatter on it to look at his itinerary he doesn't know John knows he made. "They have a military discount! I mean if you want."

A grown Spartan has no right looking that sheepish.

"Might be nice seeing animals not trying to attack me." John says and gestures for Miller to lead.

"Oh. Yeah sure!" John can see the wheels turning in Miller's head as he struggles not to follow that line of thought. "It's mostly fish. Fish are calming. You don't have bad experiences with fish, do you?"

John opens his mouth to watch Miller deflate and then he smiles. "Fish are fine."

Miller lights up.

"Just no mushrooms."

#did I make a cute date to the hurt/comfort prompt? yes sorry #I love shore leave fics #i should learn to share mine.#my writing #ask game tag #Spartan Miller #John 117 #Miller: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? John: :) wouldn't you like to know radio boy #local cave worm gets sunburned. more at 11 #raccoonings

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adelaidedrubman · 9 months

Text

music monday + last (several) line(s)

well it’s monday, y’all know what that means. time for your weekly fishing song + hl&s excerpt. thank you to @nightbloodbix @corvosattano @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @simplegenius042 for enabling me with your tags, sending fresh ones along to @belorage @henbased @florbelles @unholymilf @direwombat @strangefable @v0idbuggy @derelictheretic @firstaidspray @poetikat @jackiesarch @afarcryfrommymain @ri-a-rose @voidika @shallow-gravy @bluemojave @nuclearstorms @schoute @wrathfulrook @roofgeese @8bitpizzacoupons @stacispratt and anyone else wanting to share some tunes and/or writing!

jumped in my john boat / i stow my gear / i fire her up and when i am in the clear / i sail across that water / as smooth as glass / ready, here i come, you five pound bass / i find a perfect spot / some old dead trees / back in a canyon where you cain’t feel no breeze / i tie my lure / i make my cast / it’s breakfast time, you five pound bass

while jessie does have the pleasure of catching a five pond bass this chapter, her sailing across the water is somewhat less smooth (and the boat she captains is not a john boat, although it is a — oh, you get the pun)

“After all that, they’re treating this like a fucking scheduling issue, when they should be —”

Should be what? She choked on a particularly strong gust of wind, stinging her chapped and sunbaked cheeks as it whipped against her face, a matching burn rising in her throat. Apologizing? Begging? Taking it all back?

She gritted her teeth tightly to steel against the wind as she continued. “They have the fuckin’ gall to act like they’re the ones being nice about this, when they can’t even —” She clenched and ground her jaw. “It’s a public shore! Sherri doesn’t own it, just because her store is nearby and it’s fucking convenient for them! They never even had a right to —” “You need to slow down!” She pushed away the arm reaching for the steering wheel. “I’m fucking talkin’ at a perfectly fuckin’ measured and goddamn coherent pace! If you can’t keep up, that’s —” “The boat!” he screamed, fingers clawing and pulling at her arm without managing to get it to budge. “You need to slow down the —” Sudden warmth slung itself along the tops of her thighs — a glistening mix of blood and saliva spurting from his mouth as his jaw crashed against the glossy wood of the dash. And the air filling her lungs to feed the complaining shout building in her chest was knocked from her just as quickly by the heavy impact of his torso crashing against her as he was flung back — landing in her lap for the briefest heartbeat before they were both sent flying over the captain’s seat and tumbling along the length of the boat as its bow tipped upward and the smooth coast of water along its hull was replaced by a harsh, violent scraping.

#jestiny 🤝 xander: crashing a boat #also sorry if the formatting on this is all the way fucked #tumblr decided i needed to choose between no spaces between paragraphs and giant spaces so. giant spaces it is (hopefully)#wip #Spotify

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nostalgicamerica · 1 year

Text

True Story:

Throughout my life I have had many obsessions; fishing, the blonde I sat behind in high school biology, to have my own dog (Not just a 'family' dog), the redhead three doors down from our house, hockey, the brunette who would later become my wife, and a number of other things.

But when I was 10 years old I – like every other boy I knew – had a burning desire that made all other obsessions pale in comparison. My singular desire was to have to have a BB gun. I didn't care what kind, although for some reason I loved the look of the Daisy Model 30-30. Maybe it was because of all the Rawhide Kid, Kid Colt; Outlaw, or Cheyenne Kid comic books I consumed whilst hiding from my mother and her infernal chore list.

I wonder in retrospect if my mother believed that if a comic had 'Kid' in the title it couldn't possibly lead her flock astray, but I digress.

As far as BB guns go, I really didn't care what make or model. I just knew I had to have one. I dreamed about fighting off coyotes, black bear, and local bullies. The only requirement was that it be able to shoot a copper-clad projectile at a high rate of speed. Most of my friends already had their obsessions satisfied and it was a source of constant sorrow that I was BB gun-less.

My desire for a BB gun also filled me with a feeling of guilt because my parents ensured I had everything I needed and fulfilled many of my wants. My mother was never shy about providing me books, new or used, and Dad bought me all the fishing gear and hockey equipment I ever needed.

But Ivanhoe and shin pads couldn't fill the hole in my life left by something I had never possessed in the first place.

Any BB gun would have filled the hole.

One close friend, Skunk (don't ask), had the Holy Grail of the BB gun world – a Crosman pump rifle. This particular rifle was carried around town with much-deserved pride (oh, how I hated Skunk when he toted that gun around). I personally witnessed the sleek weapon puncture the side of a tomato juice can. I know it doesn't sound like much today, but back then, tomato juice cans were manufactured by the Ohio Boilermaker Company, made of 10 gauge, zinc-lined, galvanized steel, and, empty, they weighed 23 pounds.

Another friend actually had a BB pistol but his folks took it away from him because he put out one too many window.

There was a smattering of other BB guns in town. Most boys, who were born to more BB gun-friendly parents toted around Daisys, but I recollect other makes like Powermaster, Benjamin, and, of course, Crosman.

Mom apparently wasn't too worried about my brother and I shooting our eyes out because the Christmas after my 11th birthday my brother and I were presented with matching Daisy 102 Model 36 Cubs. My initial jealousy that my brother got his first gun at 10 while I had had to wait until I was 11 abated after a few seconds when I remembered he was my partner in crime and a pretty good friend all the way around.

The jealousy was immediately replaced with an ugly feeling of ingratitude that made me feel guilty and I tried to shake it off before my dad could see it in my eyes.

Cubs!

Yes, they were guns. Yes, they would shoot a BB. Yes, if you squinted at them, the rifles did sort of look menacing. But they were still Cubs, of all things. To those ignorant of the BB gun world, allow me to explain that the Daisy Cub was the AMC Pacer of the gun hierarchy. It was akin to eating a fast-food burger that has been sitting too long under the warmer; it looked vaguely burger-like, it would fill up an empty stomach, but no matter how you looked at it, it was never going to be a thick, mouth-watering, flame-broiled burger fresh from the barbecue grill in the back yard, dripping with grease, and topped off with the freshest of toppings.

Given that Christmas unreasonably seems to always fall in the dead of winter every year, and at least 8 feet of snow covered everything as far south as Des Moines and would until at least April, we were resigned that the guns wouldn't see much action until the Detroit Tigers were in spring training, at a minimum.

Dad, with a head toward solving our dilemma, came through in fine fashion. He covered the windows in the attic with a heavy, BB-proof tarp, hung up paper targets on a length of rope at one end of the cramped space and created an indoor shooting range for his two would be cowboys.

At this point it behooves me to again educate the BB gun ignorant; as a BB does not have a method of propelling itself down a barrel like a bullet, a BB gun has one of two ways to operate: 1. Compressed air (either manually pumped or by using a pre-filled CO2 cartridge), or, 2. Spring-loaded.

Take a wild stab at what method the fine folks at Daisy chose for the Daisy 102 Model 36 Cub.

Initially the BBs zipped to the targets just fine. The single light bulb hanging from the rafters was proof as it had to be replaced more than once, and we discovered the ricochet effect shooting at the chimney bricks.

By the end of January, the springs that provided the propulsion in the Cubs had lost some of their zip. To hit the targets we were required to raise the muzzles a few degrees to provide some elevation to the projectile's trajectory. By the beginning of March, the springs in both guns were so much al-dente fettuccine, and even if we managed to hit the targets – which wasn't a given – the BBs could no longer penetrate.

It wasn't long afterward that the blush fell off the rose and we were spending less and less time sharpening our sharpshooting skills.

I had some Two Gun Kid and Apache Kid comics to read.

Spring does show up every year, even to Northern Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula. It's magical warmth causes the snow banks to shrink, gradually at first, and then disappear like cotton candy in a rain storm. It turned the roads into nearly impassable slush and mud, and boys' yearnings to everything summer: baseball, fishing, camping, freedom, no school.

In the spring and summer, Mom's infernal chore list was only a threat if one couldn't sneak out of the house before she latched onto an arm or ear. Avoiding Mom wasn't all that difficult, mostly because my brother and I had five younger siblings who always seemed to be crying for something or other and, as a result, Mom was almost continually distracted.

The first few glorious days of summer were spent in pursuit of birds and small animals with our new but impotent weapons. The hunts turned out to be exercises in futility because even if we managed to hit a chipmunk or squirrel, the BBs would do little more than tickle them.

It wasn't too many days before the Cubs were left in the hall closet to gather dust. What was the point of toting around a firearm that wouldn't fire? Nobody feared us, and the bears and coyotes were scarce, so our pursuits turned to fishing or swimming or that old trusty standby, finding ways to pester the neighborhood girls.

A few weeks into summer found a group of us kids, who had all successfully dodged our respective mother's chore lists, looking for mischief to get into. Picking on the girls was terrific fun but even that had gotten old. How often can you bomb a tea party with water balloons before it loses its attraction?

Fishing was always a draw for me, but nobody else wanted to slog the three miles to the river. A pick up baseball game was mentioned, but there were only eight of us, and, unless we wanted to play with older kids who would take over everything, or worse, girls, it was a non-starter.

Somewhere in our lethargy, the conversation turned to World War II. Over for some time, it was still a favorite subject. One friend's father had actually been in Normandy, and later on was stationed in Paris after it was liberated. He had been a supply clerk and never saw combat, but he still was a hero to us wide-eyed war junkies.

Most of us wouldn't have been able to find Normandy on a map, and whenever I heard of La Madeleine or other French towns I couldn't help picturing Mom's jar of orange marmalade that was always on the breakfast table. But even in our ignorance, we still loved talking about the war.

And then somebody casually asked, why not have a war of our own? For real. With guns. BB guns, albeit, but guns nevertheless. We could map out a large area south of town, stake out territories and try to capture the other's flags. We could set up rules of engagement and follow them to the letter. No targeting someone above the neck. No shooting if the target is closer than 10 feet. If you are hit anywhere but the arms or legs, you are out until the campaign was over and the new one began. Skunk could only pump his gun once; anything more would give him an unfair advantage.

The three boys who weren't already wearing Coke-bottle glasses had to see if they could filch safety goggles from their dad's garages or find something else to protect their eyes.

Breathless, my brother and I raced home to grab our guns and I crept up to our room to grab the half-filled, cardboard carton of ammunition Even employing stealth, we heard Mom yelling for us as the screen door banged behind us and we made our escape and headed to the field of battle.

Most boys are brain dead. At least I was and I can honestly say the thought of how stupid we were being never crossed my gray matter. I can't speak for my brother, but he was right by my side and I don't recall him voicing objections.

If we had stopped to think we would have recognized that if we were found out, not only would Dad bend our guns against the trunk of the maple tree in the back yard, but he'd wear out his razor strop on our heinies.

Perhaps common sense was out pestering the girls that afternoon because it was nowhere to be found when we all met up in the field under the giant cherry tree that we had designated as the demilitarized zone.

In short order we formed two, four-person armies and hammered out the theater of operations. We had to stay in between the two dirt roads to the east and west, and the northern edge of the pond was the southern boundary. The Pelkkanen's (who happened to be out of town) outhouse would represent the northern border of our combat arena.

We tore up the tee shirt pinched from somebody's clothesline and each team took half as a flag. We would split up, set up our head quarters and wait 20 minutes before launching hostilities.

None of us had a watch, so approximately 4 minutes later, we were all slinking through the waist-deep weeds and bramble bushes, crouching behind cedar bushes and pine trees looking for the enemy. Strategy? Ha! We just moved towards the opposite end of the war zone until, hopefully, we'd engage somebody to shoot at.

That's exactly what happened. The two skirmish lines met in an opening in the shrubbery and began firing as fast as we could work the levers on our guns. BBs flew like confetti and boys fell with over-dramatic flair. The BBs had a slightest of stings, except for Skunk's shots, but even those weren't terrible.

Through four successive battles the teams went at it. mostly adhering to the rules. One boy caught a BB in the ear that made him yelp, and in the fourth skirmish I took one in my lower lip which immediately began to swell. The pain wasn't too terrible and I fought on.

Tied two battles to two, we determined to settle the issue of supremacy in one last engagement. To the victor would belong the spoils, whatever they were. Possibly an empty tomato juice can.

Unfortunately, the other team had at least one boy who wasn't addle-minded and had something up their sleeves; they had no intention of a frontal assault.

We found out too late that three of the opposition moved to the west side of the combat zone and made somewhat of a ruckus, drawing our attacking force on the run, while their fourth slipped by unobserved on the east side, waltzed into our base, swiped our flag and redeployed back to his base.

We lost the battle and thus the war without firing a shot. While certainly the defeat stung, my brother and I took the whipping in stride and opined that we'd know better next time. One of our team yelled some of the worst Finnish words he knew; paska, and kusipaa and paskiainen being chief among them. (For those who don't speak Finn, trust me, they're pretty tame by today's standards.)

For some unknown reason that escaped the others in our army, Skunk was livid. How could we lose so easily with such superior firepower? The tyhmät päät must have cheated! He was going to exact some sort of revenge. I tried telling him we just lost and that's the way it goes sometimes. But he was beyond reasoning with.

Skunk set off to the other side of the field with the rest of the team following behind. He would later claim he only pumped his gun once, but my brother and I would both rat him out to the fellows that we both had seen him pumping the gun multiple times as he advanced on the other army's position. How many times did he pump the pump? I have no idea, but it was more than one.

The other team emerged from hiding and began rubbing it in as we approached - as we would have done had we been the victors. Without a word Skunk raised the Crosman and took bead on one of our friends, Jussi. The intended target yelled and spun around to take cover when the BB punctured the denim and skin that covered his keister.

We were all in shock as we watched a small, dark, wet spot appear and grow slowly larger on the wounded boy's left buttock. Even Skunk was mortified at what he'd done. We were all shocked and most of us were crying except for - oddly enough - the boy with the BB in his butt. He handled being shot with remarkable aplomb.

The youngest boy in our gang lost control of his bladder and he peed his pants. (nobody gave him flack for the leak - he was only 8 and, frankly, some of us struggled to keep from peeing in our drawers, too.)

Skunk tossed his gun aside and ran off, all the while crying how sorry he was. The rest of us gathered around our wounded comrade and dithered back and forth about what to do. Jussi gingerly lowered his trousers baring an expanse of pale white flesh with an ugly purplish circle the size of a nickel surrounding a BB-sized darker hole. Bright blood trickled from the wound and dripped down into his pant leg.

Someone suggested sucking out the BB like we might suck out rattlesnake venom. Even Jussi was taken aback by the suggestion and in no uncertain terms bellowed, "Ain't nobody sucking on my arse!"

I picked up Skunk's Crosman and we helped the only real casualty of what we'd come to refer to as the War of the Keweenaw hobble home to have his mom administer first aid.

Either Jussi's parents were brighter than we gave them credit for and didn't buy the story that their son was injured by a branch when he fell out of a tree, or Jussi just told them the truth.

Whatever the case, in short order, all of our parents were brought up to speed and that evening found my brother and me in the backyard with Dad. Our Cubs on the ground at our feet.

Without words he gestured for me to hand him my gun. I did so waited for him to slam the gun against the tree trunk. Instead, he raised his knee and bent the barrel of the gun over it like it was Play-Doh. He tossed my Cub aside and repeated the ceremony with my brother.

We waited for him to pull out his strop but it wasn't forthcoming. Even his belt stayed cinched around his waist. He just looked at us sadly and shook his head.

He hugged us both and whispered, "I'm disappointed in both of you."

We would have rather had him wear out the razor strop on our butts. That was a punishment we could understand, even if it was a painful. "Please yell at us, Dad!" I screamed in my head.

Both my brother and I were sobbing uncontrollably. The worst punishment imaginable had been handed down - Dad was disappointed in us. It was a pain we would strive hard to never feel again.

All of us who had participated in the War of the Keweenaw had received punishments of varying degrees. We all lost our guns, except Skunk, who, in his remorse and shame, presented it to Jussi in atonement.

My brother and I would spend the next several months trying to make Dad proud of us again. We stopped sneaking out of the house and even willingly worked on Mom's infernal chore list that seemed to keep growing, and completed everything on it that an 11 and 10 year-old could. As much as we would have liked to do so, we just weren't able to reshingle the house and garage roofs on our own, but we willingly helped Dad do the job.

Eventually, after a time, Dad returned to his normal, boisterous, and joking self and life went on and it was good.

I never owned another BB gun. A handful of years later I received a Remington .30-06 just in time for deer season, and I've owned multiple rifles, shotguns and pistols since then, but I've never had an 'obsession' for the guns. They are nothing more than tools that I always handle with the respect they deserve.

Note: A dozen or so years ago I was able to visit my old home town and reconnect with the few of my friends who still live in the area. Skunk and Jussi are still best of friends and I can still see the boy in both through the grey. Jussi grinned at me when I brought up The War of the Keweenaw, went to his basement and returned with the Crosman BB gun. He claimed it still worked perfectly.

Although I declined to do so when he offered to let me feel the bump, he asserts the BB is still lodged firmly in his buttock.

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