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azsazz · 3 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 14)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,355

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]

Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭

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“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.

He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.

He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.

Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.

He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.

Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.

He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.

All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.

“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.

Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.

The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”

No. Fucking. Thanks.

Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it.

Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?

“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.

He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.

“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.

“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.

The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”

“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?

Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him.

Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.

“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair.

“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—”

“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.”

He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.

He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.

Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening.

Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.

He’ll show that fucker.

It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.

His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.

He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.

His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.

The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.

He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—

Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.

He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.

There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.

His prayers are not answered.

When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.

Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.

He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes.

Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.

His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.

“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”

“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.

He does care that it’s bothering him, though.

Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.

He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall.

Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.

There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.

It’s you, and you’re in his bed.

Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.

One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?

And two, who the fuck let you in his room?

Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.

The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?

Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.

But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor.

There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.

His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.

You must be used to it by now.

This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.

His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe.

Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—

No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—

Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.

He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.

Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now.

It’s fucking locked.

Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest.

“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”

He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.

“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.

He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.

Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree.

With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs a fucking drink.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #modern!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

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momotonescreaming · 3 months

Text

STWG Daily Prompt: Chocolate Covered Strawberries

[Part One]

“Do you think you need a special type of chocolate?” Eddie starts, speaking into the stagnant air of the trailer as he flops down onto the couch. Sends a burst of dust spiralling into the air as the cushions dip under his weight. “To make, like, chocolate covered strawberries or something.”

He cranes his head, hair splayed out around him as he watches Wayne’s reaction. Watches as his uncle lowers the newspaper he was reading, looks over at Eddie from behind the folded pages from his position in his armchair in the corner. Face carefully still as he raises a single eyebrow as if to say how the hell should I know?

Eddie just huffs, rolling his eyes at his uncle, arm draped over the side of the couch as he settles in. He’s tempted to tip himself upside down — pun not intended — hang his head over the side of the couch and kick his legs up in the air. Maybe it would help him think, all the blood rushing to his head. He’d do it, if he wasn’t sure he’d kick over something — a hat, or a mug, or two, or three. “Throw me a bone here, Wayne.”

“I’d say regular chocolate should work just fine.” Wayne says, lowering his eyebrow. Voice gruff, but serious as he gives Eddie an answer. “Just put it in the fridge to keep it cool. Help it set.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, picking at the stray threads of the couch. Running them between his fingers. Plucking and pulling them taut, his voice pitching higher. Tighter. Feeling and sounding a little bit more vulnerable than he intended. “You’re not a chef.”

“Neither are you,” His uncle retorts, face carefully deadpan. And Eddie snorts, the thread of anxiousness he was pulling, now slowly loosening in his chest. “So what bought this on? Dinner with your boy went well I take it?

“So well,” Eddie gushes, smile creeping across his face, cheeks flushing pick at the thought of Steve. At the thought of Wayne calling Steve his boy. He’s sure Wayne can see it from his armchair, looking at him from over the pages of the newspaper. Can almost guarantee it, in fact, if the smile on his uncle’s face is anything to go by. “Steve made us dinner from scratch — lasagne with garlic bread and a wine paring and everything — and it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. And not just because he made it for me. He lit candles, and was wearing this navy blue button down that made him look so hot.”

“Boy,” Wayne says, a little exasperated. He’s still smiling. Eddie can see it curling up underneath his beard.

“We listened to music and made ice cream sundaes together for desert,” Eddie continues, smile not leaving his face. His toes curl, and he sort of lets himself shrink into the couch as he talks. Melting into it under thoughts of Steve. “We kissed and slow danced in the kitchen as I helped him do the dishes.”

“And,” Wayne prompts, raising his eyebrow again, but he’s still smiling. He’s happy for him, Eddie knows.

Eddie sighs, letting Wayne look right through him. He always does.

“And if I don’t do something equally romantic in return I’m going to cry,” Eddie whines, playing it up, slumping even further until he’s almost falling off the couch and onto the floor. Locks eyes with Wayne and pouts. He’s being dramatic, but he means it. Steve deserves the best, deserves the romance he’s always wanted and Eddie isn’t quite sure how to give it to him.

“Romance ain’t a competition, boy,” His uncle simply says.

“It is and I’m losing,” Eddie whines, pulling a face as Wayne just laughs. Deep, and warm, and comforting.

#eddie munson #wayne munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #stwgdailyprompt #My Writing

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viajunebaby · 3 months

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Task Force 141! — Going Down On You!

my second post, I hope you like the previous one. love ya 🩶!

afab! reader & task force 141

Ghost;

— isn’t he just so pretty while looking at you with those deep brown eyes while you’re in the most vulnerable state?

— loves to go down on you as much as he loves the way you go down on him

— digging his fingers into your flesh

— he loves every single sound you are making, encouraging you to be louder

— ‘want me to make you feel fuckin’ good? then act like it, slut.’

— he prefers degrading more than praising when he is eating you out

— when you are nearing your god knows which orgasm he became more loving and sweet,

— ‘one more, yeah? gonna give me one more, baby?’

— he is doing it with his mask on, only his eyes and tip of his nose visible for you

— dirty motherfucker sometimes doesn’t wash it after, just to have your smell close to him

— you are pressed against the wall and he is kneeling in front of you, that’s it, that’s the tweet

Soap;

— he loves to do it when you are busy

— the way you are trying to push him away only to end up with your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to your body

— he is a sloppy eater, a lot of saliva and your juices mixed together

— this is his definition of girl dinner

— a lot of praising, as well as asking for your consent every ten seconds,

— ‘feels good? you want more? gonna be good fuckin’ toy or you’re tired already?’

— he can’t help but add one or two fingers inside you, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers like a chinese finger trap

— he doesn’t care if you are too tired after eating you out. if you finished then he fulfilled his duty

— loves it when you are sitting on his face, and loves 69 position even more

Gaz;

— this was his favourite porn category when he was younger, of course he knows what he’s doing

— five minutes and your thighs are already shaking uncontrollably

— he loves when you are keeping your hands on his head, moving him around

— lapping at your clit like this is his favourite thing to tease (because it is)

— he’s not much of a talker while eating you out but he is always making sure to hum or mumble something so you’d feel the vibrations of his tone deep between your thighs

— speaking of thighs, you know they would be covered in hickeys and love bites when he’s done

— ‘so fuckin’ sweet, if I could I’d eat you on a bloody dinner table’

— guess what? he did!

Price;

— when I tell you he is a fucking god at it, I know you’d believe me

— he obviously loves eating you out more than you giving him head

— loves your pretty little sounds and your reactions to his tongue deep inside your cunt

— loves holding you down by your thighs so you wouldn’t escape the pleasure

— his beard is tickling and scratching your inner thighs that you have to put ice on it sometimes

— he isn’t fast, he loves to watch you struggling to find sweet release while he is taking his time

— never ever broke eye contact with you while going down on you, loves to watch you too much

— he also loves to spit on your clit, just to attack it again with his mouth and tongue

— a looot of praising

— ‘that’s it, yes, let it go, dear. so fuckin’ wet and sweet f’me. gonna cum f’me? yeah, you are’

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pupcuck · 4 months

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JINGLE BELL COCK !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, uncle/niece incest, somno

notes. MERRY CHRISTMAS!! this is very messy and rushed i haven’t been able to write properly lately so forgive me for the repetitiveness and clunkiness!! ignore typos as always :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated !!! this is reallyyy sloppy and I’m embarrassed so I may go back and delete and rewrite in a few days time 😭

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“Woah,” Leon's knees almost buckle when you barrel into him, “Pumpkin, wow,” He takes you in, settles his hands on your hips, and it might be inappropriate ‘cause your mother glares at him over your shoulder. What did she want him to do? Grab your ass? Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve. Just doesn’t wanna get put on a list of some kind. “You’re so big now.”

“Yeah?” Your cheeks split with a sweet smile, “I missed you, uncle.”

“God, you’re so big I can’t believe it,” He gives you a once over, he’d like to catcall you to show you how he feels, Leon refrains from doing so. “I remember when you were a kid, always sat in my lap ‘n said you wanted to marry me.”

“Awww,” A gloved hand comes to pat his cheek, you take the tip of the fabric between your teeth, taking it off finger by finger, “I can do that again if you’d really like, uncle.” Your nails scratch his scruffy chin, press your finger into the divot he hates so much, then you stare right at it. Don’t look at that, god. Totally messed him over. Shit fucked up his golden ratio.

“What're you lookin’ at, pumpkin?” He shifts from foot to foot, moves his flight bag from one shoulder to the other.

“Just never seen you with a beard,” You shrug, beaming at him once more. Okay, not the chin then, thank fuck. “It’s cute, uncle, makes you look older.” Leon doesn’t know if that’s good or bad, though he feels his spinal disk shrink with each passing second.

You turn on your heels when his sister-in-law, fine as ever, says your name, “We should go before she gets pissy.” You tell him cheekily, taking his hand in yours, and you’re so big now he can’t believe it. A whole lot of tit, hip, and your ass ain’t too shabby either. Leon’s justification is that he’s only a man, can't help himself when he sees a pretty girl, even if said girl is his niece. He’s an honest guy, gotta give his brother props for marrying such a smokeshow, even more credit for knocking her up. ‘Cause she popped out an even hotter girl, younger, brighter, and your tits sit prettier.

Their family stands on crumbling foundations, when he’s around his brother, Leon’s five seconds away from blowing his brains out at any given moment. He doesn’t know why people question his suicidal tendencies, he’s more than willing to show them. Snow crunches under his boots as he navigates the path leading up to the front door. The layer of glossy red paint has chipped away to reveal the mahogany beneath. It’s been that long, huh?

“I’m in college now, I have my licence and everything, uncle, I wanted to visit you in D.C. but I couldn’t get ahold of you,” You chatter to him, tugging at your laces and propping your shoes up on the shelf near the door, make the move to grab his suitcase, but Leon swiftly moves it aside. “I can carry it, I’m a big girl now.”

“No, you’re not,” Leon frowns, to him you’re a baby. An undeveloped prefrontal cortex and a soft spot on the top of your head. Yeah, you got a rack now, sure, he wants to fuck you now - doesn’t change a thing.

“Okay, well did you bring me a present?” You trail after him, and you really are still a baby.

“Yeah, you’re my favourite girl, I bought you lots.” He’s not sure if you’ll like it. Colouring books, dolls, plastic jewellery. He’s a bit of an idiot. Didn’t think about how long it’s been.

“Can I open them now?” You seat yourself next to him on the couch, knee bumping his.

“Later, pumpkin, I promise.”

“I want to transfer to Washington.” Wine trickles over the edge of your cup, Leon soaks it up with a napkin, dabs at your face when a rivulet dribbles down your chin.

His brother’s knocked out in their dad’s old armchair, it’s beyond saving, but he’s cheap. Your mom retired to bed a while back, they argued over something trivial, a cheeseboard or some shit, and with that it leaves the two of you.

“Yeah? You got friends out there or what?”

“No, but you’re there, uncle.” You grin, batting your lashes so pretty he gets without popping a viagra or two. Three. He needs three minimum. “I could come stay with you, right?”

Fuck no, under no circumstance should he be allowed within fifty feet of you. And here Leon is, bumping knees, brushing fingers like you’re lovesick teens on a first date. That’s just not right, is it? He’s a decrepit old man on his way to getting a senior bus pass, and he’s your uncle and all. Can’t really go around popping boners over family members.

“I work too much.” Leon says coolly, sweat dripping from his temple, drumming his fingers against the table. “Hey, you wanna open your presents?”

“Yes!” You nod with wild enthusiasm, like a bobblehead, cute ones you keep on the dashboard. Leon would love to take you home with him, display you on the mantle like a China doll, show you off like some rare artefact. Just can’t, he’d end up doing something awful, peeking in on you showering— or worse he’d start sleepwalking, get into your room- “Go get them then, uncle.”

The paper is pink, the shade you used to adore as a young girl, the colour you’ve since painted over in your room. He got that professionally wrapped, big bow on it and all. Leon’s not good at making things look pretty. It’s easier to assemble a gun than it is to wrap presents. Your name is scrawled on the tag in cursive writing that belongs to none other than Claire, she insisted on doing so, felt inclined after seeing his chicken-scratch.

“It’s for me, you shouldn’t have, uncle!” You snatch it out of his hands, Jesus, had more manners when you were a kid. Once you tear through the paper, you blink down at the plastic princess costume jewellery. Clip-on earrings, fluffy mules that are much too tiny, the whole lot. “Oh, wow, well, it sure is nice.”

“Pumpkin,” Leon starts, “It slipped my mind that you’re a big girl now, I wasn’t thinkin’ and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You placate him with your smile, “I’m just glad you’re here.” Cheesy, still makes him swoon.

“We can go shopping ‘fore I go back, I’ll buy you whatever, yeah?”

“I don’t need that,” You shake your head, eyes flitting from his lower half then to his lips. He’s making shit up in his head now. It’s late, Leon should go to sleep, doesn’t wanna start kissing on you and end up in court. “Oh, you’re going already?”

“I’m tired, pumpkin.” My dick is so hard it’s cutting off all blood flow to my brain, my pants are squeezing it so tight I’m gonna contract sepsis and that shit will fall straight off, I don’t want my dick to fall off, pumpkin, hope you can understand my reasoning. Leon hopes you can see the desperation in his eyes, that you can see the sentiment he’s trying to get across.

The bed creaks with his weight, and it’s the same dusty, bed-bug ridden shit his brother’s had for years. He jerks off, blows his load on his stomach, too worn out to clean it up. Falls asleep with his hand down his pants. Then Leon starts having wet dreams like he’s twenty-one again, of your petal lips, of your hands on his dick, your tits, how your thighs look when you sit. Warmth engulfs his cock, and it’s so real, he’s so sure you’re right there, sucking him off like a good girl. You’re cute like a sex doll, and it’s unfair that he has to put on this uncle act. Used to come natural to him when you were a kid, but it’s just different.

Only when Leon lifts his hand does he come into contact with skin, with hair, and a human. At first, he thinks it’s the dog, one of the three. Then he feels small hands parting his thighs further, the familiarity of your smile warming his skin.

“Pumpkin.” Leon rasps, and it’s not quite warning, just a tone that says keep going, but this is fucked up, doesn’t mean I don’t want it though. He thanks you for making the first move.

You pull off with a wet pop, kissing along his Apollo’s belt. “I want to come to D.C. and stay with you,” You say between fervid kisses, “I want to be with you, uncle, you’re handsome and I like you.” Your confession is feverish, he wonders if you realise the weight of your words. Can’t go around telling lonely old men that you like ‘em.

“I’m your uncle, pumpkin.” Leon states simply, ‘cause he’s an adult and he’s collected, but you can keep pumping his dick like that, he really don’t mind.

“No one would know,” You kiss the sticky tip, pre smeared over your lips like lip gloss, tongue poking out to taste him, dipping into his leaky slit. “I could be your girlfriend.” Leon doesn’t even know you, he knows the little girl you once were.

Leon’s too old for that shit. Girlfriend boyfriend talk. “I’m too old to be dating, pumpkin.” He cradles the back of your head with his calloused hand, guides you to base of his shaft, your tongue tracing the vein that runs along the underside of his cock.

“Yeah, but you’re not too old to marry me, are you?” You’re a clever girl, giving him a cheeky smile as you sit up and clamber into his lap.

“What’s gotten into you, pumpkin?” Don’t stop, pumpkin. Same thing. He hopes his dick says enough, standing proud as you lift your hips, wet hole stretching to accommodate his fat tip. Leon can’t see your face, but he shuts his eyes and thinks about it, how your lips would part so pretty, and you’d toss your head back, sweat making your skin all shiny.

“I just really like you, uncle.” One way ticket out of this shitty town, away from his shitry brother, away from your narc bitch of a mom, free food, free housing - Leon understands your motive. Truly, he does, and he can’t find it in himself to give a damn. If you pretend to love then it matters all the same.

“Okay, then sit on it, pumpkin.” Leon urges, firm hands finding purchase on your hips, forcing you down on his cock till you take all of him to the hilt. The head bumps your cervix, and Leon is in love with you. Thank fuck he came back home, thank god, thank Claire for pushing him to the point of booking a flight. “You wanna marry me?”

“I told you, didn’t I? Promised I was gonna marry you when I was a kid.” You press your tits flush to his chest, lips ghosting Leon’s. “I wanna marry you so bad, uncle, you’re all I want.” And Leon can’t help himself, doesn’t mean to let go so early, the coils of heat in his belly turn searing, and he empties himself into you with a groan. The quiet noise of disappointing you let out as his cock softens inside of you is adorable.

“You gotta get used to that if you marry me, I’m old now.” He strokes your head, holds you tight, refuses to let go now that he’s got you.

“I can deal with it, uncle, as long as I get to be your wife.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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momolady · 4 months

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Jasper the Bugbear

First story of the year and I'm giving ya'll a double decker one to set off the year right! This story feature intrigue, espionaige, fucking over the rich, and a cozy bookstore featuring a very handsome bugbear. Female Main Character: Male Monster (both cis)

The letter arrived first thing in the morning, delivered into my hands by someone who whisked away as quickly as they appeared. I had been hunkered down in this small town waiting on this for a while now.

“Geez,” I mumbled over the letter. “Who did they let write this thing?” I squinted over the paper, trying to decipher some of the illegible handwriting. I scoffed, pulling back and rubbing the bridge of my nose. I’d been restless waiting for this thing to come in. I had been placed here for a while now in an attempt to blend in. I posed myself in town, scouting things out, selling trinkets under the guise of charity. I was growing bored with it, not many of the people I had been charged with finding were the type to just go out into the market.

“Dear Caranina,” the letter started off.

“Not my name,” I grumbled. In a bit of spite, I took my own quill and scraped it out, writing ‘Carina’ over it.

“We know you have been waiting long to wehdhjfjfhshj from us. It has taken us quite a while to jshdjhkfjihf and ahdfhrjhuidhh in order to assure your mission runs smoothly.”

You scoffed under your breath. “Were they writing this letter under siege?”

“The festival coming up is the start. While the festival is important there is also a banquet the the aedkfehkjekhkdj family of the ajhdhfkjhdjkd holds every year. It is important that you Caranina-” I scratched that out again, “-must attend the jkfgkjjfeuedhus banquet. This may require you attaining a date from those on the guest list. We have provided to you a guest list, sent to us from another scout in the city.”

“Please let someone else have written that list,” Iyou muttered under myyour breath.

“We have provided it below for you.”

IYou leaned back in Myyour chair and rubbed the bridge of my nose up and down. I took in a deep breathbreat to quelel the frustration bubbling in my gut. “It’s fine. It’s fine, surely I can read one of them.”

“It is imperative you find your way into this party. We will contact you again soon with details of our target, most of which should already be known to you. Warmest regards hdfjjfdkhfeljirorhfdhjjd.”

“Great, I’ll have to tell hdfjjfdkhfeljirorhfdhjjd their hand writing sucks,” I mumbled under my breath.

Below was the supposed list of names, most, if not all of them, were illegible and wonky. I could only make out a few of them. I recognized one, a miracle in its own right. The fellow worked at a bookstore in town. Jasper Synclayr Humbeclaw, a bugbear, and a real smart guy type who seemed to have his fingers in a lot of pies and has done well for himself financially. His intellect could easily be mistaken due to his imposing figure. But I can’t help but think that is why the upper echelon like him so much. An oddity is one thing, an educated oddity is another.

I walked into his bookstore first thing that morning. It was dark outside still, the sun had risen but the clouds had not parted and were growing heavier and thicker by the moment. I could smell the rain that was to come, and I knew if it came, I could extend my visit with Jasper that much longer without it seeming odd.

“I thought I heard the bell.”

I looked up from the book in my hand to see Jasper standing there. Tall, imposing, and dressed very well. His fur was well groomed, his beard trimmed to give the illusion of an extra sharp jawline. Thick brows that gave an air of distinguished intelligence. He certainly looked the part of a bookstore keep.

“Good morning.” He set a thick stack of books down upon the counter. “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

Just you, I thought to myself. “No, thank you.” I was at least sincere there. “I wanted to look around for a bit. I’ve always walked by the shop but I’ve never been inside.” I smiled politely, at least I didn’t have to fake much. The guild knew what it was doing, sending me in after all.

Jasper nodded, gently taking off his glass. “Yes, I’ve seen you around the last few weeks. You’ve been selling jewelry around town, haven'tahven’t you?”

“Prayer beads and religious charms,” I corrected with a bright smile. “Something to send back to the monastery.” A tiny lie. I was keeping the money.

He nodded, using a small cloth to wipe off his glasses. “What’s the monastery?”

I thought quickly. “Esmeraude Monastery. It’s far, far up north. Very snowy, very cold.” I wasn’t lying when I said it was going to Esmeraude, it’s my last name, and I did live up north as a child.

Jasper placed his glasses back on. “Sounds like a beautiful place,” he chuckled softly. “Well, don’t let me bother you. Books are meant to be perused, so enjoy yourself. Should you need any help, I’ll be around.” He picked up the stack of books and walked out behind the counter, disappearing behind a row of mahogany shelves.

Thunder rumbled outside and I smiled excitedly. The bigger the storm, the more likely I would have to linger inside. Not that I would mind, there were worse placesd to get trapped in than a bookstorebook store.

I wandered around to appear nonchalant at first. I looked through books, easing my way closer to where Jasper was working. I found him close to the back, taking books down from a shelf he was cleaning. Thunder growled low in the distance again, and Jasper turned his head slightly, spotting me.

“Sounds like a storm is coming,” he says.

“Such things do happen when one is busy,” I tutted. “I hope you don’t mind me getting caught here if it does.”

“Not at all. I would hate for a lovely lady such as yourself to get caught in that mess.” He wiped down the top of a book and sets it back upon the shelf.

I was a bit surprised by his comment. It made my cheeks flush ever so slightly. “Thank you.” I inched in even closer. “Would be a shame if the rain continued into the festival though.”

“True,” he sighed. “The people do look forward to it.” He turned a book over in his hands, inspecting the cover as if something was wrong. “Have you ever attended the festival here? It’s quite the event.” He set the book back upon the shelf after his thorough inspection.

“Afraid not. This is my first time here. I am excited to attend and see everything first hand for myself.” I reached for the exact same book as Jasper, causing our hands to collide. I notice how large his are, in comparison to mine. It shouldn’t have been surprising, after all, he stood head and shoulders over me. But his hands, to my surprise, were quite marvelous.

Jasper gently recoiled. “I beg your pardon, Miss.”

“No harm done.” I took the book, opening the pages. “Cara.”

His brow pinched.

“My name. You don’t need to call me Miss,” I chuckled.

He nodded, a slight smile appearing on his lips that curved up past his tusks. “Nice to meet you, Cara.” The way he said my name had a low, deep growl to it. My reaction of excited heartbeats surprised me.

I ducked back down into the book to hide my blush, but perhaps that would help me. “I heard someone say there was a banquet at the festival. I’m sure that's the highlight of the event.”

“Well, for some I’m sure,” he said hesitantly.

I looked up from my book. “What do you mean? Is the town full of horrible cooks?”

His smile returned, brighter and larger. He laughed and shook his head as for the first time he turned to fully face me. “There is a banquet, just for a select few I am afraid.”

“Which select?” I asked knowingly, offering him back the book in my clutches.

He took the book, his fingers brushing against mine again. “From tThe sound of your tone, I take it you can already tell.”

“The big wigs of the town have their own celebration away from the commoners?” I glanced back, seeing that rain hadhas begun splattering against the window.

“Would you want them to mingle?” Jasper said with a laugh.

A slight twinge of resentment came from that remark. Whether he was joking or trying to make some commentary, it came off wrong. “Are you suggesting the two should not? Because you are talking to the wrong person when it comes to such things.”

The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and the way his broad shoulders tensed I could tell I had struck a frightened nerve. “No I-”

“It’s a shame to me that there is such disparity as to create a sense of them and us,” I continued. “That money and class should separate people who are all the same when laid open. What good is wealth when there is suffering of your own kind? It is a shame. A sham really. A lie told to people to make them feel superior, when any number of the supposed wealthy are probably worse and more classless than the supposed brutes and commoners they’re trying to separate themselves from.”

His eyes are glassy, wide and surprised.

I huffed and shook my head. “If you let it, money will take your soul. I fully believe it!”

Jasper hung his head, looking disparaged. “I am sorry, Mis…Cara. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“You live and work in a part of the town that’s profitable, that’s marked in high regard by these elites. I suppose you wouldn’t know what to mean.”

It was quietquite for a long moment and the storm came in, with howling winds and growling thunder to fill the silence.

“You’re right,” Jasper let out a breathy laugh. “It has been a long time since I looked beyond my own comfortable place. I should know better than to joke.”

I gave him a soft look. “At least you can recognize . Iit.” There was something about him, I’m not sure, but I do think I could like him.“I hope I didn’t frighten you too badly. You looked like a kitten being barked at.”

Jasper smiled. “Hard lessons are my favorite to learn. Sometimes a fellow needs to be reeducated, I should thank you for the fright.”

My heart leapt into a quicker pace, and a genuine grin grew. Oh no. Perhaps I already do like him. “Think nothing of it,” I laughed it off. “In my line of work, it’s a constant thought.”

“I’m sure.” He knelt to get something from the floor then stood back erect. “Do you have any of your wares with you? Perhaps I could sell some here in the shop. I’ll match whatever is sold so you can send double back to your monastery.”

“Oh uh-” Guilt hit me like a sack of bricks. “No. Uhm…it wouldn’t oh-” What do I say to this? Think Cara think!

“Or-” Jasper’s tone went distant and I saw in his golden eyes that he became lost in thought. “I know there is always some sort of argument over the charities my friends give to. They’re always trying to one up each other.”

I held my breath, surely he wasn’t going to suggest what I was thinking. “Friends?” My voice cracked.

Jasper’s glance twitched my way, and his usual expression returned. “Oh sorry. The banquet coming up, there’s always some form of competition about what charity they’re giving too.”

I frowned at him and he shrugged.

“I know. It’s ridiculous. But it’s something they sincerely try to one up each other on. Perhaps you could take advantage of that.”

It wouldn’t be the only thing I’d take advantage of that evening. But wait…what? Did he really suggest it?

“Come with me. I usually don’t have a date for these evenings, so it might be fun.”

I was gobsmackedgodsmacked. How did it turn out to be that easy? I thought I’d have to seduce him first! “You’re serious?” I gawked. “You’re inviting me, just like that?”

Jasper just smiled. “If it helps your monastery.”

My gut was frothing in confusion over how to feel about this. But, I succeeded, I would be going to banquet!

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Jasper turned back to the shelf, loading it up with books again. “Don’t think of it that way. You’ll be my guest. I’d be honored to have such a lady as you with me that evening. Besides, I call them friends, but I do find them all quite boring.”

I bit down on my lip. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Jasper chuckled and looked back over his shoulder at me. “I have a sense about these things, Ms. Cara.”

The blush rose up to my cheeks, tingling slightly from his expression alone. I can’t catch feelings for Jasper, not when this mission is against the people he associates with. Bad move, Cara, you know better!

Despite this, I decided it would be smart to gather knowledge from Jasper. After all, if I was going to this banquet, I wanted to know what I was up for. I could gather information about him, send back some of my findings in advance. There were a few of the banquet attendees we were after, so anything and everything was helpful.

I returned to Jasper’s bookstore the next day and the next under the guise of nervousness for the party. He seemed glad to see me each day, inviting me in, chatting with me, I even helped him dust shelves and tend to misplaced books. He shared tea with me, even invited me for dinner one evening.

“I feel I am taking advantage,” I told him. It was the truth. I was starting to grow a gnawing sense of guilt. But this was my mission after all, and it was my fault for growing attached to Jasper.

“Not at all. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend over that I enjoyed.” Jasper filled my tea cup then returned to the stove to deal with the food.

I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment. “You don’t like any of these people you deal with, do you?” I finally asked. “The way you’ve spoken about them recently… I’m sorry if I’ve taken this all wrong, but you don’t sound very fond of them.”

Jasper sighed heavily. “There is some truth to what you say. Most of them I know would rather take me or leave me. Some I don’t have much respect for.” He covered a pot then came to sit back down at the table with me.

“Then why associate with them?”

Jasper scoffed. “You want to know the truth? To keep them coming to the shop so I can get their money.”

I smiled despite myself. “So you’re playing the long con?”

Jasper had been raisingrising his teacup to his lips but he set it back down. “Not a con, exactly. They are getting exactly what they pay for but-” He huffed and took off his glasses. “I know if I don’t associate with them, create some sort of fashion out of the experience, I wouldn’t make ends meet, let alone maintain the life I do have.”

“A grifter then,” I teased. Under the table I felt his foot tap against my leg in a playful kick. It was a move I was not expecting, nor was I prepared for the reaction it would give me.

“We do what we can to survive,” Jasper said in a low, whisper-like murmur. “And I do not wish to go back to my former method of survival.”

This shift in tone bristled the hairs on the back of my neck. “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to ask for a follow up.” I gave him a soft smile to urge his story forward. “What was survival for you before the bookstore?”

Jasper glanced away, his eyes flickering towards the door to the next room. He stood and waved his hand for me to follow. “I’ll show you.” He took me into a parlor-like room with nice furniture and everything was a varying shade of deep green or gold. On the wall over the stone fireplace was a sword of grand size. The blade glinted gold in the light of the fire, and the handle was wrapped up, covered by thick woven bands.

Now, I am not a strong person at all, by far I’m the weakest of my group physically. The sword on the wall was daunting for me, but I could tell it would give most members of my guild some extreme effort to raise. This was the sword of no mere fighter. No, this sword belonged to another type of creature altogetherall together.

“Your words from when we first met reminded me of what I came from,” Jasper muttered. “I was ashamed to think about what I had turned into.”

I turned my attention to his stony expression. “Don’t say that. We all make changes in life.”

“Yes but, it is a fool who forgets where they come from, Cara.” His voice becomes a low, almost angry growl.

I reached out to him, taking hold of his hand and squeezed it extra hard. He turned to me, looking at me with glassy eyes. He rubbed his large hand over his face, sniffling and trying to regain himself.

“You obviously remember,” I said to coax him.

His hand squeezed mine back. “I am forgetting something at this moment, Cara.”

I furrowed my brow and tilted my head up to him in confusion.“Which is?”

“How to be a gentleman. I almost bent down and kissed you like the ruffian I once was,” he said with a laugh.

My stomach knotted up, not in a bad way, but one of expectancy. “You could ask me.” The words poured from me, I didn’t mean to be so blunt.

Jasper chuckled, smoothed his beard into a point again. “I shouldn’t.”

I shrugged. “Try me.”

Jasper turned to face me, placing his hands first upon my shoulders then moving one up along the side of my neck and onto my cheek. His palm was so big and warm, it was amazing as he touched me. I shivered a bit, excited and conscious of what this could lead to.

“Cara,” he said with a shaky breath, “I am going to kiss you now.”

“I dare you then,” I giggled.

Jasper began to lean down towards me and I was stunned. I close my eyes, accepting his kiss. His tusks were cool against my skin, his fur was soft. I reached for him, touching the sides of his neck then slowly moving my palms over his broad chest.

When he pulled back, both of us were a touch breathless. He moved in to kiss me again, but he gasped and pulled back. I looked up angrily, but he moved off swiftly to the kitchen. “Excuse me, Ms. Cara! But our meal.”

“Oh!” I followed after him. “Right! Dinner.” I laughed as I returned to my seat at the table. I was flustered, fidgeting with my robe as I tried to distract myself from the thoughts blooming in my head. This was bad. I wasn’t supposed to be falling for Jasper. —

It was the night of the banquet, and I was considering turning Jasper down. It didn’t feel right to go. I’d made a mistake by possibly falling for Jasper. Each time I kissed him, the guilt was unbearable. It almost came to a head a few days before the kisses began turning into something much more. His storage room was small, warm, and dimly lit. I’d been helping him find a certain stash of books and we’d gotten smashed together.

His body was close, quite literally on top of mine. He was a mountain of a man, but I felt so safe, so strangely turned on by the moment. The room grew hotter, our bodies were pressed so tightly together you couldn’t fit a page between us. Jasper was hard against my hip and I was growing wet.

Jasper growled low in my ear, sending ripples through my body. He kept rutting himself into me so I could feel the entirety of him. He was thick and I could only imagine what that thing would do to me. His hands pushed up my skirt, touching bare skin, groping my rear. He growled again against my neck as his fingers slipped between my thighs. I touched him, grabbing hold of the shaft and stroking slowly. His voice became more hungry, so desperate. I wanted that voice to come out louder, deeper. I undid his pants, taking that warm, thick cock into my palm.

“Cara,” he snarled.

I nodded, breathing hard as I took both hands to hold him. “Like that?”

He grunted, pushing me into the wall as my fingers wrapped tightly around him, pleasuring him so deeply he began to shiver.

“Big thing like you could devour me, couldn't you? Those teeth…those hands…could rip me apart-” I whimpered.

“Cara-” he moaned again.

“I want you to,” I moaned, leaning up close to his face. I saw his eyes and I suddenly went still, my body was wracked with guilt. But the bell rang at the same moment, so Jasper mistook it for another kind of fear, and we left there.

I paced back and forth in my place, thinking about what I should do. If Jasper found out what I was up to could he forgive me? Would he understand? Or worse, would he hate me?

There was a knock on my door and all blood drained from my face. I approached the door, peering through a crack to try and see who was outside.

“It’s me, Cara,” Jasper announced with joy in his voice.

My mouth flopped open. “I was meeting you!” I fussed.

“I know, but I have a surprise for you.”

My guts churned. No, no, no, not a surprise you big fool! I slowly cracked open the door, peering up at him. “I’m uh…I’m not exactly ready yet, Jasper.”

Jasper had a smile that stretched past his tusks. “That’s fine. I have something for that anyways.”

I let him, silently stepping aside as he came into my room. His eyes darted around before looking back at me, his huge grin not fading. “You’re not nervous about tonight, are you?” He asked.

“A little,” I played into it.

He came to me as I closed the door, taking hold of my hand. “I’ve got you. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, if I know anything about you Cara, it’s that you could run circles around them effortlessly.”

I smiled weakly and rubbed at my arm. “Thanks, Jasper.”

He squeezed my hand then reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. I was so nervous I hadn’t noticed how sharpley he was dressed. His fur was combed, his beard trimmed, he wore that mix of green and gold that looked so good on him. He was so handsome.

“I got you a present.” He offereda small box to me. “Something special to wear tonight.”

Why did he do this? Why did I have to hurt so badly from a small box? I took it into my hand, opening it up to see the drop earrings inside.

“They’re made from moonstone. I saw them in a shop and they made me think of you.” The moonstones were shaped like water drops, topped with silver and a single red gem in the center. They were beautiful, I loved them instantly.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I murmured.

Jasper came forward, taking one of the earrings in one hand then holding my head with the other. “I know. But the moment I saw them, I wanted to see you wearing them.”

Those words mingled with his touch made me sigh out of pleasure. He slipped the hook into my ear then stepped back and repeated it with the other ear. Jasper took a step back to look, and I saw on his face the same expression from the storage room.

“How do they look?” I murmured.

He nodded, keeping his mouth shut.

“Jasper-” my voice caught in my throat as I walked towards him. I placed my hands upon his chest. He kissed me, sweeping me off my feet. I didn’t fight it. Perhaps if we carried on we would miss the banquet and he would never find out why I was here, why I was with him.

I clung to him, leading him to believe in my desperation. I wanted him to kiss me longer, deeper, I needed him to grow just like that day in the storage room. He pulled away though and gently set me down upon the ground.

“I should let you finish getting ready,” he cleared his throat.

My mouth flopped open and closed. I then shut it tight and nodded. “Yeah. I should-” An idea struck me and I took a few steps back. “I need to change mostly.” I undid my clothing, letting it slip off my shoulders then down around my ankles. His eyes grew wide and his nostrils flared.

I smirked with some smugness as I saw the fire behind his glasses. I touched the earrings then dragged my fingers tip down my body in a slow agonizing way. His eyes lingered the entire time.

He finally jerked, looking away and putting on his airs. “Cara! What are you doing? The banquet!”

“They prefer if you’re fashionably late, don’t they?” I walked towards him, feeling less guilty if I tricked him this way. I slid my hand up his leg, rubbing my palm to his groin. “Please, Jasper?” I whispered.

He growled low, and that sound sent wicked little shivers through my body. I continued to touch him, grinding my palm into him as he began to stiffen. His strong hands gripped onto my bare shoulders and I took off his pants. I felt bad they would get wrinkled, but I needed this now. I could throw myself into passion, to desire, and forget how I’ve used him. I could tell him the truth later, once we missed the banquet and my job was ruined.

I grabbed hold of his cock, leading him over to the bed. I pushed him down upon it and crawled on top of him. He looked so beautiful all made up, and I was going to ruin that too.

“Cara, where did this come from?” Jasper gasped.

I smirked down upon him, rubbing myself against him. “From the moment I saw you.” I gasped breathlessly. “And that other day in the storage room. I’ve not stopped aching for you.”

Jasper grabbed hold of my hips, grinding his teeth the more he felt me. His deep moans echoed through my brain, driving me forward to keep going. It was working, I just hoped I could keep him entertained long enough. I looked down, taking hold of the base of his shaft. I caught his eyes, making him watch as I rubbed his tip against me. He was so thick, could I really take him?

“Easy,” he grunted.

“I’ll do as I please.” I began to lower myself down onto him. I lost my breath for a moment, then I let out a pleasurable cry. Jasper was moaning, wriggling slightly the more I took.

He was deep inside me, and I forgot everything except every touch of him upon me. His great big hands began roaming up my body, his large form was held tight underneath me, and inside me, oh by the gods, he was so deep inside me.

“I’m dizzy, Cara,” he snarled.

“Not too sensitive are you?” I said with a smirk. I circled my hips, taking him and grinding him inside me. I wanted to tease him, but it was backfiring! I’m sure I was feeling it more than he was.

“Not that…just…so long,” he grunted between breaths.

“Then maybe I should have started off with something easier,” I panted. “Maybe I should-” I started to pull away from him, knowing I had to waste my time wisely.

Jasper grabbed a hold of me and I was stunned for a moment by the force. He pushed me down on my stomach, anchoring his large body over top of me. He slid his cock between my cheeks and held his hands upon my wrist.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled with a dark tone.

“Listen to yourself,” I panted. “You almost scared me.”

His cock slipped between my thighs, rutting against me again. “You can’t just give me the sweetest treat in the world and pull it away. Let me savor it a bit longer.”

“I wasn’t.” I lost my voice and all my breath as he pushed back inside me. My smile became goofy upon my lips and I had to moan into the bed.

“Yes.” He released one of my hands in order to grab my hair. “Just give me a few moments. Oh Car-” his voice cracked. “I need to feel you.”

That was fine by me. He could have done anything to me right then and I would have been okay. It had been quite a while for me, and I wanted Jasper all this time. I trembled, squeezing tight around his shaft as he made small, gentle pushes.

“Oh fuck,” his deep voice rattled in my brain. “We’ll be so late. But you’ll be too full to eat anything at the banquet.” His other hand freed my wrist and he rose up taller behind me.

Oh my god! Why did that sound so hot?

He pushed in deeper, pulling out while his hand clapped down hard upon my ass. I cried out against the bed, it was too much, too good. He spanked me again as he pushed back inside and I laughed in a crazy tone.

He smoothed his soft palms over my cheeks, pushing them together then squeezing them. He pulled out again and rolled me over, laying me so I had to look up at him. His eyes glazed over upon seeing me, his mouth hung open slightly as drool collected around the base of his tusk.

I propped myself up on my elbows and the earrings dangled against my neck. “Jasper, I have something I need to tell you.”

He spread my thighs wide open. “I do as well.” He laid his cock against my belly, rubbing himself there.

“I…I can’t go to the banquet.”

Jasper licked his tusk. “I know. Not like this anyways.” He eased himself back inside me and I whined quite loudly.

“No…not like-” My eyes began to roll to the back of my head. “You don’t…oh!”

He pushed my head down into the bed, turning it so my ear was facing up towards him. He licked around the edge, snarling so close to me it was like my skin would vibrate off my bones.

“I need you now. I can’t stop. But I need to go to this banquet.” He bit my neck then my shoulder.

“I do too, but I-” I shivered again and my mind went blank.

“I’m an informant,” he whispered before delivering a mighty blow that rocked me, knocking around any thought I had and squashing it. My body was inflamed, tingling and crackling all over. I lost my breath, my vision for a moment.

Jasper pulled away, leaving me heaving heavily as he went to pour himself some water. He stood by the window, his back turned to me as I rose from the bed.

“Jasper-”

“These people, I need them Cara. Not in the way you think.”

I was afraid to stand up, I’m not even sure how he was. Wait…he didn’t finish! I brushed my hair out of my face. “Who are you an informant for?”

“I’ve never met them, just the fellow I meet with. But back before, back when I had nothing, they gave me the footing to start my business and live the life I wanted. I just had to pay them back. I was afraid of telling you. You work so hard…you’re such a-”

“Stop,” I snapped. I managed to stand and walk to the desk, taking out the letters I had been given about my mission. I looked them over then back at him. “I think I know who it is.”

Jasper’s thick brow furrowed when he saw the handwriting on the letters. “How do you know when you can’t even read the handwriting?”

I dropped the letters back onto the desktop and the two of us looked at one another for a long while.

“You were using me?” He asked quietly.

“At first,” I murmured. “But I couldn’t-” I shook my head and looked away. “I was trying to miss the whole evening by…by fucking you. Which I wanted to do regardless, mind you!” I looked into his eyes, seeing a smile he was trying to hide.

Jasper unbuttoned his waistcoat and took it off with his shirt. He stood naked there at the window, and I was breathless again. “Why did you?”

I couldn’t tell if he was mad. “Because I-” I took a step closer to him. “Because I care. A lot actually.”

Jasper took hold of me and set me upon the windowsill. “We’re working together now,” he whispered, gently pushing aside my hair and burying his face into my neck. “Informant and spy.” he eased himself back inside me and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

The glass was cold against my back, but I could barely tell it was there. I still wasn’t sure if he was angry, but his body and mine melted together and I could sense he was nothing if not elated. I grasped onto him, letting him do as he wished to come. I wanted him to. I needed him too.

At the banquet I was a bit delirious. I gazed off into the distance, but Jasper snapped me back into attention.

“Remember why you’re here,” he whispered.

“Right, donations.” I drank a dark red punch filled with berries and nectar. “I’m still trying to process this.”

He smirked. “What, our lovemaking?”

I hissed at him then looked over the crowd. “No. That’s your the-” I held my breath as some people walked by us. “The you-know-what.”

“You still have to apologize for trying to use me,” he said with a smarmy tone. “But I’ll forgive you.”

I pouted up at him, setting my glass down as a group gathered around us. Jasper was listening, taking in everything while I put on the show and did the work. I managed to make quite a bit of coin off these fools as they tried to one up themselves.

“You should come to my home, I can donate a lot of old knick knacks around the house my wife keeps collecting,” one man blurted out without much thought.

To my chagrin, it was one of the men I needed to get close to. I reached back, taking hold of Jasper’s hand. “I would be honored, sir!”

I got more invites after that, others who continued to try and show off to each other rather than try to perform a good act. As they dissipated when the music began, I took Jasper’s hand and kissed each soft pad on his palm.

Jasper took the bite of food he was eating and set it aside. “What was that for?” He chuckled.

“A small start to our victory.” My expression melted as I looked up at him. “If you still wish to work with me, that is.”

He took my hand as well, kissing it in return. “Partners from here on out. Like it was all meant to be.”

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster lemon #monster lover #writing #monster x human #monster x female #bugbear #bugbear boyfriend #monster fuqqer #monster kink #monster smut #momolady monsters #my writing

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Note

Congrats on 5k! For the request thing— what about Price, doing some wedding/engagement ring shopping? He wants something special, and something perfect! I think some of the other boys would like to propose with a family ring, but he REALLY wants something nice for his lover, even if she'd be happy with something small and simple.

Give that man extra grey hairs trying to choose between tiny, miniscule details that only a trained jeweler would notice.

—The Perfect One

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

The Captain’s lips thinned and once more the Jeweler’s face fell with an inward sigh of disappointment.

“Next,” John places the ring back down to the glass counter, the rows and rows of engagement bands inside lit up by background lighting.

“Sir, it’s nearly closing time. I don’t think you’re going to find one today—” Blue eyes stare and don’t blink at the man behind the counter; with nearly three solid seconds of eye-to-eye contact.

The Jeweler clears his throat.

“L…Let me go check in the back.” John grunts and the man scurries out of sight after locking up the previous ring.

They just weren’t right, the Captain admits as he sighs long and rubs a hand over his beard, scratching at his cheek. Some rings were too simple, others too gaudy or far too intricate—there had to be that perfect medium somewhere.

But hell, this was the last jeweler in the city. John scowls at himself; glaring down at the glass and at the hundreds of options inside; all having been taken out and inspected as if they were bombs out in the field. The epitome of no stone left unturned. No man left behind.

No ring left behind.

“Bloody fuckin’...” The Captain trails off, harshly grunting his anger.

If you could see the blatant annoyance in John’s eyes, you’d laugh and take him by the face, kissing his chin before speaking about blood pressure. As if he wasn’t constantly one bullet away from getting his brains shot out of his skull.

It was the thought that counted.

The man closes his small eyes and tilts his head to the side, fingers tapping the counter once.

He just…he wanted it to be everything you would want. All he needed was a plain band, truth be told, but for you, he wanted that ring to show everything that you’d been through together. The good and the bad—past and future. An even mix of love and devotion swathed around your finger to join you both in a promise you’d already been keeping for years.

And none of these blasted bits of metal and stone were good enough.

“If I’d of known it’d be this much trouble,” John grumbles, looking outside at the steadily darkening sky. “I would have just made my own, yeah?”

But it was too late to change career paths, God forbid.

Yet the man really wonders if it’s the ring that’s bothering him or the fact that he’s nervous to finally bend a knee. He knows he shouldn’t be, rationally there’s little chance you’d refuse—this wasn’t exactly a new relationship by any means. You’d both taken your time with things over the course of years.

This was just a matter of when and not if.

Still, the sink in his gut didn’t let up.

“Here,” the Jeweler returns and John snaps back to the shop, moving away his clenched hands from the counter to fold them over his chest as the man brings over a small jewelry box made of reddish wood. “This is it—after you go through that,” he splays his hands in defeat and sends a painful glance John’s way. “You’ve fully gone through my entire stock. Had to dig through all of my displays to find it.”

“What’s wrong with them?” The Captain asks in curiosity, his deep accent pushing through as he grabs and opens the box with two hands—firm and not really hoping for much.

“Nothing!” The Jeweler exclaims, mildly offended. “They’re old pieces—antiques. They don’t match the rest of the designs I have out.” He blinks, thinking hard before he puffs out, saying, “They’ll cost you extra!”

John slides an unimpressed glance upward and frowns, but the rings in the box do more than he expected them to.

He blinks, slightly taken aback.

There were only two in there, swathed by their precious sides in deep navy blue silk to hold them up. The glint of gold and platinum makes John’s breath still as the Jeweler begins talking about the ring that the Captain then takes out carefully.

“Circa 1940, the mixture of gold and platinum makes a unique and yet beautiful mix of class and antiquity with this piece. I would call it Victorian in style, judging by the detail around the raw gemstone—diamond, by the way. The ring is both simple but utterly striking when you look at the finer details, Sir.”

John ignores him, large fingers delicately bringing the object closer to his eye and moving it this way and that. He even goes far enough as to place it on the counter and take a step back to gaze at it from a distance, his eyes narrowed and wrinkles pulled in.

It was stunning. But, above all…it reminded John of you.

The Captain’s lips twitch for a moment, his tension slowly dripping out of him like water.

It made him huff a chuckle, but the Jeweler had been right about this one—the ring was simple, but the deeper intricacies of carved metal built it up to a point of elegance. A reverence and dedication to the craft.

Dedication.

John slowly hums to himself, going back and picking the ring up another time. It sits in his palm, such a little thing, but, oh, so heavy. It wasn’t a shackling weight, no—it was the deep press of purpose.

John closes his hand.

“How much?”

TAGS:

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celtic-crossbow · 6 months

Text

I’d Break the Back of Love for You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), sexual situations

Summary: You have some serious appreciation for Daryl’s shoulders.

A/N: As you should, reader. As you should.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“How long will you be gone?” You asked before popping a strawberry into your mouth. Daryl had brought them home upon his return only two days prior. You didn’t ask where he found them and he didn’t offer, but he wasn't banged up so he likely didn’t risk life and limb for them. Well, anymore than he always did by going outside the safety of the Commonwealth.

He was already gathering supplies to head out again after a broadcast that Eugene had picked up on the radio. There wasn’t much to it. Just a couple of scrambled words and a lot of static. Not enough, in your opinion, for Daryl to run out and risk himself.

The archer gave you a quick look, a corner of his mouth tugging upward when he noticed the plate of strawberries by your hip. “Few days maybe.” He answered, wrapping some bread and grabbing a couple of refilled bottles of water. He placed the items next to his shirt, on the counter you were currently calling a seat.

When he scratched at his chin, your eyes followed his movements but lingered once he had dropped his hand and moved on with packing. His goatee was more of a starter beard these days, no time for trimming. It didn’t bother you. The salt-n-pepper hair felt good when scratching against the right patches of skin.

There were so many things about your archer that you could admire in that regard all day if you ever had the chance.

The obvious one being his cock. You couldn’t say it was the biggest you’d ever seen but it was definitely to be admired. The first time, back on the Greene farm, he’d pushed into you and you’d nearly came from the stretch alone. It wasn’t just about size though. The man knew how to use it to make you come apart over and over. It always made you want to giggle when you would think back to how socially stunted he had been one day and then the next, he was fucking you stupid over Hershel’s porch railing.

His hair was so long now, the waves taking off a few inches. It was well onto his back when wet. You could still remember when it was barely over his eyes. You had loved it then too. But now, when you would bathe together, you’d have him sit in front of you so you could wash it for him. You’d always end up playing with it; braiding it or carding your fingers through it. However, the best thing was how it clung to his face and neck when he was sweaty after a thorough fucking. You’d push it off of his face, letting your fingers catch on the tangles as you kissed him.

His hands were so much bigger than yours. On the few lazy mornings you were granted, when Carol would get the kids to school for you, you’d just lie there and hold your hands together. With your palm flat against his, he could bend his fingers over the tops of your own. It was easy to imagine his thick fingers inside of you. He had sent you tumbling into oblivion plenty of times with only one curling within your walls. Those hands didn’t just hold weapons; they worked magic, too.

But it was the man’s shoulders that did you in. All that lean muscle that contracted and moved as he lifted and tugged at things to pack. You’d never admit it, but the nights alone in his absence, it was the thought of your legs over those broad shoulders and his face buried in your cunt that brought you to completion over and over.

You really needed to hide any of his shirts that weren’t tank tops.

Who would’ve thought that out of any part of that man, the one that would make you almost instantly wet was his “shoulders—”

“What?”

You shook your head and looked around a bit wildly until you found his gaze and locked on. “Hmm?”

“What ‘bout my shoulders?” He asked as you lifted another strawberry toward your lips. His question had you fumbling the fruit, catching it at the last second before it could fall to the floor.

You laughed nervously. “Shoulders? What? I didn’t say—” you stuffed the entire berry into your mouth to stop your embarrassing rambling. Hopefully, he’d just let it go and keep packing.

That hope went careening out the window when he looked down at his right shoulder and then back at you, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Nah, ya definitely said somethin’ ‘bout shoulders.” He sat the canteen he had been about to fill next to the sink and started walking toward you. “Still got my hearin’, Sunshine.”

You felt heat pooling in your cheeks and…other places when he leaned into your space, a hand braced on either side of your hips. The strawberry was swallowed down with an audible gulp.

“I, uh, like your shoulders.” You whispered. Daryl laughed in the form of an exhale and leaned in closer, his lips coming to press against the side of your neck. Maintaining any sort of control was almost futile. “Daryl, you need to get packed.” You attempted to sway him but he simply hummed against your flesh.

“Whatcha thinkin’, pretty girl?”

You groaned but leaned back your head to grant him more access. “A lot of things that are gonna make you late.” He didn’t respond to that. Not verbally. He grabbed your hips and pulled your body to the edge of the countertop, your groin coming into contact with the evidence of his own arousal.

“You’re right.” He rasped against your collarbone. With one roll of his hips, you both gasped from the friction. “I guess I should be gettin’ on with packin’.” He rolled his hips again, growling against your jaw. “D’rather have those legs’a yours over these shoulders.”

You whimpered and squirmed against him, mewling when the rough fabric of his jeans grazed against your sensitive core through your thin sleep shorts and panties. That voice of his always made you putty in his hands. “I—please, Daryl.”

“M’gonna give ya whatcha need, Sunshine.” He leaned back and tapped both of your biceps. “Up.” Your arms were immediately raised and your shirt pulled over and off. The cold air against your nipples had them hardening before Daryl could even touch you.

Your small hands found his shoulders, gripping tight while he worshiped your breasts with mouth and hands. The skin of his palms was rough and calloused but that alone brought you so much pleasure. He cupped your left breast, kneading the soft mound and pinching your nipple while circling his tongue over its twin. You had never been so sensitive to a man’s touch in your life, but Daryl could play your body like an instrument.

He pulled off of your breast with a wet pop and searched out your lips, his tongue pressing through to tangle with your own.

“Lay back.” He ordered against your mouth. You did as you were told, only slightly embarrassed by how you knew your wetness was showing through your shorts. Of course, that was the first thing he noticed when he took a step back. “So wet for me an’ I’ve barely touched ya.” His thumb pressed into your clothed opening and trekked upward, earning a few panted moans and a raise of your hips.

He continued past your pussy until he reached the waistband and turned his hand to dip his fingers underneath it. Joined by his other, he pulled your shorts and panties off in slow movements, letting them fall onto the floor.

His large hands pressed into your inner thighs to open you up so wide that it bordered painful. All you could do was bite your lip and watch him. His tongue creeped across his bottom lip, and you shivered.

“Prettiest pussy there ever was.” He commented absently, releasing one of your legs so he could slide his index finger up and down your slick lips. He was rewarded with a needy whine and the sight of you clenching around nothing. With a smirk, he moved his finger straight to his mouth, not pushing it past his lips until you opened your eyes. “Sweet lil’ thing too.”

“Daryl.” You whined. You both knew you weren’t above begging. It was only a matter of whether or not he wanted to hear it this time.

“I gotcha, Sunshine. Gonna make ya feel real good, okay?”

You had zero doubt about that.

“Sit up for me.”

You planted your palms on the counter and came up to meet him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to drag him in for a kiss. He chuckled, a sound you adored, and pulled away from you to sink to one knee. A sweet kiss was pressed into your left thigh and then he was looking up at you. Oh, you were burning that sight into your memory for later. He placed his hands beneath your knees and stilled, smirking.

“You’re gonna need to hold on, pretty thing.”

You gave him a quizzical look but then he pulled you forward, his face diving into your waiting cunt as his hands quickly moved to your ass. You had just enough time to twist your fingers in his hair before he was rising from the floor.

“Oh, fuck.” You yelped, not just at the sensation of his tongue breaching your opening, but also at being six feet off the ground. How the man knew where to walk was anyone’s guess but his steps were sure. Your back pressed against the wall beside the refrigerator, giving him a little leverage to really work at your pussy in earnest.

The initial shock had worn off, now replaced by the sensations his mouth was causing and the absolute thrill of legitimately being perched on those fucking shoulders while he devoured you like a man starved.

“Fuck, that feels good.” You praised, fisting one hand in his hair while the other came up to palm the wall beside your head. He knew exactly what he was doing in every sense at that moment. You could feel the tense muscle below your thighs. His tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. His nose rubbing against your rapidly swelling clit. His beard scraping your overheated flesh.

A new wave of arousal seeped out of you and he groaned, happily lapping it up with sounds that definitely did not belong in a kitchen. The cord inside you was heating up, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, an absolutely delicious feeling of both tension and ecstasy building and yearning just below the skin.

When he slid his tongue up through your wetness to flick at your clit, you almost couldn’t stand it; desperate to cum and hear him cooing praises after he drank every drop, but also wanting to savor the delectable journey toward an inevitable mind blowing orgasm that would likely leave you unable to speak anything but his name.

“Fuck, oh, right there!” You slapped your palm once against the wall with a long, wanton moan. You wanted to grind against his face, aid in coaxing your high out of you, but he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. His grip on your ass tightened and he pressed face even closer to you, lips encircling your bundle of nerves to suck at it while his tongue worked it from inside his mouth. “Goddamn, Daryl! Fuck!”

He went back to kitten licks, tilting his head down so his nose continued to press at your pulsing nub while he slurped up any new arousal that had dripped out of your entrance.

He was killing you. And you loved it.

Daryl Dixon may have been called many things in his life, but absolute destroyer of pussy needed to be added to that list. When he wasn’t sucking your ability to think right out of your clit, maybe you could remember to call him that in front of one of your friends.

“Fuck.” You felt like you could almost cry, your orgasm not just creeping closer but sprinting. “Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna cum.” He gave your ass a hard squeeze, his way of demanding you let go.

It was gradual, a pins and needles sensation that started from where his lips pulled tightly on your clit and spread out through your limbs, causing them to begin trembling. Then it was all at once, a wave of pleasure hit you so hard that you jerked and the back of your head hit the wall while your hands pulled roughly on his hair. There were a few moments unaccounted for, your vision overtaken by darkness and stars and the distant sounds of your own screams of his name.

When you came back to yourself, your arms were dangling uselessly. You were panting while your body spasmed through the last pulses of your high. And Daryl was eagerly lapping up every drop.

Once you were completely spent, you felt one of his large hands slid up to brace the small of your back while the other lifted one of your legs from his shoulder. He switched, gripping just above your hip on that side to keep you from falling while he moved your other leg. Then you were sliding down until he stopped you just in front of his face, his lips readily pressing against yours.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, feel your own wetness smearing across your face from where it had gathered on his beard. The kiss itself was sweet and lazy and loving, whispered praises between each press of his lips. Your feet slowly touched the floor and his hands came up to cradle your face.

You wanted to melt against him and beg him not to leave you. To clean you up and take you to bed so you could surprise you both by climbing above him and riding him until he filled you over and over. That fantasy had you reaching to cup him through his pants, feeling the straining hardness for only a moment before he gently grabbed your wrist.

“Let’s take a bath an’ getcha cleaned up an’ ready for bed.”

You pulled back, frowning in confusion. “Don’t you have to leave?” You felt your heart spin when he gave you the sweetest smile; the one he gave to only you.

“Nah, need to be here.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, one side and then the other, before gently cupping your chin and kissing you. “They can send someone else.”

“You mean it?” You asked, eyes sparkling with more hope than you meant to reveal.

“Nah, lemme go an’ finish packin’.” He started to turn away but you caught one of those beautiful shoulders to easily spin him back to you. He deflected your attempt to smack him by ducking and hoisting you up over the very same shoulder you had grabbed. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, woe is me!” You laughed, kicking your legs to get out of his hold. You didn’t even remember you were still naked until he gave your ass a gentle smack as he walked up the stairs. Once at the top, you wiggled forward so you could reach and slap his ass one good time. “Hey, if that’s what happens when I say your shoulders are sexy, what would you do if I said you have a nice ass?”

He barked out a laugh that you didn’t hear often enough and used the heel of his boot to kick the door closed.

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contentloadinggg · 3 months

Text

Game of Distraction - Hozier Drabble

The way I’d give him the creamiest, soul sucking, heaven sent, sloppy, wet, back arching, begging for mercy, praying for God to take him, soul enlightening, spiritual experience head the earth has ever seen. THAT SLUTTY SWEATER TOO. GOD.

Anyways, Drabble more or less inspired by this pic. I can’t tell if this is making me more or less sane.

Summary: Andrew can’t play chess with you in his sweater. (Genderneutral! Reader) (~400 words)

Warnings: Surprisingly none, just a bit of making out towards the end and suggestive talk. No beta reading, I wrote this in 20 minutes.

This is a work of fiction and not a reflection of who Hozier is

Fic under the cut🤎

“Checkmate.”

You declared, dramatically knocking over Andrew’s castle in this very heated game of chess. The man groans in response, dropping his head on to the table.

“This isn’t fair!”

He calls into the wood of the tabletop. He pushes his long curls away from his face when he decides to lift his head back up. Meeting your eyes and seeing your amusement, he scowls.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why is it not fair, Andy?”

The man looks at you with exasperation.

“Like you don’t know.”

He replies, stiffly. You smile, learning forwards by placing your elbows on the table.

“No, I don’t. Tell me.”

Andrew sighs deeply. His eyes are getting distracted by your bare collarbones. Oh yes, he’s definitely thinking about why it’s not fair.

“Because, you’re cheating.”

His vagueness is purposeful. He doesn’t want to admit that the sight of you wearing his sweater has got him all hot beneath the collar. All oversized on you, dropping low on your shoulders. You’re gorgeous, of course. But since when is he the one to fold so easily?

“Cheating? How?”

It’s a goad. You know exactly why. Andrew stays quiet.

For one,

Two,

Three seconds.

And he’s up.

Out of his seat. Andrew is on you faster than you can replace the breath he knocks out of you. He’s practically biting rather than kissing you. Teeth scraping over your bottom lip.

You’re swift to return it. The tip of your tongue running over his bared teeth. One might call it violent. His beard gently scratches at your skin and his fingers gripping your legs. But if that’s true, It’s a crime of passion.

Andrew lifts you up onto the table. It rocks on its legs with your shared movements. The chess pieces scattering across the board and floor. The wooden pieces on the hard ground are loud, but not loud enough to make you even think about picking them up.

Bites trail down the length of your throat. Teeth pulling at your tendons, but careful not to break skin. Andrew’s only goal is to lift the blood to show a bright pink color against your skin.

Reaching the collar of the sweater. Andrew breathes out shakily. As if just recalling why this started in the first place. You tug lightly on his hair. Urging him to continue.

The man looks back up at you. A familiarly wild look in his eye.

“Let’s get this sweater off you, yeah?”

He asks, running his hands beneath it over your bare skin. Voice rough.

“What? Tired of me ‘cheating’?”

“Don’t push it.”

I revisited some old poems and that’s what inspired this lol. Just wanted to post something while I struggle with my Alex fic.

-Thad💚

#andrew hozier byrne #fanfiction #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier smut

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Daddy’s Princess Fairy

pairing: Husband!Dad!Sy x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: Sy comes home to his newborn babygirl and wife after his last ever deployment, and he’s desperate to meet his tiny twin, and get into his wife’s panties (Dilf Sy) likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Daddy’s nearly home booboo, he’ll be out here any second now” Y/n cooed bouncing her baby girl in her arms, the two month old softly snuggled against her mama, the both of them waiting at the entrance of the military base along with the other families. Her eyes tracing each body that left the aircraft, her breath hitching when she saw her big hunk of a man step out, his head shaven but his beard grown rough and long. God he looked filthy but so sexy.

Biting her lip she saw him take off his dark sunglasses as he scanned the crowd carefully, his lips pulling into a smirk once he saw his baby momma waiting at the back, away from the crowd; holding his baby girl. Practically skipping all the steps he threw his bag to the ground, his built arms bringing his wife and newborn into his arms, this was his first time home since that night their daughter was conceived. That one special night by the fireplace.

“Fuck pumpkin, missed ya n’ your sweet self s’much” He grumbled inhaling her scent deeply as he grazed his nose up and down her cheek, his other hand cupping his daughter’s head, this would be the first time he would see her in person. “And this- this is Penelope, Penelope Syverson” Y/n giggled holding up Penelope up to Sy, and even he could see she already was his twin, the same grouchy look already.

“She’s stinkin’ adorable, i’d say jus’ like her momma but i’m seein’ frowns on her already” Sy chuckled seeing his babygirl whimper and wiggle, leading Y/n to place the tiny babe into his arms, and just the mere size difference between the father and daughter was enough to make a witch’s heart melt. “She missed you, anytime you wasn’t on the phone she’d cry and whimper until I played your voicemail” Y/n explained tucking Penelope’s bib a bit more, seeing how she was drooling onto her daddy’s arm.

“Awk babygirl you break ma heart, m’not leavin’ again, I can’t do it- that’s me done” Sy chuckled bending down and kissing her forehead, breathing out a sigh of relief, he was finally discharged and able to start the rest of his life. “Damn right you aren’t leavin’, we still need to give our bubby a brother” Giggling Y/n latched herself onto his arm, the happy family walking towards the pickup truck waiting for them; Y/n watched on as Sy carefully put his pride and joy into her carseat, pouting up at Y/n when he realised Penelope wouldn’t let go of his finger.

“Babe, jus pull your finger out come on” Y/n laughed as he shook his head, “no can do sugar, don’t want my babygirl thinkin’ am leavin’ her again, can’t be her first heartbreak”

“If ya let go i’ll give ya some of your treat when we get home, after I put Pen down for her nap” It hadn’t even been two seconds but Sy carefully pulled his finger out, kissed his baby bye bye, and jogged over to the driver’s side of the pickup truck. “Now ya gotta keep your promise, wait- are you even okay down ‘er” Sy questioned looking concerned down at her crotch, he knew how hard the healing process was for his wife, needing stitches and medication. It honestly broke his heart that she had to go through it alone, but she was strong and independent, just his typa woman.

“Yup! Doctor gave me the green light a while ago, jus wanted to surprise ya for when you got home, Captain Syverson” Y/n winked grabbing a handful of his thigh tightly, his eyes widening and smacking her hand off, “Jesus woman didn’t ya read the sticker on the car? There’s a baby on board” He joked intertwining their hands and kissing her knuckles, leaning forward and pressing a heated kiss to her lips, his beard scratching her face in the best way possible. His tongue venturing out to lick over hers, tasting his favourite watermelon lipbalm causing him to groan into their kiss.

“Forgot how much I missed these luscious lips of yours” He growled pulling away, kissing her lips once more before sitting back in his seat to look at her, his wife. “Yeah? What else did ya miss” She giggled leaning over and pulling him back towards her, both her hands holding onto his as she looked up at him, her fingers then playing mindlessly with the wedding ring on the chain around his neck.

“These other lips down ‘ere” Laughing his hands smoothed up her thighs, settling under her dress, right on top of her panties waistband; he could already feel that it was those cotton white ones that he had a thing for. She just knows him so well. “No you didn’t”

“I did” She winked pulling up her skirt enough to show the start of the soft cotton pants, pulling the skirt down fast enough once his fingers tried their way up again. “Nuh uh mister, only when the angel is bed do we get to play” She scolded turning the ignition on for him, watching as he scoffed and turned his attention to the road

“Alright princess fairy queen, ah need ya to get to sleep pronto” Sy whispered into his baby’s tiny ears, the tiny tot sleeping on his bare chest, her head nestled comfortably on the curls on his chest. Her tiny fist clutched peacefully as tiny gurgles and coos came out every time she hiccuped or moved. “Princess fairy queen? Really Sy?” He heard his wife ask from the nursery door, clad in her white silk robe, very clearly not wearing anything underneath.

“I need my little girl to know she’s the best of ‘em all, n’ that means callin’ her every nickname on God’s Earth so she knows how much ah love her” Looking down at his tiny tot, he felt the need to lean down and nuzzle his nose with hers, pulling away instantly when he heard a toot. A fart.

“Now was that from me or you?” Sy frowned holding her up to face him, her tiny eyes clearly shocked, her own farts had woken her up just from how loud it was; “Tell ya what bubby, you’re definitely your daddy’s daughter”

“Yeah there’s now way that loud thing came outta this tiny precious sugar cube” Sy questioned seeing the tired girl had gone to sleep in his arms again, thankfully for Sy’s sake she didn’t need changed, well not yet anyway.

It finally seemed like baby Penelope finally got the memo when she finally stayed asleep in her bassinet, after 20 minutes of him just whispering pointless happy memories of him and her momma, many soft baby back rubs and head scratches and of course with her binky in place. Princess Penelope was down for her nap. Now Sy could have his wife, any way he darn wanted.

“Momma, you spoil me too much” Walking into their shared bedroom Sy saw his wife, her robe untied as she laid on the bed waiting for him, a chocolate covered strawberry already in her mouth as she winked at him, her legs spread open showing off her glistening folds; she needed him as much as he needed her.

“Irish twins?” Y/n asked plucking the strawberry from her mouth, licking its juices from her lips as she quirked up a brow; Sy doing nothing but growl and rush to get rid of his white t-shirt and cargo pants. “I’d give ya irish triplets if it were possible” He snarked climbing on top of her, his body hovering over hers as he bit into the strawberry that was back in between her lips, his teeth squeezing the juice down the valley of her tits. His delicious welcome home treat, just for him to enjoy.

———

PSA:Hope you all enjoy this bit of Daddy Sy 😗

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist (not accepting, please use library)

@pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25

See you all again very soon xoxo

- Fae

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #captain sy x reader #captain sy x wife!reader #dad!sy #henry cavill fluff #captain sy #captain sy fanfiction #captain syverson #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x y/n #sy x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #syverson x you

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 5 months

Note

Okay for Travis maybe "but babe you promised."

You and Travis broke away from the Christmas Eve party you were hosting at your house to head upstairs. You loved to hear the sound of Alex, Sav and Laylah running around and laughing with their friends and cousins. Travis, on the other hand, was in a sour mood.

“I’m not doing it.” Travis sat down on the bed with a huff, his tone even, but you could tell he was serious and was going to need some major convincing.

“T, there are twenty kids downstairs who are waiting for Santa.” You held up the Santa costume you had bought online, made to fit Travis’ unique measurements. “It’ll only be for a couple of minutes. 30 tops.”

“Peaches, no.” Travis always furrowed his brow when he was trying to appear stern; you had seen him do it in front of the kids hundreds of times.

“But babe, you promised.” You were about to pull out a pouty lip, but Travis stopped you, before pulling his Christmas sweater off over his head. He’d been complaining about how itchy it was all night. Travis shook his head fervently. “No, I said that we’d get a Santa, not that I’d be Santa.”

“I don’t want a stranger in my house.” When you were planning the party, you had always planned on Travis playing Santa for the kids. You didn’t want the girls to be scared, and Travis was really good at playing different characters.

“Get my dad to do it.” Travis searched on his phone to find any last minute Santa impersonators. He’d pay extra if it meant he didn’t have to wear the white beard. “T, your dad has been asleep on the couch for the past two hours. Now go get dressed.” If begging wasn’t going to work, you weren’t above bossing him around.

“Baby, no. Now drop it.” You sighed, feeling just a little bit defeated, if only for a minute.

Travis was distracted by his phone as you walked over to him, straddling his lap. You raked your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp with your nails like you knew he loved, and instantly he was putty in your hands, his eyes glazing over as his hands moved to cup your ass.

“That’s too bad”, you whispered, your lips grazing against his ear lobe, making him shiver. “After the party I had all of these ideas for how we could put this Santa costume to good use.” You ground against his crotch ever so slightly, making him grunt out. You knew you had him.

“30 minutes. Not a minute more.” He begrudgingly agreed, giving your butt a playful spank.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” You gave him an enthusiastic kiss before jumping off his lap. Travis started putting on the costume, and like you hoped, it fit perfectly. To mimic the round belly, you stuffed a couple of pillows underneath the top.

“You can have the job of explaining to the kids why Santa is 6’5” and has the body of a Greek god tonight.” Travis couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Ha, ha. Greek god is pushing it, don’t you think?” You narrowed your eyes at him, Travis flipping you off as he headed back downstairs.

#travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce blurb #travis kelce oneshot #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce fanfiction #nfl fluff #nfl fan fic

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idkfitememate · 4 months

Note

I NEED A CONTINUATION OF GOLDEN WEASEL!

As you sat wrapped around The Old Man’s neck, you watched as the scenery of Liyue passed you both by.

No one stared, looked, or even glanced at him, you guess it was noticeably pissing you off, because he began to gently scratch under your chin. You leaned into the gentle touch, making him chuckle.

The hand he wasn’t using to pet you was gripped around a cane, a basket hanging off his arm as well. Compared to rest of Liyue, he was dressed in extremely traditional clothing, his hair was tied into a traditional top knot with a beautiful guan. He also had a nice little beard. With his looks, you honestly wondered how old the man was, because on top of his… well his beauty, his home - despite it being a house boat - was also decked out in traditional furnishings and decor.

The only accessory you had was an earring made of mora with a dragon modeled after Morax attached to the bottom - it was a hanging earring. When you found out your old man had spent ONE HUNDRED MORA ON IT, you scolded him for an hour. Him kneeling as you stood on your hind legs loudly chittering at him.

The only reasons you wore it was because:

A. He bought it as a thank you for staying by his side, even in old age.

And

B. The damn thing cost a hundred mora why the fuck wouldn’t you

And finally

C. It helped differentiate you from other weasel thieves.

As you continued down the lanes, his little basket began to fill up, though its weight never seemed to bother him. You’d often chirp at him to see if you could carry it - you were strong for a weasel - but he’d just shake off your concerns with another chuckle.

And as you continued, you began to feel sleep with the gently sway of his body slowly walking along the paths, and probably would’ve too, if it weren’t for the fact that he stopped to speak with someone. Wait no that’s red and black bird.

… wait a minute.

“Mountain Shaper, my friend. Why do you walk among the mortals this fine day? To what do we owe the pleasure?” Did you mention The Old Man spoke super fucking eloquently? Because he does.

“Nothing but a stroll. And why are you here, old friend?” Wait Old Man knew an Adeptus? Old friend? What the hell-

“Ah, simply retrieving some items from the merchants. Nothing more. And as much as I’d adore to stay and chat, I must be off, so as to make me and my little friend here’s daily afternoon tea time, hehe!” You noticed that the Adeptus’s eyes were now on you, but only with a hint of curiosity.

“I see… well don’t let me take up more of your time.” The bird mused.

“Well actually… I believe we may have space for one more, if you’d care to join.” You looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this shit, but it seemed like no one else was around.

“Well if you’d allow me…” And with that, you were now walking with an Adeptus towards The Old Man’s houseboat. Feeling a bit bold, you stuck a paw out in the direction of the bird. All he did was glance at you, before chuckling. You smacked your lips before settling down on Old Man’s neck.

Your mind drifted as you thought of what tea he would make today… maybe Mountain Shaper would have something new in mind… perhaps a story awaited you as well… you yawned and closed your eyes, pressing your face into into the crook of your neck.

“You feel it as well, don’t you my friend.” Mountain Shaper asked.

“I do.” The Old Man responded.

“Will you ever tell them-“

“Only when the time is right.” The Old Man interrupted. “Now, they just want to live, and I will allow them that freedom. I have no right to strip that from them.”

“You sound like the God of Freedom.” The bird chuckled, making the Man sigh.

“Be quiet before I tie your beak shut.”

“*GASP* You wouldn’t dare!”

“I may not be as nimble as I was back then, but you and I both know you’d have no chance, especially if I actually tried.~”

“WHY YOU-“

Uh oh, Old Man had a secret, what ever will it be?~ Anyway, Weasel really just wants to live life. And since we’re doing some past stuff now, I imagine they were a petty thief in their past life, which is why they became a little thieving guy in Genshin ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა!

#anon <3 #asks <3 #Golden Weasel!Creator

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stuckinthesun · 4 months

Text

See you in Zou, Right? || Sanji x Reader

Series Masterlist

Prequel to⇡ — Spoilers for dressrosa

Summary - You and your boyfriend Sanji have to split up

Dressrosa was not going anywhere near as planned.

You and Zoro had gotten lost, only to meet up with Franky and find out the plan to turn Caesar over was a bust, Traffy got beat and taken by DoFlamingo, and Luffy was fighting in an arena. Then, when the two of you split off to go to the Sunny, you ran into Kin’emon and were told that the ship had already left for Zou with half your crew.

Sanji included.

You were desperate to talk to your boyfriend. To find out exactly what happened and if he and the others were okay.

The three of you ran all the way to the colosseum to talk to Luffy. After a frustrating conversation with some fanboy of the crew, your captain finally came to see you. He looked ridiculous with his fake beard, flower shirt, gold helmet, and red cape, but you could hardly find any amusement in it. There were marines everywhere, and you were standing out in the open.

When Kin’emon pulled out his transponder snail, you all but ripped it out of his hand and dialed the Sunny. The snail clicked, and there was a commotion in the background, like someone was fighting, but that all faded when you heard your favorite voice, “This is the Sunny.”

“Sanji! Thank god, I heard you got into a fight with Flamingo. Are you okay?” You asked a relieved sigh leaving your chest.

You heard a chuckle through the snail, making you smile, “Of course I’m fine Darling, even better now that I know you’re okay.”

“Ugh, gross.” Zoro groaned, and you shot him a glare.

“Shut it, mosshead!” Sanji yelled before asking Chopper to call Usopp.

Once the whole crew was able to talk, you caught each other up on everyone's situation. Everyone was relatively safe except for your group, who were now running from the Marines while talking.

You guys were trying to figure out the next step when Franky cut in, asking Luffy if he could join the fight to take down DoFlamingo.

Apparently, Dressrosa was a living hell, and there was a resistance of little fairy type people ready to fight for their freedom. Honestly, after learning everything you have about this place and the family running it, you couldn’t help but want to fight, too. Thankfully, Luffy instantly agreed, telling your cyborg crewmate that you guys would back him up.

“Alright, we’re coming back,” Sanji announced, and you felt your shoulders relax despite the effort of running.

He was coming back to you.

“Wait,” Nami’s voice came through the snail, making you tense up again, “We need to strategize this. There are three pieces to this, and we have two of them right here; it’s smarter if we take them as far away as we can.”

“But-“

“Listen,” Sanji’s voice was cut off by Nami’s, “I know you want to go back for Y/N, but we can’t. This is the smartest plan.”

“I agree with Nami; you guys head on to Zou; we’ll meet up there,” Luffy said, his voice deeper from exertion.

It was quiet for a moment before you let out a frustrated groan, “Sanji…”

“I know.” You heard your boyfriend sigh.

The captain made his decision, and as his crew, you had no choice but to follow.

So, the plan was set.

“Alright, listen up, you guys, if Y/N comes back to me with even a scratch I’ll kill you, understood?!” Sanji demanded through the snail, making you chuckle, “And Robin! I better not see any injuries on her, either!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, stupid cook?”

“I mean it, you directionally challenged moss ball! I’ll cook you alive if she gets hurt!”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try!”

“Would you two shut up!” Usopp yelled, breaking up the hourly Zoro and Sanji argument.

You smiled despite the burning in your body from all the running.

The details of the plan were made, and time was running out as buildings started slicing in half. Usopp and the others hung up, and Luffy ran off to continue his fight.

The transponder snail looked up at you from its place on your palm, curly eyebrows letting you know who held the other one.

“Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

Fear settled in your chest as more buildings began to crumble out of nowhere, “I’ll see you in Zou, right?”

You heard Sanji chuckle again before he answered,

“Of course you will.”

Taglist – @ninjanyers @snixx2088 @llynx7 @aiaiaiaiiaiiaii @secretlife028 @uay778 @an-angst-enthusiast @ghostercy @idcalol @frxcless @irishbl0ss0mz @ms-longbeach @writing-fanics

Idky but I just really wanted to write this prequel so here you go😅🫶

#one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji angst #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #straw hat sanji #sanji x reader #op sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x you #sanji angst #op x reader #one piece

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loving-barnes · 3 months

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - BETTER

A/N: Chapter six is here! And it took me quite some time. This one is shorter. Hope you like this one.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: Things are slowly turning around. Or are they?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3100+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Five

LOGAN HOWLETT - BETTER

Logan woke her up at six in the morning. They came to an agreement to start the training early before classes. He laughed at her when she opened the door and had dark circles under her eyes and messy hair. Fortunately, she was dressed in sports clothes and ready to train.

Y/N was surprised to see him in black gym shorts and that damn white tank top. At least he didn’t wear jeans. Fuck, his ass looked fantastic in them. Still, his big, veiny arms were on full display. At least something to look at, she thought. She needed to practise self-control. Otherwise, she’d drool all over him.

It took her a few minutes to wake up and get into training mode. First, Logan made her run through the footpaths around the compound. He stayed close, setting the pace for them. That was just the warm-up. Afterwards, he took them to the Danger room.

Y/N was drinking water while her eyes travelled around Logan, who walked around like a lion in a cage. He was thinking about the next part of the training. She used the opportunity to eye him. Damn, that man was hot. Even with that hairstyle, it made him charming.

“We should focus on your mutation,” he announced. “You need to be able to control it as you wish. The more control you have, the more you can do as you please.”

She put down the water bottle. “I’ve noticed a thing,” she approached the man. Her hands rested on her hiplines. “I’ve been thinking about it the whole night.”

Logan crossed his big, muscular arms across his chest. Then he raised a brow. “Shoot.”

“I think it behaves differently every time I use it. It all depends on the situation,” Y/N explained. “When we were in Salem, and they shot at me, the bullets were absorbed into the shield. Then, I ran towards them, and it threw them away once they made contact with the forcefield. It would absorb or hurt them more if it behaved the same. Instead, it served as a barrier.”

He tilted his head and scratched his beard. “Interesting,” he said. “Someone else would be able to explain why this keeps happening. As the Professor said, your mutation is primarily defensive, and-”

“I can use it as an offence if needed,” she added. “I know, I heard.”

“Exactly like it happened a few days ago. Your emotions got the best of you, and the forcefield flew right out of ya,” Logan continued. “I think you need to experiment with it. You know, try a bunch of shit to figure it all out.”

Y/N laughed at that. “Aw, you are a great teacher,” she teased. “I have never received such specific instructions. Try a bunch of shit and figure it all out.”

While she kept chuckling at that, Logan’s claws emerged from his skin, and he threw a punch. He would have gotten her face, but Y/N dodged it by a few centimetres. Her heart skipped a beat, and her soul escaped her body. “What the fuck?” she yelled. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“What? You dodged it,” he smirked. He threw another punch, and she quickly blocked it. “Better,” he commented.

“You could’ve killed me, you ass,” she spat.

“Stop crying, princess,” said Logan with a smirk plastered over his face. “You need to expect the unexpected. Plus, I’d never hurt ya.”

Princess? That was new, she thought. “What if I hurt you? Have you thought about that?”

“I wouldn’t stress over it. I can heal, remember?”

Y/N didn’t wait and kicked him in the gut hard. He stumbled back and gasped from pain. He managed to stay on his feet. “Expect the unexpected,” she said to him with a big smile.

“Will I correctly ask if I ask that you’ve learnt to fight when you were with that Mars guy?” he rubbed his belly.

She stretched while he kept his distance. “Yes. I’m not saying he made me the best fighter or anything. We had to know how to fight and escape. I know what I’m doing, but compared to you, I am a novice,” she said.

“You are far from that,” Logan said. “Now, come on. Less talking, more fighting. You wanted me to train you and not chit-chat.”

“Aw, come on, you like chatting with me,” she teased again.

“Shut up and fight.”

Left hook, right hook and then Y/N was down on the floor. She cursed and frowned at the man above her. She was panting, mad that he managed to get her down that quickly. Y/N rolled over her shoulder and went for his legs. She tried to trip him but wasn’t successful. She attempted to kick him in the knee and failed. Damn, Logan was agile. He predicted her moves.

“Come on, Y/N, hit me finally!”

As he hauled off at her, Y/N’s hand shot forward, and she made a forcefield. Logan collided with it and flew through the air until he hit the ground farther away. Y/N’s eyes almost fell out of her sockets. She covered her mouth and nose with both hands, gasping. “Oh my god!”

She didn’t expect him to fly through the seven seas and more. Hell, she didn’t want to use the forcefield in the first place. He attacked, and she protected herself. It was instinct. Y/N ran to him and fell to her knees. Her eyes filled with horror.

Logan was grunting on the floor. His white tank top was burnt in many places. The smell of burning flesh caught her nose. She found a few burns on his skin that healed before her eyes. “I’m so sorry! Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” She was panicking.

Slowly, he sat up and looked down at his destroyed piece of clothing. “Shit,” he mumbled. “That hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” her mouth ran miles. “I wanted to use the shield to make you fly, yes. However, not to burn you alive. What the fuck was that? I am so sorry, Logan.”

His hand pressed against her mouth to shut her up. “Breathe, princess. I’m fine.” He wrinkled his eyebrows when he smelled the burnt clothing. He grabbed the fabric with his other hand and ripped it off him.

Holy shit, she thought. She would have said it out loud if it wasn’t for Logan’s hand over her mouth. For the first time ever, she got the perfect and close view of his toned, muscular chest. It was covered in hair that travelled down to his stomach and even further. It was hot. She couldn’t believe how much she liked it. He was a definition of a man. The way his chest rose and fell from breathing, she had to clench her thighs.

The door to the Danger room opened. Storm ran inside. “Have you seen-” she stopped talking when she found Logan and Y/N on the floor. He kept holding her mouth while being shirtless. They turned their heads to the woman. “Y/N,” she added. “I was looking for you this whole morning. As I can see, you are preoccupied.”

Logan let go of her mouth. “We’ve been training since six,” she said.

“I need to talk to you,” said Storm when she approached them. “Since when do you train without a shirt?” she teased the man.

“Since someone burnt it with her mutation,” he glared at Y/N, who gave him a big, embarrassing smile. “Y/N, at least buy me a drink before you want to see me shirtless.”

Her mouth opened wide as if she was offended by that. She couldn’t give a reply. Logan put two fingers under her chin and helped her close it. “You’re a douche,” said Y/N. “It was an accident,” she turned to Storm.

“If you are done, can I talk to you?” Storm asked. Her voice was soft and friendly.

Logan stood up. He helped Y/N on her feet. “We’re done. I have a class in half an hour, and I need to shower.” He noticed how the woman by his side kept ogling him. He smirked. “I’ll see ya later, Y/N.”

Both women watched him leave the Danger room. Storm raised a brow and smirked. “You have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Y/N’s eyes goggled. “It’s nice to look at him,” she commented. “Anyway, what do you need?”

“I need to talk to you about everything that happened a few days ago.”

Y/N inhaled through her nose. “Can I quickly shower? We can meet in fifteen minutes at the basketball court. Then, we can talk.”

“That sounds okay,” Storm nodded. “I’ll see you there in fifteen.”

. . .

Storm and Y/N walked over the school grounds, enjoying the autumn breeze. The weather was warm, even though it was October and Halloween was knocking on the door. Storm wanted to know Y/N’s story. She needed to understand what had happened before she would jump to any conclusions. That’s why they spent the last hour walking around, talking about Y/N’s life.

“I don’t get why Scott needed to paint you as the bad guy when all of us struggled when we were teens,” Storm shook her head in disbelief. “All stories are different. You happened to have a tragic one. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I still did it,” Y/N sighed. “I managed to kill my sister with the ability to protect. How ironic is that?” she shook her head. “I can’t change the past. My little sister is dead. My parents hate me. If they knew I was alive, they would want me dead.”

“So, what happened after?”

“I ended up in an insane asylum where I stayed for a few years before I escaped,” said Y/N. “Those years are a blur. With the heavy medication and shit, I don’t remember much.” They slowly moved back to the school. “You know, I wanted to leave yesterday,” she admitted.

“Why?”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought you’d hate me for what I did. I hurt you all. I thought you wouldn’t want that kind of a person here, with the kids,” she explained.

“What made you stay then?” Storm was curious. She had an idea in her mind. That idea was inside the school, teaching history.

“A chance of being a better person,” Y/N said. “I have the opportunity to do something good. I can learn more about mutation and be there for those who require help. I want to prove to you and myself that I am not a monster.”

“Is that all?” Storm had to ask with a teasing smile.

“Let’s not go there,” Y/N chuckled.

“Logan is a nice guy. Grumpy but with a good heart,” said Storm. “You two clicked, you know? When I think about it, it would be a great love story. He’s literally your knight in shining armour.”

“Y/N!” they heard a voice shouting. Both women turned to see JJ running towards them. Saved by the kid, she thought. Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She spread her arms, and the boy ran into them. They hugged tightly. “I haven’t seen you in days,” said the boy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“They told me you were hurt,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She gave him a smile and patted his head. “Of course I am. I needed some time to rest. How do you like it here?”

“This place is awesome,” he said excitedly. “I share a room with two other boys. They seem nice. Oh, hey Storm,” the boy acknowledged the other woman standing by them. “They teach us how to work with our mutation. It’s so much fun!”

“Oh, it makes me so happy that you like this place,” Y/N looked into the boy’s face.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you later. Bye Y/N, bye Storm!” the boy waved to them and ran inside the building. He probably had another class to attend.

“He’s a unique young man and a good student,” Storm said when the boy was gone. “Was your past also a reason you wanted to save the boy?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Together, they went back inside the mansion. When they stepped into the main hallway, Y/N turned around on her heel. “Hey, didn’t I make Scott fly out of that window?” she pointed at the undamaged window. “How is it fixed already?”

“With all the mutations around, things can get fixed fast here,” said Storm with a gentle laugh. “Listen, I have a wild idea,” her eyes brightened. “Half an hour from here, there’s a bar. It’s owned by a mutant. We should all grab a drink tonight.”

“There is a bar?” Y/N was surprised to hear that. “I’d love a beer. It’s been years since I had one.”

The school bell rang. Silent halls turned into noisy ones. Another class was over. The students left the classrooms.

“Great. All we need is to find a babysitter and-”

Office, now.

Y/N frowned and looked around. She heard the Professor in her head. “Did you hear that?”

Storm nodded. “Come, something’s going on.”

They moved fast into Charles’s office. Rogue, Bobby and Kitty were quickly behind them. After entering the office, Jean, Scott, and Kurt were already there, with another man Y/N never met before. He had mid-long silver hair and a smug smile on his face. The last ones to enter were Logan and Colossus.

“You must be the new girl,” the man pointed at Y/N, his eyes travelling over her body. After a blink, he stood in front of her. “I’m Peter,” he shook her hand.

“Y/N,” she said, startled. “Wow, you are fast.”

Logan approached Y/N, standing right behind her. She smelled like a coconut shampoo. It was nice. What he didn’t like were Peter’s eyes on her. Logan glared at him. “Hey, Speedy,” he greeted his friend. “Long time no see.”

Peter moved back to the chair he was sitting on. It was faster than a snap of the fingers. “Had some business to do. Same old, same old.”

Scott turned his head to look at Y/N. Because no one could see his eyes, they didn’t know what emotion was behind them. He wrapped an arm around Jean’s waist and faced the Professor again.

“Why are we here, Professor?” Kitty asked softly. “Did something happen?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news,” Charles started to talk. “Hank and Remy went to Washington to attend a conference. It was about Human and Mutant affairs. I’m afraid some new threads want to stop the cooperation between humans and mutants.”

“Here we go again,” Bobby mumbled, shaking his head.

“And with Trask Industries trying to come up with a way to suppress us, I’m afraid we are on thin ice,” Charles continued. “I’ll send Scott and Jean to join Hank and Remy. We need more reasonable voices to help with the cause.”

“Professor, this will never stop,” Rogue commented. “They tried before. Here we are again, facing the same issue over again.”

“We can only hope for the best, for now,” said the Professor. “We need to act now before Magneto and his Brotherhood will step in. And we all know what happens when they get into it.”

“We need to be prepared for anything,” Jean said. “If the politics decide to break the treaty pact, we will be endangered again, and there will be war. No one wants that.”

Y/N shook her head. Even though there was a treaty, humans would experiment on mutants. They would capture them and abuse them like they did her. They needed lab rats to figure out how the X gene worked.

How am I still alive?

When the meeting had ended, everyone, except for Jean and Scott, gathered outside the office. “How about Stan’s tonight?” Storm suggested. “I need a drink more than ever after hearing that,” she pointed at the office door behind her.

“I’m out,” Colossus said. “I don’t think I am welcomed there for a while. Last time, I accidentally destroyed two tables.”

“Because you wanted to arm-wrestle after drinking the whole bottle of vodka,” Logan glared at his friend. “I warned you. You didn’t listen, Piotr.”

Y/N bit her lower lip to keep her from laughing. Obviously, they were notoriously well-known at the bar. Her eyes met Logan’s for a brief moment.

“So, you’ll be the babysitter then?” Storm gave him pleading eyes.

“Sure,” he agreed. “You all have a good time. If anything happens, I’ll give someone a call.”

“Great,” Strom clapped excitedly. “How about we meet at the entrance gate at seven in the evening?” she suggested.

As they all started to disperse, Y/N turned around and looked at the Professor’s door. She had an idea inside her head. It was stupid, but she wanted to ask about it.

“Are you coming?” she heard Logan’s voice.

“Uh,” she turned her head to look at him. “I need to talk to the Professor. I’ll see you later.”

With a single nod, Logan left her alone. Y/N knew Jean and Scott were still inside, but she wanted to speak to Charles alone. Y/N approached the door and knocked on it. Once she was allowed to enter, she did.

Scott and Jean were already on their way out. Jean gave her a polite smile while Scott ignored her. Y/N had to roll her eyes. His behaviour was childish.

“How can I help you, Y/N?” Charles asked. He moved behind his table. “Your mind is closed, so I wonder what you want.”

“I was thinking,” she approached the table and then seated in an armchair. “Do you need an extra teacher?”

“What do you have in mind exactly?”

“Uh,” she fiddled with her fingers. “English and literature, perhaps? You took me in, and I would like to repay you somehow. I was the best in class. Before my life turned upside down, I used to apply to writing competitions. I know a lot about literature. I love it.”

Charles smiled. “Anything else?”

“Uh,” she thought back, thinking about the hobbies she had as a child. “I attended guitar lessons, so I guess music? I might remember something.”

The man chuckled. “You can teach English and literature. It would help me with some of the classes, to be honest. I teach physics, mutant ethics and even literature. Another teacher for this would be great.”

“And it’s okay that I don’t have a proper school?”

“No one does. Hank, Jean and I are the only educated here,” he said gently. “Any help would be appreciated. I will look at the schedules with Storm, and I believe you can start from Monday.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes sparkled. She was getting excited.

“I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she smiled at him. “This means a lot. I’m glad I’ll be able to help you. I’ll let you be. You must have a ton of work to do.”

When she left his office, she felt more relief in her chest. At least she would be able to repay them somehow. A smile appeared on her face. Things slowly started to turn for the better.

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