#i had fun with this one!! it’s very rare i actually spend time on a drawing over days instead of giving up or hyperfixating for eight hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

happyyyandcrazyyy · 5 months ago

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matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not an ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’d been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep enough to sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself outfight, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 1 year ago

Note

Hii i was wondering if you could do the slashers with an s/o who likes being carried around everywhere (Brahms Bo and any others of your chosing)

slashers with an s/o who likes being carried around everywhere

mentioned: brahms heelshire, bo sinclair, thomas hewitt, stu macher, michael myers, tiny firefly

warnings: mentions of murder

a/n: thank you so much for the request, this was so fun to write!

also, i had to put tiny in here because i just love him so much :((

brahms heelshire

the one thing brahms yearns for in his life is closeness, somebody who will never leave him

so when you express that you like to be carried around he can't really believe his luck

he loves being close to you and this is just another opportunity for just that

he'll probably carry you one of two ways; he'll either carry you in his arms bridal style, or he'll carry you chest to chest (i don't really know how to actually describe it)

he hates being alone so he loves being able to have you with him most of the time

he won't carry you around all the time though because he still has his own things to do

bo sinclair

he hates it...or at least, he claims he does

bo usually spends his days alone, either working in the gas station or playing his part to lure unsuspecting victims into the town

he never really has much going on, and if he's being honest, it gets lonely

his brother vincent rarely comes out from his workshop and lester rarely has much to do with the town itself so he's left to his own devices most days, with nothing but his own mind to slowly drive him crazy

the second he discovers you like being carried everywhere, he takes a lot of enjoyment in doing exactly that

he doesn't really carry you properly, he kind of just drags you

it's somewhat like a half-assed piggy back

and although he'll spend the majority of the time grunting and groaning about it, cussing you out under his breath, he actually really loves finally having somebody so close to him

it certainly makes his days less lonely

whilst he's very uncaring though about how he carries you, if you're ill or you're injured, he'll make sure to be real careful with you

day to day though he really couldn't give a shit about being careful but he'll never admit to how much he loves carrying you

thomas hewitt

thomas doesn't like being away from you much, so being able to carry you around is just a bonus for him

he takes every opportunity to pick you up and carry you places, even if you haven't asked

sometimes he'll pick you up bridal style and sometimes he'll simply sling you over his shoulder because it's easier

his family get on at him for doing it so much because you need to pull your weight and such and he's just letting you laze around but he doesn't listen to them

he continues to carry you around because he really just loves having you with him all the time

he hopes you never stop enjoying being carried everywhere because he loves it

stu macher

he loves carrying you around

he's always offering to give you piggy backs

sometimes he'll take you by surprise and throw you over his shoulder and carry you like that

either way, he finds it fun to carry you around everywhere

he has requested a piggy back or two in the past though, which ultimately ended with you almost collapsing beneath him

michael myers

he doesn't really care either way, but there's no way he'll put any effort into carrying you. you either hang off the back of his shoulders or nothing

michael's pretty strong so having you on his back wouldn't really affect his day to day activities

stalking his sister? no problem. you're not even there

murdering someone who happened to get in his way? he barely even notices you

simply walking down the street, having you on his back makes no difference as he simply couldn't care less

he does secretly enjoy having you with him though as he gets lonely sometimes

you're like a little companion he can just take with him wherever he goes

tiny firefly

tiny likes to be helpful so he definitely doesn't mind carrying you around

he's used to anyone outside of his family shying away from him because of his appearance, so when he learns that you want him to carry you around places, he practically jumps at the chance

he loves that you're not afraid of him like most people and is honestly happy to help you out in this way

he enjoys having the company and he also enjoys being able to be close to you, so this is really a win win situation for you both

[Main Masterlist]

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botchedsundoll · 16 days ago

Text

L. KENNEDY, C. REDFIELD, C. OLIVEIRA X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; general relationship/ domestic hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; none!

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; hi giys my requests r open😝 request please… pls☹️, idc if some of these r ooc in my world they are very much in character i love them all so much oh my god, didn’t include much abt their jobs bcos i wany thrm all to be happy okay..

C. OLIVEIRA

have you seen them photos of them big beefy scary men underneath like thick hello kitty or very feminine blankets? yeah that’s him

SNORES. SNORES SO LOUDLY. he wraps his arms around you instinctively at night and his grip is so tight you genuinely can’t escape his warmth or snoring

on the topic of that, he runs warm. he’s a genuine heater in winter - cold? cuddle up to him, saving money on the heating. win win!

whenever he comes home from the gym or wherever and he spots you watching one of your shows on the tv, he’ll stand behind the couch and watches it himself before eventually sitting down besides you. he can’t help it

every friday IS date night. whether that be something as simple as dinner at home together or something as extravagant as going to a fancy restaurant, the two of you are spending time together. he will make sure of that

going off of my previous hc’s, he can’t bake for life of him. cooking he’s rather okay-ish with all the simple stuff but baking? alone? absolutely not

the two of you decided to bake something for one of your date nights once. you asked him to pour flour and cocoa powder into the wet ingredients and turn the mixer on - he forgot to put the splashguard on and turned it right up to the fastest setting

safe to say your kitchen, and carlos, looked as if they’d just came out of winter wonderland

gives off the biggest girl dad vibes. just imagine him letting his little girl put random clips and bows in his hair jshwiaianwi omg

he has such a soft spot for strays. has genuinely brought home a puppy before because he saw it laying out by the dumpster before and couldn’t leave it alone

he’s all over you. CONSTANTLY. arm over your shoulder, hand on your hip. he can’t get enough of you

L. KENNEDY

he wakes up a few minutes earlier than he actually needs to (when he does actually fall asleep) just stare at you and how peace you look asleep

you’ve asked him to help you with your hair so many times to the point he’s genuinely become an absolute professional at it. the moment you give him that look he tells you to turn around and starts working his magic

keeps photos of you in his wallet, he knows deep down its rather risky but can’t help himself

in the instances that he does fall asleep before you (extremely rare) and you cuddle up against his side, his arm automatically wraps around you. it’s like muscle memory at this point

has your name engraved into his key chain on his keys

ALWAYS helps out with dinner whenever he’s home, despite you constantly telling him to get the fuck out and relax for a bit. ends up in him dancing with you in the kitchen

his showers are like, the ideal temperature- perfect for you to just hop in with him. he never minds and rather welcomes it

ALWAYS SURPRISES YOU FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!! goes absolutely FULL out, waking you up with kisses on your shoulder, an expensive outfit you’ve had your eye on for a while, extravagant dinner and a nice little stroll in the park at night. switches it up every year so you never know what’s coming

has you as his emergency contact for sure

plays old rock songs in the car. causes you to make fun of him and call him an old american dad - even though you definitely don’t actually like the song. definitely

C. REDFIELD

i just KNOW this man can be out sass you during arguements. growing up with claire certainly prepared him for that

he’s gone quite most of the time, so he makes sure to spend as much time as possible with you whenever he can

recently saw this thing where it was an ex military with his kids, where he’s shouting out orders like a drill sergeant during bath time. chris. it just screams chris.

— “I’M PUTTING SHAMPOO IN YOUR HAIR, DO NOT OPEN YOUR EYES! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

— “OK!”

just imagine hearing that every time it’s his turn with bath time. just constant giggles and shouts (if there r kids ofc)

you and claire are CLOSE. chris has made sure of that, definitely introduced you two once he knew it was getting serious

regrets it at times, as whenever something happens at home with the two of you - no matter how stupid the arguement may hve been claire is always the first to know. and always the first to knock some sense into her brother

wears hawaiian dad shirts in summer. for a fact.

like carlos, runs SO WARM. feels as though he’s an actual bear and has genuine fur on him keeping him so warm

sleeps flat on his back, arms by his sides. usually a very light sleeper but at times absolutely nothing will wake him up. you’re free to roll around all over him, strew your legs out over him and he’ll simply stay lying on his back like always. hands by his sides and the only indication of him actually being alive being the rise and fall of his chest

his appetite is absolutely outrageous. you best believe whatever you make is being absolutely devoured, he loves your cooking. sometimes all he needs is some home cooked dinner to put a smile on his face

he will genuinely let you do almost anything to him. you wanna massage his back? sure. do a face mask on him? alright, but no photos. wax a patch of hair on his leg? did it before, never letting you do it again. he has a hard time saying no to you - he’s lost too much people, he needs to make the most of his time with you

#ೃ⁀➷. olka’s bs #is this ooc IDC!!!#resident evil #resident evil 3 #resident evil 5 #resident evil 4 #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield

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daddy-dotcom · 11 months ago

Text

Bet on Me

Spencer Reid x Sugarbaby Reader

Spencer Reid never loses, especially when the prize is you.

Summary: Reader is a sugar baby for Reid's opponent, and he bets a night with her if he loses to Reid.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v, bj, swearing ig?

----------------------------------------------

This wasn't the first time he'd done this. Granted, the Boss only did it when he was losing a lot of money and needed to sacrifice his "lucky charm." However, this was the first time he bet me and lost, to a man half his age nonetheless. I never liked being used as a gambling chip, but he lost so rarely that I didn't dwell on it too much. The man he was playing only gave us his first name, Spencer, and damn was he good. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was counting the cards. He was slightly cocky, but not in the way that the Boss's usual opponents were. He knew he was good, but he wasn't arrogant. There was an air of confidence to him, almost as if he was guaranteed to win, which was exactly what he did. I'd never seen the Boss this upset before, practically throwing a tantrum on the casino floor. But Spencer won fair and square, more specifically, he had won me.

Under normal circumstances, he would have bet on me as a last resort against some other equally sleazy old man. He would have won and I wouldn't have to worry about the idea of sleeping with a man who I didn't know and who had zero respect for boundaries. While the Boss wasn't exactly in his prime anymore, at least he paid me well and we had strict boundaries in place. But whenever he bet on me, I had no idea what I would be getting into. Something about Spencer being young immediately eased my nerves, especially since he was so lanky and boyish. He was probably close to my age, but you would never be able to tell because he looked like he was barely old enough to be gambling.

"Just go on and get it over with, doll, I'll pick you up in the morning," the Boss said irritably.

I made my way over to Spencer, who was the only one left sitting at the poker table. He sat quite awkwardly for a man who had just swept the entire table. All of the confidence from before had completely melted away.

"Well it looks like I'm yours for the night, Spencer. I'm (Y/N) by the way."

I leaned against the poker table, making sure to show off my best assets. If I was going to have to spend the night with him, I at least wanted to have some fun. Between my day job and being a part-time sugar baby, I didn't have the time or energy to date much. So I planned on taking full advantage of the situation. Even if I didn't end up sleeping with Spencer, there was something about him that made me want to get to know him.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)" he said, and I could tell he was avoiding my gaze. This was most likely because from where he was sitting, his line of sight was directly at my boobs.

"C'mon Spencer, let me buy you a drink."

"Shouldn't I be the one buying you a drink?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Looks like you need it more than I do, pretty boy." I said with a smile as I pulled him by the hand towards the bar.

------------

"I'm not a hooker by the way. Just putting that out there . . ." I said, suddenly matching Spencer's awkwardness.

"I figured as much," he replied before taking a sip of his drink. "You're very well dressed and your jewelry is definitely real. Which could mean you're a high-end prostitute, which isn't uncommon for Vegas, but your relationship is too close for him to just be a repeat customer. So I assumed you were either a sugar baby or a trophy wife."

"Wow. You got all that just by watching us?"

"It's kind of my job."

"You a PI or something? What kind of job allows you to pick up on all that Mr...?"

"Reid. And it's Dr. Reid actually. I work in the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI."

"No kidding! You? The lanky yet mysterious card counter who hasn't looked me in the eye this entire conversation, works for the FBI?"

“Yes and for the record, I wasn’t counting the cards. . .at least not this time,” he said with the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Feeling a little tipsy, I replied by saying "you know, around here that acronym FBI usually stands for Female-"

"Body Inspector, yes I'm familiar with the joke. I grew up getting my head dunked in the toilet by bullies wearing those cheap souvenir shirts from Circus Circus"

"Ah so you're a local too?"

“Yes ma’m, Las Vegas born and raised,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. I took the opportunity to ask him another question.

“So do you have me figured out yet, pretty boy?”

“Well I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he said while finally looking me right in the eyes, “so that leads me to the conclusion that you are a sugar baby.”

I could tell the effects of the alcohol were starting to creep to the surface because he wouldn’t break eye contact with me and his body began leaning towards me when he spoke instead of away. He was less guarded and almost flirtatious, in his own adorable way.

“Ding ding ding, you got me Dr. Reid. I, uh, work as a lab assistant during the day but being his sugar baby is helping with the crushing weight of my student debt.”

“I’m sorry that you have to spend your evenings with that jerk, (Y/N). That was mostly my motivation for accepting his offer to bet on you. I hope you know I wasn’t planning on taking advantage of you or anything, I just wanted to give you a night off from your boss.”

My gaze softened and I tried to push away the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes.

“That was the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time, Spencer. Thank you,” I said, gently placing a hand on his thigh.

I saw a wave of crimson begin to appear on his cheeks and he flashed me a smile before saying, “It was my pleasure. I don’t mean to brag but I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, all of this to say I’m pretty good at cards.”

“Wow! Handsome and smart? Guess you’re not the only one who hit the jackpot tonight,” I said while raising my eyebrows, “but I don’t see a ring on your finger either, Dr. Reid. You’re alone at a bar in Vegas with a pretty girl, so I’m assuming you don’t have anyone waiting for you back home?” I asked, suddenly very interested to know if this smart and adorably sweet man was single.

“So you’ve been profiling me too,” he said with a chuckle, “to answer your question, no I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend or anything like that,” he said, almost enthusiastically. Taking that as a sign, I quickly asked,

“Would you want to come upstairs with me? I just feel so comfortable talking to you and technically you still have the rest of the night with me,” I said with pleading eyes.

“Um . . .sure!” he said with both hesitation and excitement, which I’m assuming is because his desire is going against his better judgment as an FBI agent.

“You agreed to that awfully fast for someone who works for the FBI.”

“I’m not worried. I’ve been watching my drink the entire night, and I’ve been profiling you, remember?”

At this point, we were both beaming at each other like a couple of idiots; I had to stop myself from yanking this man’s arm making a run for the elevator.

———

"It's nice to be with a guy who doesn't have an AARP card for once."

"Actually, it’s a common misconception that the service is limited to people 50 and over. You can apply for a membership once you turn 18," he rambled, causing me to giggle.

"You're cute," I replied, placing a hand on the inner part of his thigh. We stayed there for a moment, our eyes fixed on one another with a blush creeping up on Spencer's cheeks. I could see his Adam's apple bob as he gulped, and I could almost swear the crotch of his pants looked tighter than before.

"W-we don't have to do anything you know," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"I know. . . " I said as I leaned in close, "but what if I want to?"

I took a chance and pressed my lips to his. I let them linger there to gauge his reaction before going any further, not wanting to scare the poor man away. After a few seconds, he didn't pull away and I took the quickened pace of his breathing as a sign to kiss him more. I began slowly at first and his lips followed my lead. To my surprise, he brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in my hair and I moaned into his mouth at the contact. Our kisses quickly became hungry and passionate, and there was no denying the now obvious bulge in his pants. I moved my hand from his thigh and began rubbing him over his pants. This time, he was the one who let out a groan, the sound of which motivated me to force my tongue into his mouth. He tightened his grip on my hair, but I pulled away to tend to his growing erection. He remained seated on the edge of the bed as I dropped to my knees in front of him.

"Y-you don't have to-" he stuttered with wide eyes.

"Spencer, it's okay, I want to."

He didn't protest further and I began to unbuckle his belt. I unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear just enough to let his cock free. I wrapped my hand around the base and began to jerk him, causing him to hiss at the contact. I teased him a little by licking the tip of his dick before I placed his entire length, or as much of him as I could fit, in my mouth.

"Oh my god” he groaned, with his eyes screwed shut. I continued to bob my head up and down his cock, his hand finding that familiar place in my hair where he began to tug again. My. pace was purposefully slow, dragging out each suck to earn a moan from Spencer. It was thrilling to be in control of the situation for once. As I sped up my motions, his hands were practically ripping the strands from my head. The wetness pooling between my legs was becoming too much to ignore, so I released my grip on Spencer's cock and used his thighs to push myself back up from my spot on the floor.

"Spencer. . ." I whined, planting myself onto his lap, "I need you."

I took his hand and guided him to the heat between my legs. I shimmied up my dress to allow him to feel the wetness that now soaked my panties. We both let out a gasp as his fingers became slick at the touch.

"It's been a while since anyone's made me feel like this," I admitted. I felt safe in his presence, especially since judging by his reactions, he doesn't do this very often either.

“I-I don’t have a-,"

“Don’t worry, I’m 90% sure we’re both clean and I’m on the pill. Trust me I’m not trying to scam you for child support or anything.”

I could feel his body relax underneath me after reassuring him. I pressed my lips to his once again, our kiss more sensual and intimate than before. Seizing the rare opportunity to be on top, I had one hand on his shoulder for support and the other on his dick to line him up with my entrance. It was almost dizzying how good it felt as I finally sank down onto his length.

“Oh god, Spencer.”

I buried my face into the crook of his neck, completely overwhelmed by the few of him stretching me out. Once I was comfortable, I slowly began rocking my hips. We were a mess of breathy moans and strings of profanities escaped my lips as I began bouncing on his cock.

“Fuck Spence, you you’re so big.”

It’s always the skinny, shy guys.

“(Y/N) you feel so good,” he grunted as he bucked his hips up in an attempt to fuck me even harder. After observing his reactions to my every move so far, I knew he wasn’t going to last long. But he was fucking me so good that I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Yes baby keep fucking me like that.”

His hips continued with their relentless pace and our bodies slammed against each other again and again. It wasn’t much longer until his thrusts became sloppy and he finished inside of me with one last resounding groan. We stayed that way for a while, just grateful for the intimate connection. Once we finally caught our breath, I spoke up.

“Well you still have a few hours with me Dr. Reid, what do you propose we do?” I said with a smirk.

“We should probably go to bed, I have to catch my flight back to D.C. in the morning. . . but maybe after we do that again.”

“I’m all yours Spencer.”

————————————————————————

Not 100% confident about this one but lmk what y'all think :) thanks fro all the love so far besties

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #mgg #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler

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breadinanutshell · 1 year ago

Text

I made a list of Halsin facts for my own entertainment a while back but forgot to post it. Dunno if anyone would find this interesting but in case here it is, enjoy~ o/

ACT1

-He writes in tight scribbles, smokes the pipe and loves reading (likely non-fiction). He’s the studious sort, considering his unprompted interest in the parasites and his hunger for knowledge. This aspect of him was more defined in Early Access but sadly got lost during full release. It also briefly comes up during one of his banters in later chapters.

-He rarely drinks: he’s a lightweight and gets overly affectionate when drunk. He also sings when drunk. Badly, per his word.

-Is an actual Disney princess (he has birds scouting and reporting back to him).

-He has a strong sense of duty, so much so he will stop paying attention to other aspects of his life in the pursuit of it. At least in one instance, this has been depicted as a flaw (when he abandons the grove looking for the Nightsong).

-He enjoys spending time in his bear form, and appears to have been the main caretaker for the bears in the grove. Ormn in particular acts heartbroken that Halsin is missing.

-When given the chance, he’s eager to give up his position as archdruid, as he felt it was too draining and confining. Despite his insecurities in his ability as a leader, he’s more shrewd and wise than he lets on: he can play politics when necessary. And people around him have been more than happy to rely on him. He cares about those under his protection. A lot. “The grove is everything to me”.

-He doesn’t shy away from violence when provoked.

-He feels responsible for the shadow curse, and is compelled by the need to fix everything.

-This is a relic from Early Access but you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands: in the grove there used to be a fanfic titled “Shadow’s Kiss” written by the druid Roan that featured a certain “Balsin”. At the end of it a written entry by Halsin would threaten to feed Roan to Ormn if he ever saw the name “Balsin” again.

ACT2

-He likes open spaces, reading and whittling utensils and ornaments (ducks in particular). He’s got a sweet tooth and a fondness for honey. He finds it hurtful when he's made fun of for his interests: he admits people tend to underestimate his sensitivity.

-He’s a very religious man and invokes Silvanus any chance he gets. Even so he doesn’t believe in blind faith and chides Shadowheart for not questioning Shar’s teachings.

-He’s 350 years old.

-He has no mercy for goblins, to the point where he disapproves if you spare them in Moonrise. A bit funny, considering there’s a banter later on with Karlach where he insists that “mercy costs us nothing”.

-His scars were caused by a bear who didn’t appreciate being spurned during mating season.

-He’s a veteran who served in the battle against Ketheric Thorm in Reithwin, where eventually the druids and Harpers won. At the time he was likely second to the archdruid that led him into battle. When the shadow curse started spreading, said archdruid died, leaving Halsin in charge. He immediately evacuated the survivors. He still feels guilty for not being able to help more that day. From one of his party banters it’s clear Halsin suffers from survivor’s guilt. He’s lost many friends to the curse, so many in fact that “it would take a day and a night to recite the names of the fallen”.

-Considering how obsessed he’s been with the curse ravaging the land for the past 100 years, it’s unlikely he had any intimate connections during this period of time. He also claims that more good has been done since meeting Tav than in the 100 years before their meeting.

-His family is dead and buried at the foot of the Grandfather Tree in High Forest.

-He seems used to changing environments and affiliations. Once recruited, he’s quick to call Tav his new family.

-He remains polite in the face of scorn and ridicule. Right when he joins if you suggest all he’s good for is cleaning camp he responds with an awkward chuckle and a “wherever you need me”. Later in Act 3 his affections can be brusquely turned down by comparing him to a deep rothé, to which he calmly responds “a simple no would have sufficed”.

-As a child he befriended Thaniel, a spirit of nature, and ever since then he felt a higher calling. Thaniel appears to be as fond of Halsin as Halsin is of Thaniel, mentioning him often to Fist Art Cullagh during their imprisonment in the Shadowfell.

-He is the only expert of shadow curse alive, and if killed in Act 1 the curse cannot be lifted.

ACT3

-He believes himself, or at the very least aims to be, a protector. Any failure (or perceived failure) in fulfilling said role leads him to spirals of self doubt and insecurity. His self worth is heavily dependent on how useful he can be, and without a big purpose or mission to fulfill, he appears lost. In the same vein he seems incapable of staying still and relax, he always needs something to focus on.

-In true druid spirit, he considers cities to be intruding on nature’s realm. On his arrival to Baldur’s Gate, he's appalled and disgusted by the class inequality encountered in the city. He’s disturbed by the suffering of children, in particular.

-When called naive for his dream of a better future he mentions he gave up cynicism when he was 200 years old.

-He’s all for heckling Dribbles’ corny jokes.

-He sees his body as a vessel and his physical prowess as a tool. He takes no pride in it.

-He admits that he didn’t realize how much his responsibilities had been weighting on him until Tav showed up and took that burden away.

-He’s polyamorous, and pretty lax when it comes to sex and relationships: he has no qualms in taking pleasure where “desire finds purchase”. He mentions that he had many lovers in the past and that his heart doesn’t stir lightly. This might imply he’s laid with many, but cared for few. He also doesn’t appear thrilled by the prospect of marriage/tying yourself forever to someone. For a man so against putting a relationship into words, he acts incredibly smitten when romanced and showers his partner in all kinds of sweet praises.

-He’s so attuned to his wildshape that he tends to lose control of his transformations when overcome by strong emotions (i.e. anger, arousal). He appears embarrassed when this accidentally happens in an intimate situation. He does enjoy wildshape during intercourse though, as he even proposes it himself during an interaction with Shadowheart. Per his word, he doesn’t discriminate against any type: in an interaction with Lae'zel he implies he slept with a chimera.

-He considers lust to be the most essential of impulses and feels it’s only natural to be guided by it.

-He’s travelled far and wide. Where we do not know, unfortunately. He mentions he’s been to the Underdark many times and possibly the Nelanther Isles. In his youth he ventured into the Underdark to sate his own wanderlust, where he got captured, enslaved and sexually abused by drows for 3 years.

-He’s self aware of his obsession with nature. When Jaheira warns him not to fall into druid stereotypes, he comments that he does think about other topics such as high art and politics, but to him nothing compares to a tree.

-When speaking of his past, he comments that people seem to focus on the more “salacious chapters” and disregard his years of study. When confronted about it, he seems perfectly content with a life spent studying, meditating, counselling, fighting, training and fucking.

-He used to hibernate as a bear and mentions he spent at least 100 years of his life sleeping. It’s unclear if he’s still in the habit.

-At the end of the campaign he sets out to create a new community in Reithwin with the victims of war and refugees that were turned away from the city. The children of this soon-to-be-founded community refer to him as “daddy Halsin”.

-He considers himself an exceedingly patient man.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #bg3 spoilers #long post #brainrot be real #i might have missed stuff #but i tried to be as thorough as i could #if you want confirmation feel free to ask

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themultifanshipper · 6 months ago

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howdy my friend how are you. quick question. elaborate on the whole "sometimes lando likes being the one getting railed" because aw fuck i can't get the thought of him just. completely fucked out. ruined. curls everywhere. face flushed. legs trembling bc it feels so good. tears down his cheeks and he's saying "too much too much" but when you try to pull away he just grabs you back bc he can't have another ruined orgasm. poor boy is a mess but edging him is just so fun :((((

Sort of a follow-up to this and that lando blurb.

When Lando's in a subby mood there's no getting around it. He will spend all his time trying to rile you up to get you to fuck him.

Warnings: gn!reader , sub!lando, overstimulation, dacryphilia? multiple orgasms, bit of subspace, aftercare

He'll quietly crawl onto your lap while you're working, not unlike a cat, looking for attention.

But once he has what he wants, which is you pounding into him from behind, he won't shut up for a single second.

His whines are loud as fuck, and when you find his prostate they quickly turn into shrill cries of despair. He is very sensitive, even to the light touches along his back or his arse. He always comes at least once on your fingers while you open him up, before you've even got a chance to slide into him.

You tried to edge him a few times, but even without much stimulation he would just come all over himself anyway, so you quickly took to overstimulating him instead.

He'll buck and whine as you fuck him hard immediately, but he got himself into this situation by being a needy little bitch so you carry on at the pace you want, sometimes teasing him by going so slowly that he falls apart without you doing much of anything.

Your hands are always firmly planted in his hair, pulling, making him arch his back as tears run down his cheeks but he just keeps begging and taking it like a champ, letting you bend his body any which way you choose. Usually these moods come when he's had a bad weekend or if he's a bit stressed and needs to let go. And that's exactly what he does, as he lets you bend him over every surface, giving him everything you've got and more as he begs like a slut for it.

Once he actually starts sobbing you start to pull out but his hands quickly fly to anything he can hold on to, to stop you from leaving him. Grabbing harshly onto your hips to keep you inside, not knowing his own strength as you're forced (but willing) to comply to his every demand. Not that he needs to demand, or even ask politely, this state just comes naturally to him, and you’re more than happy to please him.

“Please” and “Uggghhh” are the only things he's capable of saying because the pleasure is just so intense, too much but too little at the same time and it will ruin him if you stop. His eyes will roll back into his skull as it overwhelms his entire body, from your hands in his hair, down to his toes, as his body thrums with electricity, like a live wire that you're tapping into.

After a few orgasms he'll just go limp and pliant, still begging, like his body was just made to take it as it opens up for you, to take and use for your own pleasure.

Those are the times where Lando needs a bit of help coming back to the present with soft touches and kisses all over his body. Having him so vulnerable is an absolute privilege, and you take care of him for hours after, making sure he drinks, has a snack and a nice bubble bath before he's allowed to go to sleep.

On the verys rare occasions where he's not bent over, he'll ride you just to show you how good he is for you as he sets his own pace, hips stuttering at the unusual angle. Being a professional athlete means that he will always try to push himself by going for hours, his boundaries often ignored in favour of his pleasure so you need to observe carefully for when he starts cramping up or slowing down out of exhaustion. That's when you'll turn him over and pound into him from above as he pants into your mouth, clinging onto you and babbling nonsense like “I love you” and “So good to me” as you stroke him slowly to completion one last time before pulling out and going to get the water and snacks.

You two are unhinged for each other, but whoever’s turn it is to be a whore for the night, you both know you'll be cared for in the best way.

#my thots #lando thots #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #f1 #formula 1 #gn reader

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aquaquadrant · 9 months ago

Text

Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing.

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…”

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’.

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.”

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop.

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second.

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it?

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

“... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is.

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #scarian #my writing #listen i am only a casual phasmo enjoyer and idk anything about architecture school pls don't come for me abt any inaccuracies #just here for a good gay spooky time #wanted to see if i'd be any good at writing commissions (ie. solely based off someone else's idea) and i had FUN #but it's always easy to be inspired by mel <3

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year ago

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𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝: 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

Character Choice: Leviathan x Fem! Reader

Stats: nsfw/ minors dni, jealous/ possessive! levi, cream pies, monster/tail fucking, mean dom! levi, levi with two cocks, degradation/ name calling, marking, double penetration, unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!), hint of/ alllusion to exhibitionism towards the end

Profile: It’s not fair! Why do his stupid brothers get to hog your attention all the time? He’ll make sure you’ll pay attention to him and only him. You’re not leaving his room for quite a while; there’s lots of fun stuff Levi wants to try with you. And when you do limp out of his room, his brothers will certainly get the message.

this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!

obey me masterlist || sfw version

You had been playing video games with Levi for a while now, comfortably sitting in his lap with his chin resting on your head. And so far, everything had been super relaxed. That was until the credits rolled and Levi’s focus started to drift from the screen to you, inhaling the comforting scent of your hair products.

Just for the stench of his brothers to fill his nostrils, clinging to you just as stubbornly as the actual demons. It made him livid, imagining Asmo hanging off your arm, Satan holding you close as he read to you or Belphie using your lap as his personal napping spot. You should be spending time with him!

Before he knew it, pure jealousy was coursing through his veins and his form shifted. Coral-like horns perched on his head like a crown as a scaled tail wrapped around your ankle, slowly winding upwards. His hands, which had held the controller up until now, gripped your hips tightly as he tried to control his breathing.

You’d felt Levi’s envy often enough through the pact linking you two together. Whether it was losing the bid on a figurine he wanted or seeing someone else with the character he tried to get, the feeling wasn’t new to you. But this time, the sensation was overwhelming, his pact mark on your body searing with his jealousy. Normally, you could console him easily enough but right now you weren’t so sure.

“Levi? Levi are you alright? What’s wrong?” you questioned, one hand coming up to thread into his purple locks as you tried to shift so you could face him. Only to be stopped by his iron grip. You could, however, get a glimpse of his orange-flashing eyes, pupils merely slits. “Levi, I’m worried-”

“Oh, now you care?” His tone was cold and sent shivers down your spine, rare determination falling from every word. “What’s wrong, you ask? Maybe it’s the fact that you’re always so busy cosying up to all my brothers. Even that scumbag gets more of your attention than I do.”

Levi knew deep inside that wasn’t true. You always spent plenty of time with him. Then, Lucifer’s cologne tickled his nose and he lost all sense of rationality, thoughts only fueled by his sin. When he spoke again, his words were like pure venom dripping from his fangs. “Did you have fun? Letting them get their grimey hands all over you?”

“No, Levi, I-” You interrupted yourself with a sudden gasp as sharp teeth sank into the column of your neck, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to leave a nasty, very visible mark. Still, you couldn’t help but grind yourself back on him, feeling his prominent bulge against your ass. You almost drooled at the inhuman size of him, mind wandering to how good he’d stretch you open on that.

“Enjoying yourself?” He hissed while pressing you down harder, rubbing himself against your clothed pussy. Searching for something to ground yourself with, you reached back and dug your fingers into his hair as you rolled your head back to give Levi more access to your neck. “Look at you, you’re actually getting off to this. You’re so easy, no wonder demons like you so much.”

Much to your embarrassment, you could feel the arousal staining your panties at his harsh words. There was no use denying it, this side of your usually timid Levi was heavily turning you on, so much so that you could feel yourself pulsing against the straining material of his sweats. Somehow, that realisation just made you squirm against him more, searching desperately for any sort of friction.

It came in the form of his tail flicking forcefully against your core, not enough to seriously hurt you but definitely hard enough to mix pain with pleasure. Levi took advantage of your moan to tip your head back and shove his forked tongue down your throat. At the same time, his clawed hands roughly groped your breasts over your RAD dress shirt, certainly leaving red marks for you to find later. Apparently that wasn’t enough for the demon though, carelessly ripping the material apart and making buttons roll over the floor of his room.

Your bra was next. Although he didn’t destroy it, he merely pulled it down enough to where your breasts could spill over the cups, further driving home the point that this wasn’t about you. This was only for him and his pleasure.

As his fingers meanly pulled at your nipples, tweaking the little buds and rolling them between his digits, his tail had stopped prodding at your slit and instead slithered under the waistband of your bottoms. With it pressed against your body like that, it really had no option but to rub over your clit as it reached for your undergarments.

Just when you thought Levi would really have you ruin your clothes, he pushed them off your legs to give his tail free reign to work. As the appendage curled around the seat of your panties to pull them off as well, it grazed your folds and you lightly jerked in your demon’s hold.

Said demon had gone back to biting and licking at your neck, his eyes following the string of arousal sticking to your underwear with rapt attention. The fact that he could reduce you to this state so easily was definitely an ego boost but he was nowhere near satiated with just this.

“I think it’s time I remind you who you really belong to,” he snarled, voice bitter as he could still smell them on you. “Once I’m done with you, nobody will ever forget it again.”

Without so much as a warning, Levi plunged the end of his tail into your soaked core, earning something between a shriek and a moan from you. The initial clamp down of your walls around his scales drew a shaky groan from him in return, squeezing your tits harder in his palms.

His tail was curling and uncurling inside of you in unreadable patterns as he stretched you out gradually. The texture of his cold scales was something you never grew used to as they scraped against your warm walls, the tip effortlessly hitting spots you never knew you had.

In record time, Levi had you writhing and squirming in his lap and he chose to make it worse by slipping one hand down your front to ruthlessly tap your pulsing clit. The noises you made drove him nearly insane with lust but he willed himself to patience, as far as that was still possible.

“That’s it, you’re gonna cum,” he all but ordered, fingers and tail pressing down on the same spot on opposite sides of your walls. “And your orgasm is gonna be all mine, you got that?”

“Yes, Levi,” you whined, eyes screwed shut and fingers tightening around his wrist and his purple locks.

“Then do it,” he spoke directly against your ear.

You straightened in his hold as lightning shot up your spine, the thicker part of his tail keeping your legs nicely spread while he flicked his fingers harsher against your clit.

Then, your bones turned to pudding as you weightlessly leaned back against Levi’s clothed chest, feeling your release leak around his tail. You tried to control your breathing with little success. A hand swept sweat matted hair out of your eyes while a second one ran up and down your side to provide a familiar comfort.

But soon, your world shifted as you fell forward, your fall only cushioned by a hand on your chest before your cheek met one of Levi’s many pillows, which had previously not laid there. Behind you, the demon rose to his knees as well, his thighs colliding with your ass.

You whined as the movements of his tail started again, much slower than before though. He shushed you almost gently, yet when you pushed yourself up on weak arms to look back at him, one hand firmly pressed your upper back onto the floor again.

“Be good and behave.” Levi’s cold voice made you shiver in the best way possible and this time he could feel the way you clamped down on him at his command. “Seriously, I thought between us I was the perv but seeing you let me use you like this without any resistance makes me question that.”

There was rustling of clothes to be heard and you almost protested the withdrawal of his tail but the pressure of his pre cum leaking cocks against you shut you right up. No matter how often you two got frisky, you wondered every time how they were supposed to fit.

As much as Levi wanted to see you choke on his cock while attempting to wrap your hand around the other, he was far too impatient. He needed to stretch you open now.

Aligning the head of his upper dick, he heaved a sigh before pushing in. Just feeling your heat around the tip made him lightheaded but before he could get carried away, he remembered why you two were in this position in the first place.

In one single thrust, the demon filled you to the brim, knocking all air from your lungs as you were shoved into the pillow. Despite having two members to work with, taking just one was still quite the challenge. It hurt but at the same time it felt so good.

With his demeanour that night, you thought he’d set a ruthless pace from the start but he surprised you with tempered and measured thrusts, aiming for depth rather than speed. Your shoulders tensed up when you felt his tail return, this time however circling your other hole.

“Levi-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this, I can feel that messy cunt of yours gripping me even tighter.” And he was right. Just the imagination of Levi using his tail, which was still coated in your previous release, to prepare you for what was inevitably to come had you bounce your hips back on him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re supposed to be my master, yet you’re acting more like a bitch in heat, already going dumb on my cock.”

Apparently now it was time for your bra to leave the scene completely as Levi fumbled with the clasp for a second before carelessly throwing it somewhere into his room.

The fact that he was still fully clothed whereas you were completely nude made you feel excitingly exposed, fire burning through your body at the thought of Levi just having your way with you like this.

It should have been embarrassing how your pussy squelched with his cock inside, how fast you were approaching another orgasm, but with Levi leaning more of his weight onto you as he seemed to reach deeper in both your cunt and ass, you were more concerned with trying to sustain your lungs with enough air.

Well, it wasn’t like you had to tell him you were close anyway. The way it got harder to move in and out or the way your legs started trembling gave you away. With his cocks hitting your g-spot and clit on every forward motion as your walls were sandwiched on both sides between him, it was clear you’d reach your peak sooner rather than later.

Your high pitched moans echoed around the room and Levi’s guttoral groans soon joined as he starved off his own release to fuck you through yours. At this point, your vision turned hazy but you couldn’t help but want more. And more you should get.

Through the fog of your mind, you barely registered the moment of emptiness and Levi’s biting words were drowned out by your own heartbeat pulsing in your ears. What you did notice was the sensation of two cocks stuffing you to your limit, both heads throbbing with a desperate need to just stuff you full of his cum.

The view of you on your elbows and knees, back arched and fingers a death grip on his pillow rushed directly to his head and to his dicks. He was the one who had reduced to such a pathetically fucked out state, unable to speak any coherent sentences. Not his brothers.

“Do you just whore yourself out to everyone?” Sharp claws were dancing up your spine, the layer of sweat reflecting the blue light of his room. The thought of his brothers getting just a glimpse of you like this made his earlier rage flare up again.

“N-No,” you whimpered meekly.

“No? Just the demons you know?” His still clothed chest met your back as his hands held your hips in an iron grip, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. His fangs were grazing your skin again, searching for a new spot to leave his mark on. “If Mammon were here, would you let him fuck this messy cunt of yours, hm? Would you gag on Belphie’s cock like a slut, yeah? Let him push your head down as he pleases?”

You didn’t answer this time, not that he really expected you to. Normally, Levi might have intertwined your fingers or pressed a sweet kiss to your temple. But not on this day.

“C’mon, you can be louder than that, slut.” Purple coloured nails tangled in your hair and pulled your head up. “Let everyone in this house who’s fucking you this good.”

Nothing he had to tell you twice. You felt so full, every sensitive spot you could think of and all those you didn’t know you had were being abused over and over again.

What had you screaming and scrambling for purchase was the pain of his fangs piercing the skin of your shoulder as his tail wrapped around your middle, the tip resting dangerously close to your sensitive clit after dragging through the slick mess staining your thighs.

“You’re close again, right?” That was when his tail started circling your pulsing nub and your eyes flew open as the knot in your stomach started pulling you into opposite directions once more. “That’s right, you're just a little toy for me to use, aren’t you? Just an obedient cocksleeve waiting to get stuffed.”

To emphasise his point, your expression was reflected back to you on one of his shiny consoles, eyes fluttering open and shut as your tongue lolled out and drool dripped from your lips, head still pulled back.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Levi cursed out of breath, cocks twitching against your walls as the slapping of skin picked up in speed. Letting your head fall forward again, both hands gripped your hips tightly, nails nicking your skin.

“I’m so close, please I can’t—“ You couldn’t decide if you were begging to cum or to rest.

Your demon made the choice for you. He drew quicker circles on your abused clit, pressing his scales down harsher, which had your toes curling and your hips trying to wind away from the assault.

“Stop squirming!” Pulling your hips back to meet his strokes, you weren’t sure if Levi was trying to make you cum again or if he was just selfishly chasing his own release with all means possible. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’ll be a good human and not waste a drop. Once we’re done, you’ll only smell like me!”

Mindlessly nodding your head, you fell over the edge with a scream of his name, shuddering and jerking as his pace didn’t slow at all. Maybe it was because you were so out of it but you could swear you could feel his cocks swell before his hips stuttered and he painted your walls white with a throaty groan.

There was no chance you could ever keep all of his cum inside, no matter how deep he shot it. You were pretty sure no human could ever cum this much.

For a few minutes there was nothing but panting to be heard before he finally pulled out, the bite marks on your shoulders pulsing as the adrenaline wore off. Levi stared as his cum leaked out of you and ran down your trembling thighs, collecting the drops with the tip of his tail before pushing them back into you. You moaned weakly at the clench of your overstimulated walls around the appendage but just as you were wondering whether you could handle another round, the chime of your phones echoed through Levi’s room.

Satan @ House of Lamentation (New): Dinner in 5, get down here

Just as you were about to push yourself up on shaky arms, Levi’s hand on your upper back kept your chest on the floor.

“What are you doing? We don’t have time, we need to get cleaned up,” you protested.

Without a word, Levi wrangled your ankles into your panties again and slid them back up your thighs. Snapping the waistband, he gave your clothed cunt a final slap and innerly gloated at the way your combined release was soaking the already ruined fabric.

With widened eyes, you looked back over your shoulder to see if he was serious only to find him staring at you with a fierce look in his eyes, daring you to challenge him.

“I told you, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

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shixcherie · 1 month ago

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Sharing Is Caring | Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 15 : Cuckholding

↬ [ Synopsis ] : After hearing his precious angel struggling with loneliness in his absence, Hongjoong suggest a solution. That solution is Park Seonghwa. Will he be your one-stop remedy, or will someone become possessive along the way?

☆Word Count : 2.5k ☆Genre : Smut, Idol Au. ☆Pairing : Fiance! Hongjoong x F.Reader x Park Seonghwa

☆☆☆WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), rough sex, edging, overstimulation, cuckholding, praise, neck bites, unprotected sex ( be careful pls), emotional talk, mild friends with benefits, dom Hongjoong, switch Seonghwa and sub reader, possessive Joong, pet names (angel, baby). {lemme know if I missed it }

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me but Day 15 is here with our Matz duo ma cheries. Hope you enjoy it. Its kinda written in a hurry so I apologize for any mistakes. Nonetheless, Hope you love it so much lovelies.

You are his fiancée, but Hongjoong doesn’t even have a moment to spare for you. He sleeps in his studio, his days consumed by producing, photoshoots, and practice, and he’s rarely home. At first, you understood and respected his work ethic and the responsibilities that came with being a leader. But now, as his fiancée, with the two of you soon walking down the aisle, promising to spend your whole lives together, you’re on the verge of questioning this choice all over again.

That’s when Seonghwa entered your life.

Seonghwa had always been there as a member of ATEEZ, but there were a few things you hadn’t realized. For starters, Seonghwa definitely had his eyes on you and eagerly took the chance when Hongjoong mentioned your loneliness to him.

What could have been a simple “friends with benefits” situation turned into something much more spicy and fun. Park Seonghwa, with his irritating empathy, absurdly good looks, and exceptional ability to handle you while perfectly understanding your pace, had you on your knees for him.

Boy that was difficult conversation, though!

—

Finally, after a long day, Hongjoong was home, holding you in his warm embrace. It felt like ages since you’d last been this close cuddling together on the couch. You were itching to have the conversation with him, but with each passing moment, it became harder to find the words as you grew more and more anxious. This could go very badly, but you didn’t know when you’d get another chance to have this important conversation.

So you decided to just go for it.

“Joong… there’s something I need to talk about….” you began carefully, rehearsing the words in your head for the hundredth time.

“Yeah, honey?” he responded, eyes closed, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

“Umm… it’s just… we hardly get to spend time together like this anymore. I-I understand your responsibilities as the leader of ATEEZ, and…and I respect that. I’m not at all saying you should leave everything just to spend time with me, but… sometimes…well, quite often, actually...” You spoke quickly, trailing off as you hesitated for a moment before sitting up slowly, unsure of how to continue.

Hongjoong sat up too, now fully attentive, his intense yet soft eyes processing everything you were trying to say. He gently caressed your head as you struggled with your words.

“I feel like… this engagement… I don’t know if I can do it. I’m not saying I regret it or anything..” you continued, tears brimming in your eyes.

“You’re feeling lonely,” he finished softly. Gulping, you nodded as a tear escaped, trailing down your cheek.

“I had a feeling. And I’m really sorry…” he whispered.You only nodded, laying your head on his chest.Hongjoong held you close, his voice soft. “I know I haven’t been around much, and it breaks my heart to think that you’ve felt so alone.”

You nodded, the weight of your words still lingering between you.

After a pause, he continued, hesitant. “What if... Seonghwa stepped in? He cares about you, and I trust him. Maybe he could be there for you when I can’t.”

You blinked, heart racing. “Are you suggesting...?”

Hongjoong nodded, brushing the tear from your cheek. 'Let’s put the engagement aside for a while. I just don’t want you to feel lonely anymore.'”

—

Hongjoong knew that leaving his stunning fiancée with an equally handsome man could lead to serious trouble in the future, but it was the only way to fill the loneliness that had taken root in your heart. It seemed to be working though, as you appeared happier and more vibrant than ever.

What had started as a relationship with your consent and Joong’s approval was now taking center stage, overshadowing the true bond between you and Hongjoong.

Seonghwa's once-a-month visits quickly escalated to weekly meetings, and now, with neither of you holding back your lustful desires, those cheeky visits turned into almost daily steamy makeout sessions. Somehow, Seonghwa always managed to adjust his schedule, finding time to be with you.

But someone was definitely feeling a bit possessive. Hongjoong made a mental note to come home early that day.

The day started innocently enough, just you, alone in the house making breakfast as Seonghwa came over to keep you company. It was supposed to be a simple morning with the two of you enjoying breakfast. Just breakfast.

But somehow, things took a wild turn. One moment you were laughing over breakfast, and the next, you were pinned against the kitchen counter as Seonghwa thrust into you.His each thrust was precise as if he was savoring every moment with you. Slow and deliberate, each thrust teased you, making you beg for more. As his pace quickened, his grip tightened, as he pounded into you, like a maniac off leash, gifting you the kind of pleasure which took you to heaven, each stretch of his cock, each thrust hitting the spot, making your mind go blank.

“Hwa… more... don’t stop” you moaned as he decorated your neck with purple bruises, your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and urging him on. Your lips parted with each thrust, his length hitting your cervix so perfectly that your toes curled from the intensity.

“Is my baby loving this? Want more, love?” His voice was soft yet teasing as his lips brush against your jaw.

“God, yes!” you gasped, your body arching into him as his lips left a trail of hot kisses along your jawline. His hips snapped harder, each thrust deeper than the last, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your body trembled as the tension built, every nerve lit up under Seonghwa’s precise rhythm. “Hwa… I-I can’t-t” you stuttered, the pressure overwhelming.

Each of his thrusts threatened to snap the tight knot inside you. You were on the edge, ready to break apart, knowing that when you did, Seonghwa would be there, holding you, carassing you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear with his honey-like voice.

“Oh, but you will.” he murmured darkly, his hips snapping against yours, driving you closer to insanity. His teeth grazed your jaw, sending shivers down your spine as the knot inside you finally snapped. Your breaths turned ragged as you came undone around him, moaning loudly at the intense pleasure coursing through your body, overwhelmed by the maniacal pace and precision Seonghwa had just gifted you.

This! this was what you had been missing. The craving, the slow burn, the sultry pleasure. While quickies with Hongjoong had become routine, you needed something deeper, something that lingered. And Seonghwa was giving you just that, more than you even realized you craved.

As your body trembled, still recovering from the high Seonghwa had just taken you to, you expected a moment to catch your breath. But Seonghwa clearly had other ideas. He smirked as he wrapped your legs around his waist, effortlessly lifting you, carrying you to the couch where the movie you’d planned to watch together played softly on the screen.

“We were supposed to watch this, remember?” you teased, but the glint in his eyes told you the movie wasn’t his focus.

“Oh, we will,” Seonghwa grinned mischievously. “Just in a different way.”

Before you could protest, he had you pinned against the couch, his hands sliding down your thighs as he repositioned himself between your legs. With one swift motion, he was back inside you, making you gasp. His slow, deliberate thrusts contrasted with the background noise of the film, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of him filling you again.

Suddenly, the front door creaked open. Hongjoong stepped in, freezing in the doorway as his eyes took in the scene before him, you sprawled on the couch, Seonghwa thrusting into you with an unbothered smirk on his face.

Seonghwa cocky side immediately showed up. He didn’t stop, not even when Hongjoong entered. Instead, he met Hongjoong's gaze, flashing him a smug smile.

“Guess we couldn’t wait,” Seonghwa smirked, his voice dripping with playful arrogance as he kept thrusting, the rhythm of skin against skin blending with the muted TV in the background.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene, but Seonghwa just chuckled. “Come on, Captain, she needs more than your quick fixes.” he teased, his tone sultry.

His gaze locked onto yours, a wicked gleam in his eyes as you whimpered, caught between overwhelming pleasure and Hongjoong’s silent presence. “She loves being spoiled, doesn’t she?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, the heat of his words igniting the moment. All you could do was respond with breathless moans as you eagerly waited for Hongjoong’s reaction. This was the first time Joong was present while you were being fucked by Seonghwa.

Even if Seonghwa’s attitude was rubbing Hongjoong the wrong way, he was enjoying the sight in front of him a little too much. Seeing his precious angel taken by his mate was something he didn’t know he would enjoy so much. Your pretty moans were the cherry on top, turning him on as he watched the steamy make-out session happening in front of him.

Seonghwa’s cocky smirk faded as Hongjoong stepped closer, his gaze dark and dangerous. “Think you’ve got her all figured out, huh?” Hongjoong’s calm voice carried an unmistakable dash of dominance.

Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned his jacket, tossing it aside before leaning over the couch, his fingers grazing your cheek. His touch was gentle, but the command in his eyes was clear.

“She loves being spoiled,” he murmured as his lips brushed on your forehead pressing a gentle kiss. His thumb slid down to your jaw. “But you forgot one thing, Hwa.” His gaze flicked to Seonghwa, who slowed down at the silent command. “She’s mine to spoil. It’s time I show you how it’s done.”

Hongjoong’s fingers curled possessively around your throat as he whispered, “Ready to let me take over, angel ?” His voice was a low growl as he gently moved your head onto his lap settling sideways on the couch while your body stayed beneath Hwa. “Let’s start with a kiss, shall we?” he suggested, his voice dripping with playful authority as he turned his attention to Seonghwa. “Show her just how steamy, messy and tasty you can be, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa leaned in, his lips finding yours with an urgency that sent heat pooling in your core. The kiss deepened, and you melted against him, completely lost in the warmth of his mouth and the way he kissed you, his tongue exploring the sweet tastes of your mouth, messy yet it was as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Now, my favorite spot,” Hongjoong teased, his tone low and sultry, the way his voice dropped sending a thrill through you. “Just behind her ear. You know how sensitive she is there.” Seonghwa chuckled softly, giving the captain a nod, his lips trailed from yours to the delicate curve of your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that made you shiver with anticipation. Each brush of his lips sent electric tingles cascading down your spine, and Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, clearly turned on by the sight of you succumbing to Seonghwa’s touch.

You just had a steamy make-out session before Hongjoong, but what was happening now was on a whole different level. Hongjoong guiding, more like commanding Seonghwa as he explored you like a treasure map, following every route his captain suggested, moving from one checkpoint to another, finally arriving at the treasure chest, was not something you expected. But you weren’t complaining either. This had to be the best you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Perfect, isn’t she?” Hongjoong murmured, his gaze flickering between you and Seonghwa with a possessive glint. “Now, why don’t you play with my angel a little ?”

Seonghwa’s fingers glided down to your chest, teasingly brushing against your nipple. He rolled it between his fingers, the sensations drawing soft gasps from your lips. Hongjoong watched intently, his breath hitching with each gasp you made. “You like that, don’t you?” Seonghwa teased, his voice a sultry whisper that made your heart race as you gave him a faint smile.

“Mmm, she loves it,” Hongjoong chimed in, a playful smile on his lips, his own arousal was quite evident with how hard he was geeting. “But let’s keep exploring, shall we? How about a kiss on her waist next? Make it slow and sweet.”

Seonghwa’s mouth traveled down, kissing a trail along your waist, his lips warm and tender against your skin. The way he took his time made your breath hitch, anticipation building with each lingering kiss. “You’re such a treasure.” he murmured, making you blush. Hongjoong’s fingers tightened on your throat, the sight igniting a fire within him that was impossible to ignore.

“Now, for the main event,” Hongjoong said, a playful smirk on his face. “Show her what it means to be spoiled. Give her that delicious attention where she craves the most.”

Seonghwa wasted no time, lowering himself to the floor, his mouth finding your core which wwas dripping with sweeet juices, begging for attention. He teased you with slow, deliberate movements, his tongue explored you, each flick and swirl of his tongue had you gasping, pleasure radiating from your center as you whimpered beneath him.

“Look at her, Hwa,” Hongjoong encouraged, his voice thick with desire as he watched the two of you, his own arousal rising with each desperate sound that escaped your lips. “She’s absolutely perfect. Make her feel good, just like she deserves.”

Seonghwa’s mouth worked tirelessly, sending waves of bliss crashing over you, each lick drawing you closer to the edge. “God, you taste divine.” he murmured against you, the vibrations making you quiver, and Hongjoong’s breath caught in his throat, his excitement too hard to ignore as he took his hard cock out, which was rock hard and angry asking for a release.

He took your soft hand and wrapped it around his hard member trying to release some tension while Seonghwa was devouring you.

Seonghwa's tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tasting you in ways that had you speedrunning to the edge. Your body trembled beneath him, each flick of his tongue sending shockwaves through you, while your hand instinctively rubbed Hongjoong's thick length. The heat of the moment had him throbbing in your palm, his breath hitching with every stroke, his head falling back on the couch.

"That’s it, angel. Just like that.." Hongjoong whispered, his voice strained with arousal. He guided your hand as Seonghwa intensified his rhythm, every movement perfectly timed to push you closer. The intense pressure building inside you was impossible to hold back, and finally, with a broken moan, you shattered beneath Seonghwa’s tongue, your release washing over you in waves as you came hard in Seonghwa’s mouth.

While Seonghwa licked you clean of your release, he held your free hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles to soothe you through the aftershocks. Meanwhile, Hongjoong groaned, his hips bucking into your other hand. The heat of the moment overtook him, and he followed soon after, his release spilling into your fingers. The sensual air was thick with shared satisfaction as all three of you were lost in the intense pleasure.

After cleaning up and changing into fresh clothes, the three of you finally settled on the couch, this time actually watching the movie.

You were nestled comfortably in the warm embrace of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Thoughts of the wedding slipped to the back of your mind as you let yourself savor the present, enjoying the quiet comfort of the moment.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

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thediaryofaurora · 4 months ago

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General HCs

Ticci Toby/Tobias Rogers

Sorry this took so long!! I’ve been contemplating writing one shots, but I feel like I should get the head canons out first. If any of you have any ideas for one shots (x readers, char x char, nsfw), my request box is open! I’ll get around to them as soon as possible. :)

- 5’11! Sleeper build and scrawny, but extremely strong upper arms. He’s not as fast as Kate and Brian, but he makes up for it with how long he can run. He never gets tired and can chase victims for hours. Lots of freckles, too!

- White with mostly German heritage. He doesn’t know very much German, just baseline stuff he learned from his mom. (Connie grew up in Germany until she was 15.)

- Medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He’s pretty pale, but being outside most of the time he does have a slight tan, lots of freckles too.

- His dad was extremely abusive and would beat him, his mom, and his sister, it was rare for him to not be drunk. Toby killed him only a few hours after his father beat his mom to the point she was unconscious. He’d rather his mom lose both of her children and her abusive husband than endure so much pain, he cared about her more than anything. He didn’t want to sit idly by as he loses his sister and mother.

- His fingers are TORN up. Bites and picks at his nails, cuticles, dry knuckles, all of it. His fingertips and palms are also super calloused.

- Hangs out with Jeff and Ben most of the time. He’s closer to Ben and thinks Jeff’s a douche, but he puts up with him since sometimes the three of them have fun.

- He can be a jerk, but if you’re able to break past his shell he’s super sweet. He’s still sarcastic and snarky, but not necessarily mean. VERY smug.

- Had Jeff do a tattoo of Lyra’s birthday on his shoulder. It turned out surprisingly good. He was originally going to do her death date, but he felt like it was better to honor the time she was alive.

- Halloween junkie. He has a massive sweet tooth and loves autumn, so it’s the perfect day ever in his eyes.

- This guy DESTROYS in poker and blackjack. The few times his dad would spend time with him they’d play together. Even though he hated him, it meant a lot to him when he was little. Has the teeny tiniest gambling addiction, makes a bunch of bets with other residents of the mansion and usually wins.

- MIDWESTERN EMO BOY!!!! I will die on this hill. Music taste, clothing, all of it.

- His tics are pretty rare now that he’s older, but when he’s anxious they get bad.

- Exclusively wears comfortable clothes. Not because he gets uncomfortable, he could (and does) sleep in jeans and not be bothered. When he was younger he would always be forced to wear slacks, dress shoes, button ups, and ties for church or family gatherings. He HATED it.

- Him, Tim, and Brian are usually put on missions together. They’re all pretty compatible, and it’s nice to talk to just some regular ass dudes. Sometimes all three of them will go to run down diner’s if they finished their mission early, it’s the most normality any of them have in their lives.

- He and Tim bicker a LOT, but he secretly find comfort in it. He sees Tim as a protective older brother, rather than someone who just hates him. With how his dad treated him growing up, he thought all arguing was yelling and being aggressive, but Tim’s is more disagreement or annoyance.

- Almost knows how to play the acoustic guitar. He’s a quick learner, but he doesn’t have a crazy strong desire to get better at it.

- Pretty much always wears a big bandaid over his cheek gash. He’s not necessarily insecure about it unless he has a crush on someone, but it’s hard to eat or drink when it’s just open.

- He’s actually not to bad at soccer! Sometimes when it’s nice out him and Cody find a ball and play.

- Anywho, I’m in love with him.

Feedback and requests are welcome! Thank you for reading. :)

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

#creepypasta #headcanon #hcs #headcanons #slender mansion #slenderverse #ticci toby #hoodie marble hornets #masky marble hornets #slender proxy #toby rogers #tobias rogers #tobias erin rogers #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby hc #ben drowned #jeff the killer #ticci toby x reader

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sissylittlefeather · 8 months ago

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It Feels So Right (how can it be wrong?): Part 1

A/N: a new 3-part mini-series that was supposed to be a one-shot but got too long 😂. This is gonna be a fun one. I hate to give too much away up here, but just know we've got Austin filming Elvis, ghost Elvis, and you...

Shoutout to my beloved @ccab for hatching this one with me one late night. I love you, bestie.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! This is gonna stay dirty. Kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~3.2k

Honestly, you're a glorified assistant. Your job has a technical title, but you spend most of your time getting coffee and running errands for anyone on set who asks you. It's very rarely the actors. Usually, you're at the whim of everyone behind the cameras. You've been graduated from college for five years and you're just waiting for your shot in the film industry. In a lot of ways, you're blessed just to be on the set of this movie, so you swallow your pride and fetch lattes for every grip and sound guy that hollers for one.

Admittedly, you don't know as much about it as you probably should, but watching the filming has you convinced this Austin Butler will be up for an Oscar. You know Elvis and this guy has him nailed. You've seen footage of him a thousand times and Austin's performance seems to line up perfectly.

What you don't know, what no one but Austin knows, is Elvis is there. He stands and watches, not far from you actually, and in crucial moments, he takes over. Usually, he doesn't leave the sanctuary of Graceland, but when he heard about this movie, he knew it was an opportunity. And when he saw Austin and his dedication to the role, he knew that he'd be open enough for him to step in when he wanted. The first time he tried it, he shifted from one foot to the other for a few seconds and jumped, not knowing exactly what would happen. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They were close, similar long fingers, but not quite right. His body was thinner, more cut, and his face felt different. He called for a break and made his way to a place with a mirror. When he cautiously chanced a glance, he was shocked to see Austin's face looking back at him. It worked. He knew possession was possible, he was a ghost after all, but he'd never tried it before this. After the scene was finished, he decided the experience was so satisfying, he'd try it again. So he did. Over and over again throughout the filming process Austin would wake up with no memory of doing certain scenes. He figured out quickly what was happening and didn't seem to mind, so when he turned on set and saw Elvis, he wasn't even alarmed. Elvis had been surprised to be seen after all these years, but it didn't take the two long to strike up a friendship.

By the time Elvis noticed you, he'd been talking to Austin and possessing him regularly for weeks.

You come back from your morning coffee run and set the tray on a table.

"Coffee's here, guys!" You holler to everyone whose order you diligently fetched. For some reason, this time, you catch Elvis's attention. He watches, amused, as you sarcastically deliver all the coffees.

"Who is she?" He whispers to Austin.

"I'm not sure. I think her name is y/n. She gets coffee for the behind-camera guys." Austin answers nonchalantly.

"Have you actually looked at her?"

"I'm way ahead of you, man."

"You asked her out?"

"Not yet, but-"

"What are you waiting for?!" Austin looks at Elvis exasperated.

"I've been a bit busy."

"Can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Take her out." Austin laughs quietly.

"I don't know. Can you?" Elvis sighs.

"Can I use your body, I mean?"

"To go on a date? With a living girl? I'm not sure that's a reasonable plan." Elvis nods, defeated, and Austin walks back out on set to continue filming.

But Elvis can't stop watching you. He hovers around you, longing to be seen. You have an undeniable grace that has him damn-near spellbound. Austin pretends not to notice Elvis's preoccupation with you. He has plans to ask you out himself, eventually.

But Elvis gets tired of waiting. There's not too much left to film and he doesn't want to miss his chance. So one day, he jumps into Austin to film a scene during the '68 Special and just... doesn't leave. Instead, he swallows his nervousness and walks up to you at the end of the day.

"Hi. I'm... Austin." He holds a hand out for you to shake.

"Oh, gosh, I know, I'm y/n." You can't believe one of the actors knows you exist, much less is talking to you. And it's Austin Butler in black leather.

"I've been watching you. And I- okay that sounds creepy. You're just very pretty and I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go out with me? Tonight?"

"Oh wow... tonight?" You have a bed with your name on it and a pizza you plan to order, but this is Austin Butler and he's asking you out.

"Yeah..." Elvis isn't going to take the chance that Austin might refuse to let him take you out.

"Sure? I mean. Yes. I'd love to go out with you." A warm smile spreads across Austin's face and you can't believe how relieved he seems. Truly, it's Elvis, but you don't know that.

"Okay! Great! Can I pick you up in a couple hours?" Elvis isn't sure how he'll stay in Austin for this long, but he's going to try his best.

You nod and give Austin your address. Then, you make your way home completely in awe of the fact that you have a date with Austin Butler tonight.

******

Later that night, there's a knock on your door and you put the last minute touches on your makeup and walk to it to open it. When you do, you're a little shocked to find Austin with his hair fixed like Elvis, in a suit with the shirt unbuttoned half way down his chest and a thick gold cross sitting on his sternum. For some reason, this outfit doesn't feel like him. And it's not; it's 100% Elvis, but you have no way of knowing that.

"You ready, doll?" Why does he even sound like Elvis?

"Yeah, lemme just grab my purse."

You spend the rest of the evening on one of the best first dates you've ever experienced. Conversation comes easily to both of you, and you think it's unbelievably endearing that he takes you to a diner, and a movie, and a roller skating rink.

You've never been good at roller skating, so you spend most of the time hanging on him and trying to keep your balance.

Elvis is in heaven. He hasn't had this much fun in almost 5 decades. And the feeling of your hands on his skin and your body pressed up against his, even if it's not exactly his, is something he's desperately missed. When it's time to take you home, he's dying to take you inside and feel more of you on him, but he doesn't want to push you or take advantage of you in any way. Instead, he walks you to the door and stands with you awkwardly under the awning of your apartment complex.

"This was really fun." You want to ask him inside, but you're not sure if that would be too slutty. Still, he's a movie star, he has to be used to that. Right?

"Yeah, it was." You notice his eyes flick down to your lips, so you turn your face up to signal that he can kiss you. Elvis gets suddenly nervous. He hasn't kissed anyone in a very long time. After a few seconds, you realize he's not going to kiss you, so you step back.

"Oh... I'm sorry..." Elvis wants to kick himself for missing the window.

"For what, doll?"

"Nothing, I just thought... it's nothing." He takes a deep breath and remembers who he is. Then, he reaches out and grabs you by the waist, pulling you into him. He crashes his lips into yours and kisses you deeply. It's weird to kiss with someone else's mouth, but it doesn't take him long to figure it out.

You revel in the fact that Austin Butler is kissing you. You.

After you make out on the porch for a good fifteen minutes, you pull back from the kiss and look up into his eyes.

"Do you... wanna come in...?"

"Can I?" Elvis is shocked that you'd ask that so soon. Then, he remembers that it's not 1956 anymore. 1969 happened... he was there... and women are different now.

"Yeah... if you want to..." You start to get nervous that maybe you've made him uncomfortable. "You don't have to-"

"Yes. Please. I'd like that." You nod and smile and turn to open the door. He swallows deeply as you lead him into your apartment. It's been a long time since he's kissed someone, but it's been even longer since he did this. And kissing is easier to do well without practice.

You turn to him and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom. Is it possible that Austin is shy? He seems a little nervous to be headed that way with you.

"Do you not want to do this?" You stand facing each other next to the bed and look up into his eyes as he nods fervently.

"I do. I really do. I just... haven't... in a while..."

"Oh. Well, that's okay." Elvis smiles with Austin's face. He reaches out and fiddles with your shirt on your shoulder. Then, he moves his hand up to your cheek and runs his thumb over your lips.

"I just never thought this would be possible."

"What do you mean?" Elvis's heart jumps.

"Oh, umm, just, I've been watching you for a long time. I didn't think you'd want to go out with me." You smile and Elvis relaxes. He leans in slowly and presses his lips to yours again. He's surprised by how easy it is to fall back into a rhythm with you as the kissing ramps up and his hands, Austin's hands, begin to roam over your body. Without thinking, he slides them up under your shirt, dragging them across your back. He wants to lift your shirt and pull it off, but again, he's not sure just how far you're willing to go. Seemingly reading his mind, you remove your shirt for him.

You're shocked at how shy Austin is. You assumed he'd take the lead, but he seems reluctant even to take your shirt off. You push his jacket off of his shoulders and it falls to the ground. Your fingers go to the buttons and you take his shirt off too.

"Wow..." It comes out of you as a whisper while you run your fingertips over Austin's rippling abdominal muscles. Elvis looks down at himself and flexes his stomach as you touch him. This is different, but seeing the way you look at him, he's not exactly complaining. Bodies like this weren't common in his day, but he's thankful for Austin's dedication to diet and exercise in this moment. Something about it boosts his confidence and he reaches behind your back to remove your bra, but his fingers fumble. He peeks over your shoulder and eventually figures it out, pulling your bra forward off of you and dropping it to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts hungrily and he realizes how much he's missed the softness of a woman's skin against him. He pulls you in close and his kisses reach a fever pitch as he begins to move his mouth down your body. You revel in the sensation of his tongue on your nipple, throwing your head back in pleasure.

He turns you and lays you down on the bed, scooting you backwards and crawling on top of you. You arch your back as he kisses your stomach gently, finally landing at the place between your bellybutton and the top of your skirt. He hooks his fingers under your waistline and looks up at you, blue eyes wide with lust.

"Can I?"

"Yes. Please." He smiles softly and slides your skirt down your legs, removing your shoes at the same time.

"Mmmm." He groans as he holds one of your feet in his hand and kisses your ankle. You have beautiful feet and this is just another thing Elvis has missed about being with a woman. He feels his erection throbbing where it presses against the fabric of his pants. This creates a new sense of urgency in him and he hooks your panties with one finger between your legs and drags them off, quickly tossing them to the side. Now you're completely naked and he just stares at you for a minute. He was right to take this chance. You're worth it.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're just incredibly beautiful. I don't think I've ever wanted a woman this badly." You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your core. He's unbelievable and if he's not careful, he'll have you head over heels for him. You sit up and begin to unbutton his pants, but he stops you. "This first, honey. Come here." He lays with his head on your pillow and pulls you to him, situating your hips above his face. He puts both hands on your ass and pulls your clit to his lips.

"Oh, fuck!" You grab the headboard while he goes to work licking and sucking you like his life depends on it. His tongue makes tantalizing circles on your sensitive button and you want to scream it feels so good. Elvis can tell by your reaction that he hasn't lost his touch, even if he is technically using someone else's mouth to do it. You look down at Austin with his face buried in your pussy, eyes closed like he's truly enjoying what he's doing. He slides first one and then two fingers into you and pumps them in and out while his tongue moves on you fervently.

"Oh, God, Austin, I'm gonna cum!" For a second, he forgets that he's Austin and his eyes pop open, but he adjusts quickly as your orgasm slams into you and your walls pulse around his fingers. Electricity explodes in your core and shoots lightning bolts to your fingertips in exquisite waves. When you finally come back down, you fall sideways off of him and lay on the bed. He wipes his face with his hand and sits up next to you.

"How was that, doll?"

"Oh. My. God." That's all you can get out and he smiles widely. He's still got it.

He stands up next to the bed, kicks off his shoes, and drops his pants and underwear. This is the first time he's looked down at himself and seen Austin's cock. Elvis is a little in shock. Not only is it huge, it's circumcised. He hopes it'll work the same way. Before he has too much more time to think about it, though, he looks up and you're on your knees in front of him.

You hold the base of him with one hand, put the other on his ass, and lick a circle around the tip.

"Fuck, y/n." Yep, it works the same way.

You slide as much of him as you can stand into your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat. His head falls back and his mouth opens as you continue to work on him, bouncing and sucking and running your tongue along his shaft. Elvis is in heaven with your mouth around him and as much as he never wants it to stop, he wants to feel the rest of you too. Still, he reaches down and takes a handful of your hair as you let him thrust gently into your mouth for a bit. Then, he stops and stands you up, looking down into your eyes.

"Can I make love to you?" Your heart skips. No one has ever asked you that before.

"Yes. Yes, please." You lay back down on the bed together and he lines himself up with your entrance. His heart is pounding in anticipation. It's been so long.

He begins to push into you slowly, letting you stretch to accommodate his size. You moan softly as the sensation almost overwhelms you. When he's fully filling you, he pulls back slowly and thrusts forward again, groaning at the feeling of your tightness around him. He picks up a steady pace of fucking into you and you wrap your legs around his waist. Elvis is impressed with Austin's body and his ability to thrust without getting tired. It's been a very long time since he had that kind of youthful vitality.

"Yes, yes, yes!" You cry out breathlessly as he pounds you.

"God, y/n, it's so good." He moans again and kisses you deeply, feeling his orgasm begin to build in his hips. You're teetering just on the edge too, breasts bouncing with his rhythm. His cock is perfect to hit just the right spot inside you as he drives into you.

You feel him tense up as he slams into you one last time, throwing you over the edge into oblivion as well. You throb around him as he shoots you full of his warmth and shudders his hips into you. He relaxes and sets his head on your shoulder, both of you sweating and breathing heavily. After a few seconds, he slides out of you and lays next to you on the bed.

He's dying to tell you that he's Elvis and not Austin. He wants you to know that it's him. But he's afraid that would freak you out too much, so he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he turns to look at you and you look back into Austin's face.

"That was amazing." You say, smiling. He smiles in return.

"It really was."

"Do you wanna... stay...?" You feel like you should know better than to ask, but you do anyway. Elvis knows he can't hold onto Austin when he sleeps, though. He'd be shocked to wake up here with you with no memory of how he got here.

"I wish I could, doll, but I can't. I'd love to do this again sometime, though."

"Yeah?" He rolls over and runs his fingertips down the side of your face.

"Yes. I really would." He leans in and kisses your lips softly. Then, he sighs deeply and rolls over, getting out of bed and putting his clothes on. It doesn't seem like he wants to leave, but he does anyway. He kisses you at the door again, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you soon, doll." You think to yourself that you'll see him tomorrow at work, but you don't say that part out loud. He walks through the door and you close it softly behind him.

He stays in Austin just long enough to get him home and in bed, laying there for a bit thinking about the encounter he just had with you. Elvis hasn't had a better day in over 50 years. Finally, his eyes close and Elvis pulls himself out, letting Austin sleep.

He's nervous about how he'll react when he finds out Elvis used his body to go out with you, but what's done is done. And he has every intention of begging to let it happen again.

******

Until part 2. Thoughts?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax

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