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ilovepedro · 6 months

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Muñequita | javier peña x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: Javier comes home from a shit day at work, and puts your free use agreement to work.

Warnings: free use, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), doggy style, papi (daddy) kink, dom!Javi, dom/sub dynamic, spanking, degradation, praise kink, creampie, fluff, after care, reader is female, reader has hair Javier can pull but no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: i cranked this out in like an hour. this literally came out of nowhere, i've just been thinking about Javi a lot. like honest to god this is just the result of me watching too many Javi edits on tiktok and a severe case of Javi P brain rot :P hope y'all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

Sighing as he unlocks the door to your home, he loosens the tie around his neck and tosses his keys onto the counter. He toes off his shoes and kicks them to where yours lay in the foyer. The sound of music and the smell of something cooking catches his attention, pulling him into the kitchen.

The frustration from today dissipates ever so slightly at the sight of you at the counter, preparing dinner. He trudges to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a kiss on your neck, eliciting a startled yelp from you.

“Javi! I didn’t even hear you come in, you scared me!” You yell, setting the knife down and turning around in his embrace. He sighs and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “Rough day?” You ask, twirling the curls at the nape of his neck. He silently responds with a nod as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat.

Javier isn’t typically one for talking about what’s bothering him. Letting him open up to you at his own pace, you two have an agreement: he can fuck you whenever and however he likes after a hard day.

A moan threatens to spill over your lips as he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone. “What can I do to help, papi?” Asking teasingly as you feign innocence, batting your lashes at him.

He snarls at your words, gripping your hair and drawing you into him. “I think you already know the answer to that, bebita.” He sinks to his knees, hands roaming to the hem of your dress. Your scent intoxicating as he leans in to hike your dress up over your stomach and bunching it up over his head. He groans as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt.

“No panties, baby? Did you know I was gonna come home pissed off huh? Make sure my meeting went to shit so you’d get fucked like a little slut?” You whimper at his words as you shake your head.

“No, Javi, I swe-,”

You’re cut off with a light smack to your thigh, moaning at the dull sting. “Uh uh. What’s my name, bebita?” Javier growls. “P-papi,” you whimper. “That’s right,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound.

“Look at her, bebita. She’s drooling for me. All from being called a slut?” He rasps against your thighs, his prickly mustache scratching them as he litters kisses along them. Javier doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together, noticeably clenching around nothing.

A soft bite pulls you from your trance, gasping as he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh. “Yes, papi. Wanted to give you something nice to come home to,” you moan, locking eyes with him as his hands roam up to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“My sweet bebita walking around here with no panties on like a good little slut. You go out in public like this or just here, waiting for papi to get home?”

“Only here, only for you, papi,” you pant, your neediness increasing by the second. Your words elicit a growl from him.

He dives in with no warning, your head swims at the sensation of his tongue on your dripping core. “Oh fuck, papi!” He hums as he laps at your juices, licking a broad stripe up your folds, parting your lips with his tongue. Endless moans stream from your lips as a new wave of slick seeps from your cunt and into his mouth.

He groans at the taste of you, his cock twitching in his suit. “F-feels so, s-so good, papi,” you whine as you toss your head back. The smell of something burning piques your interest, turning your head to the side. The pan you’d left on the stove sends smoke into the air, completely forgotten in the midst of everything. You gently tap Javier’s shoulder. “Papi, d-dinner,” you stutter through your moans as Javier curls his lips around your clit.

Grunting at your words, Javier turns it into a race - betting he can make you cum before the smoke detector sets off. Eager to win, he shoves two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. Your eyes fly open, inhaling a sharp gasp at the unexpected intrusion.

The sting from the stretch is welcomed and so utterly delicious, you clench around them as he relentlessly suckles on your swollen, puffy clit. “Ja- Papi, wait, gotta - hah - gotta turn off the stove,” you whine. He doesn’t relent, in fact, his pace picks up as he laps at your core. His long, thick fingers ruthlessly hitting your g-spot as he fucks them and in and out of you. The smoke permeates the air, your head swirling as your orgasm approaches.

He groans as he feels you clench around his fingers. The vibrations of it sending you crashing into your orgasm.

“Papi!” You scream, seizing up under his hold as you uncontrollably convulse, bucking your hips up into his mouth. Moaning as he drinks up every last drop of your slick. He pulls back, the skirt of your dress slightly falling.

Without moving from his spot, he keeps one hand on your thigh while reaching for the knob on the stove, turning it off before the smoke detector can beep. The smoke slowly dissipates through the open windows as he turns his attention back to you.

A bead of sweat drips from your brow from the combination of the heat and your orgasm. He lets the hem of your dress fall back into place and rises to his feet. His lips crash onto yours. His mustache damp as his chin glistens with your slick, smearing it onto yours. The kiss ravenous and heady, you moan into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

“Bedroom, now,” he rasps, grabbing your hand and hurriedly leading you to your shared room.

He nearly throws you across the room as he flings you onto the bed, shucking his suit jacket off in the process.

Drawing him in by the tie, you suck his bottom lip into yours as you fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. He fiddles with his belt as you slip off his shirt, tugging his curls in your hands - deepening the kiss.

He helps you tear the dress from your body, your lips still connected. Swiftly unhooking your bra and tossing it on the floor, he growls at the sight of you laid out, stark naked on the bed for him.

You coyly spread your legs, your cunt still wet and sticky from earlier. Flames burning in your core as he removes his briefs. His angry, red cock throbbing as his seed spills over the tip as his eyes blow wide with lust.

He pumps himself in his first, lathering his length in his precum. “Turn around bebita. All fours,” he demands.

You quickly follow his instructions, eager to be stuffed full of him. Propping yourself up on all fours, teasingly arching your back as you wiggle your ass. A sharp smack comes crashing down onto your ass, a loud moan escaping you.

He snarls at your teasing. The bed dips behind you, as Javier settles in behind you. Gripping your hair, he yanks you flushed against his chest. “You gonna be a good girl, baby? Or are we gonna have a repeat of last time?”

The delicious memory of him restraining you to the bed, edging you for hours replays in your head.

Despite how appetizing that sounds, your neediness overpowers your decision making as you’re desperate for him to fuck you.

“Yes, papi, I’m gonna be good, I promise,” you keen as he nips at your ear lobe. “Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, tossing you back onto the mattress.

His girthy, long cock drags along your ass and teasingly prods at your aching pussy. Anticipation bubbles in your tummy as he lines up his length with your entrance. He enters you in one, slow motion, drawn out moans from both of you filling the air along with the squelch of your pussy.

Filling you to the hilt, you pant as he languidly pulls out of you before ramming back into you. You duck your head into the mattress, muffling your moans.

“Uh uh, don’t do that. Look into the mirror and let me hear you, baby. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make for papi,” he says as he slowly begins fucking you.

Turning your head to the side, you catch a glimpse of you two in the mirror. A particularly loud moan escapes you at the sight of him buried in you while he fucks into your sopping cunt, stroking your g-spot. The familiar mouthwatering sting of his cock causes tears to blur your vision.

“M-more, papi, more! Please!” You beg, needing more than the slow pace he’s going at. Suddenly, he’s ramming into you fast and hard, grunting with every thrust against your cervix as your cries fill the air.

“That hard enough for you? You like getting fucked like a slut, baby? Como una muñequita, like my little doll?” His hips snapping into yours, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust.

“Yes, papi, yes! Your little doll to use whenever you want, do anything you want with, papi!” You cry out on a choked sob, tears of pleasure streaming from your eyes. A tug of your hair elicits a high-pitched moan from you.

“I’m the luckiest man, bebita. Coming home to my girl cooking for me and letting me fuck her whenever I want, however I want. So fucking good for me, baby. So. Fucking. Good,” he moans loudly, his hips punctuating his words.

“Only for you, papi," you breathlessly whine.

“That’s right, baby. Only for me. Cum for me, bebita. Wanna see you cum on my cock. Look in the mirror and look how pretty you are when you cum all over my cock, baby. Be a good girl for papi and cum, bebita,” he babbles.

You shift your gaze to the mirror again and the sight of him fucking you along with his words launch you into your climax, screaming as he grips your hips harder.

“Fill me up, papi. Stuff me full of your cum. Want it so bad, need your cum, papi, please,” you sob through your release.

Thrusts growing sloppy as he fucks you through your high.

"Fuck!" He grunts as he coats your walls with his warm load, dribbling out of you and smearing between your thighs and onto your cunt.

Toppling over you, he remains inside as he rests his weight on top of you. Pants and the smell of sex linger in the air as he softens inside of you. He grunts as he pulls out, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder before padding into the bathroom.

Your limbs feel like jelly as you lay there, pliable and fucked out. Javier returns with a damp washcloth and kneels down to gently clean in between your legs, eliciting a soft hum from you.

He carefully flips you onto your back, delicately swiping at your mound, causing you to hiss at the contact - still sensitive from your back-to-back orgasms.

“Lo siento, bebita,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss on your hip. “Estás bien, papi,” you softly tell him as you run your fingers through his hair. He goes to toss the washcloth into the laundry basket before coming to saddle beside you in bed.

Scooping you up in his embrace, he places a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I meant it, bebita,” his words making you perk up, your brows furrowed as you lock eyes with him, confused as to what he means.

“I’m the luckiest man and I don’t thank you enough, so… thank you, baby. I love you,” he rasps as he gazes into your twinkling eyes. Your features soften at his words, a small smile splaying onto your lips.

“No need to thank me, baby. I’m happy to do anything for you. I love you, Javi,” you whisper, cupping his face and drawing him in for a leisure kiss.

Your lips stay melded to one another’s for a moment until the sound of Javier’s growling stomach interrupts you two. You break the kiss as you burst into a fit of giggles.

“What?!” Javier asks, a smirk playing at his lips at the sound of your laughter. “I knew I should’ve stopped you when we almost burned dinner!” You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. A chuckle rumbles from within him, you lightly bounce on his chest as he laughs.

“We can order something, I know you’re tired, bebita. Don’t worry about it, okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

“Okay.”

tag list: @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @tinygarbage @party-hearses @pascalpvnk @daydreamingmiller @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed

#javier peña narcos #javi peña #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña one shot #javier peña smut #narcos

413 notes · View notes

katiexpunk · 3 months

Note

You may have done this before, I haven’t read all your work, but How about Joel and Tommy (or just Joel 😜) take you on a horse ride, out into the woods and end up having a fun time on the grass

Tell Me a Secret | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Non, thank you so much for this request. I hope you enjoy this! I love getting requests from ya'll, makes my heart so happy.xx As a side note, this will be my final fic as an unmarried woman. My wedding is in less than a month (!!!!)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Word Count: 7.8K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Warnings: References to canon typical violence. It's hinted that readers father was abusive. Death. Blood. Reader is an artist. Ellie/Sarah/Tommy/Maria and others are referenced in this. Ellie and Reader are friends. Alcohol. Angst. Horses. Pining. Oral (female receiving). Praise kink. Pet names. Emotional sex. Very unprotected sex. They fuck outside, but nobody is around. Joel makes a questionable choice in this one that invades readers privacy. Breeding kink if you squint. Creampie. Fingering. Lots of references to art and poetry. A surprise ending that might mean more later on... Immersibility: Reader has no physical descriptions apart from having hair, breasts, and a uterus. It is noted at one point that there is charcoal visible on her hands. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). Creative Credits: the middle image of the graphic is a drawing by @kamal.classic.art on Instagram. The poem referenced at the end is by Olivia Ann Rose. The opening section is modified poetry from Brianna Pastor. Inspiration was pulled from the lake scene in The Princess Diaries 2. And shout out to our boi Leonardo da Vinci, cuz I reference the Mona Lisa.

It’s really easy to be angry.

Over the years, anger became so familiar to you that you had a difficult time differentiating between that and your sadness. Both felt equally daunting.

It’s difficult to work on your sadness with its roots are boiling with anger. Both don’t always look the way one might expect them to. Sometimes, the face of anger is neutral, a quiet rumble you don’t notice because it’s buried so deep.

That steady stream of anger and hurt seemed to trickle into every single thing that you did. You had become cold and numb to the reality of the world around you; an empty shell of who you once were.

And then you met Joel Miller.

He came along and started to nurture what you buried so deep that you eventually forgot what was even planted there.

And you did the same for him.

Like the sun, you elevated the ordinary with a simple touch. Your rays warmed the cockles of his heart he thought had gone so cold they could never be revived.

This is that story.

++++

It doesn’t take Ellie long to figure it out.

“Hey, give me that back!” You snap at her, attempting to pull the tattered notebook from her hands, but it’s pointless. Her tiny fingers must have been sumo wrestlers in another life, you wager. Putting space between both of your bodies by quickly walking backward, she locks eyes with you until her back is up against the makeshift bookshelf.

This is your favorite place in all of the Jackson – the makeshift library Maria started a few months back. It’s not much, but with your help, the collection is starting to grow. You’re quick to stuff books into your pack on raids and have summoned a handful of the townspeople to aid in this effort. It’s always quiet and peaceful; a stark contrast to the world outside the walls that keep you safe here.

Well, that was until a rather foul-mouthed 14-year-old named Ellie arrived in town. Despite your age difference, you two have become fast friends, even if she does annoy the shit out of you sometimes.

“Ellie, I am so serious right now, please give my notebook back,” you plead with her from across the room, your hands on your hips, a serious undertone to your voice.

“Why? Whatcha trying to hide so bad? Drawing a bunch of dicks or something?” she jokes.

When you don’t respond, her eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, dude. You are drawing a bunch of dicks, aren’t you!” she teases, resting the pads of her fingers in between the pages of the notebook, slightly parting the paper. All she’d have to do is move them a little and the pages would fall open, revealing your secrets faster than a Catholic at confession.

She starts to crack the spine of the notebook, but your voice calling out once more causes her pause. “No, wait, Ellie, stop,” you say a tad softer this time. “I’m not drawing a bunch of dicks, and even if I were, that’s not something you should be looking at – it’s…personal,” you respond, hoping the sincerity and softness you’re attempting to frost over the obvious bite of anger behind your voice will encourage her to listen.

She stares back at you, scanning your face up and down for a hint of the truth, thinking for a few moments.

“Fine,” she says. Your shoulders fall from your ears and the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escapes from your lungs. She walks back over to you and extends her arm out, the notebook in hand, preparing to hand it over to you as if she’s some sort of General accepting a truce deal.

As you reach out to grab it, she lets it slip from her hands a few seconds too early. A nearly silent oops escapes her lips. The notebook falls to the floor with an audible thud, dropping as fast as a dead body, its pages falling open on both sides, like blood spilling on the floor.

Before you register what’s even happening, Ellie already has her knees on the floor, hovering over the open pages, a look of astonishment and delight on her face.

“Whoa – is that,” she asks, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re quickly snatching it up, snapping it closed with an audible thud. You both rise, and she’s looking at you, a smug smile of knowing on her face. Her smile grows like she’s just found some sort of secret treasure. “That was me, wasn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question, she already knows the answer.

You consider lying, but fuck it, you’re in too deep at this point. Plus, she may be only 14, but she’s smart as a whip, and you know she’d be able to call your bullshit from a mile away. Besides, she already saw the damn thing.

“Yes, okay, Ellie. Fine,” you concede. “It’s you. I – I like to draw,” you admit sheepishly like you’re afraid of what might come if you say it out loud.

It’s not that you’re not proud of your drawings, you are. The only thing you can attribute to your unwillingness to share your hobby with the world is akin to a trauma response.

Memories of your father ripping up your first notebook of drawings, the one he found under your pillow when you were a teenager, flash through your mind. Goosebumps litter your body when you swear you can still hear his raspy voice, harsh from the burn of whiskey, telling you that drawing won’t pay the bills and to knock that shit off or he’ll beat it out of you. He wasn’t particularly a man of his word, but somehow, he managed to keep that one. You’re not sure when the anger started to creep in, but you think it might have been then. Watching your hard work darken and crumble in the fire almost hurt worse than the sear his belt left behind.

“You were reading your comic over there the other day,” you admit, nodding your head toward the little nook by the window. “The light was just right, and well…I don’t know, I just got inspired and figured I’d give drawing you a shot,” you admit, voice soft and shy.

“Well you’re pretty fucking good at it,” Ellie admits.

You shove it down, the spark of happiness her words ignite in you, and it works. For now.

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond, clutching your not-so-secret secret closer to your chest. You aren’t good at taking compliments; especially now, after everything that’s happened.

“Can I have it?” Ellie asks. She rolls her eyes for a second, before eventually adding a please to the end of her request. You remember her telling you a few weeks back that Joel has been working with her on manners. You’d only met him once, but as far as you could tell, he was the southern gentleman, wounded dog, not to be fucked with, but still the impossibly polite type of man. The type of man that would punch another guy in the bar for questioning a lady’s honor, or stab him in the kneecap for looking at his girl the wrong way.

You consider her request for a moment, before eventually deciding that since it is her likeness, she should be the one to have it. You crack open the book, being careful to hide the other pages from her view before the familiar sound of paper ripping fills the room. You’re careful to tear it in a straight line, close to the spine, so as not to ruin the drawing.

With her portrait in hand, you bargain, “You can have this under one condition. You can’t tell anyone about this.” Ellie gives a subtle nod as if to agree. You don’t notice her middle and index fingers crossed tightly behind her back when you hand it over.

“So you’re sure you don’t have anything super naughty in there?” Ellie teases.

“Alright kid, no more dick jokes or Joel is gonna choke me,” you chide, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. Wouldn’t that be quite the piece of jewelry; a Joel Miller hand necklace. The truth is that while you don’t have anything super naughty, you do have more than one drawing of her guardian hiding in your pages. You’re not sure of much anymore, but there is one thing you do know for certain – those drawings are something she can never, ever, see. Those drawings are something nobody can ever see.

Ellie was quick to discover your secret.

Good thing it was just one of them.

You drape your arm over her shoulder and walk out of the library together.

++++

It all happens so quickly from that moment on.

It’s only spring, yet the Jackson grapevine is in full bloom, carrying the fruits of your talent to pretty much the whole town. You can’t say you’re surprised. What did you expect from a 14-year-old with minimal entertainment options?

It starts with Ellie letting it slip to Maria while they’re washing the dishes from family dinner with her, Tommy, and Joel.

Maria lets it slip to Tommy.

Tommy lets it slip to Samantha, the town’s soapmaker.

Samantha lets it slip to Joey, the butcher.

Joey lets it slip to – well – pretty much everyone else. You wouldn’t have guessed the town's butcher would be such a gossip, but dead cattle don’t make great conversationalists. Before you know it, you’re accepting some sort of art deal over porridge in the dining hall like it’s a shady drug deal.

“Come on, think of how happy it will make people,” Maria pleads with you. “You only have to do as many as you want,” she adds, looking at you with kind eyes, the ones that are nearly impossible to say no to.

You stare back at her in silence, attempting to piece together a response in your mind, but your words may as well be a 1,000-piece single-color puzzle at this point.

“So many of us don’t have those memories anymore. Think of how much it will mean to people to be able to put a drawing of their family up on their walls once more, you know?” she says, laying it on thick. Like how it used to be is what she leaves out.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you respond, dropping your spoon on the wooden table next to your half-eaten bowl of breakfast. You feign annoyance, but deep down, you’re excited about the opportunity. Scared shitless, but excited.

“Yeah? Great. Oh just wait until I tell Tommy, he’s going to be ecstatic,” she says. “Now finish up, can’t have any of that food going to waste,” she quips, before swinging her leg over the bench and adjusting the brim of the cowboy hat on her head as she walks away, a smug look on her face.

++++

In the following days and weeks, you find yourself immersed in the lives of the residents of Jackson. Setting up your makeshift easel from scrap wood you collected on patrol in living rooms, on front porches, and amidst picturesque landscapes.

The people, once reserved, slowly begin to open up to you as they share stories and anecdotes of their lives before. It’s sweet, you think – how chatty people get when they have nothing to do but sit there while you try your best to capture their likeness.

Some conversations are easier than others. Most of the time you just nod your head and let out occasional nods or grunts of agreement, too immersed in your work to listen to what they’re saying, but sometimes you find yourself so engrossed in their stories that the drawings take hours to complete.

As much as you learn about them, you rarely open up about yourself. Sometimes they ask, sometimes they don’t. Regardless, you feel like the woman you were before no longer exists, she was left to decay with the rest of your family back in Austin. You know she’s in there, buried deep inside, hiding behind a door of anger and tears. Sometimes she cries out, but you buried the key to that lock years ago. No getting out now.

As the portraits accumulate, so does a sense of connection and unity. You’re no longer an unknown. A threat against resources. When you first arrived in town, you did your best to make yourself useful and show people that you weren’t just dead weight. And it worked, or you think it worked anyway, but the past few weeks have caused a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Before the apocalypse, you never really saw a place for your artwork or your talent. But now, you can see how it’s becoming a bridge, linking generations and weaving a tapestry of shared histories. Giving people something to cling to, something to hold on to, something to cherish once more.

Of all of the portraits you’ve done so far, your favorite is the one you did of Tommy and Maria. She hasn’t said anything yet, but from the way she placed her hand on her belly, and the way Tommy looked at her, it was pretty easy to guess. You did your best to capture their likeness, knowing it would likely be shown to generations to come. When you showed them the final result, Maria cried and hugged you tighter than you’ve been hugged in years. Their love was obvious – radiant and shiny. If anything were to make you believe in love again, wouldn’t seeing it right in front of your face be it? You try not to think about it too much when you realize it doesn’t.

You no longer have to walk the streets of Jackson, bouncing from place to place, alone. There’s always someone to talk to on your journey, or a comfortable silence paired with a subtle wave in the distance, or the occasional sound of a creaky screen door opening for you. Even before things went to shit, you never had this – community. With each finished portrait, you find yourself making a new friend.

You should be happy now. You know that. Your parasympathetic nervous system has had an opportunity to return to its normal state for the first time in years. You have the warmth of friends, and people like you. Like actually like you. They like what you’re doing, what you’re creating.

But you aren’t.

Because while you’re capturing the entire town's attention, you’re starting to realize you only care about attention when it’s from one person.

And unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to give two shits about you or what you create.

As you lay in bed that night, fidgeting with your necklace, you stare up at the ceiling and think about what started this whole infatuation in the first place. It was a drunken night, hardly anything. Not even a story worth repeating. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it. It was nothing.

But as you feel sleep calling you into its abyss, you remember the way his voice called your name that night and the heavy feeling of his gaze on your chest.

It was nothing.

Nothing.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming about him that night.

++++

Being the town's only artist comes with its price. While most of the time you don’t mind the endless stream of hellos and requests for additional portraits, you’re not up for much conversation this morning.

You slept like absolute shit last night and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep through the night, you might as well be productive with your time. When your eyes fluttered closed thinking of what, and who, to draw, the image of Joel sipping a cup of coffee in the dining hall, reading an old Western book from your library, played on the screen of your heavy lids. You decided to put your feelings on paper and start a new portrait. After you woke up from your dream, probably around 3 am you guessed, you stayed up late enough to see the sun rise over the horizon, before eventually deciding that it was too late, early for most, to go to bed now.

Seeking solitude and shielding yourself from prying eyes, you make yourself at home in the stables. You perch on a weathered stool in the corner of the barn, perfectly positioned in the corner so your back is supported, and begin sketching the handsome grump. As if he was right in front of you, his features are regal; sharp jawline decorated with a salt and pepper beard, one of the patches faintly shaped like a heart, dark brown eyes that resemble those of a deer, the crinkled lines around his eyes and forehead that serve as proof of age. Arguably your favorite feature is his nose. Prominent, aquiline, like a bow that perfectly ties all of his facial features together. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man.

Completely immersed in your world, you lose track of time. You could have been sketching for twenty minutes or three hours, who’s to say. Exhaustion envelopes you in an embrace and you doze off in a peaceful slumber.

When Joel enters the stable for his morning shift, he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye; perched up on a rickety old stool, head slumped over, resting on the wooden edge of the barn. Your arms are wrapped snuggly around your chest as if to keep yourself warm in the dewy morning air. As he approaches closer, treading carefully against the hay as if he were a cat trying to sneak up on its prey, he takes in the finer details of you peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware.

There’s charcoal on your hands, your lips are slightly parted and there’s a little glisten of drool pooling in the corner of your lips, and your hair slightly covers your face. Jesus, he thinks you’re gorgeous awake, but seeing you asleep – so vulnerable and tender – nearly causes his heart to skip a beat. He tries to ignore what it does to his cock. He knows you’re an artist, but with the way you look right now, hell, you might as well be the artwork, too.

He thinks he could stare at you for hours, but there’s something more pressing for him to look at first. He’s seen you carry your trusty notebook around, rarely ever setting it down, and certainly being very guarded when you have it cracked open around others – especially him. So when he sees it lying on the ground, he thinks…what could one look hurt? He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He’ll be satisfied once he knows what you’re hiding in there. Surely. One look, and he’ll wake you and that will be it.

After all, it’s just a peek.

He’s not quite sure what he expected, but this was most definitely not it. As if he were looking into a mirror, his reflection stares back at him from the dull matte of the pages. As he flips from one page to the next, he swears time stops altogether as he takes it in. Your secret.

As he scans the pages, something burns deep in the marrow of his bones, a fire and heat that exists only for you. Now that he knows your truth, he’s not sure he can stop what he does next. His large palm floats out to caress the underside of your jaw, and the pad of his thumb ghosts over the soft swell of your bottom lip. Before he lets himself get too carried away in his thoughts, he clears his throat.

“Mornin’,” a husky voice says, startling you. You all but launch into orbit and almost fall over like the stool, but the owner of the intruding voice grabs your elbow before your backside collides with the floor. You’re relieved to see that your saving grace is Joel, yet you’re burning with embarrassment at your clumsiness.

Joel clears his throat before speaking with his hand still grasping your elbow, “M’pologies, didn’t mean to startle ya, sweetheart.”

”Oh no, I was just…” you sputter out, still finding your bearings. He reluctantly removes you from his grip but not without letting his fingers trail across your skin as he lets go. The ghost of his touch is a noticeable one.

“Didn’t sleep well last night, I take it?” Joel asks, a softness to his voice.

“Afraid not,” you say, kicking your heel into the hay, trying your best to avoid his eyes so as not to spill all of your fucking guts. I was too busy thinking about you.

“You’re in luck, darlin’. I have just the thing to wake you up,” he says, “and ‘m not takin’ no for an answer,” he says with a wink.

“I’m sorry, am I speaking to Joel Miller? Have you been bitten? Are you feeling alright?” you joke, placing the back of your hand up to his forehead, a giant smile on your face.

“My reputation of being Jackson’s own Boo Radley precedes me, I see,” he jokes back.

You shoot him a look that says who the fuck is Boo Radley? Instead of giving you an explanation, he just chuckles like it’s an inside joke.

“Come on now, we’re goin’ for a ride,” he says with finality.

You try to ignore the heat that stirs low in your belly at the thought of riding with Joel Miller as he guides you deeper into the stables.

++++

The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the picturesque landscape of Jackson. Situated in front of Joel on the horse, you close your eyes and exhale all the air from your lungs. You hold your lack of breath for a moment, before feeling your lower belly rise, taking in the crisp air laced with the scent of wildflowers and fresh blades of grass in through your nostrils.

Joel is an easy-riding partner. He doesn’t say much, yet you feel secure in his presence with your back nestled up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped around you, his capable hands holding the reigns, guiding the horse through the scenic trail with ease. You rub your eyes for a moment before opening them to take in the breathtaking view of the snow-capped mountains far off in the distance, and the lush green meadows that surround you. You almost forgot beauty like this could exist.

Joel turns his head, following your gaze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his weathered lips as he agrees, "Looks like a good spot to take a break."

Guiding the horse toward the field, you both dismount and allow the horse to graze freely. Joel suddenly remembers he has a blanket tucked away in his saddlebag. He retrieves it and spreads it out in the clearing amidst the vibrant flowers.

Seated on the blanket, you unravel the satchel from over your shoulder and place it on the ground by your side while you simultaneously marvel at the beauty surrounding you. The sun plays hide-and-seek through the branches of nearby trees, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Joel settles beside you, gazing out at the open expanse.

As you bask in the splendor of the spring day, your attention fully absorbed by the vibrant beauty surrounding you, you inadvertently miss the subtle shift in Joel's focus. His gaze transitions from the scenic view to rest upon you. In a moment of silent admiration, he drinks in the essence of your being. His eyes trace the contours of your profile, lingering on the way the sunlight plays in your hair, transforming it into a golden halo that only seems to make his mouth water more.

He admires the view of you propped up on your elbows, eyes closed, heart center shining toward the sun, the swell of your breasts painted like a picture before him.

“Tell me your greatest desires,” he says.

As you open your eyes and turn to face him, as swift as the breeze you feel in your hair, you feel all of the air escape your lungs. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man. You’re momentarily lost in your own world as you admire the way he looks like this; relaxed, basking in the sun on a checkered blanket. His dark brown eyes are now a soft shade of amber, the silver streaks are a little more prominent in the sunlight, and the furrow of his brow has lessened.

“Alright. Tell me a secret” you respond, the corners of your lips threaten to turn up in a smile. You press up off your elbows and roll onto one on your side to face him.

“Isn’t that the same?” he asks, responding to your movement, mirroring it.

Now face-to-face, and chest-to-chest with him, inches only separating your bodies, you pause and let your eyes flint to his lips.

“Anyone can see your desires, no one knows what’s in your heart,” you say.

“Tell me something,” he says.

“I still dream of the taste of McDonald’s french fries,” you say, “and I’m not sure I know how to feel happiness anymore,” you say, as a matter a fact.

Your words reverb through his ears, and he stares at you in silence, unsure of how to respond.

“I used to be a contractor,” he admits, “and I had a daughter named Sarah.”

You look at him with soft, wide eyes. Pain is visible on your face, taking in what he’s yet to say. When you don’t respond, he adds, “She died in my arms on Outbreak day,” he admits, averting his gaze over your shoulder. His hands have somehow navigated to find a single blade of grass that he toys with in between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you pause in silence. Like your words could ever make up for his loss. Everyone had lost someone at this point, but the way he said it, you could tell it still felt fresh to him.

“It’s alright, Darlin’, next confession,” he says, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“Ellie,” you chuckle, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She’s such a pain in my ass, but she’s probably one of my best friends right now,” you say. Like it should be embarrassing, you, an adult woman, friends with a 14-year-old.

“Yeah. Little bugger has her way of working her way under your skin, doesn’t she?” he says, bringing his attention back to the panoramic scene laid out in front of you. You notice the smile that graces his face. “Your turn,” you say, this time paying all of your attention to his profile as he stares out to the horizon.

“I saw your drawings,” he admits, even though every fiber of his being is telling him not to. Your smile fades from your face and your heart sinks. You swear the sun must have navigated light years closer to Earth from the way you feel your skin heat, your blood hot enough to melt bone. You might as well turn to liquid there, melting into Mother Earth.

“Wh–what? What do you mean?” you ask, your voice mostly a tremble.

“In the barn, this morning… when you were asleep. Your notebook fell to the ground, and well – I saw them,” he decides to leave out the part where he intentionally decided to take a peek, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing the ethics of it.

You’re nearly one with the core of the Earth, her heat drawing all of the moisture from your mouth, your tongue dry, briefly incapable of forming a response, before your brain lands on the following.

“You mean – you saw – yo,” you start to say before he interrupts you.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, once again, a soft tone of honesty behind his voice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening.

Mortified, your whole body goes limp and the back of your head falls to the ground. You scrunch your eyes closed as tight as possible as if that might somehow wake you up from the nightmare that this scenario is. You bring your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and let yourself absorb all of the nasty and icky feelings of embarrassment that cross your brain.

When you open your eyes, you start “Joel, I can explai–” he cuts you off with the weight of his body pinning you in place, his lips pressed against yours in an intentional, yet gentle, kiss. It’s stationary at first like he’s just trying to get you to shut up, to save you from the danger that is your thoughts. With your eyes still wide open, you stare back and try to rationalize if this is really fucking happening right now.

You break the kiss for a moment and look up at him, “Joel, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I haven’t overthought it like you’re about to,” he admits, staring back at you, “tell me you don’t want this,” he says, hoping you don’t. As if you could ever. When his question is met with no response, he takes that as a green light, and his soft lips once again find yours.

Your eyes flutter closed, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your fingers interlacing behind his neck. He deepens the kiss with a moan and grinds his hips into yours, the heavy weight of his center pressing deep against yours ignites a firework display of nerves in your body. You can tell from the package that’s pressed up against you that he’s quite big. The strengthening of your touch is met with a soft mmm from his chest, as his heavy frame pins you tighter to the ground.

His lips stray from your lips, kissing over the razor edge of your jaw, finding their way to the nape of your neck. His hot breath and the weight of his strong and capable body make you feel weightless, despite the pressure he pushes on you.

He presses tender kisses to your pulse and trails them down to the hollow of your throat, causing your breathing to hitch in your throat. His wide tongue licks a long, flat stripe up your windpipe, and his teeth come together in a little nip on your chin. Fuck. You let out a little cry of unexpected pleasure at the sensation. He pins both of your arms high up above your head, and his mouth continues its relentless pursuit on the bare skin of your neck and exposed collarbones.

“Joel, please,” you beg, your vision foggy from the thrum of your blood pulsing through your veins at a rapid pace; your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Gotta use your words for me, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he responds, a low growl to his words.

He’s barely managed to touch you, yet, you choke out, “Need you,” you moan, “need you to touch me more, god, please,” you beg, your arms still pinned above your head. Satisfied, he releases his grip on your arms, and both of his palms find purchase on your center frame, just below your ribs. He kisses his way down from your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and over your belly, trailing the ghost of his lips to the soft plush below your navel.

He hooks his thumbs under the band of your pants, and deftly pulls them off, alongside your underwear. He continues kissing down the gash between your thighs and pauses once his mouth is centered on your glistening slit. His tongue darts out to lap at some of your slick and you swear all of your senses cross at the sensation of his tongue.

Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit.

You pull at your nipple through your shirt with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you.

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and you’re so close. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are fucking primal and filthy.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he says, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me have it, soak my face.”

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my God – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop," you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. As much as he would love to make you come multiple times under his tongue for hours, to savor your sweetness like it was the last strawberry on earth, he’s starving for it.

He makes quick work of undoing his belt and jeans, before sliding them off his legs to free himself. Gripping his heavy cock in his hand, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes just the tip in, wishing he were less riled up, less desperate for the warmth of your body, but he finds comfort in knowing you’re right at that line with him, begging to be filled.

“Need you,” you beg, your doe eyes looking up at him. He’s had many people beg for things from him – supplies, food, their life, but you, god, there’s something about you, split open and begging for his cock that he can’t say no to.

He smiles, and slides all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He buries his cock deep inside you, to the hilt, so deep you can feel the tickle of the dark hairs that outline the base of it against your clit. Your pussy is so wet and tight, and holy – “fuck me, baby,” he moans, thrusting his hips out of you just barely before shoving them forward; the stretch of him is a delicious slow burn.

“Choking my cock so fucking good, baby. So good,” he moans before he begins to set a slow rhythm with his movements, letting you both adjust to the sensation. He praises your name and his breath catches on your collarbone, and he sucks a small mark there as he fucks in and out of you. When you whine for more, more of this, and more of him, this time he’s the one who’s lost for words. He might not know what to say, but his body responds in kindness, his cock thrusting in and out of you with a slow drag that drives you wild. All he can do is admire the beauty that you are under him, an angel on earth making a sweet, sweet mess, all for him. Just for him.

“Mmm, God, Joel – ‘m gonna, fuck, Joel, – right there –” you cry up to the sky above you, the clouds in the sky witness to your pleasure. He knows his cock is enough to get you there, but it’s not enough, not to him. Putting all of his body weight into his left arm, being sure not to crush you, he drags his right hand out from under his weight and it lands to cup your pussy; already so wet and so full. His fingers extend and find a home on your clit, and he begins rubbing tight circles on your aching bud in a way that makes you swear it must be nighttime from the stars you’re seeing.

“Here, baby?” his fingers continue their relentless pursuit of your clit, and he bucks his hips harder. He’s rewarded with the glorious sound of your moans reaching an octave that makes his cock twitch a little harder inside of you, “Jesus, sweetheart – gonna make me come like a teenager if you keep clenching like that, gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, an animalistic sound emanating from his chest.

“Joel, I’m gonna come –”

“I can tell, baby – clenchin’ so hard around me, want you to give me your all,” he demands, as he grabs your hair and tells himself not to come with you, too soon.

“No,” you choke out, staving off your orgasm. He stops his thrusts for a brief second, “What?” he asks, a bit bewildered. At this point you’re both a tangled mess of limbs, sweat beading on your foreheads, chests heaving. You intertwine your hands through his hair and gently pull at it as you look him deep in the eyes, “I want to come,” you promise, “I just want to ride you while I do it,” you admit.

You pulse around his cock at the confession, and with your truth still lingering on your lips, Joel pulls out and flips around so he's on his back. He steadies himself by the base and holds his cock straight up for you. You rise and position yourself over his center; you line yourself up against him while he cups your cheek with the other hand, “take your seat, pretty girl,” he says in a tone that’s just shy of a beg, and you do, feeling yourself slowly sink onto every inch of him. Your action elicits a throaty groan from him. Your eyes once again glaze over at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, so big, so deep. The stretch of him shoves out every other thought you can muster until all that’s left are thoughts of him in your brain.

In an attempt to get a better angle, he shifts his upper body up onto his forearms, as you continue to grind your hips into him. Both of your arms wrap around his neck, and you use the strength of them to pull him closer into your chest as you continue to slowly grind your cunt into him. You swear you can feel him in your lungs, and with the way your clit grinds against his skin, you’re nearly there, nearly gone.

A weird combination of emotions pools in your belly, part pleasure, part something else. You feel it creeping up your throat, clawing up the back of it like it’s manifesting its reality before it manages to surface. Heat pricks in your tear ducts, and before you know it, it’s such a big, bold feeling – a lion in a cage that won’t be tamed. Simultaneously, you feel a familiar tug at your navel, like a rubber band, stretched to its capacity, on the verge of a snap.

The orgasm that tears through you is so epic it causes your head to fall back, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head, your vision going static white. Your lower body shudders against his thrusts, and your inner muscles clamp hard around his cock as he fucks you through it. You convulse around him, doing your best to ride his thrusts and contribute as your whole body trembles. With tears streaming down your face, you press your lips against him. He wraps both of his arms tight around your chest, pinning you close to his heart, meanwhile spearing you with his cock. His thrusts stop for a moment, and he looks up at you, both hands coming to grip the sides of your face.

“Why are you crying baby,” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“You’re just – so god damn beautiful, Joel,” you admit, and your sobs come a little harder. If this were pre-apocalypse, you might be mortified by the fact that you were sobbing for a man you hardly know, all while riding his cock, but it’s not. You rest your forehead against his and let the tears continue to fall, a handful of them dropping to his cheeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, and one of his hands leaves your face, trailing down to gently grab at your wrist in comfort. “No, baby. That’s you,” he says, slowly continuing to fuck into you with a slow grind.

“My perfect girl, I’ve got you, baby, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he says, as he holds you and fucks you with such passion and intentionality. He fucks all of the love you haven’t let yourself feel in decades back into you. His cock fills every gap that has been left unfilled by every wrongdoing, every terrible, bad thing. He holds you like it isn’t the end of the world, but rather the beginning. He fucks you like his cock alone could fix everything, and at this moment, you’re confident it just might.

Still riding him, a soft “please,” leaves your lips. “Please use me,” you say, sinking your pussy down further onto him, so tight you can feel the tip of him pushing down on your cervix. “Want your come, Joel – need it, need it so much,” you beg, and oh god, he’s so fucked.

Joel was already on the crest of his release a long time ago, but here you are – utterly fucked out, riding him, and begging for his come. He’s a smart man, he knows he shouldn’t, but – you tug at his hair harder, and ride him for all you’re worth. “Fuck me, baby,” he moans, alongside a long slew of your name and other profanities, he only has so much resolve left, a resolve that’s slowly crumbling with each drag of your wet cunt up and down his cock.

You press your lips to his once again and he feels his balls tighten. The litany of pleas and the taste of your salty tears is what undoes him. Buried deep inside of you, he comes harder than he has in decades, spilling hot and deep inside of you. He fills you up with all he’s worth, painting your insides with white hot ropes of his seed. Normally you’re the artist, but right now, you’re his canvas, his fucking Mona Lisa.

Joel grunts and you collectively still your movements. He holds you close as he waits for the aftershocks and twitches to still, still plugging you, keeping all of his spend deep inside of you. He plants soft kisses all over your face and neck and caresses your hair. You stay like this for what could be hours, minutes, days. Time is a construct you have no concept of right now.

After a few minutes, he groans. Pulling out is always the hardest thing to do. “Gonna get off you now,” you say softly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, as you lift your hips and swing your leg over his body. Your pussy whines at the lack of something to grip around. A rush of his come dribbles out of you onto your inner thigh, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You roll over onto your back, and he does the same. As you both lay there, he grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You’re not sure what time it is now, but by the color of the sky, you guess it’s late afternoon at this point.

“We should get back,” you say, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds make their creations.

“Yeah,” he admits, only looking at you. When you avert your gaze from the sky to look at him, you get deja vu as you take in the sight of Joel Miller, his tossed curls and chocolate eyes, and you swear you’ve seen this sight before. Maybe in a dream.

You commit the sight to memory, promising yourself to draw it later.

“Will you sit for a portrait with me?” you ask, voice soft, once again turning to face him, but this time it’s different.

“Only if you promise to go for a ride with me again,” he admits, and you smile, a heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“Deal,” you promise.

You both lay there for what could be hours or minutes, you’re not sure. But as the sun looks like it’s about to dip below the horizon, you both decide it’s time to head back. You both get dressed, and he helps you onto the horse. You both leave your perfect little meadow, knowing that it will be there for you to discover again and again.

On the ride back, you reflect on a poem you remember reading years ago.

There are two kinds of people in this world, those who see the ending, and those who see the beginning.

And after years of living in the ending, you’re ready to let the girl who you were before out of her prison. Joel undid the lock, all you had to do was let her see the light of day once more.

A new beginning.

You and Joel ride back in blissful silence.

Once on the outskirts of Jackson, Joel simply says, “Maybe we should invite Tommy next time.”

But that’s a different notebook.

END

Tags: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @meabhogr @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #katiexpunk answers #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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lucybellwood · 10 months

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I’ve been meaning to repost this mini-essay I wrote for Global Maritime History back in 2015 for AGES and since today's dash is full of people lamenting the burden of Boat Knowledge this seems like the right time.

ONWARD FOR TALL SHIP ART TIPS!

I often get questions from people who are concerned that their illustrated boats aren’t going to be up to snuff, and the short answer is generally: don’t sweat it. If you’ve drawn a thing that has a hull in the water and sails in the air, you’re off to a great start, and if you consult a few handy reference images, you’re bound to end up with something that looks mostly ship-like.

HOWEVER. There are a couple things that often get lost in translation which—if you pay attention to them—can make the difference between a passable tall ship and a vessel that definitely looks like you know your baggywrinkle from your bunghole. Here’s two tips to get you started.

Flags in the Wind

Generally when we think of a thing that’s going fast, we imagine a flag streaming out in the wind behind it, right? Well, when it comes to square rig sailing, things aren’t always so simple. If the wind is coming up from behind a ship—or from the side—to push it forward, the flag may be flying in a direction you wouldn’t expect! How are the yards angled to catch the wind in the sails? What’s driving the vessel forward? Sailors often look to flags for a quick indicator of wind direction—use that thought process when drawing your ships.

Keep Your Shrouds Tight!

Those rope ladder-looking things sailors are always clambering up? They’re called shrouds, and they also form a large part of the tensioning system that keeps a ship’s masts stable and upright. Stays (lines that don’t move i.e. stay put) are arranged throughout the rig to maintain even aft-to-fore pull on the masts and prevent them from keeling over. Shrouds form the lateral component of that system, so here’s an important fact: they will not be saggy. No saggy shrouds. No saggy stays. In addition to making the mast unstable, it’d be a devil to climb in heavy weather.

Note: the ratlines (the “ladder rungs” of the shroud) can have slack in them—it’s the vertical lines that should be tight.

When the crew is “tuning the rig,” they’re putting slack in all the stays and then re-tensioning them to ensure that the whole operation is as stable as possible, so unless you’ve got a bunch of idiots running your fictional vessel, keep ’em tight.

And another thing…

I see a lot of people running their shrouds down to the deck, rather than alongside the vessel. Don’t do that! I mean, okay, sometimes shrouds do attach to chain plates on-deck, but most of your classic Golden Age of Sail vessels will have them running alongside to the channels. Also: they end in deadeyes to help with the tensioning of the line and to keep things stable, so don’t forget your deadeyes!

Honestly, these are the biggest things that I see artists flub when drawing tall ships, so if you can keep them in mind, you’ll be head and shoulders above the rest!

If you’re looking to go more in-depth with your research, I would recommend…

Seeing if you can find a modern replica of the type of ship you’re after and then centering your reference search around the name of that ship. I get far more extensive results when I’m searching for “Privateer Lynx” rather than “1700s topsail schooner.” Don’t discount the many photos tourists will have taken while visiting these ships!

Nose around on model ship-building forums. There is no greater boon to the modern nautical artist than these obsessive craftspeople, who will spend hundreds of hours replicating classic ships in minute detail—often photographing the whole process so you can actually see how the rig of a vessel is put together! God bless ’em.

And that’s all I’ve got! I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief foray into accurate tall ship representation. Fair winds and following seas!

#tall ships #boat stuff #maritime history #tall ship #maritime art #lucy bellwood #art tips #age of sail #personal work

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snoopyana · 2 months

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one night.

the sequel.

“can i be with you just one night? i can wear you out inside.”

in which you meet eunseok at a basketball game, after your boyfriend, wonbin, left you alone during a heated argument— and eunseok swoops in to temporarily take his spot.

song eunseok. smut. darkish? eunseok drops his whole “i care for you” facade and blames you for the whole situation in the end.

everyone knew what was going on behind the bleachers. it wasn’t necessarily a private place to argue. definitely not to argue about you eyeing his teammates a bit too long for wonbins liking. you had no ill intention behind your gaze, but he thought otherwise. his voice gradually rising in volume when you denied having any interest in any of the other guys. it was almost as if he wanted to say you had a thing for his members.

“oh my god, what’s your problem??” you cut the man off mid-sentence. the bickering had gone on for so long that his members would peek their heads in to make sure anything was alright. “my problem? my problem is how you were basically glazing them with your eyes.” that was far from the truth, and he knew it. wonbin only said that once he finally saw the other men listening in.

“are you SERIOUS right now? you ASKED me to come and watch you guys practice and that’s what i’m doing. do you expect me to only look you? god forbid i’m not an airhead all the time and actually act interested in what’s happening around me??” wonbin stared at you dumbfounded. his eyes blown, fist clenched. “i’m done.” walking past his teammates, he snatched up his duffel bag before storming out the gym.

rubbing your temple, you finally let go of your emotions. eyes stinging as the argument looped in your mind. “oh my fucking god.” slipped past your lips as you made your way from underneath the bleachers. quickly being were surrounded by the rest of his team and bombarded with “are you okay?” which only tipped you over the edge. going from a small stream running down your cheeks to full crocodile tears.

their words quickly turning into hesitant hugs as you broke down in the middle of the court. eunseok lead you over back to the bleachers, this time to sit down and most importantly — calm down. the others stood in a semicircle around you two. you face falling into the palms of your hands as you continued your small emotional crisis. silence followed as eunseok rubbed your back, the others standing there simply for emotional relief. looking at their phones, sungchan was the first to speak up.

“hey, we gotta get going. but if you ever need anything, i’m pretty sure we’d all be willing to help. right? just call or text.” his sentence was followed by a bunch of “mhms” and head nods. stepping over to your side, sungchan ruffled your hair before walking to pick up his stuff. signaling for the rest to follow. “you coming eunseok?” anton turned back to you two, realizing eunseok was still seated. “no, she still needs a way to get home, wonbin had driven them here and clearly he left already.”

nodding his head, anton waved goodbye to his friend, giving you another glance before letting the door close behind him. the buzz from the overhead lights and your sniffles echoed through the open area. he continued to draw circles on your back until light cries and sniffles turned into light breathing. searching his pockets, eunseok pulled out his phone. ‘8:46PM’ stared back at him. it had been close to an hour since wonbin stormed out, and 20 minutes since the boys left.

as he looked at his screen, he could feel your body shift. finally lifting your head up from your hands — glancing over, eunseok put his phone down to move small pieces of hair that stuck to your face. wiping your cheeks with the back of his hand as well. “you alright now? i can take you home or we can just sit a little longer.” moving his hand from your back to your shoulder. “i don’t wanna,” you spoke in between sniff ,” see him right now.” it had completely slipped his mind, you two lived together. “oh yeah, sorry. i can just drive you around if you want.”

giving him a quick nod, eunseok helped you to your feet — slipping his hand around your waist as he led you out the building and into the parking lot. opening the passenger door for you, he made sure you were situated before going to his respective seat. starting the vehicle, the first part of the drive was filled with silence and eunseok making random turns as you stared out the window.

“so,” he finally decided to break the silence after nearly 10 minutes, “what happened back there?” coming to a stop, the red from the light illuminated your face. “he was being fucking stupid. saying i was ‘checking you guys out’ when i was just watching.” huffing, you let your head fall back onto the seat. “like does he not trust me around other dudes or something? but if i started to act like that when he’s around women i’d be in the wrong!” crossing your arms under your chest as you thought about the whole situation. tears threatening to roll down your face for the second time tonight. “hey its okay, calm down.” reaching over, he rubbed your leg — thinking nothing of it for the time being.

“god. i swear he just wants me to cheat or something.” looking ahead, you took notice to eunseoks’ now still hand. eyes darting over to him, his eyes were glued to the road. “what’s stopping you?” the question caught you by surprise. “because i..”

you wanna say love him. don’t you?

eunseok pulled into a vacant lot. “because you what? you love him?” he was now facing you, waiting for a response. eunseoks hand lingering on your thigh. you sat in silence.

spit it out. you don’t. at least not right now.

“no. i.. i don’t.” humming in response, eunseok leaned over the center console. lips ghosting yours. he stayed like that in silence, his eyes glued to your lips. you were quick to close the distance. lips colliding with his.

when was the last time you felt this way? this desperate. how would wonbin feel if he saw you right now?

eunseoks hands found their way your neck, pushing you closer into him. his lips curling into a smile when you whined. pulling away, a quiet snicker slipped from his lips as you caught your breath. eyes blown and lips already puffy. “get in the back.” opening the car door, eunseok walked to the back while you quickly crawled through the center. once he was seated, he tapped his lap — which you eagerly sat down in. thighs on the sides of his while his arms stretched over your waist.

it’s not too late to stop you know.

pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, his lips found their way back to yours. feeling a little more relaxed, arms wrapping around his neck. a few minutes passed before the sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your trance. reaching for your purse, eunseok started to grind his hips into yours.

it’s him, isn’t it?

guilt started to kick in, this is cheating. “he’s asking where i am..” looking at eunseok, your eyes quickly started to gloss over. “tell him you went to a friends house. he doesn’t need to know you’re with me.” there was hesitation in your eyes, but you did as he said. throwing your phone to the side, his lips found yours again. a slight tremble in your touch while your hands snaked through his hair, and he noticed. his hand slipped under your shirt, massaging the skin — while his other cupped your cheeks.

it felt so intimate. would wonbin do this? did wonbin do this?

that feeling would quickly fade as eunseoks’ once gentle hands roughly pulled at your jeans. helping him, you tugged at the material, pushing it down until they laid on the car seat. pushing you to sit on his knees, the man pulled his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring up. “come on, we gotta make it quick.”

he seemed so much pushier now, what happened?

shuffling up to his lap once more, eunseok spits in his palm. giving his cock a few pumps before tapping onto your thighs — causing your body to automatically hover over his. lining himself up, the male pushed you down onto his hard-on. the stretch being even more intense from the lack of prep.

seems like he doesn’t care anymore.

he was now buried deep inside your cunt, giving you the bare minimum of time to adjust before snapping his hips into yours. eunseoks head resting in the nook of your neck — biting at the skin. “hey, no.. no marks.” but did he listen? of course not. biting harder as his pace increased. he didn’t even bother to talk to you. wasn’t this supposed to be distressing you? why aren’t you enjoying it as much now?

he was quick to finish, pulling out and jerking his way to his own climax. but you hadn’t reached yours. opening your mouth to speak, your words were cut off before they could even come out. “he’s outside, hurry up and get out so you can go home.” pushing your body onto the seat next to him, eunseok was quick to stuff himself back into his pants. opening the car door, wonbin stood just outside. eunseok slipped out, standing next to the other male. a small smile plastered on his lips — your lip gloss coating his face.

“this is your fault by the way. should have gone home.”

note- hii. i wanted to try and venture out of my comfort zone a little with my writing style AND themes. nothing too intense for now. i kinda liked writing this though. i will say it’s not one of my best works but hey, we live and we learn. if you guys enjoyed, please do tell me. i’d love to hear some feedback. also, can we tell i’m a little head-over-heels for car sex? like woah.

note 2- ALSO, took me less than 10 days to write another fic? are we proud of me guys? i feel like thats an accomplishment, im getting more confident in my craft.

#luvyujun #kpop #kpop smut #smut #riize smut #riize #eunseok #riize imagines #riize wonbin #riize eunseok #fanfic

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sofiaruelle · 6 months

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Oh wow, I was not expecting a whole drawing of them trying the dance and falling around. It's very beautifully done, I rmmbr just staring in awe for a while at first 🩵

I have another odd question about the she trio/ass gang, which u don't have to draw

Cause I saw a little video of Harvey going hard; dancing to MiseryxCPR(xReese's Puffs) and it had me laughing for a long while, and I wondered who would be the ones singing the song if say the stardrop saloon had some kind of karaoke night

My head tells me both Sam and Abagail would end up doing Reeses's puffs, but that would leave one of the other songs without a host :/

Harvey would probably end up saying stuff about how cpr doesn't require mouth-to-mouth anymore or smthn, and Shane probably worried Marnie would walk in-or just, too drunk off his ass having fun to care 🤔

nah man i just have to draw them. and oh look I even have another essay under readmore! 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂

✨Also my commissions are open! ✨ if anyone is interested! :D< please reblog/share the og comm sheet ,if you can! it would help me a lot thank you!!!

Honestly i can imagine them all just being pissed drunk before attempting to sing the song😂. i know fersure the SHE trio would require more liquid courage for it (heck even to join/start a kareoke sesh!)

Shane gives of major Kareoke Tito (uncle) vibes~. Yknow that one tito who specifically sings “My Way” by Frank Sinatra and has a bunch of classic rock songs under his belt. He’s not good at singing perse but he can at least carry a tune. He and Sebastian would totally connect with singing Misery. but like Shane vaguely knows the song (he’s heard it on radio a bajillion times but he doesnt know the name of the song so its not quite on his playlists) so he when he’s super sloshed and can barely read the screen, he tries to sing it from memory and misses a couple of the words. but hey! at least he knows the chorus and is in tune.

Meanwhile Sebastian has Misery “secretly” on his go to playlist. He doesnt admit it (the songs is too main stream and overplayed but he stumbled upon a vocaloid cover and rest is history.) He definitely always chooses the song every kareoke sesh (although not his first choice) and he’s passionate about it even has a little performance too(lots of head bangs, fist pumps and that classic 2000s disney knees bent together, feet wide apart moment)! For his duet with shane he’s the first to shed a lil tear and that gets shane going and they cry through most of the song in their own lil misery world ignoring the chaos around them.

Sam is a fucking menace for singing CPR and I do agree He and Abigail would go off on Reese’s Puff BUT i can definitely imagine being commited to singing CPR (we all know he’d awkwardly twerk). Especially if it was to troll on Harvey who probably thought it was a wholesome song about doing CPR at a specific BPM. 😂

Harvey good lird poor harvey! He’s probably the most sober out of everyone. It doesnt help that he’s no light weight + lowkey becomes designated baby sitter everytime (he’s soooooooo going charge them extra in the morning if they come stumbling into his clinic asking for some hangover cure). He was so excited about adding a new song to CPR tempo list he was gonna teach at the nex first aid classes!! Who would have thought that a singer with a cute wholesome name like Cupcakke was just so… sooooo SCANDALOUS!!! He should have known Sam was up to something the moment he grabbed him by the shoulder!!! “This is medical malpractice, Samson!!!” He spends the whole trying to sush Sam who’s having so much fun laughing at Harvey’s reaction 😂

Abigal. F e r a l.

Help! Elliot has fallen over! He honestly just has a mild peanut allergy but he has been drinking and hooo boi. thats not good. thank goodness Harvey is sobered up (with the help of Sam ofc) and has an epipen on hand! Catch Leah cackling from her seat by the bar before assisting Harvey.

#doodle #stardew valley #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sam #stardew valley abigail #stardew valley shane #stardew valley elliot #stardew valley harvey #ass gang #she trio #sdv sebastian #sdv sam #sdv abigail #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv elliot #TW: drinking #TW: allergy #good lird this was such chaotic night to remember

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hazenllas · 5 months

Text

Can't Get Enough II Hazel Callahan

Pairings: Hazel Callahan x reader

Warnings(?): kissing, tiny bit of angst, mentions of break up, fluff at the end

(Apologies for any spelling mistakes, english isn't my first language)

Summary: After 7 months without any contact with each other, you somehow end up at your ex's front door?

"So, your'e breaking up with me? Over long distance? Hazel, we can figure it out somehow. I promise you." You say with tears welling up in your eyes.

You are moving across the state because your mother found a new job and you have no other choice but to join her.

"Y/n, you know how i feel about long distance relationship! We will lose contact and find someone better! This is just the way it has to be, i'm sorry." Hazel states holding your small hands in her big ones while looking int your eyes searching for an answer.

"Whatever, Hazel. I really really can't do this right now. Have a great life i guess." You respond, not even looking at her so she doesn't see the tears streaming down your face. You turn away from her and walk away. Hazel made you lose control over everything since that day. You were a mess. but what would anyone expect? You were an 18 year old girl who just went through a break up with the girl you loved and valued most and put her before anything and anyone else.

It's been 7 months. 7 months since you moved, 7 months since you and Hazel broke up. 7 months of you and Hazel not speaking to one another once. It was torture. Fighting the urge to apologize from running away from the situation instead of properly ending things. Fighting the urge not to ask if shes found anyone new, because you certainly haven't. Trying to get through this breakup was hell for you and everything made you think of her. Hell, you found a drawing of a flower on the sidewalk pavement and you thought of Hazel.

You get a call from your mom that you will be moving back to your hometown to live with your cousin, PJ and her mom because your mom found a new boyfriend and will be going on multiple buisness trips and no one will be capable of watching you. Thankful that your hometown is only a few hours from here, you quickly gathered and packed your things to get ready to travel. As your mom is driving you towards your cousin's house, nervousness hits you as you remember about Hazel. since PJ is friends with her, you might have to face her.

You wave your mom goodbye, and she backs out of the narrow driveway. You knock on the door, as it swings open revealing a very excited PJ. "Hey Y/n! Welcome back!" PJ practically yells. She gives you a big hug and allows your to enter the house. Your aunt greets you as you greet her back, following PJ up the stairs, to her room. "So, I think we should invite the girls over, to come and see you again, and just have a little group hangout. Just like the old times!" PJ speaks, sitting on her bed." "PJ, ive only been gone for 7 months! it hasn't been that long." You respond laughing. PJ rolls her eyes and texts Josie, Isabel, Brittany, and of course, Hazel. "Listen, i know you might not want to see hazel after you know, but you need to talk to her a bit! She misses you a lot you know." PJ says, not looking up from her cellphone. you take those words deep into your thoughts. you can't talk to her! that is scary to even think about. You just shake it off and wait for your friends to arrive.

You are welcomed by a whole bunch of hellos and hug, each girl seeing you and running up to you. You can't lie, you missed them all while being away. "Wow Y/n, you didn't change much did you? Well, seems you just got sexier while away!" Brittany says, looking at you. Each girl is talk to you, well, except for one. Hazel. She kept her distance from you and the group and just stares at her white converse. It is like this the whole time the girls are over and it's driving you mad.

After pacing around an overthinking for the past, forever, you finally decide to go to Hazel's. You know its a bad idea but you can't take this anymore you need her, and well, to talk to her. After begging PJ to drive you over to Hazel's, because you don't have a car, she finally agrees. It is pouring outside so all the sound that is in the car is PJ cursing at the blurry windows ahead of her caused by the continuous raindrops. Finally getting to a stop, you are infront of Hazel's house. Or should i say, mansion. "Good luck champ." PJ sighs, patting your shoulder. "Thanks PJ. Ill text you when im ready to leave." You say, getting out of the car. You wave at PJ before turning towards Hazel's house. You take a deep breath before knocking on Hazel's door. It takes a bit, and you realize you a drenched from the rain. Hazel finally answers, looking down at you in shock. "Y/n? Shit, your soaked. Come in." Hazel gestures you to walk in. you whisper a quiet 'thank you' before walking inside. She quickly heads towards the closet with the towels, and handing you a purple one. "Uh so, what are you doing here?" Hazel asks looking you up and down. "I uh i wanted to talk, if that's okay with you Haze." Shit. 'Haze' a nickname you called her when you both were dating. "Yeah yeah sure come on lets sit on the couch." She answers, walking towards the couch. You both sit there, waiting for one to speak. "Hazel, im sorry, like really sorry. I didn't mean to just leave like that. We should have talked it out properly and and-" You rambled, being cut off by Hazel speaking. "Listen, it's okay. i promise, it was dumb of me to end the relationship when it was healthy and fine. Im in the wrong to Y/N." she answers, putting her hand on your knee. You look up at her already staring at you. you both stare at eachother before you break the silence. "Haze, I-.. I still love you, And its okay if you don't feel the same or youve found another-" You are yet again cut off by Hazel. But this time her lips are on yours. Kissing you softly. She hums as she feels you kissing back with just the same energy. The kis starts to get more quick, as you both kiss eachother with such need. her hands are on your waist as she pulls you up into her lap. You pull away for breath but Hazel stars kissing down your jaw, to your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses. You sigh in pleasure as you move your head to the side, allowing Hazel more space. You hands go into her hair, at one certain suck she makes that leaves a heavy purple mark. "I love you, i hope you know that" Hazel breaths. looking up at you. "I love you more Hazel." You say, as you lean in to kiss her once again.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan imagine #hazel bottoms #bottoms hazel #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fluff #bottoms movie 2023 #hazel callahan x you

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blueywrites · 10 months

Text

out to play

part one of the cottage: a beastly collection

werewolf!eddie x fem!satyr!oc, 8k

collection tags: all installments will feature monsterfucking unless otherwise noted. 18+ only.

story tags: 18+. established relationship, primal play, rough consensual sex, unprotected sex, scratching, biting, blood, pain, overstimulation, knot emergence, aftercare. 1st person pov. includes physical descriptions of the OC named Juniper/Junie.

here it is - my little writing break passion project! while this will not become a full-blown fic, I do have another nonsequential part already planned, and I am very open to contributing more to the monsterfucking universe 😌. If you have any ideas, let me know!

enjoy 🥰

In the wood, about a three-quarter mile by meandering path from the nearest village, there is a cottage. It is nestled among the alders, having been fitted into a small clearing like a creature smooths and flattens the ground to establish its resting place. This resting place is fringed on all sides by wild bramble, tall goldenrod, and soft ferns, which insulate it from any who may wander its way without being meant to.

The cottage is quaint. It has four walls made from large stones of varied shapes and colors, a mish-mash of protection borne by the earth. Its windows are shut up tight by wooden shutters, and it is topped by a thick thatched roof to keep out the bitter wind. Its chimney is cold now; firewood lies in a dwindled pile near the modest garden out front, ready to be stored away for the season. In the small clearing where the cottage dwells and in the forest beyond, all is still quiet— the honeybees are sleeping, and the birds have not yet returned from their migration south. But the clover is beginning to emerge again. Dew has replaced the frost. And today, the air is sweet with the promise of springtime.

We are out to play.

Only the barest rustle gives me away as I weave between the alders, step delicately over ferns, and skirt the thorny brambles with equal parts caution and swiftness. My hooves skip lightly over low brush, nearly silent; I take care not to be noticed as I pick along, weaving a meandering path through the wood for some time. I continue drawing farther from my cottage and its clearing until, guided by some intuition, I allow myself to slow and pause near a felled tree.

My soft ears flick, searching for tell-tale sounds. I scan the awakening forest, trying to catch a tell-tale glimpse of that which I’m evading. Yet, all is still. For some long moments, it is just me and my breath alone in the wood, and the prickling awareness that keeps me wide-eyed and alert to every sight and sound begins to wane. I relax; my bunched muscles ease, no longer ready to flee at the merest suggestion of danger. It is safe here now.

I take stock of myself. My bangs are mussed, and a blind attempt to tame them yields what is most likely lackluster results. Still, as I lift my thick braid from my shoulder, examining what I can see of its end, it seems to have held its shape. This consolation is quickly overshadowed as I move down my body and realize something with my dress doesn’t feel right. I smooth my hands down the linen, frowning lightly as I try to figure out why it is pinched and pulled uncomfortably around my midsection. That mystery is quickly solved when I reach behind me, unwedging the hem where it has bunched above my tail.

In my escapade through the wood, my furry rump has, apparently, been exposed for all around to see. I am bare beneath the dress, having donned it only for modesty’s sake in case I were to encounter someone unexpected here— perhaps a villager who’d wandered too far from the road, or some curious children following the stream too deep into the forest. Though, since I’d chosen a frock short enough to keep me unencumbered as I run, I’m now realizing that it might be more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I won’t bother with the dress next time. What’s the point? No one ever comes this far in, anyway—

There’s a subtle crackle nearby, and instantly, my prey-mind overwhelms me.

With a squeal of fearful delight, I take off at once, bounding into the brush. Knowing he’s been exposed, my hunter abandons stealth, and his pursuit becomes obvious now. Pounding feet race over old, crumbling leaves. Branches rustle and snap as they’re pushed hastily aside, almost close enough to brush me. When a familiar raspy cackle kisses the end of my braid, adrenaline bursts like goosebumps along my skin. I squeal again, but the sound subsides into a girlish giggle as I feint from him and dart to the left. With great commotion, the sounds of Eddie’s pursuit falter as he scrambles to adapt and continue after me.

Bits of my hair fall free from the braid. No longer neat, they feather my cheeks, blowing in the wind I create with my escape. I feel that wind lift my hair and ruffle the hem of my dress; I feel the ferns and the grass crush under my hooves, and I grin. My heart throbs as I race through the wood, thumping wildly with the euphoria of the chase.

In the winter months, we could not indulge in this game of predator and prey. The snow was too harsh on the soles of Eddie’s feet, and he always refuses to wear shoes, only relenting when I insist he wear them on our forays into town. Even with his tough skin, the threat of frostbite is daunting. Plus, though I am sure-footed, Eddie is more so; and as I would make every attempt to escape him, there’s always a chance my hooves would skid on hidden ice. I did not want his feet to freeze, and he did not want to risk me hurting myself. With these concerns in mind, we spent the winter occupying ourselves with other activities. But now that the ground has thawed and spring is here — on this, the warmest day in many months, sweet and fragrant with that new emergent growth and pregnant with supple dew instead of biting frost— I begged Eddie to play chase with me once again.

He’d seemed hesitant at first to oblige my request. His hand had cupped my cheek, broad and callused, his fingers tipped with blunt nails I always file short for him. “Full moon’s tomorrow, Junie,” he reminded me, searching my face. “You sure you want me to chase you?”

I nodded, my eyes bright and eager, and he relented quickly. Being cooped up without the release of the chase had been difficult for both of us. Eddie was too pent-up to put up an earnest argument, and I was too aflame with the promise of play to care about what time of the month it happened to be, though I knew that Eddie would likely be rougher than normal because of it. Eddie always gets a little wolfier in the days leading up to the full moon, something he and his friends jokingly refer to as ‘pre-lycanthropic syndrome.’ I know that he is more easily excitable, more feral, when his transformation is imminent. Today, as he pursues me with the intent to capture, the thought of that is quite thrilling.

That thrill spurs me on now as I redouble my efforts to escape. No longer do I try to be silent as I flee— the only priority now is to evade my mate for as long as possible, to fuel the stirring in his blood and mine. But at this first test of true exertion, I find my joints are stiff, still creaky from disuse. I had, after all, spent most of my time curled up within our cottage this winter, tangled in blankets with Eddie near the fire. Reading, dozing, fucking, nuzzling, murmuring, grazing, only to doze again and repeat the process day after day. We did this all within the comfortable nest we’d made for ourselves, wiling away our time until the spring finally returned.

I know I will become more limber the more I frolic; I need only to warm to it. But being what he is, Eddie needs less time to adjust after a long, lazy winter. From the corner of my eye, I see one of his broad hands sweep towards me, tipped with wicked claws longer than they typically are when playing this game. Those claws snag and tear through the side of my dress, and though I do not slow, the scratch blooms like a chilly sting across my ribs.

That pain only excites me more. I feel my arousal stir, mixing with the impulse to flee from that which is chasing me. I gasp for breath, my muscles burning as my body chooses which way to go in a flickering haze of instinct. My eyes dart over rocks and logs, ferns and bushes, moving only a split second faster than my hooves follow.

I don’t think too hard about where I am running. There is no way to evade Eddie forever; the chase always ends the same way.

And end it does. In a field of blooming heather, Eddie finally catches me. There’s a sudden heavy weight upon my back, a lurch, and then firm arms snatching me tight around the waist as I careen toward the ground. The impact dazes me, and I lay limp as we roll. The landscape becomes a blur of purple-tipped stalks until Eddie pins me down by my shoulders, looming over me.

When my doubled vision clears, all I see is him.

Eddie’s curls brush my clavicle, tickling my sweat-dewed skin, mixing with my braid which has finally fallen entirely to disarray— dark oak on pale wheat. My breath burns ragged in my lungs as I gulp deep breaths of air, staring up at my captor. I can see his gaze is fixed on my throat, where he my pulse is pounding beneath the thin skin there. Hungrily, he eyes me, panting out his exertion, revelling in the sight of his prey beneath him. And now that I am caught, there is no thought of escape— instead, I melt beneath him, laying pliant as I drink in each beloved feature of the one who has won me.

Eddie’s handsome face betrays his arousal— dark eyes wide, pupils entirely dilated, nose scrunched, mouth open in a grimace of feral delight. He is wolfier than usual, as he warned me he might be. His ears are pointier, tufted with fur; his teeth are longer, especially his canines. Both the top and bottom sets look wickedly sharp where they frame his deep pink tongue, which wags with each heaving breath— not quite lolling from his mouth, but close to it. I can see that it, too, is rougher and longer than it typically is when we play chase. The thought of what he might do with it now that he has caught me makes a wicked thrill bloom low in my belly.

Eagerly, I devour more of my mate. I trace reverent eyes over his corded neck, his broad shoulders, his heaving chest, his nipples tight from excitement, the sparse hair between his pecs, which is denser now with his partial transformation. My breath begins to quicken as my gaze sweeps over lean, angular limbs, a soft belly that conceals a powerful core, and a trail of thick, dark hair leading down from his navel beneath his britches. Those are tented impressively, and I shiver at the sight. Unconsciously, I draw my tongue along my bottom lip. I throb between my legs as I anticipate the reveal of his straining cock.

As the sight and scent of my arousal grow more apparent, Eddie becomes evermore excited, descending further into the animal part of his nature. With muscles coiled and quivering with tension, he wraps large hands around my bare shoulders, pressing me down to the earth and squeezing, as if urging me to stay there. His claws begin to dig into my skin. I can feel the cold sting intensify as his grip tightens enough to make blood well up around each sharp tip.

But the bloodletting is not frightening. It just makes me submit further to him. My eyes remain wide and doe-like as I gaze up at him adoringly, and my plump lips part just slightly. My mouth pools with saliva as I imagine him slipping in there— his thumb, his tongue, his cock, anything would do. My soft, fuzzy ears flick with anticipation at the thought, and my thighs press together, an ineffectual attempt to soothe the ache inside until Eddie takes care of me. I am his prey: helpless, docile. Entirely at his mercy, and so utterly happy to be so.

Typically, Eddie would now divest me of my clothing, perhaps by shimmying the hem of my dress up my body, or by untying the bows atop my shoulders and letting the dress fall away.

Today, our play is not typical.

Eddie rises up onto his knees, towering over me as the sun glints off his wild curls, casting an auburn halo at their edges. A small sound escapes me at the sight of him— proud, powerful, imposing for the wicked smirk that crooks his plush lips and the white tips of savage fangs that peek from between them. He would be a terrifying sight to behold if not for his eyes. Even when he is overcome with lust, and Eddie’s eyes are wide, frenzied, pitch-black with his desire, when he looks upon me, there is a softness in their corners, never overtaken by the violence he is capable of.

That softness is there when he pins my legs with his powerful calves, pressing tight so I will stay still and flat beneath him. When I do not resist, Eddie takes up the bottom hem of my dress and begins to rend it apart, exposing my flesh for him. I keep my arms curled in the heather above my head, watching as his claws make quick work of my clothing. It does not bother me to have my dress destroyed; the sacrifice is worth it to see how Eddie relishes in the sight of me pliant and obedient beneath him, allowing him to destroy my clothing.

The fabric tears unevenly, parting in jagged strips. I hold perfectly still as the fur of my legs is revealed up to the top of my pelvis, midway between my mons and my navel, where it transitions into skin. He continues up my body, and the ripped fabric flutters down like the kiss of a bird’s wings on my skin. Rip, and my navel is exposed. Rip, and my ribcage emerges. Rip, and my breasts fall free, with little pink nipples the color of ripe watermelon. Cool spring air kisses them puckered, and the sight pulls a low rumble from Eddie’s throat. It is clear from the gleam in his eye that the sight has tantalized him, reminding him of the other place on my body that is so brightly-colored.

I know before it happens what the sight will have him do.

Sure enough, Eddie’s warm knees are suddenly no longer crowding the outside of my thighs. I look down the plane of my body to find him discarding his britches with impatience, and then all at once, Eddie seizes me with needy roughness. My bare back drags against heather flowers made abrasive by the sudden motion. The feeling is unpleasant, as my skin is far more sensitive than my fur. Yet I do not dwell on it, more arrested by the way Eddie is parting my legs as he hefts me onto his lap, lifting my lower body easily, tilting me up until only my shoulder blades are pressed to the ground. My inner thighs stretch tight around his waist as he pulls me close to him. He plants me there, with my ass resting on his muscled thighs. His broad, clawed hands squeeze at the rolls of tender fat that mound up at the outer juncture of my hip and thigh, covered by soft, bristly fur. I sigh at the feeling, thinking about how Eddie often draws his nails through my fur. Whether blunt or sharp, I relish in the feeling of my mate doting on me that way. And I know he loves the breathy sounds of contentment I make when he strokes up and down my legs, scratching lightly as I stretch and preen and lilt into his loving touch.

But Eddie is not interested in tantalizing me with light, delicate touches today. Instead, his gaze is locked on the place between my legs where my fur parts to reveal bare flesh. It’s the deep, watermelon pink of my pussy— the same color as my nipples, but soft like the skin at my inner elbow, puffy and supple.

I feel a familiar rush of pride at the way Eddie’s panting mouth waters, tantalized by my sex. Drool glistens, gathering underneath his tongue as he salivates at the sight of me. I feel the rough pads of his fingers carefully spread my sticky lower lips, angled to keep his claws from catching my delicate flesh. I hope that he will lift me high and swipe that hot rough tongue through my folds. My fingers crawl along the grass in anticipation, reaching for the strong knobs of his knees. I want to hold them, to squeeze them in my grip when he buries his face in my pussy, ravenous for the sweet taste of my arousal.

But Eddie surprises me. Instead of lifting me to his mouth, he slots the underside of his hot cock against my heat. Pinching my plump lips closed with his thumb and index finger, he creates a tight space where he can rut along the length of my pussy without entering me.

I gasp at the first thrust along my slick, sensitive flesh, and Eddie grunts in satisfaction to hear it, rumbling deep in his chest. He is being quieter than usual— that is, he typically talks more than this, but it seems that with his transformation so close, he’s caught in the haze of his baser nature. He is communicating with his body and his sounds, and so, I decide, will I. I tip my chin and hum happily for him as he drags his cock along my hot slick pussy with one long, slow thrust, and he rumbles back in reply. Again, he drags himself along my heat, and my hips squirm in his lap; he answers with one more slow thrust, as if he’s savoring the feeling of teasing my body in this way. And then Eddie begins to grind against my sex with a rough, staccato rhythm, rutting with sharp jerks of his hips that have me throwing my head back against the soil, moaning out my pleasure. He gathers my slick with his fat cockhead and catches my clit every time he ruts forward— there’s a spark of fire at the end of each thrust, and I whimper as that delicious feeling begins to build in my lower belly, enough so that my tail begins to twitch, a tell-tale sign of my pleasure.

The little brushes of my tail against his hairy thighs show him how good he’s making me feel, and as I think about how it must look, him using my body like this, it flicks even harder, more insistently. But my mate does not indulge in what I can only imagine, though he could easily watch himself rut in and out of my pink lips if he were to tip his chin. Eddie does not look down to see the way his cock grows sticky with my gathering arousal. Instead, his wide, dark eyes remain fixed on my face, taking in every detailof my expression, feasting on my enjoyment. It’s as if the only sustenance he could ever need can be gained by the sight of me beneath him— my lower lip clamped between my teeth, my glazed eyes locked on his face, my expression so clearly transfixed by him, so entirely enamored with him.

Eddie sees the way I’m looking at him, and the corners of his eyes soften even more. He grins down at me fondly, but the movement of his body does not soften with it. It only intensifies. Each inhale becomes a huff, each exhale a grunt as he ruts harder along my heat, hard enough that his hairy balls start to slap against my ass. He maintains this faster speed only briefly before I feel his grip falter and his cock lose traction in the increasing slickness. But Eddie adjusts quickly. He finally looks down at the place we are nearly joined and watches as he pinches my slick, puffy lips tighter around his slippery cock, adjusting the angle of his hips to compensate. And once he regains his pace, Eddie ensures that it will not happen again. He abandons his grip on my hip to reach higher up, grasping handfuls of the flesh at my waist to pull me up against him.

It’s a commanding hold that ensures our slick, heated bodies remain pressed together tightly, as tight as can be without one of us being inside the other. Eddie grinds himself against my pussy, undulating his hips in a slow roll he is clearly enjoying, and I’m enjoying it too— enjoying the teasing pleasure of his cockhead catching against my clit, enjoying the sensual scratch of his wiry bush rubbing against the soft fur between my thighs, enjoying the way he gnaws his bottom lip and regards me through his eyelashes, his stare unwavering. I’m relishing in all of these things, yet before long, it is no longer enough for me. I begin to yearn for his next thrust to catch his head on the rim of my entrance. I want his cockhead to snag there, to pause for a moment as it threatens to breach me. Until all that is needed is the slightest cant of Eddie’s hips for his cock to ease right into my aching hole and stretch me open at last.

My pussy flutters at the thought, as if trying to entice him with the promise of its grip. When he doesn’t seem to notice, I begin to coax him with a slight rocking of my hips, biting my lip to try and stay my protestations, to resist the petulance rising within me. But when he ignores the language of my body, I am forced to make myself known.

My whine is a high, needy thing, quiet at first, then repeated with increasing strength and desperation until he cannot escape me.

This Eddie cannot ignore, and his eyes flick up to mine. His face is beautiful and rugged, his expression animalistic. That plush top lip is half caught in a snarl and those dark eyes are half-lidded, with eyelashes that almost flutter as he works his cock with my soft body. As my whining increases in pitch, I watch a flicker pass across those dark eyes— smugness, or knowing, perhaps, though Eddie doesn’t yet acquiesce to my request.

But I have caught his attention now, and having caught it, I know he will yield to me. Eddie may be the predator between us, but I have learned that what he truly desires is to give me what I want. Even if Eddie winds me up for his own amusement, in the end, he is too soft, too devoted to deny me for long.

So I play into my strengths. My brow pinches pleadingly; my lower lip quivers, pouting out for him, flushed darker from having been bitten and chewed on as I tried to maintain patience. I look up at him, doe-eyed and weak as I sniff and wriggle, whimper and whine. Please, I implore him with my eyes, still neglecting speech. Please fuck me.

That flicker of smugness in Eddie’s eyes is replaced by a deepening of umber to gold, accompanied by a gradual flush that raises high on Eddie’s cheekbones. He is moved by watching me beg for his cock, and there’s no way for him to deny it.

As soon as that understanding passes between us, it’s as if a string has snapped. Without warning, Eddie wraps his massive hands around my hips and, with an ease that is equally startling and arousing, he flips me over.

Ever conscientious, Eddie continues holding me around the middle to keep my chin and shoulders from slamming into the ground too hard. But I wouldn’t have cared. Not even if he’d been too far gone and I’d found my teeth scraping fresh, fragrant grass. My moan of anticipation is almost a bleat as my hands press the heather flat beneath me. When I feel Eddie nudge at the inside of my knobby knees with the outside of his, I scramble to assume a position he can mount me in. I arch my back and spread my knees, sticking my ass high in the air. The breeze caresses me between my legs, a cool kiss against overheated flesh, though even that brings little relief when I’m aching this way.

When that slight breeze is suddenly interrupted, I know that Eddie has moved to kneel tall behind me. His claws bite into my furry hips as he grasps me, his grip tighter than it has been yet today. The ache inside lessens as flutters of anticipation replace it; my heart throbs the whisper I hold back from voicing. Finally. Finally. Finally.

Imagine, if you will, the nature of my mate. Roguish, playful, and so mischievous, I sometimes can’t decide whether to kiss or smack him. I know this— I relish in his wild cackle and his manic grins, most of the time. So perhaps it should not have surprised me when Eddie’s cockhead presses against the thin skin below my entrance, sliding down, down, down with even pressure before skating right past my entrance and pressing against my sensitive clit instead.

Despite the promise of this new position, despite the way I’m arched and ready for him, Eddie chooses to rut himself along my pussy again, teasing me more. From this angle, he has more to reach, too, in his efforts to torment me. He slides up, up, up again, and I feel his cockhead slip between my asscheeks; the underside of his thick cock rubs along just the rim of my entrance and over my puckered hole in slow strokes that do not satisfy me.

Of course, I whine again. The sound is more rough, less sensual, almost a growl of frustration as if in some pale imitation of Eddie himself. And Eddie has the gall to chuckle. It’s a rumble in his chest, but lilted, almost a purr until it breaks at the end into the familiar sound of Eddie’s raspy laughter. My tail is wagging now— not in desire, but in impatience, with jerky flicks that convey my displeasure. I dig my blunt nails into the earth, trying to endure my mate’s teasing, but I am quickly passing desperation, approaching feralness.

I will need to play dirty.

I coordinate my plan with the slow withdrawal of Eddie’s cock. When his cockhead lifts from my lips, I widen my knees, lowering my ass slightly in preparation for what I will do. And then my next shift comes all at once— exaggerating the curve of my spine, pressing my shoulders flat to the ground as I reach behind me. Stretching my arms as far back as they’ll go. Grabbing handfuls of my inner thighs, inching my fingers inward, searching for flesh beyond the fur. When I find that smoothness, I turn my head. And with my cheek smushed to the heather, as the flowers smear the apple purple, I look back at Eddie, arresting his attention to my hole as it stretches when I pull my sticky lips apart to entice him. “Eddie,” I whimper, high and throaty and sweetly feminine, abandoning my attempt to match him in wordlessness. “Please, baby, I need you.” I tighten my fingers. Divots form as my plumpness mounds up around them, and I stretch open my hole a little farther. “Need your cock, Eddie. Please.”

Rough, quick, filthy, more wolf, more man, any which way— I don’t care how Eddie takes me, as long as he takes me now.

When his powerful thighs press to mine so immediately, I let go of my pussy lips, quickly raising my hips and tucking my hands under me again. I can’t see his face anymore, but this is it. I know it. And it’s such a relief to be stretched, to be split open when he enters me at last. We both whine simultaneously as we feel my pussy yield to him, welcoming him in with a lewd squelch, hugging him tightly.

So tight, and wet, and warm, only for my Eddie.

I hear him rattle a sigh of relief as his cockhead pops in. I imagine the way his face looks— eyes closed, lashes brushing his cheeks, head tilted, neck stretched, wild curls dipping down his powerful back. Eddie is finally fucking me open with short, shallow strokes, growing slowly deeper until at last he’s plunging all the way in, nudging up against the end of me. And now that he’s seated fully inside, I want it hard and rough— I want so badly for him to beat into me until my brain is fuzzy and my legs are trembling. In my wanting, I begin to rock back into him, moving myself on his cock in defiance again of the dynamic we have set for our play today.

Eddie allows me to assert myself for a short time before squeezing my hips again, holding me tight with a warning growl low in his throat. I’ve let you have your fun, that rumble seems to say. Let me fuck you now.

I am eager for Eddie to take the lead. Perhaps overly eager as I show my earnest submission, whimpering and humming as my hips jerk to a stop halfway sunk down on his cock. There, I hold still, turning my face and smushing my cheek to the crushed flowers again. I want Eddie to see my thoroughly docile expression, my innocent eyes, my downturned ears. My small tail falls slack, and if he were closer— if he were pressed all the way up inside me— I would trace a soothing pattern with its tip along his soft belly, hoping he would accept the gesture.

Eddie smiles, a slow grin full of heat and satisfaction, and I uncrick my neck as I see that he is not upset with me. The relief mixes headily with my arousal, and I press back into his touch as he grabs palmfuls of my ass, fanning his fingers in my soft fur. I feel him spread my cheeks, hear him hiss as he sees the evidence of my desire for him. He plays with me— pushing himself slowly in to watch my cream gather thick around my entrance. I can feel it beginning to mat the hair that frames my bright pink lips, and I imagine my arousal dragging sticky along his thickness, coating the hot flush of his skin and his throbbing veins as he inches out and back in, over and over. I know he will do this for as long as he likes. I am happy to let him, to be the plaything he has caught, stretched out on his thick cock.

And almost better than the way Eddie is making me feel is the evidence of his own enjoyment. Little absent sounds of satisfaction murmured under his breath. His claw-tipped fingers flexing, grabbing, groping. The increasing desperation behind his thrusts as his pace begins to quicken. The brush of his soft belly against my tail as he begins to curl his body over me, seeking more leverage. Lost in the feeling of my squeezing heat.

Those little sounds soon subside to panting, and I lose myself in my own pleasure until something wet and warm drips onto my spine. One drop. Another, catching the first. Combined, they crawl down the slope of my back, slipping toward the nape of my neck. As they dampen my hair, I feel them chased by a new drop— a third, and then a fourth.

I realize what it must be: Eddie’s drool, dripping from his open jaw onto my back.

The feeling of his spit— the knowledge that I have him so drunk on my pussy that his mouth is just hanging open in absent enjoyment— makes me flush warm with giddy pleasure. A warm spread of happiness in my chest; a sparkling, tightening heat low in my belly, like embers of a flame. I seek to grow that burn; unconsciously, I roll my hips, rubbing Eddie’s tip inside me.

As if in a coordinated effort, Eddie juts into me sharply just as I roll my hips. The effect is is startling— he ends up slamming in to the hilt so roughly that I feel his balls squish up tight against my inner thighs. It’s almost painful, but in the best way as I’m wracked with a sudden burst of intense pleasure. The feeling is dizzying, overwhelming, as if I’d been shot through with electricity, hoof to head. It punches a moan out of me, one loud enough to stir the wood around us; my pussy flexes and flutters on his hardness, my puckered hole winks, and my tail stiffens straight up, quivering from base to tip.

Such a visceral reaction from his mate must speak to the beast inside Eddie. He crowds me into the ground, belting his arm around my waist, squeezing me to his chest. His heavy warmth envelops me— tight, tight, so tight and sticky with his sweat and mine. The hold presses the breath from my lungs, which I regain quickly as I gasp as bright pain blooms in near the base of my neck— Eddie’s curls spill across my upper back, barely a warning before his sharp teeth sink into my shoulder.

I cry out, squealing a broken sound as he begins to rut hard and fast into my cunt. Suddenly, all I am is sensation, every nerve awakened as I flood with adrenaline and arousal. I feel all of it at once, and somehow each sensation so distinctly: Eddie’s balls slapping against my furry mound, beating an even rhythm. His corded throat rumbling as he hums around my flesh in his mouth. His warm breath fanning me as he huffs through his nose. And then the feelings converge into the sharp, cold agony of his teeth in my shoulder and the hot sparkling pleasure of his cock plunging into me.

The potent combination drives me quickly to overstimulation. I reach back and fist my hand in his wild mane of curls. And even though, as Eddie rocks his body into mine, each tug makes his teeth dig a little more into my shoulder, my fist just tightens as I endure the onslaught of sensation.

Tugging so viciously on Eddie’s hair isn’t meant as a complaint, but his decision to bite me was clearly impulsive, and perhaps he interprets it as such. He releases me quickly, and there’s both relief and disappointment in the loss of his teeth. Relief and disappointment in my conscious mind, but at this juncture— so overwhelmed by sensation— instinct takes over. By instinct, my body drives my actions. It hunches my back to lower my hips, which retract and squirm away from the intensity of that stimulation, afraid of my coming orgasm as much as it yearns for it.

I act on instinct, and so does Eddie; as I shift away, his predator-brain activates. I hear him growl— an intimidating sound meant to make prey freeze. I do. And I find my tail snatched in a commanding hold and tugged hard.

My furry knees drag against the crushed heather as I’m pulled back into the curve of Eddie’s muscular body. In one motion, before I can make a sound, he uses my tail to lift up my hips and sink his cock into my gaping cunt. I gasp again, and it chokes off into a pained moan as Eddie sinks his teeth back into my shoulder.

Eddie might be consumed by his predator-brain, but he does not rip through the muscle. The action is not to devour, to consume, but instead to keep me still, to take my pleasure no matter how overstimulating it might be. He holds me there with his teeth in the meat my shoulder and his hand fisted around my tail, fucking with feral, single-minded intent into my cunt. He wants me to fall apart beneath him; he wants to possess me entirely, to work my body to the point of shattering pleasure.

And Eddie will get what he wants. My heart pounds as he bullies my cunt, unrelenting in pursuit of my orgasm. My breath puffs out in little vocal squeaks, which grow more and more desperate and broken until the feeling finally surges up, powerful and dizzying and utterly unstoppable as it overtakes me.

It’s a euphoric release from a build-up so intense it had been approaching agony. I shudder, jerking as it crests and breaks inside me, and then pleasure is all I know.

In the moment, I am not conscious of it, but my cunt clamps down on him, squeezing hard— almost possessively— around Eddie’s cock. Almost instantly, his grip on my tail eases, softening when he feels it twitch and quiver erratically as I begin to cum. His teeth release me, and he growls again, but this time it is warm— possessive, satisfied as I writhe beneath him, caught in the throes of the blinding pleasure he has given me. My brain is blank, fuzzed completely stupid as I cum.

Slowly, I come back to myself. Eddie is still draped over my back, and I’m beginning to bow under his weight, my muscles weak and slack in the aftermath. Sensing my exhaustion, Eddie pulls out and turns me over, and I remain limp as he manipulates me onto my back. My chest is heaving, my body shaking, my cheeks hot, my eyes heavy-lidded. Dazed and absent, in a state of total bliss. I only realize I’d been screaming out my ecstasy when I swallow, and my throat feels raw.

With as much gentleness as he can muster, Eddie folds me in half. My legs fit into the crooks of his shoulders as he bends forward over me, bracing his palms in the dirt alongside my shoulders as my hooves hover in the air, tickled by the soft fur that tufts his ears. Eddie is a sight— wild, sweat-drenched curls, pink chest, a vein popping in his forehead. There’s desperation in his brow, the darkness of his eyes, and the pinch of his plush lips. I whimper as he enters me again, still achingly hard; I stare into his eyes as he begins to fuck into my sopping cunt, squelching into me with audibly lewd strokes. He fucks me slowly now, savoring the way my pussy hugs and grips him, the way she sucks him in greedily every time his hips draw back. I can’t help but stare up at him with such utter, mindless devotion, and that devotion is mirrored in his expression. Despite his need, Eddie clearly wants to relish in the feeling of me pressed beneath him as long as possible, and I can see how he’s fighting himself as his nostrils flare, his lips press pale and thin, and his brow begins to twitch, that vein throbbing now as he stubbornly tries to hold back.

Eventually, though, even that Munson stubbornness isn’t enough to prevent Eddie’s aching balls from their release. He’s pressed in deep, and I feel them brush against me as they jump and tighten. Instantly, Eddie is pulling out of me, dipping down, leaning all his weight on one elbow as he fists his cock desperately with his free hand. I look into his fluttering eyes, feeling his cum begin to paint my lower lips as he shudders and bucks into his own touch. When I cup his face, Eddie rolls his cheek into my palm, and then he whines. Confused, I watch as his eyes scrunch tightly shut; he keeps bucking until his chest is heaving and he’s panting fast, grunting on each exhale. A curious feeling blooms in my chest as he trembles, still fucking his fist; I stroke back his hair, concern turning to fascination as he tears from my grip and abruptly sits up, towering over me and throwing his head back in a strangled howl. I drop my aching legs and prop up on my elbows, reeling as I look down my body to see the swelling at the base of Eddie’s cock, so bulbous it’s visible behind his fist as he strokes himself. And then his hand grips my thigh tight as his howl turns to a long, low groan of relief; he nestles his fat cockhead between my puffy lips to cum on me again.

I realize that this must also be because of his imminent transformation— his knot, this second release. His hot mushroom head pulses as he paints my clit with hot spurts of his cum. Eddie cums, and he keeps cumming, enough so that I can feel his spend drip down my entrance, collect in the rim, and then spill over onto my fur on its crawling path toward the ground. It’s the messiest we have ever been. I can feel how matted my fur is around my entrance, tacky and coated in his spend and mine. He’s still stroking his cock slowly, and I can see that the motion is inadvertently spreading some of his cum over his shaft, thick and slightly opaque as it sticks to his flushed skin.

Eventually— after quite a bit longer than usual when he only cums once, which apparently is not always the case, I realize with a little thrill of excitement— Eddie stops cumming. He sighs in relief, his shoulders sagging. And in the aftermath, I want to scramble to my knees and take him into my mouth, to explore that new aspect of his body revealed to me.

But Eddie has other plans.

Despite his clear fatigue, he lifts my hips carefully before I can make any moves to get up; my knees spread as he bumps one gently with his temple. As I give him access, Eddie leans down until his mouth meets the juncture of my spread thighs and begins licking my fur clean of his seed and my slick.

I am a little envious that he gets to taste that mixture of us, but after a few strokes of his tongue, I sigh, relaxing bonelessly in his hold. It soothes me how gently he licks me, and it feels so nice that I don’t even mind waiting to explore his knot. I hum contentedly as his rough tongue drags warm and wet over my fur in long, gentle strokes. And once my fur is clean, he licks between my lips, all over my puffy pussy, dipping into my entrance too. His chest rumbles as he tastes my sweetness mixed with his tang, and I can feel the vibrations in the backs of my thighs as he enjoys cleaning me. My tail quivers happily, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to my mound before setting me down again.

As soon as he lets me down, I right myself in a sprawl of limbs so I can crawl over to him. Eddie must think I am looking to cuddle as I usually do after we make love, because he lounges back with easy confidence, propping himself up with an elbow and opening his other arm in invitation. But I am not ready to cuddle; instead, I want to explore his knot.

I climb over his leg and settle to his side near his hip, ducking my head, my eyes fixed between his thighs. Cautiously, with a twitching nose and flicking ears, I draw close to his slowly-flagging erection, looking at his swollen base with unfiltered, wide-eyed curiosity. He huffs tiredly in amusement, and spreads his hairy thighs further, allowing me to sate that curiosity.

It is hot and sticky— I can tell without even touching it. Eddie’s body always runs hot, but the heat radiating from this new emergence is more potent than I’ve felt from him before. Timidly, I begin to touch his knot with light brushes of my fingertips, ready to flinch back should it make any sudden moves. It feels stiff like his hardness, just as unyielding, though mounded up in a supple curve rather than a hard line.

His thighs tense when I lick it, and I realize it must be sensitive. But though he grunts and his muscles draw taut, Eddie holds still, letting me lick up the vague tang of his cum from his velvet skin until I’m satisfied. When I have had my fill of his taste, I rest my cheek on his wiry bush, looking up at him. His brown eyes are warm, the line of his brow eased as he meets my gaze, and with fond gentleness, Eddie strokes my hair. He draws his fingers through the strands, lightly scratching my scalp as I hum. But when his fingers skim the base of my throat, pushing back the hair there, they freeze at the same time I register an ache. It’s the bite I am only just starting to remember as my post-orgasmic daze begins to fade.

Eddie whines, high and distressed, his eyes no longer hazy but now sharp with concern. “Junie,” he croaks, and my name is the first word he’s said since we left the cottage. He reaches for me, and I let him pull me onto his naked lap so he can examine my wound. He prods around it lightly with his fingertips, and I feel my skin is sticky with blood. I scrunch my neck, tipping my chin to try to look, but it’s too close for me to see, and that just makes it hurt more. Eddie grunts in protest, and I sigh when he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing my face away from the mark.

I stare up at the alders, letting him fuss over me. I know he’s done when Eddie whines again and nuzzles me, pressing his nose against my neck in contrition.

“Told you I’d be too rough, baby,” he whimpers. “I’m so sorry—”

The words are mumbled into my skin, but nonetheless, I frown to hear how Eddie sounds almost beside himself. I take his face, stroking his cheeks and then his ears, rubbing them lightly between my pinched fingers in the way I know he likes. “I’m okay, Eddie,” I say quietly, letting him tend to me. Carefully, so carefully, I feel Eddie’s tongue brush over the punctures, and I keep rubbing his ears as he begins to lick the wound he left on my shoulder.

I am not concerned the way Eddie is; I know it will heal, and faster now that he’s coated me so thoroughly with his saliva. But Eddie still insists on carrying me back to our cottage. He leaves his britches and my tattered dress discarded in the heather. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his strong and steady heartbeat, which lulls me into hazy contentment until I crack my eyes and see stone walls and a thatched roof— our familiar resting place. I let my eyes slip closed again, and even so, I sense the moment he crosses the threshold.

Inside is warm, smelling of fresh herbs and our combined musk. I am filled with peace as he lays me in our bed, curling around me, keeping me safe with the heat of his body. My wolf and I are thoroughly worn, thoroughly sated. For now, at least. I am eager for what more we can get up to as the weather grows fair, and the birds and bees return.

thanks for reading! please let me know if you enjoyed it! 💙

#blueywrites #monster!eddie #werewolf!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #monster smut #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine

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e-vay · 7 months

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hey I saw that speedpaint video for Amy's 30th bday art you did and now could you please post some really old art of yours and how long you've been drawing for because I just started drawing and am getting a strange feeling I don't fully understand but feel will be alleviated by getting some perspective on how long it takes to get gud at drawing.

So I’ve been drawing my whole life, ever since I was 2 years old. And I’ve been drawing Sonic for as long as I can remember as well.

Unfortunately I can’t find any of my drawings that pre-date 2005. I am not sure if they’ve just been misplaced, or if they’re with my mom, or if they’re just gone forever. I went through a lot as a kid, including losing our home, so I don’t have a lot from when I was little.

But hopefully some of these drawings will give you some courage:

I was (and still am) obsessed with Phantom of the Opera haha

I made a bunch of weird comics. I really have no idea what is going on in half of them lol. Here are some panels from a 2005 werewolf Sonic comic:

This one is from my diary in late 2005

Here’s a mega drawing I did in 2006 so you can see how I drew Sonic characters as well as people and monsters:

I’ve posted older drawings in the past too but again I can’t find those drawings physically now. Here are some more from 2004 thru 2006:

The more you draw the more your art will evolve. Don’t give up. And please don’t destroy your old art! You should always keep your old stuff so you can see how you’ve improved!

#ask me #evayQA #old art #old stuff #my old art #Sonic trash

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alexfromjersey · 8 months

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𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 & 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

jenna x g!poc

summary: jah’s mother delyse makes a surprise visit ahead of schedule. jenna makes an important call.

warnings: mature language & partial smut

a/n: I don’t know bout you but I’m feeling 22 🥳. enjoy the chapter I’m gonna go get white girl wasted for my birthday 😁✌🏾

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THE NEXT DAY

"Fuck" You groaned. It was barely 10:30 in the morning, and the moment you finished brushing your teeth, she pounced on you. The sound of slapping skin and the background noise of HGTV echoed throughout the room. You thought she would have woken up with regrets because of last night but to your surprise, it was the opposite.

Your hands gripped her cheeks as you helped her continue to bounce. Jenna's head was thrown back, gasps and curses spilling from her mouth. She pushed your black tank top up your torso to reveal your abs. She needed something to keep her grounded in reality. Her nails scratched down your abs as she bounced harder.

“Jah…I’m about…to cum” Jenna gasped and her walls fluttered around you.

"Me too baby" You bit your lip. Your hands moved from her cheeks and traveled up to her breasts. You roughly squeezed them in your hands and after a few more bounces, Jenna choked on her moan and her hips stuttered.

At the sight of her reaching her orgasm, you hissed and you shot your load into the condom. Jenna collapsed onto you, out of breath.

"What happened to just being besties?" You teased the actress.

"I'm pregnant and full of hormones. My needs need to be satisfied. They're not going to be satisfied by someone else" Jenna said.

"Better not be. Until this baby is out of your stomach no dick, tongue, fingers, and/or other but mine is going inside you." You stated.

Jenna let out a loud laugh as she sat up and slowly removed you from inside her. Your dick proudly falls against your stomach. You got up from your bed and went into your bathroom to start the shower.

Jenna grabbed her phone from your nightstand. She opened the phone and was immediately hit with tons of messages. Some from friends just checking in. Some from Nancy reminding her about upcoming shoots. Some from Hudson. The last bunch comes from her mother.

Nancy The Manager: Couple of Adidas shoots and the Variety interview with Elle Fanning to do today. Lorenzo will be there at 12

Nancy The Manager: also just a heads up, Neil wants a meeting

As Jenna read the name, her heart dropped. Cornelio was the big boss of her team, he's the one who started Jenna in the acting business when she was a kid. She was so lost in her phone that she didn't even see you sneak next to her. That was until you scooped her up, startling her.

You laughed as a shriek fell from her lips, "You passing up the opportunity to shower with me."

“I would never” Jenna smirked and tossed her phone on the bed. You then sprinted to the bathroom, laughs and giggles sounding throughout the apartment.

🤰🏻🩵

@jennainmyortega: react to ur reddit

@ghostridingwhip: amp’s new vid

@highondatgreen: react to me nutting in yo mouth

@ghostridingwhip: @highondatgreen what’s wrong with u

@fnthechat: SIDEMEN VID OR DO CONFESSIONS OR EDITS

You set up your stream with some homemade lunch Jenna made before she left. Her team had her doing loads of shit today before she leaves on Monday. So you knew you weren’t going to hear from her til late tonight.

“Yerrrrr! What’s goodie chat! I missed you weirdos” You greeted your chat. Your chat instantly flooded with comments. You adjust your camera when you noticed it’s off centered a little.

@partymonsterfrvr: where u been? u just disappeared off the face of the earth?

“Listen, life has been throwing me curveballs left and right this past week and a half. But I’m due time I’ll reveal it to you guys” You took a bite from your food. A ding from your phone draws your attention to it.

jennaortega liked your story.

@user719888129: nah we know you’ve been boo loving 👀

“Assumptions! I ain’t no boo loving with anybody” You said and swiftly moved on. You went to your Reddit page and was hit with Stacey’s Instagram story from the party.

@ExclusiveShiestyUpdates: Jah on a friend’s Instagram story

“She’s just a friend bro. Davis and I went to school with her and her sister. Nothing more” You informed your childish supporters. You continued to scroll through making comments here and there until a video of you singing at the lounge pops up.

@ExclusiveShiestyUpdates: #VIDEO Jah singing at a local Bronx lounge

@munchiesinmycrunchies: album? now? asap? no rocky

“I don’t know. Still a maybe on the music” You said and finished your food.

Donation/@modernbussywhip: y’all see those marks on the neck I PEEP 👀

Instantly, you cover your neck with your hand. You subtly check in the camera to see if there were any hickeys on your neck but you saw there wasn’t anyway. You got bamboozled by them.

“Suck my dick fuckers” You joke and stuck your middle finger at them. The comments roll in laughing emojis and lmaos.

🤰🏻🩵

You spend the next three hours on stream, reacting to different YouTube videos, your Reddit, and for the last hour raging on 2K and Call of Duty.

You were sitting on your couch watching TV, until your buzzer to your apartment went off. At first, you ignored it thinking that it’s probably just the delivery man trying to get in. But it kept going off so you just got up and buzzed whoever in. You were just chilling on couch again until a knock is heard on your door. You furrow your face in confusion. You went to the door and looked through the peephole and saw your mother.

You opened the door, “Ma?”

Your mother Delyse or ‘Del’ as she liked to be called smiled and walked into your apartment, “I don’t know why I had this feeling like I should be here.”

“Right now?” You questioned.

“Actually, I felt it a couple of months ago but I brushed it off. But when I came back, the need felt stronger than ever. Are you okay?” Del asked concerned.

“I’m good Ma. How was Jamaica?” You asked steering the conversation off you.

“Wonderful. Your Gigi was asking about you, she’s upset that you didn’t come down” Del said and sat down on your couch.

“I’ll try to visit her later this year. I was busy streaming and making videos” You replied to her.

Del just hummed in response. You grabbed your phone and saw a text message from Jenna.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: I finished early. Thank god. You want something to eat?

NYC 🩵: nah…but my mother is here.

You watched as the text bubbles appeared and then disappeared several times before it disappeared completely.

Obviously, you didn’t expect her. You and Jenna wanted to go over ideas for how you wanted to tell her but all of that is out the window now.

“So…you out here hoeing around” Del questioned nonchalantly.

That made you choke on your spit, “Ma what the hell kind of question is that?”

“I’m just asking. Do as you please but be safe and don’t get any girl pregnant” Del said.

You chuckle nervously and turned your attention to your TV. You text Jenna a couple of more times. You and your mother continue to converse between each other until your phone starts ringing.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Can you uh…come open the door?” Jenna asked. She sounded a little out of breath.

“Just hit the buzzer for my apartment” You said.

“I need your help with something. Come down” Jenna stated. You agreed and put your hoodie and slides on.

“I’ll be back” You told your mother and left your apartment. You went to the first floor and saw Jenna struggling with some flowers.

“Damn girl, you brought every single flower in the world?” You chuckled.

Jenna giggled, “I don’t know what kind of flowers she likes so I got one of each.”

“So sweet of you. Future reference she likes orchids” You told her and took the big bouquet from her hands. You two went back up to your apartment and before you can even open your door, your mother opens it for you.

“Oh who’s this Tuffie?” Del questioned as you walked inside your apartment.

You sigh at the nickname, “Ma, this is Jenna, my girlfriend.”

You watched as your mother gave Jenna a look up and down. You felt Jenna squeeze your hand. A moment of silence goes by before a smile grows on Del’s face.

“It’s nice to meet you Jenna. You look familiar though” Del said.

“She’s an actress. We met at one of her movie premieres. The scary movie Davis was in” You said.

“Oh! That movie with the long mouth mask” Del said.

“Yeah Scream Ma” You chuckled. You set the slightly heavy flowers on your counter by her purse, “Jenna also got you these.”

“Oh thank you so much dear. I haven’t received flowers in a long time” Del gushed and smelled the flowers.

You and Jenna look at each other, “Ma, we gotta tell you something. Now, before we say it, I just want you to know that we both know what we’re getting into and-”

“You’re pregnant” Del said casually towards Jenna.

“I…I…how?” You questioned.

“Baggy clothing. Slight weight gain in the face. Come on I see all the signs, I mean I did birth two children.” Del stated.

Your mother sat down in one of your dining room chairs, “I thought I told you be careful Jah. You’re still young, both of you. You still have lives to live before being tied down with a child. A child is a lot of responsibility. Once that baby is brought into this world, it’s not just going to be you and her, it’s going to be you, her, and the child you share together.”

This time Jenna stepped up, "Uh...Mrs. Jimenez I know it's a bit unconventional, we're both still very young, and we're not even together-"

"First it's Reid and second...the two of you aren't together?" Delyse questioned.

You and Jenna both looked at each other before Jenna spoke up, "Well...no it's a bit complicated. But truthfully, there's no other person I would want to share a child with. We know there are going to be some changes in the way we live our lives. Every decision we make, we have to do with a child in mind but I'm ready to make those changes. We are ready."

You nodded along with Jenna. You saw your mother look between the two of you with curious eyes.

"Even though I feel the way I feel. I wish you would have gotten married first or at least be together but I'm going to support the two of you in all ways possible" Del smiled and hugged the both of you.

You were glad that was out of the way. Your mother supported you, even though she wished it was done differently. She can't change the past, only help the present and look forward to the future. Now, you just need Jenna's family on the same page and it'll make things 10x better.

🤰🏻🩵

For the next two hours, your mother and Jenna converse amongst each other. You fell asleep on the couch, hands resting in your pants.

Del took Jenna onto your fire escape to talk more. She had a glass of wine in her hand while Jenna had apple juice.

“How did your mom take it?” Del asked and took a sip of her wine.

“Well, I was originally planning on telling her when I visited her next week but someone told her without my consent. She didn’t really take it well” Jenna sighed.

“What did she say, if you don’t mind me asking?” Del asked carefully.

“I kinda haven’t been answering her calls. I’m scared of what she has to say” Jenna stated and played with her fingers nervously.

"Honey, let me tell you something. No matter what your mother says or how she feels, it won't take away the fact she will always love you. You can be the worst possible person in the world and she will still love you. A bond between a good mother and her children, especially daughters is something so special and precious. You'll understand soon enough" Del said.

Jenna smirked at her, “You betting on us having a girl?”

“Oh I know it’s a girl. Girls run strong in this family” Del smiled.

Jenna softly chuckled at that. The two woman sit in a comfortable silence basking in the NYC polluted air and police sirens from every direction. Jenna’s eyes then flickered to her phone and her mind starts racing.

She missed hearing from her family. She knew the longer she avoided them, the worse it’ll be for her. So she grabbed her phone and excused herself. She went back inside and went into your room for some privacy. She gathered all the contacts she needed for a group FaceTime but before she can hit the green button. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in.

“Relax Jenna” She muttered to herself and hit the green button.

It ranged for two seconds before each person answered the phone. Her sisters Mia, Aliyah, and Mariah, her brothers Issac and Markus, and finally her parents Natalie and Edward.

“Thank goodness, we were getting worried sick about you Jenna” Natalie said.

“Yeah, why haven’t you been returning our calls and messages” Edward asked.

Jenna sighed, "I need to get something off my chest first before everyone starts interrogating me. Yes, I am pregnant and yes I am keeping the baby. I know I'm young and my career is just taking off but I don't care about that stuff. All I care about is the person I share my child with, my unborn child, and my family. A family I hope still supports me."

Everyone except Natalie’s face was a look of shocked.

“Sweetie, why wouldn’t we still support you? We’re a bit disappointed but we would never leave you unsupported. We love you Jenna and we’re going to be here every step of the way” Natalie stated.

Tears start to gather in Jenna’s eyes. She was relieved that the pressure of telling your families were lifted. She was more ecstatic to hear that they will support the two of you with no problem.

“WE GONNA BE AUNTIES AND UNCLES” Aliyah screamed excitedly. Jenna laughed at her younger sister

"Are we going to meet the other parent anytime soon? Who is it by the way?" Mia asked.

“Her name is Jahaziel, she goes by Jah. We met at the Scream premiere earlier this year. She’s a YouTube/Twitch streamer” Jenna answered.

“No way JahBronxGamer! I watch all her streams and videos, I’m a huge fan of her. She makes me want to move to The Bronx. I just watched her stream earlier today” Markus commented.

“I’ll be sure to tell her that” Jenna replied with a smile.

Jenna spoke with her family a little more until one by one her siblings all left, promising to catch up more next week.

“I was scared to face you, that’s why I didn’t answer you guys.” Jenna revealed to her parents.

“Jenna, don’t ever be afraid to come talk to us. Despite the circumstances, we will always love and support you. Don’t ever forget that” Natalie stressed.

The tears start to fall down Jenna’s face, “Okay” she sniffled. She wiped the tears from her face.

“So…this partner treating you right?” Edward questioned.

"Technically, we aren't together but I feel things for her way more than I did Wesley. I just need to work out some stuff within me first before I get into another relationship." Jenna smiled wide at the thought of you.

Natalie and Edward look at each other before looking back at Jenna with a smile, "Well, we're happy you can acknowledge something like that and we can't wait to meet her."

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#jenna ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega x reader #nycxhollywood #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x oc #Spotify

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