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chamomiletealeaf · 19 days

Note

Follow up of the Alone mission:

Ghost and Johnny fucking you in the truck

HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅🦅

This turned way way longer than intended but enjoy this straight up porn 🙏😭

Warnings: afab! fem reader, tiniest bit of angst at the beginning, pervy Simon and Johnny, tit play, nipple play, threesome, eiffel tower position, dacryphilia, creampie, oral f! receiving, oral m! receiving, spanking, face slapping

Tensions and adrenaline were high. You and Simon waited for Johnny at the church and finally escaped with him in some truck you found.

It was scary. When Johnny didn’t answer over comms you automatically assumed the worst. You and Simon looking at each other eyes wide waiting for his response. You began to panic, gripping Simon’s bicep in anticipation and you both let out the breaths you were holding in when you finally heard his voice.

He managed to make it out alive. He made it back to you two… alive… You were all soaking wet from the rain, but none of you even noticed given the circumstances.

And as you sat in the backseat, Johnny in the passenger seat, and Simon driving away to safety, you finally let your guard down a little bit.

You leaned forward in the middle console and placed a hand on Johnny’s cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone, tears of pure joy starting to fill your eyes.

“You ok lass?” Johnny asks as he takes your hand.

“Yeah. I’m just, happy you’re ok.” You say with a smile, taking in the moment that he’s real. He’s there with you. And he’s ok.

“Oh bonnie.” He laughs. “It’s gonna take much more than sneaking past a bunch of eejits to lose me.” He reassures you and you laugh.

After about 10 minutes into the drive or so, going god knows where, you all start to feel the weight of your wet clothes, as well as the coldness.

You notice how the soaking wet pants on Johnny and Simon cling to their thick cocks, giving you a perfect outline of just how big they are.

You shift in your seat, blushing, and try to avert your eyes.

Under your tac vest, which was getting pretty heavy from the water absorbed by it, so you take it off, was a white T-shirt that had nothing under it.

You weren’t wearing a bra since you didn’t expect to be thrown into an emergency mission and didn’t have time to do anything other than throw on your tac vest and other gear.

Your T- shirt, sopping wet, clings to your chest showing off your nipples that have hardened from the cold.

You don’t notice it at first, until you catch Simon looking at you through the rearview mirror making him swerve a little. He wasn’t looking at your eyes though. And that’s when you look down and see just how exposed you are.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself and cross your arms to hide them.

Simon clears his throat to ease the awkwardness between you two and announces that the truck is going to run out of gas.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” Simon says, and you and Johnny look at him.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Fuckin’ trucks nearly empty. Thank god we’re in a remote area. It’s safe enough to wait here until Price can meet us.” He states, and Johnny sighs.

There was nothing for miles where you were, and it was better to be stranded here than in another Shadow infested neighborhood. Base was still a long ways to go anyway.

Simon pulls the truck over onto a shoulder of the road by some bushes to keep the vehicle somewhat hidden.

“This should do for now.” And he contacts Price on comms letting him know where they are.

“Price is on his way with Laswell. Give or take an hour or so.” Simon says and you sit in silence for a moment.

“It’s fuckin’ cold as hell.” You say shivering, trying to find something to say to lighten the mood.

“Me fucking too. Think I might come back there with you lass. Body heat might do us good.” Johnny says with a smirk and winces trying to get over the center console into the back with you and you giggle.

Simon watches you two make light of the situation and how your arms are still crossed as Johnny playfully snuggles up into your side.

“Fuck might as well.” Simon mumbles as he gets out the truck and moves into the back with you two.

You’re now soaking wet, in the middle of nowhere at night, in a truck with two big, thick, beefy men who are also soaked to the bone.

To anyone else, this may seem like their worst nightmare. But to you? This was heaven.

“Aren’t you two gonna take those off? It’s probably making the cold worse.” You say, referring to all their soaking wet heavy gear still strapped to their bodies.

Simon just looks at you, really wondering if you really just asked him if he’s gonna take off his gear as if he’s not always on guard.

“You know lass, if you wanted us to take our clothes off you could’ve just asked nicely.” Johnny says with a smirk and you playfully push him with your arm, revealing your bare tits to him through your wet, white shirt.

Johnny notices and his face changes. He’s no longer playful and he looks at you, and then at Simon, who he can tell has a smirk on under his mask.

You notice the energy shift and their eye contact and you get confused.

“What?” You ask them, looking back and forth between them.

“You know, we’ve got a bit of time to kill.” Simon says to the both of you and Johnny smirks.

“Aye, we do. Good thing we have this pretty little thing to keep us company.” Johnny says back and grabs your chin so you look at him.

You squeeze your legs together and arch your back a bit as you feel your pussy throb and flood with warmth at the thought of what they’re implying.

Simon laughs darkly at your obvious aroused reaction and he runs a hand up your thigh while he leans in to your ear.

“What do you say love, wanna kill some time?” Simon whispers and you whimper, turning your head back to Simon, but Johnny catches your jaw in his grasp and directs your gaze back to him. It’s then Johnny’s turn to whisper to you as he leans in, hand still grasping your jaw as he brushes his lips against your ear.

“C’mon dollie, might as well, especially when those pretty little nipples of yours look so ready to be played with.” He whispers, the smirk returning to his face when he notices your gasp, then he moves to suck on your neck making you whine.

“Been starin’ at ‘em ever since she got in the car.” Simon says to Johnny.

“So that’s- wh- mm, why we almost crashed then.” You say breathlessly with a smirk, not wanting to seem like you submitted to them so easily.

Simon moves his hand from your thigh up to pinch your nipple making you squeal.

“Oi watch your mouth dovey, or else I’ll have to put it to better use.” He says and you moan.

“C’mon bonnie. Let us play with you hm?” Johnny asks against your neck.

“Mmph. Yeah. Yeah, please. Want you both.” You stutter out, and Johnny smiles against your skin, immediately grabbing your hips and turning you so your back is to Simon and you’re now facing him.

He grabs your legs and yanks off your cargos, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He then attacks your nipple with his mouth, sucking through the stretched out sopping wet T-shirt that’s now see through that’s attempting to cover you.

He brings his other hand to squeeze at your other breast and Simon repositions himself so your back is against his chest.

Simon then lifts his balaclava up just above his nose and places a hand under your jaw, making you tilt your head just enough so he can suck on your neck.

You moan loudly, trying to bite your lip to muffle it.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart. No one out here to hear you but us. Let us hear you.” Simon says, and you let out a loud gasp when Johnny lightly bites at your nipple through your shirt.

Johnny pulls away from your tits and brings his hands up to squeeze them together, making the fabric of your shirt bunch and water gather between your tits, eventually spilling down your chest.

“Fuck me. Look at these bonnie fuckin’ tits. Look so pretty peekin’ through this shirt of yours.” He says right before smushing his face between your tits, lapping at the water dripping down from between them.

Simon stops sucking your neck and grunts.

“Alright mate move, you’ve had your turn.” Simon says and pushes his head away from you with a gloved hand making him huff in protest.

Johnny complies like the good boy he is and moves back to your neck all the way up to your lips where he begins to sloppily make out with you as Simon massages your tits.

His gloved hands feel so nice and rough against your soft tits and he squeezes them, making you arch your back and whimper.

He tweaks your nipples through your shirt before gathering them and jiggling them, wanting to really feel just how heavy or light they are.

“Fuck you’re right Johnny. Such perfect tits.” He says.

Then, Johnny moves down between your legs, biting at your thighs while Simon brings his hand up to your mouth.

“Take it off.” Simon demands, and you bite the edge of his glove allowing him to free his hand from it.

“Good. Other one now.” He says, and you bite the other glove, freeing his other hand.

He tosses the gloves aside and squeezes your tits with his bare hands this time, really getting a chance to feel them.

He bucks his hips and groans involuntarily into your back at the feeling of your nipples and the softness of your skin, even through the t-shirt.

Simon leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Didn’t know you had all this hidin’ under that tac gear this whole time lovey fuck.”

And you squeeze your legs around Johnny’s head at his words.

Johnny moans and moves up to suck at your clit through your panties, soaked from the rain and from your arousal.

“Oh fuck Johnny. Yeah like that.” You moan, and he wraps his arms around your thighs keeping you in place.

But you buck your hips too much, pleasure from Simon groping your tits and whispering to you and Johnny pretty much eating you out through your panties was too much.

“Mm. Keep her still for me aye?” Johnny says, muffled by your pussy against him and Simon moves his hands to grip your hips so tight you know it’ll bruise.

“Yeahh that’s it.” Johnny says, and he moves your panties to the side before he attacks your clit with his tongue, and you try to arch your back but Simon holds you down in place.

Johnny tongue fucks you, shaking his head back and forth and up and down making sure he hits every spot inside and outside of you. Lewd slurping noises fill the truck as well as soft praises from Simon and your panting.

“You gonna cum on Johnny’s face? hm? He must be doing a good job from the way I can feel you tensing. Him acting like a fucking mutt finally did him some good yeah?” Simon teases both of you, which just makes Johnny want to get you off faster.

“Watch it L.T., or I’m not sharing.” Johnny says and Simon just scoffs back.

“Yeah ok Johnny.” He teases with a smirk.

Johnny then slides two fingers into you and finger fucks you at an unrelenting pace just to show Simon he can make you cum.

“Oh- J- Johnny fuck, slow down.” You squeal out, the feeling of him stretching you so quickly being so good.

Instead he curls his fingers, hitting that perfect spot and he begins sucking on your clit again.

You reach down to grab Johnny’s hair and reach back behind your head to grip onto Simon.

“That feel good bunny? You like having Johnny play with your sweet little pussy?” Simon asks, ghosting his lips over your neck and leaving butterfly kisses on your cheek bone.

“Yeah. F-feels so good. Fuck Johnny. I’m- oh my god I’m gonna squirt.”

“Do it lovey, make a mess on Johnny’s face.” Simon says, and Johnny hums in agreement with him, and that’s all it took.

Johnny pumps his fingers into you a few more times as well as a few more licks and sucks to your clit and your legs begin to shake around him.

Your eyes roll back and you let out a squeaky moan as you squirt all on Johnny’s fingers and face, one hand in his hair as you bite your thumb on your other.

Johnny moans as he feels you make a mess all over his face and Simon lets out a multitude of praises.

“Oh fuck that’s it. Yeah. Holy shit, such a perfect pretty little thing. That’s it, cum for Johnny.”

You pulse around Johnny’s fingers and on his tongue as you orgasm and you fall limp letting the aftershocks take over, making your pussy pulse less rhythmically.

“Fuck lass.” Johnny says breathlessly.

“Didn’t think you were a squirter.” He smirks at you and you playfully hit his shoulder.

“Sorry I- I didn’t mean to-” You try and apologize while you catch your breath.

“None of that. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Johnny reassures and Simon hums in agreement.

“Fuck yeah it was.” Simon says.

“Now on your knees dovey, we’re not done with you yet.” Simon says as he lifts you up by your hips to position you so your ass is pressed against his front, and your face is in front of Johnny’s fully hard cock nearly bursting through his pants.

The space in the back of the truck is tight, and you don’t have much room, but you didn’t mind, being smushed between two thick cocks and all.

Simon rips your panties down from your legs and gives your ass a spank, making you jolt forward, pressing your cheek into Johnny’s covered, hard cock which makes him hiss.

“Here mate, catch.” Simon says before he tosses your panties to Johnny, which he then stuffs in your mouth.

“Such a pretty wee thing she is aye L.T.?” Johnny asks Simon, rubbing his thumb over your open lips stuffed with your own soaked panties.

Simon rubs his hands up and down your back to your ass, giving it three hard smacks making you whine.

Simon laughs at your reaction then says,

“That she is. Such a perfect little fuck doll.” Simon says as he pulls his leaking cock out and smacks it against your ass.

“Fuck. Gonna be in your stomach love.” He says when he thrusts forward pushing his cock up your back to see how far inside you he’s going to be.

He then leans forward and whispers in your ear.

“Is this alright sweets?" He asks before doing anything else, and you press your ass back into him.

"Yes. Please." You whine, voice muffled from the panties in your mouth so you nod your head as well.

"Ooh such a good girl, sayin' please without even being asked." Simon states pleasantly.

Simon then lines himself up with you and slowly starts to stretch you out with his thick length, making the both of you moan.

You grip Johnny's thigh in front of you for leverage as Simon slowly starts to fuck you.

"Fuckkk love, such a tight little pussy. You're fuckin' perfect." He says as he grips your hips, beginning to go faster.

Soon, he's slamming into you from behind and pulling almost all the way out so you can feel every detail of his cock in you, rubbing against your walls perfectly. The damp skin from the rain making the clapping noises louder than normal and both men watch how the water makes your ass shiny.

He speeds up, thrusting you forward into Johnny and he grabs your chin so you look up at him.

You're whining and whimpering despite your panties shoved in your mouth, Simon's cock pounding your pussy just right and Johnny holds your chin in his fingers so he can watch you cry from pleasure.

"Aww look at that. Poor little lass can't take it. That cock feels too good hm? Look so pretty crying like that. Such a wee pretty thing." Johnny coos at you as he runs his thumb over your lips again spread apart from your panties stuffed between them.

Then, Johnny grabs your hair and smushes your face against his erection, cheek squishing against him harder pushing you forward each time Simon thrusts into you.

"Yeah feel that? You ready for my fat cock? See what you do to me lass?" Johnny says, rutting against your cheek and Simon delivers a few smacks to your ass and grunts each time you squeeze around him.

Johnny unbuttons his tac pants and pulls them down just enough to see his bulge through his boxers and he pulls your cheek against it by your hair as he continues to rut against you.

"Fuck lass, could cum just from that cute little face rubbin' against my cock like that." Johnny pants out, still holding your hair and you let out a muffled whine making both men laugh.

"Fuck listen to that little snatch take that cock. Such a greedy pussy." Simon says as you hear the lewd, wet plapping noises coming from your pussy every time Simon thrusts, his balls slapping your clit and his thighs hitting into the backs of yours.

"Fuck bunny you're drippin' all over me." Simon says exasperated.

Your eyes have been unfocused this whole time from the pleasure and Johnny takes your panties out of you mouth and throws it back to Simon, where he pockets it in his tac pants. Johnny then takes his cock out, and gives it a few strokes before tapping it against your lips.

"C'mon dollie, open up. Time to fill that pretty little mouth with somethin' better." He says with a smirk and you oblige.

You take Johnny in your mouth and your eyes roll back at his warmth and size, his weight against your tongue so much better than you could've ever imagined.

You moan around him and lazily suck him off, drifting away from Simon fucking you so good and Johnny's cock in your mouth.

"Ah-ah." Johnny lightly smacks your cheek a few times to get your attention back.

"Eyes on me. Wanna see you suck me off." He says and you moan, liking being slapped by him.

"Fuck Johnny do that to her again. Made her clench so fucking hard." Simon whimpers from behind you gripping onto your hips and leaning over you a bit.

"Yeah? You like getting slapped around?" Johnny asks as begins to thrust into your mouth making you gag, making both men moan from the sensation it gave them.

Johnny then starts to thrust into your mouth as ruthlessly as Simon is, abusing your soaking swollen cunt and your drooling mouth.

Johnny slaps your face again and you moan around him, clenching around Simon again as your eyes roll back.

"What a perfect little fuck toy. Letting me slap her around however I want. So fucking good." Johnny moans out.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum lovey. Let me fill this sweet little pussy up. Need to fill up this cute little cunt." Simon pants in your ear, now leaning his chest on your back, one hand holding him up and the other rubbing your clit.

Johnny face fucks you harder, one hand in your hair and the other squeezing your cheeks together as he fucks your face, using you as a fleshlight.

You cross your eyes and roll them back from the pleasure, letting out muffled "mm hms" encouraging the men to keep fucking you and also letting them know how close you are.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill this pretty little mouth of yours. You want that? Both of us to fill you up hm? Creampie you from both ends? C'mon do it. Cum for us and then you'll get it dollie." Johnny says and you do.

For the second time that night your pussy contracts harder than before making Simon whimper and it almost hurts how tight you're throbbing around him. You moan around Johnny's cock as he continues to face fuck you and Simon's hips start to stutter. You feel so euphoric you can barely hold yourself up as your whole body convulses with one of the best orgasms you've ever had.

"Fuck that's it. Milk me with that fucking cunt. I- mmph." Simon says before he's nuzzling his face in the side of your neck, death grip on your hips as he cums inside of you, his cheeks flushing pink from the release and pleasure.

It doesn't take too long for Johnny to cum in your mouth either, and he does so with a grunt and a moan as he spills into your mouth and over his hand, his cum leaking out of your mouth from your cheeks he has squeezed together making a mess over his fingers and your chin.

You all take a seconds to come back from your highs, and situate yourselves in a more comfortable position in the back seat.

"Fuck. That was.." Johnny says.

"Not long enough." Simon finishes his sentences with a smirk.

"You ok love?" Simon asks and you nod, still wiping your mouth.

"Yeah. I'm good." You smile all fucked out making them laugh at the state they've put you in.

They help you fix your shirt that isn't much of a shirt anymore and put your pants back on.

Just as you all get your clothes back on and situated, you see headlights coming towards you and realize it's Price and Laswell just in time.

And how you three are going to explain your wet panties sticking out of Simon's pocket, is a problem for later when you get back to base.

CREDIT TO @captainswhore FOR THIS DELICIOUS IDEA OF JOHNNY GOING FERAL OVER YOU IN A WET WHITE T-SHIRT RAHHHHH

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thesturniolos · 4 months

Text

guilty pleasures (part 1 )

m. sturniolo x reader

authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad 🤞

this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)

summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, he’s fantasising ;)

warnings: smut, swearing !!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldn’t have her, i’ve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and it’s agonising.

the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. “i wonder why you picked this one” i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.

she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that weren’t so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though she’s been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.

she didn’t think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, she’d never think that again. she’s better than any supermodel, the ‘prettiest of girls’ according to society weren’t a touch on her. plus, they didn’t come with her personality- she’s a real life angel and i’ve been blessed with even being in her presence.

i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i don’t care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s perfect.

she’s walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.

her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? it’s just a look, god.

“you got a towel?” there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasn’t high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?

╭┈┈┈┈╮

“matt” she prods at my arm, waking me up.

“wassup” she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.

“i’ve got a secret” i frown now, it’s 3am goddamn.

“what’s that”

“you promise you won’t tell anyone?” those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and i’ll have an accident.

“i promise” she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.

“i had a dream about you the other day” now i’ve piped up. i don’t care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, i’m wide awake.

“oh yeah? good or bad?”

“depends”

“what’d you mean, depends?” once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.

“well, it depends how you take it.”

“go on.” i’m begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, it’s killing me.

“well, we were doing something,” she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. “something best friends don’t do.”

“like what?”

“fucking.”

╰┈┈┈┈╯

held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didn’t feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams i’ve had ‘bout her, we’re even.

but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.

“yeah, it’s just there.” i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldn’t take my eyes off..

“hello? matt?” she swipes her hand in front of my face and i’m so utterly embarrassed, knowing i’d been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?

“i- uh- i’m sorry! i wasn’t-“ she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because i’m about to cum in my pants.

“i take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?” she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.

i’ve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but it’s more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or i’m gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when she’s close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, i’m careless.

if she’s going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then i’m gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.

praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.

“you okay, matt?” shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.

“mhm, i- um, just need to do something.” i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.

“oh? why’d you look so flustered?” she says with a smug, little smile.

“no reason. i just- i just need a second.” i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.

“need my help?”

tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad

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ineffableigh · 5 months

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Wait what the hell is Aziraphale mouthing here. Lip-readers sound off!!

This is RIGHT before "The Metatron! I don't think he's as bad a fellow - well I think I might have misjudged him."

His line was: "I, um... [mouthing something]" THEN the above line.

This can't be nothing. Can it? "We need to get out"??? Not sure. EDIT: I agree with @maximumpenguinpuppy here, I think he's saying

"WE NEED HELP."

Further deep dive on the most painful conversation I've ever seen:

Azi makes the most INTENSE EYE CONTACT I'VE EVER SEEN during "I think I might have misjudged him."

"PLEASE HEAR WHAT I AM SAYING TO YOU RIGHT NOW."

After a few intercuts with the flashbacks we get to the really painful bit.

"He said that I could appoint you... to be an angel." His voice is so strained and high pitched even for him, here.

"Like the old times, only even NICER!"

The super nice old times where you couldn't be together at all, eh?

Crowley starts his confession and we get the "What the blazes is he doing?" face as he starts to realize Crowley is NOT picking up on any of this. Azi's breathing heavily here, revealing how very stressed the fuck out he is.

After this point is when things get really hard to interpret. Aziraphale sounds so genuine about "Come with me!" and "We can make a difference, I'll run it and you'll be my second in command." It feels like Crowley starting his very real confession broke through the charade of 'The Metatron knows something and we're in fucking danger'.

He blathers about Angels and Doing Good before breaking again, letting the "I need you!" slip. We get this HALF A SECOND look of the most profound sadness right before the "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"You idiot. We could have been us."

Azi looks like he can't believe just how badly this went. This is right before he looks away.

OH NO NOW I'VE SEEN CROWLEY'S FACE RIGHT WHEN HE STARTS TO GO OVER FOR THE KISS AH MY FEELS

Azi is not hiding his emotions well, right before the grab:

Then of course we get the I Forgive You, which sounds like his most bitter one yet. A flash of anger and resentment, frustration, immediately followed by remorse and grief.

Having seen all that, my best guess now is:

Metatron made the (barely) veiled De Facto Partnership threats, implying he knows about the body swap and, implicitly, threatening Crowley with Holy Water, at least to some extent.

Aziraphale tries his damnedest to communicate to Crowley that Something is Fucking Wrong and they Have to Go to Heaven to Fix It.

Crowley, having been primed by the various chats with Nina and then the 2v1 chat with Nina and Maggie RIGHT before this, clearly timed by the Metatron, fully misses all of this and takes it all at face value.

Crowley starts to give his confession and Aziraphale realizes what he's trying to say, tries to adjust his Heaven Pitch to hinge on staying together as a team to fix things."

"You cannot leave this bookshop." "Nothing lasts forever." Azi has chosen the worst way to make another attempt at saying he has no choice but to leave the bookshop. I don't think this is about the Second Coming, given his reaction to the info later.

Everything deteriorates from there as Aziraphale tries again to imply something is Fucking Wrong by going back to the "Angels! Doing good!" shtick, but it's too late. It's always too late.

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." He doesn't but Azi is also communicating it very badly, likely because the Metatron is indeed watching.

Crowley thinks this is all real so he gives his No Nightingales line, etc etc. Aziraphale can tell there's no fixing this, gives up.

Crowley swoops in with The Kiss as a last ditch effort to get Azi to listen. Azi WAS listening, but cannot respond other than in anger and frustration that Crowley, in his view, refuses to listen to him again, has called him an idiot again. This happens multiple times throughout the show so there's history to fuel that assumption.

This is the precise outcome the Metatron was vying for, to split them up and emotionally/psychologically weaken them, to ensure there was no chance of a united front as there was for Armageddidn't.

My heart hurts, ow.

#aziraphale #crowley #the metatron #ineffable divorce #ineffable husbands #good omens meta

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!

#steddie #eddie & wayne #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #I write wayne once a year so here's my annual allotted amount I guess #listen you know I love hurt/comfort and I love happy endings but one thing you should never expect from me is consistent chapter lengths #things happen as they happen!

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mydemimonde · 4 months

Text

'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!

Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.

Words: 4490

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)

You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.

The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.

“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.

“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.

“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.

You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.

“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.

“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.

“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.

“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.

You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.

“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened.

“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.

“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.

Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.

Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”

“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.

Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.

“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.

You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.

One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.

“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.

That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.

But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.

He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.

You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.

Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.

“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”

Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Silly old me?

“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.

“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.

“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.

“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.

Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.

“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”

“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”

“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.

“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.

9:15 AM.

You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.

As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.

“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.

“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.

“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.

“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.

Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.

Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.

You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”

“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.

However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.

Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”

“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”

Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.

“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.

He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.

“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.

Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”

You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.

You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.

3:40 PM.

You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.

You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.

“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.

You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.

“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.

Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”

“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.

“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.

Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.

He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”

You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.

“No. You’re just wasting my time.”

“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.

“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.”

You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”

Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”

There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.

Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.

You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.

You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”

“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.

“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”

Michael gulps. “W-what?”

“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.

Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.

“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.

“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.

“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.

You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.

The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.

His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?

You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.

“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.

“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.

Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.

“Did-did I hurt you?”

“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.

He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.

“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”

“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”

“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”

You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.

let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn movie #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

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baldysgate · 8 months

Text

A Day Hotter than the Hells

Halsin/ Fem!Tav NSFW || ACT III SPOILERS || NON-DECRIPT TAV || PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP || HALSIN POV ||

WARNINGS: Slight predator/prey, NSFW, Cunnilingus (fem recieving), Forest Sex, Unsafe sex, alcohol mentions, slight astarion/halsin/tav mention:

It’s a day as hot as the hells in Faerun. Half the camp is down to their underwear, poor Karlach is suffering the worst. Unsurprisingly , Astarion seems unphased. Shadowheart and Wyll are nowhere to be seen, likely resting in their tents from the sun. Gale is busy casting spells in an attempt to keep himself cooled. Though the heat is daunting, the threat of the netherbrain still looms over the camps mind, so it isn’t a surprise to Halsin when she calls out for him, Astarion and Karlach to head out. And so, off to the town he goes.

After a few hours of adventuring and not much headway Halsin sighs as he wipes the sweat beading at his brow. It felt like he was being cooked alive and he was one of the lucky ones, being as he was in his druidic armor that gave plenty of room to breathe. He could only imagine how her and Karlach could manage in this high sun. Making their way back on the harsh cobblestoned path through the lower city after a long day, she stops. Halsin trails his eyes towards where their leader's head was turned, a shop with a long flowing dress in the window, god rays casting across the sage colored garment. He smiles to himself.

She is drawn to it and he can see it in her eyes- she wants it. It’s light fabric, perfect for a day as hot as this. Without a word she disappears into the shop and is out before he can think to look anywhere else, green fabric being stuffed into her pack.

“That’s quite sheer, darling.” Astarion says, though there’s no bite to his words, just a purr in his voice.

“And quite a good color on you.” Halsin adds, his voice rolling low and a smirk on his lips. It was his color, the camp had teased that it was. She knew it too, smiling at them both once the dress was safely packed away.

Karlach chuckles at both his and Astarions teasing, “Come on, back to camp. It’s too godsdamned hot out here.”

The walk feels like a desert, but he breathes a sigh of relief as the unnatural surroundings slowly give way to more and more nature, then finally, the familiar clearing where camp was set.Wordlessly they disperse, all dying to remove their heavy armor and into something much more revealing and comfortable. Halsin catches sight of Karlach stripping each piece of armor and heading for a pond and jumping straight in, the water around her bubbling as she sighs loudly. Astarion is quite composed and a lot less rushed, disappearing into his tent after grabbing his book from where it lay on a small table. Halsin passes her tent, there’s a clamoring of armor and he chuckles at the grunts she makes as she is undoubtedly shirking off her armor in a frenzy. He’s impatient to do the same.

Unlike the others, he is not so worried of who sees. It is only natural to be bare surrounded by nature to him and so off comes the top of his armor without much of a fuss. Gauntlets came next, which he plopped into the chest by his tent. Then shoes and the bark that tied around his calves. With a sigh he stretches his arm, reveling in the feeling of the barely there breeze that caresses his exposed torso. He said a small prayer to Silvanus, hoping tomorrow would bring kinder weather.

He hears a ruffle of tent flaps and sees her and it feels the air has been knocked out of his lungs. Oak father, grant him strength! He often preferred her without the social binds of clothing but this, this he would be more than glad to gaze at for hours. The dress is long, but shapely. Every curve suits her perfectly and leaves nothing to imagination. The slits on the side leave her legs bare and teasing, rising almost to her waist before coming together and hiding the stomach he adored pressing soft kisses against. His eyes followed upward to the way her chest pressed against the crest of the dress, almost threatening to spill over. He could see how her budding nipples pressed against the thin cloth as the wind blew and Halsin had to stretch his neck to push down the near growl in his voice.

She turned to him now with a smile pressed against her lips, striding over to him before planting her hands on her hips, “Glad to be back?” She asked.

Halsin smiles down at her, now able to admire her closer, “Quite glad.” He breathes out, though his tone came out far lower than usual. Quick as ever she seemed to notice the change in his tone, dropping an arm and taking one step closer, “Do you.. Like it?” she gives him that sly smile, like she always did when she already knew the answer.

He chuckled, pressing his fingers against the seam of the dress, running his hand down the warmed skin of her upper thigh, “You could put all the goddesses to shame, my heart.”.

“Oh, really?” She said, low and sultry, nearing closer so that her chest pressed against his abdomen, instinctively his arm wrapped around her waist “ Be careful, you may anger one or two with a compliment like that.”

“Then it would be a most glorious last sight. Though I would weep to think I may never lay my eyes on your beauty again, my love.” He drew her in, pressing a hungry kiss against her soft lips.

The heat be damned, the way her arms wrapped around his shoulders had a much different heat in his gut as the kiss grew hungrier. Silvanus help him, he was enamored with every part of her, a mere touch felt as if it could bring him to his knees. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and head for the forest to find a way to quell this feeling for just a moment, though maybe once would not be enough to keep him sated. Her little jump as his hand graced her backside had him chuckling into the kiss, her hand tugging at his shoulder length hair forces a groan from his lips. It's all too soon when she withdraws from him, cutting the moment short for his liking.. but if Halsin knew anything, it was patience.

“I see you certainly approve of the new outfit.” She said coyly, withdrawing herself from him fully and smoothing the creases of the dress in question.

“An understatement, surely. I did not think clothing could compare to the bare form that nature has blessed you with…but it looks like I may have to make an exception.” he smiled, but there was heat in his gaze even still, "Perhaps later I could show you just how wrong I was."

She gives him a look not unlike a fox as she leans up closer to his ear, "I would love nothing more." it takes everything in him to stop from throwing her over his shoulder right then and there.

"Then I look forward to it." He hums low.

"My my, and here I thought I may miss the druids reaction." The familiar lilt of Astarions voice draws both their attention to him, "not that I mind, of course. I am more than happy to watch." He smiles so wide his fangs show.

"You are more than welcome to watch or even join in if you'd like." She says it before he can and there's a part of him that hopes the vampire would agree. But Astarion scoffs with his head held high, "And watch your animalistic fucking in the woods? No thank you, darling." He pauses as if turning the idea over in his head, "Besides, you know I hate dirt."

"Oh come now, surely you would not let a bit of soil ruin your own pleasure, Astarion?" Halsin chuckles with humor in his voice.

"I guess there's no accounting for taste with you, is there, Halsin?" Astarion sighs out, "You two have your fun, far be it from me to judge.. but I will anyway." He laughs.

"Spoiled sport. I guess you'll miss out on all the fun." She gives Halsin a squeeze on his bicep, a small promise for later before she sets off after Karlach who is still stretched out on the rocks in the pond.

The late afternoon seems to drag on forever and so does the heat. Halsin tries to busy himself, conversing with Wyll who had taken to sitting near a river with his feet in the water just a ways away from camp. Even in their discussions it was hard to pull himself from that memory of her.

The sun began to set and Gale had been adamant to start the fire with his magic, flourishing with a show- as he did with most things. Halsin sat with his back against a fallen log, picking through camp supplies ready to be tossed amongst the fire. He was impatient for his time with her but could not deny the rumbling of his stomach. Now that the heat no longer punished them he could not help but feel famished. She came to rest besides him, having made her rounds of the camp for tonight. Undoubtedly she knew he would keep her more than preoccupied for the remainder of it.

Their leader took the camping supplies and threw them on the ironcast pan as soon as the fire was ready. He watched her wordlessly, the way she still wanted to take care of her companions when she had already done so much. It made his heart sing. And yet he knew she was exhausted, only fueled by the terror of their cranial stowaway. He ran a large hand between her shoulder blades as if to sooth the thought from both their minds, a barely there motion of circles had her leaning back against him as they waited for dinner to cook.

Gale had been regaling his time in Netheril for anyone who would listen. Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach and Astarion had popped open a bottle of wine and emptied its contents into their chalices. Lae'zel plucked a piece of food far too early from the pan with a dagger and bit into it. But that was typical for her, Halsin had grown to expect. As a bear he'd often do the same but as an elf he would not turn up his nose to some well cooked spices. For a former archdruid this is not where he had expected to end up but now it was hard to imagine being anywhere else. He had grown to enjoy each of their companionship.

His lover traced soft lines into his hand, the druid feeling a shiver run down his spine. He had had many lovers in his time but few made him feel as heard and truly himself as her. How could one not be drawn to such inner beauty? Halsin was pulled from his thoughts when a bowl was pushed towards him, his lover smiling, clearly recognizing he had let his mind wander. He thanked her, taking the plate and taking a bite from the steak. He was quick, first to finish and even grabbing seconds. It's why he always made sure to collect more than an ample supply.

At last full, the others opened another bottle of wine joining in as chatter grew louder accompanied by laughter, the drink finally starting to settle into their tired bones. He suspected with the heat and the wine, it would take very little to addle their minds. Halsin could not savor in the moment, far too preoccupied now that neither heat nor hunger kept his mind elsewhere. Sensing this she looked up to him, nodding her head towards a darkened path that led from camp, "Give me a few moments, then come find me.. if you can. I want to see if the famed Druid Halsin is as great a hunter as they say." she was up so quickly he hadn't even had the time to reply.

Halsin's body felt alight as if every nerve was set on fire, the promise of this little hunt had been a most delightful surprise. His mind was buzzing with anticipation. Perhaps he gave her more time than he should and as he stood the others seemed to cheer him on. It was no secret where he was going and for what, nor did either of them ever try to hide it. He would've even chuckled at their cheering if he hadn't been so enraptured by the chase.

As he broke through the treeline the druid broke into a sprint, his senses heightened by the thrill. Wildshape was something he could do without, at least for now. Her scent still wafted in the air, standing out from the smell of soil and decaying leaves. Sweet, like honey. He stood still long enough to hear the snapping of branches to turn and run in where the noises were loudest. It hadn't been long when he caught the first flitter of that familiar dress, the moonlight that peaked through dense treetops made it too easy. He gave chase, hearing the pace quicken as she must've heard him too. Adrenaline pumping he could feel his eyes glowing with a familiar golden hue, threatening to force him into his ursine shape. No, he wanted to hold back , wanted to capture her as he was now. A clearing opened up, not unlike their first night together- seeing her run down to the lone tree that stood just at the edge of the water. He picked up the pace, quickly catching up so close he could almost touch her.

She stops, only to drop against the forest floor, her back against the lush grass. He halted, just fast enough that he didn't topple over her, but it did not stop him from nearly pouncing on her. He drew her hands upward in his, both his legs trapping her own. "It is unlike prey to merely surrender when in chase." He breathes heavily, watching her own chest heave from the exertion. Again he sees how her nipples press against the fabric, beckoning him to rip away the article of clothing. He resists the impulsive thought.

"Maybe I wanted to be caught." She smiles, her skin kissed by the soft blue glow of moonlight. She is breathtaking to him.

He descends, letting go of her hands so that he may touch everywhere he can as his lips press against hers. Halsin moves his leg to nudge between her thighs, which she happily parts for. It's euphoric, his tongue dipping into her mouth to taste every bit of her as she moans against him. He gives his own groan deep in his chest as she threads her fingers through his hair much like she did earlier and tugs lightly. His hands drift downwards, continuing to kiss her with everything he has, his thumbs finding the slits of the dress before his hand finds its way to that familiar patch of curls. Her body tenses only for a moment, her breath heavy as he realizes she hadn't even been wearing anything underneath.

"My heart…" He rumbles low, like faraway thunder, "nature pales in comparison to you."

"My love," She pleads back, "let me feel you. I have been waiting for far too long."

"Then you shall have me." He pressed another passionate kiss to her lips before peppering chaste kisses to her cheeks and then the warmed skin of her neck. She moans and his hand travels further still, his thumb tracing over her labia to feel her need coat his thumb. It makes him groan, feeling how ready she is for him. Halsin's kisses travel even farther still, taking his time to turn his attention on her covered nipple, then the other, all while his hand continues to circle her clit. The sounds he pulls from her are high and sweet like music, sounds he could not get enough of. She's begging as he continues soft circles, not enough to send her over the edge just yet, but enough to make her legs shake.

"Halsin, please." She says so softly he can barely hear it through her heavy breaths.

His lips have found their way lower, fingers now leaving her clit to push the offending fabric away. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, a soft whine when his fingers leave but let's out a cry when his mouth is there instead. The flat of his tongue swipes upwards before he truly sets in on his work, his tongue delving into her entrance makes her dig nails into his hair as he pulls her leg over his shoulder for better purchase, trapping her thigh with his arm. She is crying out his name with each swipe of his tongue and he can tell she is not far now. He hums and the feeling reverberates through her, pressing her upper back into the ground in attempts to arch her back in his strong grasp. With one arm hooked around the underside of her bent knee and the other pressing against her stomach it is hard for her to escape his hold. She tastes divine, the druid pulling sounds from her with each lick and suck. He could stay here forever, devoting his mouth to her pleasure until the sun rose again. But admittedly even he was growing impatient to finally feel all of her again.

The hand at her stomach ventured downwards trapping her other leg in the bend of his arm and aiding his tongue as he rubbed circles against her clit. Her sounds grew shrill, no longer words, just a desperate cry for release. And who was he to deny her? Now with vigor his mouth and fingers doubled their efforts , her hips canting to meet his mouth before she came with a shout, heel digging into his back and arching her own before falling back into the grass. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths ,too blissed out to see how Halsin kept his eyes on her face through it all. He gave another testing swipe of his tongue and her hips stuttered, her voice begging for a short reprieve.

Halsin withdrew reluctantly, finding his way so that their eyes met again as he was careful not to put his large weight on her. He drew some of her hair away from her face, stuck to her brow from the heat as she gave him a lazy smile. Silvanus, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever been lucky enough to set eyes on. Chest rising and falling with eyes lit by the stars. He leaned down to kiss her, still hungry for her, but just as softly as she deserved.

“Okay, “ she said between the kisses, “Let me up.” her breath finally started to calm.

Quirking his brow he cocks his head slightly, “You’re.. Done?” there is a measure of reluctance in his voice, almost ready to ask if he had done something wrong when she smiles a sly smile. So he sits up, allowing her to stand up, and he follows. She’s already darting to the lone tree, a large willow with its dropping leaves that hung over with a heavy canopy swaying softly in the night air. She presses her back against the bark and beckons him closer with a crooked finger and it takes him only seconds to be upon her, resting his hand above her head as he stands over her. “Hardly, as if I could ever be done with you.” She whispers and he knows it’s the truth. The dam breaks and Halsin kisses her as if he hadn’t in centuries holding her against the trunk of the great willow, doing his best not to press his body too roughly against her smaller one. Her hands grab for the tassels that hold his pants together and he cannot help but moan into her mouth as she cups his hard length through the leather. Godsdamned constricting clothing!

With a grunt he pulls back, face twisting in conflict for the brief moment he had to part from her before yanking the pants from his hips, nearly tearing it in his need and stepping out. It is mere seconds but it feels far too long as he returns to her, pulling the long front of the dress to the side and letting out a low growl into her mouth as he feels her cunt rub against the length of him. Halsin stretches his neck, eyes an amber glow once again as he bares his teeth. “You intoxicate me.” He rumbles as he pulls her thigh to wrap around his waist with little effort.

“And you, I.” Her breathing is light and airy as he feels her tease against him, still feeling her warmth and wetness rub against the underside of his cock. He feels almost lightheaded and then the chord of his patience snaps. He lines himself up and pulls her into him as gently as he can in this state. “H-halsin!” She whines with a desperate warble that makes his back arch, pushing deeper into her.

“My heart,” he sighs, feeling how she stretches around him as his arms brace her hips, “You are nature’s greatest gift.. as if sent to me, meant to take me..” He groans as he finally seats himself all the way inside her and he can feel the way her breath shakes at every sensation.

“Then take me.” She whines, pulling him in to kiss, “You are driving me mad, don’t hold back.”.

It is enough to have his hips pull back and rut hungrily back into her, forcing a silenced yelp from her as Halsin no longer holds back, pressing his nose against her neck as his hips fight with hers. Through the haze he registers she’s still wearing the dress and he curses to himself, wishing he had removed it earlier before the threat of ripping it to shreds didn’t become more and more prevalent in his mind. He pulls the straps at her arms down, not enough to tear. She loves the dress and his heart could not bear to ruin what little pleasure she was allowed. She deserved at the very least that much. She pulls her arms from the straps to hook them around his broad shoulders, and he can hear her panting in his ear. It’s enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, hands moving from her waist to the hem of her dress to pull the offending fabric down, exposing her bare breasts to him. Halsin's hands pluck and rub against her budding nipples, the whine leaving her lips like a song. Despite the night it is still hot, he feels the sweat roll down his brow, the wind that rushes past his body is cold from the perspiration at his back. It’s a welcomed feeling after the day and it renews him with strength. His hips are rough and punishing, he can feel she’s close and each thrust into her tightness has him wanting more. The sounds, her scent that only grows stronger with the heat and their joining, driving him to near madness. The druid braces his free hand behind her back, hoping to alleviate the roughness of the bark against her from the tree.

“Hells.” She managed out, pressing her head against the trunk “I’m close, my love.” she warns.

“As am I.” he breathes against her throat, “Let me feel all of you, my heart. Do not hold a single one of those beautiful sounds back from me.” At that his hips are even harsher, and he feels her body begin to shake, her leg at his hip squeezed against him as she let out a cry of pleasure, growing impossibly tight around his length. Absolute bliss glimmers in her eyes, and he gives one, two, then one last thrust and follows her into that wonderful afterglow. They both stand there, her body nearly limp against him, his weight pressing back is the only thing that keeps them held against the tree, neither of them moving as he runs a hand soothingly against her hair, only listening to one another's haggard breaths as they slowly come back to the world around them.

“I don’t think I could ever tire of this.” She says and he can feel how the culmination of their joining begins to spill from her on to him.

He smiles, his heart feels full to see her so relaxed in his arms, “The night is far from over, my love.”. She smiles, pulling him in to kiss him once more. Halsin can feel his need for her growing again even as he pulls himself away, missing the feeling of her already. She nearly falls over him as he moves, the druid reaching his arms out to catch her. She laughs, a sweet, soft tone like honey and he can’t help but to do the same. Regaining her balance she stands on shaky legs, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him down with her into the lush grass. She laughs as he is careful not to fall on top of her, laying with her eyes to the night sky. Halsin does the same.

It’s a comfortable silence before she points to the sky, making shapes from the stars. They spend time just relaxing and he finds her arm intertwined with his as he points out what looks like a bear.

“I am not surprised you would find a bear, my love.” She teases.

“Look,” he points, adamant on the ursine shape in the sky, “You cannot look at that and tell me it isn’t a bear.”

She laughs again, rolling on top of him with her hands placed on the planes of his chest, “If you spot a githyanki, let me know.”

His hands immediately moved to her hips, “I am suddenly far more preoccupied with more important things.” he hums as he soothingly moves his hands up and down , tracing her hips to her thighs.

“Oh, you are?” she says with a roll of her hips.

He groans, gripping her hips now. Oak father, preserve him. It was hard to think of little else with her near. Halsin pushes his calloused hands beneath the slits of her dress and began raising the dress upwards. She aids him, pulling the remainder of the dress up and over her body, tossing it into the grass, leaving nothing to his imagination. A soft hum leaves his lips, now able to run his hands where he pleased on her soft and supple body. “Though I enjoyed the dress, this is far more to my liking. Bare, as nature intended.” She leans down, kissing him again. A feeling he would not soon grow tired of. Kissing back the heat returned, feeling her hips move against his. Halsin lets out a deep sigh, arching his back so that his cock presses against her welcoming entrance. She rolls her hips back, leaning her face up towards the sky as his name spills from her lips. He returns in kind, repeating hers in a soft tone into the night air. It was enough for the anticipation to be too much, as she lined herself up with him and slowly dropped down. He winced, she was somehow tighter and hotter, a sensation of hot wax runs down his spine. Halsin raised his hips, meeting her own in a slow rhythm.

She was marvelous, sitting above him and worshiping his body. Nature had truly outdone itself with her, the soft moonlight illuminating her . He reached up with one hand, cupping her breast, then the other with his other hand, watching as her body responded to his gentle caresses. He pulled at one of her nipples and she arched her back into the touch, dropping her hips down against his. “To be blessed with such a sight, it is more than I deserve.” Halsin sighs, drawing her eyes down to him, “Without you I would still be archdruid, still chasing after the shadowcurse to right wrongs from over a century ago. From the moment I met you I knew we were intertwined, my heart.” Her hips keep moving, but slow only slightly, “Halsin, without you I would’ve gone crazy long ago. You, my one sage council, who I can always look for when I need help. Like a tree rooted in deep soil, I can always look to you. That is more than I could have ever asked for.”

“You have my heart, my love.” She says finally.

“And you have my love, my heart.” He returns.

She leans down, kissing his lips in a neediness he often doesn’t see in her. He returns in kind, feeling her tongue slip into his mouth and he can’t help but push against her as she starts to pick up the pace of her hips, wanting this moment to feel like eternity. She pushes his shoulders, forcing him back into soft grass and he can't help the chuckle that leaves him. But her dominance makes him groan, raising his hips harder as her thrusts come down to meet his. She bounces now, and he is transfixed with how her body moves, his hands at her calves, drawing soft circles with his thumbs.

“F-fuck” she whimpers arching backwards, her hands on his knees and rising up just to fall back on his cock.

If he could ask for anything it would be to live within this moment forever, to feel this pleasure, to know her body in this way from here until the Old Father took him from this world. The memory of her rising and falling against him would be etched into his brain for years to come. Her name left his lips once again, feeling the rising of his pleasure like the waves that crashed amongst banks of sand. As her hips canted he braced against her own, desperate for the inevitable end. Sensing this she sped up, her nails digging into his chest which only further heightened the pleasure that coursed through Halsin’s body. With a low and rumbled groan he came, his head hitting the soft ground as he spilled his pleasure into her. She followed soon after, a keening groan leaving her beautiful lips, pressing her body fully against his with a sigh escaping her lips. She kissed the half crescents she had left in the muscles of his chest, forcing another sigh to leave the druids lips. She lay atop of him, spent and utterly bear both physically and emotionally and he did his best to aid her, a strong hand running up and down her spine.

They lay there in silence, only listening to their heartbeat and labored breath. “We must return soon, my love.” Halsin whispered against her hair, though he did not want to leave their little oasis he knew dawn would come and once again the threat of the Netherbrain would be at the forefront of their minds..

“Let’s sleep amongst nature tonight. We can return to saving the world in the morning.” she sighed, moving so that she lay in the crook of his arm, spent and satisfied.

“In the morning, then.” he said against her, his arm bringing her in so she rested close. Halsin could not argue, to be amongst her and nature is all he ever needed.

The morning rays stir him awake first. How long they had stayed up enjoying one another, he was not sure. But what a night it had been, fully embracing their desires. He stood up, stretching and smelling the earthy wilderness around him, if only it had not been eclipsed by the rising towers of the town just a ways away. The water glistened in the early rays, fog still resting against its surface. Enticing enough to take a dip and from the way he felt, and surely she did as well, it was probably for the best. “My heart.” he roused her slowly, smiling in the way she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “Let us enjoy the waters before returning.”

“Yes” she sighed with sleep still heavy in her voice, “that sounds delightful.”

They spent far too long enjoying the cleansing waters, both redressing reluctantly and returning to camp. Wine bottles littered a ring around the campfire, the camp still asleep as they walked through. It seems their companions had found their own fun in their absence. It was quite the night to be had by all.

#halsin smut #bg3 halsin #bg3 spoilers #halsin x tav #fem!tav x halsin #implied astarion/halsin/tav #bg3 smut #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #halsin #halsin pov

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steddiealltheway · 9 months

Text

Steve doesn’t know how exactly Robin was able to convince him to be her plus one to her ten year high school reunion. The previous year, he had ignored the invite and gone on with his life without regret, but something about Robin’s offer was tempting.

Maybe he wanted to see Nancy although she had escaped his mind for quite a few years now. He knows she married Jonathan, and they’re living happily ever after, so the idea of seeing them is a bit repulsive.

In all honesty, he just can’t say no to his best friend. Which is how he has ended up stranded in the renovated Hawkin’s High School gym, staring off at Robin who excitedly ran off to say hi to her old band friends.

Steve wanders to a table filled with different snack foods and drinks, snatching up a water bottle and unscrewing the lid. He’s in the middle of a sip when he hears, “Steve Harrington?”

He slowly turns around, trying not to groan. He knew someone would recognize him eventually.

He freezes up a bit when he realizes it’s Eddie Munson.

They had formed a weird sort of acquaintanceship back when Dustin was adamant that they meet. After growing up a bit and coming to terms with his bisexuality, Steve was quick to realize that he had had a bit of a crush on the boy. But since it took a few years, he was sure that anything with Eddie was just another missed opportunity.

Maybe he can change that.

He smiles and replies, “Eddie, why the hell are you here, man? I thought you’d never come back.”

“Free food,” Eddie replies, holding up a plate he’s piled high with food. “And what are you doing here? I thought you graduated a year earlier than me.”

“I’m here as Robin’s plus one.”

The smile on Eddie’s face falters a little bit as he looks down at his plate. “So, you two are um..”

“No!” Steve is quick to clarify. “Still best friends and everything between us is platonic with a capital p.”

Eddie’s face lights up a bit before his eyes flicker down to Steve left hand, taking in his ringless finger. “So, are you umm…” Eddie turns a bit red and clears his throat. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Steve tries not to smile too wide at the question. “No, are you?”

“No.”

The answer makes Steve’s heart beat a little faster. He looks Eddie up and down quickly, taking him in again, noting the way that aging seems to have only made him more attractive. “You look good,” he can’t help but say.

“You do too,” Eddie replies. “Still have that gravity defying hair of yours.”

“And you still have that curly mane. At least, I’m assuming that’s what’s tied up in this bun,” Steve says, tucking a loose curly strand behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie mumbles out, “Yeah,” almost as if he’s in disbelief about the whole thing.

And yeah, Steve’s not going to back down anymore. He places a hand on Eddie’s lower back and leads him off to a more secluded corner of the gym. “You know, looking back I think I had a bit of a crush on you,” Steve confesses.

Eddie’s eyes search his suspiciously, not believing what he’s said. Slowly, he relaxes and asks, “You’re not kidding?”

“Not at all,” Steve says with a shrug. “It took me a while to realize it, but there’s a reason I was so insistent about picking Dustin up from all his Hellfire things. At first, I thought it was just because I love the kid so much, but I didn’t have an excuse for why I waited even longer if you didn’t walk out with him.” He knows he’s laying it on heavy, but he’s not going to let this opportunity pass again.

Eddie puts his plate down on the floor and holds out his hand. Steve takes it quickly, letting Eddie pull him right out the gym doors and down the school hallways.

Steve laughs while asking, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere secluded!” Eddie replies, trying a doorknob to a class room, groaning when it’s locked.

Steve helps him, trying all the doors until one finally swings open. “Eddie!”

Eddie looks to him and practically runs inside the classroom, pulling Steve inside and shutting the door behind him, successfully trapping him against the door. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Tell me then.”

Eddie smiles. “From the moment I caught you making out in the bathroom with some girl, and I was forced to hide in the stall.”

Steve laughs loudly. “There’s no way!”

“You made me late to class and got me a detention! But the only thing I was mad about was that that girl wasn’t me.”

Steve trails his hands over Eddie’s chest, moving up his neck and into his hair. “Well, we can change that now.”

“Yes please,” Eddie says, leaning forward to meet Steve in the middle.

The kiss is sweet and filthy, taking him back to his teenage years. If only he had realized his feelings back then, he could’ve possibly done this sooner.

He hears the lock to the door click behind him, and Steve has never felt more onboard for a hookup. As they both make their way back to whatever teacher’s poor desk, Steve can’t help but wonder if this will be his only shot with Eddie. Something about it makes his heart ache a little.

But as Eddie breaks the kiss and easily lifts Steve onto the desk, he asks, “So, I was thinking we could possible get dinner after this if that’s okay with you?”

“More than okay,” Steve says, kissing him again before pulling away. “Just to be clear, you mean that as a date, right?”

“Yes,” Eddie says before tugging Steve’s tucked shirt out of his pants.

After that, Steve doesn’t really have any more coherent questions or thoughts.

Later, when he finds Robin, she gives him an unimpressed look while trying to suppress a smile. “So, you and Eddie had fun catching up.”

Steve smiles and agrees, glancing back at the door where Eddie walks into the gym shortly after him, hair now completely down and ruffled and shirt seemingly on backwards. He smiles at Steve and waves, completely blowing any cover that they’ve tried to make. But Steve doesn’t care as he waves Eddie over, hoping that he’ll remain as a permanent figure in his life.

For now, he thanks Robin for convincing him to come to her reunion.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things #robin buckley

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spicycinnabun · 1 month

Text

“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

#fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie au #roommate au #steddie fic #plant dad steve harrington #crack fic #christofern is their love fern #eddie won’t let it die #🪴

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g0niki · 2 months

Text

drink up ── y.jw

pairing: bf!jungwon x gf!reader

word count: 1.5k+

contents: finger sucking, oral (m! receiving), spit, pretty tame fic imo 🤷

a/n: won helps you stay hydrated lol (idek if this is a thing)😛

you had been a brat all day and jungwon couldn't stand it.

your nagging and bossing around was at an all-time high, the sudden switch in attitude and snappiness being something he couldn't excuse.

he had attempted to get to the root of the issue and talk through it, having a gentle approach and solving whatever the issue may be. you did not have the same in mind, rolling your eyes at him and walking away dismissively.

so of course, jungwon was annoyed!

you storm around the shared space with an almost visible thundercloud over your head. jungwon slumped down on the couch, his tongue poking his inner cheek, eyebrows pinched together as his eyes practically burn holes into you. now that he’s thinking about it, you pissed him off.

the frustration seeping off of the two of you was enough to create a suffocating concoction, both of you too stubborn to figure out a solution.

at this point, everything you were doing was making jungwon’s blood boil. he was gonna confront you.

he followed your smaller figure into the kitchen, determined to have you tell him what the hell was going on.

“what’s going on with you?” you turn towards him for a brief moment, rolling your eyes before walking over to the fridge and grabbing the last bottle of water.

jungwon grabs the cold bottle out of your hands and pushes you against the cool door, one hand near your head and the other loosely holding the bottle next to his side.

“jungwon give that back.”

“do you really think you deserve it?” slightly taken aback you raise a brow before scoffing and reaching for your water, jungwon swiftly moving his arm further from your reach. “I don't think you deserve it pretty. what makes you think i’d just give it to you when you can’t even listen?”

jungwon uses the hand by your head to come down and grab your left wrist firmly, pinning it up next to your head. his other hand lifting the cold bottle to your chin and using it to angle your face up. won leaning in close enough for your lips to slightly graze each other.

“beg for it.”

“… i’m not gonna do that”

won hand releasing your wrist and moving to squish your cheeks together, slightly screening your face side to side as a light tsk leaves his lips.

“aren't you thirsty? get on your knees and beg for it.” he released you from his grip, taking a small step back, giving you the chance to act.

the small, yet spine-chilling smile on his face is enough to have you slowly sinking, knees coming into contact with the cool floor beneath you.

“good girl, now open your mouth and wait.”

and you do exactly that, jaw hanging slack as you watch him slowly unscrew the cap of the bottle. the condensation on the bottle dripping down jungwon’s hand and wrist. the sight is enough to cause you to drool, which didn't go unnoticed by won.

tossing the bottle cap to the side, the small plastic coming into contact with the ground, but you were more focused on jungwon’s hand coming in contact with your bottom lip and swiping the drool from it. he placed his thumb in your mouth.

“come on, you know what to do. suck.” he watched as your lips close around his digit, cleaning your spit off of the pad of his thumb before he’s using that same thumb to yank your jaw back down.

“don’t wrap your lips around it.”

the opening of the bottle now resting against your bottom lip and he tilted up, flooding your mouth with the fresh liquid.

“take it all, just like that.”

you slightly sputter, overwhelmed by the amount being poured down your throat.

“isn’t this what you wanted.” jungwon’s face was now flat, the bottle being tilted up even more with each passing moment, too quickly for you to chug it down at one, your mouth was filled to the brim.

“the bottle’s empty, I guess you could close your mouth.” his eyes fall even darker, annoyed that you couldn't keep up. watching you struggle to gulp the remaining bit, still sitting helplessly on the floor at his disposal.

you finish the last bit, breathing heavily after completing the difficult task.

jungwon lightly taps your face a couple of times as your eyes try their best not to roll back.

won reaching for his belt and unbuckling it in a matter of seconds.

“maybe i need to fuck your throat open before we try again.”

his hand cups under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. your lashes fluttering up at him, practically begging him to carve a space in your throat with his dick.

a “tsk” sound leaving jungwon’s throat as he looks down on you. his head lolling back and a light airy laugh can be heard from him.

“tongue out, i thought you were thirsty?” immediately dropping your jaw down and letting the pink muscle hang down.

his thumb finding its spot in the middle of your tongue and pressing down firmly, eliciting an immediate reaction. won able to see how your throat tightens around nothing and imagine how well that would feel around his sensitive tip.

his dominant hand reaching down to grip his length and lift it to your mouth, replacing his thumb with his aching member.

“doesn’t that taste so good pretty? spit on it for me.”

won watches as you scramble to fix your positioning, trying your very best to prop yourself up in a way that will let your spit drip down nicely. a small amount slowly making its way to his hard length.

“i don’t think that’s nearly enough, does that seem like enough?”

you nod your head no frantically.

“that’s right, we need more.” you try your very best to build up the saliva, using it to coat his thick and throbbing head.

getting sloppier with each moment, the slippery liquid dripping down your chin and onto your chest. giving jungwon quite the view to take in.

he swears the amount of precum leaking out of his tip would be enough to refill your water bottle, and best believe he would make you sip every last drop. he takes in just how you suckle on the tip, repeatedly teasing it for a moment before pushing it out of your mouth and letting it rest against your lips as spit oozes out of your mouth. although he was enjoying it he just might snap if he didn’t have you gagging around him at a moment’s notice.

and so he makes you do exactly that, placing his hand on the back of your neck and pushing you down to swallow around him, enjoying the surprise in your eyes at the sudden intrusion. the gag leaving your throat and causing the grip around him to tighten enough to almost have him cum.

his thighs tense and his hips push up even more, your tongue gliding against the vein on the underside of his cock.

he watches as your thighs press together, a hand sliding down to help alleviate some of your pain.

the thought of your fingers swiping and your cunt is enough to have him roughly piston his hips back and forward into your mouth.

the way your eyes struggle to stay open and visibly cross and roll around turning him own way more than he would like to admit. the way he’s abusing your throat distracting you from properly getting yourself off.

he swears he sees a puddle forming under you, making a slippery mess on the flooring below.

“you’re gonna take everything i give you. be grateful that i can be so nice to you after all that attitude you’ve given me.”

won gripping the top of your hair and using it to tug you down, your nose touching his groin as his warm liquid fills the back of your throat.

his cum filling your senses and practically going up your nose, causing you to sputter around him.

“close your mouth and take it all.” and that’s exactly what you do. wrapping your lips around him firmly and doing your best not to waste a single drop. you hold yourself down for a moment, struggling to breathe yet determined to do a good job.

and when you are pulling off you keep your lips secure around him, pulling off and watching the mix of cum and spit connect your lips to his cock. using your pretty hand to scoop up the mixture and suck it off your fingers.

wordlessly leaning back in to get anything that you missed off of his dick. maintaining eye contact as you do.

your boyfriend taking it as a challenge and staring down at you even harder, his grip on your hair releasing and his hand coming down to cup the side of your face.

“you’re forgetting something,”

“i don’t think i am..” you challenge once more.

“hm, well then i don’t think you’ll mind not properly finishing?”

“…thank you wonnie.”

“you’re welcome pretty.”

ᯓ★

#g0niki #rey's messy mind #jungwon fic #jungwon smut #yang jungwon #yang jungwon smut #enha smut #enha oneshots #enha fics #enhypen fic #enha fic #enha drabble #enhypen drabbles #smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines

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vanteguccir · 2 months

Text

Let's trade shoes | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N feels pain in her feet from wearing high heels for hours, and Matt gives her his sneakers to wear.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

From an outsider's perspective, the dynamics of the relationship between Y/N and Matt were incredible and unique. The two had their hearts overflowing with love, and they were not ashamed to show it.

Nick joked that the five love languages were few compared to all the ways they loved each other.

But it was safe to say that out of the five, the one that was most part of their daily lives was the language of acts of service, precisely because of their busy schedules and daily tasks.

Matt would do absolutely anything to make his girlfriend's day easier, from turning on the coffee maker in the morning while she took her sacred morning shower, to combing and drying her hair after she washed it. He is always watching her from afar, making little mental notes of new things she does, so he learns and fits them into his routine so that he can help her in the future.

And Y/N isn't far behind, knowing how heavy the routine of recording three times a week can be - sometimes more, when the triplets need to catch up on some podcasts or car videos -, she always comes forward to help his day get lighter, from starting the car in the garage on cold days so the engine is ready when Matt gets in it, to helping him shower after a tiring day, washing his hair with his favorite shampoo while watching him nap in the warm water of the bathtub.

It was Thursday, and Matt and Y/N were leaving yet another weekly date night.

Matt and Y/N had created a habit almost a year back that, every Thursday after the triplets recorded the car video that would be posted the next day, they would have a date night, with the aim of always dedicating quality time together and cultivate a healthy relationship.

Y/N mentally cursed herself for her choice of shoes that night, having opted for high heels.

Don't get me wrong, the girl loved wearing heels and always felt prettier in them; Besides Matt, who was completely in love with the way his girlfriend's legs looked in heels, he said that they looked longer and more appealing, leaving him drooling and staring more than usual.

But if there's one thing they both knew, it was that when Y/N wore high heels for long hours, she always ended up with pain in her feet.

And that was exactly what was happening at that moment, the girl had been wearing those heels on her feet for about three hours and her toes were starting to hurt, squeezed by the front strap, while her heel screamed with every step she took.

It didn't take Matt long to notice her face contorted in pain and how she squeezed his hand - which was intertwined with her own - with every step they took.

The two were walking through the streets of the restaurant where they had dinner, observing the various restaurants and bars open, full of people of all types and music of all tastes, while chatting a bit about their day. This meant they were far from the car, and it would be at least a 10-minute walk to get back to it.

Therefore, Matt abruptly stopped in his tracks as they approached a wooden bench, followed by Y/N, who watched him with a confused expression.

"What is it, baby?" She asked worriedly, traveling her eyes down the street briefly, trying to find what could have made her boyfriend stop so suddenly.

Matt knelt on the sidewalk and removed his sneakers from both his feet, keeping his socks on.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?" The girl looked down at him, watching him with a frown.

"Sit here, baby. Please." Matt asked, standing up on his socks and pointing to the bench, taking Y/N's right hand and helping her sit down on the wooden surface. "Give me your foot." He kneeled on the ground, placing his sneakers near her feet and reaching his hands towards his girlfriend's right foot.

"What? Why?" She asked, eyes wide, feeling cimpletely lost, bending her body slightly forward so that she brought her face closer to his, a sound of pain escaping her lips from the movement.

"You're in pain, my love. Come on, give me your foot. I'll give you my sneakers." Matt explains, touching Y/N's right ankle and pulling lightly.

He raised his blue eyes, looking into his girl's eyes, staring at her so that she understood that he wasn't open for arguments.

Y/N sighed before resting her left hand on the cold and hard surface, lifting her right ankle so that her foot was off the ground. Matt unfastened the buckle on her high heel, leaving it on the sidewalk on his side before reaching for his right sneaker, fitting it onto Y/N's foot with ease.

He untied the shoelaces and tied them again so that they were firmer, knowing that they were bigger than Y/N's feet and could escape with her steps.

The girl kept her eyes on Matt the entire time, feeling her heart speed up more and more and her skin heat up, taking on a reddish tone. She didn't deserve him. He was so kind to her.

Matt carefully lowered the foot he was holding, waiting for her to steady it on the ground before taking her left ankle, doing the same process as before.

When Y/N had both feet inside Matt's white sneakers, the boy adjusted his posture, still crouched, so that he could fit his feet one at a time into the high heels, leaving them unbuckled due to the difference in size, knowing that if he closed it, he could ruin them.

Matt slowly stood up, regaining his balance on the pair of heels that he wasn't used to wearing before intertwining his left hand with Y/N's right, helping her stand up. He briefly adjusted the strap of the black sparkly purse on his left shoulder.

"I can't believe you're doing this." The girl commented as the two walked back to the car, a laugh escaping her throat as she shook her head, watching the wobbly steps her boyfriend took.

"I won't let my princess feel pain. And I didn't want to get dirt on my socks from this sidewalk. Our washing machine thanks us for that." Matt responded with a smile on his face, watching his girlfriend's reaction from the corner of his eye, keeping his focus on his steps in order not to fall.

"I love you, Matt." Y/N squeezed his hand lightly, massaging the soft skin with her thumb.

"I love you more, my love." The boy responded quickly, returning the squeeze.

He let go of his girlfriend's hand as they reached his car, opening the purse on his shoulder and looking for the key, before unlocking the doors, opening the passenger seat for his girlfriend.

Y/N smiled in gratitude, approaching Matt and sealing her lips over his cheek chilled by the cold of the night, stroking the soft skin with the tip of her nose before taking a step away, finally getting into the car.

She felt her heart warm with love while observing him walk around the front of the car with slow steps. She knew that there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do to make her happy and comfortable.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

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bookofthegear · 8 months

Text

You are carrying your Grandma’s good stabbin’ knife!

Family legend holds that Grandma acquired it the morning of her wedding day, when she entered the kitchen to discover the groom and the maid of honor on the table, doing something that did not involve plating canapés. The groom went for his pants, Grandma went for the knife, and the maid went all to pieces.

Once she had run them both out of the county, Grandma declared that she was still getting married that day, come hell or high water, whereupon the best man confessed that he had always worshipped her from afar and the day proceeded with only minor alterations. They were happily married for nearly forty years, until Grandpa’s death (not by stabbing.)

The knife served Grandma through two wars, one revolution, and a home invasion, and she gave it to you to take to college because “Child, you just never know.”

You also have a canteen, a blanket, and a deeply unreliable guidebook. And now, apparently, you also have a finch named Jimmy. He lands on your shoulder and trills excitedly to himself. {No, I’m not going to run a poll as to whether you take the finch. I know you people.}

The dark crack in the wall looms before you. With trepidation, you step inside, into a long concrete corridor holding an immense stone gear. It’s not turning. You’re not sure if it even can turn. The teeth don’t look right, and it has to weigh at least a ton.

The corridor runs east-to-west, and the concrete walls are covered in graffiti. You don’t even recognize the languages of half of them. There’s even a line up near the ceiling that looks like cuneiform, and you don’t think concrete had even been invented at that point. And of course, drawing a dick on things is timeless, and people have. Repeatedly.

One line in English reads “Harry Mountford was here!” and is dated nearly a hundred years ago. You could almost believe that the labyrinth had been untouched all that time, but some of the graffiti looks much fresher.

The floor is covered in dried leaves blown in from outside. Which is a little odd, now that you think of it, because you’re pretty sure they’re deciduous leaves and that’s a pine forest outside. That’s as much as you can say about the leaves, though. (Look, you really WANTED to take Botany for Adventurers, but it was opposite The Wombat of Shalott and Other Pre-Raphaelite Obsessions and c’mon. You’re not made of stone.)

Both directions lead into darkness. You can hear a very faint rhythmic squeaking coming from the west.

#book of the gear #ursula vernon #t kingfisher #choose your own adventure

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

Text

How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting.

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!”

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going.

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant.

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance.

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?”

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse.

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.”

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died.

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to.

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.”

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips.

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.”

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh.

“Lovely.”

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind.

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination.

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.”

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums.

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.”

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you.

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you.

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless.

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath.

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift.

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed.

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.”

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal.

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee.

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that.

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.”

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.”

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out.

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.”

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?”

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face.

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others.

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you.

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?”

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging.

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his.

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow.

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining.

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it.

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence.

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod.

“Sure. Same seats?”

The fireman smirks. “Always.”

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it.

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John.

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff.

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

“So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.”

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.”

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion.

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you.

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew.

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call.

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire?

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?”

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop.

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people.

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision.

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot.

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant.

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh.

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!”

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest.

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation.

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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forbidden-sin-bin · 7 months

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Sex and Filthy Smut headcanons

(Eminem x F!Reader Hc’s and drabbles)

Rated: E for explicit… no wait, this needs an X rating for possibly being the filthiest thing I’m gonna write in my life. God save my soul (probably not but hey at least I asked)

Warnings: I mean… look at the title. Need I say more??? Smut. Sex. Lovemaking, Intercourse. Whatever the hell you wanna call it. The whole 10 yards is here. It’s porn, not gonna lie at all.

Tags/Keywords: Smut, Heavy Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fluff, fluff and smut, Pre-established relationship, Sexual Content, Kink, Overstimulation, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Giving/Receiving, Healthy Relationships, Feel Good, Everything sinful under the sun is found here, Author is going to hell, anyone who reads this is coming with me

A/N: Yes yes, ain’t no fuckbuddies or friends with benefits headcanons here, sue me. There is NO angst or sadness here. None, zero, zilch. Those kinds of relationships almost NEVER end well 98% of the time. This is all about you and him ONLY. Give it up for romance y’all.

Not gonna lie, there might've been more I wanted to add to this hellfire list of headcanons but once you've seen how much stuff there is below I hope you'll forgive me for finally putting this out here.

I hope by reading this, will provide you with comfort and satisfaction.

VERY special thanks to @smutty-books for beta reading and feedback along with helping me with this monster of a list! Please check them out and show them some love! (Seriously thank you Smutty for the additional ideas and content. you made this Hc's list a million times better and twice as much content included.)

(WARNING: Past this point is VERY EXPLICIT CONTENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.)

General HC's:

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy ohhhhhh boy.

You want sum fuk? You got sum fuk and way more.

As long as you’re his s/o, congrats on your sex life being absolutely demolished and rebuilt by this man. You’ll probably never find a better person in the bedroom for the rest of your life. It literally doesn’t matter if he’s your boyfriend or your husband, sex is a staple activity in your relationship that you both enjoy.

Fast and rough? Slow and steady? Maybe a little bit of both? You bet he’ll be saying fuck yeah to all of those.

His sex drive has always been relatively quite high, even after all these years. Being 50 and counting ain’t gonna stop him anytime soon.

Can, and will, want to fuck you on any and every surface of the house.

Living room couch? Perfect spot for bouncing in his lap or to blow him hard.

Dining room table? He’ll have you either bent over and railing you from behind or sitting on top while he devours your dripping wet pussy.

Taking a shower? You’ll be saving water if you do it together… yeah. Definitely not because of at least a half dozen things you can do in there with soothing hot water pouring down your bodies.

In the studio?…

Okay maybe not the studio he’s gotta work without getting distracted and lord save you two if anyone finds a sliver of evidence that you two fucked in there-

Not a PDA guy much, which also extends to any sexual antics outside. He won’t be taking any risks getting the two of you caught lacking

As long as you two are in the house, it’s free game

His views and methods of sex vary depending on which era we’re talking about

If he were in his 1999’s/2000’s era, then yeah, absolute horndog. He’s constantly so busy and on the move, sex would be a quick trip and onto the next. It would’ve scratched the itch, but arguably wouldn’t have sated his appetite for long. If he ever had a chance to have a good, drawn out sex session, it’ll leave him looking like he had a serious hangover but he’ll be waking up so relaxed.

Him being quick to fuck around and quick to leave was his style pre-Relapse. It’s a common thing you see around music artists in general and he was no exception. That doesn’t mean he was closed off to finding an actual solid relationship, it just becomes that much harder to find someone genuine. Most of the time though, he was busy putting out albums and producing music with a 9 to 5 regimen.

Post-Relapse/Recovery Em had insane stamina due to the excessive amount of exercise he put in. Call me insane, but I have a feeling this may be the time where he had the least amount of sex drive-

NOW HOLD ON HEAR ME OUT

He was starting out his sobriety around this time, I’m no expert but I would have to think that he hasn’t fucked or hooked up with anyone since then cause sex may have been a risk or his body was recovering, therefore most likely putting sex as a low priority. That isn’t to say he wasn’t busting a nut oh no, he probably became best friends with his hands again.

The time between Rap God/Monster Era was slowly building back up his drive, transitioning him to the Revival/Present Day era where he’s back on his blue-balling bullshit. Mans been practically putting out mating calls in his music and in interviews I mean COME ON HAVE YOU SEEN IT

He’s wise enough to not be caught slipping with hoes cause he won’t be caught with those hoes. At all. He’s not a hoe fucker no more. You heard him.

Finding an actual healthy relationship with one person? Someone give it to him, now.

(Anyone who remembers that one shot in that Rainy Days behind the scenes video where he points the camera to his crotch and says “EVERYTHING is for sale.” If that isn’t a man in heat I dunno what is; And that’s just one example out of many lemme tell you)

THE POINT IS, HE CAN GO FOR ONE ROUND, OR MANY, MANY MORE.

He’s determined to make you feel good more than him, but he’ll absolutely be having fun with how you’re gonna come. He’ll love exploring your body, finding out every little spot that gives you shivers down your spine.

Oh yeah, did I mention that he's got a big dick? He's got a big dick.

Don't try to deny it when you can't help but glance at his crotch all the time. It might be bias, or it might be fact that you can see the bulge in his pants.

Dom/Sub Roles:

He’s a dom, no question about that. Most of the time he’s a soft dom, not overwhelmingly asserting himself over you but firm enough to have you listen to him. Of course, he’ll be praising you a ton if you’re doing good and listening. But if you’re acting a little bratty, a little petty… yeah, he’ll make you behave, let’s just leave it at that.

Enjoys having you bent over his knee while he fingers your pussy, making sure you’re all nice and ready for him to enjoy.

If you squirm too much, expect a light spanking and a firm reminder to behave.

Again, not over the top with his dominance, cause at the end of the day, he wants to take care of you, to make you feel comfortable and show you how much he loves you. So praising isn’t just a dom thing, it’s genuinely how he expresses his affection to you.

If you insist on it, he can go even harder as a dom, upping his antics and getting off on seeing you beg for relief. Punishments will be even meaner and if you slip up even just a little, looks like you’re gonna have to start all over. No amount of pleading, teary whines from you will get him to change the cold, hard look in his eyes as he’s watching you.

Absolutely insistent on a safe word, no matter the situation.

Marshall’s immediately shifting to a protective, nurturing caretaker the moment your safe word leaves your lips and making sure your needs are met, completely understanding and shushing any apologies that threaten to leave your mouth for ruining the moment. You come first and foremost.

Amazing with aftercare. Will make sure that you’re okay and well taken care of after a session, praising you lovingly as he holds you close. If it was particularly intense, he’ll be checking in on you for the next day or so whilst feeling quite proud of himself that he can reduce you to a begging, dripping mess yesterday night. But he's by far more proud of you for trusting him and letting him experience you in such a vulnerable position.

All it takes is for him to say: "Such a good girl" and you're all his. (Can't blame you honestly-)

He'll be using your petnames even outside of your passionate sessions, even if it's just coming home to greet you after a day of work or passing by each other in the house to do something, a quick: "Hey peaches" or "How's my babygirl?" never fails to want to leave you smiling shyly, even after a bad day.

While being a sub is not what he would usually do at all, it’s not impossible. Once he’s far into a relationship with you and fully comfortable, he might actually give in to your insistence.

He has a need to feel like he’s in control, like he’s leading; Being on the opposite end is a big deal for him, so if he ever subs it’s a huge fucking compliment and privilege that shows how much he trusts and loves you to bare himself to you.

He’ll definitely be grumbly about it tho, and probably trying to act all teasing at your attempt to dominate him. But once you get past that first phase and he lets himself relax and give into your control… he doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels so fucking secure with you.

When he fully gives in, he’s preening and leaning into your touch. He’ll be such a good boy under your lavish praise and having all of your attention on him.

It feels almost foreign, not being the one in charge and making all the decisions for once. But once he gets used to it, he'll be doing whatever he can to receive your approval.

Seeing him at your mercy, letting you take the reins, makes it your priority to see him come undone by your command, holy shit, it's fucking beautiful.

If he's up for being a little more bratty (not unlike he's been on his petty shit for decades as his core personality trait let's be real here) and expecting to be punished and/or your dominance be harsher, the thought of pushing you to your limits with how much you're willing to keep up with him makes him really, really excited on the inside.

It’s both of your secrets, so don’t fuck it up, a'ight?

Teasing/Body Parts:

Speaking of secrets… he’s incredibly private, but at the same time, don’t be surprised if he ends up writing lyrics that may or may not allude or be inspired by your sex lives. You swear this man will be the death of you, smug bastard.

If you’re ever turned on by listening to his music or his voice, it’ll be such a massive ego boost for him, holy shit. No need to feel embarrassed, cause he’s fucking flattered.

Even tho his residence is far from any neighbors (and definitely soundproof), he’s got a playlist for your ears to get aroused to.

Imagine Marshall whispering in your ear or talking in that low voice of his and well damn now you’re horny is an understatement of the goddamn century.

And it’s not just you! Marshall gets off hearing you moan like crazy, another sign that lets him know he’s doing a damn good job. Hearing you whimpering gets him going, but making you scream? Jackpot.

Unsurprisingly to a lot of y’all, but he loves tits. He loves ass for sure, but feeling your breasts is just- Yes.

Love fondling them, licking, biting, sucking, you name it.

Now do the same for him-

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN’S PECS

MAN’S GOT HUGE FUCKING HONKERS. HOLY SHIT.

(No wonder he’s such a titty guy-)

But seriously, play with his chest and he’ll be moaning and writhing under you. Music to your ears.

Rest assured your ass will not be forgotten or neglected. No fucking way he’ll ever leave any part of you un-worshipped. Even when you’re just passing each other around the house he’ll playfully slap or squeeze your ass with a smirk. Cheeky fucker.

May or may not prompt him to just throw you down and pin you against whatever furniture is closest and have his way with you right then and there.

Or it could be the other way around! You can't help but give his sexy behind a mischievous swat or grab, or his pecs. He'll probably pretend to be miffed but you'll be catching him returning the smirk you have on your face. Oh, by all means, have your way with him right then and there as well. Equal rights, equal sexy times.

Grabbing your backside and pulling you closer to him, pressed against his chest and his growing bulge in his pants oh sweet Jesus-

Will for sure spank you while you’re riding him or he’s railing you from behind, the sounds of skin slapping against skin while he sees your ass jiggle with every thrust is just so fucking hot

He wants to reach deep down, as far as his cock can reach, nothing in the house is safe from him pounding your pussy and giving you a creampie.

Speaking of that, He LOVES to come into you or on you. It gives him a feeling of claiming what's his. Anytime he sees his cum dripping outta you or running down your skin, Marshall’s ready to go again.

Or he could use a sex toy, making sure his cum stays inside and your pussy ready for him in a few.

Kinks

We’ve already covered the dom/sub parts, but there is SO much potential for other kinks that you and him can get into so let’s get right into it

Breeding Kink:

I mean how can we not start this off without mentioning that

Can, and will ram you harder and faster than a piston AND make sure you both cum multiple times

If you’re walking the next morning, that means he failed the assignment so now he’s boutta rectify that

Dirty talk is cranked to a hundred as he’s growling in your ear on how much of a slut you are for his seed, how he’ll fill you up and make sure your womb is carrying his baby, how gorgeous you would look with your belly swollen with your little creation, etc.

Even if he’s sure that he doesn’t want anymore kids (given his age or experience, which is understandable), imagine the baby fever he gets when he sees or imagines you with kids

He’s perfectly happy with just you and him, but the possibility of you, him, and maybe a little one you made together from your love? His pupils are dilating like a cat getting ready to pounce

Even if the possibilities are extremely unlikely, the mere thought of it and he’s giving you the 🥺 eyes. (Every time you see him make those eyes at you, it’s probably cause he’s feelin the breeding urge)

If you're not able to, that doesn't change a thing; he wants to make you feel like you're his no matter what, and you are! He loves you for you.

Obsessed with coming inside you after railing you into the mattress, filling you to the brim with his seed

Loves giving you a creampie and then watching it leak out of your pussy, might take the initiative to stuff his spilling cum back into you

Or he could just fuck you at multiple different times during the day like the stud he is

Hell he may as well just not pull out and you’ll both be falling asleep still connected

You'll be waking up with his member engorged and slowly thrusting in you while he nuzzles into you, taking in your scent, kissing your lips so softly until you both cum. After that he takes you to the shower and you both wash each other

Loves marking your skin with his mouth, letting anyone know that your his and his only

Your cunt and everything else is thoroughly satisfied every time the breeding kink comes on don’t you worry about that honey

Size Kink:

Hey don't judge his 5'7 ass. Marshall's got other big things minus his height; Big hands, big ears, HUGE CO-

If you're smaller than him: He praises you for taking him in so well, whispers words of encouragement with every inch he pushes into you until you can feel his tip brushing against your cervix. Doesn't want to overdo it in fear of hurting you, but with your insistence he'll be going all out in due time

If you're taller than him: He LOVES it. No cap you being taller or bigger than him is so fucking sexy. Makes him more eager to make you come and more confidence in exploring different ways to do so

Takes a hand in yours and guides you both to press against your stomach, feeling for his cock thrusting into you

Praises you constantly as he feels your walls stretch around him so perfectly

Once you feel like you can take all of him, all of his restraint is gone as he pounds your sopping wet cunt relentlessly

Body worshipping is a must regardless of size

Feral/Primal Kink:

You know how possessive he can be, and that still translates to the bedroom. Even when he knows you're his, he can't help but feel turned on by his possessiveness for you.

And when you're all his, he can go fucking. Crazy.

It's also the dom feeling in him as well, but he has a need to claim you: Not out of insecurity, but out of his desire to make sure you know how much he loves you.

Likes biting your ear as an affectionate gesture. Sometimes he enjoys lightly tugging as a playful gesture to get you riled up.

Marshall thinks the growling thing is dumb as hell but if you're into that he'll try to give you some throaty growls in your ear, but expect him to start cracking up at his attempts until he's used to it

He thinks he can't do it yet he doesn't realize the low rumble in his throat whenever he gets a jealous streak

Voice/Audio Kink:

Well, well, WELL. Someone's ego is about to be stroked harder than his cock for once

He’ll absolutely be moaning and grunting more often when you guys have sex

Jokingly asks if you want to put some music on before you start fucking though he probably cringes listening to his own music during sex

Definitely ruins the mood for him when he hears someone that collabed with him on one of his songs or if any of his lyrics mention things that he doesn't want to think about when horny

Whenever he asks what you're listening to and hears one of his songs, he can't help but inwardly smile or smirk with pride. "Good choice." He nods, keeping his face unreadable.

If he catches you listening to FACK he just starts dying with laughter and dying on the inside simultaneously

No but seriously, he's super fucking flattered knowing how much his music or just his voice turns you on

Whispers in your ear during sex, either praising, teasing, or telling you what to do

He'll be observing which tone provokes the biggest reaction out of you so he can remember it for future reference

(People working with him in the studio are gonna be wondering why he's so close to the mic while recording recently)

Might record something just for your ears to listen to when you guys are apart ;)

Sex Positions

Missionary:

Ah, the OG.

Ranging from being the most vanilla to literally breaking the bed and making the house shake. Most people’s go-to position and Marshall is no different.

He’s got full access to your face, neck, and breasts while he pounds you into the mattress, absolutely loves it and it’s no surprise.

Is eye contact a kink? He’ll be wanting to look you in the eyes no matter the pace you’re going. Additionally may often include forehead touching and/or nose nuzzling. Incredibly hot and intimate.

If he’s feeling extra curious or dominant, he might even push your legs back and over his shoulders to reach even deeper into you. (In other words, putting you in a mating press.) You ain’t walking for a few days after this. Catch his freaky ass all smug n shit.

Slow and intimate in this position is SO fulfilling. It’s like baring your souls to one another.

Going fast and rough is just straight up a joyride and a half. It feels carnal in the best way possible.

Overall you can’t fuck this up really. It’s missionary for crying out loud.

Doggystyle:

*clears throat* Ahem. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

If you haven’t seen my fic Heat yet, it’s basically me writing smut for the first time in this position but taken to the next level. Should hint at a lot on what imma bout to say tbh

YES. HELL YES. PLEASE LET HIM RAM INTO YOU FROM BEHIND. HE’LL BE POUNDING INTO YOU SO FUCKING HARD

If you go face down on the bed, ass up? Holy shit

Expect bruises on your hips the next morning… also a very horny man ready to go again or to absolutely worship the fuck outta you for taking it so fucking amazingly

He'll be running a bath for you, being extra doting and attentive, the whole nine yards while also feeing that masculine satisfaction™ at the fact that he's able to get you to that state of bliss.

By far the most feral position. If he’s got a breeding kink I wish you luck on how many times you’re gonna come and he’s gonna come

If you’re also into taking it in the ass I respect you 👀 kinky motherfucker would love to explore some new ways to fuck

Pronebone is also basically the same as mentioned above, but it’s got that intimate feel, you get me? He’s closer to you whilst also able to attack your neck and shoulders, maybe even have a hot make out session with you while he continues to pound your pussy or ass raw.

As long as you love taking it from behind he’ll be on his knees for you. And on top of you.

Cowgirl/Reverse Cowgirl, You On Top:

Ride him. That’s all I gotta say.

He wants you to ride him. Fuck him silly. He’ll lose it.

It’s a perfect demonstration of him still being the dom. You may be on top, but he’s the one in control.

Might tease you by making you work hard for a reaction outta him. He’ll be pretending to be unimpressed or smug while you bounce in his lap but in reality he’s trying so hard not to break

Either that, or he won’t be holding back on how good you make him feel. Mouth open, quietly moaning, grabbing your ass or your hips.

If he can't take it anymore, he pulls you down to him and holds you tight while he starts bucking his hips, pounding up into you like a piston

Even once you both come he starts back up again before you've even calmed down

Oral (Giving and Receiving)/69:

I mean… are we really gonna question it? Yeah you better give this guy some head he is a slut for it

Give him a blowjob and he’ll be the happiest man alive

You watching his expressions as you’re sucking him off

Might take some practice to take all of him into your mouth cause this man is BIG

Even when he’s got loose sweatpants on you can still see his bulge AND IT’S NOT WHEN HE’S HARD AND HORNY. MARSHALL’S PACKING.

I wish you luck in trying to deepthroat this man

When it comes to oral, he definitely prefers receiving rather than giving

But don’t you DARE underestimate this man’s tongue cause holy fucking hell he’s feasting on your pussy

PLEASE let him suck on your clit while he’s eating you out. That man’s mouth is amazing in many ways for a reason

Imagine having to go out after and if anyone asks him if he wants anything to eat he just replies: “Nah I’m good. I had something earlier.” And then GIVING YOU THE SIDE EYE LOOK-

BEARD. BURN.

Let this man bury his face in between your thighs and imagine the friction of his beard brushing against your skin. If that doesn’t make you cum then him lapping you up will guaranteed

69 turns into a competition to see who can get the other to cum first, or a comforting session of tasting each other

Standing:

Y'all know he can do it pinning you against a wall. Thanks 8 Mile

As hot as it is, take care as not to have your head or back bang against it

Great for quickies but probably not for a long time; You gotta give his back a break lmao

Hugging your waist from behind tho :eyes:

Add a mirror on both opposite ends of the wall and you can watch him thrust into you

He's holding you real tight and close, making sure to hold you up so your legs won't buckle

Spooning:

Feelin real cozy

It can be lazy morning sex; Intimate and gentle as he places kisses behind your ear and buries his face into your neck while he does long, deep strokes in and out of your walls

Or it can be rough: Holding your thigh up while his hips violently thrust into you, only stilling when he comes after you

Another way is his cock slipping between your thighs and humping you eagerly, or his cock rutting against your ass

Push your hips back in time with his thrusts for deeper penetration or the sound of your skin slapping against each other

His hands clutching your hips or grabbing your breasts as he moans in your ear, feeling his cock twitching with his release

- - -

ALRIGHT TIME TO STOP HERE I’VE BEEN KEEPING THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS Anyways hope y’all enjoyed this and then some <3 I might come back to this and and more so who knows? If you enjoyed let me know your feedback and if you have any suggestions!

#eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagines #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem headcanons #eminem smut #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers x you #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #marshall mathers smut

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necronatural · 11 months

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The Reigen Arataka Deranged NormalMan Review

Do you ever think about how Reigen has like. A really strange belief in The System and How Things Should Be. Like REALLY strange. Whatever he's got going on is so much weirder than "scammer with a heart of gold".

I think it all comes together if you read the 10th Season 3 omake like, seriously interrogate this:

This is normal, if comedically thoughtful and realistic for a shounen character. This guy talks like a mandatory reporter. What's strange is what immediately follows:

"AS A SPIRITUAL SPECIALIST" DOING A LOT OF HEAVY LIFTING HERE REIGEN

Not only did he hunt down the families of the children bullying his client (insane. where did he get that info), he also contacted the school as if he were representing his own son in order to get justice, and then hunted down a source of complaints when the school fell through.

This is like a genuinely bizarre level of commitment to the bit, and the bit is "the system works, and if it doesn't work, we will find a system that does work, and if we cannot, hell or high water it is my PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY to make the system stop slouching so it works again".

Long thread on the manga with this reading⬇️

Before I start. Reigen adopting Teru is more IC than you think but I don't think it is IC in the way people think it is. I think about this a lot and I think people who do it because they like Reigen aren't understanding how into his bit he is. Guy who talks to social services

So remember the arc that won people over to Reigen despite the fact he's an asshole who takes advantage of Mob and derides him constantly in order to keep him complacent?

He has Mob's phone on his GPS. This makes sense; he's been taking him out and about since he was 11. Very responsible!

Reigen dismisses the "Boss" mistake thinking well, it's a misunderstanding, but it got me in. Yet as soon as he heard they're committing crimes, he VISIBLY puts on his Boss Pants to chastise them. Again, normal so far. I think any scammer with a heart of gold would do this. (And foreshadowing for why he retried reprimanding the Claw Cadres a second time after getting power.)

Again. He's a scumbag. So he leaves Mob to beat their asses using his previous rhetoric. But then!

Reigen's shady morality is more like "people who can take care of things should take care of things". To him, Mob is the Authority on Espers, and can handle conflict like this. Immediately upon becoming aware he can't, Reigen thinks "oh, okay, so the only person who can take care of things is someone who can deescalate". (Pictured: Deescalation)

Okay. Besides the fact this is insufferable as a general concept - YOU just told him to handle it YOU are the source of his stress - his first step in deescalation is to force Mob to back down. Rather than asking him not to fight, he reestablishes "rules" in order to convince Mob he must back down - the same way he tried using what he said to worm his way out of dealing with this shit - and then sets himself up as the authority figure to which the others must obviously defer in matters of His Boy, like a parent accepting criticism at a PTA meeting. This isn't Reigen claiming Mob so much as "in order for them to not attack Mob, they must view me as a representative for Mob".

And like a good authority figure:

Continuing with his phrasing:

If you think about it, this is like...an objectively very strange and incredibly bold approach to this situation. They're homicidal. Reigen is a DERANGED level of Normal Man. He has this image in his head of normalcy, of the world at standard operating procedures, and reinforces it right through an entire conflict. Carceral beliefs don't even factor into this, simply expressing his principles and expecting them to fold.

And they do lol. I keep wondering how Shou must have felt listening to him talk like that

We see a little more of his good side in work; when he was getting so little work it was affecting his grocery bills, this moneygrubbing scammer still asked for like $200 to clear an entire city of hauntings. (His regular exorcisms are around $30). Fair prices are part of his principles of how the business should be. He operates basically at-cost. He mentions he wanted to come out here because he's bored. He's killing time as a career.

Aside:

Just realized he called Mob in last minute so Mob didn't know he accepted crops instead of money. Shigeo didn't like that

So consider that he never got caught here and there was a call on the news to hunt him down at the end of this bit: for the average viewer of the anime, it's just funny, but this is part of the Mogami pre-arc so we've gotten a hold of him by now; he probably holds an inherent belief that the police will intercept him and not Mob. Why wouldn't they? Why would an adult man want to dress up in a highschool girl's uniform? The System will understand.

Not relevant to my point but I like how he realizes what's wrong with Mob way before the final arc, just not why it's happening. Also he doesn't say anything.

With the way his principles are, you really get the feeling that Reigen does his best to avoid culpability specifically because if something happened that was his fault, he'd have to step up to the plate to compensate for that, which is troublesome to him who is a career time-killer. It does not occur to him that an actual bad person and scammer would not step up to the plate as a matter of course. This is his way

What I find really interesting is that this Militant Insane NormalMan does have a sense of wanting something "special", but rather than whip Mob up the way Dimple did Ritsu, he ended up projecting his own values onto Mob, as if he could recreate a special "self" within him. He's always deriding him and baiting him and lying to him in hopes of creating a superb person that a special individual like Mob finds admirable, as if Mob is the authority on his quality of character. Sad! lol

Anyway, it adds a lot more kick to this famous line. Reigen genuinely believes in Authority

Authority works!

And if Mob (the authority on espers) doesn't work, who's the person who MUST step up to the plate [common sense]? You guessed it.

There are other aspects of Reigen's character that everyone and their dog has already picked up on (his self-loathing is the entire reason the way he talked to Mob in Confession arc hit so hard), but this one's my favourite. He's insane

#mp100 #mp100 meta #i like him a normal amount.

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after-witch · 8 months

Text

Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Title: Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Synopsis: You're tasked with looking for Hisoka on the Black Whale. You get more than you bargained for.

Word count: 3800ish

notes: violent noncon, sexual assault, violence against reader, descriptions of blood and injuries, victim blaming against reader

It was not in your nature to question Chrollo Lucilfer, and you weren’t about to do it now. Even when there was a small, hard, resilient pit in your stomach that wondered if this was the right move. Or if perhaps you should have said something earlier, before everyone separated. It’s not as if Chrollo was ever unreasonable, but everything was for the good of the Spider and if that meant acquiescing to his decision in this case, when he seemed so intent.

He had asked you to allow him to keep your nen until Hisoka was found and dealt with, and you handed it over without a complaint. Of course you did. It was the first time he’d ever asked for your nen, and if you were willing to self-reflect a little deeper, you might admit that it was at least a little flattering.

You weren’t, you knew, the strongest (or even close to it) of the Spiders. You couldn’t mow down a group with a sweep of your arm or lift up an oncoming car and throw it into traffic. When it came to delegating who was leading the charge in a mission that required anything like that, you were certainly not at the front.

You weren’t helpless. You could hold your own in certain types of combat, of course. Nobody in the Troupe was weak against the typical combatants you personally came across. Over-eager mafia guards with faith in their guns; greedy non-combatants eager to buy priceless forbidden trinkets… all could be dealt with using the knife in your pocket or a hard, horrible kick to their neck, cracking the bones like an egg.

But if push came to shove with a nen user, well… there was a reason you were not typically sent out alone. Your own nen was useful to the Troupe, but for reconnaissance only. Once you encountered a person, you could immediately identify them through their body heat signature through any surface.

All you had to do was activate your nen and begin to search, and spot the particular pulsating colors assigned to your target. From there, the rest of the Troupe could do what they needed. Which, admittedly, often involved the gruesome demise of said target--then or later, tied to a chair after all the information had been cut out of them.

Maybe you weren’t the strongest fighter. But you were loyal to the death, and Chrollo knew that. It was an attribute that one must have, in order to be a proper spider. That’s what brought the lot of you to this godforsaken ship, after all, isn’t it?

But now you were left without your nen, without that distinct advantage that gave you the upper hand when it came to finding your target. Chrollo would put it to good use. And he needed it more than you, because you certainly weren’t going to kill Hisoka, even if you managed to find him.

If you did find him… well. You were stealthy. You would slink away and find one of the others and set a beautiful chain reaction in motion, one that ended up with Hisoka exactly where he belonged.

But first… to find him.

To call the Black Whale a “ship” was an understatement. It was not a ship. No, It was an entire country, teeming with life; with people, fights, loves, friends and so many dirty little secrets.

Hisoka was one of those dirty little secrets. He was somewhere on this ship, and come hell or high water, he would be found. By Chrollo. By the others. By you, perhaps. And he would be dealt with, as others had been in the past.

The only problem was--how in the hell were you going to find him?

WIthout your nen, you were left to rely on your natural senses. They were heightened of course, but that didn’t necessarily make it an easy task. There were thousands of people on this tier alone… crowds and crowds, weaving in and out of public areas, arguing over this and that, laughing, yelling, calling to so-and-so over the noise.

In theory, Hisoka should be easy to spot. He was tall. He was outrageous. He never failed to make a splash, appearance-wise. If he was walking in a crowd, it wouldn’t be impossible to spot him, if you were looking for him. Yet no matter what room you searched, how many faces you scanned, he wasn’t there.

You’d wondered, though, if he might have altered his looks before getting on the ship. Maybe he toned them down to avoid being too obvious.

He had to know that the Troupe would follow him. He wasn’t stupid. He was many things, yes, but never stupid.

You pass yet another common area--this one even dingier than the last, which seems to be the trend--that proves to be fruitless, filled with only groups of people in varying states. Some look tired or hungry or sick. Some are arguing. Some holding hands. Some yelling after one another to come-back-so-we-can-do-this-and-that.

But no Hisoka. The same as the other rooms, the other corridors. Countless people, blurry faces that you wouldn’t remember in a few seconds, none of them the person that you were desperate to find. If only you could see his damn body signature.

And really… but oh, the thought shouldn’t come to you, because Chrollo would not have brought any of you here (surely) were it not true. Yet here it comes anyway, slow and practical: Is Hisoka even on the ship?

You glance around you, taking in the mundane faces once more. He could be here. He could be in hiding. He could be in disguise.

Or he could be somewhere else entirely, and all of this was a trap meant to lure the Troupe onto the Black Whale. Or maybe he was--

“Found you~!”

There’s no time to react to the deceptively jovial nature of Hisoka’s voice before your body whips backward and your stomach lurches hard, yanked by the power of nen-induced gravitational forces that pull you completely against his chest and refuse to let you move forward.

But you’re not helpless, are you? No. Your hands move quickly, pulling out the knife in your pocket and preparing to jab straight into an artery. Chrollo might not be happy if Hisoka bled out here and now, but it’s better than letting him get away--alone or with you.

Hisoka is faster, and your knife is thrust out of your hand with a sticky sound. You can tell Hisoka is gripping the handle tightly when the point of the knife is pressed against your back. Not in subtle warning, but truly pressed, the point digging into your flesh with a flash of pain. You can feel blood trickling down, wetting against your shirt, where it will surely stick and stain.

“You never were the strongest, hm?” His voice is right in your ear, his breath a mixture of some sweet concoctions. Gum and candy and mints. “Why did dear Chrollo send you out alone…”

You feel your lips curl up in a sneer, for all the good it does you, but whatever insult your mind was going to conjure is lost when Hisoka lets off a soft little hum and begins to drag you--though the word is perhaps not quite correct, as you’re stuck to him with his damn Bungee Gum--away. All the while, the knife stays in the flesh of your back, burning every time he gives it a little twist.

No one in this part of the ship pays you any attention after they see who’s dragging you. Eyes glance over you and quickly look away. Someone skitters off--maybe to find whatever passes for law enforcement, though they had precious little presence in this part of the Black Whale--but you don’t place faith in them. You never placed faith in anyone but Chrollo and to a different extent, the other members of the Troupe.

Present company excluded, of course.

Before Hisoka dips into one of the winding corridors past the common room, you jerk your hand behind your back. Hisoka easily bats it away, keeping you from grabbing the knife--or so he thinks. You let the blood you’ve gathered from your wounded back drip down your fingers onto the floor. You leave another smear on a wall just before Hisoka turns.

Blood, deep and red--your version of Hansel’s pitiful breadcrumbs.

With any luck, someone from the Troupe will find it.

The maze of the Black Whale has never been as irritating as it is now. Soon enough, Hisoka has taken you away from even the outskirts of the level, into what must be some little-used crew spaces. The room he seems to decide upon is sparse and dark, with metal walls and a few gas lamps giving the room a soft glow. There are no beds or furniture, only the lamps and a barred clock. Maybe it was meant to be a crew quarter before it was abandoned.

Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that once Hisoka has locked the door (where did he get a key? The question is tucked away for later, for Chrollo, for the others) he releases you from his hold and you stumble forward. Your back aches and the damn knife is still in his hand, twirled easily with his fingers.

He doesn’t quite look like himself. Gone are the ostentatious clothing and styled hair. Instead, he’s wearing something simple, a dark shirt and trousers, and his hair hangs loose. He’s still Hisoka, there’s no doubt about that. The smile alone is enough to give him away, now that you’re up close. But it’s enough to make him blend in with the masses, when you aren’t sure who you are looking for.

“Well?” He asks, splaying his arms out, holding the knife carelessly--like a toy. “Do you want to play? Or shall we wait for the others?” The light of the gas lamps makes his visage even more irritating to you. You want to shine a spotlight on him, show him for what he is.

You take a fighting stance, and he only quirks his head at you before his smile grows wider. More indulgent. But there’s no judgment on your end for that, no need for a bruised ego or snapping words. You’re not a combative fighter, and you never were. You could hold your own sometimes but… against Hisoka? The thought isn’t even worth entertaining.

But what else were you supposed to do?

With your back bleeding and your nen (such as it was) gone, you launched yourself at Hisoka with just the faintest hope of lasting long enough for backup to arrive.

How quickly it ends would be laughable, if you could find any of this funny. The knife he pilfered from you flies through the air, aimed at your chest--my heart, you think--and you manage to dodge just enough for the knife to slice your shoulder, cutting your shirt and taking off a layer of skin. It was thrown so hard that the blade slides right into the metal wall.

You could whirl around and try to grab it. But it’s smarter to keep an eye on Hisoka, so you do.

And… so does he. His eyes roam up and down, and it makes your stomach begin to harden, your thoughts turning to things they normally didn’t in a situation like this.

“Ohh,” Hisoka says, voice slow and sticky as his telltale trick. “Well, that’s a sight.”

You don’t know what he means at first. But when the sting of your missing skin catches up with you, you glance down at your injured shoulder. The knife cut through the fabric of your shirt as well as your bra strap, both of which now hang limply down, exposing one bared breast.

There’s only so fast your thoughts can go, trapped in a metal room with Hisoka, no clear way out, and a knife firmly embedded into the wall. Your eyes dart here and there, desperate for options. If you could get the knife out, you might be able to keep him occupied long enough for someone else to spot your blood, and if they did--

Hisoka sighs, interrupting your thoughts, and it’s almost like a croon which makes the hairs on your arm stand on end. Sensing danger was a skill you developed as a child, and it was no less fine-tuned as an adult. Something was going to happen. Something awful.

“Well, well--why not?” He asks himself. There’s a smile on his face and his voice and it sets your nerves on edge. “We’ll be here for a while. Don’t want to get bored, do we?”

You only have time to get out a gruff “What are you tal--” before Hisoka swoops in, extending his leg for a kick, and breaks your leg with his foot. It’s as simple as breaking a twig for him, and for you there is a bright flash in your vision just before you go down. The sound of the crunch is almost worse than the pain, but only for a moment, when you land hard and awkward and the pain bursting in your ribs sends stars into your eyes.

But you don’t cry out. You’re better than that, at least, it’s the one thing you hold onto in the moment as adrenaline and pain compete for attention in your racing mind.

Something else elbows in, as well, almost literally--Hisoka, pouncing down on you, tall and looming. His wrists grab your arms and pin them down to the ground. The carpetless floor is cold but you can feel sweat--or perhaps it’s the blood from your back--underneath.

“Should I break these too?” Hisoka muses, not quite addressing you. He’s smiling softly, almost serenely. It makes you hate him more. “I do so want to hear all your pretty noises.”

Hot breath pushes in and out through your nose and you grit your teeth.

“Fuck you,” you say, before spitting right in his satisfied, smiling, smug face.

But the bastard doesn’t change his expression at all. The thin dab of spit sits on his cheek and he just beams down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Well, it was your idea.”

You see his hand curl in a fist just before he punches his wrist out, short and swift, and breaks your nose. The sound of the crunch is registered first, before a heavy, sharp pain--the pain of splitting bone fragments--spreads across your face. Unbidden tears stream down your eyes, and you feel and taste the blood that pours from your nose rather than smell it.

“You know,” Hisoka says, leaning close, his breath hot on your bleeding face, “on some women, this might make them look less pretty. But on you?” He sticks out his tongue and laps at the spot underneath your nose, teasing your upper lips. “It’s darling. Really.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, a hint of bubble in your tone from the blood that makes its way into your mouth. You spit, managing to dribble some of it out. It oozes down your chin with your drool and tears.

Hisoka reaches out and tucks a sweaty piece of hair behind your ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Somehow, it didn’t register before, what Hisoka meant. What Hisoka was planning.

You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen him act vulgar before; seen him groan and wet his lips in battle, flirting, cooing, sometimes even sporting an erection visible through his pants.

Speaking of--you glance down and see that “sometimes” has occurred now. And it’s then that things seem to click into place in your frazzled mind, pushing through the pain in your back and your leg and your face.

He’s going to…

The word doesn’t come, because Hisoka busies himself by tearing off the rest of your shirt, the bra flying to the wall with it. You have the presence of mind to strike out when his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants, but it does you no good. He grips your fingers firmly--they might be fractured, but there’s a rush of humiliating adrenaline that keeps you from focusing on it--and peels off your pants and underwear in a surprisingly swift motion. At least, you think dimly, he didn’t rip them.

There’s a slow thought process that begins to weave its way into your brain. What should you do, now? It wasn’t something that happened, wasn’t something even on the radar, of previous assignments and missions and heists. People who hated the Troupe wanted all of you dead. No one had--to your knowledge--tried to do something like this before. No one had been strong or smart enough to even get this close to you, much less the members who were physically stronger.

But this was Hisoka, and a completely different scenario. One that you found yourself unprepared for, physically and otherwise. Do you fight? You won’t win. Do you seethe and tell him exactly what you think of him? He might get annoyed and kill you, and then you’d be useless to everyone.

At least if you live, they’ll know Hisoka is on the ship. You can still help. You can still--

There’s a condescending gentle pat to your cheek--then another, and another. It doesn’t hurt directly but it jostles your face, causing fresh, sharp pain to shoot up your nose.

“Are you still there? Don’t pass out on me now… you should be able to take a few broken bones.”

You feel your gaze harden and it only makes him laugh. He traces a shape--a heart, the fucker--on your cheek with his finger before taking both of your wrists and pinning them next to your head on the floor.

When you glance down again, you realize he’s pulled down his trousers, which must be discarded somewhere in the room. You can see his naked, erect cock and there’s a strange realization that comes over you.

He’s going to fuck you. Here, in this isolated room, underneath the ocean. He might kill you after. Or during, who knows. It’s a fact that this will happen and that these are possibilities. The logical part of your brain holds onto this fact, as if it might make it easier.

“Ready?” He smiles down at you.

You’re not ready, and he knows this, and that’s what makes it fun for him.

He pushes inside with a single hard thrust, and you feel a burning sear on your insides as he presses his cock fully inside you with no attempt to ease himself (or you) into things.

“Mmm,” he groans, pulling out just enough to thrust back in again. “Tighter than I thought. The boss hasn’t had you?”

There’s a blossoming pain in your chest. Broken ribs or humiliation or some terrible mixture of both.

You grit your teeth and you don’t say exactly what you want to say, because it might make him angry enough to kill you, but you can’t let things slide entirely.

“Don’t--” Your breath hitches when he thrusts inside you harder than before, you’re sure you must be bleeding between your legs now. But you force yourself to continue.

“Don’t talk about him… you… you traitor.” You wish the word had some weight, but you can tell it means nothing to Hisoka.

At least nothing bad. Because you can feel his cock twitch inside you and it makes bile rise in your throat, hot and stinging.

Hisoka runs his fingers through your hair. There’s something sticky on his fingers--your blood?--that makes you wince. The deceptive gentleness only lasts a moment before he backhands you, catching your broken nose on his fingers. Tears fall from your eyes against your will, and you feel fresh blood trickle out of your nose.

“So mouthy! I love it!”

His cock twitches again and you feel him sigh at the sensations it must give him, to be forcing himself on you, thrusting himself in and out of your abused sex.

You don’t know how long it goes on. Long enough for the searing pain to turn into burning ache, for the pain between your legs to blur together with the pain everywhere else.

But eventually he must be reaching his limit, because he begins to speed up his thrusts, pressing the fingers on your wrist down enough to hurt.

“Tell Chrollo,” he says, a hint of an uncontrolled, breathy pant in his name finally creeping in at the direct use of Chrollo’s name, “that this is his fault.”

HIsoka’s fingers tighten on one of your wrists as he increases his force and his speed, and you feel and hear the crunch, the sharp pain joining the ache of your battered body.

“He sent you alone,” he continues, thrusting harder with every word. “He took your nen, semi-useless as it is.”

There’s no grand finale to his orgasm, only the feel of his muscles tensing above you, a single final push as he emptied himself inside you. And then Hisoka himself, leaning in to whisper in your ear, voice dripping with deceitful honey.

“He should have known better than to send a weak thing like you to look for me. He could have at least let you keep your nen… then you might have seen me coming, no?”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek. You feel the stickiness of clear lip gloss left behind. Ah, you think, a dull, slow, stupid thought. Then he didn’t give up his vanity entirely on the ship.

You don’t move from your spot on the ground. You’re not sure you want to try, just yet. You hear Hisoka’s footsteps receding, hear the whining of the metal door opening and the clang of it shutting behind him.

For a while, you hear nothing at all. Nothing except your ragged breath.

And then your grunts and irritatingly soft whimpers as you slowly, agonizingly sit up. You don’t want to be found like this. Weak and bleeding and…

Your fingers fish around on the floor until you find your torn shirt, your underwear, your pants. It takes you a long time to get redressed. Your shirt doesn’t even cover you fully, and you fumble with your aching fingers and likely broken wrist to tie it off, giving you an ounce of modesty.

Every part of you aches. Some parts of you are broken. There’s a horrible soreness between your legs, and you know without checking that it’s not just Hisoka’s seed that’s leaking out of you but blood.

But you manage it. Carefully. Painfully.

Sometime later, the door opens again, a metallic whine.

But it’s not Hisoka, come to brag or finish you off. It’s Chrollo, standing alone, the lights of the hallway obscuring everything but his silhouette, which wavers despite the fact that he’s standing in place. Your vision is spotty, dizzying--from the blood loss or the pain or the stress or all of it at once.

His footsteps to you are slow, careful. You dimly register him kneeling in front of you and saying your name. You feel his eyes looking you over, and it’s a different feeling than Hisoka staring at your exposed, broken, bleeding body. But it’s just as open, and you only just resist the urge to curl up on yourself and hide what little that you can.

It would just aggravate your wounds, anyway.

You don’t see Chrollo’s expression when everything clicks into place, but oh, damn it all. You hear his breath hitch and somehow that hurts more than your broken ribs.

“Look at me,” he says finally, his voice soft but commanding.

And you do. Chrollo’s expression is neutral, calm. It’s what you need, maybe. What he thinks you need? You’re not sure if there’s a difference.

“Hisoka.” He doesn’t elaborate further, and he doesn’t need to.

You nod.

“I’ll have you taken care of,” he tells you. His words are slow and deliberate, and there’s an inkling of shame in your chest at them. You shouldn’t be in this position, not in front of Chrollo or at all. You’re meant to be above this weakness. Aren’t you?

There’s a few moments, and you’ve been around Chrollo to know what he’s going to ask next. It doesn’t make the way it turns your stomach sour any less unpleasant.

“Did he say anything important to you?”

You think. You wet your lips, tasting blood and mucus.

And then you shake your head. No. You won’t tell Chrollo what Hisoka said, because despite the way his words twisted something in you, deep down--it’s not true. You’re an adult. You joined the Troupe, fought for your place in it. You joined the mission. You agreed to go alone, agreed to hand over your nen.

Chrollo sighs. He inspects you, again, looking for tell-tale signs of what you won’t say to him.

And then he tells you, simply--

“You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

It’s not an order. It’s not even a request, not really. It’s an admission of the fact that he trusts you and you trust him and you don’t have to keep things from him.

In the end, you don’t know what’s more bitter. Your failure, the mucus-tinged blood on your tongue, or the stilted admission that comes next.

"He said it was your fault. He said you shouldn't have sent me alone without at least my nen so I could at least see him coming.”

Your words sound robotic, even to your ears. How does Chrollo hear them? Hopefully for the mechanical repetition that they are. You don’t want the words to carry any weight, because you don’t believe them.

Chrollo closes his eyes. Then he looks at you, and it might just make you cry. Because his expression, just for the moment that he allows you to take it in, is absolutely dreadful.

It passes, and you’re glad, and maybe it’s the blood loss but you swear there’s a euphoric relief when Chrollo’s expression returns to neutral and he merely wraps his arm around you and assists you up.

You let him, biting your cheek to keep quiet with all of the pain in your broken, used body as he assists you to your feet--or rather, your one unbroken foot--before lifting you into his arms to carry you out.

You don’t want to wince. Or whimper. Or do anything but let your mouth fill up with fresh blood from the blisters from your teeth, the consequence of keeping quiet now.

Because above all, you don’t want to see that look in Chrollo’s eyes ever again.

In fact, you realize, grim--you’d rather die than see that look once more.

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #darkfic #afterwitch writes

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