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dcxdpdabbles · 15 days ago

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John Constantine doesn't usually like to get involve with beings from the Infinite Realms. They are too chaotic to predict most of the time, makes it harder to trick them. But there is one contact Constantine has and that is Ember. Constantine knew Ember as a human, when he was in his punk rock band Mucous Membrane. They had some good memories together before both their lives went to shit. The only thing Ember asks in return for her help is that Constantine has to play a set with her. No one in the JL or JLD know about this until Constantine has to pull out his Ember card.

"I know someone who can help." John's voice rises over the chatter of multiple conversations, effectively silencing everyone. As one, the group of volunteer defenders- not heroes, John refuses to label this lot as heroic when most of them agree with the crazy shit the governments around the world get away with- turn to stare at him.

He smiles lazily, uncaring of the hundred pairs of eyes that run over his body. A few of the costume-wearing vigilantes grimace when they catch sight of who's spoken, but John recognizes that some of the lingering looks are appreciative, so he peens just a little.

He's a handsome one, he knows, but it's nice to be reminded.

"You know someone who can help?" Zatanna repeat though her words are edged with doubt. It would have been hurtful, but they were in the middle of an "off" of their on-and-off relationship, so it's no surprise. "Someone who could help stop a black hole from sucking in the earth?"

"It's not really a black hole, is it?" He counters, waving his hand at the screen, which is still flashing red and displays the word 'Emergency' across it. The three speesters —Barry, Wally, and Bart —were running around it, attempting to slow down the formation with their own vacuum, but they wouldn't be able to keep it up forever. "More of a portal made of dark matter that some loony scientist ripped open because his wife left him, isn't it?"

"No." Hal breathes heavily, looking utterly horrified from behind his mask. "That's not how dark matter works-"

"Yeah, so we need someone dead enough they can go in and stabilize it, but alive enough that they can use Batman's machine, yeah?" John cuts off the pilot. He's not in the mood to listen to a sky bus driver re-explain everything that Batman just said (though to be honest, John did tone him out). "I know a ghost who can help."

"A ghost," Bruce repeats, his voice steady. That's what he always liked about the detective. No matter what came out of John's mouth, the man always took it in stride and somehow managed to look in control and steady.

That made him so fit that John often fantasizes about breaking Bruce's careful control. He sends the man a flirty little grin, but Bruce doesn't so much as blink. "I thought ghosts weren't able to interact with the physical world."

"They're not usually able to." Zatanna scowls, looking upset. She crosses her arms, sending John a narrow eye and an accusatory glare. He thinks it's unwarranted since she was the one who asked for their relationship to end. He's allowed to flirt with Bruce, come on, it's Batman. "Not unless that ghost has a contact with a living or found some place so drenched in ectoplasm it may as well be on the other side."

"What kind of contract?" Clark questions. John wiggles his eyebrows back at the Kypotian suggestively and has to bite back a grin at the blush that rises on the man's cheeks.

What an innocent little farm boy.

"The sexy kind," John declares smugly, just to make Clark flush darker. It's hilarious when he succeeds. " I'm joking! Ha, no, it's more like a favor between two friends. Ember and I go way back. I knew her in life-"

"That's dangerous!" Zatanna snaps seemingly at her wits' end. "You shouldn't be messing with spirits you knew in life. They tend to get corrupted!"

"Meh, Ember has always been corrupted," John shrugs, not caring that his ex's eyes go wide with horror. "We grew up together. We were even the original members of our own band before her Pa got a new job in America, and he moved the whole family across the pond. She got bullied bad by the stupid rich kids over here until a fire took her life. Her soul came back home to jolly old England, not even an hour after her death. I found her drumming on her guitar in our old hideaway, glowing and flouting. It's actually how I found out I had magic. Anyway, Ember made a pact to always be my friend before she flew into the sunset- and I mean that literally, a natural portal opened up into the Realms. She sent postcards."

"She can help?" Bruce cuts in, obviously trying to get John back on track. At the magic user's nod, the man seems to settle, uncoiling his muscles. It's gratifying that someone on Batman's level trusts John's expertise so much. Say what you will, but Bruce never doubts his comrades' abilities. "Good. Call her."

John grins, pressing his hand against his mouth and blowing out a kiss. "Ladies, Gents and Gits, are you ready to rock!?"

A woman's voice screams back, "Yeah!" causing a few people to jump

"I can't hear you!"

"Yeah!"

"I'm Johnny Con-Job on mic and this fine piece of arse is Ember! Listen to those strings~!" John screams, mimicking a mic while a fast past air guitar riff rips through the air. The noise is coming from everywhere and nowhere, leaving the many volunteer defenders to twist and turn, trying to pinpoint its origin.

Ember burst into the scene, her flaming hair whipping around her whole body as her means of travel before shrinking back onto her head. She's playing fast, angry, and grinning like a devil.

Someone in the crowd lets out a loud scream of joy, "Oh my god, it's Ember McLain!"

John's lips twitch with amusement but he's too busy singing the familiar words that they once wrote together while hiding out from his shitty father and her shitty mother. Both were just a couple of troubled teens no one thought would amount to anything, so they had to believe in themselves and each other back then.

He remembers thinking he would one day marry this girl. Life wasn't fair to those troubled like them.

Once their song ends, Ember lets out a whoop, flouncing down to John's level and punching him in the arm. He grins at her, trying not to notice how she looks exactly the same as she did sixteen years ago when the fire took her and he aged on without her.

"You git! How's it going?!" She laughs, punching him again. Ember's hair is a healthy flame, reaching to the middle of her back, which suggests she has likely enchanted a few humans lately. He's glad. She needs all the stabilization she can get. Her eyes roam his face before snorting "You're old as shit now."

"I'm thirty-two," He scoffs mockingly offended

"Wow, twice my age...." His words trail off as a familiar loneness sinks into her expression, and he wants to kick himself. Right, they were the same age once upon a time. Her face clears up long enough for her to smirk, "I bet your knees hurt from watching other people jump."

John gasps for real this time, but he doesn't have a chance to rebut because Bruce steps up, explaining what was happening to the superstar.

Ember gives him her full attention, nodding along to the plan. She's going to help because she knows the request is coming from John when he summoned her.

"You know Ember McLain!?" Someone hisses into his ear. He turns to the person fully prepared to gloat that, yeah, he knows the rock/pop star that was sweeping the nation, only to gape at the sight of Diana-Wonder Woman for Pete's sake- a starstruck gaze.

For a moment, his tongue doesn't work as Diana grips his upper arm. "My sisters and I used to listen to her music on repeat back home. Do you suppose you can get me an autograph for them?"

John doesn't know how to say no to Wonder Woman, so he finds himself asking his childhood friend, who is preparing to go into a portal made of science, if she can sign five hundred or so cards for free. She squints at him but shrugs. "Only if you can beat up Phantom for me."

"I told you, I'm not going to fight a child, Em."

"Even though he deserves it?!"

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Bandmates #John and Ember were childhood freinds #Her music is passed around the Ghost Zone #Themyscira is connected to it #The whole island loves her #Ember is famous but no one knew she was a ghost #John's pov #Bruce is just going to side step John's flirts #Yes John thirsts for everyone #morally grey John #NOT a ship between Ember/John anymore. She stayed a child and he grew

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d-z20 · 5 months ago

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From Jealousy, Comes a Flood (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: During a coven gathering, harmless flirtation draws the sharp eyes of Agatha and Rio, their possessive instincts simmering beneath the surface. Later, in the privacy of their bedroom, they remind you exactly who you belong to.

-OR-

Jen is flirting with you, much to the displeasure of Agatha and Rio. They can only take so much so it is not long before you're dragged upstairs and fucked into next week

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mentions of alcohol consumption, Top Agatha, Top Rio, bottom reader, threesome (duh), kind of mean agathario, light dom/sub themes, magic cocks, possessiveness, ownership, degradation, praise, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, squirting, soft aftercare, cock-warming

Words: 4.9k

A/N: another FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU and I've decided that Eddie gets roped into the coven as well. I think I'm utterly hilarious with this title and I don't care if you disagree 💀 Fic req

AO3 | Masterlist

The evening hums with warmth, the air thick with candlelight and magic. Agatha’s living room is filled with the easy sounds of conversation, the occasional clink of glasses, and the quiet laughter of a coven that has, against all odds, found peace. Lilia and Billy sit tucked away in one corner, deep in discussion about the ever-shifting paths of the Witches’ Road, their words a steady, familiar rhythm against the backdrop of Alice’s teasing. Eddie groans in mock frustration, waving her off with a smirk, but it’s all background noise to Agatha, barely registering past the scene unfolding across the room.

You’re seated comfortably on the loveseat, a glass in hand, and Jen is next to you—too close, really, though you either don’t notice or don’t mind. The warmth of her body presses against yours, a slow and steady presence, her knee brushing against yours beneath the low table. She’s relaxed, sprawled in a way that lets her arm drape casually over the back of the couch, fingers dangerously close to your shoulder. Every so often, when she leans in to say something, her lips hover just shy of your ear, the words meant for you alone.

Agatha’s grip tightens around the stem of her wine glass.

She watches, sharp blue eyes tracking every languid movement Jen makes, every flicker of her fingers against your arm, every flash of your smile in response. You look at Jen the way you always do—open and warm, entirely unaware of the way Agatha’s gaze darkens, something smouldering beneath the surface. The wine is smooth on her tongue, but there’s something sharper curling in her gut.

From across the room, Rio stands near the fireplace, her stance deceptively relaxed, one arm resting against the mantel as she observes the interaction with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers tap a slow rhythm against her lips, a steady metronome of barely restrained irritation. She doesn’t bother to mask the way her gaze lingers on Jen’s hand—where it rests, where it shouldn’t.

Jen is playing with fire. And she doesn’t even realise it.

Or maybe she does. Maybe she’s testing the waters, seeing just how far she can push before the dam breaks.

It’s not overt—nothing crude, nothing anyone else would comment on—but Agatha knows. She knows the way a witch moves when she’s hunting, the way interest sharpens into something bolder. She can see it in the way Jen leans just a little too close, in the way her fingers graze your wrist under the pretence of emphasising a joke.

You laugh, head tilting back slightly, and the sound is a warm, golden thing that makes something in Agatha snap. Just for a second. Her knuckles go white around the glass, the tension bleeding into her posture, but she reins it in before it can spill over. She’s controlled. Patient. But, oh, she’s scheming.

Rio catches the shift before anyone else—the slight clench of Agatha’s jaw, the way her fingers flex before settling, the sharp inhale she takes before exhaling through her nose. Brown eyes flick back to you and Rio’s smirk deepens. It’s not amusement anymore.

It’s oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re in for.

And when your hand slips over Jen’s for just a moment—fleeting, accidental, barely even a touch—Agatha’s patience wears just a little thinner.

—

The evening winds down in a slow, lazy hum, conversations fading into the comfortable haze of flickering candlelight and half-drunk glasses of wine. What hasn’t wound down is the tension that has been steadily curling around you, threading through every moment since Jen first laid a hand on you. You feel it now—wrapped around your skin like something tangible, like something electric.

And Agatha is done waiting.

She doesn’t announce it, doesn’t make a scene. She simply moves. A shift of energy, a shift of power. One moment, she’s perched on the edge of the couch, glass in hand, her blue eyes unreadable as they flick between you and Jen. The next, she’s there—at your side, close enough that the warmth of her body is a quiet, searing brand against your own.

An arm snakes around your waist, fingers firm but deceptively gentle, nails grazing the fabric of your clothes as she pulls you flush against her side. The contrast is dizzying—the casual way she holds you, like she’s done it a thousand times before—and the quiet steel beneath it, the way her grip brooks no argument. She doesn’t ask. She takes.

“We’re going upstairs,” she tells everyone, her voice a slow, dark thing that settles deep in your belly.

Then a beat of silence. The air crackles with unspoken meaning before Agatha tilts her head, smirking slightly. “No need to leave just yet,” she adds, deceptively pleasant. “Señor Scratchy will make sure you all find the door soon enough.”

The coven collectively shifts their gazes toward the far side of the room, where the very content, very fluffy rabbit sits on an ornate end table, lazily munching on a piece of lettuce. His nose twitches slightly, his ears flicking as if in acknowledgement, but otherwise, he seems completely unbothered.

Lilia is the first to clear her throat. Eddie coughs. Alice shifts uncomfortably. Jen just smirks, taking a slow sip of her drink as if she knows exactly what’s happening—and that she’s not the one who won this little game.

You barely have time to process the shift before another presence joins you—heat at your other side, softer but no less overwhelming. Rio presses in close, her breath a whisper of warmth against the shell of your ear, her lips just shy of touching.

“Say goodnight, sweetheart,” she tells you, voice thick with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches, the sudden intensity making your head spin. It’s not that you don’t know what’s happening; it’s just that it’s happening so fast, so seamlessly, that your body is still struggling to catch up. There’s a pull, an inevitability in the way they move around you, a claim in the way they close in, blocking out the rest of the room until it’s just you and them.

Your mouth parts, but the words stick, caught somewhere between confusion and anticipation, between the slow thrum of excitement winding tight in your stomach and the heat creeping up your neck. You barely manage a stammered, “Uh—g-goodnight,” before Rio’s fingers ghost down your arm in silent praise, a teasing brush that makes your pulse stutter.

Jen, still lounged comfortably on the couch, lifts her glass in an easy, knowing salute, a smirk tugging at her lips. There’s amusement in her gaze, maybe even a bit of satisfaction—like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she knew what this would lead to. But she doesn’t push, doesn’t gloat. She simply watches.

Agatha meets her gaze with a single, sharp brow raise—nothing more, nothing less. A quiet warning wrapped in a glance, a silent you got your fun, now she’s ours.

Then, without another word, Agatha guides you forward, her hold on your waist unrelenting, leading you away from the dim glow of the living room and into the deeper, darker warmth of the house.

Upstairs.

To their room.

—

The door has barely shut before Agatha has you pinned against it. It isn’t rough, but it’s deliberate—controlled. A slow, calculated press of her body against yours, her presence overwhelming in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs. The wood is cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat curling low in your stomach and to the way her fingers trace down your sides, nails dragging in a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

Her lips are close—so close you can feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over your skin.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” She purrs, voice a knowing thing that winds tight around you. Her fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you in until there’s barely any space left between you. “Letting Jen touch you. Letting her look at you like that.”

The words aren’t a question. They’re a verdict. A confession she already knows you’ll make.

You can’t even form a thought before another touch finds you—this one softer but no less commanding. Rio’s fingers trail along your jaw, tilting your chin until you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes gleam in the dim light, dark with something wicked, something hungry.

“Maybe we haven’t been reminding you who you belong to enough,” she ponders aloud, and there’s something almost playful in her tone, but underneath it there’s something far more dangerous.

Magic crackles between the three of you, thick and intoxicating, filling the air with a charge that sets your skin alight. It pulses beneath their fingertips and seeps into your bones.

Agatha’s nails press in just a little harder, a teasing scratch down your ribs. “That’s alright, darling,” she muses, her lips curving into a smirk that sends heat straight between your thighs. “We’ll just have to remind you.”

And you know with the way their bodies cage you in, with the way their magic hums against your skin like a living thing, that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

The air vibrates with something electric, something that thrums through your veins like a spell you have no control over. Agatha doesn’t need an incantation; just a flick of her fingers, a lazy curve of her lips, and suddenly, magic coalesces between you.

With a single, effortless motion of her wrist, the world shifts. Clothes dissolve into nothingness, vanishing in wisps of deep violet energy, unravelling at the seams like they were never there at all. Warmth rushes over your now-bare skin, a phantom caress where fabric had been just moments ago. You barely have a second to register the sudden exposure before a new sensation takes its place.

It takes shape in a slow, pulsing shimmer, raw energy forged into something solid, something thick and heavy. The last remnants of magic glowing faintly around the shaft make your breath catch.

Agatha tilts her head, watching you with a knowing smirk. “Since you were so eager for attention today,” she purrs, tapping the tip of her newly conjured cock against your thigh. “Why don’t you show us how desperate you really are?”

Heat floods through you, pooling deep in your core, making your knees weak.

Rio hums from where she lounges on the bed, one leg draped over the other, fingers tapping idly against her thigh as she watches. Amusement flickers in her eyes, but beneath it—beneath it is something darker, something that makes your pulse pound in your throat.

“Go on, sweetheart,” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Show us.”

Agatha’s hands find your waist, steadying you, guiding you onto her lap. Her skin is soft beneath your palms as you brace yourself against her shoulders, heat radiating from her in waves.

Then she pushes you down slowly, deliberately, and her cock slides into you, stretching you inch by inch. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as it fills you perfectly like it was made for you, like she knew exactly how to shape it to hit every aching, sensitive part of you.

Agatha’s nails press into your hips, holding you there, keeping you still even as your body trembles with the need to move.

“So pretty when you’re taking what we give you,” she notes, voice like velvet, dark and dripping with satisfaction. Her lips ghost over your throat, breath warm and teasing, as if she’s considering sinking her teeth in.

A choked whimper escapes you as she rolls your hips, setting a slow, torturous rhythm, dragging you along the thick length of her in a way that has sparks dancing up your spine.

From the bed, Rio’s voice reaches you, smooth as silk. “Look at them, my love,” she muses, her gaze molten as she watches. “So eager.”

Her lips curl, wicked and indulgent, as one hand lifts effortlessly. Magic crackles in the air, a deep, searing green that pulses and solidifies, taking shape in her palm. A thick, glistening length, forged from pure energy, larger than Agatha’s but just as intoxicating.

She wraps her fingers around it, stroking slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving you. The motion is unhurried, teasing, as if she’s savouring the anticipation, the way your breath catches, the way your thighs press together unconsciously.

“Let’s see how long you can last,” she purrs, heat and promise dripping from every word.

Agatha’s grip on your hips tightens, keeping you exactly where she wants you—trapped in the slow, torturous grind she’s set. Her cock twitches, responding to every shift of your body, pulsing with a pleasure that borders on overwhelming. Every drag, every deep thrust, sends sparks of sensation curling up your spine, heat coiling tighter in your stomach.

Her mouth never strays far from your throat, her breath a teasing whisper against your skin. “You feel that?” she murmurs, rolling your hips just a little sharper, just enough to have you gasping. “Every inch of you stretched so perfectly, taking what I give you.”

A whimper catches in your throat as your fingers dig into her shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto, something to anchor yourself against the immeasurable pleasure. But Agatha only smirks, amusement flickering in her sharp blue eyes as she watches you struggle between wanting to take more and barely holding on.

From the bed, Rio groans, a sound of both appreciation and impatience. “Mmph, fuck, look at you,” she breathes, her own desire evident in the low rasp of her voice. “So pretty when you’re like this—so needy.”

Your gaze flickers toward her, drawn by the hunger in her tone. She’s sprawled against the sheets, her chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. But it’s her hands that make your pulse stutter; one is gripping the sheets for control, the other is wrapped around her own summoned length, stroking rapidly. Each slick glide of her palm is deliberate, hungry, her grip tightening as she watches you. She’s panting, barely holding herself back, jaw clenched, muscles taut as if restraining the urge to take you right then and there.

The sight of her like this—wrecked and wanting—sends a bolt of heat through you, your body reacting instinctively, clenching hard around Agatha’s magic cock inside you. Agatha notices immediately. A sharp inhale, a dark chuckle, and then—her fingers dig into your hips, nails biting deliciously into your skin as she drags you down further, rougher this time, forcing you to take every inch.

The sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, rips a cry from your lips, your head falling forward onto her shoulder. But Agatha only hums, pleased. “Take what you’re given.”

“Is this what you wanted?” Rio taunts, her voice smooth and dangerous. “To be fucked like this? To let her flirt with you all night while you waited for us to put you back in your place?”

It’s too much and not enough, all at once. The pleasure is searing, magic rolling over your skin in heated waves, and you’re on the edge—so unbelievable close. You arch against her, hands fisting in her hair, eyes fluttering shut as you—

“Not yet,” Agatha tuts, slowing your movements, keeping you just barely from tipping over the edge. “You’ll cum when we say you can.”

A desperate sound slips from your lips, but she only chuckles, dragging you into one last, deep roll of your hips before finally stilling you in her lap. You’re trembling, breath ragged, body thrumming with need.

Agatha strokes a hand up your spine, soothing despite the wicked smirk she wears. “That’s enough—for now.” Then, softer, close enough that her lips brush your ear, she whispers, “Now, be a good thing and let Rio have her turn.”

The words send another shiver through you, but before you can fully process them, strong hands are on your waist, guiding you to your feet.

Agatha’s grip is firm and unyielding as she manoeuvres you effortlessly onto the bed. Rio’s hands replace Agatha’s as they press against your hips, steadying you as they shift your position. Before you realise what’s happening, you’re being bent over the edge of the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress, your palms bracing against the sheets. The cool air against your heated skin sends a shudder through you, anticipation coiling tight in your belly.

Rio moves behind you, her body flush against yours, the solid heat of her presence a stark contrast to the chill of the room. There’s no hesitation as she presses into you, her chest warm against your back, her breath ghosting over your shoulder as her hands map slow, possessive paths over your body. Her fingers trace over the curve of your waist, down your stomach, teasing lower, skimming over sensitive skin still thrumming from Agatha’s touch.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” she teases, the amusement laced with dark satisfaction. “Let’s see just how much more you can take.”

Her hand dips lower between your legs. A sharp gasp escapes you as she gently strokes your clit, teasing, spreading you just a little more.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before she’s pressing the tip of her cock against you, not pushing in yet—just waiting, letting you feel the heat radiating from it, the pulsing energy that matches the pounding of your own heartbeat.

Her lips brush your ear, her free hand coming up to rest against your throat, fingers curling just enough to remind you who’s in control. “Gonna make sure you can’t even think about anyone else,” she promises, voice dripping with possession.

Rio doesn’t rush; she never does. She starts to push herself in, stretching you open, inch by inch, the heat of her magic cock thrumming inside you, making you feel every inch of its pulsing weight. Your body shudders against her, muscles trembling from the unrelenting pleasure already coursing through you, but she only chuckles, low and satisfied.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Take it all. Let me feel you, my love.”

Her hands roam—one splayed possessively over your stomach, pressing down just enough to make you feel how deep she is, the other tracing up your chest, over your throat, to grip your chin. She tilts your head back, forcing you to meet Agatha’s gaze.

The older witch watches you with something like reverence, sharp blue eyes heavy-lidded, lips curved in a knowing smirk. Her fingers brush the damp skin of your flushed cheeks. “Still with us?”

You can’t answer—can barely think—because Rio starts moving. A slow, deep pull before she thrusts back in, setting a rhythm that has you gasping, back arching against her. The heat of her magic rolls over your skin, intoxicating and overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with every snap of her hips.

Her breath is hot against your ear, her voice dark and possessive. “No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to hear these pretty sounds.”

Agatha leans in, tracing a thumb over your parted lips before slipping it into your mouth. “So perfect when you’re like this,” she hums, watching the way you instinctively suck, tongue swirling over her thumb. “Our pathetic, pretty, little slut.”

They move together, Agatha’s hands guiding your hips, Rio fucking into you deep and steady, drawing out every little noise, every desperate twitch of your body. It’s too much, too good, pleasure curling so tight inside you it’s almost painful.

And then they switch.

You don’t even have time to process it before you’re back in Agatha’s lap, her cock filling you once again, stretching you perfectly as Rio moves in front of you, fisting your hair to tip your head back.

Their hands roam—Agatha’s grip unyielding on your hips, Rio’s fingers tracing your throat and your lips, her gaze dark and hungry as she watches you fall apart between them.

Again and again, they take you, switching, repositioning, and fucking you until your body is trembling, your voice breaking on gasps and whimpers. Until your skin is slick with sweat, muscles twitching from overstimulation, nerves frayed and buzzing with raw pleasure.

Rio is the one to finally allow you to cum.

You're on your knees, straddling Agatha, your thighs trembling as you try to hold yourself up. Beneath you, Agatha leans back against the headboard, watching you with dark, hooded eyes, her hands gripping your waist as if she has no intention of letting you escape. Her nails dig into your skin, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

Behind you, Rio is relentless. She pounds into you, each deep thrust forcing you forward, pressing you harder against Agatha’s body. The room is thick with heat, with the slick sounds of skin meeting skin, with Rio’s panting breaths and the quiet, pleased hums from Agatha as she watches you fall apart between them.

Agatha’s fingers trail up your spine, slow and teasing, before wrapping around your throat, tilting your head down so you’re forced to meet her gaze. “Completely ours.”

Then, Rio cups your face from behind, her fingers warm, her thumb tracing your lower lip in a slow, tantalising glide. She leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her voice thick with command and something sweeter—something indulgent.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she coaxes. “You can let go for us now.”

Agatha’s mouth ghosts over your skin, her nails digging into your hips as her voice turns sharp, electric with command. “Cum for us, you desperate little thing. Show us who you fucking belong to.”

The command shatters you.

Your body seizes up, pleasure slamming into you so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs, your vision going white. Heat erupts from deep inside you, a gush of wetness spilling over Agatha’s thighs, soaking her completely.

Rio groans, dark and satisfied, watching you unravel.

Agatha hums, pleased, dragging her fingers through the mess between your thighs before bringing them to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied smirk.

“Now that,” she chuckles, her voice dripping with pride, “was beautiful.”

Your body trembles; you can barely hold yourself up as Agatha strokes slow circles into your hips, her touch grounding. Under you, her thighs (and the bedsheets) are soaked with your arousal, her blue eyes hooded with satisfaction as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

And then Rio thrusts one last time, burying herself to the hilt with a low, guttural grunt. Her arms tighten around you, muscles tensing as she finds her own release. A shudder racks her frame, and you feel it—all of it—spilling deep inside, filling you in a way that makes your body clench around her in aftershocks.

She holds you there, pressed flush against her, breath hot against your neck. “Fuck,” she mutters, voice thick and satisfied, lips ghosting along your damp skin.

Agatha hums, trailing her fingers through the mess between your thighs, bringing it to her lips with a wicked smirk. “Beautiful.”

Rio’s laughter is low and sinful, a slow drawl of amusement as she watches the way your body still trembles, the way slick drips down your thighs, glistening in the dim light. “Look at you,” she coos, fingers skimming possessively over your lower back. “Absolutely pathetic.”

In a flash, Agatha’s hands are in your hair, firm enough to make her point as she pushes you forward. With a displeased grunt, your cheek is pressed against the soaked sheets, the scent of your own release thick in the air.

“Making such a mess,” Agatha tuts, her voice laced with mock sympathy. Her nails scrape lightly down your spine. “Like a needy little thing who can’t help themselves. Is that what you are, hmm?”

Rio leans down, her breath warm against your ear as she adds, “Did you even realise how much you were dripping? Fucking soaking the bed like a desperate little slut.” Her fingers trace over the damp imprint you’ve left behind, and she chuckles. “And it’s all because of us. Only we can make you lose control like that.”

Agatha’s fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up just enough for her to smirk down at you. “But you like this, don’t you?” she jibes, rubbing a thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. “Being used. Being ruined. Being ours.”

And despite the teasing, despite the way they taunt, there’s something else lingering beneath it—a kind of satisfaction, a wicked pride that it was them who made you break like this.

In a complete switch of character, soft hands start to guide you away from the bed, leading you into the bathroom. Your legs nearly give out as you stand, but Agatha steadies you with a knowing chuckle. “Oh, darling. You’re completely wrecked, aren’t you?”

Rio presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your waist. “You did so well for us.”

Warm water surrounds you as they pull you into the shower, Agatha sliding in behind you while Rio hovers at the edge, running a washcloth over your body with slow, deliberate care. Every touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to their earlier intensity.

Agatha hums as she combs fingers through your damp hair. “Still with us, love?”

You nod, sinking further against her, completely pliant as Rio finishes cleaning between your legs, her touch featherlight. She grins when you whimper, placing a teasing kiss to your knee. “Sensitive?”

You glare at her, but it lacks any real heat.

When they’re satisfied that you’re clean, they literally carry you back to bed because your legs still aren’t working properly. Agatha tucks you between them, her fingers trailing lazily along your arm as Rio curls herself around your back, her chest warm against you.

For a moment, it’s peace.

Until you feel something hard press against your oversensitive clit.

Your breath catches as you shift, feeling the unmistakable shape of Rio’s length rubbing against you, already slick from the mess between your thighs. She doesn’t move—just lets it rest there, pulsing, waiting.

When you don’t protest, Rio rolls her hips forward, pushing inside you with a smooth, deliberate thrust.

Your body jolts, a whimper escaping as the stretch burns just right, still sensitive from before. Every nerve is raw, overstimulated, yet the moment Rio moves, your body betrays you—clenching around her, desperate despite the exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs.

She groans, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, her lips hot against your sweat-damp skin. “Sorry,” she breathes, though there’s no real remorse in her voice. Only hunger. Only possession. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Couldn’t help myself. You feel too good.”

And then she moves again.

Slow at first, rolling her hips against you, stretching you open all over again, but the drag is too much, too intoxicating, and she quickly loses patience. Her thrusts grow rougher and deeper, pressing you down into the mattress as she chases her pleasure.

One of her hands slides down, pressing against your lower stomach, feeling how deep she is and how your body takes her so perfectly. “Fuck,” she grits out, her voice breaking into something desperate, something raw. “You were made for this, made for my cock.”

She buries herself to the hilt, grinding deep as her breath stutters, her grip on you bruising. A low, guttural groan spills from her lips as she spills inside, heat flooding you, filling you up in a way that makes your body arch, whimpering at the sensation. But she doesn’t pull out.

If anything, she shifts closer, wrapping herself around you, securing you in her grip, arms banding around your waist as if she could sink deeper, as if she could mould you to her, and her cock twitches inside you softening slightly.

Agatha chuckles beside you, lazy satisfaction dripping from her voice as she drags her nails down your stomach, the sensation sending another shiver through your overstimulated body. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, her amusement laced with something dark, something final. She leans in, lips brushing yours as she purrs, “You’re staying like this all night.”

Rio hums in agreement, a deep, satisfied sound as she strokes your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “So when you wake up,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin, “the first thing you feel is us.”

And just like that, you’re pulled deeper into their warmth, into the comforting weight of them around (and inside) you.

—

When you wake the next morning, every part of you aches—a deep, satisfying soreness that lingers in your muscles, in the tender places where hands had held you down, where teeth had marked you.

You shift slightly, stretching—and then you feel it.

The fullness between your legs, still there, still hot, still hard.

A quiet groan vibrates against your skin, and you realise Rio is awake, her breath warm against your shoulder.

Agatha is watching from her side of the bed, propped up on an elbow, smirking down at you. “Morning, darling,” she purrs, looking far too amused.

Rio presses a slow, lazy kiss to your shoulder, her hips shifting slightly. “Sleep well?” She grumbles, her voice still husky with sleep.

Your breath stutters, your body already reacting despite the oversensitivity, and heat sparking low in your belly.

Agatha hums, brushing a teasing hand down your stomach, nails grazing over your skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” she coos. “We’re not done with you yet.”

And just like that, the morning is off to a very good start.

-----

Ugh, I finally remembered to include the diva that it señor scratchy in my writing, I've been meaning to do it every time because I love that guy 😭😭

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

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starxs-s · 18 days ago

Text

NFI me and you

Michael Gavey x Felix's sister!reader ♡ chapter 1

warnings: semi-public sex, sloppy pussy eating (Michael don't know shit about how to do that, don't fight me on that), unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), virgin!Michael, hair pulling, almost getting caught (in the end), virginity loss, premature orgasm, small praise kink, Michael being a little shit.

word count: 5k

minors please don’t interact.

summary: At college Christmas party Michael goes to library just to find someone he least expect to see there. Basically two nerds getting at it.

from Author: This is my first long work in English so please be kind since it’s not my first language. Michael Gavey save me. Wrote it cuz I recently rewatched Saltburn with my mum and her reactions were absolutely hilarious. Also i don't know shit about math so if I'll make any mistake in that kind of stuff please just ignore.

divider credit: @uzmacchiato

It wasn't like Michael actually expected the invite to lay beautifully in his letterbox. He wasn't popular. He in fact was everything but that. With awkward personality, nerdy attitude and his well known dislike towards other students.

But he couldn't help to be petty about it. He was a student of Oxford after all. A good one if not the best. Michael liked to put himself on top, liked to look down at people. He felt like the worst and the best of all of them at the same time.

Oliver didn't seem to care about the invite, he just blankly looked around the library when Gavey told him neither of them received anything. But it was still Oliver who 'went' to the party. He was sitting there, locked in the spare room, alone with only pool table. He was desperately trying to make himself seen, popular and liked. Like a leach he wanted to have more than he was destined to have.

And if not for the lack of invite to the Christmas Party of his own college Michael would think he has everything he needs. A good marks, a 'friend' if he could even label Oliver like that, a peace and quiet. He was doing math at one of the oldest, best and most popular colleges in United Kingdoms.

The only thing that could piss him off was you. Felix Catton's younger sister. With the hair as fluffy and as dark as your brother's but eyes brighter than his. In your mother's or father's color, Michael was often thinking about them while sitting in the class.

Class he unfortunately had to share with you. What were you even doing there? In math class. In his class.

Course wasn't filled with many girls. Just you, one red head freak and a girl that Michael believed couldn't do times table, what was utterly pathetic for him.

And it wasn't like you needed a degree. You had the status, the prestige, ‘Catton’ that followed after your name and a fucking castle. The amount of money you had could keep you, your future children and many generations after them safe from even moving a finger.

You were always sitting in library with wired earphones in your ears, too far and music too quiet for Michael to hear what you were listening to. Always with your head down, gaze focused yet tired like doing all those math examples drained you from all your energy. And Michael couldn't stop watching you from behind his glasses. His pale blue eyes scanning over every mole on your cheeks and the way the dark circles made your eyes stand out even move. The loose strands that fell from your bun when you were leaning over your notebook before quiet tapping on the calculator could be heard if Gavey listened close enough.

You were so different from Felix and Farleigh. And if not the name or the fact that despise spending most of your days in library and classes everyone knew who you are, he would maybe consider you something more than a spoiled brat.

He didn't really liked your family. Rich, entitled pricks. Your brother? horrible. Farleigh? Even fucking worse.

Good that he didn't have to deal with them. It was just Oliver who had to go through your cousin's biting remarks and snarky comments. And Michael would be free from Catton family if not for you. The bane of his existence.

You.

Even now. Your were sitting on the other side of the table, with a lamp lighted up and casting a golden glow on your cheeks that were - as he observed - way paler than right after summer. That's natural after all. Yet he couldn't help but wonder how it would feel like to smooth over the skin of them with his knuckles... or see how they would look when your lips would be wrapped around him. With your eyes up on him, hands propped on his thighs and how hard he would grip your locks.

The shame ate him alive every time he caught himself thinking about you like that. Imagining you, in his dorm, in your dorm or even in a fucking library. Here. Now.

God he couldn't believe how pathetic he was.

He looked from his notebook to you. A soft glow cast on your face, the unchanging, focused gaze and this weird stillness as you sat on one of the chairs near him. What you were doing here? Your brother was enjoying the party, drinking, smoking, flirting. The music was probably blasting and there were bodies rubbing against each other. And you were... here. In the library. In a disgustingly quiet library with him, alone. And if not the earphones connected to your phone with the thin wire you could hear every sharp and uncomfortable inhale from Michael, when he tried to not make all the fantasies and images that made him turn in his bed at night, flow back into his mind.

Not when you were sitting right there instead of acting like he think every Catton did.

His grip of the pen tightened when your phone rung filling the silence in the library. His jaw clenched and gaze raised at you when hurriedly picked up.

“I’m in the library what do you want?” You asked quietly as if ashamed of ruining the quietness of the moment.

He didn’t mean to listen… but how could he not when you were sitting there alone and the only sounds were annoying grumbling of your brother through the phone.

“I’m not coming to the party I’m studying” you mumbled before rolling your eyes at the faint words of Felix.

“Don’t tell Farleigh or he’ll come here and force me to go and drink with him.” His irritation only spiked when you mentioned his cousin. “Felix, stop I’m not—“

“Could you not?” Michael’s words came out unexpectedly and even he wasn’t sure if they left his lips or if it was just his mind playing jokes at him.

Your mouth was agape as the gaze of your eyes raised to him. You looked as surprised as he was.

“I’ll see you.” You only said before hanging up and putting your phone down. “Sorry…”

His heart rate fastened and Michael wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t add some rude comment.

“I know you’re an entitled brat but rules apply even to you” he replied and his eyes narrowed l.

“I already said I’m sorry” you said feeling your irritation spiking. “If you can’t focus on math with sounds that quiet maybe you’re not as good as you think you are” you scoffed and cringed immediately at the words that sounded all too familiar to Farleigh.

"I'm a genius" he said and take a sharp inhale.

"Bet you are Gavey."

This surprised him. How did you knew his name? You were on the same course, yes. You spoke few times, yes. A short meaningless questions for a task results or to borrow a pen. He didn't think you would know his name. Something strange blossomed in his chest. A warm feeling mixed with unease. People never knew his name.

"Ask me a sum then"

"I'm not asking you a sum Gavey." you said and your hand moved to put the earphones back in your ears.

"You're scared I'm right?" he asked scoffing. He really was acting like a brat. Maybe that's why people didn't bother to remember his name. Maybe that's why you did.

"I'm not sc-"

"Then ask me a sum."

You two shared a glance. No, it was way too long for just a glance. You looked into his blue eyes hid behind those nerdy looking glasses. Jesus Christ. Why did he had to sit here, looking like that, bothering you to ask him a stupid sum. You should really ask Felix to start inviting him into those parties so you wouldn't have to sit here with him alone like that. A sharp inhale from you and not even a bother to pull out a calculator.

"Nine times nine." you said seriously; it wasn't serious. Just to make him a bit more mad.

"Oh that's a child's play." he scoffed crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair. Your face was serious, waiting for an answer. Damn you. "Eighty one" he rolled his eyes.

"Times eighty one?"

"Six thousand and five hundred sixty one."

"Times nine?"

"Fifty nine thousands and forty nine"

"Times six thousand and five hundred sixty one?"

"Three hundred eight seven milion, four thousands twenty and four hundred eighty nine"

Michael Gavey - you have to be studied.

You scoffed shaking your head slightly.

"Told you." he said calmly. Oh god what a wonderful feeling it was. His arrogance was spiking and you feed his ego like crazy.

"You could just make those numbers up." you said leaning back in your own seat.

"Why would I?"

"Because you're a liar."

"I'm a genius."

You gave him a look before stubbornly pulling out the calculator and then shortly after the fast taps on the buttons. Then a scoff. Michael smirked and his gaze from the papers in front of him to you. Your face was serious and irritated and you bit your inner cheek. Another habit of yours for him to learn about. Then another scoff from you.

"You have to get diagnosed by some fucking doctor, Gavey." you said and moved the calculator away.

"I don't know if being a genius is a sickness" he said and fixed his glasses.

"But you're not" you said irritated. You wanted to win this argument. That didn't worked. So you can at least make him mad.

"We just proved I am, didn't we darling?"

What just came over him? His mouth closed and he wasn't even sure his brain registered the words. And you stared. Not like others. Not like he was some creep or a loser. Your gaze was surprised - not shocked. - just surprised.

And Michael was just as surprised as you were apparently.

"A genius huh?" you said but he could clearly tell that your tone was different. He wasn't stupid after all. He heard the previous softness in it - the one he snapped at when you apologized to him. "help me with that then."

Oh. God.

No. Yes.

Oh.

God.

Micheal swallowed looking as you gather your things quickly to come and sit at the seat on his left. He was sitting by the top of the table. Like always. Not like it wasn't the main part of library. Rather a calm one - where people didn't come to. Or only to make out - what Micheal was unfortunate to see.

Oh. God.

"Y-yeah sure." he said and swallowed again. You raised an eyebrow at his slight stutter. Fuck. "Yeah sure." he collected himself stopping himself from undoing the top button of his shirt.

He suddenly became super aware that he looked like someone's grandpa. Shirt buttoned to the top, sweater on that and that stupid ass haircut he gave himself after he got irritated the brown strands of hair started getting under his glasses. And here were you - dressed into a sweater too, but in the cool way. How in the hell did you managed to look cool and nerdy at the same time? Felix looked only cool, Farleigh looked like some twink and here were you. Looking beautiful in random clothes you threw on to library and in this half up-half down hairstyle you did when hair started getting into your eyes. Because it wasn't like you could just cut it like he did.

"You get it?" you asked laying the pencil down on the wooden desk.

Oh fuck, you were telling him something. He glanced over the task. It couldn't be easier.

"Yes, I'll do it for you." he said mindlessly grabbing your pencil.

"No!... no, can you just explain it?" you asked and he frowned.

"I'm not some tutor." he muttered not sparring you a glance.

"I can pay you 50 pounds." you said like it was nothing, of course it was nothing for you. The Catton in your name could buy anything.

"I don't want your money."

"What is so hard in explain what you're doing?"

He could do it. It wouldn't be a problem for him. He explained things to people before; for example when his little cousins needed help with something.

"Fine" he said and sighed

Your chair moved and your arms pressed again as you leaned on your hand listening to what he will say and he could feel his cock throbbing slightly.

Woman in the name of all that's holy, what are you doing? Move the fuck away.

He inhaled. Get it together.

"It's very easy" he said and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before fixing his glasses.

Oh god someone save you.

How could he just sit here all sweet and nervous and cute? Looking like he is waiting for someone to just devour him.

And he smelled good too. Like a nerd to be honest. A bit like the library, but you could smell a bit of the after shave. Yeah it have to be that. Your gaze wandered from the paper to give him a side glance, His face looked smooth, he always looked clean, neat. With his hair cut in a silly way and nice looking clothes. If not the top button it would even look really good.

You crossed your legs nodding slightly to pretend you're listening. Jesus Christ his jaw. And his nose.

Jesus Christ his nose.

"Now. Understand?" he asked turning his head to you.

Shit now he'll know you're staring.

"Y-yeah." you nodded. "It's really easy." you added as it would convince both him and you.

You could feel his breath on your face from how close you were.

"Y-you... you want something in exchange for tutoring?" you asked swallowing. "I can get you into one of Felix's parties if you want."

"No." he said seriously and leaned back in his seat looking at the papers seriously. "I don't want to be anywhere close to your stupid brother and idiot cousin." he scoffed.

"Is there something I can do? I don't like to be anyone's debt."

God those big Babmi eyes of you. Michael swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

'Is there something I can do?'

YES. Go down on me or I'll die.

"No we're good... as long as you won't take calls in the library or at least next to me." he said and crossed his legs too hiding his hardening cock. Thank god the light was dim and table let him mask easily.

"I can do that."

God your obedience. How sweet you looked. Like some goddamn bunny or another stupid doe.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

God save you. What have Michael Gavey done to you? The smart Catton, with a brain turned into mush because of a dork, you're trying to get your guts rearranged by. And he probably didn't even know where clit is. Let's be fucking honest, Michael having sex it's not something this world has experienced.

"Can I still give you something?" you asked and your cheeks grew pink.

"If you must." he scoffed rolling his eyes.

Your lips pressed to his fast and hard. His eyes widened as he froze for a moment. His heart thumped as his brain was still proceeding what the fuck was happening. Do. Something. Dumbass.

His hand went up just to stop right above the skin of your cheek and his lips tried to move in sync with yours affecting in pretty sloppy and clumsy kiss. His first kiss.

Michael pulled away to inhale looking at you in shock, before quickly fixing his glasses.

Oh. Fuck.

You looked at him and inhaled too, your mouth slightly agape before his hand pulled you to crash his lips against yours, this time way more desperately.

A clumsy kiss with the nerd Michael Gavey turned into messy making out in the corner of library. Like all those people he despised for interfering with library's peace.

"You should really start being invited to those parties." you breathed pulling slightly away to look at those blue eyes.

"Fuck the parties." he shook his head frowning at you, before his nose bumped slightly into yours and his eyes went to your mouth.

Oh how desperate he looked. Like a needy brat finding the most tasty candy of his life. Michael Gavey the pathetic man you are.

"What do you want to do?" you swallowed feeling his breath on you cheek.

"We can go back..." to his dorm. "... to doing the task?"

You raised your eyebrow looking at him. What the fuck? Did the past seven minutes of making out and having his tongue in your mouth happened or not?

"Or... you can... kiss me some more?" he added, his gaze pleading. "...please?"

A man who yearns is the man that earns. Or... something like that.

"Sounds... like a good plan" you nodded smiling slightly.

His lips pressed against you again. And you were never more happy about skipping a party to go study at the library. His lips were soft and his cupid bow prominent, easily felt under your own mouth. The kiss was greedy, more wanting, more needing than those from before. Not quite desperate as you would think Michael could get but not lazy either.

You pulled away slightly to tilt your head down and rub your lips together inhaling before hesitating for a moment. Deep breaths of Michael reached your ears, the way his body trembled slightly and his glasses were a little bit crocked. He almost followed as you stopped the kiss, pleading for more.

When your lips reconnected a second later, you slipped onto his lap and got surprised by a shocked gasp. His eyes widened and hands squeezed on the armrests as if he were too scared to touch you.

And his hard length was pressed into your inner thigh.

Good Lord.

You tried not to move too much, not to cause him any discomfort or made an effort to somehow let him know you felt it. It was as if your senses decided to focus not on the bulge straining against his pants but his lips on yours.

But God. With every soft twitch your knickers were getting wetter and wetter by your arousal and the desperate need to move even so slightly, to release some tension and simply slide over his thigh was almost unbearable.

His nose bumped against yours and you pulled away again to rest your forehead on his and inhale trying to calm down and somehow downplay the coiling feeling in your stomach.

"You're-"

"I'm so sorry." he said gasping.

Sorry? Sorry for what? For making you want to be fucked on the library's table? Or to suck on what's hiding under those pants?

"Don't apologize dumbass." you frowned looking at his red yet slightly startled face. "Just let me-"

"No."

Your hand stopped midair to his zipper and your eyes went to his as you straightened on his lap.

"Let me... I want to..." he inhaled

Oh god he was adorable. His expression boyish and cheeks pink just like the tips of his ears and maybe another tip too.

Not as adorable when he pushed you up on the table earning a surprised gasp from those lips he was savouring seconds ago. Not as adorable when his; shy at first, hands went to the hem of your pants. To pull on the button, undo the zipper and finally tug onto jeans making them slide off to ankles leaving you sprawled on the table, shocked and wet.

"Pink?" he scoffed quietly, his attitude returning as he glanced at your panties; pink with small bow at the front and very noticeable darker spot where your legs met.

"Shut up." you said only letting your head rest on the table.

"Only if you let me make my mouth busy." how did Michael Gavey, the awkward nerd from Oxford know how talk like that.

Your breath hitched and his fingers worked pushing the soaked fabric to the side. Your cunt was glistening with arousal, lips pink and slightly swollen. He definitely wasn't adorable when he lowered himself between your legs, to lap at your sweet little cunt with uncertainness visible in his moves.

His tongue licked over your opening, inhaling surprised at the taste. It was like nothing he ever had in his life. Because he clearly never done that to a girl.

It could be felt with how unsure his tongue is, how careful, yet you didn't miss how his hands squeezed on your thighs, making them look small in his grip. As if he tried to suppress the need to lap like he was starving; maybe he was.

Your eyes closed at the oh how ironic so shy yet so dirty sensation, before you moved your hips slightly; just enough to guide him higher. A high pitched moan let him know he found what he needed. Your hand covered your mouth quickly as if to try and cover the sound you just let slip involuntarily and those you made when his lips sucked and tongue rolled over your clit. Your cheeks burned as he focused at the bud and his chin grazed over your slit making it glistening with your juices.

Gods how sweet you tasted. Michael could die and go to heaven at this moment. Your little moans, muffled so badly by your hand echoed between the bookshelves made his already hard cock leak some pre-cum on the fabric of his boxers. He was going crazy, imagining how angrily pink his tip must be, how he was twitching every time you rolled your hips over his mouth thinking he doesn't feel it. If he touched himself now he would probably; to his embarrassment, nut at the spot. He lapped on your cunt, his hands squeezed on your thighs, only leaving the flesh to fix his glasses.

Oh God he's gonna die.

He watched with big eyes as your thighs trembled slightly, chest rose rapidly and... oh lord, your hand quickly making it's way to his hair to gently tug and pull at the fair strands, directing him to closer to you as his tongue worked rapidly, still unsure of it's actions.

Now you were desperate and needy. He made you act like that.

His glasses fogged up from the heat between your bodies and his own deep, warm breath blew on your glistening cunt. His tongue was parting your folds from time to time and his mouth sucked at the swollen bud hungrily.

You pulled yourself up to look down on him. Your eyes fell upon his flushed cheeks, nose bumping against your flesh, his puppy eyes looking up at you desperately and hands holding onto your thighs as if his life depended on it. His nails dug into your flesh as you tugged harder at his hair when you felt the tension in your stomach ready to snap.

“Fuck—“ you mumbled squeezing your eyes shut. “Michael.”

His eyes widen as he looked up at you. At your blush, at your trembling thighs, at your hand squeezed on his hair. He felt your orgasm on his tongue, the sweet, sweet release. He made you cum. He. Michael Gavey ate out Felix’s younger sister.

He moved away as your grip relaxed, pulling himself up. His eyes wandered up at the blush on your cheeks, trembling of your thighs, rise of your chest. His gaze was hazed. Pleading. Mouth open, gasping for air and chin dripping with your release.

Oh god he looked so pretty.

When your hand fell from his head on his cheek he melted. His grip on your thigh let go leaving behind red marks that will sure turn into bruises tomorrow. His hands wandered to pull back your panties on before your hand stopped him and frown bloomed on your face. It’s not like you haven’t seen his dick straining against the fabric of his pants, it’s wasn’t hard to miss when you were standing between your parted legs.

“What are you doing?” Your tone almost accusatory made him pause with your panties half in way to cover you again.

“I’m—“

“I thought we’re having sex” you said when your thumb moved to wipe his off your release.

His lips parted slightly as he looked at you. Shocked and flushed embarrassed at the realization that dawned over him.

“I’m… not gonna last” he swallowed leaning closer making your noses almost bump together.

He was reluctant yet needy. So needy and desperate, to feel you around him, the warmth, the wetness he always imagined while jerking off in his dorm.

“It’s okay I already came.” his gaze snapped up to your eyes shocked at your words.

“Are you sure?”

A small nod that you gave him was all it took for him to start tugging at his belt quickly as his lips crashed against yours impatiently. A quiet whine fell right into his mouth as you tasted your own release on his tongue. It was weird this connection you shared, the quiet, desperate need to just continue kissing him as if his dick wasn't throbbing in his pants and your own pants weren't hanging from your ankles.

Michael was shy now as he moved away to reposition between your legs. Vulnerable at freshly given consent or more. Assurance. You with your sweet eyes made him safe and comfortable, despise the fact that he surely won't make you cum like that. Few pumps and he'll be done. Embarrassing really. But not now, not to him. Not when you let him so close to you already, only to agree to let him even closer.

The movements of his hands were careful; one squeezed on your waist carefully, the other pulled your panties to the side before getting his length out of his boxers.

He was long but not thick. With a vein running underside and this pretty cherry pink tip.

"Pink?" you asked innocently as to taunt him for his earlier teasing.

He inhaled shakily looking at you. "You fucking tease" he grumbled shaking his head.

"Just asking"

"Please, do shut up"

Your mouth opened yet again, but this time instead of words a surprised moan left them. As he pressed between your folds. Michael's eyes squeezed shut at the warmth and wetness caused by your previous orgasm. It was better than he imagined, soft and slightly tight from the muscles still being strained. It was way better than when he was fucking his hand. Better than anything he imagined. He watched as your hands fell from his face to grip at the edge of the table as he moved slowly trying to prolong the whole experience. Your whiny breaths echoed in his ears as he dropped his head on your shoulder, nose nudging the side of your neck.

You felt him moving within, the trembling inexperienced movements getting faster with each second bringing him to the edge and making you curl your toes as the sensitivity from earlier release haven't worn off yet. You pressed your cheek to his head as he once again squeezed the flesh on your hips probably adding bruises to those soon blooming on your thighs.

"Fuck-." he mumbled, his panting against your skin causing a shiver to run down your spine. "You feel so absolutely fucking amazing."

"Michael-." A quiet moan left your mouth when you felt him pressing against the spongy spot inside and your thighs squeezed on his hips. "Just-... fuck... right there."

"It's good?"

"It's amazing." you mumbled and your hand sneaked up into his hair again. "You're so good, so good for me."

A quiet praise, small and innocent, mumbled into his hair caused him to held onto you tightly as his cock twitched, releasing the warm robes of cum. He pulled out quickly cursing under his breath, his release coated your insides, then folds and clit with white spend. His fingers curled on your hip as he watched his softening cock resting between your thighs.

"I'm- so sorry." he mumbled straightening up slightly.

"It's fine." your assurance made his heart melt again as he stand there, feeling guilty and looking like the scolded puppy. "I'll buy a pill tomorrow morning."

You heard the sharp inhale and saw the guilty nod before he released your hips. Your own hand fell from his hair to pull him into kiss by the collar of his shirt. It was delicate, calming after all that just happened, comforting. You let him run his hand up and down your waist, bump his nose against your with each kiss.

You pulled your panties back from the side still following the rhythm of his mouth until quiet and a little wobbly steps interrupted the peaceful moment. Your eyes snapped open and you pulled away from the kiss listening as Michael readjusted his boxers quickly.

"Wrap it up, you fucking nerd." Farleigh's voice came from afar and your cursed under your breath. "Came to pick you up, we have to find Felix-."

Fucking Farleigh, fucking Felix.

Michael clenched his jaw, the quiet and comforting atmosphere was brutally ended by your cousin and he never, never wanted to strangle Start more than now. Even more when you moved quickly pulling on your pants. He stood there with lips parted as you just let his cum dry on you skin and inside.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." you said looking at him with embarrassment and regret. "I didn't think he'll come here."

Michael nodded silently buttoning his pants again as if nothing has happened. "It's fine" he mumbled and your heart shattered, it wasn't fine. It was very much not fine.

"Just... find me on Facebook alright?" you said and you eyes went to cup his cheek before inhaling.

God how embarrassing it was.

"Y-yeah... I... I'll find you." he mumbled quietly fixing his glasses.

"I'm so sorry." You hands quickly gathered the things laying on the table, like you haven't been just fucked on it few minutes ago.

You'll fucking kill Farleigh.

"Promise you'll text me." you added before hurriedly pressing your lips to his.

He moaned quietly into your lips, closing his eyes momentary. Your hand involuntarily went back to his cheek and you gasped as his hand desperately clenched on your sweater, tugging you slightly towards him, not wanting to let go, not yet. Just a bit longer, just to bask in the afterglow just a moment more.

"Promise." he nodded as your breath mixed together.

You nodded back smiling again. "Good." you inhaled before pecking his lips again and grabbing the rest of your stuff, as Farleigh's steps were getting closer and closer.

You shared the last glance before you disappeared behind the bookcases and then he could calmly exhale starting to slowly process what just happened. The messy kisses, the lingering taste of you still on his tongue and the best fucking feeling of your cunt being wrapped around his cock.

Michael he could die a happy man now.

Could. If he hadn't promised you something.

His trembling hands went to his phone and opened the app at the same moment scrolling through the Cattons.

Felix Catton. No.

Venetia Catton. No?

There you were.

Quickly he tapped add and with blush on his cheeks and ragged breath.

Just to see a notification from you mere seconds later.

He could die a happy man now.

autor note: this chapter is short and kind of shit (especially end, i got lazy). When i started writing this I didn't even think about turning it in the series and the idea popped in my head when i had like half of it written. So... next chapters will hopefully be longer and better lmaoo.

#michael gavey x reader #saltburn #michael gavey #hotd #hot nerds #Maria writes ✍️#michael gavey fanfiction #Michael Gavey smut

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prettymfwrites · 7 months ago

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CaitVi Streamer Headcanons

Streamer Caitlyn x Streamer Vi x female Reader Headcanons

1. Streamer Chaos

Caitlyn’s streams are polished, focused, and often tactical, whether she’s dominating in FPS games or discussing strategies with her chat. She’s the analytical one, always reading her opponents and responding gracefully, even in defeat.

Vi, on the other hand, streams pure chaos. She’s loud, competitive, and incredibly reactive to the highs and lows of her games. Her stream often involves a lot of trash-talking, slamming the desk (lightly), and sometimes standing up mid-game to shout at the screen.

You? You’re their grounding force, occasionally wandering between the two setups to bring snacks, drinks, or calm them down when a particularly intense game has them riled up.

2. Cute Interactions on Stream

Sometimes, you appear on Vi’s stream just to egg her on. “Babe, Cait’s gonna destroy you again if you keep rushing in like that,” you tease, leaning into her frame.

Caitlyn's chat loves seeing you pop into her stream because you always bring a sense of calm. You’ll hand her a cup of tea or sneak a kiss to her cheek, prompting Caitlyn’s infamous deadpan: “Don’t let Vi see this,she might cry.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stream together, their streams are full of back-and-forth banter, playful insults, and moments of teamwork that go hilariously wrong. You’re often caught in the crossfire when they drag you into their antics.

3. Dinner Drama

After Caitlyn utterly demolishes Vi in an intense round of Apex Legends, Vi refuses to speak. You bring dinner to the table, trying not to laugh at her overdramatic huffs and pouts.

Caitlyn doesn’t help, though. She casually asks for a dinner roll, knowing full well it’ll set Vi off. As predicted, Vi flings the roll at Caitlyn, who dodges dramatically before laughing and picking it up. “You missed, sweetheart.”

Caitlyn leans over Vi’s chair, wrapping her arms around her and pressing teasing kisses to her cheek. “I can’t believe you let this unhinged mongoose beat you,” she murmurs, her tone dripping with amusement. Vi tries to hold back a smile, but her mumbled “shut up” only makes you both giggle harder.

4. Protective Moments

Vi’s chat can get rowdy, and while most fans adore your presence, there’s always a troll or two who makes snide comments about you. The first time it happens, Vi is not having it. She stops her game mid-round, fixes her camera with a death glare, and goes on a fiery rant about respecting her girlfriend.

Caitlyn, however, handles trolls differently. She’ll casually ban them without a second thought, coolly saying, “You’re clearly not here for the right reasons. Bye.” Her chat cheers her on every time.

You feel so loved by how fiercely they both protect you, though you often tell them not to worry about the comments. “They’re just jealous they don’t get dinner rolls thrown at them by Vi,” you joke.

5. Competitive Chaos

When Vi loses a game to Caitlyn (which happens often), she’ll dramatically collapse into your lap while you’re sitting nearby, whining, “Why are you with her when she’s such a bully?”

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through her hair. Caitlyn, from her desk, will smirk and say, “Because I bring her snacks and don’t break my keyboard after every loss.”

One time, Vi gets so worked up after losing three matches in a row that she challenges Caitlyn to a physical game of Mario Kart. You end up being the neutral referee, though you mostly just laugh as Vi leans so far into the turns she nearly falls off the couch.

6. Sweet Moments Behind the Scenes

After an exhausting stream, the three of you cuddle up on the couch. Caitlyn leans against your shoulder while Vi sprawls across both of you. Despite their competitive nature on stream, they’re both soft with you, taking turns to kiss your temple and thank you for always being there for them.

On Caitlyn’s birthday stream, you and Vi plan a surprise. Mid-stream, you burst into her room with a cake and balloons, and her normally calm demeanor breaks into pure joy. The chat floods with hearts as she pulls both of you into a hug, her headset awkwardly bumping against your face.

7. Dealing With the Drama

The three of you sit down together to discuss handling fan toxicity when it flares up. Caitlyn insists on stricter moderation rules, while Vi wants to call out every disrespectful fan by name.

“Babe, you can’t go to war with every troll,” Caitlyn tells Vi, amused.

“Watch me,” Vi responds, though she eventually agrees that focusing on the positive outweighs feeding into the negativity.

8. Fan Favorites

Fans adore how much Caitlyn and Vi clearly love you. Compilations of the three of you interacting flood YouTube and TikTok, with titles like "Cutest Streamer Trio Moments!"

Your favorite clip? The time Caitlyn leaned over to kiss Vi after a win, only for you to pop up in the background and say, “Forgetting something?” Both of them immediately pulled you into frame for kisses, and the chat exploded with comments about how lucky you all were to have each other.

---------

I take requests!

#vi x caitlyn #caitvi #vi x reader #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi imagines #arcane #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #league of lesbians #caitlyn fanfic #arcane imagine #arcane fanfic #arcane headcanon #vi x caitlyn x reader #polyamory #gxg imagine #vi x you

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kanmom51 · 7 months ago

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Jikook came home

God, how I missed this.

How I miss them!!

Before getting into the whole JM post followed by the cute-flirty interaction that followed, I will take this opportunity in congratulating both JM and JK for their MAMA awards achievements.

JM winning Daesang fans choice of the year.🎉🎉

JK winning top 10 fans choice, best male artist and best dance performance (SNTY).🎉🎉

JM being the sweetheart that he is came to us with a lengthy post to thank Army for voting and receiving a Daesang.

There are a couple of nuanced differences in some of the translations, but all in all, they are pretty much on the same page.

The main difference I've seen is the translation of this part:

벙벙 벙벙 벙벙벙벙벙

Being it "dumbfounded" or "stunned" or "bemused".

I think this probably captures it best:

And then we had JK....

Who was most likely sitting there right by JM's side, the speed of their back and forth being one of the indications to that (we are talking within seconds here), not to mention patterns of past behaviour with those two.

Do we discuss for a second the Weverse translation of the discussion?

Like wtf? 🤣🤣

Ok, so the actual translation would be:

Insert the word of bemusement of your choice I guess, lol. But basically we have JM telling us he's stunned/dumbfounded and mainly happy and then that back and forth between those two right in front of our salads.

Oh, and can someone explain the @JK to me please? I mean, I get JM @JK -ing when posting his replies, but why the hell is JK @JK -ing when posting his replies to JM?🤣🤣

The way those two keep doing this shit (in such a good way, may I add) is just absolutely and utterly hilarious.

This whole exchange gives me these vibes:

And Idk why, but this interaction came straight to mind as well when I saw this back and forth between them...

Take those two and combine them and then picture that in mind with this back and forth going on:

Oh, and do I mention that obviously they had access to Internet, enough to have this back and forth between them, while both in the same place, and JK preferring to flirt in our faces with JM rather than post himself about his wins, which I can assure you he knew of. You know how it is when you don't want to take away from your boyfriend's thunder...

Maybe we'll hear from him later on maybe not, but this was about JM, his win, his moment, his post, his excitement.

And JK CANNOT miss out on a little teasing-flirtatious banter with his man, now can he?

Let's back track for one moment, because I do want to talk about JM inserting JK into his post. I do believe this is going to be a new standard/constant/reality. You know, the "me and JK"/ "JK and I" or "me and JM"/"JM and I". That very natural way of inserting one another in their interactions/conversations with us. Now, don't get me wrong, this is not a new thing what so ever. They have been doing this since forever. But I do think that it's going to become more of a constant and less of a "OMG, he mentioned JK/JM" moment for us. They have shown us for years, but more so over the past year, just how important they are to each other, but even more so, just how intertwined their lives are with one another. They literally could not even part ways to do their military service!! Choosing to spend those 18 months together, even if it meant having to endure much harsher conditions and a much more difficult service as a whole. All to be able to be together. With each other. What I'm saying is that I do think we will be getting so much more of "US" from those two.

Openly and proudly.

US.

One last thing, and again this is either Jikook coincidence or kismet or maybe not too much of a coincidence and more of a conscious decision, but JM's post yesterday, 23 Nov 2024, was posted on the year mark of Jikook leaving for their oh so very special and emotionally charged Japan trip, 23 Nov 2023.

💜💜💜

Coincidence or not, we got Jikook back then, and after radio silence from those two for such a long time, we got Jikook yesterday again!!!

#Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #JunJi #Jungkook #jimin #JK #JM

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berksozeri · 2 years ago

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Berk couldn't have anticipated how much relief flooded his system the second she uttered those words. "Thanks. I, uh, really do appreciate it." For a moment there he almost expected her to pull a neon sign out of her purse and start waving it around, screaming 'free throws!' until Abby noticed.

Because the likelihood of that was realistic.

He cracked a wider smile, and unleashed a more noticeable laugh— either at the track of his own thoughts or the idea of using her (what was she, 5'2", 5'3"?) as a human shield.

"Nah, nothing like that. I swear if she got close enough to maim I'd man up and take it before ever lettin' someone else get hurt in my place."

Dark eyes cast behind them again, a quick reassurance that she wasn't actually on her way to pitch that latte, and then he kept on down the road. "I'm just hoping if she'd heading in the same direction she'll be less likely to start something if I'm not alone."

Over the last several weeks he'd noticed a pattern. Whether it was because he brought out an uncharacteristically vindictive side in her, or she was just that good at hiding her true colors, Abby only seemed inclined to give him a what for when nobody else was around to play witness.

"Soon as I'm in the clear you're good to go."

Although he still hadn't grabbed that coffee or that lunch. The belated reminder struck a new thought. "Unless you're hungry? I'll probably head to the diner, and I'm happy to buy you some fries or... something. For helpin' me out." ( @phoebeyates )

She couldn’t lie, it was quite funny to watch this man explain himself without trying to offend her. Phoebe raised a brow, glancing over at the woman with her crossed wires. To Phoebe, she didn’t seem like someone who had any grudges, but then again, she also had her moments where it was tempting to throw a hot drink into someone’s face, so for now she gave this man the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ll help,” She promised, offering him an easy smile. And truthfully, even though Asli wouldn’t mind - used to her tardiness by now - it would keep her out of the museum for a bit. An exciting place for most, sure, but not for someone who had 28 years of TV brain rot. A little quest like this seemed fun. “What do you need me to do? And don’t say be the human shield for the coffee throw, because burns are super not fun.”

@berksozeri

#❝ interactions.#❝ filed under — phoebe yates.#i find it utterly hilarious how intimidated he is by her for literally no reason at all #also idk why i can't ever just shut up but pls ignore the length. like. always not just rn lol

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softlypaintedseafoam · 2 months ago

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women's wrongs

synopsis. sanji is a supporter of many things, women's wrongs being one of them. he just wasn't expecting women's wrong opinions to be among them; the cook supposes there is a first time for everything.

pairing. roronoa zoro x f!reader

word count. 1k | masterlist

content warning. written with a plus-sized reader in mind (but read as you prefer), pre-timeskip (post-little garden/pre-drum island), presently unrequited feelings (zoro has feelings for luffy as of this moment in time), usonami and lusan undertones if you squint

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a fic that was hilarious inspired by my conversations with @hash-slinging-slasher-trash about her selfship verse with zoro and i couldn't resist writing it. i find it hilarious that depending on the verse, sanji and/or zoro judge for who you have feelings for but try to be supportive in their own way and thus this story was birthed

Conflicted doesn't begin to cover the expression on Sanji's face.

Conflicted, disturbed, confused and utterly full of disbelief. Those words combined probably summarize his expression best and even then you feel as if a new word should be invented entirely to describe it. You bury your face into your hands, ears hot. "The mosshead," Sanji asks, incredulous.

You nod, face even warmer.

"Mosshead." He says again, voice weak from your confirmation he unfortunately heard you correctly.

You nod once again.

This is all a mess. Here in his kitchen while he preps for tomorrow's breakfast, Vivi stands watch, Luffy and Zoro sleep and Usopp cares for an ailing Nami you know you have found yourself in a hot mess. You're sure when Sanji asked you "a berry for your thoughts?" that this was the least likely confession he expected to receive. Yet it all came flowing from your lips like a dam bursting through a crack.

"I have feelings for Zoro," you squeaked in a fluid motion, fingers clutching the tea cup Sanji gave you for dear life.

"My condolences," Sanji grumbles, equal parts empathy and pity sketched into his face.

You can't hold back a snort despite yourself. "Sanji."

As if remembering his chivalry, the cook stands straight at attention. "Forgive me, my lady, I only meant," the blond pauses, gathering his thoughts at speeds unknown to man. "Respectfully, the man who has caught your attention-"

"Is in love with Luffy, I know," you groan as you remember this oh-so-important fact. "Trust me, I am very aware of that fact." It's hard not to notice. When you initially joined the Straw Hats, you thought Zoro a stoic yet battle-hungry bounty hunter turned pirate who seldom showed how he felt. As it turns out, the swordsman is rather expressive save for how his face solemn and irritated when at rest. Zoro emotes quite often, in truth.

Zoro laughs when he's amused.

Zoro grins when he teases.

Zoro even pouts when you point out he should have noticed he was lost three tree loops ago.

You can feel your lips twisting into a smile in spite of your dilemma and do your best to fight it. Then you remember a flash of yellow and red, bright like sunshine and your smile falls as quickly as it started. Yes, Pirate Hunter Zoro is very expressive, you realized quickly.

For a ー former ー noble, such as yourself, you're not used to seeing love in its truest and most pure form. Your parents' marriage had been arranged by your grandparents, your parents merely had you to maintain the status quo and any match you'd find would be a man they approved of and would help you produce quality stock to continue the bloodline.

Vivi's lucky, you think of your fellow princess who is happily tucked away in a blanket on the crows nest doing her part. Her parents loved each other and they love her. Even her servants adored her so. Your heart aches as its strings are tugged. Luffy's lucky too.

He receives love as easily as he gifts it, even to those he doesn't know very well. He makes you feel like he's been your best friend for your entire life, despite having only met nearly a month prior. You'll always appreciate him for that and you know you are not the only member of the crew who feels this way. You all love and appreciate Luffy, some of you more than others.

Zoro more than others. His gaze lingers when he sees Luffy barreled over into himself as he laughs at whatever tall tale Usopp has weaved.

He smiles when Luffy makes his silly faces.

If you hadn't known better, you would think Zoro believes in Luffy more than he does himself.

Monkey D. Luffy is the sun; you're not even the moon.

"No," Sanji sets down his knife on his cutting board and presses his hands firmly on the dinner table. "That bum wants a man who picks his nose. In public! You can't have feelings for someone like that; I won't allow it. Besides, any clown who is in love with Luffy over a literal princess isn't worth anyone's time, let alone yours."

You're giggling again as you shake your head, "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better but you don't have to do it at Luffy's expense. He's a great guy to fall in love with. He's sweet." Loud and selfish but he's somehow sweet and selfless for it.

"He's fine," Sanji makes a face, shrugging. "He'd be better if he stopped breaking into the fridge every other night." Blue eyes look pointedly at the five giant mouse traps set around it, prepared once more for their war with the captain. You shake your head in amusement.

He complains but I think he secretly likes it. At least, if how Sanji smiles at Luffy in exasperation every meal time is anything to go off of. Sanji brow furrows when you tell him as much. "You can make that face all you want but you like how much likes your food."

Had you been one of your crew's male counterparts, you're sure Sanji would have scoffed at your words. Since you are not, he can't find it in himself to protest. "It's the least he can do if he is going to eat us out of house and home," he murmurs, mostly to himself, with a quiet huff. "You'd think he'd never eaten all his life with how he scarfs it all down, the shitty rubberman." He rests his hands on his hips with a sigh, finally relenting.

You grin at your small victory.

"I guess there are technically worse choices for the barbarian swordsman could have gone with," Sanji shakes his head, one eye closed in reluctant acceptance. "If he wants Luffy, he can have him. That doesn't change the fact that no mellorine should sell herself short."

"Sanji," you start to no avail.

Sanji shakes his head, not wanting to hear any further protests. "Trust me, my lady, you can do much, MUCH better than that guy. I'll make sure of it," he swears solemnly. "For all we know, your prince charming is right around the corner waiting to join the crew so he can throw himself at your feet. As a servant of love, I can't sit back now that I know this information."

It's your time to sigh as Sanji rambles on, cutting his carrots quickly.

#romance dawn ー 🌅#one piece x reader #op x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader

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iamnmbr3 · 1 year ago

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There's so much drarry content to comment on in this passage I hardly even know where to start.

1) Harry's animosity is all for Snape. The only time we really see him feel true anger towards Draco is at the end of 4th year. Otherwise he's rarely deeply angry at him. It would certainly be unsurprising if Harry blamed Draco for what happened, even if Snape struck the killing blow. But he doesn't. Quite the opposites in fact. He feels sympathy for Draco's plight and actively worries about him. Because he knows Draco so well that he can see right through him to the kind of person he really is - not a willing acolyte of Voldemort. And because Harry is drawn to and cares about Draco a lot more than his is willing to acknowledge, even to himself...

2) The thing Harry picks that he still blames Draco for is...his infatuation with the Dark Arts. Not his role in Dumbledore's death. Not anything he's ever done to Harry. Harry's nice but he's not usually THIS forgiving. Certainly not with people he doesn't care about or dislikes... And for all that Harry claims to dislike Draco he spends an awful lot of time worrying about him. Both here and in later passages as well as in book 7. In this section of book 6 he also claims Crabbe and Goyle look "lonely" without Draco but given the interactions we see between them in book 7 it's pretty unlikely they miss him so if anyone misses Draco and feels like his presence is something that has always been part of his life and that it's strange with out him...it's probably Harry.

3) It's also notable that even though Draco only had the chance to lower his wand a little bit Harry is utterly sure he wouldn't have killed Dumbledore. And instead of thinking about how Draco missed his chance to come back to the Light and now will fall deeper into the Dark, he worries about what Voldemort is "making" him do. Thus accepting that any further acts Draco carries out on Voldemort's behalf are against his will. He really understands Draco. And cares about his welfare. A lot more than an enemy or casual acquaintance would.

4) As an aside, it's also pretty hilarious that Harry's like 'Draco Malfoy? No I haven't thought about him much' *proceeds to spend an entire paragraph thinking about him and worrying if he's ok and then brings him up again a few paragraphs later*

#drarry #Harry Potter #hp reread #drarry meta #harry potter and the half blood prince #draco/harry #harry/draco #meta #Harry Potter meta #my meta #my post #drarry in canon #drarry g

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the-awful-falafel · 4 months ago

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Decided to share a megapost of my Fake Peppino relationship / character dynamic headcanons! Not comprehensive at all but should give a rough outline of my personal interpretation of things at least

PEPPINO:

Peppino and Fake Peppino's relationship is... deeply complicated lol

It's the focus of my brainrot (and utterly central to how I see Fake Peppino's postgame character development happening) so I won't quite get into all the progression and nuances here, but if I had to loosely summarize it, I'd say it's kind of a platonic slowburn "weird uncomfortable doppelganger housemate/employee" + enemies-to-trucies-to-uneasy-friendship situation. Lots of black comedy and ominous horror stuff too

More will be explained / shown off over time, hopefully!

GUSTAVO:

Gustavo generally seems tolerant or even oblivious to Fake Peppino's weirdness, although not to a Noisette extent

He doesn't get caught up in paranoia around Fake Peppino like Peppino does, although the odd behavior and comments the clone sometimes makes can be slightly unsettling

Gustavo casually calls Fake Peppino "Peppino" to be respectful (something that agitates real Peppino) and occasionally tries to encourage Peppino to do the same

Gustavo acts relatively friendly and encouraging to Fake Peppino-- believing in good faith that most of his behavior is harmlessly weird and that, if he's anything like the real Peppino, he could use a friend-- but he often feels out of his depth interacting with him for too long, so in practice it's more of a "cordial acquaintances" situation

Fake Peppino sees Gustavo as a nice friend/fellow chef, first as an extension of Peppino's relationship with him and then later more genuinely

Fake Peppino strongly appreciates Gustavo's penchant for adventure, and will often tag along Gustavo's adventures without asking and without warning when he's in the mood to forage for new ingredients or simply observe

BRICK:

Brick does not like Fake Peppino and she gets a bad vibe from him

Fake Peppino thinks the big rat looks delicious but politely holds off because he assumes that Gustavo is saving all that meat for himself

PEPPERMAN:

Pepperman is mostly face-blind towards humans and cannot tell Peppino and Fake Peppino apart unless they're side by side, and only then just barely

Pepperman somewhat admires the surrealism and ethical quandaries of Fake Peppino's existence, and rambles about it to him whenever he's around

Fake Peppino thinks Pepperman talks way too much and too fancily, and therefore tunes out at least 90% of what the pepper says

Fake Peppino has secretly stolen / borrowed paint from Pepperman before, and once or twice he brought over his weird Peppino caricature doodles to show him and get "art advice"

Fake Peppino has contemplated how Pepperman is an impressively big pepper, but there's no shortage of peppers back at the pizzeria, plus the smell of paint and ego kinda gets in the way

Fake Peppino is very pleased whenever Pepperman confuses him with Peppino

THE VIGILANTE:

Vigilante has only met Fake Peppino a handful of times and doesn't have a lot of knowledge of him or a strong opinion on him, thinking that he seems strange but friendly enough

Later on, Vigilante's opinion skews more pessimistic and he views Fake Peppino's creation as another one of Pizzahead's crimes that he must be held accountable for

Fake Peppino thinks the "cowboy cheese" is nice and helpful for giving him directions in the tower at one point, even though he finds his arsenal of guns and gruff demeanor slightly off-putting

Vigilante is the most likely of the bosses to go missing if there's a cheese supply shortage

Vigilante is also the most likely of the bosses to teach Fake Peppino what a flamethrower is

THE NOISE:

Noise finds Fake Peppino hilarious, seeing him as a total freakshow that mocks Peppino just by existing and being generally absurd

Noise would occasionally visit Fake Peppino in the tower alongside Noisette, mostly to just gawk and encourage the weirdo to do food crimes

Because of this, Noise also doesn't take Fake Peppino seriously-- an approach that has backfired on him a couple times, although he stubbornly refuses to learn. (Noise is good at using intimidation and startling loud noises in a pinch, but it never scares off Fake Peppino permanently)

Noise, when possible, likes to encourage Fake Peppino's general chaos and torment of Peppino, although it's just as likely to get thrown back in his face

Fake Peppino generally likes Noise because he sees him as one of his first regular customers alongside Noisette

However, Fake Peppino doesn't like how evasive Noise is at actually eating the complicated "pizzas" he orders, so he's increasingly determined to get Noise to eat one of his pizzas someday, even if it requires coercive methods

Fake Peppino can be unexpectedly passive-aggressive towards Noise when Noise is being more of a rude asshole than usual, although it's more in a playfully antagonistic sort of way... maybe

Fake Peppino was very confused by the whole NTV movie situation and went off-script a little too much for Noise's liking, but Fake Peppino still went along with it and got paid via expensive pizza ingredients afterwards (money was not enticing enough for him, for some reason)

NOISETTE

Noisette sees Fake Peppino as a funny guy and close friend, sharing both a goofiness and love for making dubiously edible food, and she is thoroughly immune to / oblivious of the horrors

She befriended him back in the tower via getting lost and obliviously stumbling into Peppino's Pizza 2, and her ditzy friendliness, utter lack of fear or acknowledgement of red flags, and promise to visit again led to a much more positive (and safer) interaction than all the previous customers had

Noisette's repeat visits were both because she genuinely found his pizzas "interesting" (... despite the fact they kept giving her violent short-term food poisoning, she assumed it was part of the Italian food experience and she thinks it's important to encourage his creativity) and because she was worried he was lonely, working so hard in his secluded restaurant all the time

Noisette always calls Fake Peppino "Peppino" and wholeheartedly affirms his identity

Noisette's overt tolerance and obliviousness of the horrors is not always a good thing and can lead to her enabling Fake Peppino's more dangerous and maladaptive behavior

Fake Peppino sees Noisette as his first and favorite regular customer, and he'd consider her his first friend too, although the lines between friend and customer are very blurry in Fake Peppino's mind

Fake Peppino visits Noisette on rare occasions (rather than the more common other way around), both because he enjoys her company and because he thinks studying her likes/dislikes up close and integrating them into his pizzas is key to maintaining her patronage

Fake Peppino will play party games and board games with Noisette and Noise when she offers, but he's kinda inattentive and doesn't follow the rules (it's okay because half of the rules Noisette makes up / doesn't care about either, and Noise cheats)

GEROME:

Gerome doesn't interact with Fake Peppino much, and when he does, he mostly just regards him with either vague interest or pity

Gerome is aware of the cloning lab and Fake Peppino's true nature/purpose, and has had a lot of experience with his brother's clones-- as a result, Gerome is pessimistic about the Fake Peppino's ability or willingness to change from what he is

Fake Peppino sees Gerome as the small stone man who sleeps all the time, and is interested by his janitorial work, but otherwise doesn't have much of an opinion on him either

PILLAR JOHN

John regards Fake Peppino with a similar sort of pity as Gerome does, although it mostly leads to him expressing sympathy and solidarity towards Peppino over both of them being cloned by Pizzahead and having awkward interactions with said clones after the tower collapsed

Fake Peppino doesn't really know John, but he was warned extensively to never touch the pillars holding up each level gate, no matter how tempting it may be to kick one over

Fake Peppino still follows this rule after the events of the game, even though this pillar is now walking around, but his curiosity will probably get the best of him one of these days

PIZZAFACE

Pizzaface has no opinion on Fake Peppino because he's a (secret) robot/mech whose autopilot AI is quite basic and limited-- he's obedient/loyal to Pizzahead and nobody else

Fake Peppino doesn't understand why you would make a pizza that isn't for eating

PIZZAHEAD

Pizzahead is directly responsible for creating Fake Peppino along with all the other clones, and even though the results didn't match his original "Better Peppino" design concept 1:1, he doesn't care and doesn't see it as a failure at all-- he thinks it's much funnier and more entertaining this way

Pizzahead doesn't really perceive Fake Peppino as a person or sapient entity deserving respect -- he sees Fake Peppino more like a fun new custom-built toy, guard monster, and walking punchline of a joke at Peppino's expense, all rolled into one

Pizzahead doesn't openly mistreat Fake Peppino, necessarily-- he's goofy and irreverent towards him for the most part, just like how he acts towards most other people-- but he certainly exploits and manipulates certain aspects of Fake Peppino's behavior for his own amusement, and saw leaving Fake Peppino on the fourth floor with minimal safeguards as the funniest possible thing to do with him. Look and watch the weird freak go! Wooooo!

Pizzahead is very affirming and encouraging of Fake Peppino believing himself to be really Peppino, mostly to better exploit/manipulate his behavior and to better egg on his established aggression towards "other Peppinos" in preparation for him being sicced on the real Peppino

Pizzahead's inability to take anything seriously extends to even the most bizarre, horrific, and dangerous of his creations, in a way that would probably backfire if it weren't for his power and cartoonish immunity

Pizzahead probably would have gotten bored of and abandoned Fake Peppino at some point if Peppino hadn't destroyed the tower

After the events of the game, Pizzahead is surprised by Fake Peppino's reduced aggression towards Peppino and has attempted to sneakily exploit Fake Peppino's behavior once more to see if he can generate any more funny conflict, but it's not very effective as Fake Peppino has already formed his own ambiguous goals and doesn't really have a reason to listen to Pizzahead anymore-- although he still cheerfully takes the "advice" into consideration

Fake Peppino doesn't know that Pizzahead is responsible for his existence, nor is he aware he was even created in the first place. (Fake Peppino would not believe Pizzahead if he told him, either)

Fake Peppino likes and respects Pizzahead as the tower's owner who pulled him out of the laboratory and gifted him important advice and a restaurant free of charge, but Fake Peppino is otherwise somewhat ambivalent and isn't even particularly loyal to the pizza, instead being obsessed with working the restaurant and working hard at being Peppino

Fake Peppino doesn't quite like Pizzahead's tendency to cartoon-logic grab and deposit him in new locations at random, as he (usually) dislikes being grabbed or touched and Pizzahead doesn't have much regard for his personal space, but it thankfully doesn't happen often enough for it to be a major concern, just an uneasy irritation

Fake Peppino is very curious about what Pizzahead's pizza head tastes like and has attempted to bite it off twice, to no success and Pizzahead barely acknowledging it aside from casually clamping Fake Peppino's jaws shut / sidestepping it and causing Fake Peppino to faceplant

#pizza tower #headcanons #fake peppino #peppino spaghetti #gustavo #brick the rat #pepperman #the vigilante #the noise #noisette #gerome #pillar john #pizzaface #pizzahead #long post

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