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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

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You guys really got me to one thousand likes in less than two days.

I don't even know what's happening but it's pulling me out of a really awful writer's block.

I have more ideas than I know what to do with so expect a good bit of content in the future.

You're all incredible 💗 ❤️

Have some Shanks headcanons, ranging from fluffy to spicy. As a treat.

I was a little iffy about Live Action Shanks at first, since he was literally my first manga/anime crush ever. But he grew on me more with every scene.

Especially that final scene where he saw Luffy's wanted poster. I mean....

Lookit that smile 🥹

So anyway.

LA!Shanks X Fem!Reader

Shanks A — Z

A — Afterglow (How are they after sex?)

Holding you close and telling you how much he adores you.

He's going to give you anything you want. Anything.

"Do you need anything, sweetheart? I've got you."

You want a bath, he's going to run it for you, carry you there once it's ready, and help you bathe.

Food or a drink, you just lay down, he's got it.

Shanks is completely and utterly devoted to making you feel like a goddess after sex.

Showering you with soft, tender kisses and caresses and endless praise, rubbing his fingers between your wet folds to prolong your pleasure as long as possible.

If it seems like he's trying to coax you into another round, he probably is. Your're going to have to outright tell him you're if spent, because he can't get enough of you.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

You can expect it nightly. You're his princess and he's going to pamper you.

He might only have one hand, but dear gods those fingers are magic.

He's not asking anything in return, but if you're offering then he isn't going to turn you down.

Closing his eyes and groaning as your fingers work through the tension in his muscles.

"Oh, you're too good for me, love."

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot ot only at certain moments?)

If you're within arm's reach, then Shanks has his arm around you.

His main mode of affection is physical.

Pulling you you to his side, resting his head over yours, tugging you down onto his lap.

He wants you close, as much and as often as you're willing to be, and he does't give a damn who sees.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

Not really big on dancing, but if you want to he isn’t going to turn you down.

He'll take any excuse he can get to hold you close.

Tucking your hair behind your ear so he can rest his temple against yours.

His arm curled loosely around your back.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

He would literally move mountains for you if he could.

You tell him your dreams, well now they're his dreams too.

Anything you accomplish, whether alone or with his help, warrants the most lavish of celebrations.

He isn’t particularly materialistic, but what his princess wants, she gets, no questions asked.

"If you wanted the moon, I would make this ship fly so you could stake your claim."

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

All puppy-dog eyes and pouts.

Shanks makes it impossible to stay mad at him for any reasonable length of time. He's just too damned adorable.

Wrapping an arm around you and laying his head on your shoulder, refusing to let you go until you listen.

Even if it's a serious argument, the look of utter heartbreak on his face makes you cave every time.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just name it, I'll do anything."

He isn’t too proud to apologize—he knows when he's in the wrong, and he'll do anything in his power to make it up to you.

G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)

If Shanks is the one doing the planning, you can expect to end up one of two places.

You might be at the nearest tavern, going shot for shot on rum until you can't see straight, singing sea shanties into the dark hours of morning.

Or laid out on a secluded stretch of beach in the moonlight, sharing a bottle or two, wrapped up in each others' arms and lips and forgetting the passage of time entirely.

He's happy doing anything that means he gets to spend time with you, though, so he's fine with going out of his element if you have something else in mind.

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

Don't. Please. Just don't. He'll be inconsolable.

He'll cry. Don't make Shanks cry. That's just heartless.

He won't show it in front of his crew. He'll keep up his usual carefree and aloof facade.

But once he's alone, he'll be in complete shambles.

He'll probably drink himself senseless.

He loves hard, with every fabric of his being, and losing you would utterly destroy him.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Literally all the time.

Shanks always kisses you like no one's watching, pulling you flush against him and delving his tongue between your lips and squeezing your rear.

In his eyes, there's no wrong time to show how much he treasures you. How much he wants you.

His ship could be under fire by a full Marine armada and he would still pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss if the mood struck.

In fact he'd probably do it just to show the Marines how completely unbothered he is.

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

If Shanks isn't cracking some stupid joke, you're worried something is wrong.

He loves making people laugh, loves seeing people laughing and enjoying life.

And making *you* laugh? That gives him life.

He's gone far as to pull your panties on while you're alone together in the captain's cabin and imitate you being dramatic about something until you're begging him to stop before you choke to death on your own giggles.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

If you're within eyeshot, he *has* to kiss you.

He knows that his crew will roll their eyes and tease him about it, but he doesn't care. Your lips are like a drug and he simply can't get enough.

His kisses tend to be light and plauful.

Lightly biting and pulling at your bottom lip.

Flicking his tongue across lips to coax yours out.

Letting his tongue swirl slowly around yours before pulling back and leaving you craving more.

Pulling you into his lap when he deepens the kiss.

Lifting his hand to flip off anyone with the audacity to tell you two to get a room.

"Don't pay them any mind, princess. They're just a bunch of jealous pricks."

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He has to be against you in bed.

If you roll away in your sleep, he will subconsciously shift closer to you.

Spooning is definitely his favorite—your back and your ass pressed up against him, his arm draped over your waist so he can caress your stomach or lay his palm over one of your soft breasts...absolute *heaven*.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

Shanks is good with kids, being that he's practically an overgrown kid himself half the time.

All the same, he just...isn’t sure.

He loves you to death. Having a family with you would be a dream come true.

But if he had to leave his ship, his crew behind? He just isn’t sure he could do that.

Because he loves them to death, too.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

Shanks posseses the positively deadly combination of being unnecessarily charming and handsome, and incredibly aware of it.

Thus, his confidence is through the roof.

He knows he doesn't need anything more than a cheeky grin and a soft carress or two to get you in bed.

That being said, he'll spend all day subtly teasing you to the end of your sanity to make sure you want him as much as it's possible to want another person.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

Absolutely a giver. He's incredible at it and he knows it.

And he's a terrible, terrible tease about it.

Taking you to the edge, making your thighs tremble...and then pulling away to brush his lips to your thighs and give you a cheeky grin.

"Oh, not yet, love. I love hearing you beg for it."

Keeping you on the edge until you're begging to come in complete and utter desperation before he finally lets you.

And then he isn't going to stop until you're begging him to.

He loves recieving just as much.

Really loves it when you pull him down an empty alley and get on your knees.Curling his fingers in your hair, groaning quietly and praising you endlessly.

His breath shaking as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and fuck your throat, wanting to enjoy the slow build-up.

"That's it, sweetheart. Look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes while you suck my cock."

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Taking things too seriously. He's always joking around and having a good time, and all he wants is for you to do the same.

The silent treatment. It drives him absolutely insane. Just talk to him if there's something wrong, he wants to fix it.

Flirting with other men to make him jealous. Just don't. It's the one thing that truly gets under his skin, that could actually get him honestly angry with you.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

Gives you your distance if you need it, but he does so begrudgingly.

He knows life is short—he got his arm bit off by a giant sea monster, for gods' sake—and he wants to spend as much time as he can with you.

Whether you're out having fun, fighting alongside each other, or curled up together in a hammock sharing a bottle of rum and enjoying a lazy afternoon.

He loves being with you, and he'll take any excuse he can get.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)

Shanks's version of romance isn't fancy dinners and extravagant date nights.

It's lying on a beach watching the sunset with you.

Pushing you into the water and diving in after you, kissing you while you're both sopping wet.

Making love under a full moon.

Telling you every opportunity he gets how much he adores you.

"You know you're my greatest treasure, don't you, sweetheart?"

It's hard not to know when he tells you at least three times a day.

But the way he looks into your eyes when he says it still manages to melt your heart every time.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

Shanks isn't really much for materialism or consumerism.

You'll have to tell him if there's something you want, and he's not going to have any oroblem with getting it for you.

Every so often, something is going to catch his eye at some market in a port town.

Something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you'll like.

And he'll buy it without hesitation and give it to you with a big, goofy grin the second he sees you.

It's not all the time, but it makes it that much more special when it does happen.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

He absolutely trusts you—that's how love is supposed to work.

But he can get a little jealous.

You wouldn't know it from the way he carries himself and jokes about it, but he does get a little insecure about missing an entire limb.

This can lead to him getting a little defensive and possessive if other men approach you—he's going to make sure it's known that you're his lover, and he'll always fight for you.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

Loose-fitting boxers are more comfortable.

He doesn't care what kind of underwear you wear, as long as it comes off easily.

And if you whisper in his ear that you're *not* wearing any?

You'd best buckle up, because he's putting you over his shoulder and carrying you off to the nearest private, or even semi-private location he can find to take advantage of this information.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)

He is one hundred percent an open book with you.

You know everything about him. His life, his secrets, his aspirations.

He doesn't want anything to ever come up that could frighten you off, so he lays everything on the table surprisingly quickly.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

He would much rather cook, preferably with you. He's not the best at it, but he's not awful either, given that he's had to be self-sufficient for a good bit of his life.

And if you're good at it, he's not to proud to take advice.

Any time spent with you is a wonderful time to him.

If you go out, it's probably going to be street food or tavern fare—fancy restaurants aren't his forte, and he's frankly not sure he would even have anything appropriate to wear.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

Hopefully you like being teased literally to the edge of sanity.

Major kink for edging you, making you beg for it.

And dear sweet fuck, is he good at it.

Whispering all the things he's going to do to you throughout the course of the day.

Pulling you down an alley or into a broom closet, pinning you to the wall and teasing you through your panties, stopping just short of letting you cum.

Subtle glances and touches.

He *loves* seeing you writhing in his bed, desperate for his touch while he kisses your neck, just trailing his fingertips up and down your inner thigh.

Holding you down by your hips so you can't even grind against him.

"Such an eager little thing. Just be patient, princess. You're going to get what you want."

Kissing down your breasts, taking time to stop and tease your nipples.

Pushing your thighs apart with his knees so he can circle a finger around your entrance, chuckling a little at your moans and whimpers before finally pushing it in.

Sitting up on his knees to watch you arch your hips, rubbing against your g-spot just long enough to get you gasping.

Pulling his finger back out and slowly circling it around your clit instead, before shifting back between your thighs and giving the sensitive bud a few teasing licks, watching you shiver in anticipation.

Keeping it slow and sensual, enjoying every second of being between your thighs, building your pleasure at a slow and steady pace that drives you crazy.

Holding onto your hip keep you from grinding against his tongue.

Pulling back the second you crest toward orgasm, chuckling at your whimpering and begging as he trails his lips across your inner thigh.

"You're just so adorable when you're desperate for it."

Keeping it going for what feels like hours, before finally tugging you in close and not relenting until you're trembling and falling apart beneath him.

Feeling you throbbing under his tongue and tighten up around his fingers is like a high for him.

Not stopping until your body goes limp and the only sounds you can make are a few little whimpers.

Soft, tender kisses amd whispered praises at your neck and lips and shoulders, his fingers combing through your hair, letting you recover for just a minute, even though he's aching for you.

Grinding his cock against your wet folds a few times before sliding slowly into you, groaning quietly in your ear.

"Oh, fuck, you're tight, love..."

Absolutely savors every second of being inside you, moving in long slow strokes, brushing his thumb across your cheek while he kisses you.

If you ask for it harder, he's going to give it to you—he's done with teasing you now. This is about you now, about what his princess wants.

And if you want it rough, then you're coming out of it with your neck and chest half-covered in hickies, and he's not stopping until he's sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow morning.

Holding back just long enough so you can climax at the same time, grunting out a quiet swear and pulling your hips flush against his to come deep inside you.

Slow, deep kisses while you both catch your breath and come down.

But don't be surprised if he's gearing up for another round soon. He really can never get enough of you.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

It depends. If it's purely lust based, he's not going to pursue it very long and just move on.

If the feelings run deeper, though, he's absolutely shameless about it.

Relentless flirting and corny pick-up lines.

"Pardon me miss—do you have a map? It seems I've gotten lost in your eyes and I can’t find my way out."

Will absolutely get on his knees and beg you to give him a chance if he has to.

Puppy dog eyes in full effect.

It's pretty much pointless trying to resist.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

A bottle of rum, a hammock stretched between a couple palm trees on some remote beach only he knows about, and his arm curled around you while you lie back against his chest.

Kissing your temple and playing with your hair.

He's always more relaxed when he has you with him.

#shanks one piece #opla #shanks x reader #smut #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #shanks opla #one piece live action #fluff

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hazenllas · 2 months

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Heartless and Heartbroken

Pairing: Regina George x newplastics!fem!reader

Contains: a whole lot of Angst. The d slur is used like once, Regina being hateful to reader, Reader is a new student and becomes a former plastic. (There is no revenge involved though) I think that's it

Summary: being a new student at North Shore meant endless bullying and comments. That is until Regina and her squad walks up to you one day during Lunch.

The hallway is filled with students trying to get to their classes or some not giving a shit. You attempt to get to your first class, Chemistry. Once you walk in there many eyes stare at your figure as you try to head to your seat quickly. "Wait right there young lady! Class, this is our new student Y/n Y/L/N! We all hope you feel welcome here Miss Y/L/N!" The taller man at his desk who you assume was the Chemistry teacher announces rather loudly. You swear under your breath and give off a fake grin. You head to the back of the classroom where you see a beautiful Blonde woman stare at you. The first thing you noticed about her was her seductive smirk. She chuckles and turns back to the front chewing her pink bubble gum and typing something on her phone. The whole day sort of feels like a fever dream. You obviously had no friends just yet so you were trying your best not to look like a lost puppy trying to find their mom. As soon as you get home you fall down under your covers and drift off to sleep. You wake up to the sound of your mom calling you for school. How long did I sleep for? You question, you look at the clock and see it is 6:30 am. You rub your hands over your eyes and prepare yourself for another shitty day. After getting ready you head downstairs and grab an apple to eat on the way to school. You didn't have a car, but you DID have a bike. You didn't live much far from the school building so you got on your bike and headed to your location. Once you got there you saw a big crowd stood in place like they were frozen. You check to see what is going on and you freeze in place as well. There are 4 girls walking into the building. One of them being the girl who was smirking at you the day before. Who stood on her left was a girl with a cute face and Honey colored hair. Right beside her was a girl with dark brown hair who was just waving at everyone. Lastly on the blonde's right, stood a girl with strawberry blond hair who looked fierce but welcoming. "Those are the Plastics." A girl behind you says.

at a blink of an eye, it was already lunch time. You didn't have anywhere to sit so you just started heading your way to the girl's bathroom. "Hey sweetheart, come here" the blonde from earlier shouted out to you to get your attention. That caused the whole lunchroom to go silent. You look at the girl with a grin and realize just how stunning she is. She sits you down beside to brown haired girl and stares at you for a moment. "Hey, you're in my Chemistry class right?" You nod and she grins. "You're like really pretty." The blonde stares you up and down with a smirk. "Thanks." You reply with a soft smile. "So you think you're pretty?" The question confuses you a little bit. "I mean sure I guess?" You say with a questioned look. "Anyways, I'd like you to eat lunch with us for the rest of the week." The blonde looks in your eyes. You nod and she continues. "This is Gretchen." Regina points to the honey colored hair girl. "This is Karen" Regina eyes the brown haired girl and Karen waves at you with a giddy smile. "This is Cady" Regina points to the strawberry blonde. "And my name is Regina George." Regina holds out her hand and you shake it happily. Gretchen sets the rules of the table and what you can and can't wear on certain days. Having Regina and the plastics by your side wouldn't be that bad after all.

After the next few weeks you start to get closer to the girls. Karen, was the sweetest out of all. She was caring and was just overall so cute. Gretchen, was also nice but she could not keep a secret to save her life. Anything anyone in the plastics did Gretchen would run to tell Regina about instantly. Cady was pretty cool and she seemed to be a big people pleaser. You didn't mind that very much at all. Regina however was the meanest out of all. She was the main one of the group and controlled all of you. She was flirtatious and soft until you do one small thing and that is thrown in the garbage. She was very cold and pushy towards you and would treat you like a little dog. It hurt at most times but you remembered that if you didn't have Regina you would be the bottom of the food chain and would've been eaten alive by now. There were times where you could share deep things with her. She never did herself but you felt happy to be somewhat close to her. You also couldn't help but notice the growing feelings you had for her. She was undeniably gorgeous and you could stare at her all day if you could. You tried to deny those feelings but nothing helped. You ended up telling Cady about your feelings for the blonde because you know Gretchen would run away behind your back and tell Regina and Karen would just look at you confused and ask multiple questions. Cady helped you through these feelings and promised to never tell Regina. You thanked Cady and was so grateful for her. After days went on you couldn't hold it in anymore. Regina continued to tell you she loved you and stuff but you knew she meant it in a platonic way. Not any way you truly wanted.

"Get in loser." You heared Regina yell out as school ended and you were walking out of the front doors of the building. You see Regina standing infront of her jeep with the keys in her right hand. It seemed it would only be the two of you since Karen had tutoring until 5 and Gretchen's mom picked her up early because she ran the flu. You get in the passengers seat and stare into the sun. "What's up with you Y/n?" Regina asked while she still keeps her eyes on the road infront of her. "I dunno, I guess I'm just tired from school." You lied. You were nervous that you were alone in the car with Regina. This has never happened.

You both arrive to her mansion and she get out of the vehicle. You hop out too and grab your school bag. Once you both got inside you greeted her mom and Regina just ignores her and leads you both to her room. You lay on Regina's bed and stare at the ceiling. Regina does as well and you stare at eachother. Regina leans in a bit and you get nervous but try to relax. "Wanna know something baby?" Regina whispers as she caresses your cheek. You hum and she continues with her sentence. "I think you're pretty cool. I know I don't say it a lot but I think you are." You are surprised with her answer. Regina begins to climb lntop of you and brushes her lips against yours. "Can I kiss you?" The girl asks. You nod instantly and she kisses you roughly. You reply and play with her hair. She eventually moves away and looks at you. "I like you Y/n, there's something different with you." Regina says as you sits back up. "But I could never like you like that." Regina looks at her phone and starts texting someone. You get confused and before you say anything, Regina answers your unasked question. "Gretchen told me. She overheard you and Cady talking and told me you had a little crush on me. I think it's honestly sad how you think you could get me to like you back. I'm not some fucking Dyke Y/n. Get a life." Regins chuckles and you feel yourself start to tear up. Fucking Gretchen. You grab your thinks and leave the mansion. Regina doesn't follow after you so you start to cry more. You call your mlm and ask her to pick you up and you spend the rest of your night cuddled up in your bed crying your eyes out. You were heart broken. You felt so stupid. You knew that kiss wasn't something special. Regina was a heartless peice of beautiful shit who made you believe you were special. You called Cady and she stayed with you the whole night until you felt somewhat better. You had to prepare yourself for the next school day you had to face your 'friend' again.

#regina george renee rapp #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader

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kisakis-boyfriend · 7 months

Note

I wanna have public phone sex with Fremmy via the speakers in his diving helmet

Public Phone Sex

Pairings: Freminet x reader

Warnings: GN!reader, dom!reader, sub!Freminet, slight exhibitionism

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Author's Note: Oooohh noooo, he's going to be so flustered 😳 Freminet is 20+, as always~ Reader is gender neutral, but there is a focus on penetrating Freminet

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

Freminet was strolling through the city streets, helmet secured on his head so that he could drown out the people's chatter and the many possible sets of eyes that might point in his direction. He wasn't expecting you to contact him out of the blue like this. “Hello?” he answers meekly

You greet him with a smile in your voice, “Hey cutie, whatcha up to?” The little pet names you called him always made his heart skip a beat. He explained that he was simply on his way to drop off materials at the blacksmith's so that Estelle could create the magic pockets that Lyney had ordered before visiting you at the hotel

“Ah, perfect.” Was all you uttered, leaving Freminet confused for a moment. Perfect? What did you mean by that? Were you going to ask him if he could pick something up for you? This endless stream of questions was cut off when your sultry tone came through the speakers again

“I have a bit of a problem right now, and only you can fix it.” Now this made Freminet a bit nervous, what exactly does that have to do with his being in public? He gulped before attempting to ask what you meant, his question being promptly cut off by your next sentence, “What...what do you me–”

“I've been thinking about you all morning. Thinking about your pretty face and how hot you look when I fuck you.” Freminet's eyes shot open, inhaling a shaky breath as he stopped dead in his tracks. His cheeks burned within the confines of his helmet, unbeknownst to everyone around him

Every last shaky exhale of his could be heard from your end, seeing as the noises had nowhere to go. Freminet gulped, questioning you further, “D-don't say things like that... what are you even talking about?” He began fidgeting with the box of materials carried in his arms, kicking his feet against the ground shyly

The dark chuckle that hit his ears made him shiver, becoming antsy with each passing second. “Aw, my sweet boy, keep walking and I'll explain it to you, ok?” Freminet blinked a few times before working up the courage to continue towards his current destination. A stuffy warmth clinging to his skin while he walked on. “You've been gone for a few days now, ya know? I've missed you. So. Fucking. Much. Shit– ” Each word was punctuated with a sloppy wet noise, which earned a mewl from the timid cryo user

“Hear that? Hear what you do to me, my love? ” You growled, holding the microphone between your legs and moving your hand faster, letting your head fall backwards as wanton moans reverberated throughout the hotel room. Freminet's knees buckled, nearly causing him to trip in the middle of the street. He managed to recover quickly, clearing his throat and walking faster toward the blacksmith as if nothing has happened

“Y-y/n...please... this won't take long, can't you w-wait until I arrive?” He pleaded, breath labored as the growing need for your touch spread to his hardening member. Embarrassment flooded his being when he felt the wet spot forming in his shorts, thank the archons that they were dark blue...

Finally arriving at his destination, Freminet hurried to the table and set the box down in front of Estelle, praying that she was busy so that she wouldn't want to talk today. ...Luck was not on his side. Estelle greeted him cheerfully, waving and asking him questions such as how his siblings were doing, what he'd been up to recently, and asking him if he'd cobbled up any new contraptions or made any upgrades to Pers lately. Questions that honestly went in one ear and right out the other as the sounds of you touching yourself filled his head

Freminet fumbled his words as he attempted to respond, just trying to hurry out of there without coming across as being rude... His breath hitched when your voice broke the awkward silence between the two of them, “Baby...oh god– ” You moaned, raising the microphone back up to your lips. “Need you... I need that tight ass bouncing on me right now... Ooohh fuuucckk~ ”

A whimper unexpectedly escaped through his lips, followed by a twitch in between his soft thighs. Freminet desperately tried to keep it together, clenching his fists as his nails left crescent shaped marks on his palms. Estelle noticed that something was amiss, placing a hand on her hip as she asked him, “Everything alright? You seem a bit preoccupied.” Freminet nodded quickly, explaining that he actually had somewhere very important to be right now

The young woman nodded her head affirmatively, albeit still suspicious of his behavior but not wanting to upset him, apologizing for keeping him then bidding him adieu as she picked up the materials and headed towards the back of the shop to begin her work. Freminet sighed in relief, swiftly turning on his heels and speeding away

“My my, nearly got caught there, didn't we?” You teased as your partner sped down the busy streets, desperately hoping that no one would see the bulge in the front of his shorts. “I bet you're hard right now, aren't you? Probably dripping down your thighs too, yeah?” Freminet stifled a moan, swiftly ducking behind a large building and leaning against the back wall as his hand reached down to cup his erection, whining at the sudden contact

“Baby, I won't last much longer–” Your hips jerked as you continued pleasuring yourself, “I need you here to take all of it~ ” Freminet involuntarily humped his hand, his body chasing relief before his brain could do anything to stop it. Your desperate moans on the other end only stirred him up even more

“I need you t-too but... I-I can't walk around like this...” He whispered, heart pounding inside of his chest as his dick leaked more slick precum on the fabric of his clothing

“Then touch yourself.” You demanded, imagining the look on his face from such an idea. His eyes were probably blown wide open, mouth agape as he sputtered some excuse because he's too embarrassed. “C'mon, be my good boy? Lemme hear you work that pretty cock for me?”

Groaning while his dick twitched at the words ‘good boy’, Freminet relented, nervously unzipping his pants and pulling his wet cock out. Glancing around one last time to make sure that no one could spy on him from his hiding spot, Freminet wrapped his slender fingers around the shaft, pumping his aching length as another loud whimper escaped him

“Shit...I can hear how wet you are...” You moaned, licking your lips as your hand sped back up. “How's it feel?”

“Hurts...‘s wet and– Haah—!! ” Freminet cried out as he touched the head, mimicking the way you massage his tip, though it didn't feel exactly the same... He began stroking himself faster, the slick sounds of his ministrations coming through on your end only turned you on more. Just knowing that your shy little boyfriend is probably hiding in some corner or behind a building and pumping his hard, messy cock all because you did that to him

“Fuck...yeah– Harder, be a little rough with yourself.” At your order, Freminet pumped his dick harshly. Thinking back to one of the many times where you overstimulated him, jerking him off as if the world would end if you didn't. His dick throbbed within his hand, the tip an angry red and dripping precum into the bricks under his feet. Another minute of jerking himself off to the sound of your lovely, commanding voice and Freminet felt the familiar sensation of heat pooling within his gut, inching closer to a sweet release. “Hah...y/n I'm g-gonna...” He squeaked, voice cracking slightly while his hips bucked into his hand

“Cum with me, sweetie...make a mess for me~ ” You purred, matching the speed of his strokes based on the lewd noises coming through the speaker. Biting your lip as Freminet stuttered out a moan, the previous wet sounds decreasing as he came, breathing intensely while your own orgasm hit you

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #freminet #freminet smut #sub freminet #oneshot #requested

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sweet-honey-fruit · 2 years

Note

I saw you were asking for a request so I thought of something. What would the harbingers (Dottore, Pantalone, Tartaglia, Capitano, Arlecchino) do if someone hurt they're s/o to get information about them? Have a nice day btw :D

This this THIS! I’m a sucker for these kinds of things. It’s definitely a guilty pleasure of mine with these scenarios. Thank you for this, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Harbingers With Hurt S/O

Warnings: Violence, mentions/descriptions of torture and death, use of pet names, possibly OOC Capitano cause there’s literally little to no information about him, spoilers for Fatui Harbingers lore

Arlecchino

She doesn’t want to admit how badly her heart ached when she saw you walk in battered in wounds and bruises. Yet you still greeted her with a bright smile.

All she did was stare at you with a blank look on her face, wrapping her arms around you and giving you a kiss on the top of your head

You held a special place in her heart, so seeing you like this raised an unbelievable amount of worry and anger, but she wouldn’t let you see that

Her voice came out in a hushed whisper, swaying you back and forth slightly, “Tell me my beloved, what has happened to you?”

You’re hesitant, of course. You know how she can get, especially when it comes to you

But you especially know how she gets when you’re not upfront and honest with her

“Treasure Hoarders wanted information about the whereabouts of the delusion factory,” The moment the words leave your mouth, she brought you closer to her before letting go

Her face is stone cold, but you can practically feel the infuriation radiating off of her like a waterfall

It leaves you shaking a little bit, and you’re not even the one she’s livid at

She sends you to Dottore to get patched up, making sure to not-so-subtly threaten him to keep you safe and to not turn you into one of his experiments

She’s using these circumstances as a training exercise for some of her children in the House of the Hearth to gather information

Once she has the information she needs, you better believe she’s going absolutely batshit crazy

And I’m talking about leaving the Treasure Hoarders mangled bodies at other Treasure Hoarder camps to send a message

That message being that if they touch you again, she’ll make sure every single one of them will perish by her hands personally

Capitano

He’s not the type of man that pays attention to those that he deems weaker than him

He doesn’t find them worthy enough for his time

Yet when one of his Fatui subordinates delivered him the news that you’ve been captured and tortured by a group of Nabushi in Inazuma-

Well, he could make this one exception, couldn’t he?

He’ll seek to hunt them down himself

He wants them to understand the mistake they did for touching the only person he has deemed worthy for his endless time and attention

For every mark that was bestowed upon you, he will make sure he doubles it both in numbers and in pain

He won’t outright kill them, he wants to get back home to you as soon as possible

But we will leave them barely conscious

Surely the Rifthounds can take care of them. They gotta eat too after all.

He’s grinning the whole time he walks away

Hearing them scream for him to save them as the Rifthounds bite away at their flesh

For anyone else the sickening sounds of tearing flesh and blood curdling screams would be enough to show mercy

But to him it’s music to his ears

Maybe next time they would think twice before using you to get information

Dottore

He’s cackling to himself when he found out

The poor subordinates that informed him are quivering and praying to The Tsaritsa that they won’t feel his wrath

Cause this man is insane, but in that moment, that is the most insane he has ever been

Thankfully The Tsaritsa seemed to answer their prayers cause he dismisses them to bring you to him

Although one managed to climb up the list to be his next test subject when they declare that you’re being seen by a Sneznayan doctor so it “might not be a good time”

He snaps out a “I’ll treat them myself, your lucky my priority lies with them right now, otherwise I’d already have your flesh ripped away and replaced with metal”

He makes a mental note to do it later, for when you’re escorted in, he’s furtively seething

Littered in cuts and bruises, a deep cut slashed along your side, and lightning shaped scars surrounding it

He has a good idea who did it already, and why it was done

As he’s treating you, he’s tracing along the lightning scars, letting out a small hum

“My dear, tell me, what exactly happened.”

This man intimidates you from his voice alone, and you can’t even form the words to speak

Even though he knows, he wants to hear you say it, to just confirm that his anger is justified

Not that he cares on rather it is or isn’t, but his superiors certainly do

He can sense your timidness which makes him grin. He finds it so cute, but now is hardly the time to be having those thoughts

He reassures you that it’s okay, you can tell him. He’ll make it all go away. He’ll make them go away. Just tell him, he’s there for you.

And you do tell him in a hoarse voice, and he finds it pitiful.

Some Dancing Thunder Kairagi thinking that they’re entitled enough to put a hand on you, just because they believed you would tell them the Fatui’s plans

He doesn’t say anything after that, staying uncharacteristically quiet. Which is more daunting to you than if he were to spill out threats

He continues to treat you in silence. And once he’s done he’s escorting you back to your shared bedroom within the palace.

After, he’s having some of his subordinates fetch the ones that hurt you. When they are brought in, well, let the experiments commence

He’s certainly enjoying hearing them scream in agony as he tests out the effects of having multiple delusions. Hearing them beg, and plead for him to stop. But he doesn’t. He’s sure you did the same thing. Pleading them to just let you go. They didn’t stop till some Fatui Skirmisher’s stepped in, so why should he? But there wont be any Skirmisher’s saving them.

He’s making sure they suffer for a long, long time

Pantalone

“Oh, how pitiful” he states as he walks into Dottore’s lab

He’s been told that you’ve been sent there after having a— rough encounter, to put it lightly— with a few Shogunate soldiers

He saw the pure exhaustion on your face, and yet he still maintained a smile

“I can see you were determined to give it your all. But do not worry sweetheart, for I will fill in and give it my all for you.”

He won’t only hurt the Shogunate soldiers indirectly, oh no. He’ll hurt the whole Shogunate army.

Slowly, he would cut off their money supply through the Northland Bank (don’t ask how that works, I don’t know myself but for the sake of this, it works). I mean, you can’t do anything without the very thing that gives you the pathway to do anything in the first place, right?

He’ll watch from the shadows as the Shogunate army is scrambling for funds, and ultimately scrambling to regain power

It would take a meeting with Kujou Sara in order to settle things. His only request was that the Shogunate stays out of the Fatui’s business, and most importantly, stay away from you.

You know how I said he would hurt them indirectly? That’s because he’ll have others do it for him.

He’ll give some to Dottore as test subjects, and some to Arlecchino for target practice for the kids. He’s just as much of a supplier as he is a taker.

While everything is going on outside of your knowledge, he’s keeping you close to him. Holding you, walking you to and from work, and even allowing you to tag along with him on more PG related missions for lack of a better term

He’s a man of endless influence throughout Teyvat, and he will not hesitate to use it to rip apart the nations for you. Especially if they dared to touch you like they did.

Tartaglia

Definitely the most sane one when it comes to it, and that’s saying something

Especially since he’s the one that witnessed it first hand

As stated previously in another post, he’s already paranoid anytime you’re not around him since the Fatui have a lot of enemies

So when he went out looking for you since you took a tad bit longer to get groceries than it normally would, he found out that his paranoia was justified

Imagine his surprise when he found out that it’s not Treasure Hoarders or Hilichurls, no, it’s the Millelith of all people hurting you

“Well well, what did I just walk in on? Am I interrupting something?” He has a smile on his face but it doesn’t seem very happy

Perhaps that’s because his eyes are showing nothing but unadulterated hatred towards the group of men that think it was a good idea to beat you around for information on him and the Fatui

“If you wanted information you could have just came and ask me yourself, but instead you had to go out and dig yourselves your own grave. What a shame.”

He’ll instruct you to turn away, cause he’s pretty sure that what he’s about to do to them would traumatize you for life. He doesn’t want that for you.

When you do, this man is pulling out all the stops

Slicing and dicing, aiming and shooting, hydro and electro

He wants to watch them suffer, and he’s grinning like a mad man when he watches the life drain from their eyes

As much as he wanted to make them suffer more, he had to cut it short since he still had to prioritize you

He’s going to pick you up and carry you back home no matter how much you want to protest and insist that you’re okay

But this man is stubborn and he’s not having any of it.

He’s taking you home and cuddling you close, not letting you go even after you’re all cleaned up

His laid-back persona is broken as he apologizes to you, that he’s sorry that he put you in danger

Please reassure him that it’s not his fault and give him plenty of kisses

He’s not leaving your side for a LONG TIME

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin men #genshin men x reader #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #capitano x reader #arlecchino x reader #dottore x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin hurt/comfort #childe #pantalone #arlecchino #capitano #dottore

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binzlovenicetingz · 10 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Luca The Bear

summary: nsfw/sfw-ish, back on my will poulter tip, luca stans come get ya'll juice. like & comment to be tagged in future work. inbox is open!

A - Appetite

Luca has a bit of an insatiable appetite. Whether it’s for his passion for baking or for food in general, his desire is endless. Especially when it comes to you. A little bit gluttonous, even a little bit greedy you would say, pulling countless orgasms after orgasms from you truly never enough for this man. Luca’s appetite truly has no bounds

B - Body part(favorite body parts)

If someone had told you that a set of beefy, strong, broad shoulders could easily have you flooding in your panties would have had you laughing but now, whenever Luca is in your presence that’s where your eyes go first before your mind starts coming up with thoughts of having your legs hiked up and tossed over those same shoulders while he’s pounding you into the mattress

For Luca, it’s simple, your ass and thighs. gripping, squeezing, caressing, kneading, spanking, whatever his hands are always going to find a way near you.

C - Cream

Luca’s favorite cream is the one you leave right at the base of his cock when he fucks you just right. there’s nothing better to him tbh.

Another favorite of his is creampies. He loves the feeling of his cock swelling in your tight walls before stuffing you full of his cum, and pulling out just to watch his thick white cum leaking out of you before using his fingers to push it back in to keep you full of all of him.

D - Dining

The best way Luca gets any inspiration to create, he has to go and try new things, and he loves trying them with you. he rarely says no to trying new food spots that you found on tiktok, just don't be upset by his brutal honesty on the shittier places

E - Eggperience(get it? cause he's a chef)

Luca has some experience but he's not really the type to sleep around often, only 3 random hookups and 2 serious relationships so he has an idea of what he's doing in the bedroom but getting to learn your body and what turns you is the real reward for him.

F - Favorite Position

Doggy style or you riding him. His hands are constantly gripping and squeezing at your perfect body in any position really. The first time you rode him felt like an out-of-body experience, there were literal hearts in his eyes watching you bounce up and down on his cock with your tits in his face. Loud moans and whines leave your lips about how he's so fucking big and making you feel good.

Doggystyle is another one of his favorites since he can bend you over the nearest counter so easily and have you gushing in minutes. one of his hands wrapped around your neck while the other grips your ass, bringing you back to meet his powerful thrust that has your eyes rolling back and mouth drooling.

G - Goofy (Are they serious during sex?)

Luca can be pretty intense when it comes to intimacy but he can be a little bit mischievous if you've been acting like a brat tbh.

H - Hair (How well groomed are they?)

There's some hair just around the base of his cock but he's fairly well groomed for the most part. Luca doesn't really care whether you're fully shaved or trimmed.

I - Intimacy

Luca is actually pretty passionate during sex. Though his thrust is still powerful and with purpose in each roll of his hips. He'll need your body close, his face buried into your neck while he whispers absolute filth in your ear.

J - Jerk Off (Do they masturbate?)

Luca is a busy chef so he usually doesn't have time or is rarely in the mood to jerk off and once you two became a thing, jerking off is the further from his mind.

K - Kink

Praise kink. As mentioned before but hearing your breathless moans and whimpers about his big is and how good only he can make you feel, that he's the best? It sends his ego through the roof. He will also praise you or pet names, calling you his "good girl" "darling" or "doll"

Aftercare. It's not really a kink but it's something that he takes seriously. Luca knows that he can be rough so comfort and happiness are always his top priorities, getting you cleaned up, clothed in one of his shirts, and a late-night snack is usually part of the routine.

L - Location

His bedroom or yours, although he mostly prefers your bedroom while you actually prefer his kitchen counters.

M - Motivation (Turn Ons)

To say that you turn him on would be cheesy but you do easily turn him on. you acting like a brat or a sassy, “yes chef” gets him going. There was also one night you surprised him by wearing just his apron and nothing else. He thinks of that night often <3

N - No (Something he’d never do)

Sharing is not caring with this chef. So the idea of an open relationship or a threesome is a hard no for him. Luca doesn't want to share you and he doesn't want to be shared either.

O - Oral

Luca is a giver when it comes to oral and he loves it messy. I mentioned before that he can be a bit greedy, so he'll take his time when eating you out. Switching between flicking the tip of his tongue over your sensitive bud or sucking while he has you gushing around his fingers. Luca isn't stopping until your legs are shaking and you're left only screaming his name.

P - Pastries

Luca finds it cute when you make him something. There are only a few treats that can make his mouth water from just thinking about it and some of his favorites are made by you. He still dreams of the mont blanc chocolate pavlova you surprised him with. Eating any pastries that are made by you is the only time he's not shared with you.

You made it for him after all.

Q - Quickie (Is he into quickies?)

Totally into quickies. Luca often finds himself waking up way earlier than most but his craft does require a lot of fineness and time so he's usually up and out of bed by 3 in the morning so early morning quickies. He’s home later in the evening, tired and just exhausted from the day, a quickie before bed is not a want but a need.

R - Risk (Is he willing to try new things?)

If it doesn't involve sharing or causing you any actual harm, then he's willing to try something new once you beg him enough.

S - Smell

Luca's not a weirdo, but he has secretly sniffed you before maybe once or twice. Once when you stood in front of him in line waiting to order, chatting away about some imported Ecuadorian Chocolate you ordered when someone behind Luca bumps into him, causing him to stumble forward just a bit but successfully stopped himself but he was so close to you now, close enough that he caught a whiff of coconut and almonds. It was on his mind for the rest of the day, so much so that he got inspired to make dessert.

T = Taste

I've mentioned before but Luca can be a bit gluttonous and is rarely satisficed with one round of tasting your sweet wetness all over his tongue. Your taste alone inspired three dishes from the chef!

U = Unfair (How much they tease)

A menace actually. He's cool as a cucumber most of the time because he's already thinking ahead. Some days he'll tease you for a bit just to set the mood but there have been days where he would tease you all day, offering you cheeky remarks and lopsided smirks at you trying to get him to fuck you after teasing you all day.

V - Volume

He isn't the loudest per se but he does let out groans and grunts. Whispering dirty things in your ear about how gorgeous you look taking his cock, how good your tight walls feel, and how he wants - needs to hear you make those pretty sounds over and over again louder.

W - Wild Card (Random headcanon)

Luca is a romantic. It's hard to tell and took you a little by surprise but it's there! It's the little things that he does and the thoughtless effort he puts into ensuring that you are happy.

X - X-ray (How big is he?)

Luca is around 7 inches hard and thick god bless. He gives me the vibe that it's not that big of a deal to him what his size is but finds it amusing that you practically drool over it.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Luca's sex drive is above average but he has more self-control to never push anything. Plus, he's often too busy to really think about the last time he got laid.

Z - Zzzz (How quickly are they asleep afterward?)

It takes him a while to fall asleep afterward so he's always up to cuddle and talk but he's mostly to head to the kitchen for a snack before getting some sleep.

#luca x black reader #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear #the bear fanfiction #will poulter #will poulter x black reader #the bear fx #luca headcanon #will poulter x reader #chef luca #chef Luca x black reader #chef Luca x reader #chef Luca the bear

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scalingsvt8thusiast · 1 month

Text

Skin-deep Chapter 2

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: I'm still reeling over the fact that people actually liked chapter 1. So originally this was supposed to be part of chapter 1, but I stupidly didn't add it in cause i was worried it would be too long. But anyway, when it's finished i will create a list so its not too confusing :D

The walk to uni wasn’t so bad. The weather was good, birds were out chirping, students chatting happily around you. You felt good after yesterday’s party. Nothing better than watching all your friends get pissed drunk while you were perfectly sober.

You knew Mingyu wouldn’t make it to class this morning, his parents were visiting next week and he needed to make sure everything that was damaged was replaced and the things that were un-replaceable was fixed. That meant no morning coffee for you since Mingyu normally bought the two of you coffee. While in different courses, the both of you had arranged your classes so that you would have time to meet up in the morning before going into your individual classes.

Naturally, this lead to many rumours.

Mingyu was popular because of all his parties and money. It was no secret that Mingyu’s family owned a global hotel chain (which name rhymes with Lariott). He grew up being spoilt by his parents. Them buying him a house when he moved to uni was a good example. On a sensible 5000 square meters, they had built him an olympic sized swimming pool, the largest trampoline you had ever seen, a basketball court and a 10 bedroom mansion. The house was built by some renowned architect and was featured in architectural digest for being a masterpiece. Or that was what you heard.

It wasn’t just Mingyu who was rich, in fact his entire friend group had more money than the Kardashian’s combined. You regularly hung out with Soonyoung whose family owned some phone company in Korea which were the biggest rivals of the phone company with the fruit. Jeonghan and Joshua studied with you in the library. Jeonghan’s parents were some billionaires from Asia, you had no idea what they did, and Joshua’s parents owned some music companies in the US. Which ones? You had no clue. You, Seungkwan and Seokmin attended orchestra together, you were part of the strings section and them in the choir. Seungkwan’s father owned a few of the best law firms globally. Seokmin’s parents were in the rubber business, or something like that.

People around campus labelled you as the charity case, the girl that Mingyu and his friends took in because they had extra money to spend. Some people called you a gold digger. Some people said you were fucking them for money. The list was endless and you were friendless. Girls didn’t approach you because they all had the hots for Mingyu and Co. Several guys had tried to pay you to sleep with them, after declining with colourful language, you swore

Did it hurt your self-esteem? Not really, you never really cared for rumours. Sure, Mingyu paid for your coffee every morning, did you try to stop him? Yes, every morning. Does he listen? No.

Then there was Seungcheol, his family started a tech company that had started growing meteorically when his father became the CEO. Apparently everybody in the world knew his family. He would show up at school with a different car everyday, girls would crowd around him in the hallways (which you found comical) and all the professors in the school sucked up to him thanks to his family’s generous donations.

Seungcheol’s interest in you was a recent development, he made it his mission to flirt with you every time he was in the same vicinity as you. It was fun but you had to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t special, he treated you the same way he treated other girls.

You weren’t immune to his advances, however. When he smiled at you, you could literally feel your legs turn into jello. When he spoke to you, you felt yourself wanting to continue the conversation just to hear what he had to say with that deep voice of his. It didn’t help that you shared common interests, he was a regular sting instrument player due to his upbringing, he had a penchant for reading journal articles as well as discovering new coffee places each week. Your texting history with Seungcheol’s rivaled that of yours and Mingyu’s and you've known Mingyu since you two were in diapers.

Everyday you felt yourself getting closer to becoming one of Seungcheol’s hair twirling, pitchy, squeaky zombies.

When you arrived for class, you sat alone at the corner. Coffee-less. None of your friends took your course, so you spent every class alone. You had tried to make friends at first, but they all ended up asking you to introduce them to Mingyu and Co. When you rejected to help, they would just flat out stop speaking to you. After the first few “friends”, you gave up.

The professor started droning on about paediatric respiratory conditions and all you could think about is how much you wanted this to end. Throughout the lecture you received dirty looks from some whispering girls as usual. You recognised some of them from the night before, Seungcheol’s squeaky zombies.

When the professor finally ended his speech (essentially talking to himself the entire time), you packed your bag and bolted out of the room, not wanting to deal with any of those girls. You were surprised to see Seungcheol just by the door. He was leaning against the wall, looking as cool as the devil himself. When he spotted you, he pushed himself off the wall and approached you with a coffee cup in hand.

“Cheol? What are you doing here?” You said to him while adjusting your laptop bag.

“You look in need of coffee, doll,” He smiled, holding out the coffee cup. Just as you were about to reach for it, he pulled back. You furrowed your eyebrows, staring at him.

“Let’s trade,” He said holding an empty hand out, “Your bag for coffee.”

“What?”

“Your bag first.”

“I-what?”

“Jesus, princess, you really need coffee,” he pulled your bag off your shoulder with his free hand and pushed the coffee cup into your open palm. You sigh, not wanting to argue with him.

“Cheol, why are you here?” You ask in between sips, allowing yourself to soak up the sweet sweet embrace of coffee. “Thank you by the way.”

“Why not?” He said as his eyes traced your lips, memorising every shape and turn. His heart fluttered from how cute you looked doing the most mundane things like coffee drinking.

“Cheol.”

“Mingyu told me he wasn’t coming in today so he asked one of us to get you coffee, I came because I wanted to see you. Happy?” He said, looking away at the last bit. “Now come on babe, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Do you enjoy questioning me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” You smiled at him mischievously, he grinned back at you.

He slung your bag over his shoulder. As the two of you walked, you dart around to try and grab your bag back from him. Amused by your efforts, he resorted to putting an arm around your shoulder, holding your arms down as he lead you to his car.

The car in question was a black Ferarri Daytona SP3, you only know because people had been talking about it nonstop, that and your brother was a car person. The obvious choice and most sensible option for a uni student. A Ferarri.

Many students were surrounding the car and snapping pictures, you knew with the way you two were walking you’d probably make the headlines of many group chats along with his car. As the two of you approached, the crowd seemed to part to allow Seungcheol to reach his car.

“Ok, but seriously where are we going,” You said, squatting down to search for the door handle. How on earth do these doors open?

“Mingyu asked us to go over for food.” Seungcheol said, he softly brush your hand away and pulled the door open for you. The door swung upwards narrowly missing your head.

You got into the car, carefully, not wanting to scratch the car and pay your entire school fees worth of damages, and as gracefully as possible. Seungcheol smiled fondly, watching you struggle to get into a car so low, he made a mental note to drive you in a higher car next time.

“How was the party last night?” You said once Seungcheol started driving.

“It was great, no thanks to you.” He said. He maneuvered through the crowd of students gathered around to admire his car.

Deciding to tease him a little bit more, you raised the pitch of your voice, “But Cheollie~ you had so many girls after you last night.”

“You left me to die,” He turned to give you a pout, “I saved you earlier but you threw me to the wolves.”

Placing a hand over his chest, “You hurt me, baby,” he declared.

You giggled, finding him cute. When Seungcheol pulled out in Mingyu’s driveway, you noticed that everybody was already there from to the variety of supercars littering the front of the house.

“Did you end up going home with any of them?” You asked trying to ignore the pang in your heart, you were only half joking right now.

The air shifted. Seungcheol’s expression unreadable, his eyebrows furrowed. “No, why would I?”

“Oh, cause if you did, you would have’ta thank me you know, I was technically your wingwoman.” You joked.

He sighed, turning off the engine. You turned to open the car door but he reached over and pulled you towards him. You looked at him, his fingers laced with yours.

“Why would I want any of them when I have you?”

You tried your best not to take that to heart.

A/N2: Again, i welcome constructive criticisms, or any questions at all, just shoot me a dm or ask or whatever :)

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fic #scoups fic #seungcheol fluff #seventeen seungcheol #choi seungcheol #svt fanfic #svt fic #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen #scoups #scoups fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #svt

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comet-forgot-you · 4 months

Note

heyy idk if you're taking requests, but could you write River x reader where she's more dominant?? and maybe reader is more feminine?? I'm obsessed with River...

ofc bae, kinda hard to write for fem reader bc im more masc, so if this is bad im so sorry :[

remember

dealer!river x fem!reader

summary: river loves leaving you hanging, but she just thinks you’re so hot :(

warnings: 18+ pls, smut, strap use, top!river, orgasm denial, marijuana use, fingering, oral, teasing, river takes a picture, rivers a lil mean. like a lot a little. lots of cursing idk, lmk if theres more! do not repost this work as your own.

a/n: this took me so long to write lol, im sorry anon 😭. i kinda dont like this, i tried im sorry. anyway i kept accidentally writing amber instead of river and i literally don’t know why. enjoy :D

the air of river’s room was humid, the sounds of you panting being the only thing heard over the blaring music of the ongoing party outside of the room was the sounds of your pants and river’s endless remarks.

“gonna cum? already? we haven’t even been here that long,” her strap is bottomed out in you as she whispers the words mockingly in your ear. you whine against her jaw, hips struggling to keep up with the quick pace river had set.

"m' sorry," your words are slurred, thoughts jumbled together, the only thing the actually makes sense in the moment is river.

river chuckles, pulling back to get a better look at you. "what? my cock making you feels so good you can't even speak properly?" she asks mockingly, rolling your nipples between her fingers.

“riv.. please lemme,” your sentence is cut off by a shaky exhale. “lemme cum. please, riv.” a knock comes from the door and you hold back the cry that threatens to escape as river halts her movements and pushes herself off of you.

“what?” she yells, head snapping to the door. she glances down at you, your eyes brimming with tears, hips trying to grind down on the strap still nestled inside of you.

“you have a client,” a voice yells from the other side. river holds your hips down, your head shaking “no”

you knew how this would play out. river would be a huge fucking tease all night, hands crawling up the skirt she picked out, whispering dirty words in your ears, kisses on all the spots she knew drove you insane. you knew that if you didnt cum now, you wouldn’t until everyone left.

“please, river, don’t- fuck,” river’s thrust into you, your own moan cuts your words off.

“i’ll be right there,” she yells back. your eyes widen and river’s lips curl up into a mocking smile. “be a good girl, yeah? get dressed and join the party,” she mumbles. she pulls out of you and you whimper out at the emptiness.

“riv,” you whine her name, hoping to draw her back in. her eyes never leave yours, that stupid smile doesnt leave as she tucks the strap back into her pants.

she leans down, pressing kisses from your thighs to your jaw. “cmon, baby, dont wanna make the customer wait forever now, do we?” she pulls back slightly, her face so close to yours, you want nothing more than to kiss her. she grabs something off of her bed, and once she starts strapping it to your thigh, you know what shes about to ask you. “hold this for me, hmm?” its not really a question, though. you know she’ll tuck the lighter into the thigh garter whether or not you say yes or no.

shes off of you in seconds, heading to the door and looking back at you with that stupid smile. you groan. god was it going to be a long night.

—

river’s endless teasing and “innocent” words had you dripping. the cotton covering your cunt was stuck to your folds. you hated how much of a tease she was. every single movement she made had your head spinning with want.

even now as you sat on the couch, room filled with guards that were there solely to make sure things didnt go south, your legs draped across river’s thighs, she was still teasing you. hands trailing against the soft fat of your thighs, that pit in your stomach had yet to cool down, there was no way you could wait until the end of the night for her to fuck you.

river reaches into her pocket, taking out a small cigarette case she put joints in instead. she looks at you for what feels like the first time since you left her room. “you got a light, baby?” its a dumb question, really. she knew you had one, after all, she was the one who had tucked it into the thigh garter. you nod and river wastes no time sneaking her hand under your skirt to fish the lighter out.

she acts as if there werent eyes on her at all times. she brushes against your clothed cunt and it takes everything in you not to whimper at the feeling. she quickly grabs the lighter before removing her hand and lighting the joint hanging loosely from her lips.

you cant focus on the words she says to the client, only on the movements she makes. the way her jaw flexes as she clenches when the man makes a stupid remark, the way she stares him down like hes nothing, like he cant do anything. everything about her radiates so much power and confidence.

as soon as the guy leaves, you press yourself up against river, hand on her thigh as you lean in to whisper in her ear. “need you s’ bad, mamas. need you t’ fill me up again. please? i’ll be so good i promise.” your words are filthy, but every word was the truth. you knew exactly what buttons to push to make river fold. you knew that if you kissed her jaw, or left marks across her neck, she’d do anything you asked of her. so you did exactly that. holding her jaw with your free hand, you leave a cluster of red marks that would soon bloom to a shade of purple. river grips your thigh, a rush of hear spreading throughout both of your bodies.

“god, y’know just how to rile me up, dont you. so fuckin’ needy.” you smile against her neck.

“cant help it, mamas,” you mumble. the name makes her close her mouth to prevent the groan that threatens to escape. but you feel the vibrations against your lips. she stands, guiding you out of the room, leading you through the crowded hallways to her room.

your back is against the door in an instant, her lips against yours as she tries to undo the belt around her waist with one hand, her other eagerly groping at your tit. you whine at her neediness, it matches your own and your hands fly to the belt to try and help her. your kisses are so messy and hungry, its hard to think about much of anything else. you manage to unbuckle the belt and slide her pants off. she makes quick work of undressing you, guiding the two of you to her bed. her strap pressed against your clothed cunt and your moaning against her lips.

“fuck, river please just,” you groan, arching up into her as her lips attach to your nipple, “jus’ fuck me, mamas please. need you t’ fill me up,” you a whining mess. amber pulls your soaked panties down your legs before parting your legs to look at the mess between your thighs.

“fuck, you’re so fucking wet, y/n. were you that fucking needy for me?” you whine, trying to close your legs, but her hands keep them spread. “nuh-uh, you don’t get to hide it now. not when you begged me to fuck you in front of my guys,” she sounds so mean, you swallow thickly, worried you had genuinely upset her. but the way she wraps her lips around your throbbing clit, you know its not genuine. your moans echo off of the walls, you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds, hyperaware of the crowd of people just outside of the doors.

two of her fingers sink into your cunt, her other hand pulling your hand away from your mouth. “don’t do that, let them all hear how good im fucking you. let em know you’re mine.” she laces her fingers with yours, her lips returning to wrap around your clit. her fingers curl up into your cunt and your fingers lace into her hair.

“fuck, river!” your hips are bucking up into her her warm mouth. “gon’ cum, you feel so good.” she squeezes your hand, and your gushing around her fingers. she’s quick to lap up your juices before standing to tower over you. she presses her fingers against your lips and you take them in your mouth to suck your juices off of them. shes rolling your nipples between her fingers, her strap prodding at your entrance. you buck against it, your cunt sensitive after the orgasm river had just given you.

“need you to fill me up river,” her voice is mocking your previous words. “need you so bad, god im just such a fucking slut i just cant wait for you to fill me up,” her words cause tears to prickle in your eyes. did you really sound like that? were you really that needy? her strap pushes into you, her lips wrapping around the plush of your tits to leave marks that she’d be taking so many pictures of later. the familiar stretch of your cunt has any thoughts of insecurity rushing out of your mind in an instant.

“riv,” you whine out at her slow pace.

“riv,” she mocks in a high pitched voice. “what is it baby? not enough for your needy cunt? need me to be pounding into just to be satisfied?” your eyes roll back as she bottoms out. a tear slides down your face. you cant tell if its from the pleasure or from her words. river had never been this.. mean before. you didnt mind, the pit in your stomach growing with every word.

river’s movements speed up. her strap fills you up so good, hitting spots inside of you that have you seeing stars. her mouth feels so good against your body, her hands keeping your thighs parted. “so fucking pretty,” she groans against your jaw, her breathing heavy against your skin.

“feels s’ good mamas, fuck,” your thighs shake against her hands, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every single move river makes.

“yeah? gonna cum again? so fuckin,” she shudders when your fingers brush against her nipples, “fuck, so fucking needy. this cunt is practically sucking me in, shit,” she exhales sharply against your skin. you can tell she’s close to hitting her own high with the way her thrusts get sloppier and her breathing gets shakier

“fuck, river,” your moans are loud.

“c’mon, cum for me, go on,” your high hits just as river’s does. her strap stuffed so deep inside of you, “did s’ good,” she mumbles against your ear. “so fuckin good, shit,” shes rolling her hips against yours, trying to make both of your highs last a little longer. she lifts herself off of you, admiring the sight beneath her. “fuck,” she groans lowly.

she reaches for her phone off of the night stand, snapping a picture of you in your fucked out state. “so fuckin’ hot, baby.”

#river all souls #river x reader #mikey madison #wlw smut #mikey madison x reader #all souls #all souls movie #i want river #river #all souls smut #river smut

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 7 months

Text

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of war and rationing, sexual inexperience, oral sex (f receiving), smut. Word count: ~3.1k

Summary: When Billy gifts her an orange, almost impossible to come by due to lack of exportation and rationing, he decides he wants to taste something sweeter than fruit. Based on this request.

Author's note: For @notasockpuppetaccount. No tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She sits down heavily on a chair in the staff quarters, sighing in relief at the rest she is finally able to give her aching feet and back.

It’s her first day at The Halcyon, one of London’s most prestigious hotels. Money has been tight at home since her father was drafted, and she’d enquired about work just about everywhere she could think of, in order to help her mother make ends meet.

She’d been surprised when The Halcyon had offered her a job as a maid, she had no prior experience and was certain they’d reject her. However, she supposes that in the midst of a war, beggars can’t be choosers, and they are likely as desperate as she is.

Her morning has been spent helping out Kate, a firm but friendly Irish girl, who has taught her how to turn down a bed and scrub a toilet until it gleams white and shiny again. It’s tiring work, the maze of rooms on every floor feels endless, and between being scolded for wrinkled sheets and improperly folded towels she is exhausted, grateful to retreat to the back room once she’s told she can take her lunch break.

Unwrapping the wax paper on the sandwich she’d packed earlier that morning, she wrinkles her nose in disgust. It no longer seems as appetising now that it’s been left to sit in her bag for hours.

She looks up as the door creaks open, a tall, young lad in a bell boy’s uniform walks in. He offers her a tight lipped smile by way of greeting, cheeks turning slightly pink as he moves to retrieve his own sandwich.

“You on your lunch as well?” She asks warmly. Having only spoken properly to Kate so far, she is eager to make friends.

“Yeah,” he says, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite hers at the table, “you mind if I, er…?”

“No, sit down,” she tells him, watching intently as he takes a seat and starts to unwrap his own food.

“Not seen you before,” he comments, looking up at her.

“First day,” she fiddles with the wax paper of her lunch, “I’m knackered.”

“Don’t I know it,” he says, loosening his cap and placing it upon the table. “Lost a guest’s dog this morning. Bloody thing slipped the lead when I tried to walk it.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she is unable to stifle the giggle that escapes her. At least someone is having a worse day than she is. “And I thought I had it bad scrubbing toilets.”

“You not eating that then?” He says, nodding towards her sandwich before taking a bite of his own.

She grimaces. “Fish paste. Not sure I can stomach it.”

He nods, talking around a mouthful of food, a habit she would ordinarily find disgusting, but she finds it doesn’t offend her when he does it. “Spam in mine. Mum makes ‘em. Same thing every day.” He swallows before he speaks again, with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “Tell you what, give me half of yours, I’ll give you half of mine. Less boring that way.”

“Yeah, alright,” she grins, sliding hers across to him. She watches as he takes half and then places the remaining part of his in the empty space.

“I’m Billy, by the way,” he tells her, the tips of his ears reddening, suddenly shy again.

“Thanks for the sandwich, Billy,” she says softly, before telling him her name.

They eat their lunch in comfortable silence, until finally it’s time to get back to work.

In the week that follows, her and Billy have lunch together every day, swapping sandwich halves and chatting about their days. The work is hard, but knowing she has a friend gives her something to look forward to, and she finds herself excited to go to work each day.

They talk about anything and everything, their hour-long break always feeling like it evaporates all too quickly. She tells him all about her dad fighting overseas against the Germans, and how she took her job at the Halcyon to bring home extra money for her mum, who’s currently doing factory work for the same reason. Billy tells her that he’ll be eighteen soon, and can’t wait to be drafted. His mum, Peggy, operates the switchboard at the hotel, his dad isn’t around anymore, so she relies on his help to look after his little sister, who he affectionately refers to as “the squirt”.

Shared lunch breaks evolve into after hours games of poker with the rest of the Halcyon staff. They crowd into the back room, sitting around the same table that her and Billy share lunch at, and play for cigarettes.

She feels her skin grow hot as their knees brush together, unable to help the smile that tugs at her lips as she watches Billy’s brow furrow in confusion as he looks over his cards, a lit cigarette perched between his lips.

“You’re smoking your stake, Billy,” she says with a soft chuckle.

He looks sheepishly at her, plucking the cigarette from between his lips, before throwing his cards down onto the table with a sigh. “Doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve got all Jacks.”

“Billy!” Everyone groans around the table in frustration, chucking their own cards down.

She laughs heartily. He might have ruined the game, but it’s impossible to be angry at him when his big blue eyes go wide and his lips part in shock.

Billy looks adorable when he’s worried, and it’s an expression he wears often; when he accidentally drops guests’ luggage down the stairs, the time he shuts a lady’s skirt in the lift doors, and especially when she leads him to the scullery, telling him there’s a surprise for him.

His concern quickly morphs into one of his trademark, tight smiles that indicate he’s feeling bashful, as head chef, George, flanked by the rest of the kitchen staff, carries out an enormous birthday cake lit with candles.

“You didn’t think you could hide it from us, did you, Billy?” George jokes, once the obligatory “happy birthday” song has been sung. “Eighteen today!”

She has her first taste of Champagne that day, each member of staff is given a class to toast to Billy. The bubbles tickle her nose, the taste is dry but not unpleasant upon her palate, yet it does nothing to dilute the bitterness that blooms heavy in her chest.

Billy’s turned eighteen, he’ll be drafted any day now and she’ll lose her best friend. No more shared sandwiches, no more ruined games of poker, no more stolen moments in the housekeeping closet where they laugh uncontrollably over stupid jokes. She’s going to lose Billy, just as she’s lost her dad to this stupid war.

Her heartache is given a brief moment of respite when she looks over at him, also indulging in his first taste of Champagne, and sees the way his face contorts in disgust at the taste. He’s always able to make her smile, even when she doesn’t want to.

It’s only a week later that Billy’s letter arrives. Due to Peggy’s meddling, he won’t be going overseas, he’ll be stationed at the nearby army barracks helping to man the anti aircraft guns. She is secretly pleased that he won’t be too far away, despite his annoyance at his mum’s interference. She feels she could kiss Peggy, such is the depth of her gratitude for what she’s done, but she does her best to hide how pleased she is, comforting Billy, saying how sorry she is for him.

“Cheer up, it might never happen,” he says with a soft smile, as they stand in the hotel foyer. Billy wears his day clothes, having handed his uniform in at the end of his final shift at The Halcyon.

“Already has,” she replies sadly, her heart twinging as she looks up into the big, blue eyes she’s grown to adore.

“How d’you mean?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“You, going off to war,” she sighs, “I won’t see you again.”

“Don’t be daft,” he chuckles, “I’ll only be down the road.”

“You won’t have time for me, Billy.”

He swallows, averting his gaze briefly before meeting her eye once more. “I don’t like fish paste.”

“What?” She asks, squinting slightly, confused.

“I’ve spent the last six months eating fish paste sarnies, just so I’d have an excuse to spend my lunch break with you. Fish paste is disgusting, if I can stomach that then it’ll take more than a stupid war to keep me away from you.”

Her heart flutters, her vision turning misty as a wide smile spreads its way across her features. “Oh, Billy…” she whispers.

Her fingers flex uselessly at her sides, desperate to reach out to him, and she sees his do the same. An opposing, invisible force hangs heavy between them, filled with unspoken declarations, drawing them together and yet pushing them apart simultaneously, until finally they collide in a tight, all encompassing hug.

He smells of Brylcreem and tobacco, and she inhales deeply, committing his scent to memory. She doesn’t want to let go, yet she does, she has to.

Adjusting to life at The Halcyon without Billy around is difficult. Lunch breaks feel empty and lifeless, the poker nights are not the same.

Billy still visits, though his presence is not as frequent as it was before. He’s usually accompanied by his little sister, carrying her into the hotel on piggyback before going to see Peggy in the switchboard room.

To her delight, he makes a point of seeking her out each time. He looks handsome in his uniform, filled with a confidence he didn’t have before. Animatedly, he tells her all about the anti aircraft guns, enthusiastically mimicking the sounds they make, causing her to laugh.

On her eighteenth birthday, Billy turns up at the hotel, looking dapper as ever in his khaki green trousers and jacket. He pulls her into the housekeeping cupboard, shifting the bag he has on his shoulder awkwardly.

“Happy birthday,” he says to her, almost nervous sounding, “got you something.”

She gasps, as he produces a large orange from his bag, handing it to her. The skin is firm in her hands. It’s been a long time since she’s had any fruit that isn’t mock banana; rationing and the lack of imports due to the war mean that it’s produce that’s hard to come by. The hotel’s chief concierge routinely has to decline the requests of high profile guests that request fresh fruit as part of their room service. She turns the orange around in her hands looking at it reverently.

“Where did you get this?” She stares up at him, wide-eyed. “Not even Feldman can get oranges!”

Billy shrugs, blushing slightly. “Oh, y’know, I’ve got my ways.”

“Thank you, Billy,” she says, voice filled with soft sincerity. An idea strikes her, excitement swirling in her stomach. “We should share it!”

“Really?” He asks hopefully.

“Yeah, unless…” she deflates as realisation of how busy he is now hits her, “you probably can’t get away, it’s a silly idea.” She shakes her head, embarrassment warming her flesh.

He steps forward, eager to reassure her. “No, I’ve got time, I can make time. I’ll come back tomorrow?”

She looks up at him, smiling brightly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He nods, half turning towards the door. “Well, I should probably–”

“Billy?” She calls to him and he turns back, a look of question on his face, eyebrows raised slightly.

She surges forward, pressing her lips firmly against his cheek, kissing it, before she quickly pulls away again.

For a moment it looks as though Billy has stopped breathing as she watches him, her heart pounding in her chest. Finally, he exhales deeply, his face blushing bright red. He grins and she smiles back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Billy.”

“Yeah…yeah, tomorrow,” he says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder again, before slipping out of the closet door.

He stays true to his promise and the following day they go to the back room, the same place where they have shared so many lunches. This time they sit beside each other, instead of on opposite sides of the table.

Carefully, she slices the orange into segments, giving half to Billy.

The fruit is fleshy and sweet as she bites into it, the tartness of the citrus causing her to emit a satisfied hum as she chews and swallows it.

She looks over at Billy, huffing a laugh as she watches the way the juice drips down his chin.

He looks back, frowning slightly. “What?”

“Come here, you’ve got…” she leans over, wiping the orange residue away with her thumb. Her movements slow, her hand lingering against his face as her eyes settle upon his.

It feels like time stops as their gaze locks, her breath catches in her throat. She is unsure of who moves first, but their lips are against each other, moving slowly at first, filled with uncertainty and inexperience.

He tastes sweet, and their mouths move with more enthusiasm, both able to taste orange upon each other.

They keep their foreheads pressed together once they part for air, both smiling softly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met you,” he whispers.

Their relationship shifts from that moment. Billy is unable to take her on dates, can’t bring her flowers, his time at the barracks doesn’t allow for that. They have only a series of stolen moments in the hotel to share, sneaking into rooms which have yet to be made up to spend time together.

It is all sweet kisses and warm cuddles, neither one of them ready to take the steps that go beyond that yet.

She lays against Billy’s chest on the unmade bed, his arm wrapped around her as the other moves his hand through her hair, stroking it. “Hate that I can’t take you out anywhere fancy,” he murmurs.

“I don’t need any of that,” she reassures him, “just you coming back to me alive is enough.”

“You deserve that though,” he insists, hugging her tighter to him, “when this war is over, I’m gonna take you out for dinner. We’ll get married, and we’ll have a house and fill it full of kids.”

Her chest fills with warmth as she grins up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes soft and filled with fondness as he looks at her, “because…well, because I love you.”

Her grin grows wider and she kisses him deeply, feeling the way the skin of his face flushes beneath her fingertips.

“I love you too,” she whispers as she pulls away.

Their dynamic shifts again after that, their cosy stolen mornings become more heated, their kisses more impassioned, every touch is charged with intent.

Where she felt uncertain and scared of what lies beyond innocent kissing before, she now feels only desire for Billy, but isn’t sure of how to communicate this with him.

He pulls away from her as they share a passionate embrace, trailing kisses over her neck. “Can I try something with you?” He whispers.

“What is it?” She asks, whining softly as he pulls away from her.

“Something that one of the lads at the barracks told me about,” he says, not meeting her eye, “it’s how he pleases his missus, thought you might like it.”

She laughs softly, nervously. “Okay, but what is it?”

He swallows thickly, turning scarlet. “Can I just show you? I’m embarrassed to say.”

She nods, eager to see what he’ll do.

“Lay back for me,” he instructs, and she does, watching him through hooded eyes.

Tentatively, he moves down the messy hotel bed, pushing the skirt of her maid’s uniform above her hips, revealing her knickers and stockings. He bites his lip at the sight, never having seen her in such a state of undress before.

She gasps, her eyes going wide, sudden fear filling her. “Billy, we can’t–”

“No, not that,” he’s quick to reassure her, “not until we’re…you’re ready.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing slightly.

“But…” his eyes flit up to hers, filled with uncertainty, “I do need to take your underwear off. Is that alright?”

She gulps. She’s scared, but also curious and excited, she wants to experience whatever it is that Billy has asked to try. “Yeah,” she says quietly, “yeah, that’s alright.”

Gently and slowly, his nimble fingers drag her knickers away from her body and down her legs, discarding them at the end of the bed.

She has the sudden urge to hide her face as he takes in the sight of her, pupils wide with lust. She is torn between wanting to look away and the desire to watch exactly what he’s doing as he carefully coaxes her legs apart.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, “I-I’ve never done this before.”

She gasps as she feels his tongue move against her, hesitantly exploring her folds. The motion of his mouth between her legs is unsure at first, but as his tongue flicks over her pearl and she lets out a surprised moan of pleasure, Billy grows more confident.

He repeats the motion, causing her to squirm and mewl. It feels so intimate, she wants to pull away, filled with shame, to tell him it’s dirty and they shouldn’t be doing this, but at the same time, every time his tongue moves against that particular spot she never wants him to stop.

“God, you taste good,” he mumbles against her.

The movement of his tongue becomes more certain, determined and he laves at her, flicking against the spot that causes her to whimper and grip the bed sheets tightly.

She can feel a pressure building within her, intensifying with every sweep of Billy’s tongue, until finally as he groans against her, circling her bud once more, it reaches its apex and she shudders against him with a surprised cry, feeling boneless as warmth washes over her like the lapping waves of the sea.

“Oh, my god, Billy…'' She breathes heavily.

He lifts his face from between her thighs, a smile on his face, his chin coated in her juices just as it was when they’d shared the orange. She can’t resist the urge to tug him up towards her, kissing him hungrily.

They giggle against each other's lips, both of them breathless.

“I…er…need to clean myself up before I head back,” he tells her, his mouth forming a tight smile, the telltale sign of his shyness that she’s grown to love.

She follows his line of sight to the wet patch on the crotch of his uniform trousers and they both erupt into uncontrollable laughs.

Oh, Billy.

#billy taylor #ewan mitchell #the halcyon #billy taylor x reader #billy taylor x y/n #billy taylor x you #billy taylor imagine #billy taylor smut #billy taylor fan fiction #billy taylor fanfiction #billy taylor fan fic #billy taylor fanfic #the halcyon fan fiction #the halcyon fanfiction #the halcyon fan fic #the halcyon fanfic #billy taylor the halcyon

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lenreli · 3 months

Text

endless pawns playing a fixed game

Explicit, 7.8k, Dream/Hob. Reacher-inspired AU with an ex-spy Hob and mafia kid Dream!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

[AO3]

When Hob took the Endless family bodyguard position, it was mainly for the paycheck. And also a lack of breaking kneecaps for collecting debts, which he does feel some way about. More that it’s a waste of his considerable skill, but nonetheless.

Recent hushed rumours around the estate have made the Endless bosses more paranoid for their well-being, so he’s gathered in his time at the vast place.

The bosses are ― well, efficient mob, and just generally terrible people, as evidenced by shouting matches featuring Night or Time, which surely can’t be their real names―

Then again, with their children’s names, with the many different aged children also getting into screaming matches with the parents, Hob considers his lack of family a blessing, in cases like this.

The kids, with all sorts of D-name, are varied, and from what he gathered, either orphans gathered up for some good PR, or due to some twisted sense of actually wanting a family. Or maybe they were from people and former mob bosses the parents killed and raised, which would be an impressive sort of fucked up. The kids are mostly a non-issue for him as he does his job, and usually walks past a few of them throughout his days―

He’s used to seeing Death’s much-too-kind smile, to Destiny being cloistered up in the library, to Desire’s comings and goings at all hours, and surely he must’ve seen Dream somewhere before that night of the attempted poisoning.

As he looks around the room as some poor schmuck is taken, screaming and pleading, he catches blue eyes and is momentarily stunned. As Desire talks to Dream, Hob gathers that stoic, pale man mainly lives around the art quarters ― which would explain why Hob only briefly remembers him. Plus, the art quarters are very dark and moody, and this is probably the first time he’s seen Dream in actual good light, arms crossed as he talks quietly with Desire.

As he stares at the cut of Dream’s suit, the blue eyes stare at him for a moment, and Hob catalogues the minute expressions of annoyance as Dream talks with Desire. He definitely knows those blue eyes, have felt them following him since he arrived at the estate, a background awareness of everything else, and Hob considers Dream’s pink, plush lips, low voice begging and screaming, pale skin splashed with―

“Gadling!” His boss calls and he looks over, Dusk folding her arms and giving him an unimpressed look, “you’re needed.”

Blinking, he puts his hands into the pockets of his pants, “what about Cori?” He’s pretty sure Cori actually gets off on the torture in his job, and he’d hate to take that from him.

“Who the fuck knows. Hence, you,” Dusk drawls, and she gives him an extra glare for good measure, eyes narrowing as she looks between him and Dream. Hob nods and suppresses a smirk, thinking of how cute it is that she thinks her disapproval, or even some don’t fuck who you work for would stop him.

If there’s something Hob likes about his job, it’s that there’s always plots under schemes to uncover, always people to kill ― and now, Dream’s blue eyes staring at him occasionally, like they’re drawn to him. And maybe when Hob feels like a pointless one night stand, he gets a pale twink with dark hair and bites into his neck, replacing the high whines with Dream’s deep voice, the coarse black hair he tugs with the soft-looking spikes of Dream’s hair. Just for a bit of fun.

Hob’s always one for looking for the bright things in life, especially after getting out of his former job.

The point is, his life is pretty good, potential firing squad due to some light treason notwithstanding.

Sometimes the goons of the estate think that the Endless kids should learn how to defend themselves, which would be good, he’s sure, if said goons weren’t such idiots when it comes to teaching them. And today they’ve managed to drag a scowling Dream out of his art quarters, which is why he’s actually witnessing their poor attempts at teaching today.

“Are you going to keep judging, or are you going to give a few pointers?” The big man frowns at him. Hob blinks and crosses his arms, leaning more on the wall as he glances at Dream, hair ruffled and scowling.

“I’m not the teaching type,” he says with a shrug, and the goon scowls, no doubt angry at Hob as he barks orders at Dream, who looks just as impressed as Hob does with him.

The subpar teaching makes for good entertainment, and Hob briefly considers maybe giving Dream private lessons. Or maybe not so private, if only for the good screaming and whining to be echoed throughout the grounds.

At last, the goon gives up with a huff, and Hob stares at the bruise on Dream’s cheek, the colour matching the other’s lips as Dream straightens out his ratty black clothes, small specks of blue paint on the bottom of Dream’s shirt.

Dream looks at him, stepping closer, absurdly plush mouth opening―and a phone rings. Dream frowns and takes out a flip phone, answering it curtly, then shortly leaving.

A week after that, something is wrong. Dream has been one for Wednesday meetings with his sister in the library, and nothing. Only Death, looking faintly worried.

Then a ransom call comes in, and Hob only gets that Dream’s been kidnapped before he holds his anger tightly, the Endless parents not even worried as the modulated voice lists their demands. Many of the fellow security and goons give him skittish looks, who have been wordlessly ribbing him for taking a liking to Dream.

Hob says nothing to the Endless parents as he leaves the room, ringing up some of his contacts to get something, and quickly ― before he decides they need some persuasion.

In the end, it takes seven days for him to find out that Burgess, another mob boss, recently hooked up electricity to an abandoned building, the night before the ransom call. Hob briefly considers going to Fawney Rig, where Burgess’s own mansion is, then considers after, once Dream is back at the estate.

For all the heightened security that the Endless parents put in, they’re remarkably unconcerned that their own son is kidnapped, whether out of neglect, or simply because of the people around working on it, Hob is unclear about. And, well, if they didn’t give him his income, he’d consider adding more bodies to the one’s he’s already planning on.

When he tells security of his plans, they offer to give him some goons as ‘back-up’ and Hob bites back a scoff. “I can handle it myself,” he frowns, glaring at the man until he steps back, nodding sharply.

The plan is to go through the abandoned building and kill everyone that’s not Dream. A simple one, but it’s never failed him yet.

Hob is almost offended at the front door, when he goes in to see five rent-a-thugs, nothing approaching a challenge as he methodically makes his way through them. With two already dead, he uses the body of one as a shield, gunshots ringing out, but soon silenced by one of his daggers through the shooter’s heart.

The other two go down with more daggers thrown, and once he’s collected and cleaned them off with fabric from the cheap suits of the men, he puts them away and sighs.

Unsurprisingly, the other rooms are easy enough to go through, finally finding Dream tied up on a chair, with two men near the door, guns raised at him. Hob puts on a disarming smile, putting his hands up. “I’m going to be nice, and tell you how you die,” he says, smiling brightly. Then men are shaking, guns rattling quietly in their grips. “You,” he nods to the man on his right, “are going to try and shoot me, and then I’m going to go after your buddy here and kill him with a clean knife to the heart. Then I’m going to take it out of his body and throw it into your heart, and you’ll both be dead before you hit the ground.”

The men seem even more freaked out, sharing scared looks ― but this isn’t about them. Maybe he wanted to show off, just a little bit, for the captive audience. Dream’s blue eyes are wide, mouth gagged with black fabric― and the man on his right moves, and it goes like he said, pulling out his dagger and cleaning it off the dead man’s body before stowing it away.

“Hello, Dream,” the other man’s eyes go even wider, a muffled sound going through the gag as he walks up to him, leaning over the chair to cut loose the ropes holding Dream. “We haven’t met yet officially, but you can call me Hob,” he smiles as he rips off the gag, then goes to the ropes around Dream’s legs, cutting them off as he stands up. Dream also gets up, face even more pale ― and Hob’s brows furrow as he touches the corner of Dream’s mouth, where a bruise is. “Maybe I should’ve tortured them more,” he remarks.

“Thank you,” Dream croaks, eyes a dark, deep blue and Hob hums, stepping away as he rubs his thumb, still feeling the soft skin under it.

“Let’s get you back home, Endless.” Hob gives Dream a once-over, finding nothing out of place with the black suit, or the way Dream’s holding himself.

“Is it just you?” Dream asks as they step outside of the room, and Dream stops, looking at the bodies lining the rooms as they go through each one. Dream always takes a moment to stop, looking at the various bodies, wide eyes leaving them to look at him ― and his clean suit, not a speck of blood on him.

“I was offered back-up, but they’d just get in the way,” he says with a shrug. Dream nods as they exit the building, and Hob opens the back car door, then stops Dream from getting in. “Burgess met you, didn’t he? Probably to gloat, he seems like the type of asshole to do that,” Dream steps back and nods as Hob leans on the car door. “Do you expressly order for me to kill him for you, or do I have to do it without it?”

Dream’s mouth moves, opening and shutting before something hard settles over Dream’s expression, “you can kill him,” Dream says, voice breathless and Hob nods. Moving out of the way, he gets in on the other side as Dream slides in, looking at the dark screen between them and Mervyn, the driver, starts the car.

Dream still looks shocked, wide-eyed and flushed cheeks, and Hob considers the effects of kidnapping, which are never good. Or maybe it was all the dead bodies, especially considering Dream maybe doesn’t have much experience with that.

Hob watches as Dream takes deep breaths, suit jacket being thrown off, then shoes joining them, and Hob tilts his head, looking at pale collarbones, sweaty and glistening as Dream undoes the top buttons of the shirt, black a contrast to the white of his skin. “I need you,” Dream says roughly, eyes mostly black, and Hob blinks as Dream pulls him closer by his collar, “to fuck me,” Dream states before kissing him, biting into his lips. Or maybe, Hob thinks nonsensically, grabbing onto Dream’s waist as the other man slides into his lap.

Hob blinks, eyebrows raised, “no complaints here, just as long as you don’t regret it,” he breathes, fingers sliding up under a black shirt, and he watches as Dream shivers, bony limbs pushing him down onto the backseat.

“Definitely not,” Dream says sharply, cold hands tearing open his blazer, then waistcoat and shirt, and Dream pauses as his blazer is thrown off, eyes zeroed in on the bracers around his biceps ― and the daggers in them. There’s a huff as Dream takes them off, then the bracers and his waistcoat and shirt, and there’s another huff as Dream stares at the harness around his shoulders, the guns on them. “Hob.”

Suppressing a smile, he shrugs as he toes his pointed shoes off, Dream still on his lap as he watches Hob pull out a tiny syringe, then a few small daggers and puts them on his other weapons on the floor.

“A syringe?” Dream asks, leaning closer to look.

“Lethal poison,” he says, sitting up to sit against the car side, his hands going under Dream’s shirts to take it off, pale skin and pink nipples, and he nibbles up Dream’s neck, restraining himself from drawing blood as Dream whimpers. “This too, plus another, but you’ll have to take my pants off for that,” he whispers into Dream’s ear as he tugs the hair tie off his wrist, throwing it onto his pile of weapons.

Dream makes a sound, cold hands getting warmer as they tug at Hob’s pants, “a hair tie?” The other man asks incredulously, belt being taken off to join the rest of the weapons as Dream takes a moment to stare at the line of tiny daggers lining the inside of the belt.

“The hair tie can also turn into barbed wire,” he offers with a smirk, “and not that, I forgot about those,” he shrugs, arousal a constant, pleasant buzz with how Dream is sitting on him. Dream mutters something, words incomprehensible as Dream sits up to tug his pants off, the underwear, knives strapped with harnesses on his thighs thrown with everything else, and Dream’s look of annoyance makes Hob bite back a laugh.

“Is that all? Anything else?” Dream hisses, and Hob does actually smirk as Dream tugs at his chest hair. Hob hums and touches the crotch of the other’s pants, feeling a wet spot already as he unbuttons them, clearly not as turned off by all the weapons.

“Not today,” he says. Tugging Dream closer by the zip of his pants, there’s a broken sound as they kiss filthily, and Hob’s already addicted to the feel of Dream’s smooth skin as his nails scratch down thighs, Dream’s lower clothes soon joining the rest. “I’m not taking you raw,” he drawls, smiling as Dream tugs his hair and pulls back with a huff.

Dream mutters some more and reaches for the back of the passenger seat, revealing a compartment filled with small packets of lube and condoms. Desire, probably, Hob’s mind supplies as he takes some of the lube and a condom. “I thought this would involve more fucking, not all these―” Dream’s complaint turns into a moan as Hob pushes a finger inside Dream, and his cock twitches at the thought of going inside that warm heat as he bites at the other’s jaw.

Dream pants, breath harsh near his ear as fingers grip his chest hair and he adds another finger, twisting and stretching the walls around them. “Hard or soft?” He asks, free hand digging into and trailing up Dream’s spine, feeling him shiver and shake as Dream clenches around his fingers.

“Now,” is the desperate order, and Hob pulls Dream by the hair into a forceful kiss, making those pink lips even redder as he takes out his fingers and prepares his cock, lube and condom cool compared to the burning heat of Dream on top of him. Hob groans as he enters the tight heat, Dream shuddering and squeezing around him, and Dream cries out, a hand coming down from his hair to dig into the stubble of his jaw. “Yes,” Dream breathes, twitching.

Hob takes a deep breath, smelling blood and sweat on Dream’s neck as he gets used to the feeling, a part of him wanting to drive in, but also Dream was just kidnapped, so he tries to have a modicum of care as he bottoms out, nails digging into Dream’s waist as they adjust. The tenuous self-control frays as Dream wriggles on top of him, licking into his mouth as Dream grinds down onto his cock.

“Stop being such a pussy and fuck me,” Dream croaks ― and there’s a gasp as Hob’s free hand circles Dream’s neck, nails digging into the other’s esophagus until Dream coughs, eyes wide and dick leaking onto Hob’s stomach.

“With the way you’re acting, no,” he frowns as Dream continues to cough, eventually nodding frantically as Dream’s hand pulls the one away from the other’s throat.

Dream licks his lips, a bit of terror in his eyes that makes Hob’s sharp anger lessen. “Please,” Dream whispers, eyes still overtaken with black, a thin ring of deep blue as the car passes a pot-hole, jostling them and Dream wails. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Better,” he breathes, tugging Dream’s hair roughly as he guides the other man up and down his cock, feeling tight walls slowly loosen up as Dream is impaled on him. Dream tries to say something, but Hob shifts him and only a cry comes out as he hits the other’s prostate, and Hob nibbles at the blossoming bruise on Dream’s throat in the shape of his hand.

Dream sobs and claws at his chest, at his shoulder as they fuck, as his tempo rises ― and Dream comes with a sob, squeezing his cock tightly and pulling an orgasm out of him.

Checking all his weapons are where they’re meant to be, he puts on his clothes as Dream frowns, glaring at him on the backseat. “Now, I have to report to security, and you’ll probably have to deal with your family, so. See you around, Dream,” he says with a lazy fingered salute as he hops out of the car. “Mervyn,” he says with a smile and a nod towards the driver. Mervyn gives him the middle finger as he leaves.

The security briefing is, well, brief. Mainly because he doesn’t reveal the people who kidnapped Dream. So that he can go after them himself, but that’s splitting hairs. There’s a cacophony of sound, and there’s a done-up Dream, looking only a tiny bit ruffled as he’s surrounded by all his siblings as they talk at him. Dream catches his eye and sends him a desperate get me out of here look, and Hob only shrugs, leaning against the wall as Death and Delirium move on to hugging Dream, only quickly though.

Dream scowls, bruises on his neck hidden by layers of collars and black as he steps into Hob’s space once the room has cleared out and the siblings have dispersed. “Will you join me? To my room,” Hob raises an eyebrow and Dream looks away, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, “for protection, after my ordeal.”

Hob frowns, Dream looking so exhausted now, and he nods, following after Dream into the labyrinth of the mansion until they end up at a room near the art quarters, opening into a red and black bedroom. Hob watches as Dream sheds off his clothes, marks and bruises ― mainly from him, bright against his skin as Dream goes into the bathroom. Hob closes the bedroom door as Dream fills the bath in his en suite, eventually hopping in with a weary sigh.

There’s only the sound of a ticking clock, a far-off, muffled television as Dream curls up in the bath, eventually hopping out after at least an hour. Hob’s heart aches, which he ignores as Dream pulls a fluffy black towel around himself. “Hob,” Dream whispers, voice rusty as Dream dries himself off, getting into a ratty black shirt and pants. “Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?”

Dream looks at him with red-rimmed eyes, drained and tired, at how vulnerable Dream is, and he wants to make sure that no-one else ever sees that look, as much as he wants to make it even worse. However, he did say, he would deal with Dream’s captors, and he thinks of the soft touch of the other’s skin, the fiery determination, even after being rescued.

His heart, which he long thought dead, twists at the other’s exhaustion, and the decision is simple.

“Of course.”

Going through the information gathered on Fawney Rig, Hob may actually have a bit of a challenge, so he decides to take his time working out angles, and what he plans to do. Especially when he discovers that the kidnapping wasn’t the first time he’s interacted with Dream, and those haven’t been good either. Nothing as overt as kidnapping, but enough of a pattern to make Hob think of the many ways to flay an old man alive.

Afterwards, Dream asks him to his room more. Sometimes for just peace of mind, apparently. And other times for sex, which isn’t trouble at all, and Hob is happy with the way things are going in life, even as he deals with rising amounts of plots against the Endless family with no clear mastermind, much to his frustration.

However, there’s always time for some fun, this time with Dream pushing him against his bedroom door and kneeling down, hands quickly taking him out and Hob gasps at the hot mouth around his dick, sucking him to hardness. Groaning, Hob grabs onto soft dark hair as Dream pushes his hips against the door.

“What, no undressing me first?” He says, and Dream stops to give him a withered look, clearly not in the mood to deal with his many weapons. Hob barks out a laugh as Dream licks him.

Dream moans, long black lashes fluttering as Hob fills up in his mouth, the other’s nails digging into the harnesses under his pants, daggers cold against his skin as Dream licks and sucks.

“You may want to move those hands,” he breathes, tugging the other’s black hair, “daggers.” Dream gives him a tired look and pulls off him, teeth lightly grazing the top of his cock, annoyance showing even more as Dream tugs down his pants to reveal the harness and taking off the daggers.

There’s a huff as Dream’s mouth returns, one of Dream’s hands going underneath his shirt to tug at his chest hair, and the pleasure fizzles steadily, unwilling to look away from the other man.

Even just looking at Dream in this position is enough to make his arousal build, spiraling at how much Dream obviously enjoys it. “So pretty,” he whispers, and Dream shivers around him, lashes fluttering and Hob smirks as Dream’s hips move, grinding into air. “Taking me so well,” he says, a hand trailing down to touch Dream’s jaw, going down to a pale throat as Dream moans and swallows around him. “Knew you’d be good with lips like these.”

Dream whimpers as his hand goes up to pink lips, split around his cock, a thumb pressing inside the warm heat. There’s a cry, blue eyes shiny and tears sticking to the edge of long lashes.

His orgasm is a slow thing, helped along as he tugs Dream by his hair, making him choke and swallow around him desperately as he comes. Dream coughs, covering his mouth as he swallows the white fluid. “Was that necessary?” Dream asks, voice rough and fucked, and Hob meets on the floor with a smirk.

“No, it was just fun,” he says with a grin, making Dream gasp as he tugs black hair roughly. Pulling him in for a messy kiss, licking some off of Dream's puffy lips as Dream whimpers. His other hand goes to black skinny jeans, swiftly undoing them―and Hob raises his eyebrows, leaning back as Dream’s face reddens. “Was it the praise or the way I used you?”

Dream’s face burns even more as his hand feels a softening cock, come coating his fingers as he takes his hand out.

A different day, and Hob’s spent hours between Dream’s sheets, wringing out orgasms until he’s had his fill, the night air cool on his skin as he sits up on the bed, a warm lamp and moonlight showing their clothes strewn about the room. He at least tries to sit up, with a skinny arm going around his waist, and there’s a groan as Hob puts some of his daggers back into their harnesses. “Cuddly, are you?” He asks.

“No,” Dream groans, muffled against his skin as the other man curls around him, a thumb going under one of his thigh harnesses as bright blue eyes peek at him. “Surely there’s better things to do than whatever you’re planning.”

“Like making you come even more?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he finds his syringe of poison, putting it into place. Dream huffs, pouting as Hob moves off the bed to sheathe even more of his weapons before haphazardly putting on his pants, afterglow settling in his veins.

“I could read to you,” Dream says, pride in his tone and Hob blinks, baffled as he turns to look back at Dream. “I have been told I have a good reading voice,” Dream explains as he picks up a book from his nightstand. Hob considers ― and Dream does have a good voice, and Hob did work very hard today with his own side project of dealing with Burgess.

Hob crosses his arms and waits, although, “well, Prince of Stories?” Hob says sarcastically, and Dream blinks, shock on his face before it quickly becomes blank, Dream flipping through to the start of the book, a bookmark kept in place near the end of it.

“Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen. In Carcosa,” Dream begins, words deep and resounding, and vaguely familiar.

“Horror?” He says with a grin, going back to sit on the edge of the bed. Dream’s eyebrow twitches.

“It’s what I’ve been reading,” is offered primly. Dream clears his throat and pulls the sheets over himself, eyes focused on the page in front of him intently. “Strange is the night where black stars rise. And strange moons circle through the skies But stranger still, is Lost Carcosa―”

Hob frowns as he walks towards the art quarters, knowing that Dream would be there, since he’s not in his room. While the mansion has many cameras, there are none in Dream’s art areas or their rooms ― and not that he’d care for them, but it’s handy, especially with what he wants to talk to Dream about. Sighing, he enters the art room, finding Dream mixing paint near a canvas. “Anything you want to tell me?”

Dream turns around and blinks, paintbrush in his hand dripping black paint. “About?”

“Like another attempt on your parent’s life, which I only found out about after I left your room,” he says slowly, walking closer to Dream.

“What are you implying?” Dream asks, shock giving away to an offended glare as the paintbrush gets put down. Hob doesn’t say anything, just watches as Dream glares at him, and continues―until a tiny tic, Dream looking away momentarily.

“You knew,” he drawls as he grabs the other’s jaw, forcing blue eyes to look at him as Dream tries to look away again. “Why?”

“You have some gall to accuse me,” Dream breathes, trying to push his hand away and failing as Hob digs his nails into Dream’s jaw. There’s a brief look of terror from Dream as his fingers go down a pale throat, beginning to cut air from his windpipe. “It wasn’t,” Dream gasps, voice high, “I did want to spend more time with you, but also.”

“Again. Why?” He asks as he lets go, letting Dream wheeze and take some deep breaths.

“They want to send Delirium off,” Dream mutters, “and we―my sibling and I, don’t want that.”

Hob nods, rumours and attempts coalescing into a clear picture, “that’s all? They want to send her away?”

“Among other things,” Dream says quietly, giving him a wide-eyed look, “you can’t tell anyone.”

Hob crosses his arms as he tilts his head, “I don’t know. I do enjoy the money.”

“Once they’re ― nothing will change with that, I swear,” Dream says, almost pleading, “just a change in who runs things.”

Sighing, Hob steps back as he pats Dream’s cheek, a brief flash of fear crossing the other’s face. And, well, he did briefly consider killing the parents himself for the way they acted with Dream’s kidnapping. “As long I get my money, do what you want,” he says curtly as he leaves.

A day later, and Dream freezes once he enters his bedroom. “Hob, I thought you’d be…” Dream trails off as Hob smiles, waiting for the other man to come closer.

“Maybe I wanted to reward you for being so honest with me,” he says, holding his hands out ― which Dream takes warily as he pulls Dream on top of him. The other man looks confused and apprehensive, even as they share biting kisses. “A gift,” he breathes, smiling as Dream’s hands go under his shirt ― and stops, the hands leaving to pat over his thighs and chest.

“Why do you have no weapons,” Dream says flatly, patting his thighs like he expects them to suddenly materialise from where Hob stashed them in the en suite. Hob resists rolling his eyes, bringing Dream in for another kiss, licking into the other’s mouth as their clothes are shed. The arousal builds slowly as he grabs Dream’s hip, stroking up and down as Dream gets his lube.

“No,” he whispers, and Dream lets out a sound as Hob takes the lube from Dream, coating his fingers in it ― and Dream makes another sound as Hob puts the finger in himself, feeling odd after so many years. “Like this,” he says into Dream’s lips, watching Dream’s eyes widen, mouth dropping as Hob puts another finger in, stretching himself.

“You―what,” Dream chokes, thin hands gabbing his waist tightly as Dream stares down as Hob puts another finger in, stretch sliding from weird to pleasurable as he brushes his prostate, gasping at the jolt of it.

“A gift,” he whispers, looking up through his lashes as he finishes prepping himself ― and putting a condom on Dream’s red, leaking dick. There’s a whimper from Dream, hands fluttering up and down his chest as Dream breeches him. “And a punishment,” Hob says with a grin as Dream bottoms out, and he shivers through the pleasure, nails digging into Dream’s jaw to force those blue eyes to look at him.

“Fucking you? A punishment?” Dream asks, expression flummoxed, then quickly turning into determination and cockiness as Dream holds him down. The rhythm builds quickly, sometimes brushing against that bundle of nerves and bringing Hob closer to orgasm ― and Dream looks quietly smug, blue eyes dark as Hob clenches around him.

Hob blinks, watching as Dream fucks into him, nails scratching marks into his waist as Dream gets closer to coming ― and when Dream exits him, he puts his hand around the other’s cock. Dream cries out, orgasm stopped in place by his hand. “I think I need another orgasm. You, however.”

Dream’s eyes widen, pink mouth gaping, cockiness forgotten, “but I. No. Hob,” Dream pleads, “Hob, please.”

Smiling at how he can feel Dream’s cock twitch and jerk in his hand, he deems the orgasm stopped ― and uses his other hand to control Dream by the hips, guiding him in. Dream cries out, body collapsing on top of him as Hob guides the other’s cock, oversensitivity making it pleasure-painful as his cock eventually starts to fill again, and there’s only the sound of slapping skin, his moans and Dream’s pleading as his next orgasm arrives slowly.

By then, he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm once more, who continues to beg into his neck.

His third orgasm is erring on the side of painful and dry, but he enjoys it anyway as Dream lets out a broken wail as his own orgasm is stopped, Dream’s body shaking above him, and he can feel tears on his neck. “Do you think you’ve learnt yet?” He asks breathlessly, smiling as Dream nods against his neck. “I’m not entirely sure you have, considering that stunt you pulled.”

His fourth orgasm is entirely dry, the oversensitivity making him grit his teeth as his walls clench around Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream at this point is completely incoherent, only the suggestions of begging are almost discernible beneath broken sounds.

It’s after he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm for the seventh time, does he take Dream out, who is a collapsed, shivery mess on top of him. As he gets up from the bed, Dream blindly reaches for him, eventually gripping onto one of his biceps. “Hob,” Dream croaks, blue eyes watery and puffy, black eyeliner running.

“Behave, and I might let you come,” Hob purrs, pulling Dream in for a filthy kiss by his hair, and then leaving to put everything on in the en suite.

Next day, the soreness is pushed away with painkillers ― and the way Dream stares at him, eyes pleading and suit askew at a meeting for the family. Hob listens on with half an ear, mostly looking outside the window as he feels Dream’s gaze on him.

“Oi!” A voice hisses next to him, and Hob turns around to see Matthew ― and a cut-off, decaying finger in a ziplock bag. “Hold this.”

Sighing, he gets out his leather gloves, putting them on before handling that, turning it around to look at a tag also in the bag, only making out a vague Choron, “more dirty work?”

“Trash, actually,” Matthew says as he picks up a drink. Hob gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it, I just wanted a bit of space.”

Hob goes to say something, but catches Dream’s intense stare across the way ― the way Dream’s lips have parted as they hand at his hands. “Ever wonder how they lived with that?” He asks idly, shaking the bag and bringing it up to his eye level, Dream’s gaze pinned on his hands.

Matthew chuckles, and there’s a gulp and sigh as Matthew drinks more of the middling beer usually on offer for such a fancy place as this, “badly, probably. Can’t imagine jerking off with a missing finger, poor fuck,” Matthew says with a laugh. Hob smirks, and the rest of the meeting passes uneventfully, and Hob watches as Dream squirms in his seat, heavy gaze resting on him all the while.

Meeting adjourned, Hob’s unsurprised with how fast Dream appears next to him ― although, the way Dream grabs hold of his lapels and pushes him against the corridor wall is a bit of a surprise, considering the cameras as they share heated kisses. “What brought this on?” He asks, gloved hands holding onto the other’s jaw, watching as Dream shivers, body pressing against him.

“Hob, you know why,” Dream says, tone almost desperate as he pushes his face into Hob’s hand. “Please.”

Humming, his hand trails down the other’s torso, feeling Dream press even closer as he reaches Dream’s clothed cock, his other hand going to tug Dream’s head to the side as he bites into the marks hiding under Dream’s collar. Arousal flares as Dream whimpers, squirming against him as he opens the other’s pants, leather-clad hand stroking Dream’s leaking cock.

“Yes,” Dream gasps, a pale hand gripping the back of his neck as he strokes Dream, almost no friction from pre-come getting onto the leather. “More,” Dream breathes and Hob looks up, catching sight of a goon staring at them.

“Think this is good enough for now, don’t you think?” He smirks, keeping eye contact with the shocked goon as his hand in Dream’s hair ghosts down his back to slide under Dream’s shirt, feeling him shiver and cry out. The goon seems to move out of his stupor and walks out of sight, Hob tracking him as he bites further up Dream’s neck. “After all, the only reason I’m not fucking you at this moment, is if I’m not sure if you deserve it.”

Dream lets out a pathetic sound, clutching him tighter he presses against the slit of Dream’s cock, making the other man shiver. “It won’t―that won’t happen again,” Dream pants.

Hob sighs, twisting his wrist as Dream moans, hands scrabbling desperately over his torso as it takes only a few more strokes until Dream comes. There’s a loud cry, Dream going boneless as his other hand goes to Dream’s front to pinch at pink nipples hidden under the black dress shirt. “Next time, I won’t be as nice,” he says, hand moving out of―

Until Dream grabs his wrist, and his cock, neglected, throbs as Dream licks his come off the black leather, eyes an intense dark blue as they look at him.

“Needy, aren’t you?” He rasps, Dream’s eyes fluttering shut as he continues to lick the his gloved hands, and Hob moans as Dream grabs his cock. Dream undoes his belt and zipper as his thumb presses Dream’s bottom lip, black glove and pink lips making his cock twitch before Dream gets his own hands on it, stroking it in a frenzied rush as Dream bites at his fingers, licking the palm of his hand as Hob comes with a groan.

Dream has asked him to be around his art room, looking haunted ― and Hob gets the impression he’s there for more emotional support again, which. He’s a bit out of practice with, but for Dream usually just requires being in the area, so he’s sitting in one of the plush chairs and reading a book, while Dream mixes paints and glares daggers at a canvas.

There’s a sigh, and a clatter as brushes get put down, “why do you let them do that?” Dream asks, apropos of nothing and Hob blinks, attention dragged away from his book to Dream.

“Let who do what?” He crosses his legs, placing the book down the side of the chair.

“I heard some guards talking about you. They don’t know about you.” Dream clarifies, eyes narrow as they stare at him.

“They don’t matter. And I like to operate so that people under-estimate me,” he shrugs, putting his face on his hands. “Art not co-operating today?”

Dream scowls and glares once again at the canvas, then stands up and comes over to him, hands gripping his thighs. “I read about you ― or what wasn’t heavily redacted. What did you do?”

Hob’s brows raise, and he huffs, gently pushing Dream away with his foot ― and Dream lets out a sound, blue eyes darkening as they stare at his pointed shoes. That’s always an option, Hob considers as he guides Dream onto the floor, shoe on Dream’s shoulder. Cocking his head, he thinks that Dream kneeling for him might be one of his favourite things. “A light disagreement with a former employer, nothing interesting,” he breathes.

“It said you’re to be executed on sight, from the MI6, that wasn’t redacted,” Dream scowls, trying to hold onto getting his answers. Hob hums, smirking as he puts his other leg in between Dream’s, lightly pressing onto the other’s crotch, and Dream gasps.

“The disagreement wasn’t so light, then,” he amends, feeling Dream’s cock fill under his shoe as Dream grabs onto his shin, nails digging into him.

“Hob,” Dream growls, staring up at him with blue eyes swallowed by black ― and Hob’s other shoe taps against Dream’s cheek, trailing to the other’s jaw and pulling his face up, legs loosely crossed as he does.

“Dream,” he mimics, feeling Dream shiver as he grinds his shoe into a hard cock. Hob blinks, resting his head on his hand, watching as Dream holds onto his ankles. “While you’re down there, there’s better things to do than talk about ancient history,” Hob drawls ― and Dream shivers, arching into the shoe on his groin ― and the point of the other shoe presses into Dream’s pink mouth.

“I―I don’t,” Dream whines, muffled by his shoe as he’s given him a wide-eyed look, surprise as Dream grabs onto the shoe near his mouth. There’s a whimper as Hob continues to press onto Dream’s cock, making the other man shudder and curl in on him, Dream’s nose brushing against his other shoe, cheeks flushing red.

“You don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy,” he purrs, own arousal making his dick hard in his pants, and he grins as Dream moans, blue eyes glazed over as they look at him, mouth open. “Look at that,” he breathes, leaning over to grip Dream’s hair, Dream following along obediently. “Now,” he guides Dream’s face to his other shoe, still grinding into Dream’s cock as the other man whimpers. “Be a good boy and lick.”

Dream lets out a whimper, staring up at him, then to his shoe, blinking ― and there's a frisson of pleasure coiling inside at seeing a tentative lick on the top of it, blue eyes fluttering closed. There’s a broken, surprised noise as Dream kisses his shoe, hands moving to grip underneath as kisses and licks get laved upon it.

Having been roughly involved in the BDSM scene, but again. Disagreements, and yet he’s delighted to see how easily Dream falls into subspace, feeling the scrape of teeth through leather as Dream bites at the point of the shoe, sucking it and Hob shivers, dick throbbing as he watches. Licking his lips, he lifts the one on Dream’s crotch, and Dream whines, staring at him imploringly. “If you want to come, you’ll have to work for it.”

Reclining back in the chair and resting his fingers on his cheek, Dream takes a few deep breaths, blinking up at him. Dream moves forward, a hand coming to grip the ankle of the shoe that was grinding into him ― and he lets out a pleased sound as Dream starts to press against his shoe, chest arching into his leg as Dream moves up and down.

“Beautiful,” he praises, stroking Dream’s red cheek as he whines and grounds up against him, licking the top of his other shoe, and there’s only the sound of their breathing, and Dream’s whining, with leather creaking as Dream works himself towards orgasm.

Dream comes with a cry, hiding his face into Hob’s shoe as he pants, weight falling onto Hob’s legs as Dream stares up at him.

A week later, Hob enters Dream’s room, who reacts with ― embarrassment, blue eyes looking away as Dream’s face starts to redden. “What?” Dream asks, voice gruff and giving him a death glare.

“I’m going to visit a mutual friend today,” he says dryly, and Dream, hunched over a desk with a notebook, tenses as Hob pulls a gun out of the holster under his suit jacket. Refraining from rolling his eyes, he grabs the barrel of the gun, butt facing Dream as he walks up to the other man, other hand in his pants. “Remember, whose men I had to deal with to free you?”

Dream’s eyes widen, looking between the gun and his face as Hob leans against the desk. “Why now?”

“Had to make a plan, at least a bit of an effort regarding some things,” he shrugs, and now Dream looks more confused, closing his notebook. “As for this,” he rattles the gun, thumb moving to the side of it to show the shining gleam of it, “a kiss? For luck,” he says with a grin.

The other man scoffs, staring down at the barrel, “why? You don’t need it,” Dream mutters, glancing between the gun and him for a few moments. Hob raises his brows, and Dream’s lips purse before he moves forward, lips pressing onto the barrel of the gun. There’s a clack of teeth against steel as Dream grabs onto his hand, eyes dark as they stare up at him.

A pink tongue presses against the barrel and Hob takes a breath, feeling himself get half-hard as Dream pulls him down, breath almost mingling over the top of the gun― And Hob takes the gun away, putting it back in its holster, Dream’s stare heavy and Hob forces his mind back on track, that’s not filled with Dream’s delicious cries and warm skin. “Later,” he manages, voice rough as he steps back, and eventually out of the room.

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #writing #not sfw #oh my amoral baby of a fic i care you so much #the second part is pretty much almost done and so

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baiabay · 10 months

Text

No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Chapter 1: Scaredy-Cat

Prologue

Chapter 1: Current Chapter

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name ! <33

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A/N: Spot is here!!

Hey all! Okay so first things first thank you so much for all the support of the last chapter! It honestly means alot given that ive never written before lol. Alsoooo sorry for the radio-silence after the last release, i just graduated highschool! So yay for me :) also means that ill have much more time to write since its summer break for me now. Lastly,sorry if this chapter seemed kinda slow, I wanted to try to incorporate what this universes’ Felicia Hardys “canon events”(or what would be of her canon events) would look like in this chapter to set up a bit of backstory, as someone who doesn’t read the comics nor play the games, pls forgive any inaccuracies in Felicias lore as I am only going based off of wikipedia (plus in this story reader is a minor so I wanted to exclude the nsfw trauma that Felicia goes through in og story) I also wanted to find out a way how to integrate reader into the main plot which is why i decided to feature Spot in this chapter :D thanks again for the support and don’t forget that this chapter along with any future ones will be posted to ao3/tumblr under the same title!

P.S. Much more Spider-Miles/Black Cat interactions next chapter!!

Word Count: 1844

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You remembered it like it was yesterday.

Seven months ago, Brooklyn, New York.

Your father - The Black Cat’s face on every screen in the country, but most importantly yours.

BREAKING NEWS: WORLD-RENOWNED CAT BURGLAR CAUGHT IN THE ACT : IDENTITY SHOCKS THE NATION

…huh?

LIVE ON THE SCENE: ‘BLACK CAT’ REVEALED TO BE MULTI MILLIONAIRE WALTER HARDY AFTER RUN-IN WITH SPIDER-MAN

…no, this-

THIS JUST IN: CAT BURGLAR WALTER HARDY PRESUMED DEAD AT HEIST SCENE - POSSESSIONS TO BE TURNED IN TO OFFICIALS

This can’t be happening.

It was all too much at once.

He never kept it secret from you. You knew about your father’s job.

You knew all about what he did. The planning, the heists, the reselling, he had done it for years. And you knew all about it. But he had been doing this for years. Long enough to allow your family to live very comfortably. Long enough that you believed he would never be caught.

But yet there you were, all that you knew burned to the ground in a matter of minutes.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Frantically packing everything you could into any bag you could find; clothes, money, pictures, weapons, anything - before they could take it away from you.

And when they did, it was brutal.

Live-streamed news coverage of men raiding your home, rummaging through your stuff- your father’s stuff- as if he never existed.

Soon enough there were auctions. Bids, worth millions, on your father’s items, broadcasted across the nation, with drinks and music and finger foods - they made a fucking sport out of it.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the cheers in the street after the big-bad-black-cat was pronounced dead. The endless praise Spider-man received, that of which he took with a smile on his face. You had wished you could kill him.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the day Peter Parker died.

You laughed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Seven months later, Brooklyn, New York.

Ugh.

Muscles aching, you stretched up in your bed, and groaned. Ruffling the bedhead out of your hair, you reluctantly trudged out of your mattress to open a window. Coincidentally, one of your many cats was perched perfectly on its sill, wide-eyed and tail flicking in your direction.

“...This whole heist stuff is really catching up to me, huh?”

The cat stared. You sighed. You really had to get yourself some friends.

Ever since your fathers passing, you’ve basically been on your own. Shortly after all his (and your) possessions were seized, you hopped around until you managed to find shelter in a shitty apartment on the west side of town. You, fueled purely by spite (with a tasteful teeny tiny dash of vengeance on the side), inherited the criminal persona of your father, along with his criminal tendencies, and took upon yourself the name of The Black Cat.

All this time you’ve managed to keep your identity completely secret, not even your resellers knew who you were. That came with one major drawback though… you were extremely lonely.

Even with your frequent charity rounds around the community, noone really knew who you were. Even though Black Cat was nonviolent, the name was widely feared seemingly everywhere you went. Even with your days at school, the school you’ve been going to for months now, you made your way around the halls unnoticed.

Speaking of school, you were late.

Shit.

Spending ample time dazing out your window, you’ve completely lost track of time. You disregarded your hair and rushed to pull on your uniform. Stumbling around your complex you hastily dumped too large of a portion of cat food into the automatic feeder, something you’re sure the cats will be grateful for. Shoving a few snacks into your bag, you simultaneously shuffled into your school shoes, proceeding to dash out the door.

Sprinting down the stairs, nearly tripping once, twice, you whipped out your phone to check when the next bus route would arrive. 35 minutes.

Shitshitshit.

You paused, still in the stairwell, before turning to sprint in the opposite direction, towards the rooftop terrace. Creaking open the door, you checked to make sure noone else was up there before making your way towards the edge of the terrace. To anyone else but you, it would look like a young student was about to make an unfortunate decision and jump. And jump you did.

You fell for a few seconds, relishing in the way your stomach dropped. You’d never get tired of that feeling. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building. Pulling and releasing, you quickly fell into a swinging pattern, towards Brooklyn Visions.

Hidden from the eyes of civilians, you swung yourself through the shadows. Everyone looked so small from up there, and for a brief second, you found power in your lonesome. In the corner of your eye you noticed what seemed to be a lanky white figure clumsily flying through the air. (You paid it no mind).

Dropping down into a dark alleyway much closer to campus, you continued your mad dash towards the main entrance. Winded, you finally made your way inside the building, a thin layer of sweat shined on your forehead. The hallways were empty, class must be in session. You took a few steps forward, making your way towards your classroom until being knocked over by a student, very evidently in a hurry.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-I’m just in a rush, I didn’t mean…”

The boy reached out his hand to help you up.

“Hey, it's no problem, I get it.”

You smiled, and took your hand in his. He hesitated for a moment, staring, brows furrowed at your now interlocked hands, before nodding and continuing his sprint down the hallways.

You took in his disheveled appearance, his wonky tie, his half-tucked shirt, untied laces, dark eyes, curly hair, brown skin, sweaty palms…

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted with the shrill ringing of the school bell. Suddenly, the hallways flooded with students rushing towards their next classes, you decided to follow suit.

On the other side of the hallway, Miles Morales lingered on how his spidey-sense flashed alarms in his head when his hand touched yours. Every nerve in his system telling him to run, fight, dodge, anything to get away from you-he couldn't put his finger on why. (He paid it no mind). Blaming it on nerves, Miles shoved his way through the packed hallways, dreading the meeting waiting for him in the guidance counselor's office.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

School was a bust, as always. Nothing new, you made your way through the rest of the day unnoticed. As always. But you didn’t have time to think about that right now.

At the moment, you were in the middle of going through numerous number-codes on a padlock blocking the vault door to an extremely expensive gemstone. You’ve been salivating over this stone for weeks now, planning out how and when exactly you would strike to get this thing in your hands. You could see it now, the headlines, the chaos, after some rando millionaire’s little rock was taken from him…

“Woah, hey, you’re new!”

You flinched, hard. Whipping around towards the source of this unusually chipper voice. You were met with… a cow? … Man?

You stared, hard.

“Okay, hey. The ogling isn’t necessary… I just-”

The cowman’s sentence was cut short with a quick lash of your whip, that of which he caught…? Your whip seemed to phase right through a large black hole on his torso, the opposite end appearing in a similar black hole right behind you, the whips end striking your back. You cried out, hit with the full force of your lash.

Sinister giggles emerged from the spotted figure, pointed towards your pained form. You trembled, in shock.

“It’s rude to interrupt.”

Spot stepped slowly towards you, his…well, spots, whirring aggressively, pointedly. You were frozen on the ground. Staring up at him, your lips trembled open.

“What,” You coughed. Once, twice. “-what are you?”

The black and white figure straightened, only to then fold over into a dramatic, hilariously unthreatening pose.

“You, can call me… The Sp-”

“Some sort of cow?” You snickered. It was now his turn to flinch, hard.��

“I am NOT a-” The cow cleared his throat. “I am not a cow…whydoeseveryonesaythat…I, am the most dangerous villain you’ve ever seen, The Spo-”

“I mean, what’s with that getup?” The grin on your face grew. “Is that… is that supposed to be a costume? Orrrr…”

The Spot sighed, defeated. “...it’s skin.”

“It’s skin?”

“Yes, yes, now I-”

You stood up, energy back and eyes crinkled.

“Wow, that’s…hm, interesting…skin, that’s skin? Sorry, sorry-listen man, I uh, I really gotta get back to this, so if you don’t mind?”

Stepping backwards in offence, the spotted figure shook in anger before swinging out his arm, releasing numerous dark voids around the room. Hitting practically every surface, but one most importantly, landing on the vault door, separating you, from your stone.

“Ah-wait-”

Swiftly, The Spot weaved his way through his holes, limbs popping up and out around the room in a way you couldn’t even begin to reach for your whip.

No way was he about to take it from you.

But take it, he did.

In what felt like seconds, the whole room was engulfed in black. Stumbling backwards, you fell through one of the voids, flailing ungracefully, swimming through nothing.

It was hard to breathe.

A shrill crackling terrorized your ears, and before you, appeared a very disheveled Spot, now fully black with white spots, facial dot whirring and trained on you.

Gem in hand.

Panic.

You were panicking. The sound of blood thrummed in your ears as you squirmed around in nothingness. Fuck the rock, you just had to get out of here.

A cold hand grabs your wrist, dragging you upwards, towards the crackling form.

For the second time today, you were frozen.

“I am not a cow,”

The form spoke lowly.

“I am not some villain of the week”,

Frozen still, you did nothing but stare straight into his glare.

“I. Am. The Spot”.

Suddenly, you were dropped. For the second time today, your stomach dropped with you. Next thing you know you’re falling through another void, leading not into darkness, but through the city skyline. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building.

As soon as your feet reached a solid surface, your legs buckled. Heaving, you failed to process what just took place, heart pounding in your ears.

“...the fuck was that?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Miles received word of commotion taking place downtown, something to do with spots. He had hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was, and it was. It was, and was so much worse.

Dark spots littered a large manor, maniacal cackling emerging from its center. In the corner of his eye a familiar masked figure hunched over, breathing rapidly, staring straight ahead at the mess of spots.

(He paid it some mind.)

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Ppl that asked me to tag them!(thxx 4 the support!)

@nightshxdex

@itszzmoon

@blackcat-kittyblogs

@vxxxb

#miles morales x reader #atsv x you #atsv #reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv reader insert #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #black cat! reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miguel ohara

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 2 months

Text

Nick Amaro NSFW Alphabet

Guys I finished rewatching season 14 and I forgot how much I hate the storyline they give Nick. I love him as a character, but I would love to completely reconstruct his backstory. He has to be one of the most personally screwed-over characters in SVU. Am I the only one who hates the hidden love child-which I’m completely disregarding? Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

Warnings- Some Maria-hate (sorry not sorry).

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Nick's aftercare is exceptional. He cleans you up, washing any mess he has made off you with a warm washcloth or a hot shower. Then it is cuddling and whatever you want in your post-glow bliss. Usually, it’s time for you to talk about whatever you want. Something you did, a movie you saw, an awful joke you heard that you laughed at but didn’t seem worth bothering him about. He wants to hear it all.

It’s a time that you have this full attention. Sometimes it leads to more vulnerable emotional conversations that he seems to have an easier time having when his walls are down after sex. Sometimes words are too much and the two of you just hold each other, caressing each other's bodies.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Nick’s favorite body part of himself is his hands. They are rough, calloused, and strong from years of sports, hard work, and shooting a gun. They are dexterous and versatile enough to accomplish his endless paperwork, playing catch with Zara, fixing things around the house, and his favorite teasing you with them until you come apart so prettily with his name on your lips.

Nick loves your entire body. He tells you all the time there is nothing he would ever change. He loves your curves and doesn’t discriminate between them. Why be a boobs or ass man, when he has two hands and a willing mouth that can have both and more?

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Nick is a jealous man, and he knows it. You are his and nobody else. After spending a significant amount of time watching any another man try to talk or flirt with you there is nothing more that he wants to do than take you to his bed and paint his cum all over your body. It gives him undeniable satisfaction seeing his seed on your skin claiming you in the most barbaric way. He should hate it because it may be considered demeaning, but he can’t. Even later when he is cleaning you up, he smiles knowing the evidence of his DNA still lingers on your skin, clinging to you.

D = Dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not necessarily dirty but you made Nick come embarrassingly early by calling him Papi one day out of nowhere while you were riding him. He never liked the idea of being called daddy by his partners. It seemed weird to him but hearing the word Papi come from your lips as you took your pleasure from him did all the right things.

When you guys were basking in the afterglow, he casually asked you about the nickname. You had admitted that one of your friends had told you it was a common term of endearment for Cuban men but you seemed a bit embarrassed. Instead of just telling you he liked it he spent the next few months trying to casually reinforce the nickname whenever you used it by getting you off as many times as possible.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Nick has experience. While he did go through a bit of a Casanova stage in his teens and early twenties, he has always been more of a long-term partner kind of guy. The different women did teach him about different ways to enjoy sex and a bit of experimentation. However, when he married Maria, it was narrowed down to what she liked. She liked sex that was very plain and vanilla, missionary mostly. She wasn't very interested in sex after she had Zara and what they did do was repetitive.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Nick’s favorite position is doggy. He likes the control of your body it gives. His hands are free to caress and massage you. He can take you with your back pressed tightly to his chest fistful of your hair to make you look at him and steal open mouth kisses as he thrust into you. Or he can push you down on your knees with your face in the mattress as he holds your wrist behind your back and pounds into you hard and fast. Moans and his name bouncing from the walls as he takes you deeper and deeper. He loves leaving Hickes and love bites on your neck and down the back of your shoulder.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nick is a very passionate man but that doesn’t always translate into seriousness. You guys have had sex that you have laughed halfway through. You have been mid sex and his beard rubbed just right to tickle you and send you squirming with laughter that was contagious.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Nick’s hair is dark and thick, and it curls when it gets too long. He keeps it trimmed up for hygiene's sake typically. He doesn’t think much about it when it gets overgrown when life is too busy, or he just can’t be bothered. When he is in a relationship, he keeps up on it more as a respectful consideration for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nick is the definition of a Latino lover. He will spend his time with foreplay and the sex making sure you know how important you and your pleasure are to him. He calls you sweet nicknames and tells you how much you mean to him and how he has missed you and your body. If he pins your hands, he intertwines your fingers.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nick doesn’t masturbate often. When he does it's usually not to pleasure himself so much as to get a release from some stress. It’s quick and efficient and then he washes up and continues with his day or gets ready for sleep. He will also get himself off if he is horny, but you are not available or in the mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Nick’s love language is words of affirmation, and he has a major praise kink that he likes to mix with his dirty talk. He is also a bit of an exhibitionist. He likes to push the line of where you can have sex without getting caught. Just be careful while he’s drinking because it heightens all these kinks and can lead to some pretty close calls.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nick’s favorite place to have sex is the bedroom because it has the most options and comfort. He has become a big fan of the laundry room. While the space is limited, Zara doesn’t feel the need to interrupt when you go in there because she doesn’t think there is anything of value and would rather watch TV while you guys do the ‘laundry’ unlike when you guys try to sneak away to the bedroom or bathroom. There is a door so there is no risk of her getting in there unexpectedly. Nick has also found many uses for the dryer while it’s on that aren’t clothes-related.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Nick is not hard to convince to have sex or turn on. But he is a very visual man, and if you want to make him go feral wearing lingerie or one of his shirts buttoned halfway up is a good way of giving him an instant boner.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nick grew up with an abusive dad and he watched him beat his mom. He will never hit, slap, or do anything that could hurt you. An open-palmed smack on the ass is about as far as he will take it and that’s only if you enjoy it. He will never degrade you because it is against his morals of respecting women.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Nick likes to get as much as he likes to receive. He wants you to sit on his face, sit not hover. If you don’t know the difference, he will pull you down on top of him and lick and devour your cunt until your legs are shaking to the point where sitting is the only option. He will work you up so well you will be riding his face. He loves 69ing too. Your moan vibrating around his dick from the pleasure of him eating out your pretty pussy? The answer is always yes.

Nick loves a good blowjob. You found that it can fix his bad attitude. He came home in a bad mood and was trying to start a fight about something petty and irrelevant. He was in the kitchen slamming stuff around as he was making his coffee, bitching about how messy it was. You knew it had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with a disaster case, and marched over to him and grabbed his belt. He froze at first not sure what was going on, but it wasn't complaints falling from his lips when you dropped to your knees and gave him a quick messy blowjob. When you were done and got back to your feet, you pecked his lips and told him you were late for work leaving him stunned. When you returned home the kitchen was clean, he had cooked homemade traditional Cuban food, and he apologized to you all night long with a lot more than just his mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Nick likes to make the foreplay slow and passionate, to make sure you are satisfied and ready to take him. When it comes to sex his preferred pace is fast and on the rougher side. Your body in his hands as he pounds into you your breast bouncing, head thrown back as you take him.

He does have a gentler side that comes out quite often. One that takes you slow and steady. He will kiss every inch of your body whispering Spanish words of endearment and praise against your skin. These are the times he wants to look you in the eyes and make sure you know his love for you in this physical act. That you can hear it, feel it, taste it, and see it in his eyes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Nick loves a good quicky. Life is busy, especially with a job like his and kids. Sometimes you just have to take those fifteen minutes and make them worth every second. It doesn’t always need to be long to be good and satisfying. Besides Nick enjoys seeing you after a quick tousle out with your friends or random people knowing exactly what causes that flush in your cheeks. Knowing that his cum is still leaking out of you and into your wet panties unless of course he still has them in his pocket for safekeeping.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nick is willing to experiment with his limits. He is willing to try any position you want at least once. He likes to push the limits where you two can get away with having sex. He likes the bathrooms at bars, the laundry room when Zara is preoccupied, and getting head when he is driving in low to no-traffic areas. He likes the adrenaline of the possibility, but he doesn’t actually want to get caught.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Nick has stamina for days. He can drag out foreplay and sex for hours if you will let him. If you're planning on a sleepless night and are okay walking a little funny the next day you only have to give him about a half hour to recuperate and he will be ready to go again if you are.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, Nick’s not a toy guy. He is kind of old-fashioned and I think he might take it as a hit to his masculinity if you wanted to use them when you were in bed together.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nick is an ungodly tease. His sweet and dirty talk is second to none. He can get you wet just by telling you about what he is going to do to you. The innocent but consistent touches drive you crazy. Then when he finally has you in the bedroom you can almost taste the pleasure, he is going to give you. He teases you more and tisks about how impatient you are. “All good things come to those who wait, Corazón.”

If you want his teasing to stop, you will have to beg him or start teasing him back. He can give way better than he can take. You will have him changing his pace quick.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Nick isn’t loud but he is by no means silent. He likes to dirty talk, and praise you in bed with a mix of English and Spanish words. He grunts and moans but keeps the noise to a minimum when Zara is in the house. If he knows that there isn’t a risk of being interrupted or overheard that is when Nick gets louder and likes to fuck you to upbeat Cuban music.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Nick doesn’t know how to ask for attention or affection. He grew up with a controlling abusive father and a traumatized turned aloof mother. Then he married Maria, a strong-willed but distant and emotionally unavailable soldier. He never got consistent affection and doesn't understand his own need for it. He doesn’t consciously know he does it, but when he needs that affection, he will initiate sex even if he is not in the mood to have it. He will make it so good for you like he has to earn it. You will moan and call his name as he wrecks you with his fingers and mouth.

Then he will usually wave you off when you go to reciprocate even if he is hard. He knows that what he really wants is already within reach because when you are pleasure drunk and boneless it always means that you are willing and wanting to cuddle. Your fingers will stroke and play with his hair, your other hand wandering his back teasing tense muscles until they relax. It takes you a long time to figure out what he is doing and when you do it breaks your heart.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Nick has a lean body with muscular arms and thighs. His chest is toned with a visible six-pack. He has a sparse dusting of hair on his lower stomach, a happy trail leading down to his goods. Nick is a big boy, above average in size. His cock is thick and long with a slight upwards curve.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Nick has a pretty high sex drive but good control over it. While he would prefer to have sex four or five times a week, he doesn’t expect that. He has times when he becomes a sex hound, and you swear it always seems to match up to when you're ovulating. His sex drive can also completely diminish during bad sex crime cases.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nick is one of those rare men that sex boosts his energy, at least for a little while. The flood of endorphins gives him a giddy relaxed high. If it is a quickie or during the middle of the day, he will have the sudden urge to accomplish something, or if you're really lucky cook traditional Cuban food. If it’s time for bed you will almost always fall asleep before him, but he is content to lay in bed with you either just cuddled up or playing games on his phone until the high fades.

I forgot how long this prompt takes but hey there’s Nick’s! I have quite a few Nick miniseries that I’m going to be working on. One is the relationship building between the reader and Zara while still featuring Nick of course.

I have another series that will be more angsty and will probably take longer because it’s going to be a split vibe of what could have happened in a situation with Nick and the reader's relationship when tragedy hits. I’m excited to challenge my writing in that way.

Let me know if either of these piques your interest! I hope you enjoyed xoxo

#law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #svu #nick amaro x you #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro imagine #nick amaro svu #nick amaro

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demi-shoggoth · 3 months

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2024 Reading Log, pt 2

006. Gardening Can Be Murder by Marta McDowell. I honestly thought that this book was going to be about something else. With the subtitle “how poisonous plants, sinister shovels and grim gardens have inspired mystery writers”, I thought it was going to be about, you know, that. True crime themed to gardens, discussions of poisonous plants, that sort of thing. The book is actually about the mystery books that have gardening as a theme. And while the author’s dedication to not spoiling anything (seriously, anything, even 150 year old stories like The Moonstone or “Rappacini’s Daughter”) is admirable in its own way, this leaves the book feeling like endless buildup without any payoff. Big fans of murder mysteries might enjoy this—especially the last chapter, which interviews writers about their gardens—but I found it more boring than anything else, and finished it only because it was very short.

007. Antimony, Gold and Jupiter’s Wolf by Peter Wothers. This book is about how the elements got their names, and most of it deals with the early modern period, as alchemy transitioned to chemistry and then into the 19th century, when chemistry was a real science, but things like atomic theory were not yet understood. The book goes into fascinating detail, and has a lot of quotes from primary sources, as scientists then were just like scientists now, that is, opinionated and bickering with each other over their preferred explanations. And names! Many of the splits between elements and their symbols (like Na for sodium) are due to compromise attempts to appease two different factions with their preferred names. A book covering arcane minutia of history always has the risk of feeling like a slog, but this is a fast and fun read.

008. Doctor Dhrolin’s Dictionary of Dinosaurs by Nathan T Barling and Michael O’Sullivan, illustrations by Mark P Witton. This book is an odd concept, but one that I was immediately on board with—a D&D book written by paleontologists with the intention of bringing accurate and interesting stats for prehistoric reptiles to the game. The fact that it’s mostly illustrated by Mark Witton definitely clinched my backing that Kickstarter. And this book is a lot of fun. So much so, that I read it all in a single sitting. I don’t know how accurate the stats are (like, a Hatzegopteryx has a higher CR than titanosaurs or T. rexes), but they seem like they’d be fun in play, and the writing does a good job of combining fantasy fun with actual education. Even for someone not running a 5e game, the stuff on how to run animals as not killing machines, and the mutation tables, could be useful. There are multiple types of playable dinosaurs, all of which seem like they’d work well at the table and avoid typical stereotypes, and a lot of in-jokes and pop culture references (like the cursed staff of unspared expense, which looks like Hammond’s cane in the Jurassic Park movie).

009. Romaine Wasn’t Built in a Day by Judith Tschann. I’m a sucker for books about etymology. And this one, on food etymology, is a pretty breezy read. I had fun with it, and it even busted some misconceptions that I had, etymologically speaking. Like, there’s no evidence that “bloody” as an explicative originated from “God’s blood”? Wild. Etymology books tend to be written in a sort of stream-of-consciousness style, where talking about one word may lead down a garden path to the next one. The book also has a couple of little matching quizzes, which is something I haven’t seen in a book since like the 90s.

010. The Lives of Octopuses and their Relatives by Danna Staaf. I was previously a little disappointed in The Lives of Beetles, another book in this series, but I knew I liked Staaf, who wrote the excellent book Squid Empire about cephalopod evolution and paleontology. I’m pleased to report that this book is also excellent. Staaf takes the “lives” part seriously, and the book is arranged by ecology, looking at different marine habitats, the challenges that they pose to living things, and the cephalopods that live there. Cuttlefish get slightly short shrift in this book compared to squids and octopuses, but that’s about the biggest complaint I had. I like how the species profiles cover more obscure taxa, and information about the best studied (like Pacific giant octopus and Humboldt squid) is kept to the chapters.

#reading log #marine biology #cephalopods #etymology #food history #tabletop rpgs #dinosaurs #D&D 5e #chemistry #periodic table #history of science #mystery #horticulture

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thatgirlwithasquid · 4 months

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Sometimes Werewolves Need Baths Too

4,374 words || also on ao3

Super excited to share this fic and art as my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race :D

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The fur on Billy’s back is matted and tangled, clumped up with dirt and forest debris that itches against his skin infuriatingly. Every time he shifts he can feel it tugging at the roots of his fur, pinching his skin with every panting breath that clouds in the cold winter air that has draped over the woods like a smothering icy embrace.

It’s calm, though.

That’s something that life in the lab had never been, not even for a moment. Only pain, and suffering, and sorrow. Howling calls of every other child locked away and experimented on echoing through every empty room.

Living like this, feral and animalistic in these endless frosted woods, will always be preferable to the sorrow of that man-made hell. The air here, though burning cold in his lungs, is fresh and clear. The water runs free in its rivers and the ground beneath the pads of his feet is soft dirt rather than sickly impersonal tiles.

Freedom, out here, is something he would endure any dirt and coldness to keep. No matter that he’ll only ever be safe as a wolf out here, not a boy. He has made too many careless choices around his freedom before now, something he’ll be sure never to do again.

Hunting is difficult. Living in that damn lab for so long had stolen any wild instincts from him, save for that primal need to claw and bite his way to freedom. They could manage though, him and Eleven. They will.

Next to him, she finally catches up from their run and flops down into the crystalised grass, disturbing the frost there. With any luck, it can clean her coat some; or, at least better than Billy has been managing.

Billy doesn’t think he was made to be a big brother. It’d only been him and his mom against the world when he was younger, at least until his mom ran and his dad handed him over like some oddity to be poked and prodded in the name of science.

It’s not going to stop him from trying, because Eleven deserves better than this. Hell, she deserves better than him but he’s the best he can offer here.

Leaning down, Billy licks away a spot of dirt from between her ears. It ruffles the fur there and she huffs at him, kicking out a paw to bat at his leg.

Grumbling at her ungratefulness, Billy trots away.

There was a reason they were running out this way, after all. Hunting is hard, but begging is infeasible… save for one person.

It’s incredibly lucky for them that the Harrington residence backs directly onto the forest where Billy and Eleven have set up their little den and claimed it as their own. Otherwise they’d have never found him, and, especially in those early days, that was all that kept them alive. Without the young Harrington’s generosity, he and Eleven wouldn’t have made it three weeks.

Even after all this time, with nearly a year passing since they broke out, Billy can’t be sure if the Harrington boy knows what they are or just thinks they’re normal wolves. Nearly a year of running, and hiding, and chasing down rabbits to keep them alive and Billy still can’t even tell if the closest thing to a friend they have out here knows that they’re werewolves.

He smelled what Harrington was the first time he came across him, of course. Spending half his childhood shut away with other kids like him and a bunch of humans gave him a good basis for understanding what their kind smells like. It doesn’t matter that Harrington and his dad don’t smell nearly as strong as the werewolves Billy is used to, he can still smell what lingers in their blood.

And, even if he hadn’t, he’d have recognised it the first time the younger Harrington saw him, eyes flashing that familiar amber as he startled. The werewolf in his blood may be weak and distant, but it’s still very much there, and that’s enough for Billy to be certain and Eleven to take a liking to him.

The crunching of tires on gravel gives them pause, but, after pricking his ears, Billy is sure it’s just the Harringtons’ car pulling out of the driveway. Date night, he thinks. Which means it’s just them and the son.

That’s always preferable; Mrs Harrington had screamed the first time her son told his parents about the wolves he saw prowling out the back of their garden. She wouldn’t be happy to know her son feeds them when hunting comes up sparse, and even if Mr Harrington is indifferent Billy doesn’t think he’s unlikely to take his wife’s side.

The teen likes them, though.

His face splits into a hesitant smile when he spots them through the glass doors at the back of his home. Billy and Eleven’s eyes glow out like flickering embers from the darkness of the treeline, hiding in the growing shadows of a darkening hour.

Knowing the house will be empty other than their ally, Billy nudges Eleven forward, keeping a careful eye on her as she walks around the edge of the Harringtons’ covered pool.

The back door slides open and, as they have made their routine, Billy and Eleven hover at the edge of the patio. Harrington, as usual, stays one step from the door. It’s a good truce; enough space for either of them to turn and run.

“Hi,” Harrington greets them, crouching down and tucking his legs under himself to sit and face them. “You haven’t been back for a month.”

Billy chuffs, feeling unfairly chastised, but the effect is minimal with Eleven wagging her tail delightedly. Since they got out, she’s really begun to come out of her shell, especially around Harrington. Billy really wishes she could have friends her age, but in their situation that’s just not safe.

Rolling his eyes at her enthusiasm, Billy settles down on his belly, watching the pair of them from the corner of his eye with a feigned disinterest.

“Are you hungry?”

Billy can almost feel the air shift as Eleven perks up in excitement. Her nose twitches, smelling for any treats he might have hidden away on his person for her.

“Yeah? Great! I’ll get you something. I don’t think there’s much in, but I can… put some chicken tenders in the oven?”

With that, he gets up and lets himself back into his house. It shows a great deal of, frankly, stupid trust in what he perceives to be just some wild wolves that he leaves the door open behind him. Eleven is happy to use that to her benefit, though.

She scurries around to the other side of Billy, trying to peer into the house through the open door to watch Steve make them some food. It’s endearing, of the both of them; Harrington feeding wild animals food from his freezer and Eleven’s delight in his company and the human food it brings.

Truth be told, Billy is excited too. Until Harrington, Billy hadn’t had any human food since his mother was around. It’s nice, a little reminder of the other side of their nature that they’re unable to indulge in anymore.

He’s not sure Eleven had even had chicken tenders until Harrington.

The girl beside him, growing impatient, goes to take a step closer to the house. With a nip to her flank, Billy warns her off that idea as quick as she can even act on it. It’s not something Eleven is too pleased with, given the grumbling growl she lets out, but she does listen to him. He’s glad she still listens to that prerequisite of their escape; she always has to do as Billy says, to keep them safe.

Harrington’s face, when Billy looks back over, has appeared in the doorway. It seems he has seen Billy’s warning, because his face is considering and his feet carry him a step further than their usual place. The closer proximity makes Billy growl, a low warning in his throat.

This isn’t how they do this. For both of their safety, they have the unspoken agreement that they never get closer.

For a moment, it seems as if Harrington remembers himself. He glances away anxiously, stilling there. It’s almost enough for Billy to ease his tension, but then the boy’s shoulders set and he takes another deliberate step forward.

This time, Billy’s on his feet like a shot, snarling openly at him. He doesn’t want to have to attack, or run. He likes what they have with Harrington, it’s saved their skins too many times for comfort, but if he has to give it up to keep Eleven safe, he will. He’s all Eleven’s got and he won’t let anything happen to her just because they trusted the wrong person; even those who have been kind to Billy in the past have betrayed him before.

He thinks of his mother’s face, and the absence of her smell from their house. It was so long ago that he almost can’t remember it.

Eleven seems uncertain too, hesitating in moving away but holding her body tense.

“It’s okay,” Harrington soothes. “It’s okay.”

His tone makes some of the tension bleed out of Eleven’s posture, but that alone has Billy’s hackles rising further. She can’t drop her guard, they can’t afford to! For them it’s the difference between life and death. Friends are just something they can’t risk, no matter what she and Harrington want. No matter what Billy might want.

When Harrington takes another step, Billy’s growl grows even louder. One more step and he’ll be signalling Eleven to run. One more step and he’ll fend Harrington off, no matter what he has to do. One more step and—

“Enough,” Harrington huffs, eyes glowing their steady amber now.

Despite everything, it calms something in him. Amber eyes have meant safety to him, always, no matter what situation they’re in. He wants to pounce when Harrington shuffles another inch closer, but all the fight seems to flow out of him, something in his panicked chest settling.

Harrington stops in arms reach of them, dropping into a crouch in front. Billy remains still as a statue, but Eleven’s tail starts to sway back and forth happily. Harrington’s eyes are still glowing that warm, safe amber and Billy can’t look away. It’s like he’s been hypnotised. Transfixed.

A frown tugs at Harrington’s face as he takes in the state of them, but that doesn’t stop him from offering out a hand for Eleven to sniff. Seemingly content with the offering, Eleven nudges her head against his palm, encouraging him to rake his fingers through her fur.

Even when the texture of it makes Harrington cringe, he obliges. Turning to Billy doesn’t get him met with the same acceptance, though. He’s not prepared to throw away all his caution, not just for some pretty eyes.

“You’re filthy,” he observes, dusting the dried mud off his hands.

As if remembering the discomfort of the filth caking her fur, Eleven shakes and scratches at her skin.

“Yeah, that doesn’t feel good, does it?”

Harrington glances around, looking for a solution to the problem.

“I could hose you off…?”

Billy growls again. There is no way he’s letting some guy hose him down with icy water, no matter how mucky he gets. He'd rather remain filthy than suffer that humiliation.

“Fine, okay. Whatever.”

Harrington huffs, sitting down on the floor in front of them. Eleven happily trots over to his side, dropping her head onto his lap in a bid to receive more affection. Months in these woods have turned her pretty touch starved, no matter how often Billy curls up with her.

Hesitantly, Billy settles down again, keeping a watchful eye on Harrington with Eleven. Just in case.

When a timer goes off in the kitchen, Harrington jumps to his feet and hurries off to take the food out of the oven. It’s a little while before he gives it over to them, letting it properly cool so as to not upset their stomachs, but every bite is heavenly.

“That’s better,” Harrington coos as they eat, reaching out to pet Billy’s fur, not that Billy allows him to actually do that.

Eleven flops down contentedly, but Harrington still looks thoughtful. If he’s about to suggest the hose again Billy will be happy to rethink his thankfulness.

“I’m going to get in so much trouble for this,” he murmurs under his breath before Harrington addresses them again with a clap of his hands. “Okay! Let’s go get you guys in the tub. You need a bath.”

Eleven doesn’t even hesitate before she’s jumping up to follow Harrington into the house. It’s something that Billy doesn’t even have time to contest before the both of them are slipping through the doorway and into the building. That leaves Billy with no choice but to follow them inside, listening out for anything alarming. Even if Eleven has let down her guard, he won’t.

The Harringtons’ house is huge and immaculate, not a piece of furniture out of place. Of course, that changes when Eleven comes bounding through, leaving a trail of muddy pawprints that has Harrington cringing again. Billy is prepared to jump in and defend Eleven from his frustration… but nothing comes. Harrington simply pats her on the head and continues down the hall with her.

The bathroom is upstairs and two doors on the left.

The walls are all pristine teal tiles, the colour matched in all the bathroom furniture. Out of a cupboard, Harrington pulls out a pair of fluffy white towels that has even Billy feeling incredulous. He wants to wash two filthy werewolves… here? With those? In this nice clean bathroom?

Maybe they are safe with Harrington; the guy is clearly an idiot.

If wolves could make incredulous facial expressions, that’s what Billy would be doing right now. Instead he simply watches on as Harrington runs the taps, testing the water temperature between grabbing different colourful bottles of soap from the shelves.

Eleven looks ecstatic, hopping from foot to foot at the prospect of finally having a wash after far too long. It’s understandable, even Billy finds himself somewhat excited for her as the water froths with a sweet-smelling bubbly solution.

The younger lets out a happy yip when Harrington beckens her over and clambers into the tub. She seats herself in the centre, sniffing at the bubbles and sneezing when they inevitably tickle her nose. It makes Harrington laugh as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, kneeling on the floor beside the tub.

His hands quickly become covered in the frothy brown evidence of the dirt being washed from Eleven’s fur as he scrubs. It’s not something he minds too much, given the minimal complaining—though he does curse when Eleven shakes and splatters droplets of dissolved mud and murky water his way.

Eleven seems to be enjoying the bath a great deal, even when Harrington removes the plug to drain away the ruined water and reaches for the showerhead to blast away the final stubborn patches of muck. She even leans into a particularly satisfying scratch with a great aura of contentment.

Before long, she’s clean enough for Harrington to deem suitable, and even Billy has to nod his approval at the immaculate state of her coat. It’ll save her a great deal of discomfort in the coming months.

Towelling off has Eleven excited again, darting around the bathroom space to avoid the towel. It’s only a game, though, and she does eventually get dried. If she had wanted to escape the rub down, she could have easily squeezed her way between Billy and the edge of the doorway and dashed away to safety—and Billy would have been right behind her!

In the end, she tires herself out with all the fun and the warmth from the bath water that soothed her cold bones from days in the winter chill. Harrington notices it only a minute or so after Billy, shooting her a fond smile.

The next room he leads them to is, apparently, his bedroom.

He places a layer of dry towels over the surface and allows Eleven to hop up and get comfortable. With her settled in for a nap, Billy allows himself to be ushered from the room. He won’t divulge her of a comfortable rest, God knows she needs it.

“Okay,” Steve huffs, evidently feeling the energy drain after dealing with an overactive pup. “Now you.”

That makes the fur on Billy’s back stand on end, entire body tensing. Sorry, him? Does Harrington really think Billy is going to let him anywhere near him?

Until now, Billy hasn’t even let Harrington come within six metres of them! And even with this strange truce they have going on, he doesn’t intend to suffer the vulnerability and the indignation of letting this teenager bathe him. Has Harrington forgotten that Billy is the one who has been sending him warning looks and cautionary growls all day?

Another growl rumbles with his distaste at the very thought but, before Billy can dart away, or bite, or anything else, Harrington’s hand clamps around the scruff at the back of his neck. Billy finds himself startled at the sheer audacity! This part-human thinks he can just pick him up and carry him around like an unruly dog?

He finally snaps back to his senses when Harrington tries to encourage him into the slippery tub. Not that this is something Billy has any intention of allowing to happen on his watch. With a great deal of kicking and growling, head butting back to collide with Harrington’s shoulder with as much force as he can manage, he tries to buck his way free.

It doesn’t work. Barely. Harrington manages to wrestle him into the tub, panting with exhaustion, and jolts into action when Billy tries to jump back out.

Effectively, he’s been trapped by this idiot. This idiot who invited two wolves into his lovely clean house like lovable stray dogs.

It’s not a good look for Billy. He’s just glad Eleven is asleep and not watching him be outsmarted by this nitwit.

The water around him is indulgently warm as it pours from the tap, filling the tub with it and frothing white bubbles. Given the state of him and what happened during Eleven’s bath he’s sure it’s not going to stay that way for long.

Harrington has lathered up some soap between his hands and is reaching for Billy before he even knows it’s happening. Billy had been so distracted by the indulgence of the water that he hadn’t even noticed Harrington moving. The sudden proximity startles him and, within an instant, he has Harrington’s forearm caught between his teeth.

“Gah!”

They both freeze, caught in the moment. Billy waits for Harrington to hit back as the other just stares at him, but Harrington doesn’t do anything.

Slowly, Billy releases his hold. There’s no taste of iron or flash of broken skin, but he can see the indents of his teeth on Harrington’s flesh. That’s enough to make him feel guilty.

When Harrington, cautiously, tries again to wash him, Billy just lets it happen. Sure, he grumbles through it, but there’s no more fighting it. Of course, he’d never admit it—because this is still humiliating!—but, to an extent, it’s… nice.

The water is warm and Harrington is gentle, not lingering anywhere that has Billy stiffening nervously. After a few minutes, Harrington seems to settle, losing himself in his task and rambling happily at Billy.

“There we go. No one would have known you had lighter patches before this.”

Billy huffs.

“Yeah, I get it. You’re nearly clean, stop whining.”

Insulted, Billy thumps his sudsy head against Harrington’s side, making the other grumble in annoyance.

“See if I do anything nice for you again.”

The plug is pulled and Billy shakes off the water, reasoning that the bathroom was already trashed by Eleven anyway, and Harrington clearly wouldn’t do anything about it.

“Dude.”

If a wolf could grin, Billy would be.

Harrington dries him off with another towel and, wow. Billy hasn’t felt this human in years; clean and free and in a normal, if posh, house… It almost makes him homesick, but otherwise it just feels nice.

“There we go…” Harrington soothes, and Billy actually settles.

It makes him nervous, somewhere in the back of his mind. Billy has had his guard raised non stop since… Fuck, probably since his mom left. And now, after the better part of a year being spent cold and alone, on high alert as if the people from Hawkins lab would just jump out of the shadows and drag them away to that place again, he’s just tired.

He’s so fucking tired, and Harrington’s house is warm, and he’s clean, and the guy feeds them, and for once Billy just wants to stop. He doesn’t want to look over his shoulder, worrying about when their next meal will be and getting piss poor sleep.

Fingers brush hesitantly through the fur on his back, and Billy lets it. Only for a moment but, god, is it nice. He knew Eleven was lonely but… he hadn’t realised how alone he’d felt. He thought he’d gotten used to it, but maybe he never had. Maybe that was just a comfortable lie.

He refuses to leave Harrington alone to do god only knows what behind their backs, though. He may be relaxed and lethargic, but he’s still a safe amount of paranoid. Eleven can rest up, but Billy only pointedly glares at Harrington when he tries to coax Billy to have a nap with her.

In the end, they settle in the Harringtons’ living room after Billy watches Harrington painstakingly scrub down the bathroom and the muddy trails he and Eleven made on their way in. Honestly, watching paint dry would have been just as interesting, but Billy, strangely, liked the company, muttered cursing included.

The Harringtons’ sofa is comfortable, almost too much so. As the young Harrington settled down with a book, Billy sat beside him. He felt a little weird about it—Neil had never let him or his mother on any of the furniture if they were shifted, and that is really the only example of home life Billy had ever had—but Harrington had been the one to invite him up onto the cushions so he just went with it.

It’s proving more and more difficult to stay awake, now. Warm and clean and full, resting on a comfortable sofa, Billy finds himself reluctantly laying down and fighting his eyes as they drift closed again and again. Each blink seems to last a century, becoming harder and harder to fight back open.

At least, until he finds himself waking with a start at the sound of the doorbell.

With a groan, Harrington pushes himself to his feet, moving to answer it. All of Billy’s fears come rushing back.

It could be anyone out there! He should never have let his guard down. What if Hawkins Lab had finally caught up to them? What if someone had seen Billy and Eleven sneaking around? What if Mr and Mrs Harrington have come back?

No matter what, any situation seems to spell doom for them, but Harrington is just up and walking over to the door like it’s nothing. What if it’s him? What if he took advantage of the time Billy fell asleep for? Maybe this has all been some sick ploy to sell them out.

Billy jumps up, darting over to stand in his way, a wary growl rumbling from his throat.

“It’s fine,” Harrington dismisses, walking past without a care.

Billy should fight him, do whatever it takes to stop him from opening the door. He should buy him and Eleven a little bit of time to run. But he just doesn’t have it in him. After everything, the idea of causing Harrington any more grief has his stomach churning in despair.

But he has to do something.

His hand clamps around Harrington’s wrist, holding him in place as he startles at the sudden contact. He turns around in a panic to face Billy, eyes darting downwards before resolutely focusing on his face, cheeks burning.

Billy, though, pays no mind to his state of undress. It doesn’t matter that this is the most vulnerable he’s been in years. He needs to get Harrington to listen, he wants to be able to trust him. It’s been so long since Billy has had a good thing.

Harrington is a good thing. He just wants to keep it, this one indulgence.

“Don’t. Please.”

The word hurts coming out. Pleading has never gotten Billy anything good, any sympathy.

“Holy shit!” Harrington shouts, stumbling a step backwards. “No way. No fucking way.”

“Please,” Billy repeats.

“I didn’t think— I mean some part of me— …shit, dude.”

“Please. Don’t.”

Harrington regains his breath, not even seeming to notice as the doorbell rings once, twice more. It’s followed by pounding and some kid yelling. Neither of them move, eyes locked seriously on each others’. Harrington flexes his hand, making the flesh in Billy’s grasp shift.

Billy’s eyes flash, it’s instinctive. Harrington feels like home, has done since the first time they came across each other, even if Billy didn’t let himself acknowledge it. Harrington’s shine their own unique shade of amber in return. They’re beautiful.

“It’s fine,” Harrington whispers to him. “It’s just the kids I babysit. My ex’s brother and his friends.”

His eyes dart towards the staircase.

“Is… is the other one like you?”

“Her name is Eleven, and yes. Don’t… I can’t let you do anything to put her in danger.”

“I won’t, I swear. Seriously.”

Billy nods, satisfied.

“But I have to let these guys in or they’ll break down the door.”

At that moment, someone presses down on the doorbell and doesn’t let up. It constantly chimes through the house, echoing through the empty halls.

“Fine.”

Billy lets go and Harrington takes a step away before hesitating.

“What’s your name?”

“Billy. What’s yours?”

“Steve.”

---

Next up in the race is the lovely @intothedysphoria so hang around to see what he's put together for us <3

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eleven hopper #harringrove relay race #fanfic #fanart

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