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daisynik7 · 1 year

Note

hello it's me again not sure if it's alright to request one more (literally just ignore this if not) and its also not y2k but i'd like to request work song by hozier for nanami especially "no grave can hold my body down, i'd crawl home to her" angst with a happy ending during/post shibuya (no dying please) and reader is also a healer like shoko

thank you so much and congrats again 🫶🏼

Work Song

No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

cw: mentions of d*ath, bl*od, burn injuries, canon-divergent, set in the canon-universe during the Shibuya Incident Arc, MAJOR spoilers up to Shibuya Arc, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, happy ending

Summary: You’re a healer working with Shoko inside the medical tent at Shibuya Station while Nanami, your boyfriend, is in the line of fire for the battle ahead. After an especially life-threatening attack, Nanami, on the brink, runs into an old friend, who helps guide him back home.

Author’s Note: @75songs thank you so much for sending in another request for the y2k karaoke party, always appreciate your love and support! I ADORE this song and have honestly always thought it was perfect for Nanami. I am an anime only and am not caught up with season 2 yet, so I didn’t want to read too much into what exactly happens during this arc, so some of the details may be inaccurate, just a heads up. This one got me in my feelings. I will forever hold a grudge against Gege for what they did to Nanami. Anyways, likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading! Divider by @/saradika.

October 31st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, you and Nanami would be celebrating Halloween tonight, passing colorful candies and decadent chocolates to kids going door-to-door across the neighborhood. You’d force him to dress up in a silly costume, one that matches yours, despite his reluctance at first. Deep down, you know he likes this; domestic bliss, especially with you. The idea that the two of you could live a peaceful life together, away from the dangerous world of curses and Jujutsu sorcery. You discuss it constantly, dream about it, strive for it. A few more years, he says, and he’ll retire. There’s still more work to be done, people to be saved.

You’re inside the medical tent beside Shoko, helping her set up the cots, anticipating injured sorcerers to arrive soon with the battle underway. Masamichi Yaga, Jujutsu High’s principal, stands guard outside, determined to keep the medical team, especially Shoko, safe from any posing threats. There’s no way to know what’s happening until people start arriving, in need of medical attention. You’re a healer too, but not nearly as skilled as Shoko, your mentor. Still, she encourages you to join them tonight, needing all the help they can get.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, setting up the last bed. Observant as ever, she notices your quiet demeanor.

You nod, giving her a weak, unconvincing smile. “Yeah.”

“Nanami is going to be fine,” she assures you, sensing the root of your anxiety. “When this is all done, the two of you should take a vacation together.”

Relaxing a bit, you reply, “We already have our trip to Malaysia planned in a few months.”

She smiles kindly. “There you go. Something to look forward to.”

Her words ease some of the tension, but there’s dread settling in the pit of your stomach, and it won’t go away until you see Nanami again in one piece.

The waiting game finally ends as soon as the first wounded sorcerer shows up in the tent, initiating nonstop chaos. You assist Shoko diligently, making sure everything is prepared for her to perform her Reverse Cursed Technique for those who need it, and patching up those who don’t, with less severe injuries. You’re constantly on the lookout to see a familiar face, trying to get an update on what’s happening out there. None comes, until you see Kiyotaka Ijichi limping towards the entrance, blood spread across his shirt. You and Shoko rush towards him, carrying him over your shoulders, leading him to an empty cot, gently laying him down.

Shoko, showing panic on her face for the first time all night, inspects him carefully. “Ijichi, can you hear me?” She’s always had a soft spot for him, often telling you how endearing she finds him, always a nervous wreck in front of her. Seeing him like this is surely jarring, even for her, who’s as tough as nails.

He nods weakly, mumbling something incoherent, blood sputtering from his mouth. You remove the shattered glasses from his eyes, wiping his lips with gauze. Shoko starts to work on him, directing you to check on the other patients. Before you can follow orders, you feel his weak grip on your wrist. You turn to face him, focused on his lips as he quietly utters, “Nanami.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, leaning in closer to hear the rest of what he has to say, taking his time through labored breaths. “He…saved…me…”

You do your best to keep your composure, nodding at him silently, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. Unsure how to respond, you leave them, going to the other side of the tent to check on the remaining sorcerers.

With everyone else in stable condition, you take a minute outside the tent to sob into your hands, praying that Nanami is still alive. Unaware of your surroundings, you’re startled when Yaga approaches, his large figure sitting beside you. “You alright?”

You wipe away your sniffles on your sleeve. “Just…nervous.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sighing. “Yeah, I get it. But Nanami is one of our strongest sorcerers. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Again, more words of comfort, but not enough to ease the nervous flutter in your belly. Yaga recognizes this and adds, “Nanami would fight through the fires of hell instead of letting himself die. Not because he wants to live for himself. But because he wants to live for you.”

You face him now, processing his statement. He chuckles, lifting his sunglasses to meet your gaze. “That man has never been so smitten in his life. He’d crawl out his grave just to be with you, I guarantee it.”

~~~

The last thing Nanami remembers is desperately wishing he was in Malaysia with you instead of at Shibuya Station right now. He wakes up, sitting in one of the seats on the platform. It’s eerily quiet with no one in sight. The distinct sounds of trains on the rails or the hustle and bustle of people moving along is strangely absent, and it occurs to Nanami that this may be a dream.

He's sure of it when he feels a nudge to his side, turning to face Yu Haibara sitting next to him. There’s a warm smile on his boyish face, dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, exactly as he was many years ago when Nanami last saw him, alive and well. The same bright, earnest eyes he remembers vividly of his best friend. He swallows hard, an uneasy feeling surrounding him. Is he seeing a ghost? Or is this the afterlife?

Haibara laughs, and Nanami is snapped out of his reverie and taken immediately back to 2006, when he first met his friend during orientation. He can’t help but grin, happy to see him still so lively. “Well, aren’t you going to greet your old friend, Nanami?”

Nanami does, hugging him, astonished to feel him in his arms almost like a real person. Almost. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to visit you, that’s all.”

Nanami lets him go, studying him carefully, looking for any signs of decay. When he spots none, he asks him, “Am I dead?”

Haibara shakes his head. “Not quite. But you’re pretty damn close.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. So you better hurry and get home quick.” Haibara points towards the railings, now illuminated at one end by a blinding flash of light. “Yuji’s waiting for you.”

“Itadori? How do you know – “

Haibara then says your name with a big smile. “Yeah, I know her too. They’re all waiting for you, Nanami. You don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do you?”

It takes a while for Nanami to get up, and when he does, he’s off balance, legs wobbly, body unsteady. Haibara helps him, offering his shoulder, the two of them walking slowly towards the light. “I really like her, you know. Your girlfriend.”

“You do?” Nanami asks, hobbling beside him.

“Yeah. She’s really nice, really pretty, and she eats a lot, especially with you,” he chuckles. “You know how much I like that.”

“Yeah I do.”

“And I’m a good judge of character, so I think she’s perfect for you. If that means anything,” he says, proudly.

“It does. It means a lot.” They’re near the edge of the platform now and Nanami will have to hop down to reach the end of the tunnel.

“Are you going to marry her soon?” Haibara asks, pausing just before the edge.

Nanami nods, grinning. “I’m planning to propose during our vacation in Malaysia.”

“Good. Good.”

He’s tempted to stay longer, wanting a few more moments with his friend, but he knows that time is ticking. He hugs him again, squeezing him tight. “Take care, Haibara.”

“You too, Nanami. I’ll be looking out for you.”

His chest constricts, jumping off the platform, landing roughly on the railings, blinking away the tears in his eyes. It’s sweltering now, the light emitting an intense heat from within. He gives Haibara one last glance, cherishing the happy expression on his face as he waves goodbye to him before walking into the light.

Seconds later, Nanami wakes up with a gasp of breath, vision blurred, a droning pounding beating against his ear drums. It soon fades and only Yuji’s panicked voice yelling from behind him is heard. He’s being dragged by the armpits, away from the battle. Smoke radiates from his entire form, and he can barely move. In fact, he can barely feel anything at all.

They reach the medical tent, Itadori yelling for help the whole way. Yaga is the first to reach them, his usual calm demeanor wavering at the sight of Nanami, body half-burned from the explosion. They carrying him delicately inside, resting him on the only empty cot left. He wants to close his eyes; he’s so exhausted, and sleep is the only thing to bring him peace right now. That, or you.

As if his prayers were heard, you appear at his side, truly a vision, even while you sob for him, holding his mangled hand in yours, begging for him to stay with you. He can die happy now, seeing your face, knowing that you’re here, alive, heart beating, surviving. Can he do the same? Can he survive this? All he knows is that he’s trying with every fiber he has left in his being. He won’t leave you, not like this. Not without experiencing life on the outside with you.

It’s in this moment that he vows to endure. Even if he has to crawl out of his grave to do it, he’s determined to be with you again.

~~~

November 1st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, Nanami is gone. Not in this one, though. Instead, you sit beside him, healed and in one piece thanks to Shoko, fingers laced with his, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Yuji and Ino are at his other side, talking animatedly about how amazing Nanami was the entire fight, and all he can do is lay there, smiling. Happy to be alive. Happy to be with you.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen x reader #y2k karaoke event #milestone event

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terresdebrume · 26 days

Note

"I won't let them touch you" for your dead boy detective agency boys

Thanks for the prompt friend! :D Sorry it took so long, I was at work and then I got plagued with The Insecurities

This fits the possessive side of things slightly better than the dramatic one? Idk. I feel like I've failed to comply with the rules, even though I like the snippet x)

Anyway, thanks again, and if anyone else wants to send a prompt the list is right there

The sun beats down on the town square, bright enough to hide the outside world behind a veil of golden light and turn cousin Katherine's dress into a blinding beacon of virginal purity. Whatever one thinks of the concept, Edwin admits to himself, there is no denying that summer weddings occasionally provide such vivid image as to at least explain how it may have come to be. Nevertheless, he stays away. Of his three cousins, Katherine is the one he always felt the most kinship for, and he would not have missed this ceremony for the world, and yet--Edwin's knuckles brush together, gloveless skin shot through with electricity at the realization, and Edwin jolts his hands apart again. He tries to shove them into his pockets, only to pull them out once more when he remembers not to break the lines of his navy suit. Trying to settle them at his side proves no more fruitfull: the pose feels unnatural and constrictive, as if his hands were pulling against some kind of invisible tie.

"Here," Charles says, stepping between Edwin and the aisle, the lean line of him neatly obscuring the sight of Edwin's hands. "Have at it for a minute, yeah?"

It takes a moment for Edwin to understand, and when he does hit throat immediately constricts with emotion. They have never truly talked about this quirk of Edwin's. Not in the way they perhaps should have, at any rate. It is largely Edwin's fault: for all that he has learned to pursue his interests more openly and unashamedly, there are some areas of his life he has yet to dare confront. Cut and dry is all well and good, but even he can be made to appreciate the value of ambiguity. And so: they haven't talked about it. The way Edwin's fists knead against one another without thought whenever he feels tense, the way he rarely wears less than three layers of clothing if he can help it. The way busy weeks at work make him come home impatient to shed them, the very contact of cloth against his skin so intense as to feel like pain. The way loud noises make him want to stick a pencil in his ears, sometimes.

They haven't talked about it, but Charles took note anyway, and never once expected Edwin to change. Edwin, almost overcome with gratitude, lets out a long, quiet sigh of relief, and leans forward until his forehead can rest against the back of Charles' neck.

"It's no use, you know," he sighs, murmuring to ensure his voice won't be carried out to where his paternal grandmother is slowly walking towards the door. "The minute they see--"

He does not stop himself from pressing his fists together this time. Doesn't try to ignore the tightness of his shoulder, or the beating of his heart--and because he doesn't try to pretend they aren't here, they grow smaller. More manageable, in a way, than they ever were when he was alone. Without quite meaning to, Edwin smiles down at the back of Charles' suit, red in a sea of greys and blues. Here, hidden behind Charles, Edwin knows no one will try to pull his hands apart.

"You don't worry about them," Charles says, quiet but firm. "I won't let them touch you."

Charles once slapped Edwin's father's hands in the middle of dinner at the Ritz, all for the crime of trying to stop Edwin from mashing his fists together. Edwin belives his latest proclamation immediately, and without reservation. Still:

"You cannot fight my entire family," he says, just for the pleasure of hearing Charles put on his cocky voice and retort:

"Just you watch. First one to look a little too close gets whooped on their bum."

Edwin, despite himself, finds himself chuckling, straightening up until he can look at Charles properly. The light from outside lines the edge of his cheek in golden light the hoop in his ear as bright as a halo. He is a flame in the darkness of the church, bright and warm as a fire in the hearth. Edwin, born and raised in the icy cold of a winter lake, can never get enough.

"Surely," he says, "you don't meant Granny Gladys."

"Especially Granny Gladys," Charles retorts. "I'm not gonna turn my back and let her get me with her rollator."

Edwin, with some difficulty, bites down on a burst of laughter. In front of him, Charles turns his head just far enough to flash a wicked grin, sharp and shameless in a way that makes Edwin's stomach expand into the warmest of feelings. Charles must see something in his face then, because he turns serious, hands coming up to frame Edwin's face as he looks into his eyes and says:

"I'm serious you know. If your father tries to slap your hands again, I really will send him down on his arse."

"I believe you", Edwin says, insides turning embarrassingly gooey at the fierceness of Charles' tone.

"Good," Charles says, still frowning in intensity. "There's nothing wrong with you. There's nothing wrong with your hands. I know I haven't been where I should have been--"

"Charles," Edwin interrupts, heart picking up speed with the alacrity of a racing car, "you don't--"

"No, listen to me," Charles insists, hands pulling gently at the sides of Edwin's face until their foreheads touch, "no more hand slaps. No more eye contact. I couldn't be with you these past seven years, and I'm sorry--but I'm here, now, and I don't care what anyone in your family says, as far as I'm concerned, unless you want to, you don't have to look anyone in the eye ever again."

Edwin stares, half feeling like he is about to liquefy. He feels so, so warm here in the coolness of that church, warm like the sun in spring after a long winter. Warm like a nice sweater on a winter evening. Warm like Charles' smile, like the way he only ever takes Edwin's hand in his with love, like the way the only thing he ever did with Edwin's fist was wrap his hands around them like a shield. Edwin stares, and swallows hard, and catches Charles into a crushing hug before he can do something absolutely daft like kiss him right here, where all his family could see.

#Dead Boy Detectives #Payneland #Charles Rowland #Edwin Payne #Implied ableism #Matt writes #s: I'm down on my knees #10n #30n #40n #dbda fic #50n #60n #80n

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 3 months

Text

Night in New Orleans

Normally the men Y/N is in charge of managing are the ones getting in trouble, not the other way arround. This time, while shooting in Louisiana for the second movie, it’s a bit of both.

Johnny Knoxville X Gn!Reader, Bam Margera X Gn!Reader (if you squint)

(Fluff)

5.7k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, crude language, heavy nudity, alcohol, drug use, fights, blood, hurt/comfort, flirting, stripping, fighting

An: Another manager Y/N fic!! I can’t seem to get away from this premise for the life of me! XD they’re just so fun to write for!! Also as proof of how much research goes into these fics, every location mentioned in this fic is entirely real and on Bourbon Street! I had an ex that went to New Orleans but I’ve never been there myself, so I could only hope it’s as wild as I immagine it to be! Also, this fic takes place ~2006 during the filming of Jackass Number Two because they filmed a good chunk of that movie in Louisiana! Anyways,thank you for sending in requests and please keep sending them!

Backroads seemed to stretch on forever as you ranted to Jeff on the phone, “MTV is not paying me enough for this shit! I mean, it's bad enough I gotta spend every day with idiots, now I’m the one who’s gotta find them when they run off?” The dusty road ahead of you was solely illuminated by the one working headlight on the van as you drove through the darkness, your only source of direction being the man you were on the phone with, “It's not my fault they decided to run off to some ranch in the middle of Nowhere, Louisiana!” You rolled your eyes, leaning forward against the wheel to try and see ahead as he sighed, “Listen, we gotta shoot in the morning so just get them back to the hotel. Manage the talent!” Click.

Fuckin Jeff, making you go out in the middle of the night in the stupid van that was bumbling allong on its last legs- you didn’t even want to immagine what went down in it based on how it smelled. The whole ‘manage the talent’ thing became almost a motto for when shit turned sour but calling them talent was an overstatement. This is what chauffeurs- better yet, the town dog catcher is for, not managers. Thanks to his amazing directions, you ended up at a ranch, sure, but it seemed practically deserted as you pulled up into the dirt parking lot. Squinting into the darkness, you could barely make out the carved writing on the wooden sign that hung over the front gate that read, ‘New-D Ranch’, whatever that meant. You waited for a few minutes, trying to catch a breeze from the one working AC vent while wondering why the hell you hadn’t quit already to find a job somewhere a little more sane before you heard the swish of the doors behind you opening.

You knew it was Johnny who called shotgun when you heard the slight twang in his grumble as he slid in the passenger seat, “Christ, for a nudist ranch you’d think there’d be more chicks…” Blinking, you turned to him, looking him up and down. Shoulders, chest, thighs- oh god he was naked. Well, naked save for those stupid sunglasses he never seemed to take off. The guys chattered amongst themselves in the back seat as you whipped your head around- yeah, them too. Knoxville must have seen how big your eyes got or the blush that spread across your cheeks, and judging by the way he chuckled a little and let his knees drift apart as he settled down in his seat, he didn’t seem to mind. Pervert. It’s not like you could help it that he was so shameless and all blue and glowy from the way the moon kissed his skin. Finally, you got your words out, yanking the van into gear as you peeled out, “Why are you all naked?”

Admittedly, you were speeding a little down the desolate road while Chris and Steve filled you in on how they heard about this totally rad nudie ranch from this guy at the hotel bar and were down to get with some really hot chicks that night, but all they found there were dudes and farm animals. Every now and then you would sneak a glance over at Johnny who was still wearing that shit eating grin he always had when he knew he was pushing your buttons. You didn’t want to debate yourself if this whole thing was turning you on or pissing you off, but you didn’t have a whole lot of time to consider it as you saw those flashing red and blue lights in your rear view mirror. Shit.

What a perfect time to get pulled over. Veering the car off to the gravelly shoulder, you did the routine. Yes officer. No, I don’t know why I got pulled over. My license? Oh sure! Right here, officer! He flashed that stupid little flashlight inside the car and audibly gasped as he gawked at the proud exhibitionists- that is, all except Bam, who was redder than a tomato and practically squirming in his seat as he desperately tried to cover up his junk. You could tell Officer Friendly got a little uncomfortable with the way Chris suggestively raised his eyebrows at him from the way he stuttered as he continued his police spiel, “May I ask why you are out at this hour with a- a van full of nude men?” Thinking for a moment, you tried to come up with a worthwhile excuse, “Well, I, uh- these are my brothers, officer, and they had a little too much to drink tonight, so they called me to pick them up from the bar!” Making eye contact across the center counsel, Johnny nodded with a very clear tone of amusement in his voice, “Yeah, brothers.” The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

All the cop could do was awkwardly ask for your license and go back to his car, leaving you alone in the oppressive humidity and near silence as crickets chirped faintly. Turning around, about to deliver the lecture of a lifetime, you noticed Steve eerily uiet and nevrous, of all things. Looking up at you from his nails that he was biting to the nub, there was a trace of panic in Steve’s eyes as he started, not even waiting for you to ask what was wrong, “I’m fuckin’ naked and I gotta warrant, man! I-I can’t go t’jail- not like this…” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics- really it wouldn’t surprise you if they all had warrants based on the shit you had to get them out of. As he stood up a little to get a better view out the front window, he anxiously bounced his leg, murmuring to himself, “Fuck, man. That’s it. I-I’m gonna make a run for it.” Your eyes shot open and you pushed him back into his seat. If there was anything you didn’t need tonight, it was a naked man under your care on the loose, so you shut that down fast, “Steve! Stay!”

When the cop returned, the guys turned to look in completely different directions so as to not appear suspicious as you got the news that everything seemed fine with your license. He let you off with a warning and a shake of his head, muttering something about you taking your brothers home to sober up and getting some damn clothes on them while you were at it. Yes, officer. Thank you, have a nice night, officer. As you started back to the hotel, Chris, who was previously distracted by looking at fireflies out the window, noticed something, “Woah, dude. What’s wrong?” Glancing in your rear view mirror as you pulled away, you saw Bam, in between Steve and Chris, white as a ghost with sweat just pouring down his face. Running a hand through his soaked curls, he shook his head, “Shit, dude! I was worried- like, I-I’m small and cute! And naked!” Johnny turned to face him and piped up, “And famous.” Bam disregarded any traces of sarcasm as he turned to you, “And famous! I’d get the shit kicked out of me, dude!” With how cool these guys were normally, the way they freaked out when a cop showed up surprised you.

By some miracle you made it to the hotel, a motel, if you were being honest, in the middle of bourbon street. The place was the definition of a shithole, but you’d stayed in worse and it was better than sleeping in the van so you made do with the used condoms under the bed and roaches in the bathroom because if they could survive this, so could you. Not wanting to leave the guys unsupervised for too long, you decided that your best bet at getting the guys from the car to the room would have to be something in the near vicinity, and while scanning the parking lot, you got an idea so good it made you want to ask for a raise. An assured grin crossed your face, ”I’ll be back.” Just as you were halfway out the door you heard Bam protest with an exhausted sigh, “Fuck it! I’m going with you.” He climbed over Chris to open the door, putting his hands up as he got over his previously held shyness at being nude in front of others, “I’ve been sittin’ between two naked dudes and I gotta get the fuck outta here.” Stopping just before an indecent exposure charge, he held his hand out to you, “Gimme your jacket.”

Begrudgingly handing over your hoodie to Bam, he casually tied it around his waist backwards to cover his crotch loincloth-style as you made a mental note to wash it before you wore it next time it got chilly. Decent enough, you thought, shaking your head as you walked towards the shitty hotel pool that glowed teal in the night. You tried to pretend he wasn’t there as he followed on your heels through the parking lot and through the metal gates that fenced the pool in. As you nearly dove into the big plastic green thing that housed the neatly folded towels, you heard Johnny wolf whistle from the van. Initially assuming that it was directed towards you, you flipped up, clutching an armful of fluffy white fabric, but before you could shout something back you very quickly noticed that Bam’s pale little ass was just completely out. Goddamn it. As you handed out the towels, he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest when Chris chuckled and said something about hating to see Bam go but loving to watch him leave.

Making sure to stay behind the group like a Border Collie to a herd of sheep, you marched the idiots through the lobby who were miraculously dry despite allegedly having come from the pool. As celebrities go, they didn’t attract as much attention as you would have otherwise expected, but that didn’t stop a few drunken women splayed out in the wide, red silk upholstered chairs in the lobby from loudly propositioning them. Steve threw up a ‘call me’ gesture and Bam dragged his feet, whining something about you never letting them have any fun as you nudged them along. You were so exhausted that you didn’t even bat an eye when Chris ‘accidentally’ dropped his towel and glanced back at you with a finger over his lips like one of those pin up girls. Humorously snatching the towel off of the ground, you shoved it into his arms as you all crowded into the tiny, rickety elevator that was surely over it”s weight limit. How strange it must have looked from an outsider’s perspective- you and four nearly naked men, all packed shoulder to shoulder into that tiny space. But you were too tired to care about any of that, leaning your forehead against the wall with a thump as the doors closed.

You were the one Jeff gave the keys to because you were the only one deemed responsible enough, so you tossed them to Bam as he passed you in the hall, but while the others were stumbling in and tossing off their towels, Johnny lingered in the hall as you went to unlock your room. The hallway was only maybe wide enough for you to stand on one side and stretch your arm out to touch the other side, so you really had to look up to talk to him, “Where’re you going?” Holding his towel up far too low with one hand, Johnny shrugged, leaning against the wall opposite to you, “M’goin t’our room.” Most people, if they were in your shoes, staring up maybe six inches away from this ruggedly handsome, partially nude man, would fold like a house of cards, but you were not most people, so you kept your composure. Shrugging, you unlocked your room. “No, this is my room.” The dryness of your words contracted with the playful tone in his voice, “You sure ‘bout that?” Tossing your keys into the bed, you turned to him flatly, “Yep!” Johnny shrugged, turning to leave before dropping his towel. He cackled that signature Knoxville laugh, picking it up only after he heard you snicker from your doorway.

After sending the kids off to daycare, you finally got a moment to yourself. Your day was mostly spent lounging about your room, trying to savor the peace and quiet however short lived it may be. But it came to a stop all too soon when your hotel room phone started ringing- it was Bam, who was apparently too lazy to just go next door and knock. He mumbled over the line, sounding a little embarrassed to ask you, “We wanna go out, n’Jeff says we can’t without you.” This premise never ends well. Hearing your sigh, he turned defensive, “Hey! We just wanna go get some food, okay? That’s it! Jeez…” In the background, you could hear Johnny say something about how the boys were starvin’ over there. “Okay, fine!” You relented after hesitating for a moment, “As long as it's just for food.”

The group walked through a blur of light and sound, dazzling neon signs flanking either side of the street: Bourbon Gifts Cigar Shop, Tropical Isle- Home of the Hand Grenade, signs advertising $5 Jager Bombs, but no restaurants. The guys seemed to have completely forgotten about looking for dinner, more concerned with what trouble they could get into than feeding themselves. “C’mon, Bam! I know this kickass voodoo lady that lives ‘round here- she’ll totally get us footage!” Steve’s excitement was met with a shudder, “No fuckin way, man. Like I wanna get hit by brooms’n play with snakes ‘n shit.” Maybe the fact that Johnny was holding the portable video camera from the hotel room should’ve tipped you off that they may not have been on the prowl for food. He chuckled, turning to Steve, “She sounds sweet. Think’y could get me her number?”

So far you had done a pretty good job at keeping the guys together, even if you had to grab their hands and tug them through the crowds like you were their mother when you caught them rubbernecking to peep into whatever strip club you were walking past. Suddenly, you saw Chris dart away from the pack. You weren't sure if it was the Penthouse Club, the Kama Sutra Cabaret, or Lary Flynt’s Hustler Club that he b-lined it into, but just as soon as he did, the rest of the guys followed quickly behind, leaving you stranded. Knowing how much shit you would get into if you lost one of them or god forbid someone got arrested, you went after them.

Given your line of work, you would’ve thought that, by this point, you would have gotten a little more familiar with the inside of one of these places, but nope. This place was on some real Girls, Girls, Girls shit, like the image of a strip club- mirror poles, velvet tablecloths, and women wearing barely more than a smile and nine inch heels. Averting your eyes from the ladies onstage, you let out a sigh of relief when you spotted Knoxville sitting at the bar. Hopping up onto the tall red vinyl stool next to him, you let out a sigh of relief as Johnny glanced over to you and let out a chuckle, taking a sip of his beer before reassuring you like he could read your concerns without you having to open your mouth, “If you’re lookin’ for the fellas, they’re out on the floor. S’not like they’re goin’ far”

Rolling your eyes, you kept your head low as you scouted the place out. “I thought we were gettin’ dinner.” This was not the kind of place you wanted to be found in, and you bet Johnny could tell from how entertained he seemed at your discomfort, looking you up and down, “Well, for these guys, this is dinner.” You couldn’t deny, you actually were kinda hungry, distracting yourself by eyeing the initials that were keyed into the countertop, “I don’t even think they have food here…” Knoxville nudged a glass bowl of peanuts sitting on the bar top toward you with a smirk. “Here,” He grabbed one himself, crushing the shell in his hand before tossing one in his mouth with a smirk, “Lemme buy you dinner.” Taking one from the bowl yourself, you scoffed, a smile ghosting over your face as you murmured, “Oh, you’re quite the gentleman, Knoxville. Strip joint and peanuts.” Laughing, he relented to you, “Alright, how about I make it up to you with a nice dinner sometime- one good dinner? I owe you.” Wait, was he asking you on a date? Before you could consider maybe taking him up on that offer, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Hey, hey- Y/N!”

Turning around, you weren’t sure if you were annoyed or relieved to see Bam standing behind you, holding out a fifty, “Y’got any singles?” It was like a kid asking his mom for money to go to the movies. Johnny shrugged, turning to you to remark, “I mean, at least he’s tippin’ the ladies. Not like Steve-O over there.” He jabbed a thumb at the corner where Steve sat, a herd of women clustered around him. Sure, Steve never tipped, but every time you saw him at the club, he was never drooling over the strippers. Instead, he would be sitting over in the corner, just chatting up the ladies while they were on their break. Strangely enough, they always seemed to be more than eager to hang out with him, waving and blowing him kisses as they headed back onstage. It bewildered you, but it was kinda sweet in a weird way. “Wha- no! I don’t have any singles!” Bam shrugged at your reaction, turning to walk away, “Ah, I’m sure I can get some at the bar. Thanks though!”

The question you were about to ask Johnny, about where Chris was at, was answered before you could ask it. Just as Bam ran up to the edge of the stage with a handful of singles, excited to see some T and A, you could see his face just fall as he muttered to himself at the sight in front of him, “This is so fucked up….” You yourself stared slack jawed as Johnny snickered at the sight of Party Boy himself strutting out onto the stage wearing nothing but his silver mankini while the beginning riff of one of those cock rock strip club songs started up. Not one to miss this kind of thing for the world, Knoxville whipped out the camera to capture the wide eyed shock in Bam’s eyes that turned to disgust when Chris started his little routine, eyeing the fat stack of ones in his hand. He kept inching closer and closer to the edge of the stage- specifically, closer to Bam. Getting down on his knees, Chris wasn’t shy in the slightest about shaking what he had (which he had quite a great deal of), barely inches from his face. Even you couldn’t deny that he was pretty damn good up there, and it seemed that Johnny agreed as he got up to toss a couple singles up there with a whistle. As the song reached a crescendo, everything seemed to reach a fever pitch and Bam hurriedly shoved the bills in his arms onto the stage, unable to stand it any longer, “Just take my money- and get your junk outa my face!” Pontius smirked, tucking the cash in the strap of his mankini with a wink. He whispers something you couldn’t quite hear, but you assumed was some sort of flirty comment from the way Bam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You know, this is how I wanna spend my night.” Johnny turned to you as you tried to speak up over the music, “Watching Chris strip.” He chuckled, leaning back on the sticky bar, drink in hand. “Yeah, me too.” The incandescent lights of the club looked so pretty in the reflection of Johnny’s glasses that you hardly noticed when Bam ran back to the bar in the stupid little way he ran everywhere, as Candy or Trixie or whoever was strutting out onstage. He just happened to cross paths with Chris, walking off the stage and flipping through all fifty two dollars he got. Bam stopped him in his tracks with a hand on his baby oil covered chest, “Dude. Gimme my money back.” Chris just gave him that stoner laugh and shook his head, “No way! I earned this. How about you go up there and shake your little moneymaker?” Bam turned a little red and debated arguing or just getting more money. Looking back up at the stage, he gave in, more concerned with what article of clothing the girl on stage was shedding than his own money.

But just a few moments later, it was him who was getting physically tossed out onto the sidewalk, landing on his ass. All you saw was this little dark blur getting hoisted up by this bouncer twice it’s size and going flying out the doors. Of course, all the guys followed behind, laughing as he stumbled to his feet. “Rookie mistake, man.” Steve joked, his hands in his pockets as a curious few of the ladies peered out the door after him. You should’ve known that of all people it would be Bam who got a little too handsy with the girls. Nobody on the street even stared at the spectacle as you fled outside after them. “Okay, that’s it- let’s just call it a night.” The guys collectively groaned about you being a killjoy and begged for just one more stop at another bar for a nightcap as you threw your hands up in the air, not easily swayed, “C’mon, it’s a sign. Let’s just get you all back to the hotel…”

You got them safely tucked away in their room for the night, but of course the chaos didn’t cease. Maybe an hour passed after you collapsed onto your mattress with the lights off, trying to get a few hours of shuteye before you had to deal with them in the morning when the shouting started. Chalking it up to some couple having a marital dispute next door, you brushed it off until you realized which room it was coming from. Oh. Oh no. Clambering to your feet, you jumped at the telltale sound of an appliance shattering against a wall and tried to run the numbers of how much that’d cost to cover as you scrambled out the door. Hoping it was just a coffee maker or something and not a repeat of the time Bam hurled an entire Zenith television out of a plate glass door, you barged in the room.

Now, you didn’t know what the argument was initially about, but you got the gist of it as Steve’s elbow made contact with your mouth, slamming into you. Everything froze. Just your luck to get caught in the crossfire of one of his drug induced fits. Bam, who was on the other side of the room, was completely shirtless, as was Steve, but significantly more all together mentally and seeming to be on the other side of whatever conflict was happening. Running your tongue over your teeth, you confirmed that none of them were missing, but that wet iron taste lingered on your lips. “Holy shit…” This quickly sobered Steve up, whose voice was barely a whisper as he watched the blood that got Jackson Pollocked all over your face drip down your chin and neck. That was one way to break up a fight.

Blood trickled down the drain as you held yourself over the bathroom sink in the guys’ room, blinking away the tears that swelled in your eyes. Everyone cries when they get hit in the nose- it’s probably a reflex or something, you thought, not that it hurt that bad. Glancing up to the mirror, you caught sight of someone standing in the doorway- Knoxville, holding this ice pack he fashioned out of a towel full of ice from the hall. It seemed that your waterworks had really gotten his attention, judging from the concerned tone in his voice, “Y’alright?” Taking it from him, you gently pressed it to your face, wincing at the cold sting. “M’fine.” He smirked but the tone of his voice was still present as he sat down on the lid of the toilet seat next to you, “You sure?” Johnny waved you closer, gesturing for you to lean down towards him. You did, and he reached out to gently grasp your chin, “Lemme see…well, that might leave a mark.” It was an oddly intimate moment, feeling his noticeably larger hand on top of yours as he went to move the ice pack. Leaning it to get a better look at your face, Johnny smiled just barely, “I think you’re gonna be alright.”

With the way the guys treated you the next day, you would’ve thought you were the queen of England. When you woke them up the next day, they didn’t whine or complain in the slightest, instead obediently getting out of bed and starting to get ready, avoiding your gaze. You felt like the headmaster at some British private school for undisciplined boys. As you stood idly in the doorway, perplexed at their sudden shift in behavior, you noticed something- Knoxville was MIA, and it seemed that nobody cared or was willing to say anything to you. Dipping your head in the door, you scanned the room, “Does anyone know where-“

Jumping a little, you caught your breath after the initial surprise when you realized it was Johnny who was standing next to you out in the hallway, maybe six inches away. He smirked at how easily he startled you and wordlessly handed you one of the two complementary breakfast coffees he had in his hands. Look at Mr. Suave-Cool, coming in with the apology drinks. Still, you weren't going to say no. Taking a sip and pondering how he could be the constant center of attention and, at the same time, so damn sneaky, you didn’t even notice when Bam sprang up from his bed, scampering to lean against the doorframe behind you. While all of the guys were quietly doing it already, Bam seemed the most eager to grovel, not even waiting for you to turn towards him before he started fawning with uncharacteristic earnestness, “Hey, I just wanna tell you I am so sorry about last night- I mean, it was totally Steve’s fault, but I feel so bad!” Immediately, you turned to Bam and looked him up and down, as did Johnny, who snickered at the fact that he was standing there without a care in the world, totally naked. At this point in the trip you were so desensitized to the male nudity that you didn’t even say anything. From behind him in the room Steve, who had his shirt halfway over his head, was clearly over his faux niceness by the way barked at Bam, “Oh, fuck you man!” But when you made eye contact with him, his ego shrank up like he just got into a cold pool as his voice dropped a decibel, “I-I mean, you looked pretty rad with all the blood and stuff...” Chris, who was totally unbothered by all of this, just smiled at you as earnest as ever, “Yeah! The blood was totally sexy, dude!”

“Is there anything I can do to make it up?” Bam looked at you with this eager to please look on his face, and you weren't one to pass up this opportunity. You thought that hell would freeze over before any of these guys would ask to do something nice for you. “Well…if you really want, you could grab me a danish from down front.” He started off before he glanced down and noticed the obvious. Quickly running back into the room to tug on a pair of jeans- no underwear, Bam slipped past you and ran down the hall in that same stupid way he did at the strip club.

While the guys were out for the day, you shot a call over to Ed the Medic, who was, as his name implied, an on set medic (if you could call him that) who they only really kept around because he really liked giving people pills, so this was maybe the first time anyone called him for a legitimate injury. He was nonetheless happy to pawn them off onto you. While you debated whether or not you should take them, the throbbing pain in the middle of your face failed to cease, so you gave in, throwing them back and hoping the high would wear off before the guys got back and you made a fool of yourself the same way they did with you.

For the first time that trip, nobody wanted to go out that night, not after the day they just had. Drenched in sweat from the hot Louisiana sun with sore muscles from a day of stunts, all anybody wanted to do was maybe have a beer and crash for the night. Nobody was more exhausted than Bam, who arguably had the worst day out of any of them. From getting locked in a trailer with snakes and racking his nuts to having to eat and by extension throw up a piece of cowshit- not even Johnny asking to take a gander at his sprained dick could bring any humor to the situation. So as soon as they got into the room they all fell onto beds or chairs or whatever they could find, content to call it a night before six. That is, until you came knocking on the door.

“Heyyy!!” Stumbling into the room, you were all giggles as you bumped into Johnny who had opened the door. He looked down at your purple, swollen face confusedly as you slurred your words, “Didn’t you guys wanna go out…? C’mon, let’s go. I wanna party!” Turning back to the other guys, they all reflected the same bewildered expression as his- never once had you ever expressed interest at partying, or at least their idea of partying. However, though he had arguably had the roughest day out of all of them, Bam’s mood shifted at your sudden change of opinion, getting up from his place on the bed with a grin and putting a paintball-scarred hand on Johnny’s shoulder, “Alright, you heard ‘em! Let’s party.”

The streets were nearly empty as you and the guys walked them. Hell, you didn’t even know you were on Bourbon street until you saw the street sign on the corner as you left the hotel, “Wait, this is that Marti gras place, right?” Johnny nodded as he walked close to you, making sure you didn’t run off or hurt yourself doing something stupid. He clearly wasn't doing a very good job at it, made apparent when you tugged your shirt up to your neck, squealing, “Oh! I’m gonna get some beads!” Imitating women who flashed for plastic at those parades, it seemingly didn’t occur to you that not only were you about three months late to the whole Marti gras thing, but you were doing it to nobody in particular. Johnny noticed, his eyes going a little wide as he grabbed the sides of your shirt, quickly but gently pulling it back down, “Woah, woah- Y/N,” There was this almost protective tone in his voice as he talked to you the way you usually talked to him when he had a few too many that night, “If you wait right here, I can get you some beads, okay? Just- just stay in this one spot.”

He returned shortly after with a handful of multi-colored strands of plastic beads, brilliant iridescent purple and greens under the gas lamps that lined the sidewalks. Your eyes sparkled, “Woah…you got these for me…?” Johnny nodded. Maybe instead of getting them from a float like you assumed he had ran into a gift shop and hastily bought the first bulk bag of necklaces he could find, but he wasn’t technically lying. As you happily pulled them over you head, Bam elbowed you in the side, raising his eyebrows as he leaned in with a grin, “I could get you some beads if you flash those titties again.” Before you could comply, which you would’ve been more than happy to do, Johnny put an arm between the two of you, pushing you apart. What a killjoy! Still, he gave you a good explanation, “You don’t need any’a Bam’s junky beads cause I got you the good ones- the fancy kind.” Looking down at the beads in your hand again, you weren't sure what made them so fancy as they just looked like any old beads to you, but you trusted him. “Besides” Johnny brushed Bam’s hand off of your shoulder, “Why don’t I take you out on that dinner I was talkin’ about?”

You spent half of the meal gushing to the guys about your shiny new beads you got, somewhat less high but far from sober. Chris and Steve found your predicament absolutely hilarious, sitting on either side of you with giddy smiles at their uptight manager who was finally getting in on the fun. The lot of you ate your dinner in that sleepy little twenty four hour cafe a block from your hotel (about as far as you had gotten) and afterwards Johnny took you back to the hotel and up to your room with an arm around your shoulders, preventing any further mishaps. Dragging your feet, you collapsed onto your bed in your jeans. He gently removed your shoes and tucked you in before quietly leaving to go back to his own room next door. If there was going to be another time you ever ended up high, he would be the man you would want to babysit you. Tomorrow would be the last day of shooting in New Orleans, and you would be mortified at the stories of your behavior, but for that moment that night everything was just perfect.

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #chris pontius #steve o #fluff #ryan dunn #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #johnny knoxville x reader #if anyone is currious the song I imagined for the club scene while I was writing it was Mother by Danzig <3

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

Headcanons to dabbles!! 😍 (girl I'mma try to keep this short bc every time I look back at these asks I'm like "omg Nym stop typing so much" LOL)

We've talked about this before but basically- Bachira has big ler energy and usually isn't afraid to act on it, buuuuut even he gets a little insecure sometimes and worries he's doing it too much. When he does Isagi is always there to pick him back up and/or scope out how the others are feeling for him. Lee!Bachira may or may not ensue? Either that or ler!Bachira surfaces again! Up to you! 👀

Drink water and stay cool and keep being amazing friend! 💖💖💖

*happy bachisagi noises* AHHH! NYM! I love this holy- *explodes in happiness for Bachira* Girl this is such a perfect headcanon- thank you for giving me the chance to write it! :D (I threw in some Lee!bachira towards the end and the nicknames we discussed hehe)

“Ahehahahahaha! Ohoohhokay ohohohokay, I’m gooohhohood!” Isagi cried, flopping forward in a fit of laughter. He gasped for air, arms around his sides as he slowly composed himself. “Whohoohhow…yohohou gohohot me gohohohod, thehehere.”

“Hehe, yeah!” Bachira was smiling, but there was something in his voice that made Isagi pause. The usual joy he always heard sounded…soft. Dimmed.

“Heh..hehe…he-hey..are you okay?” Isagi sat up, lowering his voice to not bring attention to them. Well- at least not anymore. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Bachira blinked, wide eyed. Then he was smiling- the expression painfully fake. “I’m fine, Isagi! Don’t worry about it.”

“Well…alright.” Isagi nodded, dropping the subject for now.

Still- he couldn’t get the sight of Bachira’s shoulders drooping when he left for water.

~~~

He waited until it was just the two of them before bringing it back up.

“You looked sad earlier today. What’s going on, Bachira?” He asked after they ran some drills. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Huh? No- no, not at all!” The dribbler was quick to reassure him, shooting up from his stretch. “You didn’t do anything, I just-” He snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.

“You’re just..?” Isagi gently prompted. “Please, Bachira- You can talk to me. I want to be there for you. If there’s something wrong, I want to help if I can. Or at the very least, be someone you’re comfortable enough to talk to about it.”

Bachira bit his lip, hesitant. Then he nodded, giving in.

“Do I…overdue it? The tickling thing.” He asked, something shy and nervous in his tone. “I know I tend to tickle you and the guys a lot- but I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I’m worried you guys might just be tolerating it for my sake.” The last part came out a bit fast- like he was forcing it out. Isagi let it all sink in.

“Hey.” He took Bachira’ hand, squeezing it softly and meeting his eye. “You don’t have to worry about that- not with me, anyway. I…like it, when you erm…tickle me.” He blushed, trying not to look away. “It makes me happy. I like it when you're playful. And you always back off if I’m not in the mood or reached my limit, and I appreciate that.

“I can’t speak for the guys, but if you want- I’ll do a room check later and see how everyone’s feeling. I’m sure in their own ways, they all feel the same, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll gladly do so.” He nodded, setting his conviction. “Would you be okay with that?”

Bachira was staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He nodded soon after, lips trembling as he pulled them into a wet smile. “Yeah..thanks, Isagi.”

“Yeah- I’m cool like that.” The brunette smiled, leaning in for a quick peck. “Now, since we’re on the topic…”

“Huh? Oh-Eheheahhahahaha!” Bachira was already laughing as the other boy pushed him over, scribbling gently into his sides. “Iihihihihisahahahhagihiihihi!”

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, but right now- I wanna see my bumblebee smiling!” Isagi cooed, pressing their foreheads together as he carried on tickling his boyfriend, relishing his precious laughter.

Send me a headcanon and I'll write a 300-500 word dabble for it!

#Puffs #Headcanons to dabbles #tickle #tickle dabble #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #bachisagi #light angst mostly comfort with some tickles towards the end #I just love these boys so much AHH!

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striderl · 1 month

Note

Hey you're fully back welcome :D

How are you doing? :3

(I had a dream right after you left that I was lost in a mall with Polaroid and I had it written down for when you got back and I thought you'd get a kick out of that hehe)

Anyways yeah I'm not gonna bug you too much or ask you any oc questions (cuz I don't got any) I just wanted to pop in and say hi :3

Have a noice day/night! :D

Hello, @luney2mooney!

Feel free to send an ask anytime, I’ll be thrilled to read your dreams!

To be honest, my artwork routine is still not fully back to normal.

I have been working on apartment renovations and repairs with my parents for the past 3 months, which is the reason I haven’t been active during the summer. Minimum internet usage, minimum air conditioner usage, 6-10 hours of physical work per day, hand-washing clothes and huge-@$$ bedsheets because we don’t have a clothes washer. My parents can’t even stand seeing me on any electronic devices for over 10 seconds.

And guess what? No wages for all the hard work! Not even a single penny unless we are capable to rent the apartment out! That’s life for ya when you aren’t born into a rich household — you’ll have a hard time making money that’s enough to support yourself.

Luckily, after two weeks I’ll be getting back to school so I won’t be dealing with as much physical labor. Funny, right? When everyone’s looking forward to vacation, I just want to go back to school and be a nerd. But then comes the problem with tuition, so I’ll probably open commissions in September, just to make some money so I can get a bit of pain relief from using so much of my parents’ pensions.

Anyway, my ask box is open, but I’ll still keep the same rules:

No NSFW and blank shipping is allowed on my turf, I’m trying to keep my mind healthy even when it comes to sexual content. And the fact that people are obsessed with forcing characters into ships disgusted me

No Skibidi-unrelated OCs unless you are asking for a commission (future planning)

I don’t use AI except when I need peer review on wording, not for entertainment or other purposes. Stop asking about it

Keep your ask precise, just a few more words can’t hurt. I don’t have telepathy so reframe yourself from forcing me to read your cave-man-speech

My ask box, my choice. If I don’t want to answer your questions, I won’t answer it. It’s not my absolute responsibility to answer everyone’s ask. But as long as nobody trespasses my rules, I will answer it with pleasure

Yes, I might be targeting people here because I’m tired of people spamming my ask box with random stuff I can’t even understand, and I’m tired of keeping up my “nice guy” profile. I find it EXTREMELY necessary to defend myself because people are *inadvertently* stepping on my boundary, not once, not twice, but MULTIPLE TIMES! Is it so damn hard to just learn to do better?

… Excuse me, I just wanted to vent. Take care of yourself as well.

#Ask

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years

Text

Under Orders - Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: (soft?)Dom!Marshall x reader (Described Marshall x reader)

Summary: August comes home after a business trip, only to find out his princess is under some highly inconvenient orders...

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, BDSM, D/s dynamic (technically D/s/D), praise kink, bondage, anal sex (toys, fingering, p-in-a) (f receiving) (unprotected, anal creampie), double penetration, slight hurt/comfort, use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, princess, kitten, sweetheart, love and darling), established relationship, extra light dacryphilia, spanking, phone sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, humiliation/degradation kink xxs?, bratty behavior (XXL), punishment/funishment, edging, orgasm denial, Also check-ins and aftercare... Tell me if I missed any because... Yeah, it's a lot.

A/N: So this took a slightly different turn, but I'm happy with it... If anyone still had any doubts if subbing for these two guys was intense, they'll be gone after reading this. Ask about part 3, I dare you ;)

I'm tagging everyone who expressed any kind of interest in a second part of this

✨filth✨

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @peaches1958 @know1udno @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @7eamfan7asy @ylva-stark @summersong69 @kingliam2019 @mayloma @sloppyzengarden @youve-yeed-yer-last-haw

Anyway: loads of smut under the cut

It’s almost seven when your cab pulls up to Marshall’s house. The lights are on in the kitchen, and you can see him through the window. As you walk up to the door, your hips sway with every step because of the heels you’re wearing, and it exaggerates the movement of August’s latest gift. The cold air of the night causes goosebumps to erupt all over your legs, and a particularly harsh gust of wind sends shivers down your spine when it finds its way underneath your trench coat and directly brushes past the sensitive skin of your pussy. The one time August can’t – or won’t, you’re not quite sure – drive you and he insists you wear nothing but that damn coat.

“Hey,” Marshall says as soon as the door opens, and he grabs the bag you’re holding, “dinner’s almost ready.” You sigh in relief. At least you get to breathe before you’re toast for your disobedience from last weekend. That being said, you’re not exactly looking forward to having dinner naked, so you’re not in a hurry to discard the only garment you’re wearing. Your stomach growls when you take in the scent in the hallway; whatever Marshall is cooking smells fantastic.

“It’s a simple pasta,” he says when you comment on it, “can I get you anything to drink? Water?”

“A glass of wine, maybe?” Your breath catches in your throat when you see him shake his head.

“No alcohol tonight, darling.” You don’t know what to make of it. All you know is that he needs you sober tonight, and that can be for all kinds of reasons.

“Aren’t you going to take your coat off?” Either he hasn’t caught on yet, or he’s pretending. In any case, it makes you feel insanely uncomfortable – in a way that exaggerates the sticky situation between your legs, and you cross your arms in front of your body to shield yourself from Marshall’s helping hands. It’s enough for him to realize what’s going on – he’s a detective, after all – and the grin on his face proves it. You aren’t surprised at all when the next time he asks if you are going to take your coat off, it isn’t really a question. He takes it from you with the calmest expression on his face and hangs it up before telling you to go to the kitchen. He deliberately walks behind you; Walter Marshall loves a good ass, and he’s especially fond of yours.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as you walk into the kitchen. He means ‘sit down’, but he’s not in the mood to give orders outright yet. It’s happened before that he waits with that until after dinner.

Let the records show that you love food, and therefore had never expected to find yourself in a situation the phrase ‘suffering through dinner’ would apply to. Yet that’s exactly what’s going on here; it’s not particularly warm in the house, and the hard plastic of the chair you’re on feels weird against your skin. You’re barely even able to enjoy the meal Marshall has prepared, which is a shame; he’s quite a good cook. By the time you’re almost done eating, you’re completely unable to sit still anymore.

“Darling, stop squirming,” Marshall says for the second time, and you whimper. Your legs are shaking, you just can’t help it, but you can tell Marshall is losing his patience. After a while, he gets up from the table and disappears for a minute.

He returns with something in his hand, and you immediately recognize the icy blue silicone.

“Get up.” He seems to have moved past dressing up his demands as request, and seems to think you are in dire need of direct orders right about now. He might just be right… You do as he tells you, shaking on your heels, and he looks down at the chair with a sly grin on his face.

“Are you making a mess of my chair, love?” “No, Sir,” you answer before thinking about it, then bite your lip when you realize your mistake.

“And lying about it, too.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and you gasp when his hand connects with your ass in a rather unfriendly manner. “I had really hoped he’d have taught you some manners by now, but I guess not. Bend over.” You lean forward, putting your hands on the table and sticking your ass out behind you. Marshall’s warm, large hand roams your back and kneads the flesh of your ass roughly before dipping between your legs.

“Now, let me ask again: Are you making a mess of my chair?” You whimper again when two of his fingers find your entrance and he pushes them in harshly. It doesn’t hurt – you’re dripping – but it’s unexpected and startling.

“Yes, Sir,” you say through clenched teeth as he moves his fingers inside your core. Apparently something feels unexpected to Marshall, too, because you hear a low chuckle before he takes a small step back, and his fingers withdraw, leaving your drenched pussy clenching around nothing. He spreads your cheeks to get a better visual, and laughs again when he sees the only thing August allowed you to wear apart from the shoes.

“That’s new.” The observation is followed by a few swift spanks that make you squeal, and then you feel the tip of the toy he’s holding between your lips, teasing at your entrance. “It’s bigger, isn’t it?” He begins to push the toy into you, easing it in so agonizingly slowly that you’re sure you’re going insane.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Is Daddy stretching you out for me?” His mouth is next to your ear now, and you can feel the warmth of his breath and the scruff of his beard on your skin. Of course he doesn’t accept your furious nodding as an answer.

“Yes, Sir.” Marshall laughs when you throw your head back and moan when he finally slides the rest of the dildo inside you. The feeling is amazing, even though the toy isn’t anywhere near as big as either of your guys – neither of the toys comes even remotely close to their sizes.

“Sit.” What? You look at Marshall wide-eyed, and you are met with the no-nonsense look he saves for those times where he really isn’t going to take any attitude from you. Still, your mouth opens to protest, even though you can’t for the love of everything that’s holy figure out what the fuck is wrong with you that you would dare.

“I don’t think it was a question, darling,” he says before a single sound can escape from you, and you give in, gasping loudly as you sit down. If you couldn’t sit still before, you sure as hell can’t manage now that both of your holes are filled.

“Squirm all you want, love, but you’re not allowed to come until I say so.” You mentally curse him to hell and back, but wisely keep your mouth shut as you sit as still as you can possibly manage. It’s safe to say dinner is done, and you push your plate away with an agitated sigh.

Marshall tells you to stay put as he clears the table, and it becomes harder for you to sit still with every passing second. He doesn’t mind your pitiful whining and moaning, in fact, he seems to relish the noises you make while he cleans up. When he’s done, he joins you at the table again.

“I think we need to talk, darling,” he says. His tone is serious, and so is the expression on his face. You swallow hard, and the butterflies from before you arrived return to your stomach. There’s guilt in your eyes as you look at him, which makes him grab your hand and squeeze it lightly. “Would you come upstairs with me?”

You follow him to the bedroom, keeping both toys inside you, which earns you an impressed smirk from Marshall. The first thing you notice when you step into the room is the rope that’s lying on the foot of the bed – the same kind he used to tie you up the week before. The sight alone is enough to send shivers down your spine and set fire to your core, and you wonder what he’s got in store for you. Marshall tells you to sit on the bed, and you oblige with newfound enthusiasm.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks. The tone of his voice is sincere. He joins you on the bed and pulls you into his broad chest before you can answer the question.

“Yes, Sir,” you murmur. It’s not a lie, per se; it’s almost ridiculous how nice it is to feel filled up like that, it’s just annoying that you’re not allowed to come, and the fact that you keep unconsciously squirming and clenching the toys is inconvenient and distracting. You expect to be reprimanded for saying all of that, but Marshall kisses your neck instead.

“Good girl,” he says before pulling the dildo out. You whine at the loss and glare at Marshall, who no doubt misinterpreted your words on purpose. “Sweetheart, I’ll let you come as many times as you want, and then some, but right now, I need your undivided attention. Can you give me that?” You nod and tell him you can, which he really seems to appreciate.

And then he starts the conversation you’ve been anxious about for a whole week, but not in any kind of way you had ever expected.

“I’m sorry I left you to make a call about the ropes by yourself last week, baby,” he says softly as he strokes your skin. You look at him as if you don’t understand. It was you who didn’t listen to his orders, why is he apologizing for that? “I should have considered the possibility that you wouldn’t listen to what I told you to do. August told me off about it, and he was more than right to: I never should have risked your safety, and I really do apologize.”

“But I didn’t listen…” The words are barely audible, muffled by the fabric of his sweater as you murmur them into his chest.

“That’s right, and you’re not off the hook for that, darling,” Marshall says, “but it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I should have made you aware of the risks that came with going against that order. Which is what I want to do today, are you okay with that?” You look at him, your eyes no doubt glistening with curiosity.

“Yes, Sir!” The words sound eager even to your own ears, and Marshall laughs.

“It’s very important that you do as I tell you, and that you pay attention, alright, sweetheart?” Now you know why he needed you both to be completely sober tonight… You answer him with the same amount of enthusiasm and do what he tells you immediately when he orders you to sit on your knees.

The next few hours are filled with explanations of different basic knots, practicing them, and a very detailed safety briefing on circulation and nerve damage, and you’re loving every second of it. You start by practicing on yourself, which is quite exciting.

“That’s too tight,” Marshall warns you every so often – especially in the beginning, “you have absolutely nothing to prove, darling.” He says that a lot, and you can use the warning. It’s almost as if you’re tempted to pull every single knot tighter than you actually want it to show Marshall you’re tough, that you can handle it, but he stops you every single time.

“Sweetheart, when I ask you whether you’re still comfortable, always tell me the truth.” He says when he catches you lying about your comfort level, and he shows you a knot that’s shifted to a place where it’s no longer safe. “It’s okay to be uncomfortable, it’s not okay to be unsafe.”

As if the little shibari-masterclass you’re getting wasn’t exciting enough on its own, Marshall has you practice some of the things on him, which is strange, but also extremely fun. Your cheeks heat up when he compliments you.

“You’re getting good at this,” he says. At first, everything he tells you to do to him happens in his sight, and you find the way he’s watching you while you work very exciting. And then he makes the big mistake of letting you tie his hands behind his back. In your defense; he should have known better. You ignore the warnings he gives you as you secure the end of the rope to the bedframe, and smile deviously as you make your way to the foot of the bed, grabbing the toy you used earlier off the nightstand on the way there.

“I’m giving you one final chance to reconsider this.” His tone is annoyed, but his eyes are not, which tells you he is secretly having fun – probably thinking about all the ways in which he will be punishing you for your bratty behavior later. Right now, you can’t be bothered by it, though you know you should probably know better.

“Are you uncomfortable?” You ask, knowing very well that the only reason you’re risking taking that tone with him right how is because he can’t smack the brat out of you – yet.

“I’m not.” There was a significant part of you that didn’t expect the answer you’re getting from him. There’s no doubt in your mind he’s telling you the truth: Marshall lives by his own rules. That being said; the last thing you want from him right now is for him to fake discomfort so he can get untied to gain the upper hand again. And he knows that.

You sit at the foot of the bed and smirk at Marshall, who seems to get calmer with every passing second – which you don’t like one bit. Slowly, you spread your legs to give him a good view of your pussy. You shudder when you slide the tip of the toy between your lips and tease yourself a bit, using your fingers to spread yourself even wider for the entertainment – or torment – of your spectator. He didn’t bat an eye; he didn’t scowl at you or tell you to stop, nor did he give you the impression he was enjoying this. His indifference is provocative, so much so that you go as far as looking him straight in the eye when you push the dildo all the way in, and don’t break eye contact as you start fucking yourself with it.

Something in his eyes drives you wild, pushes you to keep going, until you can’t keep your eyes on his anymore because it’s just become impossible to keep them open altogether. One hand pumps the toy in and out of your pussy while the other finds your clit and rubs tight circles around the sensitive bud until you can’t take it anymore. Fuck, you’re going to be in so much trouble. You have a decision to make, and you don’t have a lot of time to do it.

It’s either time for some serious damage control, or you finish making your bed with needles and pins. You make your decision a split second too late, deciding it isn’t worth it just as you tumble over the edge. When your eyes open again, they’re met with an icy blue gaze that tells you you’re more than screwed. The feeling you get from it is surreal. There’s a whirlwind of butterflies in your stomach, fighting to make their way out of you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“I hope you enjoyed that, baby, because that was the last one for the foreseeable future.” He means it, everything about the way he says it tells you that immediately, and there is absolutely no part of you that is willing to challenge him right now. You know you can’t keep him there forever. Everything you do that goes against him is just going to piss him off more, yet you’re frozen, both unwilling and unable to deal with the aftermath of your attitude just yet. So you sit there, in front of him, with a guilt-ridden look on your face and a trembling bottom lip.

“You made the conscious decision to go against me. Now you’re going to have to make the conscious decision to face the consequences of those actions. Untie me.” You move as slowly as humanly possible, until he tells you to speed it up. With each knot you untie, your heart beats faster and harder, your thighs clench together and the knot in your stomach tightens.

“What do I do with you now?” It’s usually a rhetorical question, but the way he asks it today is a bit different. He also doesn’t seem to appreciate your silence; he’s genuinely waiting for an answer.

“I said; what do I do with you now? You’re clearly in charge here, so tell me.” His fingertips gently stroke your cheek, which makes you shiver even more than you were already doing. “What do girls like you get for behavior like this?”

You’re frozen, unable to answer – perhaps because you don’t have an answer to his question – and incredibly curious as to what is actually going to happen to you.

“You don’t know?” he asks you, and his fingers move to the back of your head, where they grab hold of your hair. “You don’t want to make a decision?” You violently shake your head in reply to his question, but it’s not good enough; he tells you to speak up.

“N-no, Sir,” you say as you avert your eyes. He orders you to get on your knees and you listen. Your insides are on fire, anticipation courses through your veins, driving you wild with desire, and the insane curiosity is making you jittery. Marshall starts ties you down in your kneeling position, making sure your hands are secure behind your back. Then he retrieves your favorite vibrator from the box in his nightstand, and you know you’re screwed.

“No, please, no,” you beg as he walks over to you with a sadistic grin on his face, but it’s too late now. He straps the toy to your thigh and turns it on before briefly leaning on your thighs and bringing his face close to yours.

“And before you even so much as think about asking if you can come, the answer is no.” The vibrator is a corded wand, so you don’t even have the luxury of knowing the battery will run out, and within minutes you’re squirming, breathing heavy and whining. Not long after that, the whines turn to cries and pleas. And he just sits there, in front of you – the fucking bastard – for what feels like an eternity, slowing the speed of the vibrations every time you’re close to orgasm. Somehow, it’s better than when he gets up and takes his phone out of his pocket. He sits behind you on the bed, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Squeeze my hand, darling?” He follows the question by checking for damage in a few other ways before turning to you again. “Where are you, comfort wise?” You understand his question immediately – and sigh when he presses his lips to your neck.

“Green,” you say, “pushing yellow.” You’re beginning to reach an uncomfortable stage of overstimulation, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

“Good girl, keep talking to me, okay?” There’s something special about his check-ins, and you especially love that he stays close to you now, even though you’re fairly sure you won’t love what’s coming next. You feel another peak coming and you beg Marshall to let you come, but he denies you again.

“Please, Sir, please let me come, please, I’m begging you.” It’s all music to his ears, you’re sure, but he’s enjoying this far too much to just let you off the hook.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem to be listening to me very well, lately,” he says and his phone appears in front of you. The first thing you see is your face. You’re fairly sure there is no more mascara left on your eyelashes; all of it seems to be smudged across your cheeks from the tears you can’t fight back anymore because of the overwhelming sensations, and your lipstick is ruined from biting your lip.

“What did you do, princess?” Fuck. Your eyes widen as soon as you hear August’s voice through the phone, and you turn around to look at Marshall.

“Answer him,” Marshall says bluntly.

“I didn’t listen to Sir,” you murmur while heat gathers in your cheeks.

“I think you did more than that, sweetheart,” Marshall says. There’s a subtle threat to his voice that you can’t make out completely. You tell August the whole story, in between cries and gasps as Marshall keeps edging you relentlessly.

“So, a week?” August asks when you’re done talking. The question is clearly not aimed at you, but at Marshall, who gives a decidedly affirmative answer. You whine as you’re denied yet another orgasm – and because you won’t be having any for at least a week. You curse yourself. Marshall loves a little bit of defiance, but you just had to tie him up

“If she keeps misbehaving, I'll have to make it two. It would be a shame, though.” Marshall says. He’s smiling, and so is August. The guys clearly have something special planned.

“I understand, although I agree it would be a pity. But I know our little princess can be a good girl.” He turns his attention to you: “Can’t you, kitten?” You cry when the vibrations slow down again, keeping you away from yet another peak, and you know you can’t take more of this.

“Yes, Daddy, I can. I can, Sir, I promise. I won’t disappoint you, please, please let me prove it!” Tears roll down your cheeks and your words are interrupted by cries and sobs, until you finally hear the click of a button and the vibrations stop altogether. It leaves you with a strangely empty feeling, and you clench your thighs instinctively.

“You did very well, love,” Marshall says softly. He gently traces his fingers over the skin of your thighs and calves, raising a hand to August when he tries to ask a question.

“How are you doing, darling?” Je starts untying your wrists, which is very welcome. He was definitely pushing some boundaries, but you loved every second of it. August chuckles when you tell Marshall that – you can hear the sound come from somewhere on the bed. He loves it when you push yourself for them. Once your hands are free and Marshall is working on freeing your legs of their confinement, you reach for the phone, only to receive a literal slap on the wrist.

“Ask.”

“Can I talk to Daddy, Sir?” The look on his face – an unamused, eyebrow-raised side-eye kind of look from the ‘watch it’ category – tells you enough. “Please, Sir?”

“Of course, love. As a matter of fact, I think he mentioned he’d love to see what I’d do to you for last week’s disobedience.” Your eyes go wide. Somehow, somewhere along the way, you managed to forget about that.

“But, Sir, you just-“

“I just what, love? So far, we have unnecessary and distracting squirming during dinner, and making a mess of my kitchen chair,” he counts your infractions on his fingers for dramatic effect, “tying me up, playing with yourself and coming without my permission, an absolutely insufferable attitude, and several counts of disobedience while you went about it. Everything up until now has been for the trouble you got yourself into today.” For some reason, you grab the phone off the duvet and look at August.

“Daddy!” Big mistake. Both of them laugh and you feel smaller and smaller every second.

“Oh no, Princess, you made your bed, now you lie in it. Besides, I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Not as much as I am,” Marshall says as he sits on the edge of the bed and gestures at you to come over. He puts you over his knees without trouble.

“Can I hang up the phone?” you try, but you’re met with scornful laughter from both men.

“I don’t answer silly questions, love,” Marshall says as he pinches your backside hard. Ten slaps on each side, he says, and you have to count them. Mess up and start over. It’s pretty standard, but they’re going to drag this out, you just know it.

You do pretty well until the eighth smack is a particularly harsh one that makes you swear.

“Language!” You clench your thighs when they say it, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot straight to your core. Your little fuckup means you’re starting over. You mess the next one up on purpose – who knew eight comes before nine, not after? And then Marshall is done warming you up. You love it when he starts playing for keeps; he’s brutal, and it’s nearly impossible to keep your head on straight while counting. So much so, that you mess up two more times.

“Do you need a break, sweetheart?” You want to tell him you don’t, but it would be such a blatant lie you’d be in trouble all over again. Your ass is on fire, and you know the next set will bruise – marks you’ll wear with pride, no doubt – so the break is welcome. Marshall’s soft touch is soothing on your red hot, stinging skin, and you love to hear August’s voice.

“Good girl, taking your punishment so well for us.” Now your cheeks – the ones on your face – are burning as well.

“She’s doing fantastic,” Marshall says as he very, very gently squeezes your ass, “enjoying it, too.” You can feel your blush deepen as he says it, and it’s all because his fingers dip between your legs and he runs them through your folds. He takes a minute to tease your soaking wet pussy. You squeal when two of his fingers slide in, and a third follows nearly immediately, stretching your drenched little hole out so good it makes you want to cry – and you do. There’s no need to hold back, your makeup is already ruined and both of your guys get off on the sound, anyway.

“Is that good, baby? Do you want me to keep going?” Your answer is a weak moan that prompts both Marshall and August to ask you to use your words. Of course, as soon as you say ‘yes’, Marshall’s fingers disappear from your core. They reappear on your lips, a clear order for you to open your mouth and let them in.

Sucking Marshall’s fingers clean while August watches does something to you; you clench your thighs and wriggle in Marshall’s lap as you take his fingers as far down your throat as possible.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl, princess,” August groans, and you swell with pride when you realize he’s getting himself off to the sight of his little princess being smacked around by his friend. You put on a little show for him, sucking on Marshall’s fingers with an abundant enthusiasm both men really seem to appreciate, giving August your best ‘fuck me’-eyes while you choke on the digits that occupy your throat. You whine when Marshall pulls back.

“Think you can make this the last set?” he asks, as he gives your ass another gentle stroke.

“Yes, Sir,” you say determinedly, and you look at the phone to see August smile proudly. He praises you all the way through while Marshall focuses on spanking you, and this time around, you make it to ten without any more problems.

“Good girl,” he says, “I’m impressed.” August agrees with him. You’re burning, skin tingling all over and butterflies are roaming free through your body as they shower you with compliments and affection.

“I’d love to stay, kitten,” August says, “but I have some work to finish. Be good, I love you.” It’s a little sad when he hangs up the phone, but your attention is captured by Marshall again when he gently takes out the butt plug you’re still wearing. For a moment, you feel empty, but you have a feeling it won’t be for long.

“Are you still up for it, darling?” You want to scream that you are, but you think it over for a moment.

“Can I move around for a bit, Sir?” you ask him, and Marshall gladly allows you to. It’s one of the easiest ways for you to figure out just how sore and ‘done’ you are. The first thing you do is ditch the shoes, and your calves protest slightly when your feet are flat on the floor again.

You’re good, you decide, which Marshall seems very happy about, but you do ask to go a little slower. Naturally, he complies. He’ll be pushing you enough trying to work his massive cock into your ass. The thought is intimidating; he’s bigger than August and a part of you refuses to believe it’s going to fit. A substantial part. But something about the way he goes about this, almost as if he’s urging you – but not in a way that pushes you past any limits, convinces you that he’s doing this for you. The boys have something planned and you have an inkling it involves two excessively large appendages shoved into two relatively tiny holes; it’s better to be prepared. You need to know you can take him.

His approach reminds you of the exact reason you’re happy he wasn’t your first. He’s gentle, but the pace is significantly higher than August’s was last week. It’s a good thing August wasn’t born yesterday, and that the two are well acquainted, because without his preparation throughout the week, you would have been startled by it to say the least – and you might just have given up on the whole endeavor altogether. He’s already fucking three fingers into your ass by the time you get out of your head and back to the present.

It’s harder to match his rhythm while you’re on your back, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. Marshall checks in on you constantly. You pull at his sweater, impatient to get it of him so you can curl up against the fur of his chest, and he happily obliges. You whine when he pulls his fingers out, but you don’t get a lot of time to mourn the loss, because they find their way back swiftly, along with copious amounts of lube.

His naked body feels good against yours; you’ve missed him, and you take some time to let your fingers wander over his skin, lingering a bit longer at that one scar he never gave you an explanation for other than ‘he got shot but it was no big deal’. He takes his time with the last digit and slows his movements to gently work you open until he reaches a point where he feels comfortable to even ask you if you’re ready to proceed.

“Yes, Sir,” you say, unable to open your eyes due to the overwhelming sensations of the experience. He surprises you when he shakes your head and shushes you.

“Use my name,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. You push him away from you again to look in his eyes, and you see it. He’s reached a limit: aftercare starts now. You stroke his cheek and pull him back in, kissing him gently for a moment before pulling back and grinning.

“First name?”

“Never,” he says before you both burst out in laughter. Where there is a certain solemnity to aftercare with August, you and Marshall have a tendency to turn into idiots. He grins widely as he asks you if you still want to finish what you started, and you sigh.

“Will we ever make love like normal people?” You wouldn’t want to, he knows that, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t play along.

“We still can?” You feel the head of his cock slide over your pussy and you moan.

“I need to know,” you say, “I have a pretty good idea of what you and August have planned for next weekend, and I have to know…”

“Smart girl,” Marshall mumbles as he presses his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. You feel the coolness of even more lube against your skin, and you hear the obscene sounds of him, stroking his cock, coating it in the same cool wetness before positioning himself. “Don’t be a hero, baby.” He winks – tries to – and gently applies pressure.

“Fuck!” That vowel lasts a solid two seconds as you’re being stretched tight around his dick. “You’re way too big, this is rude. Rude!” You both laugh at that, which helps ease him in further until his pelvis rests against yours. You’re fortunate that the position you’re in doesn’t allow him to go deeper, because you see no way those logistics would pan out – ever.

“Rude, darling,” Marshall groans in your ear, “is the fact your arse is so tight, I think I’m going to come on the way out. Fuck.”

“Come on, you can give me at least a few good thrusts, can’t you?” He doesn’t seem to need any more motivation to begin moving; he gently rocks into you. He’s careful not to hurt you, and it works.

“No pain?”

“Just the amazing feeling of gigantic dick up my ass,” you moan in between gasps. His lips find yours again and he kisses you. It’s still gentle, but passionate, and your mouth opens automatically. His tongue slides into your mouth, dancing with yours for a moment before he pulls back and breaks the kiss.

“I can’t- Sorry, love,” he groans as he thrusts in a last time and fills your ass up with cum. He lies on top of you for a minute before pulling out and moving away. “Come take a shower with me?”

You nod and let him pick you up, asking for the same minute you did when it was August last week. Again; There are some things your not-boyfriend-but-boyfriend’s-college-roommate-bestie-who-you-also-kinda-fuck-questionmark… Fine, things your other boyfriend – or something – doesn’t need to be a part of. Just yet, or maybe ever. He turns the water on before he steps out of the room, and patiently waits for you to call him back in. You’re already the shower, and he steps in behind you, hissing as the water that hits his skin is far warmer than his preferred temperature, but he sucks it up. Marshall wraps his arms around you and kisses you on your head before he starts gently massaging your neck and shoulders – a welcome massage he’ll surely continue when you get back to bed.

“Is there anything we need to discuss?” He asks as he turns you around in his arms and pulls you into his chest. You shake your head and tell him everything was perfect. Marshall is quick to agree with you. He knows all too well that he gets ten times the attitude August does, but he doesn’t mind at all.

“Are you excited for next week?” It’s a redundant question and he knows it, but you meet his gaze with a wide smile on your face.

“Yes, Sir.”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #august walker x female reader #august walker x reader #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker smut #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

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Hey Sard! I just had an oral surgery and was hoping to get an imagine/headcannon to help me cope! I was thinking a Charlie and Ted poly (or just one of them will work haha!) Where the reader (preferably he/They or amab they/them) just had their wisdom teeth removed and are saying the most random and silly shit ever (example- I was convinced I was d_@d in the car home). And Charlie is trying to calm them down, while Ted is just provoking the Reader's drugged state 😂 Anyway, thanks! Love ya :D

this is such a fucking hilarious idea. one problem. im not taking requests so stop sending them please unless you're mutuals. im only doing this for comfort right now since my nights not doing so well

"Okay, say that one more time again for me (Y/n)."

Ted's grin was poorly contained, eyes filled with amusement as he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Th' fffucken seagulls. Coming to kill us all with their baby carrying beaks!"

"Storks carry the babies. Not seagulls."

"What!? Noooooooo."

You were currently laying on your back on Ted's couch, mouth swollen and brain essentially mush.

It was expected of course. You had just gotten done with getting your wisdom teeth removed after a few months of pain, something that was long overdue.

You had known you would be coming out of the dentist's office drugged and high as a kite, so you'd asked—read: forced—your friends Ted and Charlie to take you home afterwards, making sure that you didn't talk too much so you could heal.

Yeah. Only one of those things happened.

"Leave them alone, Ted." Charlie's words were serious as he awkwardly maneuvered his limbs to keep the ice pack in his hands on your face, but Ted knew he was just as entertained by your lunatic ramblings as he was. "They trusted us to make sure they would heal afterward. And I personally don't want to explain that the reason their mouth is bleeding again was because you wanted to hear about how seagulls are coming to kill us."

"Come on, you know they'd do the same to us if we were the delusional ones." He responded with a chuckle. Charlie rolled his eyes but silently laughed all the same, knowing he was right.

"Charles." You suddenly gasped, knocking the mans hand away feom your jaw and scrambling up to grab his arm woozily. "We're in grave danger. You must hide."

"..what?" He sputtered, halfway between laughing and scolding you for rushing up so quickly.

"Seaaagullsssss."

"Sit down (Y/n)."

"But the sky demons!" You cried, dramatically throwing yourself into him. He just caught you before pushing you back and looking at Ted, as if to signal for help.

The other man sighed, realizing that Charlie was right, and you probably did need to rest. And as much as he wanted to keep picking apart your brain in this state; he opted for getting up to walk over to the couch you were still on.

"Listen. If the seagulls come, I'll—" Ted paused a moment before continuing, remembering something he would say to Schlatt as a joke sometimes. "—I'll get the big fist to shoot them out of the sky."

You stopped mindlessly rambling at that, peaking open one eye to look at him skeptically. He nearly cracked a smile at your silly expression, knowing full well he would never let you live this down.

"Are you sure that will work" You slightly glared at him, dragging out the sure in suspicion.

"Very sure."

You didn't say anything for a moment. Ted's brows furrowed together as he waited for you to respond to him. It took the soft snores drifting out of your mouth for either of the boys hovering over you to realize that you had fallen dead asleep right in front of them.

"Oh thank god." Charlie sighed deeply before falling backward onto the floor with his arms and legs out. Clearly very happy that you had gone to sleep. "I thought I would have had to tie them down and force them to stop talking."

"Now that would've been funny."

"Shut the fuck up Ted and let me have this moment."

He just laughed.

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 10 months

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Yes to that comic version of Bruce! 👏 (what did you think of the bale batman and battinson?) Jensen is a bloody good actor but I just can't process him as the bat I look at him and my brain just says 💗soft💗 I liked the bale batman- although I can't see him as batdad but I can somehow see battinson trying to parent lol Jon Bernthal would make a killer batman for sure. I find it soo hard to fancast and I always end up changing my mind

Who is your Alfred? I love Michael Caine Alfred and I quite liked the Alfred from the Gotham TV series

I can't unsee Brenton Thwaites as Nightwing like in my mind the way Hugh Jackman shall forever be Wolverine and Ian McKellen is forever Gandalf, Brenton Thwaites is now my forever Nightwing. I really really want a Nightwing movie so bad. Have you seen the YouTube Nightwing series?

I've never heard of Tanner Buchanan before, but yo the green eyes sealed the deal there 💚 I find Jason the hardest to cast tbh

Griffin Gluck!! Have you seen locke and key? that's the only thing I've seen him in, Felix Mallard was in it too, I can sometimes envision Felix as Jason sometimes not, I've not seen a fancast before that has made me be like yes that is 100% Jason, I liked the hbo titans version of Jason but only as the hbo titans Jason if that even makes sense, little dude did so good in that role 👏 but anyways sorry for the Jason tangent lol !Griffin Gluck Tim Drake hell yeah! This is partly crack partly not but mostly crack but I can somewhat see Rebal D as Tim Drake the energy in his YouTube videos is at times very Tim to me

I wish dc would even just make a short mini movie, like 15 mins long, about Bruce trying to be a responsible father and damian just being damian 🤣

I know the ages for this arent right but oh well lol, I think I'd fancast Chance Perdomo as Duke, Emma Stone as Steph and Violet Orlandi as Cass, for the life of me I can't come up with anyone for Babara? (I love Violet as Cass, she's not even an actress but she could sooo do it)

Thanks for giving your fancast!! And 10 000% yes to the Wayne Family Adventures it's so perfect, I need to start reading that again. But yeah if you have anymore casting ideas for the batfam or villians etc I'd looovee to hear!

Hi anon!!! This is an AMAZING ask!!! Thank you so incredibly much for taking the time to send it! 🥰

This answer is going to be a bit lengthy so I'm going to put it under the break. And I am planning on doing another post of fancasting like this one for the extended Batfam members so I might not address all your points here, but they will be coming very soon! 😘

First of all, I am a big fan of both Bale and Pattinson's portrayals. I have a hard time picking a favorite because their approaches to the character are so different and yet both valid. I am VERY interested to see what they do with Battinson moving forward since this first movie is still early in his time wearing the cowl where he is still figuring out what Batman should be. And I would LOVE to see him get a Robin in the sequel (preferably sticking with Dick like the canon) but we shall see!

I'm not sure if you've seen The Boys, but Jensen's portrayal of Soldier Boy is all the proof to me that he could nail portraying Batman. And his range in Supernatural (from being a gruff and heartless hunter one minute to breaking down in a softer, protective emotional side the next) solidifies for me that he could switch between Batman to Batdad when needed. And he's charming as hell so Bruce wouldn't be a problem 😂

I'll have my new fancast of Alfred on my next post, but from previous ones, Michael Caine is always my Alfred. I think Andy Serkis is a great version of Alfred for Battinson and is what that Bruce needs (and his performance is great as always) and I enjoyed Sean Pertwee in Gotham (once again, a great interpretation for what *that* Bruce needed). However, Michael Caine was my first live-action Alfred and he was SO PERFECT, I don't think he will ever be topped as my favorite.

To be fair, I think Brenton Thwaites had the look for Dick and I think he could have been a good choice if the show was different, but for me, I can't get over how much Titans tone and interpretation of the characters/stories rubbed me the wrong way. None of the characters felt accurate to me based on their comic counterparts and the studio just tried to be too edgy and dark. The perfect example is the "Fuck Batman" moment. It was all over the trailers and just seemed like something they wanted to push to be like "this ain't your parent's Robin" but they pushed things so far it didn't even feel grounded in the characters I love. (don't even get me started on the Red Hood plot line).

I have seen the Nightwing youtube series and they do a really good job with it! My hope for this new direction of the DC movies and the fact The Brave and the Bold will focus on Bruce and Damian's relationship is that it means they'll include Nightwing and maybe mention Tim now working with the Titans (you don't want to include too many characters in the first movie which is the problem a lot of superhero movies have made lately). And I also want a mention of Jason but not have him returned as Red Hood yet which would be its own movie later.

Speaking of Jason.... While Dick is my first Robin and will always have a very special place in my heart because of that, Jason is my favorite. I just love how complex and rich his character development and story is. I also find casting him really difficult because of that. However, I do think Tanner Buchanan has a good potential. I've seen him in a few smaller roles, but I know he is a main character in Cobra Kai so he does have experience with fighting he could bring to the role (I haven't seen the show but I did watch clips on youtube). And as you pointed out, those green eyes are a big plus!

I think Curran Walters does a good job in Titans for what the show wants of him, but once again, it's just not my Jason and I rage quit season 3 😂 (though I watched clips of key Red Hood moments from later in the season)

Tim is always the hardest member of the main Batfam for me to write or cast just because he is the one I have the least knowledge or experience with outside of fanfics. However, I still really like him as a character and think he has a lot of potential in a movie or show. And I haven't seen Locke and Key (though it is on my list because I LOVE Aaron Ashmore)

I am excited with the prospect of having Bruce and Damian together in The Brave and the Bold, but I am also very nervous about how they will characterize them. All the Batman projects since Batman Begins have skewed very dark and I don't think that works well if you bring in the whole Batfam (if they just want to add Dick with Battinson, I think that could work but not expanding it to the whole gang). But James Gunn's comments about making the new Superman movie more about kindness feels like it will be a brighter, lighter version (more like the Christopher Reeve movies than the Henry Cavill ones) which I feel is more accurate to most comics, so I am cautiously optimistic for the Batfam in these movies. However, the canon and fanon versions of the Batfam don't always match (neither does the canon version between comic writers), but I am still hopeful for the more loving version we want, and is portrayed fairly well in the DC Animated movies.

As for Duke, Cass, Steph, and Barbara, I'm going to include them in my next post so you will have to wait a little to get my thoughts on them as well as a few others😉

Though because you brought up ages I will mention that all of my castings are based on if I were making a movie or show today. There are a lot of different people I would have loved to have in these roles in the past that are unfortunately just too old at this point.

And just another shout-out to Wayne Family Adventures because it is everything I ever wanted from a Batfam comic/story!!! Plus, the art is so perfect! Yes, the comic is a lot of fan service, but it is really funny while also being deep and emotional at times. It never loses the heart of the characters and you can tell there is so much love in the project and for these characters. If we could get a show or even a web series of this version of the Batfam, it would be a dream come true!

#thanks!#anon ask #I LOVE asks like this!!!#batman #batfam #fancast #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin

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