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ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist · 8 months

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🎧Elle the Space Unicorn's Masterlist🎧

Reader inserts will have no descriptors, OFCs will be black and plus-sized(unless otherwise stated). I love being able to give girls/femmes who look like me the chance to romance some of their faves.

🎧Bless my current muse...🎧

I love to write fanfiction. Right now, my main muse is Henry Cavill. But I also like some Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan characters (see below who I will write for - send prompts or requests to @ellethespaceunicorn HERE).

Masterlist is under the Cut...

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

Scrapbook (finished)

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

Don't Take My Sunshine Away (possibly on hiatus)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

What Are You Doing, StepBro?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader

Summary: You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader

Summary: Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC}

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director's Cut] {DARKER FIC}

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Happy Birthday, Cupcake

Rating: General

Pairing: Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Treat Me Like A Slut

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Don't Take Your Eyes Off It

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Don't Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Fifteen Minutes

Character: Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Syverson x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Pretty As A Picture

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Something Old, Something New

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC

Summary: At a New Year's Eve party, Ransom Drysdale's life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington.

My Little Strawberry

Pairing: Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches)

Rating: Mature

Summary: A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach.

Doing Something Unholy

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Reader

Summary: This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Praise You

Rating: General, pure fluff

Pairing: Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Shape-Up

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cpt Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches)

Summary: Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Follow-up to Shape-Up: My Little Strawberry

The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Power Play: After Hours

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader

Summary: What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Executive Temptation

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader

Summary: You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

Walter Marshall - Hobbies

Lloyd Hansen - Family, Quirks/Hobbies, Sleep

Lloyd Hansen - What happens when reader starts dressing to match lloyd?

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Steve Rogers (Avengers films)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Nick Gant (PUSH)

Jake Jensen (The Losers)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR CHRIS

Bucky Barnes (Marvel)

Charles Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Steve Kemp (Fresh)

Max (Sharper)

Nick Fowler (The 355)

Lee Bodecker (The Devill All The Time)

Chris (Destroyer)

Justin Capshaw (Law & Order)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR SEBASTIAN

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz, so far only these categories 😁 Let me know if you ever want to be removed!

General Fanfiction (Everything)

Henry Character Fanfiction

Chris Character Fanfiction

August Walker

Bright Like The Moon

Love, Napoleon!

Daddy Knows Best

Don't Take My Sunshine Away

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest

~Please DON'T ask me to tag you in a series that you've never 'liked' or 'reblogged'. It's just kind of rude. Also, don't ask for an ETA on the next chapter.~

*Blog Header, Cover Art for fics, Masterlist Header/MDNI 18+ Banner, Support/Reblog banner and Masterlist Dividers made by me in Canva*

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday/Thursday

Thanks for the tag @nerdieforpedro , keeping me honest over here 😚

Well, well, well. I think we all know I have Stunna brainrot. 🤣🤣🤣 theres something so nasty and so addictive about that man/character. 🥲

As previously mentioned, I have a husband series with him coming up.

I have.....many requests 🤣 some I won't do, unfortunately. They just dont lick my brain, so I'm sorry. The first request is a pt 2 to A Hold On You with Franklin Saint.

Coming up are updates to all my series. I still need to put out pt 2 to Camp Wanderlust.

The winner of my poll is a Lamont fic. I still may only have a few people who'd be interested in RJ Cyler but that man is gorgeous. Look at him 😩 a friends to lovers studio sesh is just what the doc ordered.

That should be all for this week. Pray I get to keep writing before the new job starts. 😩🥲

No pressure tags: @notapradagurl7 @harmshake @ellethespaceunicorn @cardierreh15

#megaminds updates #wip #work in progress #work in progress tag game #tumblr tag game #tag game

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 3 months

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Part 20

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 19 🟣 Part 21

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI. P-in-v sex, fingering, angst, ongoing vampire shenanigans, more blood than we're used to... Mentions of a knife kink. Paranormal voyeurism... (I swear, regular tags and warnings just don't feel sufficient for this :') )

Word count: 4.7k (It's a long one)

A/N: Loving kisses, a successful date, a bitch, a good friend, a messy bite... I'd call this fluffy if it wasn't so... smutty.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

“Mikey?” You threw the door open — and you should have known better. Your heart threatened to beat its way out of your chest at the sight before you. It was really just Mike, on his bed, phone in one hand, dick in the other. The scenario left very little to the imagination with regard to what he was doing…

Then you blinked, and all the evidence of what you’d run into vanished.

“Swe—” He stopped talking — again — and you felt your heart being crushed under the weight of that unfinished word. And this time you weren’t having any of it.

In a few steps, you closed the distance between you and the edge of the bed, where a disappointingly fully dressed Mike was sitting. “Sat it,” you said, putting your hands on either side of his face after hauling him to his feet. “Call me ‘Sweetcheeks’. Wrap your arms around me, hold me, look me right in the eye and say it.”

Despite your explicit and pressing demand, you were surprised when his arms snaked around your waist and he cleared his throat. “Sweetcheeks, I’ve been an idiot.”

“Yeah, well… what else is new?” you chuckled, and your heart jumped for joy when he joined you. Then, you looked at him: “We’re going out. Tonight. Dinner and a movie.”

“We can get burgers and head off to see Saw?” Of course he suggested a horror movie!

“You know I can’t sleep after watching scary movies, Mike,” you whispered.

“I know you can’t sleep alone,” he corrected you — and he was right. “I’ll protect you… Sweetcheeks.”

“Cool, it’s a date,” you said before giggling like a schoolgirl. At least the sound made Mike smile even wider. That was good, right?

“Dinner tonight, princess? I’m making chicken fried rice.” August pressed his lips to yours before you could answer.

“Sounds fantastic, August, but I’m going out. Mike and I are going on a date.” You tried to fight the smile off your face, but you just couldn’t manage.

August wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, peppering kisses along your jaw before dipping his head down to reach your neck. “You’re happy, princess. I like it when you are happy.”

“Even when you’re not the one making me happy?” Why? Why did you ask that?

“I do make you happy,” August said matter-of-factly. “In fact, I make you very happy.” He lifted you onto the kitchen counter, standing between your legs, which you wrapped around his waist.

In the middle of your passionate kiss, Sherlock stumbled into the kitchen.

“Good morning you two,” he said, his indifference to the scene in front of him evident in his voice.

You pushed against August’s shoulders so he would let you go, and hopped off the counter, stalking towards Sherlock in a few big, angry steps. It surprised you that he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you — quite firmly, and inappropriately for a communal area of the house. It also surprised you that he was quite cold to the touch.

“I heard you have a date with Mike tonight?” he asked with a kind smile. “A wonderful idea. May I request some time to feed before you leave?”

“Only of you don’t ask me so formally,” you snorted. “I love you, of course you can eat. You’re not filing a tax form!”

“Well, then,” he said, his smile growing more mischievous, “would my beautiful love accompany me to bed, please?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you heard him say those words, before realizing that you always retreated to his bedroom to feed. It had just become a thing you usually did in private. Not for anyone’s sake, but simply to take full advantage of the calming sensation you felt, and to really give yourself some alone time with your guys. This time would be no different. No different at all.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, darling,” he said kindly when you stepped into the room. “I will get you some tea, and… August?” Sherlock turned around before the door opened and indeed showed August, standing outside, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He sighed, while Sherlock chuckled. “Thank you very much.”

August grumbled something unintelligible while rolling his eyes before turning on his heel and disappearing, leaving you and Sherlock to it.

You took the glass of water and drank it quickly, not because you hoped to get this over with as quickly as possible, but because you wanted to crawl into Sherlock’s arms as soon as you could.

You waited a few minutes, just laying on his bed, curled up in his embrace with your head resting on his chest, while gathering your thoughts as well as your courage. Then, you kissed him. It surprised you that he was so greedy in his reciprocation, to the point where he quickly took the lead in your little bout of passion, pinning you to the mattress, the weight of his body comfortably crushing your soul back into your body. Sometimes that was just necessary.

What did bother you, however, was the fact that he seemed to be having no physical reaction to your kiss whatsoever. Why the hell not?

His lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, and eventually to your neck, where you felt his fangs scrape over your skin.

Of your four partners, Sherlock had the gentlest bite, and he took the most time when feeding — save for Mike when he had access to his preferred location. You’d once asked him why, and he had answered that throughout the years, he’d had to feed quickly for such a long time, that he refused to now that he no longer had to.

“Thank you, darling,” he said quietly when he was done making sure your wounds would heal.

“Why do you always say that?” You’d never asked him that before, you realized, even though you couldn’t remember any time he hadn’t said it.

“You let me bite you. You voluntarily allow me to wound you so that I may feed on your blood. Darling, if that is not something I should be thankful for…”

You sealed your mouth over his to stop him from talking, and when you retreated, he smiled. A tingly feeling ran all the way through your body as you looked deep into his eyes, and you opened your mouth to speak. To your surprise, Sherlock put his hand over your mouth, a serious look in his eyes. His pupils were dilated, you noticed. Strange…

“Whatever you say next, I will have to obey. Please choose your words with great care,” he said, his voice strained, as if he had great trouble speaking.

“Thank you for explaining,” you said hesitantly after Sherlock’s hand had disappeared. “Can we get to the snuggling part of the event, please?” You needed to feel his arms around you once again.

“Of course,” he spoke slowly, “your wish is quite literally my command.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” you asked when he was curled up around you, pulling you close. “I thought we’d made it past the excessive caregiving aftermath of the feeding?”

“We have. You hypnotized me,” he chuckled. “It will wear off.”

You turned around in his arms and looked at him. “I didn’t mean to do that,” you said. It was strange; you felt guilty about it in a way you had never felt guilty about gaining access to Mike’s gift, or August’s. You had grown to thoroughly enjoy Marshall’s…

“It’s because I have a choice. There is no passive side to this gift, other than that I have been told I can be excessively charismatic,” he said as though he could read your thoughts. He couldn’t, which meant they had to be displayed clearly on your face. “You get to share in their experience, and they are glad to let you do that. I, on the other hand…”

“You don’t like the gift?” you asked carefully, sending this was not a topic he enjoyed discussing.

“I abhor it. That time I used it on you haunts me, still. And you were right to admonish me over it. If I had seen any other option, please trust that I would have gone that route. I am terribly sorry.”

“But you use it for good,” you suggested in a feeble attempt to ease the pain in his eyes.

“There is nothing good about taking away consent and free will,” he sighed. “Although the interrogations do require a consent form, so I suppose… It still makes me quite uncomfortable at times.”

“Sherlock, please be honest with me,” you said pensively.

“I feel the need to remind you that I have no other choice, darling.”

“Is it okay, when this happens, if I ask you to tell me you love me?”

“Certainly,” he replied, a hint of amusement to his voice.

“Then tell me you love me,” you commanded as you rolled on top of him, straddling his hips.

“With all my heart, my darling,” he answered before pulling you down into a searing kiss.

“Omg, hey Mike!” Rose walked towards you, closely followed by Jenelle. “What are you two doing here?”

“Movie date,” Mike said with a big smile. Dinner had been awesome, and standing here with him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, felt like an absolute dream. “What about you two?”

“J got stood up by her date,” Rose explained, “so I came to the rescue!”

“She was hot as hell, too,” Jenelle sighed. “Here.”

Mike let out a low whistle when he saw the photo on her phone screen. “Goddamn. Too bad Tits McGee clearly doesn’t have a brain.” He pulled Jenelle in for a hug. “You are way too pretty to be treated this way. Wait, I can say that, right, Sweetcheeks?” He turned too you, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, Mike, because you’d be right.” You weren’t going to be offended by Mike thinking J was pretty. She was, end of.

“Will you guys sit with us?” The movie had been out for a while, and there were only a handful of people in the lobby. Assigned seats, schmassigned seats.

“And listen to you guys making out all through the movie? No tha—ow! The fuck?” J had caught an elbow to the ribs from Rose, which didn’t go unnoticed by Mike. Mostly because J wasn’t exactly quiet about it, but still. Mike put two and two together unusually quickly.

“Alright, Sweetcheeks, how much do they know?” he asked, feigning annoyance.

“Just that you guys are working through something, nothing more.” J and Rose looked innocent. Or rather; they tried to. And failed.

“Everything, Mike,” you sighed. “They’re my best friends, and they know everything.”

“That’s okay, it’s all my fault anyway. We’re starting to… heal, I suppose.” It was sweet to hear Mike say it that way — and he was right, of course. “We haven’t kissed yet, though. So I wouldn’t worry about the making out part.” Even the oversharing was adorable, dammit…

He was right though; you spent the whole time staring at the screen — except when you snuggled into Mike’s side as well as you could (stupid chairs…) when things got scary. You did hold hands all the way through the film, though, which was really nice. You hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed his touch, even though he was fairly cold…

“Well that was horrible,” J said when you walked out of the theatre a few hours later.

“Are you kidding me?” Mike clearly disagreed. “That was great! Blood, gore, Jigsaw. And I got to hold my pretty girl again.”

“Oh, yeah, no, def,” Jenelle agreed with him. “Fabulous date movie. Horrible third-and-fourth-wheel-movie though. Rose?”

“Agreed, and can I just say that—”

“Out of my way.” A shoulder hit you from behind, sending you tumbling into Mike’s chest. “Right. Go snuggle with your bloodsucker, you vampire skank.”

“Bloodsuckers, plural, right?” You didn’t even know the girl who asked.

“Yeah, bitch has a whole harem. They snack on her.” Katie raised an eyebrow at you and smirked in a way that would put mean queen Regina George herself to shame.

“Oh my god, she’s literally a blood whore?” Again; who was that girl even?

“Listen, you might want to step the fuck off, you insufferable, miserable, narrow-minded, hillbilly cunt.” And she’d better listen, because Jenelle was about five seconds away from losing her shit.

“Fine. You’re not the kind of person I want to be seen with, anyway. You’ll get what you deserve,” she said as she turned around. “Just you wait.”

“She said what?” Now August was five seconds away from losing his shit, and even though Jenelle’s impressive five-eleven frame could be intimidating — especially considering she was taller than Mike if you added her afro to her height, which she always did.

“Jenelle dealt with it,” you said quickly, chuckling at the memory of the imposing law student using some impressive adjectives you couldn’t have come up with in a million years to put Katie in her place. It had been by far the most eloquent opprobrium you had ever heard in your entire life. No, you hadn’t known that word before you left for your date.

“She is an amazing friend,” Mike said. He was right. You could always count on her to stick up for you. Rose, too, but confrontation generally scared her. Jenelle grew up with four brothers, so…

“I wonder what Katie meant when she said I’d get what I deserve…” you pondered.

“You know we’d never let her get to you, right?” Marshall said before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

You nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “Mikey… Can we just go to sleep, please?”

It was strange to get into bed with him again, after weeks of practically avoiding each other, and it was no surprise that it took the two of you some time to figure out how you fit together at least somewhat comfortably — especially since Mike required some access to your neck. He hadn’t asked to feed, but you knew better.

“Go on,” you said, baring your neck to him when you’d finally settled in.

He looked at you, his face contorted into a strange grimace that told you he was uncomfortable with something…

“Are you sure, Sweetcheeks? I mean… I told you I’d go back to—” Without thinking, you kissed him. Hard — and so incredibly passionately that when you broke away, you were gasping for air.

“I’d rather die than have you feed off some…” Nope, that was not a nice thing to say about someone just doing their job. Try again. “You belong with me, Mikey. And…”

You fucking hypocrite. You’d made such a circus of making him call you ‘Sweetcheeks’ again, but there was something you hadn’t been able to tell him for weeks, too. It wasn’t just him. And it was time for you to bite the bullet.

“I love you, Mike,” you whispered, trailing your fingers over the side of his face. “And I’m incredibly glad we’re finding each other again. You can feel what I desire. If it’s anything other than you sinking your teeth into me…”

“Oh, there’s something else,” he mused. “But we’ll save that for later. I’m guessing no boobies?”

“Eh…” You considered it for a moment. “Let’s park that, for now? My neck is fine, though. But no more nonconsensual vampire marriages, Mike.” He didn’t need the warning — he was an idiot, not a jerk — but you couldn’t help yourself.

He had to flip you both over to be able to get to the side Sherlock hadn’t punctured that afternoon — seriously, sometimes you felt a little… used. You loved it, of course, but still.

Mike inhaled deeply, dragging the tip of his nose over your neck as he did, and sighed. “You smell so fucking good.”

For some reason, his words make your cheeks heat up.

“I thought I was going to go insane when Sherlock got to you this afternoon, I—”

Why did you feel the need to interrupt his confession — which no doubt was about to turn steamy soon — with your insecurities? “Could you tell what he desired?” The first rule for a peaceful life was still ‘don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to’, right?

“He wanted to be close to you, and he wanted to feed,” Mike said simply. Was that all? “Have you considered talking to him, Sweetcheeks?”

Okay, fine! Now that everyone in the house had pointed out that that was what you should do… maybe you should give it a go.

“Now, where was I?” Mike’s soft lips trailed over your skin, sometimes placing soft kisses that made you whine softly. “You’re so warm, you taste so sweet. Especially like this. All worked up and hot for me…”

“Mike, we shouldn’t…” And why the hell not? You were so innately attracted to this guy that it bordered on completely ridiculous, and he already knew you were dying to feel him again. On top of you. Behind you. Inside you.

“I can hear your heart beat faster for me,” he growled, his lips moving gently against the skin of your neck, “I can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks — and your pussy. Your body and mind are screaming for me, Sweetcheeks. Make no mistake, I’m screaming right back…” He ground his hips into you to prove it, and chuckled. His fingers tentatively dipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants.

Your permission was silent, your response was not. Mike wasted no time slipping his hand into your panties and seeking out your clit, making you gasp.

You came so quickly you barely registered it.

“Fucking dripping…” Mike growled before nipping at your earlobe. “All for me, Sweetcheeks?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. “Yes.” Still wasn’t enough for him. “Fuck… yes, baby, all for you.” You’d pay good money to have that smug grin wiped off his face.

He dipped his fingers into you with ease — he hadn’t exactly been lying when he pointed out you were soaked — and pulled his hand back, which surprised you. Then, he wrapped his hand around his cock, biting his lip as the slow, lazy strokes forced moans from his throat. You just looked at him — mostly with fascination, but also a bit of confusion.

“What? This is as close as I can get to feeling you directly on my skin,” he muttered. He was adorably out of breath.

“I’ve considered getting an IUD, but putting them in apparently hurts like a bitch and—”

“So take August.” Mike shrugged, not minding the interruption in your moment at all — and also still stroking himself, which you found both oddly amusing and very in-character.

“What?” you said, thinking you had some idea of what he was getting at, but wanting to verify it nonetheless.

“Take August,” he repeated, slightly louder than before, “I’m sure he won’t mind playing walking painkiller if it means he gets to fuck you raw.”

“Deal!” you heard from the other room, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Soon, the door opened. “Seriously, I didn’t quite catch what you were talking about but I’m game.”

“You help her deal with the pain of getting an IUD, we get to ditch condoms, everyone wins,” Mike summarized. “Now fuck off, I’m trying to get laid.”

“You’re way past trying,” you chuckled. “Goodbye, August.”

“Awh, you’re not going to let me watch?” he teased. Alright, semi-teased. You knew for a fact he’d love to watch.

Next to you, Mike grinned, meaning he’d caught the surge of desire that had flooded you for a moment as soon as the words had tumbled from August’s gorgeous lips. Not that there was any way they hadn’t heard your breath hitch or caught any of the other specs of evidence that the idea excited you more than it probably should.

“Best I can do is let you listen in,” Mike decided before gesturing at him to get out. August gave you a questioning look, and you nodded, another rush of heat washing over you as you thought about what this meant.

‘Treat her right’ were his parting words to Mike before he made his way, presumably to his own room.

“Mmh, you always do,” you hummed contently as Mike finally left his cock alone and focused on you again. He smiled as he plunged his fingers back into you, finding the right spot almost instantly. It was a cute smile; eyes twinkling, fangs out… you watched him with wide eyes as he bit down on his lip, piercing the skin.

“Oh,” he chuckled at his own mistake.

The little bead of blood formed slowly, and you watched it happen, until it got too big to be contained and rolled toward the outside of his lip. You rarely acted on an impulse so immediately — and you were fairly sure you’d never acted so impulsively that it even took Mike by surprise — but there was no fighting this urge to pull Mike closer and… you didn’t quite kiss him. That would have been one thing, but this was something else entirely. You licked the blood off his lip. And you didn’t stop there, no. You sucked his lip into your mouth while Mike let out a very loud moan. A suspiciously loud moan.

“You did not just...” There really was no need to finish that question. Mike was probably embarrassed enough as it…

“Yeah, I totally did, Sweetcheeks,” he said, grinning at you like he’d gone insane. “That hadn’t happened in at least three decades, babe. Fuck that was hot. Kinky. All that good stuff. Did you… was it… just… any good?”

“I’m mostly still in shock over what just happened.” And the fact that it had made Mike jizz in his pants.

“I kinda do want to run this by Sherlock,” he said to your surprise, “I mean… developing a sudden taste for the good stuff could mean you’re transitioning. It's not technically possible, because I know we’ve all been very diligent and responsible about our garlic, but it doesn’t hurt to have it checked out.”

“She’s not,” you heard from the other side of the door as footsteps — Sherlock’s footsteps — passed by the room and disappeared further into the hallway. “I would have noticed!”

“Settled?” Mike asked. You laughed in response. There was something incredibly funny about August’s earlier intrusion and this one by Sherlock, and the way it didn’t even ruin the mood.

“Settled. Just a… I’m going to call it an impulse, for now. I’m not sure if it’s a kink thing.” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and they weren’t the only part of you that felt that way.

“God I hope it is!” Mike sighed as he snuggled up against you.

“What, so you can ruin another pair of pants?”

“Hey, fuck you!” He pouted at you, but you could see the grin lurking beneath.

“We were getting there, I believe.” You cocked an eyebrow and then Mike had finally had enough. For a second, he withdrew, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and then he pounced on you.

Your pajamas did not survive the carnage, and neither did his. He was hard, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Didn’t I tell you? Significantly reduced cool down time,” Marshall sounded in your head, making you laugh even louder. Mike looked at you, not asking the question he clearly wanted to.

“Marshall,” you clarified, before yelling at the man to butt the fuck out.

Mike managed to rip four condom wrappers open so enthusiastically that he ruined their contents as well, at which point you finally pointed at the intact, unwrapped, latex nuisance you were already holding. He didn’t hold still while you rolled it onto his cock, and he sure as hell didn’t wait so much as a second to drag your ass onto his thighs.

He pushed into you at the same time he bit you, and you squealed. Rough and eager Mikey was fun. He had been from the beginning of your relationship, and he was now, and he would be in the future — that endless future you suddenly had with him again. He crouched over you, using one hand to grasp your hip, the other to pin your wrists to the bed while he drank from your neck, impatient and greedy and messy.

He fucked into you with something almost resembling a tender kind of rage, caring enough to avoid hurting you, but rough enough to bring you to the edge with just his cock — not something he was usually good at, you had to admit.

He came up before he finished, his lips red from your blood, which trickled down his chin. For the first time ever, you saw your monster in those bright blue eyes. And you loved him even more. The final few brutal thrusts were accompanied by low growls and swearing, and you stared at his face intently, noting the mellowing of his gaze after he opened his eyes again. Watching Mike’s ‘coming’-face was incredible. It was a very raw, honest moment — and for a significant amount of bonus points: it looked absolutely ridiculous —and it was beautiful. Intimate. Connected to you in indescribable ways.

“Wow. Okay, ehm… babe I made a fucking mess, alright? Didn’t mean to do that. Very sorry. We gotta get cleaned up…” Of course, he beat you to the bathroom.

In the hallway, you ran into Marshall, and there was no way you’d ever be able to convince even a single hair on your head that this was somehow a coincidence. He had to have heard.

“I did,” he said, his voice hoarse and his words punctuated by quick, shallow breaths he drew in as he looked at you. “I tried to stay in my room, but…” He raked his eyes over your naked form over and over again, committing whatever it was that he saw to memory before abruptly turning around and disappearing into his bedroom.

In the bathroom, you got your first good look at what Mike had meant. He had made a mess. Which, in this case, meant that your neck looked like someone had ripped your throat out, your shoulder was covered in blood, and it slowly trickled down, over your chest, between your breasts… in your mind, you heard Marshall again.

‘I want to watch you bleed.’

Well… you wanted him to watch you bleed as well.

“Fair warning,” Mike said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and he glanced at you in the mirror. “He likes to play with knives. It won’t scar as long as you don’t need stitches and he can… treat the wounds the way we usually do.” He grabbed a washcloth and began to clean you up as he explained.

“How do you even know?” you said, your eyes wide with some mix of terror and fascination.

“We told you we met somewhere in the late eighties, right? He met me because I hung out with a group of goths,” he said, and some shards of that conversation came flooding back to you. Something about Marshall screwing around with Mike’s ex… “There was a lot of mixing chemicals to dye hair, and piercing your own eyebrows with sewing needles. That kind of stuff.”

“And they went nuts for the whole vampire thing,” you said, remembering the conversation a little better now.

“Yeah,” Mike said. There was something suspiciously apologetic to his voice. “I did, too. I mean. I was human back then. Okay, long story short; Marshall had this friend, Serafine — probably not her real name, but who cares? — and we used to… hook up.”

“You did what we do,” you said. It wasn’t a question, and the guilty look on his face told you more than you needed to know. This happened in the late eighties. Three decades ago. You didn’t even know him. You weren’t even born! “I’m irrationally pissed about this, Mike.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said. “But, ehm… why?”

“Because, Mike,” you said, slowly walking towards him, apparently scaring him enough that he backed up until he was standing against the wall. “You’re fucking mine.”

#mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction #natural fic #naturalfic #mike hellraiser smut

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slippinninque · 2 days

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WIP TUESDAY/WEDNESDAY/THURSDAY

I'm going to be faster about these one day, swear!

I was tagged by @nerdieforpedro and @babybratzmaraj and I'm very happy to participate!🥰

Not much has changed since last time I put out an update. It's been a bit wild trying to find time to write, but we're in this together! Let's keep pushing!

I have so many half-notes regarding fluffy things, I don't even know what will make it out the gauntlet lol! Here are a few that has my focus, though:

"Stray Thoughts" -- (Chester fic) I wanted to see how Chester would react to keeping some cute little secrets from you.

2. 'Grumpy Fontaine" -- (Fontaine ask) I have an ask in the drafts about what would a grumpy-to-everyone-but-you Fontaine be like and I'm probably having too much fun with that because I can't seem to end it lol

3. "Blame it On The Goose!" -- (Fontaine fic) I always have smoking in my fics so I wanted to try a little something different with drunken antics lol.

There are a few more great asks that I'm going to get to. I love getting request and asks even if it takes me so long to get them out!

I really want to write something for Jatemme Manning because @megamindsecretlair did such a wonderful, wonderful job of writing him and it inspired me! (do you think I can pull off a soft-ish Jatemme?) What I have right now is a bit convoluted but I am obsessed lol!

I also have an itch for bringing Lloyd Hansen to the page, but I'm still trying to figure out how to get into the rhythm.

✨no pressure tags:✨ @cardierreh15 @ellethespaceunicorn @wide-nose-and-wonderful

#wip game #wip wednesday #well wip thursday #black fic writer #black creative writer

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deandoesthingstome · 9 months

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15 Minute Challenge - Step Out of the Car

@sweetandgentlecreature and @ellethespaceunicorn both tagged me in a fun little challenge and I wasn’t going to do it but I was just complaining about a bit of block, so I thought “why not?”

It’s a bit of a cheat, since I had an idea running around and a few words jotted down, but I took a little time to try to add a few more.

Based off this thirst post. (And yes, I know @cardierreh15 has already created an amazing fic with this prompt. I gave her permission.) @geralts-yenn you were wondering...

The switch felt good to flip. Solid and with purpose. Lights flashed on the road ahead and the wail was expected. You noted the brake tap and let a small smirk slide onto your face as the car ahead of you slowed and signaled to pull off the side of the road. It was a routine traffic stop, but a call into dispatch was still required just to confirm no backup required.

After following procedure to check the truck as you rounded the back of the car, you stepped to the driver's side, hand on your service pistol, and motioned the window down.

"License and registration," you requested with your best air of authority.

"What's this about? I wasn't speeding," the driver responded, handing over the documents as asked.

"If you could just step out of the vehicle sir."

"Seriously?" he replied, with a smug air you had yet to decide how to address.

"Step out, please, and place your hands behind your head."

The fucking audacity of the smirk on his face and swing of his hips as he complied made you almost swoon, but you retained composure as you placed him facing the car, hands on the hood, and kicked his feet a little wider apart, before you began the pat down.

"Is this your wallet here, sir?"

"No, I'm just happy to see you."

"Strange place for that. Maybe a little less lip, huh?" you, replied as you fished the wallet out of his back pocket and lightly tapped it against the back of his head. "That attitude might get you someplace you don't wanna be."

You placed the wallet on top of the squad car, and finished the pat down by running the backs of your hands down his back and sides before reaching around to drag your hands down his chest. You didn't fail to notice how soft the white tee-shirt felt beneath your fingertips.

"Turn around and place your hands behind your head."

"Can you please tell me what this is about?"

At least he offered a little more respect this time.

"We've had reports of suspicious activity in the neighborhood. You and your vehicle fit the description." You pulled a set of handcuffs from the back of your uniform and continued speaking as you swung the lever around his right wrist. "I'll be taking you in for questioning."

"Questioning about what?" he continued to ask as you bent his right arm down, then brought his left around to meet it before fastening the second cuff and double locking the device.

Welp, I tried. This is all I got. I’m not sure it opened up anymore ideas or thoughts on this one, so we’ll see if I can find any more inspo somewhere to fill this out more. Maybe I’ll just stare at the original pic every day for 15 minutes until something screams at me...

Open tags because I think by now everyone’s been tagged or already done it.

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #writing games #writing excercise #writing prompts #writer things #working on the roadblock

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peyton-warren · 2 years

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Masterlist- Updated October 17th, 2023

Write mostly Henry Cavill Characters at the moment, a few characters from Chris Evans fandom, but am dipping my toes into other fandoms including Stranger Things, and it'll be a cold day in hell when I let go of Supernatural. If you have any prompts/ request that you would like me to attempt, feel free to send them to me.

Key

😥: Angst / Hurt

😍: Fluff

🔥: Smut/Suggestive

👊: Violence

🥹: Requested

💚 :Personal Favorite

🤓: Challenges

🤔: Ask

💯: Completed , ✍ : Work in Progress , ❌ :Hiatus

Third Wheel- 😍🔥✍Sammy reintroduces his best girl to his best friend with the promise of an evening of fun for all.

Part 1

Part 2 Coming Soon.

Autonomy- 😥🤓💯 One word sums up Ari's work. Drabble.

Stick Handling Series-💚😍🔥✍ Drabbles showing domestic bliss of Reader living with Jake Jensen, Walter Marshall, Captain Syverson, Ari Levinson, Ransom Drysdale, and Curtis Everett. Guest appearances by Geralt of Rivera, and Dean Winchester is insistent there's room for him in the Bunkhouse.

Intrusion in The Dark- 😥😍🔥💯Reader has a bad day. Boyfriend Jake Jensen comes home and tries to help. Smut, angst and fluff.

Anon Ask snippet -😥🥺✍Intrusion in the Dark Follow up request. Reader comforting Jake.

Between A Wolf and A Hard Place-😥😍👊💯 Jake Jensen x Reader with a large side of Captain Syverson. Angst, fluff and violence.

Blinded by the Fog -💚😥😍👊🔥 Reeling from the loss of your husband in a tragic accident in Bolivia, you throw yourself into caring for the other women left behind, avoiding your own care. Along the way you meet another Army Captain who helps you see you should be cared for too. You grow closer to the new man in your life only to find out a few months later that your husband is actually alive and well. Different world than Between A Wolf and a Hard Place.

A Dash of Cinnamon- 😥😍🥹💯 Jake Jensen supports his love after they had a moment of panic in his absence.

Sanctuary of Hope- 🤔😢😢💯 Ask of Post-nightmare cuddles for Jake Jensen. Reader comforts Jake after his night mare.

Other The Losers Drabbles/WIPs

Untitled conversation btwn Reader and Clay about Jensen getting himself into trouble. 😥👊

Between A Wolf and A Hard Place-😥😍👊💯Jake Jensen x Reader with a large side of Captain Syverson. Angst, fluff and violence. Military flavored violence in later chapters.

Roses & Flame- 🔥🤔💯Sy Birthday themed smut is the short of it. @ellethespaceunicorn requested Sy horned up for her on her birthday. Extra bonus if I mentioned her ample backside.

Threat of Exile -🤓😥👊 💯 Reader is on a supply run with Syverson after the world has ended. Challenge for @the-slumberparty.

Three-Jump Cowboy- 🤔🤔😍 Ask was "Syverson Waiting on him hand and foot" Gender Neutral Reader cares for Sy after an accident leaves him bedridden.

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter):

The Hidden Sun- 😥😍👊🔥✍ Reader gets some help with an unruly customer from Detective Marshall. Smut starting in Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Coming Soon

Arresting and Arrested- 🤔😢😍 "⛑ - Some tender first-aid with Walter Marshall" Walter receives first aid from an unexpected source.

Blazed and Blazing- 😢- Follow up to Arresting and Arrested. Aftermath of SWAT raid to get extract Walter from his kidnappers' clutches.

Into the Storm-🔥🤔💚💯 you come home to find Walter taking matters into his own hands.

Sam is Angry- 🔥💯 Reader and Dean defile Sam's latest research.

Monster Slaying Babies- 😥😍💯 Reader nurse the Winchester brother through the flu. Fluff

Chaos and Clothes- 😥😍👊🔥💯 Slight AU: Imagine if Ellen didn't come get her daughter Jo after her hunt with the Winchesters in Philly in No Exit. Just pretend Dean promised Ellen they would deliver her safe and sound back to the roadhouse. What happened in that fully paid for apartment the night before they left for Nebraska?

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Playing with Fire- 😍💯 silly drabble about musical misunderstandings.

Missing- 😍🔥✍ - Reader x Deacon. Coming soon.

Original Fic

Tight Spaces 💚😍🔥You are out at a party in NYC with the love of your life. And he mercilessly tortures you through the evening. Written for a women's erotica magazine that never happened.

Like what you see? Send me a request, Ask to be added to my Tag Lists, and check out my AO3 where older fics are hiding.

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Fandom: Night Hunter

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @enchantedbytomandhenry; You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope (not sure if I nailed it though), unprotected p-in-v, creampie, Daddy kink, male tackling female to subdue (if that squicks you, maybe skip this one-it is quick but described)

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist

Oh, this is great. No, it’s perfect. Not only were you voluntold to work a weekend-long stakeout, but you’d also be paired with Detective Marshall. Yeah, that Detective Marshall. Walter. The asshole who you’ve been competing with for ‘top dog’ since before joining S.W.A.T. all those years ago.

He was always just ahead of you. Ran a mile half a minute quicker. Got promoted a month sooner. To top it all off, he was tall and drop-dead gorgeous. And he had an ass you could bounce a quarter off.

Wait, hold on. When did that become something you even cared about?

The way he cockily smiles at you as he exits his truck in the parking lot of the motel is enough to have you clench your thighs together. This should be a fun weekend.

Friday night into Saturday morning is spent quietly using the listening devices to monitor our suspect. You both just…sit there, using your ears. Walter is usually quiet, sure. But what human doesn’t even accidentally use small talk to fill a quiet space?

During the day, you try and sleep in your separate room but it proves to be difficult. You toss and turn, grumbling to yourself after a couple of hours. Visions of Marshall’s chiseled jawline, beefy arms, and thick thighs are burned in your mind. You abandon all hope of sleeping, spending the rest of the day disassembling and cleaning your sidearm. It keeps your mind sharp and you genuinely enjoy the process.

It’s nearing seven and you’re just getting your things together to head over to the surveillance room when you get a knock at the door. You peek through the curtains and see Marshall as he leans on the doorframe.

You open the door and look expectantly at him. When he doesn’t answer and barges into the room past you, you pipe up, “Come on in, why don’t you?” You close the door behind you and watch as he looks around the room.

He notices your gun cleaning kit on the small wooden table by the window and looks back at you. “You didn’t sleep today. You look like shit.”

“Awesome. Thank you. What do you want?” you snap, already sick of his annoyingly perfect face.

“Go home and get some sleep,” he crosses his arms, standing in front of you, “Got the B team coming in to take over.”

“So, we’re both leaving? Or are you just dismissing me?” you questioned, crossing your own arms.

“Just you,” he deadpans, not feeling the need to explain himself further.

“Well, fuck that. I’m not leaving, so if you’ll excuse me,” you fumed, moving to reach for your sidearm on the table as he moves over, holding a hand out between the table and yourself.

“I can’t let you take that with so little sleep. It’s dangerous for both of us. Trust me, one slip up, and one of us is down,” he warns, holding his ground.

“Marshall, get out of my way. We have a job to do.”

“No, I have a job to do. You’re off the clock. Go home, kid,” he urged, holding his position.

“You’re gonna have to take me out of this mission by force, Marshall. Otherwise, I’m-”

You did not get to finish that sentence before Walter was taking you down on your stomach. A strong arm fully extended holding your left shoulder, while your right wrist is being restrained, would have been enough. But, this was Marshall after all and if he was anything, he was thorough. He straddles your hips, with just enough pressure to keep you down, but not enough to scratch a certain itch.

“I didn’t wanna have to do that,” Walter breathes, winded slightly from the takedown, “but you gave me no choice.”

“Marshall, get the fuck off of me,” you growl, trying to buck him off.

“Yeah, kid, that’s not happening,” he spits, hooking his ankles over your thighs, “You’re lucky I don’t cuff you to keep you down.”

“So, what? You just looking for a reason to get me to obey you?” you challenge, struggling under his weight.

“As if you needed an excuse,” he laughs, straightening himself above you.

“Please! If you honestly think-”

“Give it a rest, I can smell your arousal from here,” he teased, lowering his hips a fraction and watching your squirm, “And before you say it’s not because of me, why couldn’t I smell it until after I had taken you down?”

“Fuck you, Marshall,” you scoff, trying to hold some semblance of control.

“Yeah, maybe if you did, you could get some fucking sleep,” he offers, his left hand moving from your shoulder down your arm, “But here you are, stubborn as hell.”

You lick your lips, considering his words. You wanted to get some release. You also wanted to sleep.

Fuck it.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he queries, slowly starting to release your arms.

“I’m exhausted and I’m horny. But you’re doing all of the work, Marshall,” you say, lifting your hips to meet his crotch.

“That’s a good girl,” he hummed, releasing your arms before leaning up and off of you. You start to raise yourself before you are lifted and all but thrown on the bed and told to strip. Watching as his layers are quickly being shed, you all but rip away your clothing.

Once fully naked, you look at Marshall where he stands watching you. Cock in hand, he pumps his massive length slowly while his eyes rake over you. “Tell me what you need,” he coaxed, his voice lower by at least an octave.

“Hurry the fuck up and put me to bed, Marshall, before I change my mind,” you threaten, your body thrumming under his gaze.

“You can change your mind at any time, you just say the word and this is over, yeah?” he informs, eyes connecting with yours.

“Heard,” you chime in, opening your legs for him.

He kneels on the bed between your legs, reaching down to collect some of your wetness that glistens in the low light of the motel room. He lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers before plunging them inside you. “Fuck, girl, you are so wet for me. So fucking hot,” he moans, squelching sounds filling the room as he massages your inner bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Daddy!” you squealed, completely out of your control.

“That’s it, girl, cum for me,” he goaded, his thumb moving to play with your swollen button.

It doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar tightening in your core, and Marshall must be the World’s Greatest Detective™ because he is pulling out his fingers and thrusting his cock inside your wet heat. Fucking you through your orgasm, your tight walls fluttering around him causing him to groan loudly.

“That’s one, let’s see if we can’t get you another, yeah?” he teases, melding your chests together as he wraps his arms around your center. From this angle, he can stimulate your clit while stroking deeply. And he does so at a punishing pace, his teeth nipping and kissing your neck. “Fuck, we shoulda done this years ago, girl. This pussy is fucking made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mewl, that time was completely on purpose.

Marshall leans up, leaving one arm around you while the other hand goes to your hair, baring your neck. “Who’s pussy is this, girl?” he challenges, even though he already knows.

“It’s yours, Daddy,” you whine, legs wrapping around his hips.

“That’s fucking right, it’s mine,” he praised, hips pistoning into you, “And I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else. You’re mine, girl.”

His growled claim of you paired with the way he fucks into you has your legs trembling around him instantly, your second orgasm of the night flowing through you.

“Hmmm, that’s my girl, taking Daddy’s cock so well,” he groans, the sound vibrating through the both of you.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you moan, squeezing your thighs around Marshall, “I love your fucking cock.”

“That’s right you love this cock,” he growls, pulling out and manhandling you onto all fours, “Put Daddy’s cock back in, girl.”

You reach back and line him up, pushing back to impale yourself before moaning out at the angle change. Marshall grips your hips, plowing into you, no doubt chasing his own release now.

“Fucking cum inside me, Daddy,” you whimper, loving the sounds coming from your sodden cunt as it is pounded.

“I’m gonna breed this perfect pussy,” he grunts, hips stuttering until he pushes in as deep as can, cock twitching and painting your insides so full that it starts to leak past your entrance. He pulls out slightly before starting to fuck his cum back inside you. The sensation alone has your pussy quivering around him for the third time before you fall forward on your front.

Marshall laughs as he gets up from the bed, going to the en suite bathroom. You can hear him taking a piss and you know that you should as well to combat any chance of a UTI. But your legs aren’t listening yet so fuck that idea.

Your eyes are already closed when you feel a wet warmth between your legs as Marshall is wiping down your swollen sex gently before you snuggle into the comforter being wrapped around you. A kiss is placed on your temple and soon you hear the rustling of clothes being put back on.

The sound of your motel room door opening and closing barely registers as you fall asleep.

It is sometime later in the evening and you check your phone on the nightstand as it reads 12:12 AM. No need to make a wish.

You take a quick shower and get dressed before heading over to the surveillance room. You are stopped outside of the room by a uniformed officer. “Detective Marshall asked me to keep you out. And he wanted me to give you this. That’s all I know, Ma’am.” The officer hands over a note and you step away and read it.

Hey,

I was serious about you getting some sleep.

Get that ass back to bed.

Daddy will see you soon, girl.

Sweet dreams xx

A/N: So, like I don’t know how I feel about how I wrote Walter here. This is not MY Walter, but I quite enjoyed this version of him.

**Tag List**

@astheskycries

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz! 😁

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #ellethespaceunicorn request fill #ellethespaceunicorn prompt fill

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Praise You

Rating: G, pure fluff

Pairing: Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader

Word Count: 500

Summary: For @lilacprincessofrecovery; Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

Warnings: self-doubt, talking down about one’s body, cavity-causing fluff

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist

Clark Kent may have been the best thing that ever happened to you. He made you laugh, he surprised you with gifts and gestures, and he helped you to learn to love yourself.

For every moment of self-doubt that made your heart race, he was there to soothe and heal your wounds. With every negative comment you had about your body, he would kiss and caress the area, letting you know exactly why he loved it.

He would watch you stare at your face from different angles in the bathroom mirror, then make you giggle by pressing kisses into your flesh quickly. He indeed was an amazing partner, always there to contradict your worry and praise you.

‘I just wish my stomach was flat,’ you would say, just for Clark to reply, ‘But then, what would I grab onto while I’m holding you?’

‘Maybe if my thighs weren’t so jiggly,’ you lament, Clark, countering with, ‘But they are the perfect size for my hands.’

He could bring you joy like no one else has before. Dancing with you to old love songs, his lack of dancing skills left you in shambles with laughter. Burning dinner by accident and having to use his super-breath to put out the flames on his casserole. He had wanted to surprise you with dinner after you had a rough day.

Where he failed at dancing and cooking, he excelled at expressing himself verbally and in the written word. He loved to leave you sweet love notes around the house, especially on every mirror in the house.

‘I may gain strength from the Sun, but you are the true light of my life.

I love every part of you, more and more with every day.

xoxo, Clark’

‘I can hear your heartbeat from across the world, like a beacon drawing me home.

I can safely say it is my favorite sound, it is music to my ears.

xoxo, Clark’

‘You are the best thing to ever happen to me.

My past, present, and future begin and end with you.

I would fly to the ends of the Earth just to pick you a rare flower to make you smile.

You just say the word and I will bring you whatever you desire.

You are my world, you are my love, and you are my hope.

xoxo, Clark’

You kept all of them in a small decorative box on your vanity. Whenever you would feel melancholy, you would take out each letter and read them aloud, feeling the love he put into every word. You knew wherever he was in the world, he could hear you reading them so you were never surprised when he would whoosh in to check on you.

He would wipe your tears and kiss your forehead. Hushing your cries with soothing words, he would cradle you in his arms. You felt so safe in his strong arms as if the entire world around you didn’t matter.

Clark Kent. The love of your life.

A/N: To my sweet @lilacprincessofrecovery, I hope you enjoy this story and I am very glad to have made a friend in you. 💙❤️

Tags: @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #clark kent #clark kent x reader #ellethespaceunicorn prompt fill #ellethespaceunicorn request fill

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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I have officially made a Fanfic Request spreadsheet. I have three stories to write for @enchantedbytomandhenry, @lilacprincessofrecovery, and one for a sweet nonnie. Just want you all to know I am working on the stories, while simultaneously writing Bright Like The Moon chapter 4.

Please be patient with me, I also just got some confusing health news today that kind of blew my mind and to combat falling into an anxiety spiral, I chose to organize my requests and do some writing.

xoxo, Elle 💜

#ellethespaceunicorn speaks #bright like the moon rant #fanfic request

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 months

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Part 30 - The game

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 29 -- Part 31

Pairing: Marshall x Lexi

Summary: Marshall and Lexi finally go on their first official date!

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, oral (f and m receiving), p-in-v, accidental facial, car sex, fluff... I think we're done with the angst part for these guys, finally?

Word count: 5.2k

Bingo: Facial (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: It's been a while since we've heard from the boys, and I know people (@deandoesthingstome and @geralts-yenn... it's always you two XD) have been waiting for this date. It's also officially my first entry for @henrycavillbingo!!! So enjoy!

@summersong69 @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos

“We’re going to be late,” you said anxiously as you were stuck in traffic for the second time since getting on the road to the game. Marshall threw his head back when he laughed.

“No way,” he said, “you always have us leave so early we usually get there before the doors even open.” You knew he was probably right, and you weren’t usually anxious about it like this, but the stakes were high tonight. It was warm in the car, and you tried your best not to tremble - it would look weird, he’d ask if you were cold, you’d say no, he would figure out you were nervous…

Of course you got there with time to spare. Somehow, your legs stopped working when you tried to get out of the car, which left Marshall waiting by your door.

“Were you planning on getting out of the car?” At least the bastard had the decency to not smirk or anything. Not that his genuine smile settled your nerves in any way. Oh no, if anything, that made it much worse. You took the hand he held out to you and let him help you out of the car.

“You’re shaking,” Marshall noted, “are you nervous?” Oh, he was smirking now. Alright, Alex, cards on the table. You took a shaky breath before you finally dared to speak.

“What if this doesn’t work, Marshall?” He chuckled softly as he pushed you back against the car and put both of his hands on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly leaned in and kissed you. It was quick and decent, you were standing in the middle of a parking lot, after all, but it still took your breath away.

“If this doesn’t work, Lexi,” Marshall said softly, “Peter will kick my ass and we’ll work it out.” You smiled. It was really comforting that Marshall had at least some confidence that the two of you would work together.

“Let’s get inside,” you said, “don’t want to miss warmups.”

“Here.” Marshall had a legendary talent for catching pucks. It had been that way for just under fifteen years now — it was almost a law of nature at this point. That meant you’d seen him do this almost a dozen times, but it had never warmed your heart the way it did now. The little kid in front of you looked up at him all wide-eyed and with an open mouth as he took the puck from him, murmuring a barely audible ‘thank you’ at the request of his father. After the initial excitement had passed, he turned around to Marshall again.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked Marshall while pointing at you. His father immediately turned to the kid to tell him he was being impolite, and to apologize to Marshall, but he shrugged it off.

“It’s alright,” he said. Then, he turned back to the kid. You knew exactly what he was going to say. Over the past six years, little kids had asked you this question countless times. He always answered that you were his best friend in the whole world, and the kids often thought that was very strange, because ‘you’re a boy and she’s a girl’ and they obviously couldn’t be friends. It was adorable.

“I haven’t asked,” Marshall answered, taking you by surprise. What happened to best friends? Like, yes, this was a date, but the little kid didn’t need to know that?

“You should, she’s really pretty,” the boy said before turning around again to watch the players.

“I’m no longer your best friend in the whole world?” He probably didn’t even feel the weak punch you gave him on the arm as you said it. You were on your way to your seats and it was getting really crowded. Normally, neither of you would hesitate to grab the other’s arm or hand so you wouldn’t get separated, but somehow, you didn’t dare to. It was a good thing Marshall was braver than you. His hands were always warm — it was a godsend at the rink, because you were freezing, as always. If it didn’t look ridiculous, you’d bring six blankets to the game. Marshall just wore a sweater. He owned one jacket, and you’d only ever seen him wear it while snowboarding. He squeezed your hand and pulled you towards your seats.

“‘Course you are,” Marshall said when you sat down, “but I meant what I said.” His words took you by surprise, for some reason. There had always been a part of you that had been convinced he wasn’t actually intent on seeing this through, that he was just humoring you by calling this a date. You couldn’t speak — you had no idea what you would say — so instead you opted to squeeze his hand and put your head on his shoulder.

The game was fantastic, and as always it was over way too soon. Your team won, which put you both in a really good mood. Fighting your way through the crowd on your way outside wasn’t as bad as usual, either, with Marshall right behind you. He held your hips the entire time, fingers digging in almost possessively at times. There were a few times where the crowd pushed you closer together — either that or he just took the fact you were surrounded by heaps of people as an excuse to grind his hips into your ass. Not that it was a problem for you: you’d been ready to go home with him ever since he almost punched the dude a row behind you who had offered some seriously unsolicited commentary on the way your ass looked in your jeans when you got up during the second break to get a drink. Even when you’d finally made your way out of the crowd, and you were walking back to his car, he didn’t let go of you until you got there. You didn’t linger in the parking lot, but he definitely didn’t make it seem like he was in any kind of hurry. It was a stark contrast to your own impatience.

“Marshall, pull over.” You clearly sounded serious enough to at least get him to look at you. He raised an eyebrow, carefully contemplating whether or not he dared to assume what you meant by that, but clearly chickened out at the last minute. You could see it in his face — that’s how well you knew him by now.

“How secluded do you need it?” It wasn’t a subtle inquiry, not by a long shot, but it was definitely a very Marshall-y extra security measure. You rolled your eyes at him.

“As much as possible.” It almost sounded as if you were teasing him. Apparently, Marshall knew a spot, because a few nonsensical turns later, you were parked somewhere in the middle of nowhere. You were somehow able to fit between the chairs and worm your way to the backseat, but there was no way that was going to work for Marshall — he’d have to get out. It was definitely an extra obstacle, and he almost begged you to let him drive you home so you could do this in either of your beds, but you refused.

“Get over here, now.” It wasn’t a question.

You knew he humored you by obliging, there was absolutely no reason for him to heed your request, he could have just driven off with you still in the backseat, but he either still really liked you or he really wanted whatever you had planned to happen — most likely a bit of both. The door had barely slammed shut or you practically lunged for him, pressing your mouth on his eagerly, passionately, and maybe with a hint of the built-up frustration from the past few weeks. You felt less ashamed of your enthusiasm when you felt Marshall’s tongue against your mouth, frantically begging for entrance, which you didn’t deny him. Moans escaped you as a strong hand hooked behind your knee, pulling you astride his lap. A content chuckle fell from Marshall’s lips when his fingers dug into your ass fiercely. You’d known he was an ass-guy for years; he and your brother had discussed it openly. What did surprise you was that he seemed really fond of your ass, and not in a ‘it’s pretty because it’s you’ kind of way, but a legitimate ‘this is a really good ass’ kind of way. If you could even tell the difference between the two…

His mouth wandered away from your lips to explore the exposed skin of your neck — which was a disappointingly small area, as the fact that you were going to a hockey game had kind of forced you to cover up more than you would have for a date to practically anywhere else. His mouth returned to yours as his hands continued the exploration, moving beneath your sweater instantly, rubbing your sides and back until they finally arrived at your chest. Every move he made fueled the fire that was growing between your legs with every passing second. Luckily, the action didn’t leave him unaffected either; every move of your hips lured moans from his throat as you brushed past the bulge in his trousers. God, you wanted to feel him inside you again. You had to. Later, you thought, you’re wearing jeans. Your brain was right, for a change: this car-idea wasn’t exactly solid. The whole operation might have been successful if you’d been wearing a skirt, but with the jeans you had on, it was borderline impossible without getting undressed completely, and that was a little bit too risky. But, you thought, clinging to the flimsiest excuse you could find to pin your desire on, do you really want to have lured him into the back seat for absolutely nothing?

The fact that you were even considering this — going down on a dude without him having asked for it — was a miracle of unknown proportions. Your friends thought you were weird because you didn’t like sucking dick, and guys weren’t particularly happy about it, either. Marshall was the only one who had told you that you shouldn’t do things you didn’t like — and that was probably exactly what made you want to do it. It wasn’t going to be a very romantic first time for the two of you — you were in the back seat of a car, after all — but it sure as hell would be hot. You reached between your bodies for the button and zipper of his jeans. It was impossible to take his cock out this way, so Marshall helped you pull his pants down slightly until you could take him out without hurting anyone. He moaned loudly when he felt your fingers wrap around his girth, and a few strokes of your hand were enough to leave him gasping. You moved away from him, desperately trying to find the least uncomfortable position to take him into your mouth.

“Lexi,” he said as soon as he figured out what your plan was, “you don’t have to…” You weren’t going to give him a chance to finish that sentence — partially because you were afraid you would change your mind, and you were damn sure you didn’t want that to happen.

“Marshall, I want to,” he didn’t seem to believe you at first, but that changed about as quickly as you would expect when your tongue circled the tip of his cock.

“Lex- f-fuck,” he moaned when you took him into your mouth, slowly moving your head up and down, using your hands to cover whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You almost stopped when you felt his hand around your wrist for a moment and heard him ask to loosen your grip a bit, but you pushed the thoughts away and listened for more moans, and sharp inhales and other signs of pleasure. You didn’t have to wait long. Every noise he made shot straight to your core, and you were absolutely sure you were completely soaked. Part of you wanted to call it quits and drive home as quickly as possible, so you could beg him to take you, but you didn’t. You settled at a pace Marshall really seemed to like and stuck with it for a while, relishing the moans and grunts you pulled from him.

At some point, a part of you became vaguely aware of the sloppiness of the entire situation, which really ruined the moment for you, because your anxiety ran away with it like no tomorrow.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” you said, laughing nervously while looking at the wet mess you were making.

“Lexi,” Marshall chuckled, “I like it that way, please keep going.” He gently put a hand on the back of your head and guided you back down. It wasn’t pushy or demanding, but rather almost reassuring. You felt a faint sense of pride when you thought about it; he wanted you back down there. That had to mean you were at least doing a half-decent job, right?

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, “you’re amazing.” His words set your core on fire and made your cheeks glow. Your insecurities disappeared, and you easily fell back into the rhythm you’d used before. You were so lost in what you were doing that you barely heard the warning he gave you, and even then, it didn’t register on time. By the time you’d actually processed what Marshall had said, had decided that ‘in your mouth’ wasn’t an option, and pulled away, you were too late. At least you had the common sense to close your eyes — stories from friends very much unanimously confirmed that eyes were a particularly terrible place for semen. Good going, Alex, you thought, first time you finish giving a blowjob and the guy nuts on your face. Great. You hid your face behind your hands instinctively, not wanting anyone to see you in this absolutely ridiculous and disgusting — or so you thought — state. The fact that Marshall was laughing — nervously, but still — didn’t make the situation better at all. You heard him frantically rummage around for something before he pulled your hands away and you found out what it was that he’d been looking for: Kleenex. It was your first real date with Marshall, and he was cleaning cum off your face in the backseat of his car. You considered this story a wild ride from start to finish, and decided you would be forever too mortified to tell it to anyone ever.

“Are you ok, Lexi?” Marshal sounded upset, which you’d hoped would make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. “I didn’t mean to… I thought I’d warned you on time… but you kept going, I… I’m so sorry.”

He pulled you into a solid hug, gently stroking your hair, whispering sweet words into your ear. You cursed yourself for your reaction; there was hardly any reason for you to be this upset about this, and yet you were. Terrified, humiliated and just upset. Marshall, however, didn’t seem too fazed by it — other than the fact that he didn’t like that he was the cause of the anxiety attack you seemed to be barreling towards with a steady pace.

“Lexi, talk to me, please? Are you angry with me?” Mad? At him? That was a weird question — so weird it pulled you away from your spiraling for a moment.

“Of course not! I’m dead afraid you’re mad at me!” The words were out before you realized you’d spoken, which was probably for the better. Sometimes you needed to speak impulsively, otherwise you’d say nothing at all. It was a big problem for you, you knew that.

“Darling, I’m not angry at all, in fact…” he paused, clearly contemplating whether or not he was really certain he wanted to say what he was thinking out loud. “There was actually something insanely hot about that.” The words came quickly, and he didn’t look at you while he said them. It was a shame it was too dark to really see his face, because you were fairly sure Marshall looked very cute when he was slightly embarrassed. You snuggled into his side, thinking about what he’d just said. Maybe you’d just been startled, maybe it hadn’t been so bad…

“I’m definitely going to need more regular practice before I let you try that again, Marshall,” you said jokingly — although it was only partially a joke… Both of you laughed at that. You stayed put for a while, snuggling against him before you decided you should make yourselves as decent as possible and get home.

The drive back took longer than you thought necessary, and you were distracted by the hand that Marshall kept on your thigh the whole time. It wasn’t until you were five minutes away from home that Marshall finally dared to ask whether he should drop you off at home or not.

“Your place is fine, Marshall,” you laughed as you squeezed his hand.

Mike was still up, but he just stopped interrogating Marshall about his night as soon as he saw you walk through the front door, cheekily wishing the both of you a good night. It made you laugh, and wonder why you never spent more time here, even when you and Marshall hung out as friends. You liked the guys he lived with, even though some of them could be assholes at times.

Marshall didn’t give you much time to think about it, because as soon as you set foot in his room, he made it abundantly clear that he was out of patience. In all honesty, so we’re you. Not to mention the fact that your confidence had received a pretty big boost from surviving the awkward moment in the car, which made you even more eager to get this show on the road. It was odd that that was the thing that gave you more confidence, when it would make so much more sense — even to you yourself — that it would have wrecked every last shred of it, instead. However, the way Marshall had reacted, calmed you down, and taken care of you, plus the fact that you had both been able to laugh about it so quickly after it had happened, made you feel so incredibly close to him. So comfortable, in fact, that it only made you want him more. Which was a good thing, because this was a man who wasn’t going to wait any longer to take what he needed.

You were still not sure how any of your clothes actually survived the way Marshall handled them, but they did. As soon as you were behind — or pinned against — closed doors, his hands slid underneath your sweater. It was on the floor in seconds. From there it was all a blur of sensations: his beard scratching your neck, prickly and rough compared to his lips and tongue against your skin; hands roughly sliding the straps of your bra off your shoulders, pulling it down to expose your breasts; calloused thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of your nipples; your high-pitched moans versus his low growls. You weaved your fingers into his curls, pulling him back into another passionate kiss.

He picked you up like it was nothing, and you eagerly wrapped your legs around him, grinding your hips against him in a less-than-successful attempt to find some of the friction your body craved.

“Fuck, Lex.” The words, carried on an exasperated exhale, were music to your ears.

You held on tight when you felt your back move away from the door as he carried you to his bed.

“You have to let go,” he said when you… well… didn’t let go.

“You’ll drop me,” you objected, to which he responded by chasing his head as he let out a chuckle.

“Onto my bed, yes,” he confirmed. God, whose idea was this? Yours. So suck it up, buttercup. And what were you even afraid of? It was Marshall, you trusted him… Carefully, you loosened your grip on his shoulders, and with a suppressed shriek you tumbled backwards — indeed onto his bed, where you were left lying down for a moment with Marshall standing over you and watching you with a dumb grin on his face.

“What?” you managed, raising an eyebrow. Was he having second thoughts?

“You’re in my bed,” he said softly before crawling onto the mattress too. That was it? He was just… happy you were here? It wasn’t completely unbelievable, of course, it just… set a tornado of butterflies loose in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck again while he maneuvered himself to sit between your legs. A gentle kiss on your lips followed as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra before moving on to your jeans.

You were ready for this. Prepared. Shaved — a rare occurrence in your life, because you’d generally rather die than have to live through three days in which the majority of your free time was spent with your legs open while irritation bumps reigned supreme. And this man had a beard. Fuck. Maybe he just wouldn’t go down on you again, now that he had you? Maybe he’d care as little as the others now that he was fairly sure you weren’t just going to run away?

“Lex?” You’d missed the part where his mouth had moved down your neck and towards your chest. “Take a decent breath, please, and stop spiraling.” The fact that he knew you so well warmed your heart, but at the same time you cursed yourself for being predictable and insecure.

Peeling your jeans — and underwear — off without taking his mouth off your breast proved impossible, and Marshall let out a loud sigh, breaking contact with your skin for a moment so he could get you naked. Then, he decided that he was better off without clothes as well, and you watched him take care of that. You were breathless — for whatever reason — as you watched his hands make quick work of his belt, and seeing him naked didn’t help that situation one bit.

“Get back here, I’m cold.” Weak excuse, but still effective, you thought as he moved back, his body not just comfortably warm against yours, but deliciously heavy. The feeling of his cock against your stomach made you swallow hard. It was too easy to forget just how huge he was, and the thought of things going wrong again had you halfway into panicking before he caught you again.

“Lex, I was hoping we’d have a good time together.” He glanced at you meaningfully, in that way only he could manage, and you hated him for it — but only a little. “I meant what I said on that trip: I refuse to hurt you. Help me do that, please?”

You couldn’t manage anything more than a slight nod as you tried to swallow away the lump in your throat.

Marshall quickly sealed his mouth over yours and kissed you so passionately it made your head spin, his hands aimlessly roaming your body for a moment. It was a classic ‘see, I’m not going straight for your boobs’-move.

“Go for it, Marshall,” you chuckled softly before laughing louder as he looked up at you with that look that all guys had when they’d been caught.

“I didn’t want to seem impatient,” he confessed. Were you imagining things or was he… blushing?

“Well, you’re doing a horrible job,” you teased him, to which he responded with immediate punishment — a gentle bite to your neck — before making his way further down. He spent just enough time with your breasts to avoid being accused of being impatient again, and then continued his journey south.

By the time he reached his destination, every nerve in your body was on edge, every breath shaky, and every part of you that could tremble, trembled in anticipation. He looked up at you as he let his fingers explore the smooth skin of your mound, his touch light, and accompanied by the exhilarating feeling of his breath against your skin. He wasn’t teasing you, per se, but it was still maddening — in the best possible way.

Sparks skittered up your spine when he groaned as he ran a finger between your lips, pushing it into you with ease. And then he lost the last shred of patience he’d been trying so incredibly hard to hold onto. The second he pressed his tongue against your clit, you knew you were done for. This would last exactly as long as he wanted it to — which, judging from the way he went about it, wasn’t long at all. In fact, the way he worked you up to your climax within two minutes was almost unromantically efficient. He got everything right; the pressure, speed, location — every flick of his tongue, every reaction to every last erratic move that your hips made as you came. You almost had to beg him to stop. Almost.

You knew the biggest mistake he could make now was to give you time to overthink the next step before taking that step — and he didn’t make that mistake. He hurried back up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he lined himself up with your entrance, breaking the kiss only to ask you a silent question.

“Please,” you gasped before pulling him down again, hungrily taking his bottom lip between your teeth. He wouldn’t hurt you. He couldn’t hurt you.

And he didn’t hurt you.

Marshall wouldn’t be Marshall, however, if he didn’t take his time to make sure you were definitely okay, his eyes and smile as kind as his clearly overcome-with-lust self could manage.

“I’m good,” you reassured him, fighting to get the words out in any kind of audible way. “You?”

Of course he’s good, he’s a guy and he’s getting laid. If only that voice in your head would ever shut the fuck up.

“I’m here with you,” he whispered. “I’ve never been better.” He gently rolled his hips, pushing even deeper into you, and you gasped as he filled you completely.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned. Now your patience was hanging by a thread, and you certainly weren’t too proud to beg him to finally move.

Every one of his long, slow thrusts pulled another sound from you, each one filled with more longing than the last. You’d missed him — in more ways than one. He’d held off on too much intimacy during the two weeks between the ski trip and tonight’s game, even though the both of you had been dying to touch each other when you’d gotten together for a movie night last week. You were glad that was over.

You reached for him, pulling his face closer to yours so you could kiss him. The way his lips moved against yours mirrored his thrusts perfectly; slow, deliberate, and absolutely heavenly. Still, you had half a mind to tell him to pick up the pace. You didn’t. Instead, you made a point of savoring each and every move of his hips, greedily meeting him as best you could, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to pull him even closer — which was physically impossible at this point.

“Having fun?” he asked, not really bothering to take his mouth off yours completely.

“And here I thought I was hiding it so well,” you giggled, before pushing his face a way a bit and looking at him. “Are you, though?”

“Lexi” — he stopped moving altogether — “what on earth makes you think I’m not having… at least the time of my life, maybe even better?”

“You’re not… You haven’t… I don’t know if you are, but…” You were worried he wasn’t close to coming yet. How hard was it to say that?

Apparently not very hard, because you ended up blurting it out like a complete idiot when you absolutely didn’t intend to. Great.

And to make matters worse, Marshall laughed. “Lex,” he said softly, “after that stunt you pulled in the car… It’s gonna be a while. Especially if we’re going this slow.”

“Then… don’t go slow?” you tried, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I’m going to enjoy this for as long as you’ll let me. You’re so cute when you moan.” He kissed your jaw, and then your neck, before moving his lips to your ear. “And you squeeze me so good.”

Before you could protest, he moved away from you, leaving you whining as he pulled out. He chuckled, and as always, the sound made you feel all giddy.

“Put this under your hips,” he said, handing you a pillow, and you whined again. There would be a lot of awkward maneuvering involved here, and— except it wasn’t awkward at all. Not with him. Besides… the sooner you got this over with, the sooner he’d get busy filling you up again, which was exactly what you needed.

The new angle was phenomenal, and even with his slow moves, you quickly felt the pressure build inside you. It startled you, at first, because it was unlike… well, not unlike anything — in fact, it was very much like something, but not exactly the same. You moaned into Marshall’s mouth as he kissed you, his thrusts still slow and deliberate, pulling desperate whines from you as he continued to work you up.

Then, you felt it. Different yet unmistakable. A crashing wave rather than the intense explosion of ecstasy you were used to.

“I think I just came,” you said, the sound of surprise in your voice actually taking you by surprise.

“Pretty sure you did,” Marshall replied with a cocky grin. “You’re still twitching around me.”

He pulled out of you, but wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, before scooping you off the bed so he could pull the covers out from under you. When you first came in, you’d been too busy sticking your tongue down his throat to notice he’d made his bed.

“You never make your bed,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean… There was a solid chance I was going to take my smoking hot date home. I figured I’d try to impress her.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she either noticed or cares,” you laughed in reply, snuggling into his side. “Anyway… the pillow… How did you know?”

“Honestly?” Marshall answered, a hint of unease to his voice.

“No, Marshall, by all means, lie to me.” You rolled your eyes. Boys.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “Cosmo.”

“I’m guessing the magazine, not the green half of the Fairly Odd Parents?” you asked, fighting the disbelief from your tone for just a moment longer, until he nodded in confirmation. “You read Cosmo? Like… you read Cosmo?”

“The whole house does,” he said to your surprise. “Ange has this habit of leaving them lying around for August when there’s something in there she thinks he should read. She doesn’t tell him what it is, so he has to read the whole thing — although he can reasonably skip the dieting tips and workout plans — and at some point we figured we’d all… There’s some pretty good stuff in there. I figure exhibit A would be the way you just came all over my dick.”

“Walter!”

#henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall smut #henry cavill smut #179 crescent street

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

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Part 6

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 5 🟣 Part 7

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Warnings: Mentions of blood, biting, vampire stuff.

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: Even more information incoming! And that conversation we've been waiting for...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @teamfan7asy @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @manysecrets2020 I know you didn't ask to be tagged but I figured... Sorry if I overstepped

The others indeed came back shortly after your conversation ended, and Mikey had a rather defeated look on his face. August immediately asked if you were up for it to talk to all of them, and seemed very happy when you said you were. All five of you moved to the living room, where you sat next to Mike on the couch. He immediately pulled you against him.

“Do you mind if I sit on the other side of you?” Sherlock asked politely. Something in his eyes told you the effect from the feeding hadn’t worn off completely.

“No problem at all,” you said with a smile before turning to the group in general. “So… Where do we start?” August opened his mouth to reply to your question, but Marshall quickly raised a hand.

“Mike,” he said, giving him a nod that clearly meant something – although you weren’t privy to what exactly that ‘something’ was.

“The guys want to…” Mike looked extremely uncomfortable as he struggled to find the words to explain what he was trying to explain, “… propose an arrangement, of sorts. I’m sure Sherlock has brought you up to speed on what the general idea is?”

“He has,” you answered, “it was very intriguing.”

“See?” August sneered from the other side of the room, but Marshall shut him up immediately. It was a good thing: Mike looked just about ready to jump him.

“Guys,” you interjected, “I’m willing to hear you out, but that’s all I’m promising. Besides, I’ll give you a fair warning upfront: Mike doesn’t look on board with this, and if he isn’t, then neither am I.” That seemed to relax him a little; you felt the tension in his body slack as you said it. At the same time, you noticed he felt colder than Sherlock. It was a very subtle difference, but it was definitely there. Marshall took over, telling August that he could get out of the room – only he used stronger terms – if he couldn’t behave.

“Thank you for at least taking this into consideration,” he said, “I understand it can be a very strange request if you don’t have any hands-on experience with the concept.” You noticed he wasn’t just talking to you, but to Mikey, too.

“Well, please allow us to drink your blood hardly feels equivalent to can you bring me home some chips from the store, so I’m definitely still adjusting,” you said. It was the truth: even though you were incredibly intrigued by the concept of these agreements, and – if you were being completely honest – very curious to find out what it would be like, it was still an overwhelming amount of information, and a rather uncomfortable topic.

“So is Mikey,” August said, and this time his tone was friendly enough for Marshall to let him speak, “he hates it when I say this, but he’s just a baby.” You could feel Mike tense up again, and a very low growl emerged from his throat. If August heard it – which you doubted – he paid it no mind. He didn’t pay much attention to Marshall’s warning, either.

“You’re the only one who has never experienced this type of thing?” You asked Mike carefully.

“Yeah, the others all have. At least, we assume that in nine hundred years, Sherlock’s…” Mike was clearly as uncomfortable talking about this as you were, and the others gave each other a few funny looks because of it.

“I have, indeed, been fortunate enough to experience this particular kind of relationship,” Sherlock replied kindly, telling Mike and the others what you already knew.

“Fortunate enough?” Mike repeated, seemingly a little lost for words.

“Yes, Mike, fortunate enough. At the time, the alternative was to feed from captives, often with the specific goal to kill them. We’re talking about the Middle Ages, for crying out loud, it was a far cry from a walk in the park in most aspects of life, Mikey.” Sherlock sounded vaguely desperate as he briefly recanted the story about his arrangement, giving them the exact amount of information that he had given you earlier in the afternoon. Marshall and August exchanged looks, and August scoffed when he saw the terrified expression on Mike’s face.

“You’ve never had to kill to feed, have you?” Mike shook his head slowly as an answer to August’s question.

“Has the… modern way, I guess, been around that long already?” You asked.

“Yes and no,” Marshall answered, “I very distinctly remember the time when they – government – decided the best course of action was to feed us exclusively animal blood.” Even Mike shuddered next to you when that was brought up.

“There was the ‘supplemental’ approach, I believe they called it,” August remembered, “diet of mainly human food, supplemented with donated blood every month. The amount was barely enough to last a week. Thank God for butter…” Butter? What the hell was he talking about?

“Couldn’t help but overhear,” Marshall said. You caught yourself as you were beginning to find his talent less annoying. “We’d end up just eating sticks of butter to keep from starving. It was ridiculously expensive, too…”

“Basically, you would be paying for enough food for a family of four, but it was just you,” Mike added. “There were volunteers in the eighties and nineties, but it was largely illegal. Do we have photos from those decades? Marshall with an eyebrow piercing is a sight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I met Mike because he hung out with a bunch of goths,” Marshall answered, but it sounded like he was avoiding something.

“What he means,” Mike added, “is that he was hooking up with my ex.”

“Ouch,” August blurted out. You were surprised he’d never heard this story before.

“It’s not common to disclose our entire histories,” Marshall answered that unasked question, “in cases like ours or – even worse – Sherlock’s, we’d be talking for a while.” Ok, that actually made sense.

He continued: “And Mike is right, I was hooking up with his ex. She went kinda nuts for the whole vampire thing… Actually, Mike… She wasn’t your ex when we started hooking up.” August’s eyes shot daggers at Marshall. He was no doubt thinking he’d for sure ruined any and all chances Mike would ever get on board with the proposal now. And he probably wasn’t wrong about that.

“I know,” Mike answered to everyone’s surprise, “I knew it when it was happening. Just didn’t care. She was shagging two or three other guys on the side; we weren’t all that committed.”

“Mike!”

“Hold up, you had no problem with your girl back in the day getting dicked down by other dudes, but you’re all up in arms about us feeding o-“ Marshall sighed and buried his face in his hands as he listened to August’s rant, and Mike interrupted him before he could even finish his sentence.

“Yeah, because this time around, I actually am committed, asshole.”

“Wh- Mikey?” That was actually quite flattering. You leaned into his side and allowed him to hug you. “You’re forgiven. Ish.”

“Thanks, babe,” he said as he leaned his head against yours. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda freaky how long ago…”

“Don’t dwell on it,” August said, which was probably the first piece of actually helpful advice you’d ever gotten from the man.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to move the conversation back to the topic to be discussed, “we’ve been circling this whole thing nicely. I promised I’d listen to your proposal… So, what is it?”

“Well,” August started. He sounded very calm, and ready to answer your every question. You guessed that of the three of them – Sherlock, Marshall and August himself, that was – he wanted this the most. “If you’d be open to some kind of arrangement, you’d be part of the negotiations of that agreement, of course, so there’s not a lot of specifics to present you with right now.”

“Just tell her what you told me,” Mike sighed as he grabbed you a little tighter.

“What we would like, is an opportunity to feed once every two weeks,” Marshall said. You were surprised; didn’t Mike say before that most vampires only fed once a month? The guys looked slightly uneasy when you asked about it.

“He did say that, and it’s the truth,” August answered your question. “It’s just not the whole truth. The experience is… annoying, and inconvenient, and not something you want to do very often. It takes out a good chunk out of your day, it’s… Just not very good.”

“They’d like to feed comfortably, instead of overfeeding to make it through as much time as possible,” Sherlock said. It was nice of him to draw the simple conclusion to all of this, but you noticed something strange.

“You say ‘they’, but you mean ‘we’, don’t you?” You were never certain of your ability to read others, but somehow you were extremely confident that you were right in this particular instance.

“Ah, yes. I won’t lie; I wouldn’t be opposed to the type of arrangement they’re proposing. But only if you’re entirely willing.” Sherlock said with an apologetic smile, as if he’d been trying to manipulate you through his use of words. You were fairly sure that had never been his intention. Nor could you find out to what end he would have said what he said.

“That applies to all of us,” Marshall said quickly, “none of us want to do this if you’re not up for it.”

“The rest of it, Marshall,” Mike urged. He was beginning to lose his patience, and had clearly agreed to go along with this for the duration of this conversation, but he didn’t look prepared to pretend to be unbothered by this for a second longer than was strictly necessary.

“Alright. A condition on your part would likely be that you run no risk of being turned, which would be a term we’d more than willingly agree to.”

“Garlic?”

“The same daily dose we’re already taking,” Mike clarified. Considering the kinky little secrets that were exposed earlier today, you weren’t surprised they were all taking precautions already. Marshall laughed when he heard your thought, but didn’t seem intent on sharing it with the others, which was awfully nice of him.

“Sherlock wasn’t able to accurately explain why ‘McBloodDrive’ didn’t cover all elements of such a relationship,” you said, “and he was hoping you’d be able to clarify. I really am curious about that.”

“It’s a great deal more intimate. Like you said yourself; letting us feed from you is a long way from just getting someone a snack. Or even cooking for someone.” Marshall folded his hands in his lap and sat back.

“Look,” August said, “there’s no denying these relationships are quite intimate. There’s a reason Sherlock wanted to sit next to you. The reaction to the feeding is quite strong, it can get a bit crazy at times. It can definitely be beneficial to you, you could ask us to do pretty much anything for you. We would like to ask you to not abuse that position, though. Other than that, there’s a degree of intimacy and affection involved that is tough to explain. You wouldn’t be just a food source to us. You’d allow us to exchange something inconvenient, uncomfortable, impersonal and generally just rather awful, for something that’s the complete opposite.” They were probably the friendliest, most sincere words you’ve ever heard August say, and you thanked him for the explanation.

“Maybe this is a weird question, August, but… You don’t even like me.” Mike and Marshall both laughed when you said that, somehow indicating to you that it wasn’t necessarily true.

“I wouldn’t say he doesn’t like you,” Mike said, “I know for a fact he liked you a little too much when I first introduced you to the guys.” What? August had a crush on you?

“He did,” Marshall said. August seemed to avoid your eyes on purpose – and you could imagine why.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m very much opposed to all of this,” Mike murmured.

“You’re afraid I’ll leave you for him?” you asked, and Mike nodded. “That wouldn’t happen, Mike, I love you. But that does settle things for me, guys. It’s not happening.”

“Well, we gave it a shot,” Marshall said. August, on the other hand, didn’t seem intent to just let this go.

“Is that the only reason you’re opposed to this, Mike?” he asked. The look in his eyes told you more than enough; it was. Now that you’d formally and definitively rejected their proposal, you noticed that there was definitely a part of you that wanted to do this for them – even August. It was the same thing you had felt when you had impulsively offered Sherlock to let him feed on you.

“It is,” he said flatly, as if he was understanding some implication made by August that you were missing – and in all fairness, he was probably getting loads more information because of his gift.

“And you don’t care that it goes against her nature?” What? No, you know what, before Marshall was going to answer that question, you were just going to ask it out loud.

“What?”

“There’s a certain… willingness we see in your kind to let us feed,” Sherlock answered. “In some Naturals it turns into more of a need.”

“That’s right,” August said smugly. “He’s not worried about it at all. He’s just planning on using her as his personal buffet. How do you justify that? Were you ever going to be…” The atmosphere in the room turned cold and hostile, and it wasn’t long before Marshall interrupted.

“August, that’s enough!” he snapped. It was enough to get August to shut up, which was nice. Mike relaxed again, and you sighed in relief when the pressure of his fingers on your hips disappeared – You were fairly sure there were bruises where his hands had dug into your skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Mike asked softly, gently stroking the spot he’d just assaulted to further soothe the lingering pain. You nodded, but barely. It was more than enough for all of them to notice, though. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” You thought about what August had said, but you weren’t going to continue the conversation with the others still in the room.

“Was he wrong?” you asked Mike when you were finally alone in your room again. He slumped down on your bed with a massive sigh.

“He wasn’t,” he said. You weren’t shocked; August was perceptive – even for a vampire, you guessed – and it did sound a lot like Mike to do something like that, even if he didn’t mean any harm by it. “I figured, if your inclination turned into a serious need – apparently that’s pretty common when a Natural lives with vampires, as far as anything surrounding your kind can be called ‘common’ – I’d ask if you’d be okay if I fed on you.”

“Were you going to manipulate me into it?” There was about a zero percent chance of getting an honest answer to a question like that if he had been planning on that, because why would he tell you the truth?

“There was a plan that someone might consider to be that, yes. Which is exactly what August pointed out to me when I told him about it. I should have known he would use it against me. I wasn’t going to go through with it,” he explained. In the end, that made August the manipulative one, which made more sense than Mike taking on that role, honestly. That being said, you were still pissed at Mike and you and August were overdue for a talk.

“August,” you said as you stepped into his room without knocking, “I think we ne- oh my God, I’m sorry!” You turned around immediately. Funnily enough, August didn’t move.

“If you go back outside and knock I might just put my cock away and let you in.” Why did everything he said have to be rude, abrasive and… he was just downright impossible. His next remark only made things worse: “If you’re gonna stand there, I’d rather you turn around and watch me, to be honest.”

That was it. You closed the distance between you two with a few aggressive strides.

“August Walker, put your dick back in your pants, go wash your hands, then get your ass back in here because we need to talk,” you snarled at him. He didn’t move, so you spoke again: “Move!” This time he did listen, and you were impressed with yourself.

He was back before you knew it, sitting on the edge of his bed as if he’d never moved.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Why do you have to be such a… cunt?” If there was a nice way to phrase that, you were less than inclined to look for it.

“I’m not the only one being a cunt, sweetheart,” August growled, “Mike is being a pain in the ass. He needs to grow up.”

“Mike doesn’t need to do anything, August.”

“He’s being greedy, keeping you all to himself. Do you think he’d react the same way if you decided to… sell?”

“’Sell’ as in… turn it into a job?” Somehow, the idea of letting strange vampires suck your blood for money seemed very… escort-y to you. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. It’s just not a job you saw yourself in. Now, that didn’t stop you from being extremely curious about it…

“Yeah. Do you have any idea of the kind of money you could make?” Sherlock had mentioned that vampires paid good money to feed on your kind…

“Oh, but you lot just want to use me as a free buffet?” That was downright insulting! Somewhere deep down inside you knew you were grasping at straws here, looking for a reason to stay mad at the guys so you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that there genuinely was a part of you that didn’t like the way that conversation had ended. A part of you that wanted to be there for them in the way they had proposed. Besides, it was almost impossible to forget the way it had felt…

“We never said anything about ‘free’, princess, we said you’d be part of the negotiations.” August snarled. “The second you said ‘no’, Mike knew what you really wanted. Even before that, but he was in denial. He knows he’s hurting you. He knows you want this. He’s just being a kid about it.” You thought about what he said for a moment, especially the part about the negotiations. For the first time, you realized you had never actually considered what those negotiations could really entail. It was too late to ask about it now, of course. And you were happy with your decision, right? You were doing this – or rather; not doing this – for Mikey. Right?

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked softly, remembering what Sherlock had said. Fine; what you had said to Sherlock – and that Sherlock had confirmed: Mike was only baby-vampire. And you should never tell him that out loud.

“Taking into consideration the fact that he is a kid? Not really. He needs time to adjust to the idea, I guess.” August sighed and put his hands on your shoulders. “Look, I’ll try to be less of a prick, okay? But I’ll do that for your sake. Not his.” It seemed to you like that was all you’d get from August, so you agreed.

#mike hellraiser fic #mike x ofc #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 10 months

Text

White blossoms - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

If you like this fic, please remember to reblog so that others may also see it!

Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, some more angst. Shenanigans. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

@deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81

It was the agonizing pain in your shoulder and leg that awoke you from your slumber, and the scalding heat that soared within your body that prevented you from drifting off again, yet despite your efforts, your eyes did not open. You were only vaguely aware of your surroundings: you were lying on a bed, a blanket draped over the lower half of your body, and two voices in animated conversation relatively close to you. One of these voices belonged to Tristan, the other… your mother. You were home! You had made it! With that realization, there came no triumphant feeling, no sense of victory, or even a glimmer of hope, for the fever surged through your body once again, this time pulling you under and swallowing you into the darkness.

When you regained consciousness, the bickering had stopped, as had the roaring fires that had scorched your body from the inside out. The significant pain in your chest and leg seemed to also have subsided quite a bit, but in no way enough to put you out of your misery completely. The most comforting sensation, however, was the soft, beautiful singing next to you – presumably coming from the same person that pressed something warm and damp to your wounds. The pain it caused made you wince, and your brows draw together in a frown, both form agony and confusion.

Very slowly, you opened your eyes, the light in the room – as dim as it was – uncomfortable at first, to such an extent that it was impossible to see anything for a short while.

“Melot?” That voice. You had dreamt of that voice countless times since you had left, and now you finally heard it again. Tamsyn. There was nothing in that moment that you wanted more than to pick her up and hold her in your arms as you promised her you would never leave her side again – the problem was that you couldn’t seem to move no matter how hard you tried. It took every bit of strength you had in your body to smile as she called your name again, and then your eyelids fell shut again as she continued to tend to your wounds.

“Is he awake?” you heard your mother ask from a corner of the room.

“His eyes were open,” Tamsyn replied, “but only briefly. We should let him rest.” And rest you did, always in your dreams kept company by memories of your soon-to-be wife.

“I am terribly sorry we have to meet like this,” you said, startling her as you came up behind her.

“There is no need to apologize, my lord,” she said timidly, “I understand.” As soon as she moved to curtsy, you placed your finger gently beneath her chin and tilted her head up towards yours.

“Please don’t bow to me,” you spoke softly as you looked into her eyes. They were large, and a stunning shade of brown, you noticed, and they looked absolutely perfect combined with the collection of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

“As you wish, my lord,” she replied. Her words made you sigh, a sound which seemed to instil fear in the young woman.

“Call me Melot,” you asked her, smiling kindly as she repeated your name, her voice trembling slightly as she skipped your title for the first time. After that, neither of you spoke for a while. It felt silly, to stand there and say nothing, but you felt so utterly unsure of what to do, that words eluded you completely.

“Say something, please,” you said after a while, a low chuckle to your voice so as to hide your embarrassment at your inability to keep a conversation with the lady in your company.

“You have a beautiful horse,” Tamsyn blurted out, taken aback by your request. Her remark made you laugh louder, causing her cheeks to turn pink.

“She is, isn’t she,” you replied, happy to engage in whatever conversation that would stave off your nerves at this time.

“Is she yours?” Tamsyn inquired.

“She is,” you said, explaining how you had raised her over the course of the past four years. “Do you ride?”

“Oh, not if I can avoid it,” she said shyly, avoiding your eyes as she confessed: “I’m rather useless at it.”

From that moment on, each conversation you had with her was slightly easier than the one before, and after only a short while, you had found yourself reaching for her hand as you walked through the woods together. You were careful not to be seen, but it turned out to be impossible to hide from your friends – which is why you decided not to try. It took a few weeks of secret meetings before you dared to broach the subject of Tamsyn with your uncle, who at first rejected the notion of your courting a peasant girl wholeheartedly. It wasn’t until, through some fortuitous twist of fate – which, in your life, most often carried the name ‘Beryan’ – Tamsyn had been asked to sing at a feast in the castle, that the king learned of her beauty and talent, and he had granted you his blessing to court the young woman.

That morning you were taking care of some chores around the house that you had fallen behind on as you continued to help Yselle with the injured men. A week had passed since the warriors had returned, but Melot had yet to wake up. A few times he had opened his eyes, or he had moved his fingers slightly as you tended to his wounds, but he was never able to speak or move. The most you had received from him so far was a smile that had cost him more effort than it had been worth. Every day, you saw him twice. His mother still disallowed you access to his chambers for reasons beyond caring for him. It irked you, but only slightly, for as much as you longed to sit by his side all day and care for him, you knew it would be improper for you to do so. Thus, you decided not to push the matter, as lady Rhian was already nearly continuously occupied with the strenuous task of keeping Beryan away from her son. Beryan, on the other hand, grew more agitated about the situation with every passing day, snapping at you every time you visited her to tell her how he was doing.

“I can’t believe she refuses to let me see him for a minute!” she shouted as she paced through the corridor outside his room after having been shown the door for what must be the hundredth time.

“Young lady!” The door opened again, and lady Rhian poked her head around it to glare at Beryan. “I would strongly suggest you mind your manners! Make yourself scarce, now!”

“Can I stand in the doorway?”

“No,” lady Rhian snapped. “I have been far too patient with you, Beryan. Disappear, immediately!” You assured Beryan that Melot was going to be alright; that his wounds were healing nicely, and his temperature had returned to normal. It was strange, offering her this comfort while you yourself dreaded the moment his injuries no longer required you to check on them daily. You were certain lady Rhian would banish you from his quarters the moment your services as a healer were no longer required. As unhappy as you would be about not getting to see him anymore, you knew you would not complain: Melot’s mother was indulging you already, it would be foolish to tempt the fates.

While you worked on cleaning and dressing his wounds, you sang to him, as you always did. So far, he had opened his eyes twice, but neither of those times had he been conscious enough to reply to your or his mother’s queries. Other times, he had been conscious, but too weak or in too much pain to speak. This time, after applying the compress to his leg, you took his hand, softly caressing it as you finished your song.

“Please, continue.” Were you imagining things? Upon looking at Melot’s face, you concluded you must have been. His eyes were closed, and he looked as fast asleep as he had all these days before.

“Tamsyn, please.” This time, you witnessed the movement of his lips, though that did nothing to erase your conviction that you were slowly going mad.

“Did he just speak?” lady Rhian asked as she joined you by Melot’s bed. If she had heard it, too... The chances of you both seeing – or rather, hearing – ghosts were slim.

“I did,” he answered, his eyes still closed. You looked at lady Rhian as you felt Melot’s fingers squeeze your hand lightly. To stay put and not throw your arms around his bare shoulders to pull him close, took every bit of strength you had within you. Instead, you tightened your grip on his hand, gently dragging your thumb over the back of it, as you started singing again. Melot hummed contently, making no further efforts to speak. You watched his face while you sang, your smile widening as his eyes slowly opened.

Your singing continued as you waited for the poultices to do their work. Now that he was awake, taking care of his wounds would likely cause him more pain than it had before, when he had still been unconscious, and you dreaded the moment you would have to salve his injuries.

“God almighty, dear, I shall be glad to call you family,” lady Rhian said softly, putting a hand to the side of her son’s face, her voice breaking as she spoke to him. “My son, I was scared I had lost you for good this time.”

“Only the good die young, mother,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lady Rhian took a cup you knew to be filled with the willow bark infusion you had instructed her to make, and lifted it to his lips. As he swallowed a sip, he grimaced.

“That is absolutely foul,” he groaned.

“Shush, it’s good for you,” you berated him, swatting at the back of his hand.

“God, you women are all the same, aren’t you?” he complained – fruitlessly, of course.

You removed the compresses from his wounds after some time, and as you had expected, he winced and moaned every time you touched him.

“Melot! Stop moving right this moment!” you exclaimed after he had turned away from your touch for the so-manieth time as you tried to apply ointment to his wounds. “You are making this impossible! Stop!”

From the other side of his bed, his mother chuckled softly. “You will make a fine wife, my dear child.”

Melot continued his whining as you finished with his leg, and somehow managed to be even worse about the wound on his chest. Eventually you managed to dress his wound – if it hadn’t hurt him so much, perhaps you would have dragged it out a bit so that you may have had the chance to speak with him for a while longer. You began to gather your things, getting ready to leave, while lady Rhian walked to the door to investigate a noise she heard in the hallway. A noise that turned out to come from Gerant, Elowen and Tristan, who had come to check on Melot. Lady Rhian invited them into the room, and you hoped with all your heart that Beryan couldn’t see it.

“Sit with him while I fetch his uncle,” she said, taking your hand in hers for a moment before disappearing into the corridor.

“Kiss her, you fool!” Gerant hissed after he shut the door behind Melot’s mother and listened for her footsteps to disappear into the distance. Melot tried to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto his bed, leaning in to kiss him, instead. When your lips touched, something inside of you felt like it was finally home again; as if after many weeks of floating around in the air, your feet touched the ground at last. You heard the door open again and pulled away from Melot abruptly, thinking you were done for. Oh, if the king were to see you like this! Luckily, it wasn’t lady Rhian who had returned with king Marke, but rather Beryan, who had finally been given her chance to sneak into the room to see her friend.

“Mely!” she said – probably without thinking, because Melot scowled at her and Gerant and Tristan snickered.

“Did she just call him Mely?” Tristan asked his friend, who answered his question affirmatively.

“Dear God, you look awful,” she said as she sank to her knees next to the bed.

“You sound surprised,” Melot rasped, his voice as hoarse as before, but now even weaker, signalling that he was growing tired.

“Your mother wouldn’t let me see you,” she explained.

“And I still do not permit it!” Everybody in the room froze as they heard the voice behind them. “You, young lady, cannot be in my son’s bedchamber unattended, especially when he isn’t properly dressed!”

“Mother,” Tristan interjected before anyone else could, “might I call to your attention the fact that you invited Gerant and his wife into the room with us to act as chaperones?” His remark seemed to calm lady Rhian a bit, though she was still fuming at seeing Beryan in the room. Behind her stood king Marke, equally upset at the display before his eyes.

“Get out of here, now, lady Beryan,” he spoke slowly, “and I will tell no one of this. You will not see my nephew again until he is out of this room, understood?” “Yes, your Majesty,” she said timidly as she bowed to the king and hurried out of the room.

#melot fanfiction #melot #melot fanfic #melot x ofc #tristan + isolde #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

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