Tumgik
#i keep thinking i'm gonna hear him sauntering up to me
the-eden-report · 5 months
Text
"Why are ya avoiding me, Cutie?"
Tumblr media
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⬎
▬ You avoided him at all costs because frankly, he was an asshole, doesn't mean he avoided you though. He constantly flirts with you but you just take it as him trying to anger you. It works, but you start to feel like he's being serious, and you have butterflies in your stomach just thinking about him. However, he finally confronts you one day, and you don't know what to do.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
C/TW! ▬ Suggestive remarks, pet names
NOTES! ▬ I'm not proud of this writing at all, but I'll keep it as it is for you guys!
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
It was a normal day at the digital circus, as normal as one day can be in this wacky place. The adventure-of-the-day just finished up and you purposely made it so you weren't close to Jax at all, but he kept slithering into your personal space like you haven't set clear boundaries. You hate him, simple as that, regardless of how many times Ragetha claims that you must have a crush on him. The audacity. Jax is a bitch, asshole, shithead, he was terrible to everyone, who could like someone like that?
Well, despite making your status clear on the relationship between you to, he didn't get the memo- no, no, he just didn't care. At every single chance he got, that bitchass rabbit would flirt with you. It frustrated you to no ends because he obviously was just doing it to get a rise out of you and it was working. Every time you got upset, he would smirk and call you "cute", it set you off even more. Even though his body (and everyone else's including your's) was just a fake, digital avatar, you still found him somewhat attractive.
I mean who could deny that he was cute? His voice didn't do him any favors either, but it didn't get rid of the fact that he was a bitch. Every time you blushed at his flirting (which was shamefully more than what you would have liked), he would get closer and tease you about it. Pomni made it abundantly clear that you two acted like a married couple, which is so far from the truth.
So why did it feel different this time? Zooble was talking to you about how they never liked going on Caine's "adventures" because they were stupid, which is fair considering he only did it just to keep us from going insane from boredom and abstracting, they always felt like something that would be in a game for little kids. You tried to pay attention to her, truly you did, but your gaze kept moving over to Jax as he was conversing with Pomni about something you couldn't hear. You shouldn't be staring at him so much, why were you?
"You gonna tell him?" Her question caught you off guard. Tell who what? You knew exactly what she was talking about, however you chose to play dumb even though it won't work.
"Uh what do you mean?" You ask, head turning to her, feigning innocence as she sighed and rubbed her nonexistent temple, grumbling.
"Don't be dumb Galka, you like him even though you say you hate him. Everyone knows, I mean you look at him like you love him" Love him? As if! Far from it, you hate him.
"But I uh...I don't! He really gets my nerves Zooble! He wants to piss me off because its fun! That's why he flirts so muuuuch!" You whine as you look over to the one in question, but this time he stared back at you. Eyes widening, you quickly turn back to Zooble, however, its too late as he's already saunter over here like he owns the place with his shit eating grin loud and clear on his stupid face.
"Well hello there Galka, looking adorable as always" Immediately, you felt your face warm he flirts with you yet again, refusing to look back at him.
"Leave me alone @@#@$, what part of "don't come near me" is hard to understand?"
"Oh I understand fully. I just wanna know oooone thing" His voice pissed you off, especially when he spoke in that tone, one that reeked of smugness. Yet, butterflies erupted in your stomach as he spoke, his presence made you flustered, why? Out of annoyance most likely, only reason.
"Why are ya avoiding me, Cutie?" There it is, the elephant in the room that you refused to address and that stupidly cliche nickname that you loved from him out of his dumbass mouth.
"I'm not avoiding you, I'm just...coincidentally not around when you are" Shamefully looking down at the floor so he didn't see your face, you knew it was a weak excuse but it was better than accepting fate and saying nothing. That didn't deter him in any way as his feet popped into your field of vision. Shit, he is right in front of you. His arm came into view as his hand sat under your chin, soon lifting it up to meet his gaze, smirk ever present.
"Yeah, sure, likely story. Wanna explain why you look like you're having very dirty thoughts right now? Are they about me?" His statement made you scoff and step back, waving your hands to separate from him. The AUDACITY, again why was everyone claiming you liked him? How could you want to be with this person when he said shit like that?
"Oh please! In your dreams #%#@$head" Turning around, you started to make your way to your room, it was a bit of a walk but you didn't mind it. Plans sometimes were never made to be followed through as Jax appeared yet again in front of you.
"C'mon let me walk you to ya room at least" How did he know you were heading there? God he never fails to ask to be punched in the grion.
"I don't think anything here is going to put me in any danger #%@$ Bunny, leave me alone" You spoke firmly, not wanting any slips to happen, voice strong as you walked with a purpose, pushing past him to the one place that Jax isn't present. Well...physically at least. Ok maybe you did have a feeeeww pictures of the rabbit in there, but it was to remind you how much you hate him, yeah that's it. Nobody else knew because you never let anyone enter and since nobody else had a key, it worked out.
"Oh are you sure sweet thing? Don't worry your secret is safe with me of-" He holds your shoulder to stop you before leaning in close your head "all those pictures you have of me"
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Ao3 . Part 2
2K notes · View notes
https-yeonjun · 2 months
Text
oh, baby (c.bg)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
wc. 1149
genre. smut
request. trying to get pregnant w beomgyu so y'all have been having sex nonstop everytime you're ovulating
tags. husband!beomgyu x fem!reader, breeding kink, pet names (baby), implied kitchen sex, implied shower sex, unprotected sex (lol duh), impreg kink, pussy drunk beomgyu, (slight) marking, manhandling (if you turn your head to the side and squint), mommy used twice non-sexually
a/n. repost; i was thinking about this nonstop since i saw the request anon i need to kiss your brain. you sent this over almost two month ago i'm sorry it took so long but i hope you enjoy <;333 thank you to @sunnylovespickles and @huenation for helping me read this and organize my thoughts
more of my work
Tumblr media
you and beomgyu had been married for a year and a half when he finally brought up the idea of having kids with you. you were scrolling through your feed in bed one night when you stumbled upon a post from an old classmate at her baby shower. beomgyu absentmindedly responded, i bet our kids would look cuter, prompting the very serious and incredibly long overdue conversation about one day growing your little family. and after that night and some doctor’s appointments, he was determined to get you all pretty and round before the end of the year.
one thing about beomgyu is that he genuinely cannot keep his hands off of you. so on a sunday morning, when he wakes up to an empty space in the bed beside him, he searches for you all over the house before stumbling into you in the kitchen. he sees you making pancakes and can’t help but think about your kids one day running around, helping you cook, and setting the table. he wraps his hands around your waist from behind, his hard cock prodding your ass. nuzzling his head into your neck, he mumbles, good morning, baby. you hum in response, melting into his touch. he takes this as an opportunity to slyly turn off the stove. you whine his name, protesting for him to let you finish cooking. but that doesn’t stop him from pulling you towards the island and hoisting you up on the counter. he looks up at you with a smirk. you’re the only thing i wanna eat this morning, baby.
a few days later you find beomgyu sitting at his desk when you come home from the gym, he glances up at you but his eyes can’t help but stop at your chest glistening with sweat, your boobs spilling out of your tight sports bra. and of course that naturally leads him to fantasize about what your boobs would look like when you’re pregnant, so swollen and so so beautiful. going to take a shower, then we can figure dinner out. you tell him as you retreat to the bathroom. it’s not up to five minutes later when you hear the shower curtain open, your husband slides in behind you. if we’re gonna have a baby, we should start saving on our water bill, don’t you think?
but beomgyu wasn’t the only one who was entirely insatiable. some days, like today for instance, when you spend the entire work day thinking about your husband and how much you need him to fuck you, the last thing you want to see when you come home are his friends sitting around your living room. internally groaning, you wave to them while signaling to beomgyu to follow you into the bedroom.
“your friends.” you state one the two of you are in the privacy of your room.
“what about them?” he asks, his face marked with confusion. you give him a look that conveyed frustration and yearning and the realization dawns on him.
“aww,” he coos. “does someone need me?”
“please can you just tell them to go home?” you whine and without hesitation he leaves the room. you sink into the bed for what feels like an eternity until beomgyu saunters back into the room towards you.
“took you long enough.” you mumble as you pull him closer to you.
“i was gone for five minutes.” he chuckles in response.
“felt like twenty.” you reach up to kiss him passionately, your hands trailing up his torso, taking his t-shirt up with it.
“can we–” he tries to break away from this kiss. “can we slow down?”
“need you so bad.” you mumble against his lips.
“yeah?” he asks coyly.
“yeah,” your hands race to unbutton your work pants. “need you to fuck a baby in me.” beomgyu’s eyes widened. sure, you had both agreed to try for a baby but to hear you say this so explicitly just confirmed for him that his desires to start a family with you weren’t one sided. beomgyu joins you in taking off your clothes, his hands swiftly unbuttoning your shirt, nearly ripping the buttons off.
you’re laying in bed clad in nothing, with beomgyu hovering above you. his gaze falls upon you, tracing your form, as if you were the most alluring thing he’d ever seen.
“you’re so beautiful,” he breathes out before leaning down to kiss you. “i know i joke a lot,” he confesses between kisses. “but i want this so bad. you, us, our family. everything.”
he slips his throbbing cock between your warm folds causing you to let out a soft gasp. “me too. i want you. everything.” you parrot his words. he steadily grinds his hip against yours as he stares into your eyes and for a moment it seems like it’s only the two of you in the world.
loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down into a kiss. your hands explore the contours of his body trying to find the best way to keep him in your grasp, to make sure that this was not an eerily realistic dream and he was actually here with you, in you. “i love you.” you moan out clenching around him.
his eyes close shut and a groan erupts from his throat when he feels your walls tighten around him. “fuck, your so… so tight baby.”
beomgyu accelerates his thrusts, his movements becoming sloppier and messier by the second. your hands find themselves resting on the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, taking this as an opportunity to paint your skin with marks in between the sloppy kisses he was leaving.
as he inches closer to his climax, you feel his movements slow down as he fucks deeper into you. he’s trying to prolong his orgasm, trying to feel you around him for longer. “m’gonna cum, baby. gonna get you all pretty and pregnant for me. gonna make you a mommy tonight.”
his eyes clouded over as his movements became weaker and hips began to stutter. you let out a loud moan, your eyes fluttering closed when you felt him pumping his load deep inside you, filling you up with his seed.
still inside of you, beomgyu rolls over so you are laying on top of him. he caresses your hair, whispering i love yous between kisses on your forehead. you rest like that, tangled in each others’ arms, for a moment before you convince him to take a shower with you. when you actually get pregnant, you make it a routine to look at your baby bump in the mirror every morning. beomgyu sitting in front of you, tenderly caressing your round belly before pressing a loving kiss and murmuring something about you being the prettiest mommy in the world.
taglist: @atinyniki @boba-beom @dearlyjun @wiisoob @isabellah29
fill out this form to join my taglist!
686 notes · View notes
Note
i know soft dark! bucky is finna spend a fortune on rings now that his “not wife” is gonna throw them in the nearest body of water whenever she gets the chance
Tumblr media
Pairing: Soft!Dark Mafia Bucky x Reader
AN: Bucky is more than willing to play your games.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Bucky lounges in his chair, tapping his glass of bourbon on the edge of his desk. A smile pulls the corner of his lips upwards, his unwavering gaze follows you across the room. He's been silently watching you rampage, taking a bat to his office. You're up to over fifty grand in damages. He's impressed.
"Are you almost finished Kisa? The Markovs have been holding up one of my shipments so now I'm holding their boss in our warehouse." He lifts his glass to his mouth, his brow lifting as he thinks about how easy it was to capture the brash patriarch.
Bucky was disappointed by how quickly Ronan begged for his life when he saw the mobster saunter into his home last night.
You put more fight than he ever did. It's why you're one of the few that has earned his respect.
"I need to figure out if I'm sending him back in pieces or if I'll give them a chance to make things right and then send him back in pieces."
You freeze, eyes widening as your grip on the vintage baseball bat loosen and it hits the floor with a loud thud before rolling away. "Bucky you can't say shit like that."
"What? He knew the consequences of fucking with me. Markov made his choice when he decided to interfere with my business. By touching my product, he forced my hand and now I'm cutting off his." His cavalier tone sets you on edge, a heady pulse heat flares to life and it takes all your willpower to not clench your thighs.
You shouldn't want him, definitely shouldn't like the way his voice deepens, a hint of his accent coming through the smooth baritone whenever he threatens someone.
"No you shouldn't say shit like that to me," you clarify, taking a framed picture off the wall and tossing it across the room. "Don't act shocked when the cops arrest you and force me to testify against you."
Bucky cants his head, pleased by your choice of words, he wonders if you even realize what you just revealed to him. "Wives can't be forced to testify against their husbands."
You tear off the diamond ring and throw it at his head. "I'm not your fucking wife and I'm not your Kisa either. " You brace yourself for a reaction but his eyes remain on your face as he catches it. Frustration mounts, you march to him wanting to slap that smug look over his handsome face. "Did you hear me Bucky?"
Setting his glass down, he lunges forward, his tattooed hand locks around your wrist and wrestles you onto his lap. Positioning you until you're trapped with arm around your belly as he holds your hand up. Lips brush your ear, his voice rolls down your spine like cherry whiskey, warm and dark. "You can lie to yourself Kisa but we both know how you really feel. Why deny yourself?"
"I don't want anything from you," you retort, the lie leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.
"Then why is your pussy soaking my pants?" He murmurs unperturbed, chaining kisses down your arm.
You want to say it's not but his thigh is between your legs, the corded muscles pressing against your cunt, just enough for you to feel him but not enough to relieve the traitorous ache in your clit. A part of you desperately needing that sweet burning stretch that leaves you feeling so full and so good even as you want to wrap your hands around his throat.
He sighs when you refuse to answer.
"You can put your ring back on your pretty finger so I can fuck all that anger out of you. We both know your little pussy is begging for me to fuck her." Bucky slides the ring back on your finger. He takes your chin, turning your head so he can see your face. "Or you can continue to fight me so when I bend you over my desk and take what I want, you can keep pretending you don't love everything I give you."
Your choice Kisa.
2K notes · View notes
thatharringrovehoe · 1 year
Text
I'm thinking of an AU where Billy wasn't involved in the shenanigans/horrors of season three at all. He worked at the pool, picked up extra shifts ever since Heather stopped showing up, went to scoops every chance he got just to see Steve Harrington's fat ass in those tiny shorts. He has a night off for once and decides to go and see that new sci-fi movie playing at the mall. Near the end he swears he can hear Harrington laughing like a lunatic with some girl down in the front row, but when the movie ends Billy doesn't see him in the que to leave, just the girl he works with huddled around a bucket of popcorn and giggling to herself while she wanders towards the water fountain. He needs to piss, so Billy makes his way to the bathroom, stopping short outside the entrance when the sound of someone wretching up what must be all of their internal organs filters through the door. He debates just going home, but he actually *really* has to go. So.
Billy pushes open the door, ignoring the painful vomiting sounds three doors down and takes care of business. It's not until he saunters up to wash his hands that he notices a pair of very familiar Nike's sticking out across the floor. And there sits Harrington, hugging the toilet like a lifeline and panting into the crook of his elbow.
"Harrington? Shit, you alright?"
And normally he'd poke fun. Pretty boy is obviously on something, evident by his blown out pupils and glassy stare. But he's also sweating buckets and shaking, tears and snot running down his face. And Jesus ever loving *fuck*, whoever worked over pretty boy's face wasn't pulling any punches.
Steve squints, eyes traveling slowly from Billy's boots up to his face. He smiles, dopey and high and Billy winces at how it pulls the purple black swelling of his cheek.
"Yeah, I feel way better now."
Which. *Okaaaaay*.
"I'll bet. What the fuck happened to your face?"
"I was integrated-..inter...interror-...I was tortured by Russian spies"
Billy snorts, amused despite himself.
"Oh yeah? That why you weren't at the counter today, sailor?"
Steve scrunches up his nose, and damn, Billy's gunna have to ask Harrington what he took when he's a bit more sober. It's some potent stuff if he's not even flinching moving an obviously broken nose like that.
"You know my shift schedule?"
*Shit*. Billy feels the tips of his ears go hot. Clearing his throat awkwardly as he glances down at his boots.
Time to change the subject.
"Why were you being *interrogated* by Russian spies, pretty boy?"
Steve sucks his teeth.
"Cuz the monsters came back and Robin cracked Dustin's code and then we went under the mall in an elevator to a secret Russian Army base and got caught and then they beat me up and shot me and Robin up with truth syrup and-...umm....I think that's it."
Billy blinks.
Once.
Twice.
And. *Huh*.
"That right?"
Steve nods, swaying dangerously forward before catching himself on the stall doorway.
Whatever he's on, Steve obviously *believes* what he's saying. There might even be something to that 'truth serum' element considering how he's answered all of Billy's questions so easily. And Billy never once in his life claimed to be a good person.
"Why were you with my sister at the Byers' house last winter?"
Steve's head shoots up, eyes wide as saucers and for one horrifying moment Billy's sure the guy is going to start crying. Thankfully he doesn't, just slumps even heavier against the toilet with a sigh.
"Because there are monsters in the dark. And I was supposed to protect them. I *had* to protect them. Hopper said to *stay*. And then you showed up and Max said you were gonna kill her and I was supposed to keep them *safe*"
Billy tries to parse through whatever make believe bullshit Steve is spouting before getting caught on the whole *killing his sister* part.
"What, and you believed her?"
Steve gives him a considering look. Barring the rest of *whatever the fuck* Steve is talking about, Billy isn't sure he wants to hear the answer the guy is obviously mulling over.
Finally, he settles on "I don't anymore", and something sharp and hurt in Billy's chest settles.
"Hmm. Alright. If you've been *shot up with truth syrup*" Billy huffs a laugh "tell me a secret. Something you specifically don't want me to know."
Again, Billy's never claimed to be a good person.
Somewhere under all that blood and bruising, Billy thinks he sees a flush creep up Harrington's neck.
*Jackpot*
"I'm the one who keeps stealing your photo from the pool corkboard"
He-..
Wait
What?
"That's-. Uh. Not what I thought you were gonna say."
Steve shrugs, embarrassed and looking anywhere but Billy. And Billy *has to know*. Has to ask.
"Why?"
Harrington looks up at him, not a trace of a lie in his eyes.
"Cuz every time I go to the pool to ask you on a date I chicken out."
Billy can't feel his fucking *face*. He has no idea what to say.
It's at this exact moment one of Max's nerd friends kicks down the bathroom door, holding Scoops girl by the shirt while Sinclair's little sister levels Billy with a challenging glare that has shame curling hot and acrid in his gut.
"STEVE! We've been looking *everywhere* for you! C'mon buddy, we have to get outta here before the Russian guys find us."
These hicks are fucking insane.
After helping Steve up to rinse out his mouth in the sink, Billy walks out of the bathroom with Harrington hanging off his shoulder when a bullet whizzes past his nose to embed itself in the cement wall.
Henderson is screaming "Shit, they found us!" while two men in black combat gear come charging up the escalator, armed to the teeth. They bark orders out in what is obviously Russian before a show car *flies through the air* and crushes them against the wall.
After Billy is introduced to a little girl with God damn *superpowers*, he's given a bare bones explanation while Steve plays with one of Billy's stray curls like it's the most interesting thing in the world. And monsters are real and there's a spider made of people out to get them and apparently Heather is possessed and all Billy can hear is
***Cuz every time I go to the pool to ask you on a date I chicken out***
1K notes · View notes
kairiscorner · 8 months
Note
okokk hear me OUT, you know that movie jennifer check by megan fox?? the succubus demon that loves to seduce men and trick them inti having sex with her before she eats them? can you imagine her snd miguel?? like idk maybe the team thought that she’d be a great addition and also bc she ‘promised’ to be good but miguel’s like ??!?! fuck no that bitch maybe hot but she kills men and bat shit crazy yet one single look at her and he melted like a goddamn puddle
HI, oh yo...... reader sounds kinda hot ngl, i volunteer to be seduced and eaten ✋ I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
Tumblr media
miguel o'hara x succubus!reader
Tumblr media
summary: you were dangerous, awfully dangerous–but you were powerful and a great asset to have in the spider society. the only one opposed to your addition to the team was him, who was way of every move you were gonna make here in HQ. but of course... he's only human, partially human, at least–he's weak when it comes to you, but he'll never admit it. word count: 679 a/n: might make an nsfw version of this on my sideblog HEHE this is pretty sfw for the most part, just some suggestive content below the cut, so be warned
Tumblr media
"you've got a lot of spunk for someone that can easily be killed when you don't get fed. for such a... pathetic creature..." miguel trailed off as he felt your fingers creeping up on his broad chest, his gaze never leaving yours as you purred in a low voice and inched closer and closer to him. miguel gulped back the lump in his throat and coughed a little to compose himself. "...a pathetic creature that steals lives doesn't... have any place in my elite for–" "do i have a place in your bed, then?" you asked him in a suggestive whisper, with miguel gasping silently and taking in a deep breath, holding it in as you leaned closer towards him with a wide grin on your face.
"i'm talking to you." miguel said in a stern voice as you giggled, tracing over the curve of his waist. he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to his face, with his eyes going red as he glared at you with an evident frown. "you won't feed on me. i know what you're doing, and it's not gonna work." he seethed as he tried to keep his composure, but you were more cunning than him. you leaned over to him and planted a kiss on his nose, which he grumbled at... but released your wrist from his grasp. you didn't pull away from him, however, you instead sauntered over to him even closer and breathed down his neck; which... he really did not hate.
miguel shuddered as he felt you press your lips against his neck, feeling his face all the way down to his shoulders get hotter and hotter. he shut his eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows together in a frustrated manner. he was frustrated with how gwen and peter b took you in despite the danger you posed, how he now has to deal with you, how... how well your charms worked on him before the real seduction began. he was frustrated with how much you're making him want you.
"tell me..." you muttered as you placed your hands on his chest and gazed at him with a burning desire in your eyes, a dangerous, fiery desire dancing in your pupils. "...are you going to be good for me?" you asked him, and despite every single voice in his mind telling him to say no, no to your temptation, no to your seduction... "...yes." miguel uttered as you brought your lips closer to his own, your fangs baring as you chuckled. "good boy..." you whispered as miguel leaned closer to meet you halfway–when he suddenly lunged forward, baring his own longer, sharper fangs, and pinned you against the ground. you hissed as his weight kept you on the floor, his face only inches away from yours. you scratched at him, but he didn't let up. "look at me." he uttered as you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. "don't ever think... i'm that easy to fool." he said as his nose brushed against yours, his red eyes bearing into yours. "do i make myself clear?"
you slowly nodded as miguel's grip on you lightened, and he retracted his fangs. he pulled away and got off you not long after and went back over to his platform to monitor the multiverse. "i'd love to play with you again sometime, miggy." you said in a teasing tone as you strut out of his office, with him not sparing you a second glance or another word. "you thought that was super hot, didn't you?" lyla asked him teasingly. "keep tabs on her movements." miguel ordered her as she raised an eyebrow. "why, so you can ask her to–" "i'm not gonna ask her for any favors." "not even...?" "...at least not yet." miguel finished as the warmth in his whole upper body from you charming him up remained, and he just can't shake it off on his own. he'd be keeping an eye on you from now on... a very, very close eye on you from now on.
Tumblr media
tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok
302 notes · View notes
moremaybank · 11 months
Note
From that prompt list, could you do 29 with mr jj maybank? Please and thank youuuuuu queen
"first one to cum loses."
warnings 18+, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, anal play, language
prompt list (requests closed) / jj masterlist
Tumblr media
You and JJ had gotten into a fight earlier. You couldn't remember for the life of you what it was about, but you did know that you wouldn't be the one to give in.
You'd be lying if you said it was going to be easy. Most of the time, all the boy has to do is flash his million-dollar smile at you, taking extra care to accentuate his dimple, and you're instantly a puddle on the floor.
This time, though. You're determined.
You saunter through the living area, minding your own business and making it a point to ignore JJ's presence entirely.
JJ hears you but keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen. His attention remains wrapped up in his video game while his fingers move quickly on the controller with expert-level skill.
Everything's going fine until you enter JJ's peripheral vision, approaching the wall to unplug your phone charger. He decides to give in and get a glimpse of you in because it's killing him not to look at his gorgeous girl, and when he does, he nearly chokes on his breath.
There you are, butt naked, right there in the living room. He's itching to storm over to you, throw you on the couch and fuck you until you cry, but he knows what you're doing. He's not stupid, he thinks, and sure as hell not that fragile.
But then, as if you can hear his thoughts, you bend over in pursuit of your charger, and your bare, gorgeous pussy is up in the air and practically calling his name.
Is he supposed to just let this slide without teaching you a lesson? Let you get away with your trickery while you use your pussy to reel him in and make him apologize?
Hell no.
JJ storms over to you as you move to walk away, and rips the charger from your grasp, tossing it on the floor. He grabs you by the throat, forcing your eyes onto him.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" He asks. "Waving that pussy around in my face and expecting me not to pounce?"
"What I think is that you're weak. I can't even be naked in your presence for three seconds without getting a rise out of you," you sneer.
He gives you a chuckle, a dry, sarcastic one as he uses his grip on your neck to reel you in closer. "You think I'm the weak one? You're about to find out how wrong you are."
Before you can respond, JJ's bending you over the back of the couch. His hand rushes to undo his shorts, and he tugs both those and his boxers down to expose his cock. He spits onto his palm and jerks himself a few times, lubing himself up.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You question, bitterness seeping into your tone.
You feel JJ's thick cock pierce into you, answering your question and forcing the air out of your lungs. One of his hands clutches your hip while the other wraps your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail. He uses the leverage to yank your head back toward him, arching your back for him.
"First one to cum loses."
JJ starts fucking you without remorse, spearing his dick against your cervix with every snap of his hips. It's evident that he's taking his anger out on your pussy.
As angry as you are with him, you can't deny that riling him up never fails to unleash the animalistic beast that lay beneath his smooth operator exterior.
"You wanna piss me off and act like a brat? Fine. Just know that I'm gonna fuck you like one," he grates.
You try to suppress your moans, but the harder he goes just elicits them from your lips one after the after.
"Fuck. S-so deep," you mewl as your fingers dig into the couch material. Your knuckles are starting to get sore due to the force of your grip, but it's much less noticeable in comparison to the vigour with which JJ is fucking you.
"If you can still speak, I'm not deep enough."
JJ's hand releases your hair and grips your other hip. You arch further into him in response, and if possible, his cock slams into you deeper. His balls slap against your clit each time he's buried all the way inside you, and it leads you closer to your orgasm.
JJ smirks when he feels your walls quivering against him, a tell-tale sign that you're about to give in to him and lose miserably.
"Look who's weak now," he goads. "Such a slut. All it takes is some dick to make you fold."
You do your best to fight your orgasm off. You try anything, everything, and it works for a moment. However, you're quick to fail when JJ catches you off guard and pushes his thumb into your ass.
"JJ, fuck!" You shriek, erupting immediately. You cum hard, and your legs threaten to give out if it wasn't for JJ's tight hold on you.
"N-not fair, you cheated," you stutter out as he somehow manages to pound into you even sharper than before.
"That ass is never off-limits, baby. I won fair and square."
Tumblr media
617 notes · View notes
idesofrevolution · 1 year
Text
Be Like Me
You didn't really know him. Back in the day, perhaps you knew Nick Kessler, but as far as the "Nicky" Kessler he is today... He might as well have been a total stranger. You lived in the same town, you grew up together, you were in the same classes, you even were known to have hung out on occasion. But as things do, life has it's own plan. You sort of faded into the background, and he to the forefront. He Nick was quiet, reserved, even awkward at times- a stark contrast to the boisterous, playful, rambunctious little degenerate he became.
He started to come out of his shell, hang with different people, started skateboarding and discovered he was quite good. His new friends were all popular, so he became popular. Thus, you watched from afar the blossoming of Nicky Kessler, your former friend, as you stayed the same. That isn't to say that he was rude, mean spirited, a bully like some of his pals. When you passed him in the halls, he always wanted a high five, or a noogie, or to mime punch like all stupid skater dudes do. But you always felt abandoned and left alone while he skyrocketed.
After high school he seemed to make his own way, posting a lot on Tik Tok and YouTube, eventually graduating to a very successful and you imagined fairly lucrative OnlyFans. It would be fair to say you admired him, living life on his terms, dressing the way he wanted, acting the way he did... being happy the way he was. Thus on that tepid day in town, as you walked down the street, the familiar chilled out (likely stoned) young twenty-something skater immediately gave you pause.
Tumblr media
In the back of your mind, you wanted to avoid him. You didn't want him to see you like this, the way you ended up. Some square, vanilla normie that no one would pay notice to or even think of. Admiring from afar was safe, it was anonymous. Though in your heart of hearts, you desperately wanted to be Nicky. It was never meant to be, you thought, as you quickly turned to jettison back into the safety of the sidewalk crowd. Yet, as it does, life has it's own plan.
"Ayyyy no way!" The toked out tenor timbre of his voice soared over the chatter of the city, smacking the back of your head like a lead pipe. "Is it my boy over there? Can't be!" You sighed, knowing full well your cover was blown. Turning around, your eyes met. He grinned his dopey grin and jumped to his feet, running over to wrap you in his tight hug. Nicky was a pretty lean, almost lanky guy, but years of skating and partying had him surprisingly fit and able to nearly knock the wind out of you when his slender body slammed into you.
"Heh... Hey Nick. How's it going?" Your words fell out of your mouth with the heavy weight of anxiety. He released you from his bear hug, rustling your hair through his sweaty hands.
"Ahhh, you know me man! It's Nicky to you, my dude." You looked down at your feet, chuckling to yourself. Did you know him? "I just finished up at the skate park, got a sick Airwalk on film and was gonna head home to edit it. Gotta keep up for my boys, am I right?" He slapped your shoulder with a jovial snicker. You nodded silently and smiled, unsure of what to even say. For a moment there, the silence was deafening, uncomfortably so. You could tell he was waiting for how you were doing, but your mouth had completely clamped shut. Thankfully, the silence was broken. "Ay, you got my number, right? We gonna hang sometime soon, I gotta hear all the crazy shit you been up to!" He pulled his phone out, air dropping his contact info before you even had a chance to respond. "Hit me up in a couple hours or so, yeah? Might film a little somethin' somethin' for OnlyFans, you know what I'm sayin? See you later, bro!" He slapped your back yet again, sauntering back over to the bench to pick his board up and roll away down the sidewalk.
The lingering scent of his cologne and unmistakable waft of sweat hung on you like draperies. He was known in high school for that musk, blowing off any anal retentive teacher which bothered to comment on it after he rolled into class. "I mean, teach you like it too am I right?" He'd always say, getting a chuckle out of the classmates as he plopped down in his seat up front. Everything always seemed to be so unserious. Any criticism, hate, or insult that was thrown his way just rolled off his baggy sweatshirt as if it were nothing. Each time you saw it, you were in awe. How nothing could get to him, how life was a party. Even today.
You made your way back home, taking the short route to avoid any more unexpected run ins. You shut the door and look around your apartment. It’s clean, it’s tidy, it’s indescribably boring. That smile and smell still hanging heavy on your mind, you look down at your phone. His number sat waiting for you. For the first time in forever, you throw your caution to the wind, and send him a text. Just one with your name, nothing more. You hit send and put your phone down, getting ready to go make your dinner. Less than one second passes, and you hear the ding.
Were you surprised? Yeah a bit. A guy like Nick was always up to something, you didn’t expect him to be quite so vigilant with his phone. Though as you inched closer to your phone, another ding. And then another, and another. Quickly you pick it up and unlock it.
Nicky: FUCK YEAHH DUDE! So glad to have you on the phone, man.
Nicky: Bruh, check these sunglasses out dude. A guy I collabed with left em here, hot as fuck.
Tumblr media
Nicky: I’ll let you try em on when you get here dude. The boys are gonna think you’re me haha
It was as if your best friend was chatting you up, as if you’d been hanging out your whole lives. Nick was social alright, but you could really feel the excitement through the text. He was happy to hang out with you, not just happy; he wanted to hang out with you. You wiped the look of confusion off your face and replied asking the basic when and where.
You: Sure, what time? And where am I going?
Nicky: Just come on over, I’ll send you the address!
The ping of an address pin on your map showed him not too far away. A five minute walk at most. You wasted no time, grabbing only your keys before you walked out the door. The walk was indeed merely five minutes; before you knew it, you were standing outside the apartment building. Reading the text once more for brevity, you confirmed that Nick lived in apartment 3G. Meandering through the halls and up elevators, you did your best to quell any anxiety or preconceptions regarding your former best friend. Fighting the impostor syndrome which plagued you far beyond the social conundrum you found yourself in that day, you took a deep breath before stepping in front of the door marked 3G. Mustering your strength, you gently knocked on the door three times.
Almost immediately, the door swung open, and before you grinning from ear to ear, eyes covered by the stupid sunglasses he reappropriated and stifling his chuckles under his breath was Nick. He waved you in, and you were met with the sight of an adequate one bedroom apartment. It'd certainly been given the landlord special on more than one occasion, with a thick application of white latex paint covering switchplates, hinges, and miscellaneous fixings on the walls. The place had a certain musty smell to it. You could only compare it to cigarette smoke, freshly ground marijuana, and dirty laundry. Looking around the place, you could see where the scent emitted from all around the room. A still-smoking bong on the cluttered 1990's side table, an ashtray filled with cigarette butts on the kitchen countertop, a pile of dirty laundry shoved up against the wall next to either nine or ten pairs of beat up AirJordans.
The place was a mess, for certain. But as Nick sluggishly plopped down onto the old corduroy sofa, kicking his massive feet up onto the coffee table, it definitely fit the vibe which Nick radiated. Laid back, messy, but comfortable. You wandered over toward the sofa.
"My dude, did I not say these were fuckin' dope?" He flashed his face from side to side, showing off the stupid sunglasses.
"Yeah, man. They look great. Lucky you found them in here." He lounged back, grabbing the bong in his hand.
"Sorry bout the mess. I been goin' and goin' every day makin content, I haven't had time to pick up, you know what I mean?" He ignited the bowl, puffing out a large cloud in your face. Patting the seat next to him, you blushed ever so slightly as you sat down next to him. He smiles as he tosses his arm around your neck as he prepares to pass the bong to you. "So, my dude. What have you been u..."
Suddenly, the bong slipped from his hand, landing on your left thigh and spilling the brown bongwater all over your pants, shirt, and shoes. There was a moment of complete silence which fell over you two, before Nick began to burst into laughter. You, on the other hand were less than amused.
"Shit man, my bad. I've been hitting this for too long huh?" He laughed and slapped your shoulder. "I'll borrow you some clothes. Better than lookin' like you wet yourself, hah!" He jumped up and trudged over to the pile of laundry, ruffling through it. From over his shoulder, Nick tossed an old tee shirt, a grey sweatshirt, a pair of old blue Jordans. You look down at them with a quiet grimace, the dampness of the fabric betraying just how 'dirty' his laundry was.
"Looks like I'll be wet anyway..." You mutter under your breath, the wet scent of summer sweat and masculine musk wafting from the threads into your nose. Nick laughs jovially, shoving you to your feet and guiding you to the bathroom. His smile was sincere as the door shut behind you; despite his wild success and weirdly stunted mental age locked at 21 forever, he still maintained that genuine charm that you couldn't help but crave more of. In a way, he was the exact same Nick that he was in high school: endlessly lucky and effortlessly fun. Looking down at your stained clothes, you decided it would be rude to deny this gracious gesture and began to shuck your shirt and pants. Alas, even your underwear had to go- the stench of hash and fermenting bongwater had permeated even through your jeans. Looking around, you see Nick's used zebra print thong on the sink, huffing as you try to stifle the stiffy which had slowly been growing harder and harder as you breathed in the radiating musk.
Sighing, you snatch the thong off it's perch and slide it up your thighs. Nick was a slender guy and luckily for you, outside the wet G-string, he wore baggy clothes. You hope they'll fit better as you struggle to shove your hardening member into the small pouch. You look down at your hands, shiny with your best bro's sweat. As if moving altogether on their own, your sticky fingers approach your nose, as you take a big whiff of damp skater funk and tangy leftover spunk which coated the inside. You shudder, every huff releasing endorphin after endorphin. Not only was the smell growing on you... you were starting to feel as if you needed it.
You smile as you pull up his stained, baggy Carhartt workpants, laughing as they hang off your waist like two stovepipes, held up only by your plump but tight peach in the rear. You paw at your sizeable bulge, a sticky spot of pre slowly manifesting through the tightly woven denim. Maybe Nicky had the right idea with this whole street-casual thing, as you slipped on his dank old tee shirt the slightly cool moisture which slid across your skin like melted butter felt as if this was the way it was always meant to be: au naturale. Your long, slender arms found their way into the grey sweatshirt which draped across your skinny frame quite nicely. You couldn't help but smile- you looked fucking fantastic. That tanned, smooth skin you pride yourself on just felt at home in your bro's threads.
You sit down on the tile floor, shoving your feet into the massive Jordans, savoring that slimy, sticky sensation as your sole presses against the broken-in, comfy insole. Feeling Nicky's foot funk penetrate into every crevice and pore on your size 13 feet. You vaguely recall a memory from back in the day, where after skating, the two of you were roughhousing at his place and being the dopey lil punk he is, he would relish in his inevitable victory of shoving his smelly, beat up Chucks onto your face. Even more vague and dim was the memory of you tossing the fight to get just one more huff. You two had always been close, the best of friends really.
Though you didn't intend to, you couldn't help but accessorize, slipping on various pieces of Nicky's jewelry to tie it all together. Sharing is caring, and the look required it anyway. Smiling, you pull out your phone taking a snapshot of your new fit, as if you hadn't borrowed his clothes on the reg.
Tumblr media
You whip around after one final grope of your throbbing and leaking bulge and saunter out of the bathroom. In the back of your hazy mind, you feel as if you haven't felt this good and authentic for a long time. Confusing, as you and Nicky hang constantly- you're basically attached at the sweaty hip. It's not as if you haven't raided his closet before, haven't felt his sour-saccharine sweat enveloping your lithe body. Walking into the living room once more, he sat stretched out on the couch, smiling from ear to ear.
"Ayyyyyyy look at my boy! All comfy and lookin' fine as fuck." You two fist bump as you collapse onto the sofa next to him, feeling his arm around the back of your neck. You snag the bong from the table, taking another rip from the 'chill machine' as you two know it. Mid exhale, you feel a pair of warm lips press against the nape of your neck and hear Nicky's soft whisper in your ear. "I got a present for ya. A lil' treat." A thump rings out in the room, his worn, beat up Jordans had hit the floor, and now resting on the tabletop among the various clutter were his sticky, sopping wet feet. The tsunami of moist heat bellowing from the shining sweat on his wrinkled soles thrust into your nostrils, a fervent reminder of your favorite 'friendly' pastime with Nicky. He chuckled under his breath as he swung his huge feet onto your lap, prodding your chin and the tip of your nose with his big toe.
Tumblr media
You parted your lips, taking in one of those hot-as-hell toes into your mouth, sucking it until you felt him smile again. You were a foot fetishist's dream come true, and once Nicky had found out about that, he was always more than happy to oblige your filthy desires that he shared. His sweaty, stinking toes would go straight into your mouth, and when you finished...you'd get another. And another. Oh yes, and another!
"Mmmm," Nicky moaned as you sucked his toe clean. "Brooooo. You always looked so cute with your face smothered in my feet." You lapped up every drop of slimy footjuice, as he pressed his feet firmly against your head, teasingly massaging and pinching your skin between his toes. With his other hand, he reached down towards the bulge in his crotch, jerking his cock off as he watched you lick his feet. He pulled away, your skin seemingly stuck against the skin of his sole with glue. Nicky smirked with a cocky rise of the corner of his supple lips, watching as your face stretched and warped between his toes. It snapped back to place, ever so slightly sharper in definition. Whenever Nicky started playing with your body, sculpting it to his whim, you were thrilled to see the result.
You two were always finding new ways to explore the kinky needs each of you desperately desired. A new face whenever he willed it. A new body whenever he willed it. Waiting for the right match to finalize his perfect partner. Until then, you'd be forever changing. Forever being molded. Forever being broken apart. Forever being put back together. His cock twitched inside his pants, making a soft squelching sound as he wanked himself.
"I gotta say bro, I'm likin' what I'm makin' tonight. Might have to keep this one around for a while." He ran his fingers through your lengthening hair, feeling your sweaty locks fall gently against your strong shoulders. Your tattoos glistened and shimmered under the beadlets of sweat which had all but covered your entire body within his ripe threads. Nicky laughed, licking his lips as he stood up. He planted a kiss on your thin lips, his tongue exploring your mouth, happily chirping as the flavors of his own footsweat and your sweet saliva mingled on his tongue. He gripped his large, heavy balls, squeezing them together as he shot his load, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your face.
It dripped down your cheeks and your lips, dripping from your chin as it oozed over your sharp jawline. This was your life. An airheaded stoner skater who would do anything to keep his fantasy alive. You'd never let anyone else have such control over your body or mind apart from him. You loved it. You lived for it. And now, with Nicky's cum still dribbling down your chin, you smiled at him, showing him just how much you loved him. The two of you stood up in a huff, smirking in lust as you entered the bedroom and shut the door.
---
The next few weeks were full of huge changes for you. You moved into your boyfriend's grody apartment and quit your dead end job to join him on his OnlyFans and livestreams. The money was more than enough to sustain you and Nicky, even if you had to take on odd jobs to make ends meet. You were always horny as hell, and Nicky would never turn you down. Whether you were bent over a table, lying on your stomach on the bed, or sprawled out on the floor, he was there to give you the dicking down you desperately needed. He was there to dress you up in his musky street clothes, or to make you wear his skimpy little thong before he took you out to the beach. You'd never been happier, and you were sure Nicky was too.
Tumblr media
395 notes · View notes
zablife · 10 months
Note
And another gif request before I'm done (for today) 🤭
You are trying to make a deal with the Shelbys and you have to get through John first... (maybe Solomons!reader? 🤔)
Tumblr media
Afternoon Tea (Partners in Crime AU)
John Shelby x Solomons sister reader
"Can I offer you some tea, sweetheart?" a smug looking blonde asked, gesturing toward a delicate china teapot, woefully out of place in the ash and smoke surrounding you.
You scrunched your nose at him in disgust. "I didn't walk through horseshit for a cup of rosie, you fucking berk! And I was told Tommy Shelby would meet me," you said, clenching your jaw in frustration.
Gazing up at you with piercing blue eyes, the young man leaned back in his chair, taking his time to slurp from his cup loudly. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as he proclaimed with an air of self importance, "He's busy so you can speak to me."
"And you are?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
"I'm a Shelby which means I can do what I like," he offered.
"Not according to my boss," you informed him, turning to leave. "I don't think we'll be doing any business today."
Rising from his seat with a sigh he called out, "Alright, no need to be unfriendly. Sit down and let's start over, love. You don't want to talk business? I can think of other things to amuse us."
You whipped around to find him grinning like the cat that got the cream, probably hoping you'd succumbed to his clumsy charms. Attempting to remain calm, you sauntered back to the rickety table with a sultry smile. Tracing the rim of the empty cup with your fingertip you asked, "What did you have in mind, handsome?"
Neck and ears flushing pink, John scratched behind his neck at your forward behavior, unable to believe his luck. "You're in blinder territory. We can go anywhere you like for a drink and then back to mine. I'll show you a good time," he promised, regaining his courage to reach across the table and stroke your cheek.
"S that right?" you asked, licking your lips.
"No one's ever complained before," he said with cocky assurance.
Nodding thoughtfully you answered, "That's what I thought. Pity I have to say no then," you said shaking your head.
His face fell at your words. "You have a man?" he asked with confusion.
"Got five waiting to take your kneecaps for this," you grinned, baring your teeth menacingly. John's nostrils flared and he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from smashing the china. What were you playing at?
Just then a lanky man with a mustache approached calling out, "Oi, John boy! What the fuck's taking so long with the Solomons girl?"
"Course you're the thick one they call John! Should've known," you said to yourself, but loud enough for John to hear.
"Y/n Solomons, Alfie's sister and the biggest tart in London," John tossed back.
"Reckon you'll never find out cos I don't fuck useless little cunts ," you retorted. His face turned a deep shade of crimson and he tossed a chair across the yard, splintering in two as it fell. You huffed out a laugh at his childishness as you motioned for your men, abandoning all hopes of a civilized meeting.
"Tell Alfie we do business man to man in Birmingham," John spat.
"If I happen to see one, I'll let him know he should make the trip," you said, patting John's cheek before you left with your bodyguards.
"Fuck, this one's gonna be trouble," Arthur muttered.
Part 2--Co-Workers
313 notes · View notes
Note
Neither of them know how it happens, but one minute Vox is following Alastor through the parking lot, and the next they're inside a room that leads to an area with halls and doors and nobody else there. Everything looks red.
Alastor freezes, taking in their surroundings warily. “Vox…”
Vox slides up behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I don't know where we are either. We have to be careful.” He immediately decides to disregard his own advice and starts opening the drawers of the tables scattered around the area. Alastor gapes as Vox pulls out what appears to be a giant knife, a bag of weed, and a bloody leg wrapped in a bag, in that order.
“Whoever kidnapped us is freaky,” Vox says at last, unnerved. He gingerly places the bloody leg back into a drawer with a grimace. “Well that scared the shit out of me. I wonder what's outside. I'm gonna go check.”
Alastor stares at him incredulously. What the hell kind of horror movie bullshit is he doing?
“Vox, don't!” Alastor hisses quietly. “We don't know where we are and what this place is! We have to be careful!”
“Relax babe, I'm not gonna destroy anything,” Vox says. “I'm just looking around.”
Alastor watches Vox saunter through the doorway to god knows where and feels his stomach sink. He's all alone in a foreign place with nobody at his side. He takes a deep breath. He can't panic now. He has to make sure he keeps his composure until Vox comes back.
A few minutes pass.
Alastor paces back and forth. Vox isn't back yet.
He wanders around the room, doing his best not to make any noise. Vox still doesn't return.
He chews at a fingernail and checks the time on his phone. Nothing.
Alastor heaves a sigh and peers through a doorway. It's empty, at least.
Nobody will see him.
Alastor tiptoes down the hall and picks a room to slip in at random.
It looks like a tearoom. There are framed pictures here.
One of them catches his eye. It features two figures: one of them with a television for a head, and other more human looking but with deer features such as ear Tufts and antlers.
Huh? Is it doctored or something?
Alastor picks up the picture to examine it closer. In his confusion he doesn't hear the group of people coming up behind him until one of them roughly grabs him by the shoulder.
“What do you think you're doing?”
———
Vox is rummaging through a drawer when he hears Alastor scream.
Every hair on his body stands on end when he registers it. Alastor is screaming.
He sprints out of the room, uncaring of the ruckus he makes.
“Alastor!” Vox yells out. He stumbles into a lobby and nearly crashes into someone.
He pays no attention to them, instead focusing on the figure hunched over on the ground, grasping at his chest. “Shit, shit, shit! Oh fuck, Alastor are you okay?”
Vox slides to a stop on his knees in front of his friend. “Al? God, Al, it's okay. It's me, it's me. You're not alone. I'm here.”
Alastor is gasping for breath. His gaze is unfocused. He's clawing at his chest. He's having a panic attack. Vox wrings his hands nervously. It's been some time since Alastor has broken down in front of him. He doesn't know if he's still allowed to do the same things that helped comfort him before. But he needs to know so he can help. “Alastor, can I touch you?”
Alastor raises a shaking hand and grabs onto his wrist with a harsh squeeze.
Yes.
Vox quickly gathers him into his arms and hugs him tightly. He feels Alastor tremble and raise his arms to return it.
Vox stays like that, whispering reassurances until the tremors subside. Alastor hangs limply off of him. Vox looks up, now that the worst is over. He freezes once he sees what caused Alastor to scream.
The group that he had ignored when crashing into the room earlier stare down at him in shock. Half of them have hair tufts that look like ears and antlers and sharp teeth. The other half have televisions on top of their necks instead of proper heads.
Vox holds Alastor closer to himself as he eyes them suspiciously. They look like they'll eat the two of them for breakfast easily.
“Well,” one of the figures says with a tilt of their head, “you two are unexpected.”
Referencing this post about when the HS AU versions fell and joined the crossover chaos
Vox immediately going to dig around and exploring was so funny, he seemed so unphased by it all in comparison, I love this I love this I love this so much
44 notes · View notes
krizaland · 5 months
Text
All I want for Christmas is you (Macaque x Reader)
So I heard this song and this short was born!
A furious blizzard howled outside Macaque’s dojo.
The wind made he dojo creak and crack with every blow.
Macaque simply let out a sigh as he glared out the window.
All he could see was snow violently pounding against the window.
Nevertheless his mind wandered to think of you.
Your warm smile, your lovely eyes, even your adorable laugh was enough to fill Macaque with butterflies.
All he wanted was to have you by his side; to listen to your heartbeat as you slept in his arms.
He wanted to taste your lips and drown in your scent.
He wanted you all to himself.
And yet… Life was always cruel to him.
Everyone he’s ever cared about left him to die.
The last thing he needed was you leaving him over his dumb feelings.
Thus, Macaque decided to put his heart in the fridge and keep his feelings secret.
But that didn’t stop him from yearning for you.
Oh no. If anything, the longer he kept his feelings bottled up, the more he craved you.
Your love, your attention, your everything.
To make matters worse, Macaque had noticed you hanging out with someone new today.
The mere thought of you being with anyone other than him made him want to rip out his own heart.
“Y/N…Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Macaque grunted as he dramatically turned away from the window.
“I don't want a lot for Christmas, There is just one thing I need…” Macaque folded his hands behind his back as he sauntered away from the window.
“I don't care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree…” Macaque ominously walked towards his weapons rack.
“I just want you for my own-”-Macaque gently picked up a framed picture of you-“-More than you could ever know…”
“Make my wish come true…All I want for Christmas is…”
Macaque’s grip on the frame tightened.
“You!”
BAM!
Macaque punched the wall, causing the dojo to rattle a bit.
“Oh baby!”
Macaque slowly drug his hand down the wall.
“I won't ask for much this Christmas.
I won't even wish for snow!” Macaque stormed onward, dramatically flipping his cape behind him and throwing your photo to the floor .
“I'm just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe!” A pained chuckle escaped his throat.
“I won't make a list and send it to the North Pole for Saint Nick!” Macaque looked through the various weapons hanging from the rack.
“I won't even stay awake to hear those magic reindeer click!”
CLANG!
Macaque angrily pushed over his weapons rack.
“I just want you here tonight…Holding on to me so tight…” Macaque fell to his knees and slammed his hands down.
“What more can I do-” -A few tears trickled down his cheeks- “-All I want for Christmas is you…”
“None of the lights are shining brightly anywhere…”
Macaque looked down at your photo.
“And the sound of children's crying fills the air…” His hands shook as he carefully picked it up.
“And no one is singing-” Macaque’s voice cracked- “-I don’t hear sleigh bells ringing…”
“Santa, won't you bring me the one I really need?!” Macaque rose to his feet, “Won't you please bring my baby to me?!
“I don't want a lot for Christmas! This is all I'm asking for-”- Macaque held up your photo- “-I just wanna see my baby standing right outside my door!”
“I just want you for my own!” Macaque shook your photo, “More than you could ever know!”
“Make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is…”
Macaque threw back his head and cried out,
“YOU!!”
Macaque’s voice echoed throughout the dojo.
“All I want for Christmas is you…”
75 notes · View notes
saintmurd0ck · 2 years
Text
guilty pleasures | frank castle x f!reader | drabble
masterlist
Tumblr media
summary: frank walks in on you using a sex toy
warnings: dom!frank, voyeurism, dildo use, pet names, female masturbation
a/n: dedicated to @marvelswh0re and i'm not gonna say why
Tumblr media
Frank hears you long before he walks into the apartment. He almost doesn't want to believe it, even going as far as to make up an excuse for those… noises. With a preternatural, military-esque quietness, he unlocks the front door, eyebrows furrowing as he hinges it open inch-by-inch. His first curse, as the cacophony of sound hits him like a freight train, goes to Matt, for ‘giving him bat ears’, but his second… Frank’s second curse rumbles deep in his chest, tumbling from his lips in the form of a low ‘fuck’. It’s laced with want, and it drips from his lips like molten honey. 
Heat blooms in his face and his mouth goes dry as he’s pinned in place by the sight of you, sprawled out on the bed with not a scrap of clothing clinging to your sweat-slick body. His gaze roams lazily over you, at the way your head is slightly tipped back, your mouth, parted in a perfect ‘o’, and your breasts, peaked not by the chill of the room but from arousal alone. That’s not all, though.
Frank’s hands tremble as he untucks his gun from the waistband of his jeans, setting it down on the console table next to him with precise care. He doesn’t want to make a sound. He wants to savour this, for as long as possible. He kicks off his boots hurriedly, swearing silently as he almost fucking trips over himself, and begins to saunter towards where you are, like a predator casing his prey. 
As your legs spread even wider, Frank’s lust-blown pupils follow, tracking towards your centre, towards the way your hands move in tandem. His skin flushes pink as your back arches off the bed, prompting you to fuck yourself harder. He watches intently, at the way the dildo stretches you out, at your quivering lip as you increase your pace, angling the toy so it brushes against that spot inside you. Your other hand moves between your breasts and your clit, desperate for friction, for additional stimulation. 
With furrowed brows and the uneasy rise and fall of his chest, Frank shifts in his stance, clothing uncomfortably tight around the now-obvious bulge in his jeans. Tongue caught in his teeth and a gaze that pins itself to you, he palms himself, the crook of his thumb moving firmly over the swell of his cock. Frank thinks he can’t be any more turned on, but then your noises change.
They go from breathy moans – the kind that are shared in lustful secrecy – to a high-pitched half-squeal, half-whimper, to his name. 
“Frankie,” you whisper, eyes squeezed shut as your hand grips the base of the toy. And you keep going, uttering his name in sinful prayer. “Oh, God, Frank. FrankFrankFrankFrankFrank.” 
As if you’ve commanded him to, he uses the heel of his hand to push against his throbbing erection, toeing the line between pain and pleasure from the friction of still being fully clothed.
The noise stops.
“Frank?”
He says nothing. He just nods. He smirks, even, as you clench around the toy that’s still buried to the hilt inside you.
“I need you,” you plead, looking at him through your eyelashes, watching with fervour as he strips down.
“Keep going.”
“What?”
“I said, keep going,” he hisses, and strokes his weeping cock.
You begin to fuck yourself again, but this time, the strokes are languid. Slow. You’re putting on a show. “O-okay.”
He licks his lips before climbing on the bed to kneel in front of you. “There you go, sweetheart.” You start to squirm, and it only spurs him on. “You take it so good, darlin’. So fuckin’ deep.”
“Mmhm,” you whine, arching your back again, face heating as you feel the intensity of his stare. 
“You bought that with me in mind?” He waits for your lips to flutter with agreement before continuing. “You ever wonder what the people at the store thought, huh? About my pretty lil’ girl buyin’ this all for herself? Bet they knew you were gonna stuff yourself with this. Bet they could see it in your eyes, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to respond, but he takes the opportunity away from you. “Hm, what would your parents think if they found this? When they realise their little girl isn’t so sweet all the time?”
You keen into the toy, hips bucking upwards for more. It’s filthy, and more than pornographic, but you’re beyond the point of caring. Frank leans down towards your ear and his lips curve into a mischievous smile. “I bet it’s not as good as the real thing, is it, sweetheart?”
“N-no,” you strain, every breath catching in your throat.
The mattress dips as he springs upwards to push your thighs apart, and to replace your hand with his on the base of the toy. He brackets one side of your head with a thick forearm, and you feel his weight bearing down on you. You can’t move. Not even if you tried.
“Now, you gonna make room for me?”
He threads his outstretched fingers in your hair and yanks it to the side. The gesture doesn’t have force in it, at least, not compared to how he usually does it, but it floods you all the same. “Yes, Frank.” 
He slips a thumb over your clit before withdrawing the toy, leaving you empty. Unfulfilled.
But his grin is a promise.
“Good girl. That’s my good girl.”
891 notes · View notes
partypoisonzz · 1 year
Text
i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) (gerard way x reader smut)
Tumblr media
Kinktober Day 3: Glove/Hand Kink
Era: Danger Days (2010)
Reader Pronouns: None mentioned but Reader has AFAB anatomy.
Content:
- Glove/Hand Kink
- Domestic bliss 🥺
- Dom!Gerard... for most of it
- Degradation
Word Count: 3,629
Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.
-
"What do you think?" 
You look up from your phone, taking in the sight of Gerard standing in front of you. At long last, his concept for his Party Poison costume has come to fruition. Months of sketches and reworking have culminated in this moment.
"Impressive," you say. And it truly is.
Your eyes scan over him, down and up and back again. There are the nice leather boots that go halfway up to his knees, the dark wash jeans, the customized blue jacket, emblazoned with the Dead Pegasus logo that he designed, the yellow plastic mask…
Your eyes travel back down to his hands and pause at the brown leather biker gloves.
"You really think so?"
You snap back to the present at the sound of Gerard's voice. You look back up at his face, alight with pride, and nod.
"Mmm-hmm. You look great, honey."
He does look great.
He looks so great that you can't stop thinking about it, even after the costume is put away and he's just your husband again. You're still ruminating over the getup hours later, and you don't know why.
Your thoughts are clouded as you go about the rest of your day. You feel guilty for only halfway-listening to Gerard's excited rambling about the upcoming album, as well as being completely checked out when you meet the rest of the guys for dinner. You only return to reality when Frank throws a crumpled-up napkin at you and hits you in the face, eliciting uproarious laughter from the rest of the table and stares from your fellow diners.
The haze hangs on until just before you crawl into bed.
You hear Gerard call to you from the bedroom as you wash your face. "Babe?"
You splash yourself with the cold water once more before turning off the faucet and reaching for a towel. "Yeah?"
He stays silent for a moment before posing his question. "You're okay, right?"
"I'm fine." You pat your face dry before tossing the towel into the hamper and turning off the bathroom light. Having completed your usual before-bed routine, you saunter into the bedroom and crawl into bed next to Gerard. "Why do you ask?"
Gerard closes his book and sits it on the nightstand. "I dunno," he says. "You just seem sort of... distant."
You sigh, stretching out your aching limbs. "I'm tired," you say. That's not a lie, either. "I know I don't have the right to complain, — you're the one doing all the work, after all, — but this whole album thing... The recording and the PR stuff and the music videos and getting ready for the tour..." You turn over on your side to face your husband.
"It's all getting real so fast," you tell him quietly. "In three weeks, you'll be out on the road again, and I'll still be right here."
For a while, Gerard doesn't say anything. He just stares at you in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He looks beautifully solemn, strands of his newly-dyed red hair falling over his eyes.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "C'mere."
He gently cups your cheek as you draw closer to him, pressing his lips to yours in a lazy kiss. You close your eyes, relishing the feeling of his mouth on yours, the way he's still close enough for the two of you to share body heat, the faint, lingering scent of his hair dye, the feeling of his thumb brushing across the side of your face...
Even when he pulls away, he keeps his hand there, softly caressing your skin. "Everything's gonna be alright," he assures you. "Being away from you won't be easy for me, either, but..." He presses a kiss against your forehead before resting his head against yours. "I'll come back like I always do. Plus, you've got me here right now."
You chuckle. "Thank God for that."
"Glad you see it my way." He nudges you lightly with his shoulder. "Want me to rub your back? Ease some of the tension?"
You raise your eyebrows. "Is this just a back rub, or a back rub with extra stuff?"
"Just a back rub." He pauses, appearing to think before tacking on an additional disclaimer. "Unless you want the extra stuff, of course."
You laugh. "Think I'll just go with the backrub for now," you say. "We'll see about tomorrow, though."
He nods. "Tomorrow. Got it." Another nudge. "Now, turn over."
Only when he starts massaging your tense shoulders does everything begin to fall into place.
You've always had a thing for Gerard's hands. How could you not, really? The way that he grips the microphone... His careful precision when he draws... How he alternates between soft and firm touch equally skillfully, as though it's absolutely nothing...
You can't help but look at his hands when he's completing everyday tasks. Oftentimes, your train of thought leads you to anticipate all the places those hands will wander later on. Even after a few years of marriage, you still find yourself turning away, face aflame.
Your mind flickers back to the gloves from earlier. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense.
There's something about the way his hands look in those gloves. The cracked dark leather, concealing everything but his fingers and knuckles... Showcasing how his hands seem strong and delicate all at once...
You don't know why you didn't realize it sooner.
Try as you might not to allow yourself to obsess over this realization, the thought lingers in your mind. It's still there, even when Gerard falls asleep rubbing your back and you can barely keep your own eyes open.
For the millionth time since you first met your husband, a familiar thought pops into your mind.
Everything about him drives me insane, you think. He's gonna be the fucking death of me.
You sigh and turn over on your back, your own hand creeping into the waistband of your pajama pants.
-
A week or so later, you find yourself baking in the desert sunlight through the window of an old diner. Though you know you could logically blame the hellish climate of California in late July for the feverish feeling overtaking you, you know that you're sweating for an entirely different reason.
"Hey, babe. How's my ass look?"
You focus your attention on Gerard, who is currently turning slow circles in an attempt to properly show off the goods.
"As good as ever," you tell him.
"But is it good enough?" he presses. "It gets its own close-up, so it has to be in peak condition..."
"Your ass is always in peak condition," you cut him off. "Then again, I am married to you, so maybe I'm biased."
You grab a magazine off the table and flip it open, attempting to distract yourself. As it stands, you want to jump his bones, right here, right now. Discussing the premium quality of his ass isn't helping.
You wrinkle your nose as you open to a spread in the middle of the volume. "Ew," you laugh. "I didn't intend on seeing Simba and Nala uncut, but okay..."
"Lemme see." Gerard swipes the magazine out of your hands as he slides into the booth next to you. You watch him flip the pages of the magazine, slow and deliberate, and feel the blood rushing to your face again.
He chuckles. "Oh, yeah. This whole thing is a gag for the video. Only the perviest shit that National Geographic has ever had to offer." He places the magazine back down on the table. "Mikey's gonna be the one reading it, of course." He snorts. "Poor kid. I can never make him suffer enough..."
You can never make me suffer enough, you think. You manage to bite your tongue before the thought slips out. That would kind of be a jarring thing to tell your husband unprompted.
You startle back to the present moment when you feel Gerard's fingers drumming against your thigh.
"Hey." He gives you a gentle smile. "What're you thinking about, huh?"
The honest answer runs through your mind. In fact, it damn near passes your lips.
Your hands, you want to say. More specifically, how they would feel wrapped around my hips if you just threw me onto this table and blew my back out.
The door swings open, ensuring that you don't put this idea out in the open. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Mikey says. "But we just got back from our lunch break. Probably should get as much filming as we can in before the sun goes down."
You offer Gerard a shaky smile and a kiss on the cheek. "Alright, Mr. Director. Back to work."
"Right." He returns to his feet. You stand up and brush yourself off, sauntering towards the fridge for a soda.
Just when you think he's about to step into the blazing midsummer afternoon, Gerard speaks up again. "Hang on a minute," he calls to Mikey.
The next thing you know, his hands are on your waist, pulling you towards him.
You try not to tense up, — it's a purely innocent touch, for God's sake, — but it's kind of difficult when he fucking squeezes your waist while he kisses you. 
"Love you," he tells you when he pulls away. "See you in a little bit."
He turns on his heel and follows his brother outside without any idea that such a slight touch has left you weak in the knees.
-
A little over an hour later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You immediately answer it upon seeing Gerard's name flash across the screen. "Hello?"
"My trailer's open, if you wanna swing on by." You can hear the sly grin in his voice. "Just you, me, some drinks, and the air conditioner."
Though you roll your eyes, a smile surfaces on your face in response to his proposition. "I'll be right there. Just gimme one sec."
A few minutes later, you're pushing the trailer door open and climbing inside. "Another break?" you ask as you close the door behind you. "You just took your lunch, like, an hour and a half ago..."
"Yeah, but more pressing matters came up." Gerard abandons his spot on the cushioned chair next to the window to meet you by the door. He reaches behind you to fasten the lock before cupping your face in his hands.
You stiffen as your eyes connect with his. His lips curl up just slightly, but it isn't the glowing smile that he was giving you earlier.
You think he's going to kiss you, but he doesn't.
"I saw how you were looking at me earlier," he says, his voice low.
You attempt to swallow the lump building in your throat. Though the anticipation of what might happen next twists your stomach into eager knots, you know it's not out of your realm to sass back.
"Yeah? So I thought you looked good." You shrug, trying to play it off as though your heart isn't running wild in your chest. "Sue me."
His grip tightens around your jaw. "Don't you know how to ask for what you want, sugar?" he asks. "You can't just spell it out for me all the time. It gets tiring."
He presses his mouth to yours. You kiss back eagerly as his tongue runs over yours, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric of his shirt. You hear him let out a low groan before he pushes you back into the wall.
"Fuckin' tell me," he orders. "Use that pretty little mouth of yours."
A whine climbs up your throat before you oblige him. "Your hands."
"My hands?" He raises his eyebrows, looking at you as though the conversation just took a completely unexpected turn.
You know better than that.
He absolutely knows. Maybe he's known all along.
Still, he asks: "What about my hands, sugar?"
"You know that I've always liked your hands," you say. "I love the way they look, all strong but so... pretty. Love the way they feel when you touch me." You swallow hard once again before continuing. "But the gloves. Jesus Christ, Gerard... I don't know what it is, but those gloves are so fucking hot..."
"You like the gloves, huh?" He huffs out a laugh. "Should've just said so." He holds his hand in front of your face before giving you another command. "Open your mouth, baby."
You obey him without question.
He doesn't have to ask you to suck the two fingers that he plunges into your mouth. You do it automatically, your tongue running slowly over his skin.
He draws in a sharp breath. "I didn't know you had such an oral fixation. Could've made good on that a long time ago..."
You pull off of his fingers with a pop. "I don't usually," you say. "It's just... well... your hands..."
He chuckles. "Like sucking on my fingers, sugar?" he asks. "That's cute. Such a good little slut for me."
The degrading nickname elicits another pathetic whine from you. "Please," you beg. You aren't entirely sure what you're even asking for. You just know that you want, — need, — more from him.
"Please what?" he asks. "Use your words, baby."
"I don't care what you do to me," you tell him. "Just as long as you use your hands. And don't take the gloves off."
He laughs openly now. He sounds a little maniacal, a little mean, but that only makes you wetter. "You're so desperate," he comments. "It's fucking adorable."
He snaps his fingers before pointing to the chair in the corner. "Sit."
Wordlessly, you walk over to the chair and take a seat.
He smiles before sinking to his knees. You shift as he undoes the button and zipper of your jeans and pulls them down your legs. "Needy little whore," he remarks. "Losing your fucking mind over the slightest bit of touch..."
You let out a broken moan as soon as the leather of the gloves meets the skin of your bare thigh, proving his point.
He barks out another harsh laugh. "Holy shit," he says. "You'd think you hadn't been touched in years."
At this point, the part of your brain that generates rebuttals has turned completely off. You roll your hips up into nothing, more pleas falling from your lips. "Gerard... Please..."
Gerard doesn't react to your begging, his face set in concentration. "If you go crazy for my hand on your leg, I wonder what you'll do if I move it..." His fingers climb up your thigh slowly. "Up here?"
You moan as his fingers lightly brush over the front of your panties.
He's so close to where you need him, but...
Not quite.
He pulls his hand back with a self-satisfied grin. "Even better than I thought," he says. "Now, how about..." His fingers hook under the edge of the fabric, pulling the underwear down. "This?"
Another whimper of affirmation as you throw your head back.
"Good." His hand starts climbing up your inner thigh again. You know there's probably going to be a wet spot on the chair by the time you stand up. "What about now?"
Your knees buckle as his fingers finally brush over your exposed pussy. "God, yes," you gasp.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "That's what I thought."
Just like that, all the teasing comes to an abrupt halt. He shoves the same two fingers that he put in your mouth earlier inside of you. You cry out, grinding your hips into his hand.
"Look at you. Fucking yourself on my hand." His voice drips with pride, — as well as arousal, judging by the groan that follows soon after. "Fuck, baby. That's so hot. Wish you could fucking see yourself, the way I'm seeing you right now."
Though part of you worries it will all be too much, you look down at him, taking in the genuinely awestruck expression on his face.
If the past few years that you've spent with him have taught you one thing, it's that Gerard is really no good at being dominant.
Well, he's technically good at it. He knows how to talk dirty, how to fuck you until your entire body feels like it's coming unwound, how to make you come over and over again.
The thing is that, no matter how many times he calls you names or pulls your hair or marks you up with hickies and bruises, he just can't keep the mask from falling. Which is remarkable, considering he can be quite the actor.
No matter how intense things get, you always catch him just looking at you at some point, eyes brimming with love.
God, if that doesn't make you weaker than anything else.
You can barely look at him right now. He's so fucking pretty, — sunlight illuminating his neon hair like a halo, his eyes shining green-gold beneath the rays as he looks up at you. You could count the freckles across the bridge of his nose, write poems about the way his eyelashes flutter across his cheeks when he blinks.
But then he picks up the pace, and you remember that he's fingering you in his trailer while he's supposed to be working.
It isn't the most poetic representation of romance, for sure.
Not that you're complaining.
You taste blood from your lower lip as he curls his fingers upwards, pressing hard against your front wall. His fingers are long enough to hit all the right places. Even better, he knows your body like the back of his hand. (Ha-fucking-ha.) He knows exactly what he's doing.
He pumps his fingers in and out, going knuckle deep before repeating the process. The leather of the gloves brushes against your inner thigh, only intensifying the sensation.
It's borderline overwhelming. And still, you tell him...
"More," you manage. "Please. I need more."
"Don't have to tell me twice, sugar." He brings his other hand up, pressing his thumb against your clit.
You begin to feel dizzy as he rubs tight circles around the bundle of nerves, still thrusting his fingers into you all the while. Heat pools between your legs, your building orgasm creating the feeling of flames licking between your hips.
"I can't..." you pant. "Can't hold on anymore, oh my God..."
At that, Gerard pulls his fingers out all the way. You whimper at the loss just before he pushes them in again, meeting absolutely no resistance.
You feel yourself tightening up, clamping down on him as you let out a cry that just barely drowns out his desperate gasp.
Your back arches as you come and come and come. It's intense, — the most intense orgasm you've had in a long while. You swear that it's never going to end. When it finally does, you let out a bewildered laugh.
"Holy shit," you huff. "That was fucking incredible."
Gerard simply hums in agreement before licking his fingers clean.
You idly swat at him. "Gross," you chastise him. "I mean... hot, but gross."
He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a smile. "You know you love it."
You would have to be a liar to deny that.
"Yeah," you admit. "I do."
You nudge him lightly with your leg. "Now, get up. You've got a music video to finish."
He laughs as he stands up. "Bold of you to be bossing me around after I just made you come like that." 
"Mmm... It's my turn now." You pull your pants back up before rising on still-trembling legs.
You can't help but notice the tenting of his skinny jeans when you lean in to kiss him. You close your eyes, relishing the taste of yourself on his tongue. You only pull away when he moans into your mouth. 
"I'm getting you back when we go home," you declare. 
Despite his panting breaths, the crooked smile on Gerard's face tells you that he takes this as a challenge. "Oh, yeah?"
"Absolutely." You walk towards the door, lingering in the entranceway for just a moment. "I'm giving you one condition right now," you finally say. 
Gerard trails behind you. Despite his earlier dominance, he's right back to following you like a lost puppy. "And what would that be?" 
You can't help but smile slyly. God, he's into this. "Let me try on the gloves." When he's close enough, you pull him close to you, kissing him hard again before pulling back to whisper in his ear. "Maybe I'll jerk you off while I'm wearing them."
His breath hitches as your lips travel downwards, settling against the side of his neck. "Fuck," he mutters as you suck at a particularly sensitive spot.
"Mmm-hmm." You pull back with a quiet giggle, elbowing him in the side playfully. "Get back to work now. For real."
You mentally pat yourself on the back as his voice takes on a whiny tone. "But, babe..."
"Later." Stern as it is, your voice holds a promise that you'll make good on your word.
Clearly, it's enough to make Gerard listen to you. As he reaches for the doorknob, you give his ass a quick grope.
He makes a quiet sound of surprise before casting a questioning look in your direction.
You smile. "I don't feel like I properly expressed how great it looked earlier."
He rolls his eyes before pushing the trailer door open and stepping back out onto the desert sand.
You give a self-satisfied chuckle as you close the door behind him, opting to utilize the air-conditioned refuge of his trailer for the remainder of the afternoon.
Tonight is going to be fun, you think as you watch him reunite with the crew throught the window.
You'll do your best to drive him wild. It's only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine.
-
Taglist (Ask to be Included!)
@mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper
463 notes · View notes
miasmaghoul · 8 months
Note
chewing on swiss and cumulus
uh oh
i was bitten by the somno bug
swiss using his spooky shadows for nefarious (but consensual) purposes under the cut
She looks so pretty when she sleeps.
Well, she always looks pretty, but especially like this.
Bathed in moonlight, pale skin and snow white curls shimmering against deep navy sheets. Her ample chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, pale pink lips parted just enough for him to hear her soft sighs. She's uncovered, blanket bunched by her feet, clad only in a set of thin shorts and matching camisole.
She looks so peaceful. So delicate.
So vulnerable.
In truth he's been waiting since Cumulus got his attention in the common room. Since she wound her tail around his calf while they watched a baking show with Aurora and Mountain. Since she'd given his leg a surreptitious squeeze, just enough to draw his attention, before loosing an exaggerated yawn.
He's been here for a while now, leaning by her open window and simply...watching. Well, waiting may be a more apt term, but both apply.
"Think I'm gonna turn in early," she'd murmured, stretching enough that her shirt slid up, exposing her soft tummy and the bare undersides of her breasts.
Swiss had pretended to keep watching the show, but all of his attention was squarely on the ghoulette at his side. On the way she squeezed his hand, the way her tail slid up his leg. The way its feathery tip brushed over his crotch.
"Aww, c'mon Lulu," Aurora had pouted, raising her head from Mountain's thigh, "it's the semi-final! Don't you wanna see?"
"I've watched this season four times, snowflake," she'd replied with a chuckle. "Don't worry, I'll watch more with you tomorrow."
She'd sauntered over to plant a quick kiss on the other ghoulette's cheek, leaving Swiss no option but to stare at her ass. Mountain had made a soft chuffing sound, and of course she'd had to give him one too. Swiss had smirked.
"What, no love for me, Lus?"
Swiss had put on his best puppy dog eyes, and all three of them had snorted. Everyone knew those only worked on Rain. Maybe Dew, on a good day. Still, though, it had the desired effect. Cumulus had swished her way behind the couch he was on, leaning over to plant a kiss on his temple.
"Knew I was your favorite," he'd said, and had earned a playful smack to the back of his head for his troubles. She'd yawned again then, just as obvious and showy as before, and Swiss knew that the sparkle in her entrancing silver eyes was meant just for him.
"Good night," she'd sighed to the room in general. Mountain had echoed the sentiment, while Swiss gave her a wink that the others couldn't see.
"Sweet dreams," Aurora had called after her, blowing a kiss that Cumulus happily caught. Her smile was lazy, sweet, and aimed right at Swiss.
"I'm sure they will be."
Finding her door unlocked an hour later had been the only further invitation he'd needed.
A cool spring breeze rolls through Cumulus's open window, rustles sheer drapes, and when it ghosts over her ethereal form Swiss has the singular pleasure of watching her nipples stiffen. They poke through the pale blue silk of her camisole in a drool-worthy way, and the ghoulette gives an unconscious shiver. Poor thing must be chilly.
Swiss will make sure she doesn't stay that way much longer.
He likes to take his time when Cumulus allows him this freedom. Likes to watch, to absorb. To burn her serene visage into his memory for later use. Someday he'll have to ask if he can photograph her like this; she's just so beautiful, it's a crime she can't see for herself.
Swiss smiles to himself when she shifts, readjusting so one arm rests over her belly and the other by her side. Her soft curls have fallen into her face, and he can just make out the edge of a drool stain on her pillow. Deep asleep and completely oblivious.
Perfection.
Swiss palms himself as he pushes off the wall, striding on silent feet to the foot of the bed. He's been chubbed up since Cumulus teased him with her tail, had to hide it from Aurora and Mountain with a strategically placed pillow. One he certainly hadn't been tempted to hump, not even a little.
His shadows follow, a hazy aura of darkness gathered around his shoulders and dripping down his arms. They float when he moves, fluid in the way smoke is. It's rare that he gets to flaunt this little skill of his - few know about it, and he'd like to keep it that way. Every ghoul has their secrets, it's true, but getting to let loose always sets his skin buzzing.
Swiss takes a deep breath and focuses on the scent of the air, the feel of hardwood beneath his feet, the sound of Cumulus's gentle breathing. Makes himself one with the space around him in every way possible. Slowly, so very slowly, the shadows begin to move, to spread. They coat his arms, his chest, weaving intricate patterns over his skin. He doesn't really need to be naked for this, but it's not surprising that he is.
Dark whorls snake their way down his thighs, his calves, bleeding into the shadows at his feet. It's a jarring feeling, but not an entirely unpleasant one - his influence may be magickal, but the shadows themselves are like an extension of himself. He can feel all manner of things through them, depending on his point of focus. Can slip them into someone's silhouette to parse their emotions. Can smell bitter fear and taste sugary-sweet elation. He can listen too, sliding his unearthly ears wherever the dark allows.
If Imperator knew the secrets Swiss carries with him, he'd be banished before he could blink.
He sighs heavy through his nose when they find warm skin, a thin snake of darkness slithering its way over Cumulus's outstretched ankle. It shouldn't be so warm, wouldn't be if he were just using his hand, but like this? Like this she feels hotter than Dew.
His favorite thing, though, is this.
Touching. Feeling. Exploring. Letting his wispy tendrils get acquainted with his surroundings. It's easier now than it once was, Cumulus's chambers have long since become familiar territory, and in no time at all Swiss can guide his shadows creep up the legs of the bed frame. Onto the mattress. Over the sheets.
It takes no effort at all to guide his magick up her leg, tattooing her with his power in delicate swirls and ripples. He's gotten more adept at directing them since they started doing this, and Swiss takes a moment to draw a sweet little heart on her knee just because he can. It won't stay, of course, but it's the thought that counts.
The shadows continue, slipping up her plush thigh to tease the edge of her shorts. They sit high on her hips, exposing so much decadent skin. Swiss focuses, licks at the air, and finds his mouth filled with the taste of honey and lavender - Cumulus's body oil, the one Mountain makes just for her. No wonder she's shimmering in the moonlight. It suits her.
Cumulus adjusts in her sleep again, smacking her lips and making a soft sound that can't quite be called a word. Dreaming, he imagines. He can't tell, that falls more into Aether and Aeon's realm of expertise. His own sliver of quintessence gets him this far, and Swiss can't complain. Would he like to see inside her mind? Of course. Will he complain about sneakily getting in her pants instead? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
It's easy to slide under the hem of her shorts, reaching into the little pocket of darkness beneath them. A second shadow creeps its way up towards Cumulus's arm while the first explores the hidden skin beneath soft silk, wrapping itself around her elegant fingers as if it wants to hold her hand. A little bit of tenderness goes a long way, Swiss thinks. Even at times like this.
His own hands are busy doing some exploring of their own. Impossible not to when every fiber of his being can feel Cumulus's warmth. It radiates from his toes to his scalp and everywhere in between - Swiss would be concerned for anyone who could keep their hands off of their dick under these circumstances. He holds his at the base, twisting two fingers around the last inch or so just for the sake of pressure. His other hand mirrors the path of his first shadow, creeping up his own thigh, over his hip, up to his happy trail. He should be feeling coarse hair and his own delicately twitching stomach muscles.
Instead, all he feels is her.
His second sliver of shadow slips over her shoulder just as the first wriggles its way out from under the waistband of her shorts. It curls along her belly, just visible where her top has ridden up. Her breasts spill out from the edges of the camisole, pale fabric hugging the soft mounds, their tips still peaked with the chill of the room. That worming shadow sneaks along her neck - Swiss finds his nose filled with sweet perfume - and down over her chest, sliding beneath lace and silk to trace her curves.
He takes a moment to drink her in, coated in his power and yet still sleeping soundly. No reason she shouldn't be, this part is more for him than it is for her. It allows him to surround himself in the ghoulette, to revel in everything she is. Sometimes he'll take a few extra minutes to glide his magick along her horns, her tail, her feather-tipped ears. Really soak in the sensation, occassionally sending pulses of magick through the shadowy appendages to find her sensitive spots so he knows just where to press.
Tonight, though, he's already leaking onto the hardwood floor. Besides, he's done this enough to know her body. Better than she does, even. Cumulus would argue that fact whenever she needed a quick cum - after all, Swiss was more than eager to prove himself.
He takes a deep breath through his nose, fills his lungs with a heady combination of lavendar and ozone, and on exhale pushes more magick into those searching tendrils. Inch by inch they thicken, gain density. They shift from dark but translucent to opaque black, the new weight of them settling into her skin and forming bulges beneath her pajamas. The rush of it makes him dizzy - this is Swiss's newest skill, he's still not an expert - and the ghoul has to catch himself on one of the bedposts. It's hung with gauzy white fabric held by shiny blue rope, and Swiss briefly finds himself wondering if Cumulus would let him use them on her.
A thought for another day, surely. It makes his balls ache just the same, and Swiss has to give himself a lazy tug. Not too much, the best part is coming up. He wouldn't want to ruin it by getting too excited now.
Cumulus makes a soft sound when Swiss nudges the bed, but doesn't wake. He cocks his head as he takes in the shape of her, the curves and lines of her body. His tentacles - that really is a better word for them in this solid state, Swiss thinks - follow them, so striking against her skin. Gently, slowly, he urges the one in her top to move. To slither its tapered end up the curve of her breast, his eyes tracking each movement under that silk as it moves. As the flexible tip wraps around the stiff bud of her nipple, Swiss rubs his own. The sensation of it still reflects on his own body, but its dulled now that the shadows have solid form. It's something he's grown to expect, but Swiss likes to think he's come up with a creative solution.
He may not be able to feel all of Cumulus's pleasure, but he can sure as hell imitate its cause.
With a shivery exhale from Swiss, a third dark tentacle sprouts from the pool at his feet. It wraps its way up his calf just as Cumulus's tail had done earlier in the night, cool and smooth against his skin. He watches it crawl upwards, looping around his thigh and brushing against his heavy sack in the process. Swiss groans with it, a barely audible sound, guiding its length up his chest to tease his nipple. He makes it squeeze, makes the one on Cumulus do the same, and the combined sensation takes Swiss's breath away.
He can feel how heavy his eyelids have gotten, knows his breaths are already coming in harder. He can't help it, playing like this does something incomparable to his brain and body alike. And it's not like Cumulus isn't getting something out of it too; she'll wake up with wet shorts in the morning and know exactly why.
Swiss swirls a finger in the air and the slender appendage at her chest wraps itself around her full breast, squeezes, and Swiss mirrors every bit of it on his own pec. It's unconscious now, syncing them up. He'd struggled at first, made things a touch awkward, but now it's second nature.
Just like the fourth tentacle now coursing its way up his other leg, the thing wasting no time in matching how its twin rests on Cumulus's stomach. Hers wriggles over her beautiful pudge to press into her navel, prodding at the divot with teasing intent. Swiss smiles when his does the same, mostly because he feels the way it tickles her.
Cumulus makes her first real noise when Swiss rubs at her nipple again, the thin tip of his shadow flicking over the taut nub. It's no more than a soft, sudden inhale, barely noticable, but Swiss feels it in every inch of his body. She's never really noisy like this, but he's learned the ones she does make by heart.
The gasp she looses when he squeezes her nipples.
The quiet "nnh" sound that escapes when the second tentacle curls around the side of her shorts and tugs them slowly down just enough to expose her pretty pink cunt.
The breathy "oh" that marks the moment that dark, squirming arm slides its tip along her slit.
That one is his favorite.
She's slick to the eye, and Swiss's stomach swoops when he thinks about Cumulus touching herself before she dozed off. Got herself worked up, probably got so close, but didn't let herself cum. Probably stroked that gorgeous, fat clit of hers until it was aching and her whole body quivered. Until she was nice and slippery and open for him. Just for him.
Oh, Swiss will let her do whatever the fuck she wants to him tomorrow.
His own tentacle still follows, gliding up over his hip to settle at the base of his cock, replacing his tight fist. Swiss immediately grips the bed frame instead, still holding its post with the other, hunching with a choked gasp. It all feels so much better than it has any right to, he swears it. Even still, he allows the tentacles to move; Cumulus's dips itself between blushing lips to gather her slick, glistening in the low light, before Swiss directs it to the beautiful length of her clit. It's still reddened and puffy from Cumulus's own ministrations, and the second that tentacle glides over it, his own tickles his rapidly purpling tip.
They both make sounds then, Swiss a nearly-silent curse and Cumulus a low "ooh". Her tongue pokes out between her fangs when he repeats the motion, the corner of her eye twitching. He sucks his lip between his teeth when she starts getting stiff for him, that little bit of length going firm the more he works her. His own matches it, working his thick head and wriggling against his frenulum enough to milk drop after slippery drop of pre onto her soft sheets. His cock bounces with each one, Swiss giving a wholly involuntary rock of his hips when Cumulus throbs. He watches her hole clench and knows for certain that this will not be a long session.
Good thing he knows her so well.
The tip of the tentacle between her thighs stays at their apex, but further down, where things get just a bit thicker, the body of the thing starts to bend. To fold over on itself, doubling up into a curve of not-small girth. Not as thick as Swiss, of course, but enough to feel and a thousand times more flexible. His cock gives a hard twitch when the rounded end of it slips between her folds, his own working it's way down his shaft in response.
Fuck she's so warm inside, so velvety. He feels it tenfold like this, heat blooming low in his belly when his shadow presses into her welcoming hole. She lets out a brief groan at the stretch, the pressure, but Swiss doesn't relent. He invades her body with his power, matches it on his own, and only stops when the end of his tentacle wraps around the thick base of his cock. A pale imitation of the real thing, perhaps, but something about fucking her like this makes Swiss ache.
The first shallow rock of his hips is a revelation.
Evey time they do this, he swears he'll make it last. Tells himself that this time he won't fall apart so quickly. That he won't lose his composure like a teenager sticking his dick in a warm hole for the first time. He tries, he swears he tries, but -
"Fuck," he squeaks out, throat tighter than the slippery length squeezing his cock, "so wet, you're so wet Lus, shit."
She can't hear him, he knows she can't, but the way she flutters around him and huffs seems to suggest otherwise. She's so responsive like this, weak to every twitch of the ropes of darkness helping themselves to her body. Her chest has started to heave just enough to notice, her cheeks stained pale pink, and Swiss can't hope to keep himself from rolling his hips.
He's close so quick, the tentacle writhing around him in a perfect facsimile of Cumulus's wonderous body dragging him swiftly higher. He moans deep in his chest as his balls start to tighten, gritting his teeth and focusing all his attention on the ghoulette before him.
The tentacle on her chest has since wrapped itself around her other breast, rock hard nipples still jutting against the fabric as it teases them. Swiss's matching one does the same, little shocks of pleasure zipping straight to his groin with each touch.
The one between her legs works expertly to draw utterly unconscious moans from her parted lips, Swiss curving it just enough to drag over the places that he knows will have her soaking the sheets. Cumulus has started getting noisier with each thrust, so Swiss keeps them slow and even. The only measure of control he has left.
It doesn't make him last longer, though. The feel of it is too maddening - Swiss has to let himself go, he simply has no other choice. But he's nothing if not a gentleman, and he's certainly not going to cum before she does.
That wouldn't be proper.
Swiss has the tip of that slick tentacle working her clit again in a rabbit-quick heartbeat, flicking over the stiff head of it just the way she likes best. Swiss mirrors it with his tongue and drools as the taste of her fills his mouth, hips stuttering when his dick kicks hard. Honey-sweet musk overwhelms his senses, and Swiss has to hang his head as he humps the air with jerky, amateurish motions.
It's no time before the tentacle undulating around him goes telltale tight, and Swiss's whimper is impossible to hold back. He chokes on his exhale when Cumulus's breathing goes harsh, and with one last pump of his eager hips he's shooting hard and heavy onto her bed.
It hits him like a truck, an orgasm that feels like it starts in his toes and ends at the tips of his hair. Swiss paints her sheets with pearly white stripes as his cock bobs and jerks around, leaving a huge mess behind. He couldn't care less, not when Cumulus shudders and grunts through her own orgasm, a hot rush of fluid coating his shadow while her thighs quiver. Every inch of him throbs with it, his cock drooling out everything has.
He's so dazed he can hardly see straight, entranced by the way she twitches through it, the way her breath catches. He works himself right into writhing oversensitivity in the name of wringing every last drop of pleasure from her. He'd stay like this forever if he could, lost in their combined buzz of sensation and blessed relief.
One of these days he'll last more than five minutes.
Swiss waits until she's breathing normally before he lets his shadows retreat, sighing as they slip slowly back into the dark. The one that slides from her cunt leaves a shiny, wet trail along her thigh and Swiss drools down his chin.
Exhaustion hits hard once the magick fades away, makes him sway in place, and with a mighty yawn Swiss forces himself away from the bed. He shuffles alongside it as he blinks impending sleep from his eyes, a dopey smile firmly place as he takes in Cumulus's lovely face. Perfectly relax and deeply satisfied, obvious even in her sleep. He leans down to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, and has to press a quick kiss to her forehead on his way back up.
Swiss gathers her bunched up blanket then, tucks the ghoulette in right up to her neck. Blocks out the returning chill and relishes the soft hum she gives in return.
He doesn't fix her pajamas, though. Leaves her top askew and her shorts around her thighs. A little something to make her throb when she wakes up, before she even feels evidence of him. He knows it'll pull the loveliest chiming giggle from her, one he's heard before, and even the thought sends a delightful shiver down his spine.
He stumbles back to his room on drunken legs, flops face first into bed, and knows that when he wakes up in about a dozen hours it'll be to her mouth on his cock.
Swiss falls asleep with a smile on his face.
72 notes · View notes
Text
Arguments
Tumblr media
Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader
Summary: Jensen's ex wife Danneel made some harsh remarks towards the reader and instead of calling her out for it he did nothing.
THIS IS PURE FICTION ALRIGHT SO DON'T COME FOR ME! I LOVE DANNEEL & JENSEN'S RELATIONSHIP 😅
MASTERLIST
----
The wrap party for the long-running show Supernatural was in full swing, music playing in the background of the room filled with production crew and the main stars of the show.
Y/N took the beer bottle from Jensen's grasp and thanked him for the beverage. If it was completely up to her she would've stayed at home but she knew how much tonight meant to her boyfriend and she didn't want to let him down tonight by not attending the wrap party for the show.
"You're pretty quiet tonight, everything alright?" Jensen's breath fanned against her ear and he spoke for only her to hear him. Usually Y/N would be the life of the party, joining him and Jared for a round of shots but tonight she opted to keep her distance from the crowd, especially his ex-wife Danneel.
"Everything's fine J don't worry about me." Y/N tried her best to reassure him that nothing was wrong but they both knew that something was definitely off.
"Y/N! How nice to finally see you crawled out of your hole to join us." Jared wrapped her up in one of his bear hugs with Genevieve and the redhead beside him. Genevieve pried him off of her to give her a hug as well while Danneel merely gave her a once over over the rim of her glass.
"It's nice to see you as well, how are the kiddos?"
"They're great, Odette is growing up so fast."
"And Danneel, how are you?" Y/N always tried to be civil whenever they were in the same room but the red head never cared much about Jensen's new and younger lover.
"Clearly better than you, when was the last time you looked in a mirror?" Genevieve and Jared both shared the same look, the taller one in the group nudged his friend to speak up but he chose to stay out of it hoping that she would stop.
"Right before I left home actually."
"And you still left the house looking like that, damn Jensen, you could've upgraded at least." Jensen remained tight-lipped which angered Y/N even further. Pleased with herself, the red head left the four of them behind, making her way through the mass of bodies in the room.
"Don't take her on Y/N, she's just had too much to drink tonight, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it." Genevieve gave her arm a gentle squeeze, Jared on the other hand dragged his friend away to talk some sense into him.
"No Gen, that's how she’s always been towards me since Jensen introduced me into the kid's lives. I try to be civil at least enough for their kids but she makes it so damn hard and Jensen- you know what, I think I'm calling it a night." Genevieve knew there was no use in trying to stop her friend from leaving, she was pissed off and the fact that Jensen didn't tell his ex-wife to back off only added fuel to the raging fire.
"How are you gonna get home?"
"I'll get an Uber, if he asks for me kindly tell him to fuck off. Goodnight Gen, you guys have fun, I'm not staying to ruin anyone's night." Y/N downed her beer and left the empty bottle on the nearest table on her way out.
Danneel couldn't help but smile, watching on as Y/N stormed out and got into an Uber. There was nothing wrong about the girl that her kids called "Mommy number two" other than the fact that she now had Jensen and she hated that.
The red head sauntered over to the trio who were deep in a conversation; one that Jensen wasn't pleased with having out in the open. His green eyes found the conniving woman and his scowl deepened further. Jared and Genevieve threw glares at her as they left them to talk.
"You are unbelievable Danneel, all she’s been trying to do was be cordial but for whatever reason yet again, you’ve been nothing but a bitch with your constant jabs at her.” Jensen has had more than enough of the red head to last him a lifetime, the only reason he still considers her someone important in his life is the kids that they created together.
“Oh please J, you know you could do much better. Maybe even coming back to me, we could pick things up right where we left off. Admit it J, you still love me.” Jensen tensed up beneath her hold on his bicep, pulling herself closer to him.
“You’ve officially lost all sense, there’s nothing there Danneel.”
“Oh it’s there J that’s a lot of years, memories to just walk away from.”
“Yeah, well I wasn’t the one that walked first.” With that said, Jensen left her standing there, making his way through the crowd. His green eyes scanned the mass of bodies for his girlfriend but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Gen have you seen Y/N?”
“She left and don’t you even think about going after her so soon. She’s upset and you rushing home to get to her would be a stupid decision, give her time to cool off properly otherwise you’d be sleeping on the patio.” As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
While Jensen grabbed himself a bottle of water, Y/N’s Uber was pulling up to the curb of their home. She paid the young man and got out.
"Thanks, have a goodnight."
She shut the car door and made her way up to the front door of her shared house with Jensen. She was still pissed off about the way Danneel made it her business to be rude to her; hopefully Jensen doesn't come home anytime soon because he would get an earful from her.
She decided to take a shower that was needed now more than ever to wash away her anger. Hopefully Genevieve and Jared kept Jensen busy until they decided that it was all clear for him to leave the party to get to her. Once she was finished, she got out and dried her skin before pulling up her underwear and slipping on one of her big t-shirts.
Her phone kept buzzing on the nightstand with Jensen’s face and caller ID lighting up the screen. She watched it ring until I went to voice-mail.
"Damnit Y/N." Jensen's frown deepened as he tapped on her contact to send her a message instead; all he wanted to know was that she's fine.
Hey angel, did you get home okay? I'm losing my mind here. Could you please let me know.
Her phone pinged signalling his text and her only response was the emoji thumbs up. She didn't want to talk to him right now but she also didn't want him to worry about her safety. Jensen, however, wanted more than a thumbs up reaction to his message. He made his final rounds around the room and left the wrap party. Y/N has had more than enough time to relax.
Speaking of which, Y/N was now sprawled out on the couch flicking through the cable channels, CW had reruns of Supernatural and the last thing she wanted to see was Danneel sharing the screen with J2. She kept changing the channel until she finally settled on a home renovation show. Her phone screen lit up yet again but this time it was JJ trying to FaceTime.
“Hiya sweetpea.”
“Hi!” The little girl smiled brightly at her, Arrow and Zepplin were standing behind her on their mother’s couch with their hands in their older sister’s hair.
“What are you three doing up, it’s late.”
“Couldn’t sleep and our sitter doesn’t mind that we’re up. Aren’t you supposed to be with dad?” In the background Zepplin reached over to Arrow and grabbed a handful of her hair to pull her head towards him.
“I was but then I had to leave early. Zep don’t yank Arrow’s hair, baby boy.” The five year old listened to her and untangled his tiny hands from Arrow’s locks.
“What do you say?”
“Sorry sissy.” The little boy kissed his sister’s cheek and she pushed away, still upset that he pulled her hair.
“Is dad home? I tried calling him but it went straight to voicemail.” The Ackles offspring had impeccable timing because as soon as the words left her mouth, the front door opened and the man in question walked in.
“He is now.”
“Can I talk to him?” Y/N pushed up to her feet and passed him the phone on her way to the kitchen; she didn’t stick around to listen to his conversation with the kids. Jensen shifted his focus from his pissed off lady to his kids that were excited to see him. They told him how their day was and what movie they’re watching, the regular stuff kids that age always got excited to tell their parents about. JJ could tell that there was more going on between her dad and Y/N as he didn’t greet her the way he usually did with a kiss to her cheek or forehead; they were fighting.
“Dad are you and Y/N fighting?” Jensen merely scoffed at his daughter’s excellent observation skills. With her arms crossed and eyebrows lifted, the eight year old waited for him to say something but he didn’t.
“If you are, you need to make it better before we get there tomorrow afternoon.”
“Alright, alright missy. You and your siblings should get some sleep, I love you J bird. Goodnight rascals.” The call ended and he placed the device on the coffee table; time to attempt to talk to Y/N who busied herself with washing the dishes in the sink.
“Darlin’.”
No answer. Jensen closed the distance between them by moving to wrap his arms around her stomach, knowing how much she loved when he did that.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something.”
“Why, it’s not the first time you’ve let that shit slide Ackles so why apologise now?” Y/N tried to get out of his hold but that only made him hold onto her tighter.
“Let me go Jensen.”
“No, you’re going to stay right here and listen to me.” His beard burned against the shell of her ear.
“You’re right, I did let her get away with a lot but tonight was the final straw. I called her out for it afterwards and I know that me saying this might not even mean shit to you but I did.”
“Only took you sixteen months but hey, you said something. I’m serious Jensen, let me go.” Defeated, he did as told and she gladly took several steps away from him.
“Did she at least tell you why she’s been bitching at me every single chance she had?” Y/N wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew the redhead still had feelings for him but she wanted to hear the words leave his mouth.
“She still has feelings for me apparently.”
“What about you, do you still have feelings for her?”
“No, hell no. I closed that door the minute I signed those divorce papers. The only woman that I love is standing in this room.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N spun on her heels to leave the kitchen.
“You would’ve put a stop to it sooner if that was true. I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.” Jensen followed after her all the way up the stairs to the guest room at the end of the hallway but he was a second too slow to stop the door from closing in. The lock clicked and he sighed, knocking against the wood.
“Baby please, open the door.” Y/N leaned against the door instead of letting him in.
“You’re right, the first time it happened I should’ve nipped it in the bud but instead I let it drag on for far too long and that must’ve given you the impression that I still have feelings for her but I promise you that I don’t. If it wasn’t for JJ, Arrow and Zepplin I wouldn’t have any sort of connection to her but we do have the kids Y/N and they adore you just as much as I do.” Y/N felt her anger slowly slipping away and she hated the fact that he couldn’t leave her to be angry.
“You can be mad at me all you want tomorrow baby but let’s not go to bed like this.” She caved and unlocked the door. Jensen let himself in and immediately pulled her flush against him, wrapping his arms around her and she caressed the back of his head.
“I love you darlin’.”
“You couldn’t let me be mad at you for once.”
“Nope.” Jensen hoisted her up into his arms and she instinctively secured her legs around him.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re not sleeping in here and I have some making up to do.” Jensen carried her over to their room with a cheeky smile on his face. Y/N squealed as he dropped her on the bed and he wasted no time in caging her beneath him.
“What are you waiting for?”
1K notes · View notes
callsign-peach · 1 year
Text
Signs
request(s): A fic where ur maverick’s daughter and roosters best friend and Jake tries to hit on you but fails? + Can I request something where Jake is dating someone deaf? I don’t see a lot of representation and I feel like there should be more! Thx!
warnings: i'm not deaf, so there will most likely be inaccuracies, but i did take asl in high school and have kept in contact w/ some Deaf classmates
a/n: sign language is in italics, written out in english rather than asl format ---- Bradley waited for Pete to finish with the newest class of Top Gun students, knee bouncing as he sat in one of the empty seats.
"What's got your panties in a bunch?"
Bradley rolled his eyes at his wingman, and Jake narrowed his eyes. "This the same reason why Maverick cancelled training for tomorrow?"
At the mention of his name, the Captain walked into the room, flight suit tied around his waist. "What did I do?"
"Rooster's gonna bounce a hole into the floor, all I asked is if it was the same reason you're letting the new guys off the hook tomorrow?"
Pete nodded, grabbing his eyes. "It is. Come on, kid. We're gonna be late."
Bradley waisted no time, hopping up and following his godfather out of the room.
Jake stared at the two retreating men. "See you tomorrow, I guess!"
Hours later, the go-to drinking hole near base was filing up as usual.
"What's on tap tonight, Penny my dear?" Jake asked, sauntering into The Hard Deck.
The older woman looked up from where she was drying glasses, soft smile on her face. "Same as usual, Jake."
The aviator thought for a moment, before ordering his usual. "Hey, do you know why Rooster was all anxious today? Could barely keep up with the drills."
"I do, yes."
"Why?"
"Oh no, not getting an answer out of me that easily. They'll tell you when they want you to know. Now," Penny nodded over to Javy near the dartboard, "I think you're needed over by the back."
Jake huffed, taking his pint and going over to his best friend. "Hey, you ready to lose?"
The two men played a couple rounds of darts before the rest of the Dagger squad arrived, the group starting their usual game of pool.
"There he is!" Mickey cheered, thankful Bradley had shown up. "Finally, someone who can rival Phoenix at pool."
Bradley snorted, taking the cue from his friend's hand. "How many games you lose, Fanboy?"
"Too many." The shorter aviator frowned, going to the bar to grab another round.
Jake was distracted, eyeing up the woman who had walked into the bar a few moments after his friend. "I'll be right back."
No one seemed to hear him, so he nodded his head and dipped from the group, going to introduce himself to the mystery woman.
"Can I get you a drink?" He asked.
No response, not even a pity smile.
Jake sighed, wracking his mind to figure out if he had seen this woman on base, with another aviator or sailor, anything to explain her lack of response.
"Okay, no drink, anything on the food menu you like?" Jake asked, presuming the woman wasn't into drinking.
Still no response, so he nodded to himself and made the walk of shame back to his friends, who had since noticed his disappearance.
"She give you the cold shoulder?" Rueben asked, laughing at his friend.
Bradley had a smirk on his lips as he brought his beer bottle to his lips. "Nice one, Bagman."
"Like you could do any better, Bradshaw." Jake shot back, finishing off his beer.
"I'm sure I could, but not with her."
"Why?" Mickey asked, always ready for gossip among the aviators.
Bradley was silent for a moment. "That's Mav's daughter, closest thing to a sister I have. So," Bradley set his bottle on the table. "I'd rather go through Coffin Corner again than ask her out."
"Maverick has a daughter? Since when?" Mickey voiced the question everyone but Bradley was thinking.
"Since her mom dumped her at Mav's place when she was three." Bradley's voice lacked emotion. "I'll never forget when he first showed up with her, thought my mom was going to lose her mind right then and there."
Not knowing how to change the topic subtly, Bob was the first one to speak up, asking if anyone wanted to rack the balls for a new game. --- Tying his flight suit around his waist, Jake started walking over to the hangar where he knew Pete would be, hoping to get advice on some improvements for his next module for the Ensigns.
He stopped when he saw the man standing in front of his own plane, hands moving rapidly.
"Oh." Jake mumbled softly, wishing he had been anywhere else, not about to break up what appeared to be an argument.
Pete turned his head when he heard Jake accidentally kick an abandoned wrench. "Hangman?"
"Could I talk to you for a second, Mav? If you have time, no rush." Jake spoke quickly, eyes dancing between the two, noticing the similarities of father and daughter.
"Yeah, yeah, just-" Pete signed something to his daughter, who huffed and stormed away, eyes catching Jake's for a brief moment.
"What's up?" Pete asked, wiping his hands on the rag in his pocket, some oil sticking to his knuckles.
"I was going over the plan that you said we could use for the new guys, and I noticed some stuff was different than what Admiral Kane wants them to know."
Pete stared at the young aviator. "Is there a reason why you came to me rather than just going to ask Kane?"
Not having a good reply, Jake opened his mouth before clamping it shut.
"That was my daughter." Pete explained, nodding to the open hangar doors.
"Yeah, Bradshaw mentioned it the other night. I didn't know you had a daughter."
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Hangman." Pete spoke, voice clipped. "Just- for the plans, put in whatever Kane wants to add. That's what I do."
Jake nodded, thanking his superior. "Thanks, Mav." --- You watched as Bradley thanked the barista, taking the two cups from him and walking back over to the table you had claimed when you walked in.
"A coffee for you." Bradley said, setting one cup down on the table, taking a long sip from the other.
Who's the blonde guy you fly with? You asked, wasting no time with small talk. You had known the man across from you for almost your entire life, you knew he was always going to say he was doing fine.
Bradley coughed on the coffee, setting down his cup. Why?
I asked first. Who is he?
"No one you need to concern yourself with." Bradley spoke as he signed, a habit of his. "His callsign's Hangman. He's known for leaving his wingman."
The callsign was familiar to you, your dad having mentioned him after the uranium mission. He's the one who saved you and Dad. Why do you hate him?
"I don't hate him, but I don't particularly like him, either." Bradley took another swig from his drink. "Again, why do you want to know who he is?"
Shrugging, you brought the coffee to your lips. Curiosity.
Bradley knew you well enough to guess where the conversation was heading. "He's going to break your heart, he's not one to settle down."
Doesn't hurt to ask. Will he be at the bar?
"Yes, why?" Bradley asked, not liking where this conversation was going.
You're going to introduce me, I want to know the guy who saved the lives of the two most important people in my life.
"Fine, but not just to him. That'll be too weird. You can meet everyone." Bradley wagered, smiling when you relented to his ask. --- Bradley chewed on his lip as he waited for your Lyft to drop you off outside the bar.
Both he and Pete had offered to drive you over to the bar, but they both had to be on-base all day, and you had spent the day in San Diego, so a ride-share made the most sense.
“Hey, Rooster, why don’t you get a beer, she’ll text you when she’s here.” Pete joined his godson outside.
“I’m good.”
“Bradley.” Pete looked at the younger aviator. “She can handle herself, has been for a while now.”
Growing up, Bradley had been your guardian angel, so-to-speak. He was in the grade above you, and was a force to be feared when the kids at school made fun of you.
“She still like ciders?” Bradley asked, standing from where he was hunched, leaning on the railing.
“Oh yes, first thing she asked for after you dropped us off.”
Bradley laughed, going in to order two hard ciders.
---
You smiled at the driver as you got out of the car, making sure you had your phone and purse before closing the door.
You had texted Bradley that you were in front, but assuming he was with his friends, you didn’t wait for him to greet you.
Pulling the door open, you were met with the smell of stale alcohol and multiple colognes, creating a unique smell you hadn’t realized you missed.
Penny smiled from the bar, nodding her head over to the corner where you noticed Bradley’s distinct Hawaiian shirt.
Sending her a smile, you made your way over, moseying around a few khaki-clad men and women.
Bradley spun around when he felt a tap on his shoulder, face breaking out into a wide smile.
“Hey, you made it!” He greeted you, handing you the hard cider that he had gotten a few minutes ago.
Having noticed the newcomer, the dagger squad all paused their game of pool, wanting to meet you.
“Everyone, this is Mav’s daughter,” Bradley introduced you, before pointing to each member and signing as he spoke.
It’s nice to finally put faces to the names my dad has been praising for a while. You signed, Bradley interpreting for you.
“I thought Rooster was pulling our legs when he said Mav had a kid, honestly.” Mickey said, smiling at you.
Jake had been silent during the introductions, choosing to watch as you reacted to each callsign, eyebrow raising when Bob was mentioned.
He noticed the twinkle in your eye, and how you had a scar poking above your eyebrow. He noticed that you were wearing some cut-off shorts and a loose top, the go-to for the hot San Diego summers.
“-is Hangman, but you already knew that.”
Jake was brought out of his thoughts when he heard his name, smiling at you. “It’s nice to see you again. Hopefully all’s well with your dad?”
Bradley signed Jake’s words, and you snorted.
“He’s just an old man who doesn’t know his head from- no, I’m not going to interpret that. Oh my God.” Bradley groaned. “It was a mistake introducing you to everyone.”
You slapped his shoulder, though you had a smile on your face.
The dagger squad had accepted you with open arms, and Mickey wasted no time telling you the dirt on the rest of the squad, Bradley having even learned a thing or two.
---
Over the following days, Jake had learned more about you from his flights with Bradley. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“If I say no, are you going to ask me anyway?” Bradley asked, squinting as he looked over at his wingman as the two went over the post-flight checklist.
“No.”
The answer stunned Bradley, who was honestly expecting the opposite. “Ask away.”
Jake paused, gnawing on his lip. “Is Y/N seeing anyone?”
Bradley looked up from where he was scribbling the time they finished flying. “Why?”
Shrugging, Jake toyed with the dog tags, a nervous habit he had developed during the uranium mission training. “Curiosity.”
Bradley chuckled at the answer, remembering when you had replied the same the other day when he asked why you wanted to know about Jake.
“No. She’s not seeing anyone.”
Jake smiled, wiping a speck of dirt off his helmet.
“I know it’s hard for you, but try not to do anything stupid. She’s been though enough, getting played doesn’t have to be on that list.”
---
Days later, you were sitting at the cafe you and Bradley often met at, though this time you were nose-deep in potential employers.
A sudden shift on the table made you jump, heart racing. Looking up, you let out a breath when you saw Jake.
“Sorry, sorry!” He said, fist moving in a circle around his chest.
Stunned, you pointed to him and rose an eyebrow. You sign?
Jake blanched, sitting in the seat across from you. “Clearly not enough.”
You laughed, pulling your phone out of your purse and opening the Notes app.
Do you know sign language? You signed sorry.
Jake looked at you as you passed the phone over, eyes falling to the screen.
“I don’t, not enough to hold a conversation.” Jake spoke, thankful Bradley had mentioned that you could get by reading lips, so long as the person didn’t speak too fast or too slow.
“But I’m learning. I’d really like to get to know you, and what better way than learning a new language?”
You smiled, grabbing your phone.
No one has ever done that before. Thank you, Jake. What do you know now?
Jake smiled, rambling off the various words and phrases he had memorized, smile growing as you nodded for encouragement and helped fix the positioning for certain words.
You’ll be a pro in no time, it took Dad weeks to learn this stuff!
Laughing, the two of you spent hours talking, getting to know each other, before you two were nicely kicked out of the cafe so they could close.
“It was nice getting to talk to you, can we do this again?” Jake asked, not wanting the night to end.
I’d love that. You signed, mouthing the words as you did.
The two of you set a night each week to meet up, and before anyone knew it, the two of you were inseparable, finishing each other’s sentences.
---
a/n: do i get the award for not knowing how to finish anything? Because I think I do!!
send requests
347 notes · View notes
bluerose5 · 11 days
Note
Hmm how about Halsin and Iron Bull (in whatever relationship dynamic you like!) commiserating after a fight with some goblins?
The kind of ship that snuck up on me out of nowhere. These two 100% took control of the fic and made it longer than what I intended, although I'm not complaining. 😌
...
One thing the Iron Bull never expected was for Halsin to admit to being a lightweight of all things.
While the tieflings' party was in full swing, he made his rounds throughout camp, took note of where everyone else's minds were at, his companions' especially, and he drank.
That was, until Bull realized the liquor on hand was some of the weakest shit compared to back home.
Still, it was a celebration, so he accepted drinks when offered, disgruntled by the fact that he was barely breaking a sweat over it.
Sobriety aside, he waited to speak with Halsin last, mostly because he wasn't quite sure what to make of him yet.
For one, he was big. Probably a little shorter than your average Qunari, but bigger than any elf Bull encountered in Thedas at least.
Secondly, he wielded magic different from most that Bull was familiar with, and the fact that majority of spellcasters in Faerûn didn't have to struggle against demons and possession in order to control their power...
Strange. Reassuring in a sense, but very strange.
When all was said and done, Bull figured no harm could come from getting to know the newcomer. This esteemed, knowledgeable "Archdruid" of theirs.
Who happened to be easy on the eyes —well, eye, singular— as well, but that was neither here nor there.
The Iron Bull sauntered up to him with a friendly smile, his head held high in a show of confidence.
"Well, it looks like I saved the best for last!" Bull greeted. "Settling in okay?" Before Halsin could answer, Bull interrupted. "Wait! Wait." He gave a dramatic pause. "I couldn't bear it if you said 'no.' Haha!"
He beamed at Halsin, who couldn't resist a snort of amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkled in delight.
Bull could practically hear Krem grumbling from there.
"Do not concern yourself with me. I am settling in just fine," Halsin assured him. "Of course, it always helps to have a host as gracious as yourself."
"Let's see if you still think that by the end of the night," the Iron Bull joked. He stood at Halsin's side, giving him a playful nudge with his elbow. "Seriously, though, that fight at that temple was great, yeah?" His heart raced at the memory. He leaned in, his voice low, appreciative. "You were incredible."
"Oh, come now," Halsin said, brushing off the compliment. "I don't know about that. You and your companions did most of the heavy lifting, after all."
"Don't downplay your role in our victory," Bull told him. "The sheer amount of goblins alone would have proved a challenge for anyone, but you cut through them like it was nothing." Try as he may, Bull couldn't help it, his eye trailing up and down Halsin's body. "All of that fury and rage, unleashed, directed at our enemies. You were a sight to behold, but tell the truth. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
Halsin glanced at him, not even bothering to hide how his eyes raked over his frame in return.
"Perhaps," he allowed, taking a second to clear his throat. "I must admit, I have come to expect at least a hint of fear from outsiders in response to my wild shape."
"Heh," Bull chuckled. "I fought dragons before, pal. It's gonna take more than a big teddy bear like you to scare me away."
"Is that so?" Halsin raised an eyebrow at him, surveying the area around them. "Maybe I should work on that then. Everyone should maintain a healthy balance of fear and respect for nature."
"Trust me, I respect it plenty," Bull said, "but by all means, do your worst."
Halsin shook his head, smiling to himself.
"Tempting as that is, you surely have others to go mingle with. Don't let me keep you."
"Nah." Bull waved off that concern without second thought. "I've done more than my fair share of mingling for tonight. I want to get to know you better."
He gave him a playful poke to the arm.
"Hmm..." Halsin hummed in contemplation. "I wouldn't want to be selfish and rob others here of your company. I can wait until morning to speak with you at the very least."
"Which is fine, if that's what you want," the Iron Bull whispered, "but what if I want you to be selfish?"
Halsin searched his expression for any sign of deceit.
When such scrutiny proved fruitless, his entire demeanor shifted, more open to the idea compared to before.
"In that case," he responded, "will you tell me about one of your dragon hunts then?"
"Fuck yeah, I will!" Bull exclaimed, his excitement radiant like a flame.
He clasped a hand onto Halsin's shoulder, giving it a warm, companionable squeeze.
A small shiver shot down his spine, one that Bull was quick to watch with keen interest.
The Iron Bull reckoned that Halsin didn't know many people who towered over him. It was almost funny how often his gaze would level with Bull's pecs or wander farther below before darting up to his face yet again, as if he had to constantly remind himself that he was the shorter one for once.
Then again, maybe he just liked the sight of his chest. Bull couldn't fault him for that.
"Let's see. Let's see," Bull said, rubbing at his chin while he thought it over. "I could go simple. The first dragon I ever hunted alongside the Inquisitor was terrorizing the countryside we were in at the time. It was a Fereldan Frostback."
Already, his eye was glazing over at the tale, his voice taking on a tinge of admiration that bordered on reverence. Or as close to it as he could get.
"Extremely territorial, those ones, and damn if she wasn't a beauty. All of that raw, untamed power, but unfortunately for her, her territory happened to include a few defenseless villages that couldn't ward her off on their own. That's where we came in."
He wrapped his arm around Halsin's shoulders, drawing him in closer as he spoke, staring off towards a faraway land that was well beyond their reach for now.
"That sharp burst of air that rushed past as she swiped her tail at us. That loud ringing in our ears when she screeched at the skies. That molten heat that radiated in the air when she snapped her teeth at us, so close that we would have been her next meal, had we not rolled out of reach in time."
He bared his teeth into a grin.
"That was a good day," he all but growled. "A good day, indeed!"
Halsin shifted in place. Of course, it didn't escape Bull's notice how he eased closer to him in the process.
He stared at the Iron Bull with a mixture of heat and shock.
"You almost sound excited," he said, hesitant, not wanting to overstep his bounds.
Not that it deterred Bull in the slightest.
"That's because I am," Bull stated, unashamed. "Even now, something about it gets my blood pumping and my heart racing, more so than any other fight." He grunted loudly as he lingered on the memory. "Maybe it's in my blood."
"Your blood?"
"Yeah," he said, "rumor has it that there might have been some dragon's blood mixed into the Qunari's somewhere along the way." He shrugged. "No one knows for certain. Would be pretty badass, though, wouldn't it?"
"Definitely."
"Okay, now it's your turn."
"My turn?" Halsin questioned.
"To share. Come on," Bull encouraged. "You can't tell me that you don't have some wild stories stashed away."
"Well," Halsin launched into his tale without missing a beat, "it's not too different from yours. Back in my youth—"
"Nuh-uh, none of that," Bull interrupted. "You're not that old."
"I'll have you know that I am three hundred and fifty years young."
"Hot."
Bull smirked when that got a laugh out of him.
"I can admire anyone who is so open with their desires," Halsin said, "but shall I continue the story?"
"Oh, alright, I'll behave."
"Somehow I doubt that," Halsin teased, "but as I was saying, I was young and impulsive at the time, traveling and exploring the world to my heart's content. After indulging in nature's gifts on land for so long, life led me to the sea. Throughout my journey, I heard about a string of pirate attacks, led by a rogue band of water genasi. Their greed had already impacted several coastal villages by the time I caught wind of it."
Bull made a mental note to ask more about the race later, too intent on listening to the current story to venture off on another tangent.
"People were being taken from their homes, everyone from their children to the elderly. Those who relied heavily on fish as a staple found themselves on the brink of starvation. Resources were being drained. Their valuables were looted. Any who fought against the genasi were executed or enslaved, made an example of."
"But you stopped them?"
"Eventually," Halsin sighed, it obviously taking a toll on him that he couldn't save more than what he did. "I studied their movements, their tactics. At first, I would rally others behind me, wait until the genasi tried for an ambush, and attack then. But there were still too many deaths for my liking, so I went on the offensive. The locals provided me with a vessel of my own, and I sailed out into the open waters. I took the fight to them, grew more and more cocky with each ship I took down. I believed myself to be invincible, and that made me reckless."
"What happened next?" Bull asked, although he already had an idea.
"You clearly survived, though."
"I was taken prisoner. One of my attacks went exactly as I planned, but I didn't know that the genasi had others lying in wait, holding back until they saw the perfect opportunity to strike. They outnumbered me, enough so that they were able to overpower me, and that was that."
"That, I did. With me as their trophy, the band that captured me left the coastland for quite some time. About a year and a half passed, give or take a few months, but I forced myself to be patient throughout that time of servitude, difficult as it was. I earned the trust of the crew. And later, the captain.
"Then one day, I felt it. There was something stirring in the water, restless, massive in size. I could sense it, and part of me knew that it was my time to act.
"I convinced the crew that there was treasure, worthy of the gods, in some nearby wreckage. I made up a lie, said I recalled the area from my studies, and they believed me."
"You led them right into a trap," Bull said, impressed.
Halsin nodded.
"It was a kraken's territory," he explained. "A sea monster of great power and might. It rose up from its dark depths to confront us. The waters turned rough and formed a large, gaping vortex that threatened to consume us all. The winds whipped at blinding speeds. Storms formed that spewed lightning everywhere you looked. The kraken even managed to charm some of the crew into fighting under its thrall, so you can imagine how everything turned into a bloodbath from there."
"Damn." Bull released a low whistle, recalling a few stories he heard of dreadnoughts encountering an aban-ataashi —a sea dragon— while out on their patrols.
He imagined this creature must have been similar to cause so much destruction.
"Nothing against you or your skills, but I'm surprised you survived."
"You and me both," Halsin agreed. "I was so weak that I couldn't switch forms all that much at the time, but I managed to rely on some basic spells to keep me safe long enough to escape. I fought alongside the crew for a while to discourage any suspicion, but I stole one of the ship's work boats the second it was clear that the crew and the kraken were going to go down destroying each other. Through the gods' mercy alone, I managed to make it out of there. I watched both ship and kraken sink into the sea from afar, and I somehow survived until I found land once again."
"Okay, now that story deserves a drink," Bull said. "Or several. Care to share one with me?"
"In truth, I rarely imbibe," Halsin answered. "The stuff goes right to my head."
The sounds of the party returned to them then. Voices rose and fell. Squeals of delight and the clink of tankards greeted their ears.
People danced and swayed, stumbling around without a care in the world.
"Wait, really?" Bull asked, incredulous. "You're telling me that you can't hold your liquor?"
Somehow, that was even more unbelievable than him fighting a kraken.
Halsin laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.
"All I'm saying is that it won't take long before I'm breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I lay eyes on."
"Well, I mean, if you need a target to focus that energy on..." Squeezing him up against his side, Bull flexed his free arm, waggling his eyebrows at him. "I'm your guy."
"A tempting offer, I'll admit," Halsin said, admiring him openly.
"Plus, I've also been known to break into song here and there."
"Now, that, I have to see."
"Find me something stronger than the swill they serve around here," Bull challenged, "and you're on."
"Ah." As understanding dawned on him, Halsin flashed Bull a secretive smirk. "You thought that I meant that I can't handle the spirits such as those at this party." At Bull's confused look, Halsin clarified. "I keep a, uh, personal flask on hand for special occasions."
"No shit," Bull said, watching him closely, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. "You have your own recipe or what?"
"Something like that, and I have my pipe on me too, if you're interested."
"Don't have to tell me twice. Let's go make a little music, yeah?"
Amused, Halsin readily agreed.
They didn't even try to hide it as they ditched the party in favor of the surrounding forests, neither of them the type to sneak about in such a manner anyways.
They spent the rest of the night in high spirits under the stars, drinking, smoking, trading stories. And yes, singing rather terribly as well.
They fell asleep bathed in moonlight, and only when the rising sun bid them to wake did they return to camp together to discuss their next move.
33 notes · View notes