#silver is his pathetic wet dog

[kami-kun1003]

i like to imagine that Sebek is Malleus’s shitty fucked up cat

[lanabuckybarnes]

Sergeant’s Got You

18+ Minors DNI

You’re stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.

Note: I was asked for something like this, so it’s heavy on the love for his dog tags

Pairing: beefy Bucky (but he’s got that fatws attitude) x reader

Warnings: Dom Bucky, basically smutty right from the get go, filthy buck, he has his metal arm (I’m a slut for it), you like Bucky’s dog tags, like really like them, Petnames: sweetness, sweetheart, sweet thing, sweetie, good girl, baby, a LOT of dirty talk, sergeant kink, sir kink, oral (M receiving), unprotected p in v sex, he’s rough, degradation, feral Bucky, squirting, creampie, aftercare.

Word Count: 3.2k *insert cat HUH sound*

You were stressed beyond belief. Your mission ended up having a few more loose ends than anyone was anticipating leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you were finally back in New York and ready to punch the next person who pats your back sympathetically with a ‘you tried’ look on their face.

Just as you were contemplating boxing the cupboard in the kitchen than wouldn’t stay open two strong arms pulled you back and into a hard body.

“You alright sweetness?” Bucky spoke into the locks of hair at the back of your ear. His cologne had you relaxing already, the fingers on his right hand hitched up your shirt to rub soothing circles over your hip bone. What really got you was the subtle grind of his hips against your ass; he was a filthy shit, you loved it when he knew what you wanted.

You flipped your body around in his arms, your fingers running up from his abs to his soft chest until they wrapped around his neck. He smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do but he was a tease, you had to tell him or he wouldn’t. It’s just the way the world worked for you sweetheart.

You surged forward, desperate for a taste of the cherry lips you missed so much. You hated to admit just how much the man in front of you affected you, how often on your mission your hand snaked down your body and in-between your legs at the photos Sam sent of your lost puppy husband, his wide back and tiny waist wrapped in that blue Henley that had the arms pulled up to his forearm revealing the long veins and thick structure underneath. You needed him, now.

He pulled back just as your lips brushed his, a dark smirk and a filthy blue colour surfacing in his orbs. Fucking tease.

“You know you gotta use your words sweetheart” One of his big hands, his metal one, landed on the back of your skull, the metal thumb dancing over your bottom lip before you sucked it into your wet mouth. He growled at the innocent look you gave him as your tongue flicked over the tip before poking out and running up the underside of the shiny plates.

He pushed down, holding your tongue in place as it travelled, drool dripping from the muscle but he didn’t care, the sight of the rivulets of saliva sliding down the silver had him harder than a rock. One of the most technologically advanced pieces of handiwork and you were sucking on it like a little slut, pathetic.

He had you in his room before you could even blink, the rough slamming of the door vibrating the wall he pushed you up against.

“You’re a little slut ain’t you? Sucking on my thumb like my cock, getting your drool everywhere, you’re so lucky I don’t make you clean it up” he spoke as he hastily pulled your shirt and his off, his dog tags jangling softly as they fell back into place between his huge chest. You moved like a magpie, gripping at the shiny metal tags, giving them a squeeze, his name imprinting for a second of the fat of your palm before letting them slip between your fingers.

He watched you, ever fascinated at just how worked up you got about him, but it was your love for his dog tags that had him curious. You always, without fail slipped a finger around them, whether it was when you pulled him close for a kiss or if your slept on his chest, one of your fingers slipped itself through the chain and held them close to your hand.

He wasn’t stupid though, he could practically smell when you soaked yourself, always conveniently after his swinging tags made contact with your chin or ran up the column in your spine, the way that little pussy tightened around him when the old metal swept over your lips, tapping your teeth as you moaned out in pleasure. It made him embarrassingly weak too.

“You want me to fuck you cute girl?” He groaned into the crook of your neck, his plush lips suckling obscene dark marks downward till he reached the crevice of your breasts, your legs wrapped around him tighter as his hand grazed over your sensitive sides to the meat of your tit, gripping it softly and flicking a warm thumb over your nipple. You jerked into him at the shock of pleasure, your hand carding through his waves of hair and pulling him close as worked on the underside of your other boob.

“Words Sweetheart, I need words” He knew it wouldn’t be long till you hit that sub space, the same thing always happened when you were stressed, you needed your big Sergeant to take the wheel, use you a little bit.

“Please” fuck the whimper in your voice had him grinding up into you, the scratchy fabric of his jeans meeting the barely their material of the shorts you wore under your gear.

“Please what sweet thing?” he moved to watch the deep colour of your eyes swim with lust, eradicating any stress they once held, he was doing his job.

“Please use me Sir” you whined, fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again to pull him close, finally getting that kiss you so desperately needed. His left hand cupped your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the high point softly, a sharp contrast to the bruising kiss you had going on. Teeth clashed with teeth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed closer, flicking his tongue viciously with your much weaker one, running against the top of it and sucking once it gave up it’s fight. He pulled you in again, tender with his lips this time, enclosing your swollen ones with his, his tongue running over your upper lip soothingly.

“Fuck! You’re making me go crazy” he chuckled as he moved off the wall, backing himself up to the bed till his calves hit the frame. He sat down with both of you, your body straddling him, his right hand pushing you back and forth softly on his bulge. The lust in his eyes mixed with a softness as he looked up at you, his metal hand still on your face although now his shiny forefinger and thumb hooked onto your chin, pulling you forward for a kiss, and another, and another. You whined, you didn’t want kisses and grinding, you wanted him to blow your back out, use your pretty face, anything but this.

Seeming to sense your thoughts he stopped your movements, the right hand coming up to join his left on either side of your face.

“What do you want sweetheart? You want your soldier to ruin you? I can feel how hot you are on my dick… you want it bad don’t you?” You moaned at his words, dripping filthily from his tongue, he sure had a way to fuck you up without even pulling out his cock.

“Yes, yes please. Use me” he smirked, satisfied at your whimpered begging. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his eyes he had you manoeuvring onto your knees in front of him.

He was a sight, he looked carved from marble, each bend of his body, every nook and muscle and vein delicately etched into rock solid stone to be preserved for a lifetime. His bulge strained painfully against his jeans, angrily awaiting your slender fingers offering it reprise from its tight cell. You were glad to give it just that.

Clumsily, you fiddled with the thick belt around his waist, smiling in satisfaction when the rhythmic clanks finally hit your ears. You flicked the button open and were about to pull the zip of his fly when his hand stopped you.

“With your mouth sweetness” his lip caught between his teeth, a soft blush decorated his face and chest as he watched you. Your tongue ran up the metal, the slight tang hitting your tastebuds, you flicked the little tab until sat snug between your teeth and pulled it down slowly, each tooth of the zip clicking as it finally opened.

Once you were done, Bucky pushed the thick material down his legs with a relieved sigh, letting it pool at his ankles before flicking them off with your help. His hard-on raged against the soft grey briefs, a pool of darkness lay at the head, precum soaking through.

His hands met yours, pulling them up his thighs and hooking them around the waistband of his briefs. He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling and neck craned as he watched you both inch down his underwear until it caught on his tip, he hissed as the scratchy fabric pulled over his silky head before it slapped deliciously onto his public bone and stomach.

“God” he chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of finally being free “look at you drooling all over yourself for me, you want a taste sweet thing?” His metal fingers had wrapped themselves around the fat base of his length, pushing it forward till the spongy tip hooked onto your upper lip, his salty precum smearing over it like a x-rated lip balm.

You pecked the tip of his dick, the tip of your tongue barely poking him as you did. You moved down, lips brushing against every angry vein on his cock until you met the metal of his hand in which you slowly licked a thick strip back up until you swirled your wet muscle against his head relentlessly.

“Fuck sweetheart, good girl” he groaned, head lulling back as his hips jittered off the bed softly, pushing his head into your awaiting mouth. You sucked him in greedily, selfishly inhaling his thick musky scent that had your pussy drooling against your lace panties, threatening to spill into your shorts— you didn’t doubt that if he had you naked, your essence would drip all over the wood of the floor— he’d have a field day making you clean it up.

“God you’re so good, ha— making your soldier feel so good, you like your sergeant all needy? Ready to pull you up off that floor and sink my cock into you” You moaned against his length, gagging softly when he jerked up into the back of your throat.

“Shit, Nuh uh get up here, I wanna cum in that pretty pussy, move come on” He pulled you up and off his length like you weighed nothing at all, his fingers ripping the shorts from your body and only stopping when he caught a glimpse of you’re soaked panties.

“Fuck girl, who’s got you like this hmm?” His thick thumb brushed small circles over your neglected clit. You moaned loudly, jerking off the bed with a shudder at the feeling, more of your slick pooling into your already soaked gusset.

“Mmm I can fucking smell you, smell so good baby… bet I could fuck you without prep, you want that?” He spoke, his voice deep, laced with primal lust— nothing like the composed grumpy old man everyone else saw— no, he was raw, unhinged, pupils blown wide with sexual desire. You wanted nothing more than his cock in you.

“Please Buck, just your cock I don’t care just please” you cried when he pushed particularly hard on your aching nub, your knuckles turning white as you fisted then covers beneath you; your legs shook as they threatened to close on his thick forearm, you were close already but you didn’t want to cum without him filling you out.

He gleamed at your form, fucked out, soaked and crying already— he’d barely fucking touched you— he couldn’t wait to see your face as he fucked you raw.

He ripped your panties with renewed vigour, the ruined material pulled away from your sensitive heat to hang around the your ankle that now sat over Bucky’s muscular shoulder. Your thigh quaked softly at the stretch but his cold digits ran softly against the tight muscle, soothing it for the time being.

His fat head tapped against your clit, each wet slap causing your body to twitch off the bed at the electric jolts of pleasure it sent up your spine. You could feel Bucky’s fingers circling your entrance, two of his thick fingers squishing into your tight hole as he prepped you lightly. When they left, a long line of arousal followed, connecting him to you, he growled at the sight before licking the wetness from his rough palm and middle finger.

“Mmm so sweet, if I wasn’t so fucking horny I’d make you cum all over my face… make you soak my mouth, shit” he was talking more to himself than you but you clenched around nothing at the thought, the thought of him eating you out for hours was not impossible, he’d done it before.

His thick tip drooling against your entrance pulled you from your trance, he pushed softly, hooking his head along the tight rim of your pussy as he stared up at you.

“you ready sweet thing?” He leaned over, right hand resting against the side of your head, his thumb flicking stray tears from your cheeks. You nodded softly, eyes unmoving from him, watching as his lips twitched in pleasure as his head popped into you, each inch dragging in slowly, aided by your soaked folds.

You moaned pathetically, his head running over your g-spot had you clenching around him, your orgasm hitting you quickly, your hands tightening painfully against the sheets as white hot pleasure soaked through your nerves. Everything was tingling, flashes of colour dancing over your closed eyelids.

Bucky wasn’t much better as he watched you, having to will his own orgasm down at the sight of you losing yourself over him already. You were a fucking sight to him, your tits bouncing with each sharp breath you took, mouth hung open allowing each whimper or silent scream to escape unabashedly.

“Ohh good girl, that’s it mmmm shit you’re fucking clenching me tight baby” Bucky mumbled, words falling from his lips in verbal mush, his own mind barely keeping up. When you finally came down from your high you open your eyes to look up at him, a shy little smile playing on your lips at the way he bore down at you.

“I’m so-“ you began but he pushed forward, sucking up your moan at the feeling of him hitting your cervix into his mouth.

“Don’t you dare be fucking sorry for that sweetheart, you hear? Fucking almost made me cum like a fucking teenager again, naughty girl ain’t you? I fucking love you” His hot breath panted against your lips as he growled at you, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel ashamed about the pleasure you were feeling. You blushed deeply, it was quite funny just how much his love for you made you blush, even when he was currently pushing against the deepest parts of you.

“Can I move baby?” He asked against your lips, smiling satisfyingly as you nodded before planting a wet kiss on your lips and pushing himself up.

He started slow, letting each vein pull against every nerve in your heat, his teeth clenching at just how tight you’d squeeze every time his head brushed against your sweet bundle of pleasure. His smooth pace never lasted long though, his hips jerked violently against you once he deemed you ready enough, your body slipping up across the sheets at each slam of his hips against your thighs.

He was leaning over you now, your leg pushed up between both your bodies, his dog tags clanging above your face at each jerk of his body. You reached a hand up, encircling the darkened metal, pulling on it as your body twitched with hints of a second orgasm.

“Shit! You like when my fucking tags hang over your face, fucking little slut aren’t you? You like being fucked like this? your sergeant fucking all that stress away? Mmm god, maybe I’ll put them around your neck next time hmm? Have you wear them when you’re riding me, let them fucking swing between those tits— god you’d love that” Bucky rambled, on and on, thrusts becoming sloppy as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time, only this time your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, you could feel yourself soaking Bucky’s dick and thighs— probably soaking the already destroyed sheets below you.

With one final thrust Bucky’s moan caught in this throat as he pushed himself the deepest he could go, hot cum soaking your cervix and pushing out against his length to run along your folds, mixing with your juices. His legs give out forcing himself against you even more, pulling a pained whine from you at the feeling. As your orgasms settled, your breathing slightly less laboured although still heavy, you pulled him close by his tags, kissing his blissed out face right on the lips.

“You were so good for me sweet thing, so fucking good” he praised, his metal hand running through your tangled hair, soothing your heated scalp.

He leaned back up with a groan, massaging your aching leg as he pulled it from his shoulder before slipping out of your pussy. You both moaned at the loss, your heat clenching against nothing as his cum slipped from your body in waves. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your heat, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watched intently. You giggled shyly at his intense expression, your aching legs closing softly in embarrassment much to Bucky’s dismay.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to the bathroom. You snuck a glimpse of the sheets as he carried you, the whole area soaked in a mixture of you both.

“Oh my god” you whispered in disbelief against his head.

“What?” He replied as he set you down and began running a bath.

“The sheets are ruined, I can’t believe I did that” you eyed his naked frame from behind, his wide back flushed red but still absolutely stunning, each muscle rippling as he moved methodically, his small waist directing you to his thick globes. It was then Bucky turned to look at you, catching you ogling at his ass, he laughed when you turned quickly.

“It makes me proud when I look at those sheets, I mean who else can make you squirt like that? Fucking no one” he growled the last part against your lips giving you a quick smooch before turning the water off and lifting you both into the hot bubbled water.

His hands massaged your shoulders, working out the knots from your activities as well as any left over stress from your mission, not that there was any after he fucked it out of you.

You two sat in silence, save for the occasional sigh you let out when he hit the right spot, both savouring each other’s presence, reminiscing on the way you exhausted each other. You laugh when you remember his words.

“What? what’s got you all giggly?” he asked, nipping the skin on the nape of your neck.

“Nothing… just… were you being serious?”

“About what sweetheart?” He eyes you curiously.

“About letting me wear your dog tags” you suppress a smirk as you feel him twitch against your back, obviously your words sparking something in him.

“We’ll discuss it later” he rasped causing you to laugh out loud.

Your week had been stressful, with never ending problems and constant nagging from the higher ups to do the job but when you were in Bucky’s embrace, when you had those dog tags between your fingers or dangling over your face, everything melted away into nothingness, leaving you and Bucky alone.

-

So I lied mwahahahaha, I was going to post it yesterday but I love alcohol so I was drunk but here we are.

I’m a little nervous to post this one idk why.

I hope you enjoyed x

(I do not own any of the photos, credits to original owners)

[chuuyascumsock]

Bury Beneath this Filth they Call Skin and Turn it into a Garden || MINORS DNI

Summary: I made a hurt/comfort fic for Chuuya, I might as well make a comfort fic for Dazai too cause he’s my soft spot.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Reader, GN reader, Angst, Comfort, No One Is Safe, Mentions Of Self Sabotaging, Self-deprecating Thoughts, Mentions Of Dehumanization, Mentions Of Suicide Attempt, Dazai Highkey Has Bad Hygiene Because I Know He Canonically Reeks Of Liquid Ass (I Still Love Him But Honey—), Brief Description Of Self Harm Scars, He Takes Off His Bandages, Non-Sexual Nudity For A Bit.

Dazai doesn’t remember when you started to keep an extra pair of clothes in your bottom drawer just for him.

He doesn’t remember when you bought an extra toothbrush for him either, the item sitting in a small cup on your bathroom counter so intimately close to yours. He doesn’t remember when you started to stock your cabinets with canned crab or an occasional snack he had stolen from you before and said it tasted good. He doesn’t remember when you began preparing meals big enough for two. And he doesn’t remember when you started to look at him the way you do.

Those eyes that so fondly trace over every inch of his frame like he’s capable of being loved— like he’s not a silver-tongued beast of a man, his words filled with more teeth than his bite ever could. He doesn’t deserve it— he knows he doesn’t— so why does he find himself at your doorstep every time he fails his attempts in ending his miserable existence?

“You’re going to get sick if you keep this up,” You sigh out, stripping away Dazai’s soaked clothes until he’s shivering in his sopping wet bandages and boxers. “And you smell horrible every time…” Your nose slightly scrunches at the lingering smell of hydrogen sulfide and mucky water from the Yokohama canal.

“Whatever do you mean, dear? That’s just my natural musk,” Dazai gives a lopsided grin, attempting to lighten the mood. His grin falls into an uneasy look when he notices the brief side eye you give him as you toss his clothes into the washer.

“My water bills spike every month you do this, you know,” You point out blamelessly.

“Sorry,” Dazai mumbles with a weak smile. He always made a promise to try his hardest not to inconvenience anyone while making his attempts— making it up to those who he had done so with such as Atsushi. But he’s burdened you countless times, not realizing until now. Before he mentally promises himself to never return to you like a pathetic, mangy stray dog— you come into his view again.

“Don’t be sorry, but please come to me when you feel the urge to do these things, ‘Samu. I worry about you.” And Dazai can’t help but to immediately let his previous thoughts fly away. Who was he kidding? He’d never be able to stay away from you.

Your hands carefully reach to begin unwrapping the bandages sliding off Dazai’s body. Flinching, Dazai subconsciously moves a hand to stop you from taking his bandages off. There’s a momentary standstill between both of your movements as you look into his eyes with a reassuring gaze before his hand relaxes and falls to his side. It’s not the first time this has happened, but Dazai doesn’t think he’d ever get used to the feeling of having his protective cloth shed to reveal the myriad of scars that are engraved on this once blank canvas that humans call skin.

And when all is removed, you still look at him as you always had with an unwavering fondness that leaves him subconsciously leaning into you, yearning to be swallowed and drowned in your gentle affections. He doesn’t understand why you do the things that you do, such as loving him no matter how many times he tells you how much he doesn’t need you because it’s always been like that— lonely— or why you even put up with any of his shit for that matter. But you do. And he thinks he’ll never know why, because he’s terrible and doesn’t deserve what you do in return to his horrid behavior.

He slips into the tub without needing guidance, face tilting up to look at you without his usual charming grin, expression replaced with a quiet pleading, begging for any sliver of attention you can offer. And you give into his pleads, sitting by the tub while running a hand through his dark tangled hair before reaching for a washcloth to bathe him. There’s a lack of cheeky comments and flirting from Dazai as you rinse away the grime sticking to his tainted skin, his eyes flickering from distant to focused in a matter of minutes before glancing back over to you and melting further into your reverent touch.

Even after exiting the tub, he says nothing, allowing you to wrap a towel around his shoulders and place a tender kiss to his forehead. If this had been any other day, he would’ve teased you to no end about how you had to stand on your toes just to reach his face, but he merely softly smiles in mild amusement and lets you lead him into your room to get dressed.

He wears the extra pair of clothes you keep for him at the bottom of your drawer, shirt loosely hanging off his shoulders and pajama pants dragging along the floor each time he takes a step forward to follow you to your bed. He was used to sleeping on his futon, but he much preferred your bed and the comfort your body brought when he tangled his limbs in yours.

You don’t scold him either when he buries his face into your neck like you used to the first few times he had done so— complaining about his hot breath on your neck. Now, you reach a hand back to scratch your fingers through his damp hair in an affectionate manner, sighing out softly in what he can tell is contentment.

Even as Dazai drifts off, he can’t help but think about the irony of hating dogs as much as he does, yet he can’t help but love you like one.

[inoreuct]

punkflower where miles is usually holding back when he fights; he normally uses 20-30% of his full power but when he gets REALLY mad his eyes glow dark blue and lightning crackles between his fingers.

it's terrifying.

hobie also finds it incredibly hot.

// mild blood + injury, miles going god mode

Hobie swung himself around the corner just in time to avoid the slab of concrete crashing down on where he’d been two seconds ago, hissing as he gripped his side. “Bugger,” he muttered, panting as he slid down the wall.

There was a piece of glass sticking out of his gut. It wasn’t bleeding too badly, but then again, how much blood was too much blood? His vest scraped unpleasantly against the brick as he yanked his mask off and tried to figure out how he was going to do this. From the way it felt it was, what, four? Five inches long? He giggled weakly.

Maybe he was approaching too much blood territory.

He sobered up and forced his back straight, gritting his teeth as he pinched the shard with blood-slick fingers; it made a horrible wet sound as he pulled it out slowly, a pained noise cracking out of his throat as he slumped against the wall and tossed it aside.

Fuck, that stung. He dug the heels of his palms into the cold, hard ground, blinking hard as his vision swam, vaguely aware of the fight still going on around him—

“—obie!”

Right. Miles was still out there—

His boyfriend dropped down from above, sticking the landing neatly and yanking his mask off.

…Or not.

Miles’s face was dirt-smudged, hair a mess as he knelt down to press his palms to Hobie’s wound. “This is a lot of blood.”

“S’fine, love.” Shit, was he slurring? “Nothin’ I ain’t handled before.” Hobie offered a shaky grin and got an arched brow in return.

“Stay here,” Miles said, unimpressed as he grabbed Hobie’s hand to replace his own. “I’m gonna finish this.”

“Wh— Come off it, I can still fight!”

That might have been a lie, actually; it would be absolutely pathetic to get taken out by a literal piece of glass and his healing factor was good, but there was—he looked down—a frankly concerning amount of blood on his clothes.

“You are going to stay the hell down before you pass out.”

Hobie swallowed as Miles leveled him with a cool gaze, the hints of something luminescent deep in his irises. His boyfriend stood gracefully and he gave up on protesting, getting comfortable against the wall. “Go easy on ‘em,” he muttered, lips curling up as electricity sparked between Miles’s fingers, snapping like hungry hunting dogs.

“Nah,” Miles replied, absolutely nonchalant, and it just made Hobie grin wider. “I was already getting annoyed. Now you’re hurt—” he pulled his mask down, the smell of ozone seeping into the air. “And now I’m pissed.”

Hobie smirked as he watched Miles sling a web and jump back into the chaos. This was gonna be over so quick.

As Spider-People, they were used to pulling their punches— if they lost control of their strength they could cause some serious damage, but Miles?

Miles was something else entirely.

He rarely ever used more than a third of the power he had, and the one time he’d tried amping it up at HQ he had practically obliterated the training room. Even now as Hobie peeked around the corner, he could almost taste it on his tongue; Miles didn’t do this often, hardly ever got mad or got serious, because there simply wasn't a need to. But when he did?

Ooh, boy.

The silver-blue sparks crackling over Miles’s suit were the only thing that belied his calm countenance. Hobie knew that if he were to pull off his mask, his eyes would be glowing; a dark, deep blue, threaded through with white like lightning forking across a night sky.

What little surviving street lights around them flickered and dimmed as Miles tapped their energy, charging himself up like a battery, drinking it in until it webbed across his body like ley lines glowing blinding against his skin.

For a fraction of a second it all went pitch black.

And then someone flipped the switch back on, and Hobie shielded his eyes as Miles exploded like a star.

*

It was dead silent, save for Hobie’s laboured breathing; he could feel his wound knitting together but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, Christ. He tipped his head back against the brick as Miles landed in front of him with a thwip, mask already off, eyes wild with the remnants of lightning and adrenaline. Hobie whistled, teeth gleaming. “Well ain’t that a pretty sight.”

“Shut up,” Miles groaned, shaking his head good-naturedly as he folded himself to the ground, settling against Hobie’s uninjured side. “...You gonna be okay?”

“Y’know I will, love.” He pressed a kiss to Miles’s forehead, still overly-warm, tasted the sour salt of electricity metallic on his skin. “All wrapped up?”

“Mm,” Miles hummed quietly, sinking closer with a tired sigh. “They’re all out cold, dropped Miguel a text. Dios, I’m starving.” He tilted his head to look up at Hobie, gently lacing their fingers together. “Stay for dinner? My mama’s making arroz con gandules.”

Hobie made an affronted noise. “I’d never give up a chance to have your mother’s cooking. A god, that woman is.” He laughed when Miles laughed, letting the other boy’s warmth burn away the ache in his side. “‘Course I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Miles murmured, soft and sure, cheek pressing into Hobie’s shoulder as he curled into the arm Hobie wrapped around his waist.

And when Hobie kissed him, he tasted like static; like lightning in his blood, racing over his scalp, white-hot electric against his tongue and all the way down his spine, a fleeting lick of flint against steel.

Fuck, it never got old.

Hobie had a feeling he’d spend the rest of his life chasing that spark, and he didn’t mind one bit.

fin.

[rreskk]

GTA slut here, requesting more femdom mommy x Trevor!! Maybe some kind of exhibitionist/public humiliation thing involving the elite T.P.I employees (like Ron, Chef, Wade). No one does it like you do! <3

Summary: Ron called at the wrong times. You were in the middle of punishing Trevor for his overall bratty behaviour.

TW: Smut

Pairings: Dom fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1788

BRAT

"Hey Ron!"

Situated in his trailer for the mellow Tuesday it was, you had answered a phone-call regarding work as Trevor was failing to answer his own calls – reported by Ronald who was on the other side of the line, ranting and raving about the low productions rate in the lab and how Trevor needs to know, as soon as possible.

“I’ll be sure to tell him when he gets back.” You reassured the fellow neurotic, the conversation flowing in a smoothly manner.

While you were busy with the phone-call, the cigarette that you had previously sucked was growing short. The ashes fell and it was dissolving by minute. It soon was not worth the nicotine dependency so you reached over to nightstand beside you. Your hand missed the ashtray and instead grabbed onto this long, silver leash that had rust pinning between the metal crevasse.

A large thump occurred when you tugged onto the cord, the leash attaching itself to the collar of Trevor who was thrown against your feet. He winced and looked up, his mouth covered by a gag, his brown, wet eyes begging mercilessly for you; tear stains already swelling up his reddened cheeks, out of both pleasure and pain. You burnt the cigarette out with his naked shoulder, adding to the many scars you had already left on him from the past ciggies you had smoked. It made the man whinge behind the gag.

You had told Ron that Trevor was out of town for the day while he was actually kneeling at your feet like a pathetic dog wrapped around a leash and collar. He was heard whining in the background as Ronald respectfully grew concerned, asking about the noise.

“What noise?” You grinned, staring at the man in front of you. “I can’t hear anything here. It must be your phone.”

It was quickly dismissed since you sounded so certain despite the reality of it. You listened to Ron talk about current affairs, eyes falling down to Trevor’s stomach, then to his whole nakedness. His cock was standing up with pre-cum spitting the tip. It was shaking viciously. Your treatment had already made him came many times that morning, so he was getting exhausted and aroused, his face drooping and hands falling to the ground, holding himself up on all fours.

“Tell Chef to cook another batch.” You chimed while pressing your heel against the back of Trevor’s neck. His nose was crushed against the floor, his throat spilling out muffled moans and tearful murmurs that you couldn’t hear. “You don’t need Trevor’s permission. If we are out of products, we gotta make more, Ronald.”

Trevor was forced to listen to you control the business for the day as you made every reckless decision he would argue against. But he couldn’t. Not when he was gagged and pressed against the floor by your heel. The collar tightened due to you pulling on the leash and it made it harder to control the overstimulation. He couldn’t help but whine again.

“Give me a second, Ron. Hold on.” You placed the phone aside before grabbing his hair. Trevor moaned when he faced you. Your fingers was threatening to draw blood as he swore your nails were scratching at his scalp.  

“M- Mom… Mgh!” He cried.

“You’re making too much noise, baby.” You whispered gently when his eyes wettened. “I told you to be a good boy then I’ll let you cum again. Didn’t I?”

“Mgh… Uh…” Trevor nodded his head submissively.

The obedience made you grin. Your grip loosened and he fell back onto the floor, shaking. Trevor was unable to cope for himself as you returned the phone with a fake and joyful tone. “Sorry about that. Someone was at the door.”

He was visibly on the urge of coming again. His knees were weak and hands desperately grabbing your ankles for support. Despite the promise of being a good boy, Trevor was failing miserably. He groaned and arched his back as his cock twitched uncontrollably, cum pouring out and dripping onto his bedroom carpet, creating another white stain.

“Argh! – “

Ronald’s words were blurred out the moment you watched Trevor cum. The way he disobeyed you was enough to increase the blood circulating around your body. Your ears grew red and your stomach twirled at the possibilities of punishing Trevor in the most humiliating ways.

“Hey Ronnie…” You murmured into the phone. “Are you ever sick of having a boss like Trevor?”

When you gained the uncertain answer of “yes”, his voice fuelled with confusion and paranoia, you smiled and knelt to Trevor’s level, the phone still pressed against your ear. “I agree. He can be really bratty sometimes. Don’t you think?”

Trevor whimpered at your harsh insults. He shrivelled up when you came closer. He attempted to crawl away but you tugged him by the leash and he unwillingly fell back into your close proximity.

“It makes me wonder how someone can be such a cunt.” You expressed before grabbing his face and slapping it, the echo of the skin-to-skin violence interrupting the phone-call. While he moaned, you quickly covered it up by making another excuse. “Sorry. The neighbours dogs are loud today…”

Ronald questioned the dogs since he couldn’t recall any near Trevor’s trailer.

“Well, they just recently purchased a big dog. A real mean one. An ugly drooler too, all you can hear is panting and barking.” You lied and smirked as you described Trevor instead, holding him at your captivity. “It reminds me of someone. Don’t you think, Ron?”

Another tear streamed down Trevor’s face at the continuous bullying and degradation. He was enjoying it too much. He stared up at you and sobbed into the gag, hoping to get your attention, hating the way you were talking to Ron instead. His weak hands fell onto your ankles again – deprived of your love.

Though you tried to sacrifice as much of his desires, the way he frantically begged and touched your ankle distracted you from the phone. You looked down and saw him rocking against his knees, eyes wide when you finally took notice of him. Trevor whimpered loudly and tried to communicate his needs.

“You okay, sugar?” You ignored the call entirely and gently caressed his cheek, wiping away the repetitive trickles of tears.

“Mhm… Mm… Mmm.”

“You wanna cum?”

He nodded frantically again.

“You want my permission?”

“Mm!” Trevor whined.

“How bad do you wanna cum?” You asked and ensured Ron could hear the majority of the conversation to increase the tensity of Trevor’s punishment.

The only thing holding him back was the gag. He grabbed his collar and made rough noises while staring at you. His cock grew bright red and enflamed with the amount of pressure and sensitivity today. It was hurting him delightfully. However, you enforced a rule that morning. Though he had freedom of his hands, he was not aloud to touch himself. Trevor kept this promise. He stared up at you, his eyes asking you to help him cum.

“Good boy…” He practically moaned at your praise. You placed the phone on the nightstand, still on call, and unstrapped the gag around Trevor’s mouth.

The moment he regained the ability to speak, his voice cracked and was furiously high. “Fuck… Oh, yeah…”

“Your best buddy is still on the phone. He’s gonna hear you cum.” You said loudly and smirked when he panted.

“I need you, I need you,” Trevor repeated – not caring about Ron, “I need you, mama. Please – “

“God. You’re such a baby.” You threw the gag aside and forced him to his feet. His legs were shaking and he held onto your shoulders for stability while you grabbed onto his tormented cock.

Trevor winced and dug his nails into you. Your hands were hard on his erection. You weren’t gentle; you handled him with bitter gratitude and began to rub him cruelly. The pre-cum had made the skin slippery enough. The white semen stuck to your palm as you rubbed him down.

“It feels so good…” He whimpered into your neck. “Thank you, mommy. Thank you… Fuck…”

He was getting stiffer and stiffer by second, until it felt like you were rubbing rock. You knew he was going to cum again soon. While he stuck to your body pathetically, your hands gripped his tip hard, the sensation reaching his limit and cum drooling out.

“Holy fuck!” Trevor exclaimed as he experienced his sixth orgasm with you.

This was all played in front of Ron who was still on the line. You smirked when holding Trevor’s body weight, hearing the background noise of his employee awkwardly stuttering and excusing himself finally. It ended the moment Trevor turned to look at you.

He was exhausted and the collar around his neck was restricting his breathing. You fastened the strap and noticed the red mark it left. You hadn’t of realised how tight it was Trevor’s skin was irritated and burning from the immense pressure of leather to it. He itched it momentarily with a satisfied groan as you watched him carefully.

“How are you feeling?” You’d ask indifferently.

Trevor surprisingly seemed enchanted and energetic, though you had roughened him up the last few hours.

“You gotta do that more, ma.” He responded, accidentally using the bedroom terms where he’d call you provocative names to supress his trauma.

Nevertheless, it made you smile. “Yeah?”

“Mhm… Without Ron… On the phone.” His hands fell from your shoulders.

“Well, that’s too bad. Isn’t it?”

“Mama…” Trevor groaned quietly and sunk into your embrace. “Mmm…”

You were used to his clinginess after many, many climaxes. His lifestyle included the cranked up nights of zero sleep and drugged up veins, so you were happy he was at least feeling the after effects.

“Someone’s tired.”

“Shut up…” He muttered.

“Go to sleep?”

He was hesitant before nodding his head.

“I’ll be sure to make Ron call you later.” You added with a tease.

“Oh, shut up.”

[sanjisblackasswife]

Sanji Becomes More Dominant (Part 3) (VERY NSFW!!! + FLUFF)

Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 3.4k

Black Fem! Reader in mind

sorry this took so long lmao THIS is the final part btw

CW: Dom! Sanji, Sub! Reader, Praise, “Good Girl” Used, Slight Hand Kink(?), Sanji is wearing rings because jeeeeeezzzzz yes, Biting, Vibrating Toy/Tongue Ring Use, Spitting in mouth and vagina, slight Ab Riding, Titty Fucking, Oral sex, Vaginal sex, Boobjob, Sir Kink, Hair pulling, Choking, Sensual Massaging, Begging, Teasing, Reader Ejaculates Multiple Times, Orgasm Denial, Aftercare

“You like this don’t you, sweetheart?”

His slender fingers curled inside your cunt enhancing the wet noises coming out of you, if it didn’t feel so good you’d be crying from how sensitive you’re becoming.

Sanji couldn’t get over how much your pussy was drenched. The mixture of the oil and your arousal blended in with the scent of the vanilla candle making him nearly pussy drunk from the smell alone. With each thrust of his finger came a wetter sound than the last, his cold rings grazed your clit so deliciously making you clench a little, you wanted to feel embarrassed but the only thing you could feel was the knot forming under your belly to cum, Sanji’s one hand playing with your pussy and his other resting gently on your ass kneeding it a little, your toes were curling in anticipation, but—-

Sanji pulls out.

“Sanji!” You cried looking back, his eyes were dark as he sucked off his fingers moaning a little from your addictive taste.

“You didn’t say you wanted to cum, Y/N. You just wanted my fingers.”

“But—“

“Lay on Your back.” Was all he commanded as he threw off his shirt and pulled down his bottoms to free his cock he’s been neglecting this whole time.

You have him puppy dog eyes feeling your high die down quickly, but you turn on your back anyways with a slight pout. Sanji found it so cute, he climbed over your body, his skinny fingers rubbed against your breast, and dragged down to your tummy, but back up to your throat threatening to enclose his hand around it but he kissed you first.

“Can I fuck those pretty tits of yours, baby?” Not giving him an answer on time earned you a firm grasp of his fingers around your throat. You let out a pathetic gasp at the pressure around you, the cold silver rings adding a tightness to his hold. “Speak up, please.”

“Yes! Yes, Sir!”

He motioned you to hold up your breast, biting his lip at the lewd sight, he slid his Dick in between the fat part of them hissing, you seen how his pink tip emerged right in front of your mouth making you gasp.

“Spit on it.”

Being so obedient you dribbled some spit out on the tip. Sanji licked his lips seeing your plump lips so close around his cock like that, he used your saliva as lube to thrust in and out of your breast making you both moan.

You’ve never done this, you didn’t even think Sanji was into this because he has never asked but you were more than willing to let him, seeing his face contort with pleasure huffing out try to not whine too much was so attractive. What’s gotten into him?

“Open—ah! Your mouth!” You immediately did as told, he pulled out to aim right on your tongue. He hastened his pace to slap his cock on it a few times before letting it rest heavily on your little muscle. You never really had many times to have his dick in your mouth because he likes going down on you more but you took this opportunity to suck it weakly. “Fuck!… wait baby��!”

You heard him, but you didn’t really care to listen your thighs began to rub for some form of friction feeling it in your mouth, tasting him was something you’ve enjoyed doing. You couldn’t seem to get yourself to stop as you were slowly sucking him for all he’s worth, the noises of your slurping and popping of the lips made Sanji bend over and grip the headboard moaning out. He completely forgot how greedy and dangerous you were when you sucked his cock.

“Y-y/n! Fuck—!” You wanted more of him in your mouth so you pushed him a little. He slowly began to lay on his back holding up his elbows to watch your slutty little mouth try to fit him in entirely while laying beside him, you interchanged from stroking with your hands , to sucking and twirling your tongue. Sanji couldn’t help but to cry out and cum, feeling you swallow everything he had. You felt some of his semen ooze out of the corner of your mouth and he noticed.

“Nope..” He reached for the remnant and shoved it in your mouth, “don’t want you wasting all of that…there you go…”

You were back on your back sucking his fingers, Looking into his eyes made your spine arch slowly as if you were presenting your breast to him, he sucked his bottom lip, cock twitching at the lustful sight, his eyes moved at your untouched nipples, with his finger still in your mouth and hovered over teasingly rotating the tip of his tounge on the sensitive buttons earning a hum and a harsh suck on his digits.

Sanji closed his eyes moaning softly suckling your breast, you look down feeling your mouth now empty with both of his hands groping your chest and moving from one nipple to the other licking and kissing them so sweetly, his nose bled just a little. It was actually kind of hot to see him lose in composure .

“Fuck this—sit on my face.”

You nearly choked on air hearing his request. You were not a fan of sitting on his face, not because he was bad it was because you felt like that position was so embarrassing, Sanji noticed the contort on your face and caressed your cheek. Once again that feel of his cold silver rings made you feel so weak.

“Wont you…? Take a seat on your throne, darling?”

He laid beside you and grabbed you to straddle him, you were so soaked you felt your pussy damped his abs. You bit your lip trying to avoid his dark gaze, but all the while you’re doing something too naughty for Sanji to even comprehend,

“Woah, y/n!” He held your waist to stop your grinding, “You’ll ride my stomach but you won’t ride my face? Common let me taste you…”

“I um Sir….I don’t wanna—“

He swatted your left cheek making your shriek and look at him with widened eyes. He doesn’t spank you often but the sharp pain felt way too good, and Sanji knew from the slight feel of you clenching down on nothing,

“Sit on my face.”

You may have been on top of him, he may have dried blood under his nose, and his eyes shaped like small hearts, but you somehow felt so small. His body was hot and you felt a darken presence around him, you scoot your way up to grab ahold the headboard, mind going a mile a minute feeling Sanji’s mouth right under your soaked cunt.

“San—!”

“Sh sh sh shhh.” He parted your lips exposing the way your insides kept clenching for him, looking at the lewd sight of you made him spread you open further to stick his tongue inside.

The slither of it dragging in and out of your walls made your body sink further down, your thighs squeeze Sanji’s face, but he of course didn’t mind.

His hands were locked around them holding you down from escaping which scared you so much to the point you began to ignore the pleasure he was sending you, but your wonderful Mr. Prince knows your body like how he knows fish so he creeped his fingers to your untouched clit and swirled around inhaling more of your scent as you began to jerk and grind again.

You were moving the bed back and fourth on the wall trying to push yourself back to the orgasm that was stolen from you, your left thigh twitched on Sanji’s sweaty cheek signaling him that you were close.

And that’s when he pulled you off.

“SANJI!” Your Voice practically broke crying his name in frustration now laying on your back with him hovering over you, arms over your head as your semi pussy drunk boyfriend looked down at your panting wet slippery body.

“Sanji please let me cum on your tongue it’s not f—-!”

Your pouts were cut with your tounge being sucked and kissed on. Sanji kissed you with urgency and your returned the favor with neediness moaning about how much you wanted to cum, your eyes were still shut not noticing Sanji reaching above your head to grab the rectangle box he got just for you and pulled out the gift.

With a quick flick of his thumb you heard loud buzzing which stopped your kisses and turned into a lustful whine feeling this new contraption on your soft pulsating clit.

“FUCK!” You huffed letting your legs spread wider. Your eyes went back to your head biting your lower lip making Sanji press the toy down harder and stroke himself while watching. Your hands flew to his arm rolling the toy in hard wide circles with your hips moving with the direction of it.

Your orgasm was coming so close and even harder than it has all night you felt tears prickle down your cheeks huffing out, head shaking back and fourth.

You were a damn mess and Sanji couldn’t get enough of this sight.

“Cum for me, Princess.” His voice was ragged, barely holding himself together between your legs reaching the orgasm with you switching the vibrator from your clit to the top of his tip.

Your leg twitched again.

Right as your orgasm was at its peak Sanji couldn’t take it anymore and slid himself inside you with the toy still pressed on your clit. You hollered so loudly it nearly made your voice crack.

“SANJI!”

His pace wasn’t letting up even after cumming, his right hand above your head holding your hand and his left holding up one thigh making sure you both feel the vibrator on both of you. This wasn’t like any orgasm before you both were drooling, too pussy/Dick drunk and overstimulated to the point that all you could hear was the bed creaking, skin slapping, and rhythmic moaning from you both.

“ Y/N, FUCK—!”

Sanji couldn’t believe how addicting it was to fuck you like this, to have you crying like this, cumming like this, to have you begging for more like this.

This is all he wanted to do to you and more.

Slowing down his pace, and pulling away from your breast he moves your twitching limp body over on your stomach with care kissing your body all over in the process but not allowing the vibrator to shift from it’s rightful position on your clit. He put it on the highest setting out of pure selfishness and excitement making your whines much louder and body ache much faster. Yeah, cumming felt painful now, but the pain of it all felt even more amazing.

Sanji’s hips stuttered, both hands pressed on your hips, lower spine arched, and his cock dragged in and out of your worked cunt, his pelvis bouncing off your soft ass giving it a few smacks of appreciation now feeling the bottom of his stomach twist for another release inside you. He looked up at your pretty hair now getting messy from moving all over the bed. He was already on cloud 9, why not add on to the pleasure?

He moved his right hand to grab your scalp and do a gentle tug. He felt you clench down harder and hum,

“Fuck—-you like that baby?”

“Mmhmmm!” You Sing Holding in your lips hoping he pulls harder and he does, giving your back a beautiful arch further upwards than it was already.

You were pretty much fucked dumb at this point, from his cock and the vibrator you had no other thought in your mind except to finish on him one more time.

“Fais le maintenant, princess” (do it right now, Princess)

Sanji growls in your ear, he knows you wants to cum, he can feel your cunt squeeze him so tightly He couldnt help but to keep fucking himself into the back of you, on hand gripping your ass now and the other pulling your hair.

Your slutty noises bounced off the stuffy walls, the bed’s creaking coming to a slow stop, now nothing but panting and the muffled noise of the vibrator being heard between you both.

You couldn’t explain how your body felt, still feeling the toy pressed on your worn slit now that Sanji is against you to kiss your sweaty wet back again. You moan, his warm seed mixed with the oil and sweat, pooling out of your pussy, your pervy man couldnt help but to move back up and spread a cheek to see the damage.

“You’re so fucking Beautiful, my love.”

He pulled out but he wasn’t done. He didn’t want to be.

“Here.” He spoke rolling you over to your back again, your entire body jiggled, your chest rising and shaking as you exhale, you felt Sanji finally release Your continuous stimulation of the toy to place on the night stand. For a split second you hoped he didn’t toss it after all this.

Sanji hovered over you, caging you in his strong muscular arms. He looked so big and nearly intimidating to you, his eyes were a different hue of blue tonight, no longer was it the typical blue/grey he had, but it was darker and the moon light of the window bounced off of his heart shaped iris’ So Beautifully.

“You’re so pretty, Sanji…” you managed to whisper to him reaching for his face, you took him out of the daze he was falling in love all over again looking at you. You were in such a vulnerable state. Just for him.

All for him.

And only him.

Kissing your wrist he peppered all the way down to your lips, when you were met with his you felt as if he was going to leave you if he let go. He lowered himself moaning softly into your mouth as you held the back of his neck with one hand and locked hands with his other.

“That was probably the realest kiss you ever gave me..” He smiled, you nearly felt yourself getting warmer in the face, noticing your embarrassed pout he chuckled. “You okay?”

You nod, you still wasn’t sure what was up with Sanji tonight, but this was what you wanted, what you needed, so once again who were you to question it?

Sanji wanted to. He wanted to not push your limit too much tonight, but he was still a pervert at heart and wanted to try one more thing before he cleaned you up.

“Baby…..” His hands trailed down the sides of your body. You finally started to come down from your high, breathes now a bit regulated as you didnt look away from his face admiring your nude shape. “…I love you…”

You instinctively sucked your bottom lip trying not to break into a smile, but it failed. He smiled with you, but it was weakened, “I love you more, Sanji. Always will.”

Your sweet response made his cock twitch and his cheeks a bright pink, he cleared his throat and hopped off the bed. Your smile turned into a crooked one trying to follow where he was going.

“What are-—“

“Just play with yourself for me.”

You, being so obedient now shut your eyes slowly to play with your slit, it was unbearably soaked. You were still so sensitive you held your thighs together mewling softly for your man to come back to you already.

You felt a dip in the bed, opening your eyes to see Sanji fiddling with his tongue with one hand,

“Baby.” He smiles at you sweetly noticing your confused staring, your eyes widen to see the pretty jewelry in his tongue as he stuck it out at you making him chuckle.

“You never told me you had a tongue ring!” You laid back down as sanji hovered back over you.

Sanji looked so attractive with that piercing.

“It’s fake, but…if you want I can get a real one.” He pecked his lips on yours before trailing his attention down back to your cunt. “Just let me clean you up.”

“But why the t—-ohhhhh shit!”

To your surprise the pretty piece of jewlery was a small toy as well. The cold small metal vibrated against your cunt as the tip of his tongue ghosted around your hole. Sanji pressed his entire mouth onto your slit as he pushed your hips down into him.

It was sensory overload, the sucking, the licking the vibration it was all too much for your mind to wrap around.

Strips of drool slid down your cheek, vision once again blurred from tears, the overstimulation of it all had your back arched off the bed, nails clawing into his sheets.

“SSSSSSHIT SANJI!”

“Mmmhm.” Was all he hummed inside you, eyes shut, he felt so at ease tasting his and your cum mixing in his mouth to swallow. He moved his right hand to press down at your lower tummy as you came. The pressure caused your eyes to roll back nearly crying out, his name bouncing off the walls again in addition with his as he began to stroke his cock to cum with you.

Sanji took one last suckle to your clit to ride out your orgasm, pulling off of it with a satisfied popping sound. He sat up on his knees between your legs delicately.

“I know baby.” He pulled out the tongue ring to place on the nightstand as well. “I know.." You felt his sweaty palms massage your slippery thighs. You looked breath taking to him your hands covering your face, chest moving up and down trying to steady the pace of your breathing

"How...about we take a bath....hm? One more for the night?"

All you can do was hum, throwing your arms down Sanji takes the opportunity to plant feathered kisses over your neck and face. It almost felt like a palate cleanser. Your body was relaxed under his touch, coming down your your high again. Body still trembling subtly and to your boyfriend's shame he bites his lip at the effect he had on you.

"You okay? Was....I too ro--MMPH!"

You pulled Sanji down by his neck again for another kiss. Words couldn't describe how turned on you were of this "new side" of Sanji. The kiss got so messy his arms began to shake trying to hold himself up eventually letting go and having the last bit of strength you had to roll over on top of him, hand on his cheek to chin, moaning into his mouth as he did the same to you.

"F-fuck." Sanji huffed admiring the small glint of saliva still connecting you and him together. "I guess I wasn't rough huh?"

"You were perfect, Ji...Thank you."

You bury your face in his neck to hug his sweaty body, soaking in his scent, ugh you couldn't get enough of this man and he couldn't get enough of you.

"I love you, Ji."

He paused for a moment, he won't ever get used to your beautiful voice telling him such words. Seems unbelievable sometimes, but he held you close, peppering your shoulder. He could bask in this moment forever with you.

"How bout we take that bath huh."

"Yes, sir." You meant no sexual intent behind it but your felt his hands squeeze your bottom so roughly your jerked up from his neck to giggle.

He placed a blanket over your worn body and threw on some sweats to head back to the bathroom. Your mind was frazzled.

He set up the bathroom even prettier than his room, you both relaxed with soft music going in the back as you played with your man's rings in the tub.

"You hungry?"

"A little." You giggle already expecting Sanji to get out the tub to prep you a meal.

"Well when we finish I can make you whatever you like, my love."

"Thank you." You kissed his knuckles and he returned the favor with a kiss on your neck earning him a small whimper out of you.

This was exactly what you craved . What he desired. Sanji was a new man in your eyes---even better actually. There really was never a time you questioned his masculinity you always knew about his dominant side, but to see it here in bed was... amazing.

Sanji on the other hand fell more in love with you. The words you said was the push he needed.

[holyratrimony]

Summer Love at Bighorn Ranch

Pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything? 

Word count: 9.7k (how does this keep happening?)

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only, I’ll kick you in the knees I s2g, do not read this,  dry humping, premature ejaculation, coming in pants, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, older man/younger woman

A/N: This takes place during the 90s, John’s in his forties, R is like mid-20s, Jack is like 10 in this, hedgehogs are not rodents but John doesn’t need to know that, also R wears John’s clothes at one point (as someone who's plus size I think John would own pretty baggy clothes), John is mega horny in this (in like a very pathetic way), how’d angst get in here? (it's just a lil bit), John thinks he is in charge but R has him wrapped around her finger, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, not beta read

To say John wasn’t doing well would be an understatement. After the divorce with Abigail, he’d hit a bit of a midlife crisis. The first step was moving out and subsequently crashing in Dutch and Hosea’s guest room. The two older men were patient with him, lending him some much-needed emotional support as he processed his feelings. After about a month, one drastic haircut, and a new earring, John finally was ready to move out to a place of his own.

He’d decided to return to his roots, taking out a rather large loan and purchasing a run-down ranch on a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere called Bighorn Ranch. The land was green and vast with a mix of plains and forests. It only took three days of him trying to lay the foundations for the house alone before giving in and calling Charles and Javier for help. The two men had come to his aid quickly, and with three hands they were able to get the ranch house built within just a few months. Then the barn, stables, and coup went up, followed by a half dozen small cabins about a mile from the main house. Both Javier and Charles opted to live in the cabins despite John’s protests, stating that they wanted to give him his space in the house. Ranching made sense to John. It was something he was good at. Whether it was keeping up with all the chores or breaking in the wild mare Charles found wandering the plains. As the ranch grew, so did the need for more hands. Javier had been tasked with taking the truck into the nearby towns, the closest being 30 minutes away, and hanging up help-wanted posters. The new ranchers would live on the property in the remaining cabins and would be responsible for a mix of construction, maintenance, and handling of the animals. Within a few weeks, four new hands had joined the ranch. The hands were set to arrive on a sunny spring afternoon. John was waiting on the porch with Charles and Javier, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His hair was still growing back since the regrettable impulse cut, the ends reaching his ears. His beard was short, little more than stubble. The scars he’d gotten from a neighborhood dog when he was growing up cut through the dark hairs. He’d kept the small gold hoop in his ear despite the light teasing from Charles and Javier. The three men were discussing the horse show that was coming up next month when the sound of a car cut them off. The red and white Dodge Ram 2500 rumbled up the dirt drive, kicking up a small cloud behind it. The truck pulled up in front of the house, stopping next to John’s teal and silver Ford F-150. Three men in their twenties piled out of the truck, each sending a friendly smile and wave toward the older ranchers. John, Charles, and Javier made their way down the porch steps, John stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. The new hands introduced themselves, apparently all childhood friends which explained why they arrived together, shaking hands and giving names. After introductions, John showed the men around the main part of the ranch. Showing them the stables, the coup, and the different paddocks for the sheep, goats, and cows took up the better part of an hour. As they headed back towards the house John let them know that that was probably enough for right now. Once they were on the porch he explained the basic amenities in each cabin. They’d have electricity, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and a landline. John handed them each a slip of paper with the number for his line, letting them know that if they needed Charles or Javier they’d be living right next door. Charles offered to take the boys down to the cabins and Javier offered to join, citing that he needed to change out of his dusty work clothes. The boys hopped in their truck and followed after Javier and Charles, the cloud of dust slowly getting further and further away. John took a seat on one of the chairs on the porch, looking down over the property. There was still one new hand that was supposed to be arriving, likely within the next hour. John pulled another cigarette from his pocket, cupping his hand around his lighter as he flicked it, protecting the flame from the wind. Heady smoke filled his lungs as he leaned back. The three boys seemed nice. All were well-mannered and friendly. One of them, Riley, John thought his name was, said he’d worked at the MacFarlane’s ranch for a few years, dealing mainly with the horses. The other two mentioned they’d worked doing construction for the last few years. Apparently, they wanted more exciting work and while the MacFarlane’s didn’t have any more jobs available, they knew Bighorn was hiring and sent the boys in John’s direction. Javier had handled the applications, of which there were few. He was typically in charge of the business end of things despite the ranch belonging to John. Javier had a charm and refinement that was perfect for dealing with people and local businesses that John seemed to lack. John’s mind began to drift, as it often did when he was alone, to Abigail and Jack. He had Jack for a few days each month. The last time Jack came to visit, John had shown him how to ride. The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot but the time they spent together always felt special. Jack had a room in the ranch house, filled with his medieval fantasy books, a couple of his toys, and a small gaming setup with a sega genesis and little box tv. Jack had tried to teach John how to play Sonic but John was hopeless. His fingers were too big for the little buttons and he just couldn’t get the hang of moving that damn rodent around. He missed Jack, every damn day. Abigail too, but that was getting easier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires on the dirt road. A grey and blue Chevy Silverado pulled up the drive. John stood up, a slight groan leaving his lips. He was only in his forties but his years of hard living seemed to be catching up to him. He moved down the steps, his eyes trained on his boots until the sound of a car door slamming shut had him looking up. John’s heart stopped. Or he couldn’t breathe. Or he died. He wasn’t sure. All he could tell was that the woman in front of him was like a dream. The late afternoon sun shone on your form, bathing you in a golden glow. Your eyes were covered by sunglasses, a black shirt adored your torso while your legs were covered by a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots on your feet. Your smile was easygoing as you raised a hand in greeting. Your voice was kind and warm as you greeted him. “Hi! I’m one of the new ranch hands. Are you Javier?” John let out a laugh at that, trying to compose himself.   “No, no, I’m John. John Marston. I uhh… I own Bighorn.” He was trying not to let his eyes drag over your body but he couldn’t help himself. “Jav-Javier’s in charge of the business side of things, you’ll meet him later.” “Nice to meet you, Sir,�� A spike of heat seemed to pierce through John at the title. The smile etched on your face was radiant as you gave him your name. God, you were pretty. John cleared his throat as he attempted to avoid looking directly at you. “The other hands got here bout an hour ago. They’re down at the cabins right now. Ya wanna join them or do ya wanna tour of the ranch?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. He couldn’t help but wishing you’d take the tour. Selfishly hoping to get some one on one time with you before introducing you to the other men. He finally mustered the courage to look up at your face. Your smile seemed almost shy as you replied, stepping towards him slightly, “I think I’d like to see the ranch, Sir.” He was fucked. ~~~~~~ Having extra hands on the farm proved to be endlessly helpful as spring turned to summer. The animals that had been born only a few weeks after you and the boys arrived were growing bigger and bigger. The four of you also helped John and Charles bring some of the horses to a show in one of the neighboring towns, bringing in a pretty sum of cash. John was beginning to feel a little more at peace. The loans for the ranch were beginning to get smaller and smaller as he paid them off. The stress on his shoulders seemed to be lessening as the weeks went by. His self-deprecating thoughts being replaced with thoughts of you. To say John was enamored would be putting it lightly. To start with you were a good worker. Often working longer hours than necessary, going until you felt the job was complete. At the end of the day, you’d slump onto the steps of the porch, your shirt sticking to your chest, your skin glowing, a blissed-out smile on your face. John would come out and offer you a beer. There would normally be only five minutes where you were alone before the rest of the men joined the two of you. John tried not to resent it, knowing he had no claim over you, but god he wished he did. John found himself staring at you as you moved around the ranch. Whether you were carrying bales of hay to the stables, pounding in nails on the fence you were fixing, or helping break one of the new horses. John would let his gaze drag up and down your body before catching himself. He would reprimand himself. Reminding himself that you were a. Almost twenty years his junior, b. Likey dating one of the younger hands (a thought that had made him prone to snapping at the young men without much prompting), and c. wouldn’t want a broken man like him. He’d scold himself, telling himself he was a pervert for looking at you like that, for wanting to take you, claim you. But he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts from creeping in late at night. When his rough hands fisted his cock and he’d think about you on your knees for him, your lips and tongue running up and down his length as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Or how you’d feel wrapped around him. What you’d sound like as he took you from every position imaginable. How you’d react if he pinched your nipples, if he spanked you. Despite being alone in that big house he’d bite his fist as he came, moaning out your name as the drag of his hand became too much. When the lust had passed and his cock softened, cum drying on his stomach, and reality set in, he’d mutter to himself, “You’re a fool, Marston.” The sentiment never seemed to stick because he’d see you bend over in that pair of jeans the next morning and would be stuck fighting the arousal that seemed to surge through him for the rest of the day. He was jacking off like a teenager, seemingly unable to control himself. When he spoke to you he’d stumble over his words, never being able to fully articulate his thoughts before getting lost in your eyes or your smile. Charles and Javier had picked up on his infatuation. Relentlessly teasing him when it was just the three of them. There was one day you were going to run errands in town. You’d stopped by the house to ask if the men needed anything else picked up while you were there. The day was already blazing hot despite it only being midmorning and you’d opted for a sundress. The fabric was light and airy around your thighs, the neckline cutting down to show more of your chest than was strictly necessary. John, Charles, and Javier had been in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when you knocked, letting yourself in through the front door. “Hello?” Your sweet voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen,” Charles called back. When you entered the kitchen it took everything in John not to drop the mug he’d just grabbed from the cabinet. The flush on his cheeks was immediate. He could feel his jeans getting tighter as he took in your form. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly. He was only drawn out of his trance by Charles’ gentle elbow in his side. Luckily it seemed like you missed the small interaction. “Mornin’ y’all.” you nodded to Charles and Javier before turning to John. “I’m heading into town and was wondering if there’s anything you need me to pick up, Sir.” John could barely manage to shake his head. “T-that’s very nice of you but I think we’re all set sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. You nodded as you slipped your sunglasses onto your face. “Alright, I’ll see y’all, later.” You shot a dazzling smile towards the men as you turned, exiting the kitchen. John was able to stew in his slight mortification until the sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house. As the latch clicked John felt his friend's knowing gazes on him. Charles was the first to speak. “I’m not gonna lie to you, that was hard to watch. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?” The teasing lilt to his voice almost had John hiding his face in embarrassment. Javier clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, giving him what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, brother.” John let out a long groan, debating adding a bit of whiskey to his morning coffee. He was gonna need it if he had to put up with these two for the rest of the day. That night he came in the shower, fantasizing about fucking you dumb as you bent over in that pretty little dress for him. Then again later in his bed at the idea of your legs wrapped around his head, calling him sir as he ate you out until you cried. ~~~~~~ The storm that overtook the skies a few weeks later came out of nowhere. The dark and heavy purple clouds seemingly materialized out of the clear blue sky. Lightning and thunder breaking up the peaceful feeling of the ranch. John was in the house when the rain began to fall. The drops pounding against the roof creating an unrelenting din. He walked away from the window he was looking out to the phone in the hallway. He should probably call Charles and Javier. They’d taken the truck into town and were probably still at the mechanic seeing as the owner was an old friend. He dialed the number for the garage but was only met with static. One of the phone lines must have been knocked down in the storm. He’d have to check around the property whenever Charles and Javier returned with the truck, likely tomorrow at the earliest. John’s mind flashed to you, as it often did. He hoped you were back at your cabin, safe from the torrential rains. You’d been up at the ranch this morning but probably headed back with the boys earlier in the afternoon. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding, different from that of the raindrops. Someone was knocking on the door. He crossed the room, hand twisting the door open to reveal your drenched form. You were dripping wet. Your jeans were several shades darker than they had been earlier, your white t-shirt was essentially translucent. John tried to not stare at the black outline of your bra showing through the shirt or at the way the fabric clung to your skin, showing off your form perfectly. His gaze was brought back to your lips as you spoke. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Sir. I-I was with the horses when the storm started and the thunder spooked some of them. I had to round them up.” He shook his head at your words. “Come on inside darlin’, you must be freezing.” You nodded, stepping in off the porch and onto the mat inside the doorway as he stepped back, making room for you, letting the door shut behind you. “Let me go grab you a towel.” He grabbed his favorite towel from the bathroom, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that was unhelpfully pointing out that the soft fabric would soon be running over your body. As John came back out into the hallway he took in your form once again. You looked miserable and cold, trembling slightly. He handed you the towel, ignoring the spike of heat he felt as your hands brushed his. “Do you have your truck?” His raspy voice was gentler than usual. You shook your head. “Wanted to enjoy the walk this morning,” you chuckled slightly. “Well, I think that means you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit. The phones are down, the boys are at the cabins, and Charles and Javier are in town with the truck. ‘N I’m not risking you walkin’ back in this weather.” You nodded again, a small smile gracing your features at his concern. John was still trying his best not to stare at your chest, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the growing outline of his cock for much longer. “You’re welcome to the shower if ya’d like. And I’ll bring you a change of clothes too.” As you toed off your boots you let out a sweet “thank you”. John showed you to the bathroom, before running to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants. He placed them on the shelf in the bathroom before turning back to you. “The extra room is yours for tonight. If you need anythin’ just holler.” Your voice stopped him on the way out of the room. “Thank you, Sir. You’re very kind.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m just tryna help. ‘N you can jus call me John, sweetheart.” Your smile broadened a bit, “Well, thank you, John.” He nodded, barely finding the strength to close the door behind him. God, that was worse. His name falling from your lush lips. His mind grabbed onto the sound, playing with it, twisting it until he was imagining you calling it out from underneath him. As the latch clicked shut he leaned back onto the hallway walls, pressing the heel of his palm into his growing erection. “Get it together, Marston,” he muttered. He moved to the kitchen, trying to forget the shape of your body, the way the tops of your tits were visible through the wet fabric. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboards, pouring himself a generous amount. He quickly drank the amber liquid, hardly registering the burn in the back of his throat. He poured another glass, just taking a sip from it this time. He could hear the water from the showerhead, even in the kitchen, and was trying to not get distracted by the thought of your body in the shower. He wished he could walk in there, wrapping his arms around you as you rinsed the day off. He’d trail soft kisses over your neck as he lathered soap over your form. He could imagine the noises you’d make as he kneaded your shoulders, the little groans that would leave your perfect lips. He shook his head, he needed to distract himself. His eyes caught on the clock across the room, it was getting late, and the both of you would probably be hungry soon. He opened the fridge and glanced over the contents. The mostly empty shelves seemed to glare back at him. He dropped his head into his hands, frustrated at himself. You were in his home and he couldn’t even make you a proper meal. He was so distracted by his perceived downfall that he didn’t hear the shower turning off, nor the click of the bathroom door and the footsteps that followed. “Sir?” Your gentle voice pulled his eyes up. You were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, his sweatpants hugging your hips. His gaze dragged up and down your body. You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hardened from the cold, the outline of them visible through the worn material. His voice was gruffer than usual as he forced it out around the lump in his throat, making his eyes meet yours. “I thought I told you to call me John, darlin’.” You nodded sweetly. “Alright, John.” His name sounded so sweet on your lips. He needed some sort of distraction. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter, raising it for you to look at. “D’ya want a glass?” “I’d very much like that, thank you.” “How was your shower,” His full focus was on pouring a glass for you and topping off his own. Looking at you was almost too much. “It was really nice. Your water pressure is amazing!” your exclamation had John stiffening in his jeans once again. The idea of you in the shower, groaning as the water hit your shoulders, running in rivulets down your chest. He put the bottle back on the counter a little harder than he meant to, turning around to hand you your glass. The amber liquid on his tongue was a necessity for this situation. “I’d uh, I’d offer ya dinner but ‘m not much of a cook.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck at the admission, his cheeks tinted red. He was a grown man and the majority of his meals came frozen or from a can. “I could make something for us,” your voice was kind, soothing almost. John shook his head almost immediately. “I’m not gonna make you do that darlin’. Don’t want you to have to take care of my ass.” “I really don’t mind it, John. Plus I’d like to eat at some point.” Your tone was lighthearted as you grinned at him. After a little more back and forth he conceded, allowing you to take over the kitchen. You shooed him out of the room, telling him it’d be ready soon. John settled in the living room, flipping on the tv to try and drown out the thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to stop. The whiskey wasn’t doing much to help. He’d occasionally flip between channels, but nothing was quite able to grab his attention. The idea of you in his house, in his kitchen, in his clothes was so domestic. The idea of walking up behind you while you cooked, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, it was intoxicating to him. But he couldn’t lie and say his thoughts were completely innocent. Images of you in various compromising positions kept flashing through his mind, now accompanied by the sound of you whining his name. About half an hour later you emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti, setting them down on the dining room table. When John walked over to join you the smell hit him. It was heavenly. How you’d pulled together something like this out of the pathetic ingredients he had available was incredible. As the two of you ate dinner you made idle conversation. John had talked to you a few times since you came to the ranch but he could never seem to hold a conversation. Too overwhelmed by your presence when you were close to him. Now he didn’t have much of a choice. He learned a little bit more about your life before you came to work at Bighorn. When you’d both finished eating, John offered to clean the dishes. You didn’t argue, letting him gather the dirty plates. “It's still pretty early so if you want to put on a movie while I clean up, you're more than welcome to.” You agreed and he told you where to find the tape collection. As he washed the plates in the kitchen he scolded himself. You’re too old for her, Marston. Pretty young things like her aren't interested in broken men. You’re an old fool. Once the dishes were cleaned he took a moment to lean against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He had to get it together. As far as he should be concerned you're just his employee and he should treat you as such. Seeing as he’d finished his whiskey before you had brought out dinner, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He called your name towards the living room, asking if you wanted one too. You shouted back a yes. He uncapped the two beers and walked back to the living room. You were curled up on the right side of the couch, your legs tucked up off the floor, a blanket from the chest near the window wrapped around you. You looked warm and comfortable. John pointedly ignored the pang of affection that shot through his chest as he handed you your beer. The couch was small but he still tried to give you space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But even with his hip pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs still brushed against his thigh. He had to keep his breath steady as he could feel the warmth from your body. He recognized the movie you picked as Jurassic Park, one of Jack’s favorites. You were only at the part where the scientists were on their way to the island. “‘S a good choice,” he gestured at the tv. “The movie I mean.” “It’s one of my favorites!” God your smile was cute. He wanted to make you smile all the time. As the movie continued, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. However, John was very aware of your presence next to him. Of the press of your legs against his. In trying to ignore the heat in his stomach and the feeling of you right next to him, he was staring very hard at the tv. When Ellie jumped off the ride to go look at the stegosaurus, you shifted towards him, moving your legs to the other side of you, your torso almost pressing into his side. “I still can’t believe how real it looks! It's crazy!” The excitement in your voice made a smile form on John’s face. Subconsciously, he moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving you room to move in, to lean against him if you so desired. He didn’t even register he had done it until he felt your body press against his, tucking yourself under his arm. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his breath at the realization that you were willingly cuddling up to him. He was sure you could probably hear his heartbeat from your new position. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie but it was hopeless, his gaze focused intently on you. When you raised your head to look at him he wasn’t quick enough. You’d caught him. He was caught off guard by your hand pressing into his chest as you pushed yourself up. You were still close to him, but you were now upright, your chest turned towards him. Your gaze was calculating as your tongue traced along your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the movement. The indecision seemed to leave your eyes as you noticed what he was staring at. You leaned towards him slightly. “John,” your voice was soft as he finally was able to drag his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were dark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Kiss me.” His brain stopped. Or his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All he could manage was a small nod. His hand moved to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate, a mess of tongues and lips, of gasping breaths. John ignored every part of his brain that was telling him to stop. That you were too young for him, that you were his employee, all of the reasons that he shouldn’t let this happen. The feeling of you drowned out everything else. When he nibbled on your bottom lip, you let out a small moan. The sound sent blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted to do was draw those noises out of you. To hear every little sound you’d make in the throes of pleasure. Your kisses were as greedy as his, seemingly trying to savor every second of your embrace. He was able to pull himself away for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands came to cradle your head in his large hands. “Darlin’,” his voice was rougher than usual. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want an ol’ man like me?” The glare you gave him was more chiding than actually frustrated. “First of all, you're not old. Second, I’ve wanted this since I started working here. Wanted you since that first day.” Your confession sent a shiver through John. “Really,” he couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone that laced his voice. You nodded, smiling at him. “How could I not?” Your answer was simple but it sent a swirl of affection and mild pride through him. He moved a hand to your waist, you seemed to take it as an invitation to move onto his lap. Swinging your body so your legs rested on either side of his thighs. In this position, John allowed his hands to roam over your body. Tracing up your back, trailing down your sides, he let them come to rest on your ass, grabbing the flesh and pulling you against him slightly. The movement caused your hips to press against his hardness. You gasped loudly. His first reaction was worry that he’d done something wrong, but that thought left his mind when you rolled your hips against his again. He was painfully hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He could feel the small wet spot forming in his underwear, his tip leaking precum. Each move of your hips felt like heaven. The feeling of you, in his lap, wearing his clothes, making those desperate little sounds as you ground yourself against him, was better than any of the fantasies he’d had. He was meeting your movements, thrusting up. The feeling was overwhelming, and when you attached your lips to his neck he keened. He let his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, just trailing them along the soft skin of your hips at first. When you didn’t make any move to stop him, he began to trace higher and higher. Fingertips brushing over your sides, your ribs, and then your tits. God, they were so soft. He let his hands pinch your nipples experimentally. You had to move your mouth from his neck when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Do that again,” your voice was tantalizingly desperate. “Please, John.” He complied, unable to deny you anything you asked for. His fingers twisted and pulled at your sensitive buds, rewarding him with your gasps and breathy moans. He pushed you back slightly in his lap, moving you so you were sat upright. He looked up at you as he brought his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple while continuing his ministrations on the other. The look on your face was the prettiest thing John had ever seen. Your lips were parted, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on. You’d paused your hips when he moved you, allowing his pleasure to subside. When your eyes opened, your pupils were blown wide and lust practically dripping from your gaze, he couldn’t help himself from thrusting his hips to yours. His hands moved back to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled his hips again, the pressure from your body providing him the slightest bit of relief. He’d been able to calm himself for a little bit, but with his hips humping against you and the look in your eyes, he was driving himself toward the edge again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about the needy moans leaving his mouth. It was almost without warning that he felt the pleasure in him swell as his balls drew up. The stimulation of your warm body rubbing against him sending him over the edge. His cock pulsed in his jeans, releasing spurt after spurt of hot cum. He came with a harsh gasp followed by an embarrassing whine of your name, his hands clutching you tightly as he kept humping you, drawing out the sensations. When his high began to subside he was overtaken with embarrassment. He’d finally gotten a chance with you and he’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager.   Your voice was small. “Um…John. Did you…did you just cum.” All he could do was nod as he buried his head in your shoulder, unable to fully look at you. Your hands buried into his hair, holding him sweetly. “It’s okay, John. It happens.” He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He’d ruined his chance. “I-I’m so sorry.” he managed to get out. You let out a soft coo as your hands moved to cradle his face. “You’ve got nothing’ to be sorry for. I promise.” He tilted his head up, his gaze meeting yours. There was nothing in your eyes to indicate disgust or displeasure, just kindness. He nodded dumbly as he took you in. “Wanted this to be good for you, sweetheart. Been thinking of this for ages and I fucked it up.” You shook your head. “What makes you think you won’t be able to make it up to me?” your smile was teasing as you tilted his chin upwards. Hope sparked in his chest at your words. “Like right now?” desperation leaked into his voice. You nodded sweetly. “If that’s okay with you.” John couldn’t stop his overenthusiastic nod. “Well in that case I think I owe you somethin’” He shifted you off his lap, allowing you to stand. “My bedrooms, the door on your right, down that hallway there. I'll be there in just a moment.” As he stood you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing your lips to his once again. You then leaned in, allowing your lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You better, or I’ll be left with no choice but to take care of myself,” you pushed away from him, a sly grin on your face as you shot him a wink and started in the direction of his room. John watched you leave, letting his eyes drag over your form, his thoughts notably absent of the guilt that would plague him whenever he’d looked at you before. When you were out of sight, he went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up. As he walked towards his room he felt what could only be described as butterflies in his stomach. You were far too good for him, in every single way, but you were here, you wanted to be with him, to have him touch you. He couldn’t help the dopey smile that broke out across his face. He pushed open the bedroom door to find you standing in the middle of the room, seemingly taking in your surroundings. At the sound of his footsteps, you turned to face him. “You ready to make it up to me, Mr. Marston?” Your teasing voice was cut off as he closed the space between the two of you and pulled your body into his. His lips crashed into yours, his hand coming to rest on your jaw. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, almost asking permission, which you granted. You tasted like the whiskey from earlier. He began to walk you backward, your steps hesitant until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you fell onto your back. You looked so beautiful below him. You scooted yourself toward the headboard as he dropped his knees onto the mattress. He moved up until he was settled between your legs, his body pressed to the bed as his hands came to rest on your thighs. “I wanna taste you darlin’,” his fingers brushed against the exposed bit of skin that was visible between your shirt and the band of your sweatpants. “Would that be alright with you?” When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, your pupils had swallowed your irises. Your gaze was heavy with lust, your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. “Please, John. Need you.” His hands hooked over the band of your sweatpants, pulling them down over the tops of your thighs. He couldn’t look away as more and more of you was revealed. As soon as the sweatpants had slipped off your feet, his mouth met your inner thigh. His hands moved to the insides of your knees, gently pushing you apart for him. He traded between kisses and gentle nips as his mouth trailed over the sensitive skin. “Take off your shirt for me sweetheart.” his voice was low, filled with desire. You quickly obeyed, tossing the fabric to the floor and settling back against the bed. John couldn’t believe that he was here, between your thighs. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about this, in this same bed as he fucked his hand. And now it was happening, it was real. He felt his cock jump slightly, blood beginning to return to it. You were whimpering under him, clearly frustrated at the lack of attention being paid to your dripping cunt. He could see the small wet patch forming on the cotton that covered you and his mouth watered. He couldn’t resist dragging a finger over your clothed slit as his mouth continued along your thigh. You let out a high-pitched moan when his finger ghosted over your clit. God, he wanted to draw more of those noises from your sweet lips. “Don’t be impatient now, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” His voice was even raspier than usual, dripping with lust. You thrust your hips slightly at his words, trying to get more from him. He pressed your hips back to the bed with one hand, holding you still, tutting his tongue at you. He dragged his mouth higher, his lips pressing against the cotton of your panties. He smirked slightly before grabbing the hem of them between his teeth and dragging them down your hips. When you were rid of them, he couldn’t help but take you in. “John,” your voice was sweet with want. With need. His hands moved back to your inner knees, pushing your legs apart for him. Your cunt glistened with slick, the insides of your thighs shining with it as well. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He was laying between your legs again, his face only inches from your heat. This was better than anything he’d imagined. You were a dream and he wanted to show you how much he wanted this, wanted you. You let out the most intoxicating noise when he licked a broad stripe over your entrance, his nose bumping your clit. Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets at your sides, moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted to drink you in, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. He wanted to drag it out. To tease you with soft licks, turn you into a begging mess. But that would take patience and John Marston was not a patient man. He buried his face in your pussy. His tongue laving over you as his nose rubbed against your clit. If he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. His hands dug into your hips as he dragged you closer to his mouth. He was trying to memorize everything that made you moan, made you tug on his hair, or try to grind your hips against his mouth. The moan you let out when he wrapped his lips around your clit was absolutely sinful. “Johnnn,” your breath was labored, making it hard to form full sentences. “P-please,” you begged. “Please what, darlin’? What d’ya need?” His voice was teasing as his gaze met your lust-darkened eyes. “Please finger me, please. I need it, please, please, John.” He would’ve liked to tease you more but he was quickly realizing that he couldn’t resist doing anything you asked of him. “How could I say no when you sound so sweet beggin’ for me.” He brought his mouth back to your clit as one of his fingers traced lightly over your slit. You were so goddamn wet, the mix of your slick and his spit shining in the low light of the room. You shivered when he pushed a finger in, just to the first knuckle. He felt you clench at the invasion, making him let out a soft groan. He pushed his finger fully inside you, crooking it up to press against your walls. You let out a loud whiny moan at the sensation. He continued slowly dragging his digit in and out, brushing against your g-spot each time. He wanted to draw this out, show you how good he could make you feel. His mouth continued the assault on your clit, as he finally gave in and added another finger, much to your delight. Your hips rocked against his hand with each thrust, your back arching when he would slowly brush over that sensitive spot. He could feel you getting wetter, your breaths becoming shorter, the words leaving your lips barely discernible. “J-John, I-I’m gonna cum,” he could barely hear you as you wrapped your thighs around his head, your hand yanking on his hair, pulling him closer to you, trying to reach your peak. He sped up slightly, not enough to disrupt your pleasure, but just enough to have you gasping loudly. John felt you clench around his fingers, once, twice, and then you came. Looking back on it, he wished he could’ve seen your face, but he was so lost in lapping up the rush of slick from you. He could do this for hours, knelt between your legs, eating you out until you were exhausted or until he had his fill, whichever came first. He only pulled off of you when you tugged his hair trying to push him off as your thighs fell back to the mattress. He looked up at you, taking in your disheveled face. Your lips were slightly swollen from your teeth biting into them, your eyes were dark, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breath. “Sorry darlin’, ya just taste so good. Couldn’t help myself.” He was grinning like an idiot. You returned his smile as you muttered, “you’re damn good at that.” “That mean I make it up to ya?” You nodded, “Doesn’t mean we’re done here though.” John’s cock jumped at that. Eating you out had turned him on more than he’d care to admit, his cock had become hard and heavy, pressed against the mattress. “Thank god for that,” his raspy voice was only slightly teasing. A small smile broke out across your face as you shook your head at him, your hands pulling him up to you. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought driving him slightly crazy. He’d propped himself up, his arms on either side of you, keeping mind to not let his whole weight rest on you. You pulled back, the look in your eye intrigued him. You looked like you had a plan. Before he could register what was happening, you’d flipped him over, sitting on top of him, your body on display. You leaned forward slightly, your finger trailing along the buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing.” John could only bring himself to nod, as he took in your form. He was in awe. Your fingers began to work on his buttons, undoing them one by one. As more of his chest was revealed you brought your mouth to gently kiss across his skin. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his heart pounding as you showed him a gentleness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your touches were light and adoring. As more of him was revealed to you, compliments and sweet words spilled from your lips. Your lips trailed across the scars that littered his chest, murmuring, “you’re so beautiful, John.” He felt like he was being worshiped. Like you were treating him like something to be treasured. When your fingers undid the last button of his shirt, you helped him slip it off of his shoulders, tossing the fabric to the floor to join the other discarded garments. Your hands traced along his chest, running through the smattering of hair across his pecs. Your hands drifted down further, your fingers dragging lightly through the dark hair of his happy trail. They came to rest on the waistband of his jeans, tucking underneath the fabric slightly, your nails teasing the sensitive skin. Your eyes were dark as you looked up at him, asking for permission. He nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. You made quick work of the button and zipper, your fingers once again hooking over the sides as you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock sprang up from the fabric, leaking and red, the head practically dripping precum. John knew his dick wasn’t something to scoff at but he still felt self-conscious. That was until he raised his eyes to your face. “Oh, John,” your words were soft, you seemed transfixed, your hand coming up to wrap around him, your fingers only barely able to touch around his girth. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the pressure. Your hands were light, tracing along the vein that ran up his length, ghosting over the head, your thumb swept at the slit, catching a drop of precum. He was captivated as you brought your thumb to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste it. He couldn’t take this slow teasing, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside of you. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you before flipping the two of you once again. God, you were so beautiful. His naked body pressing against yours. His hand reached up to trace your jaw, fingers coming to a rest on your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Are you sure you want this?” As much as he dreamt of you, as much as he wanted this, he needed to know you felt the same. That this wasn’t something one-sided. Your hands reached around him, settling on the back of his neck, the smile you gave him was sweet, the lust in your eyes seeming to give way to something softer, something he’d dare call adoring. “John, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been the one pursuing you all night. I know what I want. I know I want you.” He couldn’t formulate a response aside from bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet at first but quickly sank back into something laced with sinful intents. He only pulled back to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, his hands tracing over the contents, searching for a condom. “John,” your voice was smaller than it had been a minute ago. “I-I’m clean. Got tested a bit ago. I, uh, I’m also on the pill.” His gaze was unable to leave your face as he tried to make sense of the words. His brain short-circuiting. When he didn’t respond, you continued, “S-so, I mean if you’re clean, we- I’m okay if we don’t use one.” He nodded, slowly at first, then with barely contained enthusiasm. “God, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as his lips met yours once again. The kiss was chaste, cut short by both of your eagerness. John moved back, kneeling between your legs, one hand languidly stroking his cock as he looked down at you. He used his other hand to help scoot you forward, tipping your hips up slightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. He ran his tip over your entrance, tapping it against your clit. A shudder ran through your body as you let out a frustrated groan. He did it again, relishing in the way you squirmed as he refused to give you what you so desperately needed. “John,” your voice was clipped, stern. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave and go finished myself off…alone.” He got the message, letting his tip stop at your dripping entrance before pushing in slowly. The heat and the tightness that met him was almost overwhelming. He had to stop himself from pushing in all the way in one go. He tried to go slowly, an inch at a time, but the way you were wrapped around his length was too much. Before he could stop himself, his hips thrust forward, entering you to the hilt, his balls pressed against your ass. He managed to let out a strangled, “sorry,” as he rested inside you, unmoving. You had gasped at the sudden movement, but now with him still, pressing incessantly into your g-spot, you were beginning to gyrate your hips, encouraging him to begin to move. His hands had come to rest beside your head, holding his body over yours as he slowly brought his hips back before thrusting into you. You moaned loudly as his body met yours. The pace he started was slow, purposeful. One of his hands moved to cup your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his in an almost loving kiss. He was holding back, not wanting to speed up for fear of hurting you. You seemed to not care as you pulled your lips back from him. Your gaze met his, it was hard and determined. “I’m not a doll, John. I'm not gonna break.” You brought your lips to his ear, the brush of them sending shivers down his spine as you whispered, “been waiting for this for months. Fuck me like you mean it.” You barely had time to draw back before he began to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. The moans leaving your mouth were heavenly, intoxicating. He wanted more. He moved his lips to your throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin. The whine you let out when he nipped you particularly hard had him grinning against your neck. He brought a hand up to your tits, tweaking your nipples like he did earlier on the couch, teasing you. He felt you grip down on him whenever he pulled or pinched especially hard. He was panting, both from the physical excretion as well as the overwhelming pleasure. He could hear how wet you were with each thrust, the noises your body made driving him to thrust a little harder. “You were fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart,” he growled out between breaths. As heat coiled in his stomach, he kept remembering what you had said. How you wanted him to cum inside of you, how you’d wanted him for months. He needed to see it when it happened. Needed to see what you’d look like stuffed full of his cum. His thrusts slowed as he shifted off your neck, his hand leaving your chest as he sat up. He removed your legs from his waist and instead lifted them until they rested on his shoulders. When he leaned back down again, his hands came to rest on either side of your head, essentially folding you in half. He gave a hard thrust into you. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each stroke. Even though you felt tight before, now every move he made had you squeezing him. He knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer but he had to make you cum before he did. Had to give you a reason to do this again. You were letting out a steady stream of curses each time he pounded into you. Your hands gripping the sheets, bunching them tightly in your fists. Your eyes were black with lust and your mouth hung open, sweat shone on your forehead and chest. You looked like a fucking angel. John couldn’t help the praise that dripped from his lips. “You’re such a good girl for me, ain’tcha. Taking me so fuckin’ well.” He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. “Wanted you since I first saw ya. Wanted to take ya right on the porch.” “John,” you let out a breathy whine. He kept going, “that day you came over in that stupid sundress. Looked so sweet in it. All dolled up. Wanted to bend you over. Wanted to fuck you until you were screaming my name.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, emphasizing his words. “W-wore it for you,” you managed to get out around harsh moans. He could barely think through the fog of pleasure that permeated his brain. “That’s my girl,” he grunted. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his chest flushed red, sweat beading on his skin. He was so fucking close, for the second time that night. You’d made a mess of him. “Fuck,” your body seemed to be almost shaking with pleasure. “J-John, I’m gonna cum. P-please don’t stop, feels so good.” He kept his pace and seconds later you were clamping down on him like a vice. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. The sensation of you squeezing around him sent him right to the brink of his orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, his balls drawing up, his pants becoming harsher. “C-cum inside me, John. please,” your worn voice all but begged as your eyes met his. Those words were the final push that threw him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling inside you. His vision was overtaken by white. He rocked into you as the waves overtook him. He could feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips, in his toes. When he seemingly came back into himself, the sight that greeted him was heavenly. You were spread below him, chest still heaving, bottom lip swollen from kisses and bites. Your hands which had been gripping the sheets now ran up and down his sides, helping bring him back down from the mind-blowing orgasm. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a soft grunt. He couldn’t help but watch as his seed leaked from your hole. His fingers moved without thought to stuff his spend back inside you. He only stopped when you let out a slightly pained moan, igniting a feeling of worry in his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” You smiled and chuckled weakly, “s’okay, just sensitive right now.” He wanted to press a gentle kiss to your temple but couldn’t muster up the courage. He stood up from the bed with a small groan. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, gonna clean up.” He stumbled off towards the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping himself down before tossing it into the hamper. He grabbed another cloth, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold before he wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. You were in the same position as you’d been when he left, but now your legs were closed. He knelt before you on the bed. “You okay with me cleanin’ you up?” you nodded sweetly, your eyes closing as he gently swiped the rag over you. When he was done, he tossed the rag to the side, letting it join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He didn’t want your time together to end, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and the doubts were beginning to creep in on the edge of his mind. “You, uh, you don’t have to sleep here, with me, if you don’t want,” he started, staring at his hands. “The other room’s still free if you'd like.” When he brought his gaze to yours he was met with something he could only describe as affection. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s alright with you,” your voice was kind as you smiled at him. “Now come to bed, I’m getting cold here all alone.” He couldn’t contain the grin that broke out on his face. He laid down on his back, his arm outstretched, inviting you in. You curled right into his side, your head coming to rest on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you close. Despite just being inside you, the gentle cuddling had him blushing harder than he had all night. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, under a sky of dark clouds, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof, you were his and he was yours. And that was good enough.

I know this was super long for a one-shot smut fic but if you made it all the way through, I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing smut from a man's perspective so I'm sorry if anything was weird. I just love John Marston very much <3 Comments/criticisms are always welcome! Crossposted on AO3 @holyratrimony​ <3333

Taglist: @cowboydisaster​

This fic was inspired by this post by @butchdutch

[mggsv]

Interrogated

suspect afab!reader x aaron hotch hotchner

the way this popped into my head should be especially illegal in so many ways. eat up hotchies ily <3

summary: As a suspect taken in for questioning it’ll be reasonable for the interrogator to be inside the room with you..instead hes outside watching you while you touch yourself

warnings: masturbation, unplanned public sex act, slight edging, slight degradation (from reader to self)

not proof read !

When he first walked into the room wearing that suit you couldn’t tear your eyes off of him The way he stared at you so intensely..like he could break you in one touch. It struck a match inside of you- that fire you couldn’t put out. Agent Hotchner, Hotch they called him. It almost wanted you to be guilty-you weren’t-but man if you were would he…

You weren’t sure. “I’m innocent.” you spoke clearly to him. you knew the rest of his team were watching. Your thighs rubbed together as you tried to keep your composure, but man was it hard…Hotch took notice of this of course, it was his job after all. “witnesses put you at the scene.”

“I live there.”

“Then why wouldn’t you be a suspect?”

“You tell me it’s your job.” There was a faint of a smirk on his lips before he stood, walking out of the room. There was a slight wet spot poking at your panties. Your sex thrived, it craved. You look at the glass window, staring at your own reflection before your eyes trained on the silver table and your thighs that tried to stimulate your wet cunt.

you weren’t sure how long you were in that room, agents going in and out asking you the same thing- you figured after the cute one Reid came in they finally realized you were innocent. You thought about Hotch and his gaze. You were practically leaking by the hour..

Your hand grazed your thigh- thank the stars you wore a skirt, you spread them slightly, just enough for your hand to rub your swollen clit through the thin wet material. You bite your lip to hold in the moan. Your finger grazes your nub again, pressing down to feel just how much you throbbed..how much you wanted “Hotch..” you moan out silently, pulling your panties to the side. Your finger dipped into your sex, whimpering at how wet your were- how wet Hotch made you.

It was embarrassing to say the least. Getting off in an interrogation room, knowing that someone could be watching you. Would they take you in? Look at you like you’re down right crazy yes- but they can’t arrest you.. you hoped.

“H..Hotch- Fuck.” you hated holding back your moans; you hated limiting how loud you could be. Your head was laying on the table while you fingered your cunt. Three fingers in you were losing your mind. Your eyes were rolling, your other hand thumbing your clit..you imagined his tongue lapping at you like a dog and water. You saw him fucking your throat while you came over your hands like a pathetic slut. You saw him bending you over on this table and devouring you while you cried to him about how innocent you were.

The thought alone made your body twitch and your legs shake as they closed around your hand, your orgasm strong. You whimpered and panted, clenching your toes.

Suddenly the door opens, and he clears his throat. You couldn’t look up, your fingers itching for another orgasm- your sex leaking for his cock.

“You’re free to go.” Hotch says, but the door closes. “But i’d like to do some follow up questions just in case..”

[nahoyasboyfriend]

thinking about collaring James. it would be so pretty, black leather with a silver nameplate that's shaped like a dog bone. the name tag jolts forward with every thrust of his hips. he fucks you with carnal need, a desperateness that filters through with every harsh thrust. his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. it's exhilarating to see James so pent up, pathetically humping into you. he's donning the mask he usually wears when he murdering someone. it makes him unrecognizable, and in a sick way, you enjoyed how horrifying he looked. his grunts are distorted by the leather, making him sound animalistic. inhuman, even. feral and unhinged, driven by need and nothing else. and if you didn't have his leash clutched in your hand, it would've been scary.

his hips stuttered, and you tugged his leash hard, "Don't. cum."

he lets out a pitiful whine, and it makes your cunt flutter around his cock. he sounds so needy. you can feel his pace faltering, probably in an attempt to keep himself from teetering over the edge.

you frown, "don't slow down."

you can fill the way his cock twitches inside of you. he's so close, close enough that if you told him to cum, he could. he could just snatch it, cum deep inside of warm, wet pussy. but James had promised, assured you that he'd play by your rules. that was before he had known that your rules would be so deliciously cruel. he doesn't know how long you have kept him on edge, pent up with no release, but he was certain it had been at least half an hour. he was so hard it hurt, his only motive was to cum as soon as possible. it repeated in his head like a broken record. and you looked so beautiful for such a devilish girl, you mouth agape from the pleasure, your boobs bouncing everywhere time his hips met yours, but the view only tortured him further. it was utterly infuriating.

sifting through ways he could convince you to take mercy on him, he searched for things he hadn't tried before. James was never one to beg for anything he wanted, he was above it. if he wanted something he'd earn it or if it was within his reach he'd simply take it. however with neither of those options available, he realized he'd have to swallow his pride, just this once, and only to you.

"dearest, let me cum. I'm asking," he paused, rethinking his word choice. "no, I'm begging you, please."

and with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. you reply with a curt, "no."

his voice may have been warped by the mask, but the neediness was so distinct, dripping from every syllable. it was addicting. James, who's usually so calm and collected, was falling apart at the seams.

at this realization, your orgasm rushed at you like a bullet. unexpectedly and unrelenting. your back arched off the bed, "keep going, James" and "don't stop" were the only words that left your mouth. the band in your tummy snaps, and you're already gushing around him. it's mesmerizing to James, you're so pretty when you unravel beneath him, but he can't help but be annoyed that he isn't cumming with you.

when you catch your breath, you mumble, "make me cum again, and I'll let you cum."

[boatslut]

bold and controversial opinion i HAVE to say: people hate silver the hedgehog purely because he's from a shitty and notoriously disappointing game.

if he was in a good game, people would like him because:

hes sad and pathetic. a wet dog of a hog. people love depressed born in a wet cardboard box all alone type characters.

hes kinda stupid. a dumby. booboo the fool.

he's got cool telekinetic powers (that actually would be fun if the game was. yknow. well made.) and thats always fun

his gay vibes are off the chart

fucked up life situation. trying his hardest. traits people admire

theres something to like out of all that. idk what im getting at with this im just mad people exclusively associate him w/ 06's whole [gestures] instead of like. yknow. considering him as a character and his potential w/ his setup.

[cozyqueerchaos]

I'm sending in Rouge, Eggman, and uhhhhhhh Infinite for the ask game

Oooo okay here we go!!

----ROUGE----

sexuality: bisexual

gender: trans woman

a ship: i have so many ships for her askakgkala but rouglise is my fav!!!

brotp: omega shadow SONIC. god rouge and sonic being bffs my freaking BELOVED

notp: uhh. pretty much the entire main cast except knuckles lol,,,

random headcanon: she taught herself how to make her own bombs (as seen in Battle and Generations) and can disassemble/reassemble all her firearms in record time

general opinion: amazing. immaculate. she is a menace and honestly good for her. good for her!!

----EGGMAN----

sexuality: bi acearo? not sure tbh

gender: trans man

a ship: dr. Wily from the megaman crossover comics. ifykyk

brotp: shadow..? I like them being horribly awkward cousins / uncles to each other. last remaining relatives, yknow?

notp: i don't even know how to answer this. I think it'd be quicker to list the people i WOULD pair him with

random headcanon: he paints in his free time. mostly landscapes. he's pretty good at it too!

general opinion: i think he's a great villain and an incredibly interesting character! I hope we continue to get content where his sidekicks aren't inept because I think that's where he really shines (like sa2, sonic x, or frontiers)!! bc it shows that he's a talented manipulator and i love that about him

----INFINITE----

sexuality: hes,, yknow. A homosexual

gender: guy but in a girl way

a ship: OH u know im infinadow trash. but I love sonfinite and infidget as well!!

brotp: gadget or amy again. They both have the emotional intelligence to cut through his bullshit aslakgjskla

notp: hmm.. idk. Knuckles? they would HATE each other, they're exact opposites in a lot of ways and I don't think they'd ever manage to grow past that. I'm also not a huge fan of shipping him with silver but that's mostly just because there's other characters with more interesting dynamics (or i think so, anyway!)

random headcanon: im gonna do two!! He braids his hair at night to keep it from tangling, and he's far more likely to growl/bark/display animal traits than the rest of the cast!

general opinion: pathetic wet dog of a man. He sucks and I love him

[crossover-enthusiast]

Also that person opens the door to throw like , idk a silver goblet at his forehead and tells him to “go away.”

And he can’t do anything about it

Eventually he does leave and eats someone else but still

The only time Bob is a pathetic wet dog

[phantombs]

Mother Knows Best. He never learned his manners. He likes to play with his food.

The night feels distant. Haunting, even. And down through the meadows with its gnarling ivies, the world gone grey wears the summer mist.

It is – or so he imagines in mother’s voice – as ominous as death is, isn't? He nearly laughs, amused. Don’t be so ridiculous. Unlike her, wisdom crimped with the crow's feet at her eyes, he hadn't nothing but superstitions to turn. He trudges on foolishly, a proclaimed saint of logic. Yes, he’s sensible and arrogant. He makes through the fields.

Of course, he rebukes: it is only the night. That is all. The humble man, blind and brave, continues scuttling for home. A serpent hisses sharp as he ambles through the patties. He doesn't think it an omen, and less, still, a threat.

But then, with a mangled cry, its timbre wet its edges, a creature shudders the night.

What was that? he wonders.

Oh, what, indeed.

The farmer turns in the waterlogged fields. He waits. Rice baskets swinging, his weathered eyes squint to gauge the vast, swallowing nothing. The forest taunts him with rain, plundering. Who goes there? he thinks. A curious chill fingers whispery up his back, and he nearly imagines he can trace the 'e' in its treacherous curl. But he, sensible, denies those whorls as it writes out ‘danger’, and he, a wise man, thinks it dripping rain.

There is nothing there, he asserts. Perhaps a stray dog whining, but nothing more. That’s all.

And then the whimper froths again, and his body jolts.

No – that? That is a child!, he gasps. It bubbles up tight and twisted, lanced thorough with pain and fear both, and cleaves pathetic through the trees. He worries, eyes wide. A young boy… Laboring for hours on these rice fields, they must have forgotten to flee at that sign of storm. Now, clouds since parted, they’re met squarely with the midnight, its shadows thrown endless and its echoes so deep. They must be terrified, he reckons. The crickets, amused, all burst in laughter.

But, no, don’t listen to them. “Your parents are lucky to you have such a hard-working child like you,” he starts, repositioning the rod at his shoulders. He steps further near the forest’s clearing, wizened eyes squinting through the dark, and cajoles. “But you can’t work hard if you’re sick, now, can you?”

“N-no.” A sniffle, some dark lump shivering by a shattered stump. There, he thinks. “I guess I can’t.”

“That’s right. Now, stop crying, boy. Wipe off your face. I’ll take you home.”

“Really? You will?”

“Of course.”

“But my home's too far from here, and it’s too dark now. Do you think maybe you can take me to your home, bác?”

The words distort. The farmer blinks. He wonders if the rain had clogged his ears somehow, made wind and word sound April-howlish, but alas: there is no drip or drop in his skull. His brows furrow, hand pushing a thin branch back.

“Sure. You can go home when it’s light out again,” he says.

“Thank you, bác. I'd love to see your family.”

The words twist again. The farmer watches dumbfounded, mother’s words ringing in his ears when that small lump, that pitiful mass, begins to unfurl like the endless night. He, they – or it, rather, uncurls forever. Uncurls longly. Bác can only stare as its limbs unravel midst the branches. It is tall, towering two grown men, and at last reveals its eyes as silver as lake.

It's all black otherwise. It's a void-shadow between the trees, like the night’s cut out a shape in the dark and neglected to fill it. It is ominous. Foul. The farmer’s mouth parts, and all he sees are those eyes like moons.

“I'd really love to,” it rumbles like cave. “Why share dinner alone when three’s company? You alone could barely fill my belly. But with your wife and child, maybe you would.”

The farmer falls. He knocks back onto his rear, stunned into stumbling, and – god, his heart. His heart’s lunged into his skull, battering it incessant like ram. Or thunder. He trembles terribly. His eyes widen as that demon nears, a thin, wiry creation, and begins to adjust to its shadow. At first glance, it’d seem a dog, something hovelled by starvation, but a mutt, he knows, can never grow that mighty. And a mutt, he knows, hasn’t teeth so foul.

It oddly smiles, and there are too many teeth crammed in those jaws. He shakes. He peers up, and its taloned paws squelch the earth beside him wet. It leans down, sinew dried coppery at its muzzle, and its fearsome eyes gleam cold as snow.

“Generous man,” it begins like child. And then, like beast– “do I terrify?”

Yes.

High and panicked, a shriek erupts the summer night.

Blood spills unto the soil.

Mother’s always right.

[the-stray-liger]

1/2 Yoohoo! Behold, the tea!

So Operation Commit Unspeakable Pettiness was a complete success and Makeda was able to get everyone on board with her plan to abduct her husband and make him pay. While everyone had reservations about making a play like this, the incentive of being offered Noah Midas on a silver platter was too good to pass up.

Alicia infiltrated one of the meetings of the Side 5 Survivors coalition and much to her displeasure, realized that Mr. Shion was just trying to save his own skin. He realized Zeon was gonna lose the war and so he began to butter up the Federation by playing the "sad wet dog" card.

Meanwhile, Reed found out that he was already approached by the intelligence unit of the Federation (AKA Makeda's former squad) and turns out that... Mr. Shion had been doing shenanigans while under the protection of these people. So yeah, things are very very messy.

The actual kidnapping was fairly easy to do. Using one of our many Zeon-aligned suits (we actually have a Dom now!), we were able to pick our guy while he was sneaking out in the middle of the night.

2/2 Mr. Shion was quite the shock to see. He was really pathetic-looking, needing a cane to walk and having more braces than actual clothing. Really sad stuff. Worst thing is that we didn't even need to put the pressure on. He started babbling right away. He confirmed he was a double agent and promised not to screw up. He also revealed that he and Noah Midas actually go waaaaaay back. They were besties! And he promised to give us his communication channels if we please please let him go. At that point, Makeda just got so disgusted that she gave him the scare of his life by showing into the room, kicking the legs off his chair and proceeding to straddle him, all the while promising him unending suffering for all he's done. Verrick had to intervene before she gave the man a heart attack, at which point we took him to our base. Once there, Makeda had him all for herself. She found out that the dude had the audacity to have a bastard child, who he was 100% gonna raise once his plan panned out... until of course, Makeda gunned the child's parents down. Mr. Shion then went on to say that he couldn't give a shit about Zeon or the Feds, or all the people he killed. As long as those he loves are okay, he couldn't care less about having blood on his hands. Makeda, however, had the last laugh as she recorded the whole thing and had Social Services on the line. All that planning went for nothing. But Mr. Shion was already resigned to his fated and just told her he'll be waiting for her in hell. After all, she roped the entire team just to fulfill her vendetta... so she's no different than him. And despite a touching moment with Reed, where they open their hearts about their failed marriages, Makeda decided to fully embrace the darkness. Girliepop now became Miss Girl. God save us all.

I'm sorry I saw you guys had a Dom and I blacked out that's so ccool

I'm obsessed with your adventures kdfsjdf sorry I dont always provide commentary but I enjoy it so much

[cryptidofthekeys]

CW aka Gift Thief Sona

Oh btw, here’s the uh sona for the whole gift thieves stuff

lmao I legit decided well hes gonna change REGARDLESS of what I do, just like CC, he’s changed s o goddamn much from his og document

sooo... yeah, also with each media Pelo releases I gain a new initial themed character- The Initial Collective grows

also I realized while editing this CW also stands for fucking content warning HFJDKSHDSK- ya know what im keeping it, fuck it we ball

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| Name: Chase (me? Using MY name again bc I’m too lazy for anything else? LMAO yeah) Wolfe

| Nicknames: CW, Cryptid/Crypts

| Pronouns/Sexuality: He/Him (Trans FTM) and CW is p much Polyamorous

| Age: 30

| Species/Race: Human (White/American)

| Height: 5’5”

| Occupation: Has a small business The Cryptid’s Comforts (he sells comfort character letters and packages)

| Hair Color: Dark Brown (Spiky quiff)

| Eye Color: Gunmetal Blue

| Body Type: He’s fat

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| Appearance: CW (wow, I got CC and now CW …T h e C o l l e c t i o n  g r o w s…) wears light pastel purple hoodie with puppy/dog and flower designs on it) has some mint colored pants that go with it

(they look somewhat like pajama pants) and then finally he wears checkered sneakers that match his outfit (his right shoe is light pastel purple and the left is mint green)

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

He has some light pastel gauge earrings, has a silver puppy paw necklace that has purple gemstones all over it, he has a circle beard before I forget that detail, he’s painted his nails to match his aesthetic.

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Only scars he has is his top surgery scars, has lil fangs (those are real btw), has a BUNCH of light pastel purple and mint bandaids all over him (legit it’s for aesthetics plus I dig OCs with bandaids on em like that lmao)

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| Personality: Lmao watch this bullshit change IMMENSELY over time, ya know what, I’m gonna TRY to stick with basics- CW is a pathetic wet cat of a guy,, he has NO rizz, gets NO bitches but god d a m n will he try (gonna rizz up that Blueberry dude and Bandron) sucks at flirting, hell this dumbass motherfucker wouldn’t even KNOW if someone was flirting with HIM.

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

Aside from that however…

CW is actually super sweet, kind, caring, wouldn’t hurt a fly in all honesty… Can be very oblivious to some pretty obvious danger (CW THEY ARE GOING TO SHOOT YOU N STEAL YOUR SHIT S T O P BEING GAY FOR THEM- ‘’hehe, funny blueberry man and silly robot go brrr’’)

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

CW is super chill usually, seems carefree (trust me, he’s not just carefree lmao) ALSO a lot of people seem concerned for him because he’s got some VERY dark circles around his eyes and his eyes are usually half-lidded anyways, he looks EXHAUSTED but he promises he’s actually genuinely fine! (he is tho legit, he just has that look)

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

He can also be so so silly …What does that mean? … 🤡

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| Side Facts: When CW isn’t working on letters/packages, in his free time he’s usually playing video games (now you might think bc of his aesthetic it’ll be something like Stardew, MC, AC, etc …Yes actually but he fucking LOVES horror games the most)

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

In fact he has tons and TONS of horror games, merch, etc- He fucking LOVES horror a lot which throws people for a loop whenever they see his house both inside and out (his house LITERALLY looks fucking scary even on the outside) there’s a cute pastel colored house not that far from his actual house.

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

Whenever he invited someone over for the first time it legit went like “Oh, is that your house? It’s so cute!” CW just blinks and then shakes his head with a soft laugh “What? Oh no, that’s not mine, that one’s mine” and then he points to fuckin haunted ass lookin’ house on the hill (cue dark storm clouds and lightning)

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

CW also listens to music a lot, in fact he’s rarely seen without his headphones (music can help him function in general, also,, it helps him de-stress) sometimes he’ll be writing or drawing and then other times he’s playing his electric guitar (never plays in front of others, he’s very self conscious tbh)

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

I don’t actually have a very coherent storyline for him just yet lmao but I know that’ll change, the same way it did with CC- It’ll change. The only difference is genuinely that I’m sticking MOSTLY to canon, like he goes to that one place to choose a gift, it gets stolen, etc.

(also a side edit: ...i do have- s o m e ‘’lore’’ now in those regards but not sure how many people actually wanna hear that shit so lmao)

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

Final tidbits are that CW has a southern accent and speaks in a soft spoken tone of voice most of the time, only time he gets loud is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about or his hyperfixation/special interests.

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(Bats, Hyenas, and Dogs are his main animal themed special interests, he knows a LOT and can talk your ears off about those funky lil creechurs, but there’s a LOT more I’d be here all day tho otherwise so yeye)

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

I guarantee all this will change lmao,, he just doesn’t feel… Silly enough but who knows for now

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Life Is Strange

Chapter 5 - The Half Given Truth

(Steven Grant x powered (f)reader)

Summary: With your life and Steven's for that matter tested for the first time as a pair, you have to save him with a little extra help that turns your pleasant night even more sour. Can you figure out why all the monsters in London are after Steven before something worse comes?

Warning: blood, fighting a monster, angsty-sh, Steven being very confused

Word count: 8254

Masterlist - Life Is Strange masterlist here

"A werewhot?" Snaps Steven as he tightly squeezes your wrist, staring at you like you've just told him to fuck off and eat a rotten cupcake.

"A werewolf." You clarify as the silver pale eyes of the wolfman blink from its place hidden under the shadow of the small tree to its immediate right. It bares its fangs through a snout shaped like that of a wolf's with pearly white teeth lined like daggers in its maw. The beast snorts, white puffs of air omit from its nostrils as it takes a step forward, one humanoid hand of black fur and dark leathery skin protrude in the lamp light above.

Steven gasps, pulling your wrist so your whole body is forced behind the brave idiot that he is, "Steven what are you doing?" You question as he stands on guard, he's shaking like a damn leaf but stands between you and the werewolf anyhow.

"I'm protectin' the woman I love." He proclaims in the bravest voice you've ever heard come out of him. Your mouth falls agape as you stare at him from behind, did he just tell you he loved you? No, no, did he just openly admit that he loves you? You blink back surprise, he did, he absolutely did.

"Steven that piece of dog shit isn't worth it."

He glances at you from over his shoulder, "Like damn it isn't. I love you Y/N and I'm not lettin' anythin' happen to you no matter how terrified I am right now!" He shouts, "I don't even believe in werewolves!"

Dark, wolfish laughter can be heard coming from the beast a few paces in front of you both, it lets itself into the light where Steven is able to see it all for the first time. This werewolf is thin and toned with leathery dark skin and thick black fur all about its vessel, head like a wolf's with the snout just slightly too small. It has no tail, two long human-like arms with sharp obsidian black claws to each hand, and pale silver eyes that glow like crystals in the moonlight.

There are no remnants of clothing but any parts indicating this was a man remain hidden by thick fur, his legs are shaped with a curve like that of a dog's and behind his ravenous gaze can you just barely see the man underneath. A man who is trapped and cannot get out, a man who will forget all he has done in the morning when the moon falls under the crest of the world and the sun rises.

Whether he is alive at dawn will depend on how the next couple minutes may play out.

His charcoal lips curl into a wicked grin, "A stupid soul, a fool you are." He chuckles grimly with his gravely voice that sounds as though he struggles to breath, "You have what my master wants idiot creature of weak bone and blood. Give me what I seek you naive child."

Steven swallows his fear, "You can't, you-you can't have her." He says, voice shaking in fear.

The werewolf slowly blinks like a tired old dog forced into one too many dog fights, he snorts in amusement, "I speak of you, you bastard man, weak man with thudding heart like frightened mouse." He laughs with teeth and wet tongue, "Give me who I seek, you are not him."

"Whot? Who'r you talkin' about? No, whot am I doin' I'm talkin' to a damn werewolf!" Yells Steven in disbelief.

The werewolf growls, lunging forward before taking a step back and laughing at how Steven jumped back in fright, "Ha! You are even more pathetic then I was told about, but I will get nowhere with you impish man. Show me the one whom I seek and I will not kill.."

Shoving Steven behind you with him attempting to protest does your gaze send the manbeast a deadly glare, "I'll give you one chance to keep your life. If you do not comply then I have no choice but to paint these leaves in your blood." Steven gives you a rather impressed look though you don't see it.

The werewolf's pale crystal eyes study your body, your calm breaths, defensive position, and your diligently stoic gaze that only a true warrior could possess. His leathery lips curl into a sneer, "No human would dare speak to me with such a fearless tongue...yet, you look like a human. But you don't smell like one." Steven's brows furrow as the gravely voice continues, "I do not recognize your aroma....interesting. My master said this wouldn't be so easy after all."

The wet dog smell hits your nostrils and you have to force yourself not to make a face, "It doesn't matter what I am or not. You cannot have him and you cannot stay. So if you want to keep terrorizing this city, leave."

The werewolf smiles a wicked grin, still amused by your valor, "But you know me too well now, and just by being in your mere presence I know all I need to about you." He takes a step forward, "Coy woman who is false in her true nature stands here like a mortal against her brethren, you would not keep one like me from my task now would you?"

"We are not the same." You seethe.

He tisks with a click of his tongue, "No, we are not. But I smell what you are, and you are not human so easily cut to bone from my hands. But you can bleed still, so you can die after all."

"Easy." You warn with darkening eyes.

"Keep your weak threats away from me, I will not fail my master." Pale silver eyes land upon Steven, "He is mine to take, stupid woman, and I will have who he hides from me!" Shouts the werewolf as it rises to stand upon its hind legs, the full height stretching far greater then you or Steven are tall. Like a bear, body thick and strong with claws sharp as blades from a dagger.

You take a step back, forcing Steven to back up as well, he glances from the towering wolfman to you staring up at it, "Whot the bloody hell we gonna do about that!" He shouts as the beast drags a claw across the pavement while it smiles a nasty grin. Relishing in the fear it causes.

"I'm going to kill it, obviously."

"You're gonna..." He trails off, sending you a deeply uncertain look, "Y/N?"

You pat his shoulder, eyes still set to the slowly approaching werewolf, "I told you I boxed right?"

"Well...yeah."

"That was a lie."

"It was?" He questions as you continue to back up with him, "God Y/N whot else you lyin' about?"

"A lot of other things, so if you want to hear about who I really am. I'm gonna need you to not freak out."

Steven sends you an exasperated look, "Not freak out! There's a bloody werewolf right there Y/N! How are I supposed to not freak out!"

"Because of this..." Your Khopesh materializes in your tight grasp right before Steven's very eyes that immediately widen in astonishment. He falls at a loss for words when your Egyptian blade shines like gold in the light of the lamppost, for a moment he almost forgot about the werewolf slowly stalking towards the two of you.

His attention is forced back onto him when the beast lunges with a mighty leap, teeth bare and hands outstretched with dark claws that miss Steven's head by mere inches when you pull him out of the way. All he hears is a pained howling as red droplets of blood splatter onto the cement of the sidewalk a few feet away from the two of you.

You swing your Khopesh in the air, its curved edge coated in slick blood that glistens in the light of the lamppost, "The next one will kill you. Leave!" You furiously shout as the wounded manbeast sneers, holding its injured arm to its chest.

"Give me the Moon Knight!" He violently growls, anger flaring his nostrils as he limps forward, "I will have him and you will rot like a poisoned tree, the world will sleep over your corpse and you will be nothing."

"Pleasant image." You quip, readying your Khopesh as he snorts with a heavy breath in the cool night air. The werewolf presses the pad of its hand to the ground as it chooses to stalk forward.

"You will fall tonight, I will feed on your flesh and never die. I will claim the stupid man once your breath is gone from your lungs and your voice is lost." Rasps the werewolf, limping closer, "Your blood will be sweet and your heart will give me power I have never known. Come to me my warrior, come meet your death." He taunts as his blood patters to the ground.

"You first." The werewolf cackles with wicked laughter as it throws itself at you, you're lucky to just barely miss your face being torn off when you dodge to the side. The wolfman crashes into a parked car, denting it's side and giving it a couple deep claw marks. Steven hides behind a different car off to the side as the werewolf licks it's healed wound.

Shit.

You had forgotten their kind heals from all wounds not given from silver, and something silver is not what you have right now.

Steven watches as the hulking beast presses a freak of a hand against the windows cracked glass, a grim sharp smile pulls its lips upward. Steven lowers himself behind the car even more so he can peak over the hull of the front as the werewolf suddenly rushes forward. He slaps a hand over his mouth as you battle the wolfman with your Egyptian weaponry.

It snaps and bites and claws at you, jumping from one side to the other as it stealthily avoids a slice from the Khopesh. As a short time passes has the werewolf lured you out of the light from the lamppost and into the shadowed darkness between where their light shows. Too busy with holding it back from taking a brave swipe at your face or feet to have noticed this.

You're suddenly caught off guard when it jumps to the left then right before jumping at you full force. The damn thing is much quicker then the average dog and is able to knock you down to the cement. Back pressed to the hard ground do you struggle to keep your Khopesh between yourself and the teeth of the werewolf above. It's hands curl around the golden blade that you hold tightly, ugly grotesque hands.

A slick wet tongue licks over your cheek to taste you and it's hot breath fans over your face, "Women with talent and valor, what are your last words you choose to speak this night?" Rasps the werewolf with heavy breaths that smell of rotten flesh.

You grimace and stare up at the full moon, contemplating whether summoning your armor right now is still a good idea. Steven's seen enough tonight, what's one more thing? While you're alone with your thoughts and a fucking blood hungry werewolf looming over your body in anticipation of your answer.

Steven on the other hand is asked from a disembodied voice a question that startles him, "Well are you just going to watch?" Speaks a deep ancient voice that sounds as though it was spoken from behind him but in his head all at the same time.

Steven jumps, whipping around to face flowing white robes that lead up to the skeletal face of a giant bird-man creature something. Hollow eyes and a staff in its right hand with a crescent moon on the top. Steven yelps and jumps into the side of the car as the bird-man tilts his head at him expectantly. "Well?" It says in question.

Steven dodges to the side when the bird-man takes a step forward, he falls back onto the pavement, seemingly tripping on nothing but his own two feet. He quickly scrambles to get up before booking it down the side street past street lamps and closed businesses. He runs madly in fear until he's made it to the Main Street full of lights and people and traffic on the busy road. He dares a glance back only to meet the hollowed eyes yet again staring down at him.

Steven yelps in fright and takes a right down the sidewalk, he dodges past people walking out on the town. Trying not to run into anyone or anything as he hustles his way through this part of London.

"He really is a coward." Says the deep voice in his head.

"Whot?! Who are you?!" He shouts frantically, looking this way and that to no avail, people give him weird looks and judgmental faces. He keeps running. ——

Drool drips onto your cheek as the wolfman omits a gravely growl from deep within its throat. Your back is still pressed to the hard cement while your muscles strain to hold the handle of the Khopesh. A curved blade that keeps you from the jaws of the werewolf looming above you.

"Get...off." You seethe through clenched teeth, trying to move your legs that are being held in place by the weight above you.

It's hot breath fans against your face, "You have given me no choice. I want the man and you are in my way."

You glance over to the car where Steven was previously hiding behind, you can't see him from the space under the car. Your heart drops at this realization, where the hell did he go? Then another idea pops into your head, your eyes return to the glowing pale silver of the werewolf, "What man?"

It smiles, looking up to find Steven, "The man who..." When his eyes find nothing and no one on the side street does he lean his wolffish head away from you to survey the area for any sign of Steven's whereabouts. His paw-like hands still holding down your blade.

You take this opportunity to close your eyes and concentrate, the wind suddenly picks up, blowing the trees about and the thick fur of the werewolf. It grows with confusion when some fallen leaves flutter past with the increase of the wind. The manbeast shakes it's head, snapping it's attention back down to you.

Your eyes burst open and a fearsome gust of heavy wind knocks the werewolf off of you and tumbling across the pavement like a tossed rag doll. It kicks and snaps at the invisible force as you quickly rise into a standing position. When the wind subsides can the beast catch its footing once again, claws digging into the cement to keep it from rolling across the ground any more.

It's vision is blurred and fuzzy as it blinks hard a few times to regain what bearings it can. When the pale glowing eyes return to focus once more is there a golden tip of a sharp blade held to its face. It bears its fangs and moves to swing an arm when the blade makes contact with its dark hairy forearm. Blood stains the ground in a spray of deep red as the sounds of a choked growl of pain reaches the night air.

Then your foot makes hard contact with its snout and the pain reaches tenfold, the werewolf wines and curses, eyes watering as it cowers back. Another kick lands to the side of its temple, sending the large wolfman to the ground, more blood spraying across the cement like fountain water from the stump of its missing arm.

You press a heavy foot to its shoulder and force it upon its broad back as it writhes and groans like the wounded animal that it is. You hold the tip of your blooded blade to its throat, "Why do you want him? Who sent you!" You shout angrily as it moans in pain.

You press your foot into its shoulder which causes it to cry out in a throaty bark. You glare down at it with an intensive hate, "I won't fucking ask again!"

Pale eyes of glowing silver lock onto yours, it sucks in a deep breath and laughs until you press the sharp tip of the Khopesh into its flesh. It's tongue falls out of its mouth as it groans in pain, "Enough!" It howls in pain, "Enough woman!"

"Who sent you?!"

"The one....the one who loves to hate and hates to love." It rasps with sick laughter, "Stupid woman! He's already dead!" What the fuck does that mean?

Your blade draws blood, "Stop it! Tell me who sent you! Tell me who sent all those fucking jackals!"

It's leathery lips curl into a wicked smile, "Ha! You like my gifts? They were for you from the one I serve."

"Lier!"

The werewolf sneers, "Insufferable wo..."

"Tell me!"

It looks up at you with such hatred yet the fury in your eyes makes it think twice, "Because.." It coughs, "...because you are in his way of what he seeks. And so you must die first."

Puzzled and growing with rage can you not help but stick the tip of the Khopesh deeper into the werewolf's neck, "I will kill you if you don't fucking tell me what's happening! Who sent you?!"

"Ha! She wants to know!" It taunts in spite of the pain you're subjecting it to.

"Fine, a compromise then. I can save you if you tell me." You reason at last, trying to sound convincing, "I can heal this if you want." It's sickly smile falters as you continue, "Tell me who sent you and I'll let you live, I promise on the life of...of myself."

It's pale gaze flickers from its bleeding arm to your strangely honest face, "She smells of truth." It grumbles miserably, its senses dulling from the blood loss, "You promise this to me?"

"Yes." You pull your Khopesh away from its neck which lets the flesh wound heal again.

Still studying you with uncertainty, the werewolf answers, "The champion himself wants to find his promised prize that only Marc Spector knows where it is kept. So he sends his best to find him and bring him back alive, but you are in his way. Stupid woman."

You give him a hard look, "Who is he?"

"He....is the champion of the dark one, the one of chaos and disorder." Oh no, very very bad.

"Set." You whisper in realization, "He's the god Set's champion." The werewolf chuckles wretchedly when suddenly your blade presses into its neck once more, "Tell me exactly why this man is after Ste...Marc Spector." You harshly ask.

"I did! Now heal me." It whines.

"Not until I know all I need to know."

It growls, bearing its fangs until the tip of the Khopesh causes it to gasp and snarl in pain, "Fine, fine!" Snaps the wolfman, "There is a hidden object promised to my master by his lord Set, a gift for his years of servitude and chaos. But the location is lost, obscured, taken by the one you protect. The idiot man coward!"

And just like that it all comes together as clear as rain. So you need Marc to find this stolen object and figure out who the hell Set's champion is, and once you know who he is. Then you can track him down, kill him, and live with Steven free from all this bullshit. Right? Right. Easy enough.

"You swear this is the truth?"

The werewolf nods its wolffish head, "Now heal me!"

You pull your Khopesh from its neck, "No fuck you!" Your golden blade swings in the cool night air as silent as an arrow in flight, it slices through the thick hairy neck of the werewolf in one clean motion. The beast had not a second to react as the blood coated Khopesh severs the muscle, bone, and arteries like they were nothing.

Blood sprays like a red fountain all over the cement and side of a car parked too close to the grisly scene. You take a step back as the sounds of gurgling and flowing liquid sound in the night. You take another step away when the pool of blood seeps out ready to touch your shoes, the werewolf smells even worse then before.

"Why's he not a man again?" Says a small voice that causes you to jump back, Khopesh raised. You see no one but a single crow perched on a small black fence near the door of a closed pub. It tilts its head at you expectantly.

You lower your weapon and sigh, "Just how the curse works. He'll look like a man tomorrow when the sun rises, and then this will look like a real murder scene."

"You plan on leaving him?"

Your gaze returns to the decapitated werewolf, "No, guess I shouldn't." ——

Steven breaths heavily, legs carrying him swiftly across the cross walk as he heads for his apartment building on the opposite side of the street. He's been through a hectic fifteen minutes and has just about shat himself more then once. With the voice yelling at him in his head, that skeletal bird-man guy who sounded awful close to being in his head, and you who he left to fight off a damn werewolf.

Steven's starting to question his reality.

Is he actually dreaming right now and this is all a made up weird fantasy in his sleepy mind? Are you actually going to be sleeping right next to him in the morning? Tell him none of that was real, and this whole time you've just been too shy to talk about yourself after all?

A man's shoulder bumps into his, "Watch it bruv." Snaps the man, giving Steven the evil eye as he walks across the cross walk to the opposite side of where Steven is still headed.

Steven shakes his head and feels nothing different, he's still here, he's awake, and he needs to get inside. The steps to his flat never felt so short as he practically bounds up them like some Greek Olympian. He quickly unlocks his door, locks it again, and steps back into his room, holding his hands close to him like some nervous child.

He whips around and approaches his fish tank, "Gus! Okay you're here." He starts looking all around his room until he stands in the middle of it once more, "Okay Stevie you're okay, it's alright, you're here now nothin' to worry about. Just you and.." He trails off, heart sinking in his chest as he realizes something, "Y/N!"

His eyes widen, heartbeat increasing as he starts to pace the room back and forth in a mounting nervous wreck. He completely forgot about you, well he sort of remembered but it was a passing thought mounted to the many other thoughts he had racking his brain on the way here. But you! He left you to fight off a werewolf by yourself! All alone!

And last he saw you where struggling on the ground with the thing snapping it's teeth in your face. And he left you! Steven jumps when an apartment door slams shut from outside his flat, with a hand over his heart he freezes in place. The footsteps walk away and he relaxes, only slightly. His nerves soon spark again, he feels overwhelmingly paranoid and on edge.

"Uh....hello?" He asks the voice that spoke to him earlier, the one that came from the skeleton bird-man who now since he thinks about it, that humanoid figure looked a lot like the Egyptian moon god, Khonshu. Strange, very strange.

After a minute or so, nothing.

Steven fiddles with his fingers as he contemplates what to do next. He has no idea if you're even alive, but when you started talking to the werewolf and a Khopesh just appeared in your hand from literally nowhere. Steven had never felt more relieved, impressed, and incredibly confused. Who the hell is his girlfriend?

Steven anxiously bites his lip, why'd he leave like that? Why'd he leave you and run, you were right, he does just book it and go when things get too scary to deal with. But he promised he wouldn't. And he couldn't even keep that. But was it really his fault for fleeing when a monster he'd thought to never exist was right there trying to kill him? And then Y/N, you, just became even more of a badass then he previously thought you to be.

Sensing things he couldn't. Standing up to a literal monster like this was just another Tuesday. Pulling out weapons from nowhere and fighting a werewolf right before his very eyes. Then that voice, that bird-man in his flowing white robes who spoke to him to help fight off the werewolf. Steven thought he'd shit himself but no, instead he fled the scene and was promptly chased after by the bird-man again.

The maybe Egyptian god, Khonshu, who felt like he was inside his head. Like he was right there with him, Steven could feel his presence even after he stopped bothering him as he ran home. And although he's alone with his goldfish at the moment, it's almost as though he can feel something it's quite right. Like he's being watched.

What's even happening anymore?

Suddenly there's a light knock at the window, tap tap tap against the glass hidden by a curtain. Steven yelps, whipping around to face the terrifying mystery behind the fabric and the glass. His hands shake as he forces himself to take a step closer, the knocking happens again and he flinches, "Oh my days whot is happenin' anymore?" He whispers to himself, taking another step closer, "Whot the bloody hell am I doin?" He whispers to himself.

Steven, though greatly full of fear, reasons with himself as he gets closer to the window. A werewolf wouldn't knock before entering, and how would a werewolf even know which apartment window led to his flat? It could just be a confused bird....maybe?

He can hear ragged breathing on the other end as he gingerly shuffles closer, another faint tapping, and then, "Steven." Urges your whispered voice, "Please tell me you're in there." You ask, voice weak and desperate.

His eyes widen, you're alive! Steven hustles across his flat and pulls back the curtains to find you sitting next to the window. Your face spotted in blood and the side of your hair matted to your temple. You look exhausted and ready to punch something or maybe someone if they even looked at you wrong. A wave of uncertainty sparks throughout Steven as he goes to unlatch the locked window. Are you mad at him for abandoning you like that?

As soon as the window unlocks does your blood coated palm press against the glass and lift up, the normally heavy window slides upwards with ease. Your hand falls away, leaving a red hand print in the aftermath. Then your crouched body slips into the room, Steven takes a step back to let you get from the desk to the floor from where he was just stood. He takes you in now with significantly better lighting as you rest a hand upon the back of the desk chair.

Your clothing is dirty and blood stained, cut and ripped where your shoulders are and in some other places too. Your hands are stained red with blood like you had too much fun with the Halloween face paint. And with you leaning on the back of the chair, breathing heavy and ragged, Steven knows something isn't right. He fiddles with his hands, standing there like some nervous boy at a primary school dance not sure how to approach his crush.

"Y/N, love." He timidly says as he studies your tired vessel and the ripped clothing, "You alright?" He purses his lips together, what a stupid question, he thinks, annoyed with himself for that one.

You sigh, gaze turning up to reach his, now you look more dreary then irritated, "Yeah, yeah I'm alright." You mutter faintly, closing your eyes and hanging your head to gather some strength back, he glances down to notice droplets of blood finding themselves onto his hardwood floor.

His dark eyes return to you with a deep concern, "You're bleedin' Y/N." He says softly, expression filled with disdain.

"I know."

"Well...uh...where? How bad is it?" He worries, wanting so desperately to help you though he doesn't know how. You don't look like you're too bothered or in heavy amounts of pain, you just look really tired.

You let out a slow breath before turning your head up to see him again, your heart hurts for him, he looks so confused and worried. You can tell he's got so many questions and wants to do something to make you feel better all at the same time. It's a look you've witnessed before a long time ago, for the same reasons but with different circumstances.

You remove your hand from the stability of the chair and stand a little straighter as your wounds begin to hurt less. Now since you've relaxed more and have a chance to properly heal, you don't feel as shitty as you did at the window.

You study Steven's face, yours quickly softens, "I'll be fine, I heal a lot faster then most." You try to reassure him.

His brows knit together in puzzlement, "Whot you mean by tha...." He trails off, pursing his lips together as he thinks of what he really wants to say next. At last he takes a deep breath and speaks, "Y/N.....I honestly think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I mean this, I love you. I really really love you. And I know I'm not goin' mad, cause you're here and there's blood and your clothes are ripped."

Steven takes a second to breath, "But Y/N. I just saw you fight a bloody werewolf on the street. Please love..." He takes a slow step forward, "...please tell me what's happenin' anymore I feel like I'm losing my marbles, please tell me.....who....who are you? Truly?"

Your lip quirks into a soft half-grin as you look into his dark eyes, "Let's sit first, okay?" You nod for him to follow, he does.

He takes a seat at the table, silently watching as you remove your blood stained jacket before thoroughly washing away your hands in the sink until the water flows from red to clear. Then you fill a glass of water and take the seat next to his, positioning it so you can face him and lean your elbow on the tabletop at the same time.

Taking a sip of water, you feel impeccably better as you set it onto the table. You bite your bottom lip and let your gaze focus onto Steven's anxious one. "What do you think?" You quietly ask, "What do you think I am?"

Steven thinks hard a moment, eyes darting away from yours as he racks his brain for an answer that could make sense. His gaze falls onto a book on Egyptian mythology at his right, a book among the many others all different but having to do with the same place. His brows furrow deeper, "Well, you're certainly not a secret agent." He mutters, studying over your face.

"No." You softly chuckle, "Definitely not that."

Steven gifts you a small smile, attention focused back to you as he leans into the side of the table, "Are you...." He pauses a long moment, letting himself lean in a little closer to you, "......are you a wizard?"

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing, instead you reach a hand out to rest upon his, "No....I'm, I'm something else."

He glances from your touching hands to your face, "Whot are you then? Are you even human?" He wonders, starting to frown.

"Yes and no."

Steven raises a brow, "Yes and no?"

You gift him an apprehensive smile, "It's complicated, Steven."

"How complicated is complicated?"

Your gaze falls to your hands, "You know how this world has a lot of weird stuff in it?"

"Well....yeah." He thinks back to the werewolf, "Guess so huh?"

"Right. Steven, there's things so much greater then we can ever understand that work themselves into our worlds. And sometimes these great things interfere within our lives in ways we never thought possible." You pause a moment as he thinks hard, your eyes return to his, "You've witnessed a glimpse of my world tonight, and it's dangerous and terrifying, but it's also amazing."

"Yeah, amazin'...right..." Mutters Steven, thinking back to the encounter earlier without much fondness for the new memory, "...but how...how could it be," He purses his lips together as he shakes his head, "This is mad as a hatter, Y/N I think I've gone just as mad as you and I mean that in the nicest way possible, love." Oh here we go.

"Steven.."

He frowns, "Y/N I saw'r a bird-man creature thing with a walkin' stick! It talked to me! It looked like.."

"Khonshu."

He falls silent, mouth agape as he stares at you, surprised, "Uh....how...."

"Egyptian god of the moon. He's..." You pause a moment as the god himself stands in the corner of the room. You've felt his presence ever since you arrived only minutes ago.

"Y/N, careful with your next words." He says, staring you down with those big hollow eye sockets, "He doesn't know of Marc." Warns Khonshu, so the big skeleton bird-man has decided to talk to you at last. You knew he was watching this whole time, idiot must have been too apprehensive to speak with you until now.

"....Steven, this is going to sound like the craziest shit you've ever heard okay? So just, hear me out and trust me alright? Please?"

He glances from your hands to you, clear uncertainty flashing through his eyes, "Yeah alright, I've already met a werewolf tonight and supposedly an Egyptian god who spoke to me when I was running away...bloody nights been so off the rocker I forgot to even tell you. Can't get any weirder." He mutters as you give him a pursed lipped grin. Oh Steven you have no idea.

"Steven, I know how much you love Egypt and the pyramids and all the ancient history from the pharaohs to the mythology of the gods. But I need you to have an open mind about this, these 'gods' are not just made up for the hell of it. They're real as you or me, they live in a realm all their own and keep their earthly home in Egypt. The place where they have been loved for thousands of years. Worshipped, praised, and celebrated."

Steven gives a slow nod, "Uh huh."

"They are real deities, Steven. Not fake beings who were simply made up just because the Egyptian's thought the concept of them was cool or anything." You explain, "Osiris, Anubis, Isis, Horus, Amun, Thoth, all of them. They're all real and they exist in this world right now in everyday people who are called their avatars. Both co-exist with one another and their avatar is given supernatural power because of that."

Steven says nothing but nods, unsure if you're messing with him or not. At this point his brain feels like it may explode, the more you're saying the more he's starting to believe he's either asleep or having a psychotic break.

You continue, looking as serious as ever, "Then there are others who are given another life by the Egyptian deities, these people are half as they were in life and half god, sort of like the Greeks concept of a demigod. This is possible because well, because the god gives a piece of their soul to the dying person that they choose. When they do this, it turns their chosen person into a demigod in the simplest way I can explain."

"O-kay, uh...interestin' I guess. But how does this have anythin' to do with you?"

You sigh, "I'm one of these demigods."

Steven's brows furrow, his eyes dart from your face to the book on Egyptian mythology and you can see how full of bewildered confusion he's become. He wants to believe you but he's not so sure, he's not even sure anymore if he's having one of his really weird dreams again. His hand slips away from yours and a pang of hurt fills your heart that you have to shake off.

Steven holds his hands to his chest again just like a nervous teenager, a notable thing he tends to do that usually makes you smile every time. But this time is very different. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally returns his uncertain gaze to you, "Then who's uh...who's the lucky god who chose you?" He gingerly asks, still a bit skeptical about all of this you're telling him.

"Horus."

Steven's brows raise a little, you sound so serious it takes him aback, "Horus." He nods, repeating what you just confessed, "The god of sky and war, that's uh...that's neat."

You know he doesn't believe you, in fact, as you study his face for a better sign into how he's truly feeling. Steven looks as though he's ready to either laugh or cry, maybe even pinch himself, you narrow your eyes at him and realize something. He probably thinks he's dreaming.

Your face softens as you tilt your head at him, "He's the one who chose me as his champion, Steven. I am his warrior who fights in his name until he releases me from our bond, and when he does, I will die."

Steven bites his lip, he doesn't say anything for a long time until after about a whole minute does he start to shake his head, shit. He then scoots his chair back, both hands on the edge of the table, "This is...this is bonkers, Y/N. I hav'ta be dreamin' right now, no way this is real life. No bloody way." Then his confusion changes, his lips quirk and he starts to chuckle to himself as you sit there staring at him like he's just told you the sky is falling.

Steven snickers as he looks up at you, "You're pullin' my leg aren't you?" He muses as you fill with great confusion, "You're havin' a laugh, aren't ya?"

"What?"

"I see whot'ya doin' now, you're makin' a real joke cause you don't wanna tell me who you really are." Reasons Steven much to your puzzlement, "Love, you're givin' me a proper scare over all this business. Can you just...please for once, please just tell me whot's happenin' right now with you? Like the full truth. No lyin' no jokin' around."

"Steven, I'm being serious." You reply, leaning in closer, "I'm not trying to mess with you. I'm not even joking with you."

Steven smiles like you're about to crack and tell him this is all some huge joke, when your perplexed expression doesn't falter does he chuckle, "You really got me takin' the piss on this one, Y/N."

"Steven." You add, tone the most serious he's ever heard, "I'm not joking, this is real, and everything I have just told you is real. No lies, nothing."

Steven stands, scooting his chair aside as he takes a step back, hugging himself, now not so sure if you're truly messing with him or not. He looks less humored then he once was since you haven't cracked a smile in awhile, Steven looks from the book to you, "So you and Horus? Whot's that all about yeah?"

"Do you believe me or not Steven?" He doesn't say anything but shrug, you scoot your chair back but don't stand, "Steven. If I'm to tell you these things I have to know one hundred percent that you're with me. That you believe me. I won't take anything else."

He shrugs again, "I dunno.....I dunno what to think....it's, it's madness Y/N. Bonkers. This, all of this stuff you've been tellin' me it's weird. Like, are you even hearing yourself?"

You can't help but spark with irritation, he swallows nervously as your face grows darker, "You think I'm lying?"

He swallows nervously, eyes darting away from yours, "Well."

You quickly stand, "I'm not trying to lie to you Steven."

Steven locks eyes with you, "You've lied about your family, you've lied about everythin' else!" He bravely counters, "So you're not a secret agent and you're not a damn wizard! If you don't want to really tell me anythin' then why....why are we even....why..." He trails off, loosing steam in regards to where he was about to take that sentence, "....then who are you?"

You let out a tired breath, "I've told you this. I'm a demigod, I'm the champion of Horus and I am still Y/N. I'm still me, I'm still your girlfriend."

"But how do I know that!" He retorts, sounding much harsher then he'd intended but you're starting to frustrate him after all and he can't take it anymore.

Your fists clench till the knuckles turn white, "Because I have lived through life and death and come back again to protect this world!" A breeze blows through the room causing some books to open and a couple loose papers to fall to the floor, "I have been keeping you safe since the second I saw you Steven Grant! And since the second I saw you....I-I have been yours!" You wholeheartedly confess, "Because I'm in love with you, you idiot!" A strong gust of wind blows his hair about as does yours.

He stares at you in shock, "You-you love me?" Papers fly everywhere and the room itself creaks and groans as the mysterious wind picks up, Steven's eyes dart around wildly as the wind blows about the strongest its gotten yet. "Whot's happenin' Y/N!" He frantically shouts, starting to fill with fear in spite of your confession just now.

You take a breath and open your palms, the wind instantly dies, the room falling back into it's quiet docile self. You blink, expression softened as your gaze sets to Steven, "I wasn't lying to you."

He swallows hard, pointing a finger to the mess of papers about on the floor, "You really did that?"

You give a silent nod, nothing in your face indicating any sort of falsities.

"Because of Horus and you're little thingy you've got goin' on?"

You nod again.

He purses his lips together, "oh....so it's...it's all true then?" He slowly says, looking anxiously at the opened book on Egyptian mythology, "The gods are real? Demigods are real? Werewolves are real?"

"All of it. All of it and more."

He fiddles with his fingers, gaze falling to the papers on the floor, "It's all real." He mutters to himself like he can't believe it, "It's all real."

"Steven."

"Yeah." He immediately looks up at you.

"You want to sit?"

"Yeah."

You scoot his chair back to its original place, he takes a seat as you take yours, he looks shook up and deeply troubled all at the same time. This part is always the hardest, when you have to tell them the full truth of it all for the second time, though the second time is when they actually believe you too. There's no jokes to be found to lighten the experience.

You reach out to place your hand over his but hesitate, he notices and takes your hand with his. You stare at him, surprised. He gives you a small smile in return and you find your voice again, "Steven. I know all this is weird and new. I know it sounds insane and crazy and it is, but it's real and it's why I haven't been so honest with you."

"Well yeah, I'd say you did have a pretty fair reason."

You softly grin, "Yeah. And there's...." You hesitate to speak, "....there's a lot of things in this world that are weird besides that. But uh, I guess you deserve a full explanation about me. Who I really am, huh?"

"Well...uh...yeah. That would be very nice actually."

"Yeah." A small frown makes itself onto your lips as your attention falls to your hands, "I don't remember what happened to me before Horus made me his champion, but I know it was bad, really bad. I can't recall where I was, I couldn't even tell you what kind of person I was before then, but what I do remember was waking up in a hospital bed in Cairo alone. Feeling the best I'd ever felt and totally confused as to how the hell I even got there."

"Woah, Cairo." Steven's brows raise in amazement, "When you know you were like, this really cool person?"

You give him the ghost of a smile, "Not long after I was released from the hospital. His avatar came to me, so essentially he did, Horus told me who I was and what I was going to do for him because he saved me. It was....it was a lot to take in at the time. I sort of felt like how you do right now, I couldn't believe all this stuff even existed. I had no idea."

"Yeah." He nervously laughs, "Whot a real fright that would have been."

"It really was." You agree, smile falling from your lips once more as you think about that time in your life, "But that was...that was a long time ago."

Steven's curiosity spikes, "oh, how long?" He wonders.

"Over seven hundred years ago." You answer as his brows raise once again, "I was born in 1302 after all."

"1302?" Repeats Steven, honestly blown away by this thrilling fact.

"Yeah, I-I stopped aging after Horus changed me. Guess I forgot to mention I'm immortal." You mutter, "Just another thing I forgot to mention."

"No it's fine, still tryna process all this yeah. No worries I'll catch up."

"Right, right, anyways. I know I told you about my mom, and my family who live in Norway and Canada, and my job."

Steven gives you an knowing look, "That's not true is it?"

"No, and in all truth I-I don't remember my mother. And that stuff about where my family lives, I made that up too. All of it. I never came to London for..."

"Do not tell him about Marc!" Shouts Khonshu who stands in the kitchen, "Do not tell him about any of that. And if he asks about me, make something up."

You hold your tongue and take a drink of your water to hold the moment, you set it down and give Steven a small smile, "Sorry, dry throat. Anyways, I came to London to finish a job. What you need to understand Steven, Horus gives me a task and I have to complete it."

He nods in understanding, "Oh, okay cool, cool. Like a side quest or somethin' right?"

"Yeah, something like that. And well, that's why we met that werewolf tonight. I was tasked with killing him but then he showed up when you were with me and things got a bit intense. And Steven, I'm really sorry about that. You shouldn't have ever of had to see that."

"No, no, it's alright. You looked pretty damn cool if I'm bein' honest. Like the way you made that sword come out of nowhere was amazin' and like the coolest thing I'd ev'a seen." He gushes with a big smile upon his face that soon falters, "But guess you were right again, I just ran like the wind. Just took off like a scared little birdy. There I go."

"I'd rather have had you alive and safe. It was smart of you to run."

He shrugs, "Well, I was really runin' cause of the skeleton bird-man who was talkin' to me. Gotta say, that really gave me a proper fright."

You side eye Khonshu, "Yeah that would be weird."

Steven nods, "It was, but uh, now since I think about it. You said it's an Egyptian god too, didn't you? That bird-guy yeah."

You glance at Khonshu standing behind Steven, his hollow eyes focused on the fish tank, "Uh..."

"Khonshu right?" States Steven, "Yeah, it looked just like him from the pictures I've seen, it must have been him." His brows furrow, "But now, why'd he be talkin' to me? I'm not his, what'ya call it when the gods are with the people?"

"Their avatar."

Steven snaps his fingers, "Yeah, that! Why'd he be talkin' to me? You don't think he wanted me as his avatar do ya?"

"Steven, I-I don't know. It's hard to say, but he is the god of travelers after all, maybe he was trying to help you when he saw we needed help. I'm not sure, I only ever see Horus in his avatar form so Khonshu probably doesn't have an avatar right now. Luckily he was there to scare you away, or maybe it was his own weird way of guiding you?" In your peripheral can you see Khonshu give you a silent nod of approval.

Steven thinks on it a moment, "I dunno. Maybe, well whateva' he was doin' I hope the bloody man-bird stays far away from me and you. We don't need anythin' else like that in our lives. The nights been wild enough, love, I don't think I could take another thing. No more werewolves for me, no thank you I am good as grass."

"Well I wouldn't worry too much about that."

He raises a brow at you, "You knock him?"

Your lip quirks up into a proud smirk, "Let's just say he won't be hurting anyone ever again."

"Woah." Breaths Steven, "You're really somethin' Y/N."

You shrug, "Eh, I try."

-

Readers! Thank you all for reading and giving any sort of feedback it really helps! I hope you all stick around for much more to come, its going to get interesting

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