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zarnzarn · 3 years

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Stolitz fic rec!!

I'm going to just drop my favorite stolitz fics here.

They run at night by @wearemisfortune

Blitzo is always moving because when his body stops, his mind races. This almost always leads to a terrible fucking idea.

Tonight is no different—but the result will be.

-lovely angst, lovely climax, and it captures Blitz's line of thinking in a serious tone but in a way still feels authentic to the character. And I'm ALWAYS a sucker for the sheer unconditional trust trope.

Junctures by @sluttycrimehat

To everything, there is a season.

-I still am in complete awe of how the author managed to fit so much in such little time. The bit at the end always fucking gets me, I love it so MUCH.

The last general by @curtailed

It's in a month after, with Stolas spent and lying on his side, that Blitzo finally musters up the courage to tell him.

-Hello??? BEAUTIFUL post-harvest moon fic, wonderful vibes, love how well they know each other in this one, the trust is amazing. Love it.

You got everything that I want by @bipridemoth

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him.

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas.

-Stolas angst!!!! The angst really is delicious in this one, with just as nice of a happy ending. Blitz is confident about the relationship, which is Wonderful to read and the "I know where this is going" segment had me in TEARS.

Between fairy tales and realities by @coloringthegreyscale

Blitzo's a complicated imp and Striker and Stolas accept that. But what happens when the two worlds he's made for himself collide together for one night? Well...

-Okay, so yes, this is striker/blitz/stolas, but it's so good. All three of them have a lovely dynamic, managing to work out somehow, with powerful Stolas, wonderful Blitz and a HILARIOUS Striker. Go read the series, it's a lot of fun and has many cute interactions that made me smile.

The look by @seireileafy

Blitz has been noticing a change in Stolas.

-It's such a CUTE drabble, I adore when one person can tell the other is pining for them, and the LAST LINE FUCKING GETS ME EVERY TIME-

Instead I made my bed with apathy by @thebooklord15

Just like every night before this one, Blitzo glared at the form next to him, already lulled into the bliss of slumber. He had never meant for things to turn out this way-he’d gotten the grimoire already, he didn’t need this man and from the way Stolas treated him it was clear he did not need the imp either.

And yet.

-Jcjdkafj this one is so GOOD I love blitz being pissed off yet too deep in to stop, and like I've said for others already THAT LAST LINE, PLEASE-

Call and response by anon

It was a love story, maybe.

-short but deliciously angsty, with some beautiful imagery, really nice dialogue, and time-doesn't-exist-in-this-motel-room vibes. Love it.

Shovel proof by @kereea

Octavia tries to give Blitzo the shovel talk. He decides to help with that.

-FUCKING cute, love the Octavia/Blitz dynamic, and it has snappy fun dialogue!! Really sweet.

Reaching out, touching me, touching you by @allmightshipserasermic

Stolas hasn’t been able to preen sufficiently in quite awhile, since Stella refuses to do it for him anymore. Blitzo offers to help.

-PREENING FIC is there anything more I have to say?

The skin you could have by @coloringthegreyscale

Stolas catches Blitzo staring and it leads to some talk, some magic, and a little bit of fun.

-Again, BEAUTIFUL dynamic between the two, lots of angsty tenderness, and lovely body imagery.

Different shapes by @sirdust

“Before the exorcist, he taketh the image and shape of a man.”

Blitz catches a glimpse of Stolas’ human form.

-okay, practically a direct opposite of the previous fic, but SO GOOD, I can't describe it. Love the imagery and their comfortable relationship.

A helluva mess by @stratumgermanitivum

It’s not like Stolas isn’t a hot piece of ass, because he is.

And it’s not like Blitzo’s blind or anything, because he isn’t.

It’s just that there’s pleasure, and then there’s business, and never the twain shall meet. (Unless he finally gets Moxx on board with that threeway, in which case, Blitzo fully intends to christen every damn surface of the office except his precious Loony’s desk.)

-AMAZING, love the pining and denial on both sides it's so great especially since you can tell both sides know that they've messed up. Again, LAST LINE!!

Eat the whole cake (it's what you deserve) by @okoyik

"His Highness is on the phone for you, sir," Moxxie says.

Blitzo makes a face. "Who?"

"Stolas," Moxxie supplies, as if that's supposed to help Blitzo understand. His expression is surely one of complete confusion as he stares at the other imp.

"Who the fuck is Stolas?" Blitzo asks slowly, racking his brain for a face to put to the name.

Blitzo's memory starts to slip, and all he knows is he needs that owl that seems to haunt his nightmares to stay away.

-HELLO it's only on one out of four chapters for now but it's already SO GOOD I can't WAIT for the rest!!!

Stand tall, but your hands are shaking by @remymorton

It’s been a month since the Harvest Moon festival. Another full moon night arrived, and after that... Blitz ... He's not well.

-wordless cute comfort, truly very sweet, I love it.

Palaces and souvenirs by @cloudysonder

So Stolas is objectively. Objectively. Attractive. Kinda soft-looking, sometimes. Pretty. Whatever. Fuckin’ whatever. That’s always been a thing. Blitzo knew that, Stolas definitely knew that-- whatever.

"This is not," Blitzo thinks, sounding a little bit desperate even to himself, "some sort of revelation."

His flicks of the lighter get a little more unstable, a little more frustrated.

A clawed hand reaches over and takes hold of the lighter, lighting Blitzo’s cigarette with practiced ease, as if he’d done the same thing a thousand times before (He has, Blitzo realizes).

“Silly Blitzy,” he giggles quietly, giving Blitzo a soft pat on the head before curling up beside him, stretching one last time before closing his eyes to sleep.

Blitzo feels warm.

"This," Blitzo tells himself, and it sounds like a command, "will not be a problem."

-I saw the start of this fic on Twitter and have been following it religiously ever since. It's really a gorgeous fic, three chapters up, with the promise of a Great slow burn, fun dialogue and Octavia & Blitz bonding. The level of denial Blitz is in even as he moves comfortably around every aspect of Stolas' life cracks me tf up.

Can't by @hazbincalifornia

Blitzo realizes he feels something something that he doesn't want to feel. This was supposed to be simple.

-feelings realization fic, wonderful, amazing, lovely, also the exact same way I realized I was gay, funnily enough (girl fell asleep in my lap and I was like oh. Oh fuck.)

Too late to stop by @malkaviancake

Stolas spends some time with his thoughts, realizing that his feelings for Blitzo aren't as one sided as he presumed.

-GORGEOUS vocab, I'm truly very obsessed with it. Like most of these stories, LAST LINE!!!!

Itchy with want, thin on sleep by me

It happens in parts- both falling in love and having his eyes opened.

-I will,, finish this one day, but for now here's a few in between moments before they have The Conversation.

Heaven in hiding by me

Their nights together are good, they always are, both of their tastes lining up to be shockingly compatible, but on the days where they end early and they get to spend some extra time cleaning up in comfortable silence or playful banter- and Blitz would rather take a bullet than admit this out loud- but those nights are pretty great too.

-AFTERCARE FIC, I had to write an aftercare fic ft. Good dom Blitz, Stolas taking care of him in return and a comfortable relationship that they both know is going to cause Problems in the future :)

Love in the bones and sinews of this curse by me

Five times Stolas and Blitz needed the grimoire to break a curse + one time they didn't.

-self explanatory. I tried to make it as funny as possible, everyone bickers a lot and Blitz brings Stolas flowers and gifts, what more could you need?

Life is a curse (love makes it worse) by me

"Alright!" Blitz says, clapping his hands together, "Weapons out, and-"

Half pull out some gun or the other, but half just look at him blankly. Blitz wishes for death.

"Save me from this family," He mutters under his breath, "Okay. Take these then." He passes out the few weapons he'd brought along with him and doesn't ask if they know how to use them because if he hears a no, he's giving up and going back home. "Stick close and talk loudly so the others can hear us. Let's go."

They move out, Blitz taking the lead and the rest forming a circle close behind him, starting up a loud conversation about the neighbour's garden. It gives him enough time to wonder exactly what the fuck he's doing here, in a nightmare world with a bunch of pretentious snobs, searching for his stupid Ars Goetia boyfriend, instead of sleeping in his nice lumpy bed back at home.

-a sequel to the previous fic!!! I had to write some Octavia and Blitz bonding, and accidentally added in a bunch of teenage imps who work for Stolas who imprint on Blitz immediately. And there's Eldritch Stolas, protective boyfriends and found family!!! The whole shebang!!!

This ended up being Much longer than I'd expected, but genuinely every fic up there is really good, go check em out!!!!

#stolitz #blitz #blitzo #stolas #helluva boss #PHEW im exhausted #stolitz fic rec #stolitz fic recs #stolitz fic #helluva boss fic rec #my fic #i mean i put some of my fics up there so #also to all my mutuals in this post ily #stolas x blitz #stolas x blitzo

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trashcanfanfics · 3 years

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S/o taking care of a sick (separated) I.M.P team and blitzo being cute :)

I love sick comfort shit it's so cute!!

Blitz:

*A whiney baby

*You came over to his place to hang out only to end up taking care of the prissiest priss to ever priss

*You made him soup, took his temp, gave him medicine (that you had to fight him to take) and tucked him in

*"Baaaaaaaaabe can you fluff up my pillow?"

*"Honey bunches, can I have a cuddle?" (he used his baby voice and puppy dog eyes to try and convince you)

*It took all your willpower to resist because you'll be damned if you get sick because of him

*"Kissies??" You caved and gave him a soft smooch to the forehead

*That's not what he meant but he'll take it with a pout

*"You could probably suck my dick without getting sick"

*You gave him a look while he gave you a shiteating grin

*Read him stories and do all the voices and he'll be asleep in no time

Loona:

*Refuses to acknowledge she's sick and just sits on her phone on the couch

*You notice and force her to get rest (lovingly)

*She secretly likes you doting on her but will refuse medicine (you considered wrapping the dayquil pill in bacon)

*Eats the soup and drinks water, has no problem getting rest

*Reaches out for you in her sleep and eventually grabs you, cuddling you whether you want it or not

*Licks your face in appreciation, and hates how she can't taste

*Her ears and nose are clogged, literally leaving her without her senses and she hates it

*Whines slightly when the aching gets to be too much and you (finally) get her to take medicine with the promise that she'll feel better with it

*You end up getting sick when she gets better but that's okay, now its her turn to frantically try to replicate what you did

Millie:

*The easiest to take care of

*Literally eats what you give her, takes the medicine, and gets all the rest she needs

*You do everything and she's thanking you the whole time

*Slightly delirious though

*Talked about purple people and how she kept seeing them behind the door when you left

*It freaked you out a little so you moved her to the couch in the living room, you'd deal with the spooks later

*You tied her hair up to keep it off her neck because she was getting overheated

*She kept talking about the purple people

*You shut the door to the bedroom and kept all the lights on throughout the entire time she was sick

*Fuck purple people

Moxxie:

*Continues to try and work through the sickness

*You have to drag him from his desk and bundle him up tight to make him stay put

*Is pouty but will do everything he needs to to get better

*Lovingly watches as you go around, tidying up the apartment amd taking care of him

*It makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside

*Will babble about how he loves you and that you're too good to him

*You do the paper work he was working on and he melts at your thoughtfulness

*When he feels good enough to get up and walk around, he tries to get back to work, only to get really sick again

*"Just one more paper!" "No! Get to bed!"

#helluva boss x reader #blitzo x reader #loona x reader #millie x reader #moxxie x reader #helluva boss headcanon #trashcan answers you

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hazbincalifornia · 2 years

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ficlet: stolas pulls blitzø into a private place to steal a tender kiss that blitzø may or may not like a little too much 👀

There were two firm raps on Blitzo's office door before it swung open without a chance for him to reply. "Are you busy?" Stolas asked, and Blitzo groaned.

"Yeah, actually. I have to choose a plan for the advertising budget, Moxxie made up a couple of options, and-"

"Oh, nothing too awful, then." Stolas waved a hand.

"It's still-"

"Are you enjoying it?"

"No," Blitzo grumbled.

"Can it wait ten minutes?"

"Yeah."

"Good! I was in the worst meeting and I figured I could cheer us both up." Stolas waved his hands outward as a portal bloomed from between them, gesturing towards it, and Blitzo rolled his eyes, pushing back from the desk and hopping through.

His feet landed on soft moss, and as he looked around, a thousand glittering crystals reflected off each other with the portal's shimmering light from where they were embedded in cave walls.

"Where are we?"

"Mmmm, a little place on the far edges of Wrath- it's burrowed below that particular ring, but above the next. Nice and private." Stolas closed the portal behind them, and Blitzo's chest stuttered for a moment at how thoroughly they were cut off from the outside world before Stolas's legs folded, settling down on his butt and leaving him eye-level with Blitzo. "Now, what I came for..."

"You better not expect me to fuck you in here, that thing in your garden was bad enough. I'm still picking soil out of my ass."

Stolas chuckled, setting one hand on Blitzo's cheek. "No, no, nothing so far today." His thumb smoothed over the white skin, and Blitzo leaned forward a bit with his eyes already closed, meeting Stolas in the middle.

It wasn't as frantic as their kisses often were, and Blitzo wasn't lost in it immediately- with their more leisurely pace, he could feel every minute movement. How Stolas's hand dipped down to rest on his hip, how his head shifted slightly to get a better position, how well their mouths fit when they were resting on each other instead of pushed together. Stolas's warm breath tasted like cinnamon, and when he opened his eyes slightly, the crystal's off-white light shimmered off the owl's gray feathers- they were still glowing even without the portal, so the cave itself must have been generating the light somehow. Perhaps its magical properties were what had drawn Stolas here in the first place.

Blitzo's hands settled on either side of the prince's face, fingers sinking slightly into the infinite softness of the feathers there. It was surprisingly cozy considering they were underground, warmth spreading from his chest and tingling in his outer extremities as Stolas gave a pleased little hum. Blitzo only realized that he was purring when he felt that hum buzzing against his chest- he'd leaned in closer without realizing it, pressing his own chest against Stolas's, and they'd harmonized as the end of his tail curled up against his spine. Stolas's eyes fluttered open as he smiled against Blitzo's mouth, the red all Blitzo could see at this close of a range, and Blitzo's fingers tightened, tugging him in closer while opening his mouth wider.

Stolas was more than happy to continue, letting his eyes close again along with Blitzo’s as they kissed under glittering faux-starlight.

#joeldavvson #asks #anonymous #anniversary ficlets #shadow writes stuff #stolitz

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yanderes-galore · 3 years

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Hello! Yes! I have waited for the time you would open your inbox, I am so happy! Since my taste in things are always niche, if it won't be too much to ask would you please write Yandere Wilhelm? I love this cyborg man, and I love your writing, so it would be great if you did.

I can try ^^ I'm doing HCs.

I had to watch some lore videos, I haven't played him lol.

After seeing lore videos I'm mad they didn't do much with him.

I played Athena in BL Pre-Sequel

Yandere! Wilhelm HCs/ Behavioral Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Yandere behavior, jealousy, threats, violence, implied murder.

- Wilhelm is not a cyborg who has thought much of love or affection.

- He's only ever thought of becoming a robot and as a result being more powerful.

- And the money, of course.

- That was his goal so soft emotions like this never really passed his mind. He didn't even have flings, really.

- So when he's hired by Jack and meets you with the other vault hunters, he thinks nothing of it.

- You're both here for your own reasons so he only needs to cooperate with you and the others.

- He'll admit, you're a good battle companion.

- You don't get in his way and he respects that.

- You seem to know what you're doing.

- He is another Yandere who's attraction to you his subtle.

- It's all in his body language. He's usually focused on his work so 'affection' towards you starts subtle.

- You find Wolf and Saint, his drones, around you a lot more often.

- The extra fire power is greatly appreciated.

- You could ask him about this, ask if he was doing this in exchange for a favor.

- But his only reply is a solid "No."

- Classic Wilhelm....

- He isn't a very anxious Yandere, so he won't be too worried about you getting yourself killed.

- He's seen you fight. You aren't that reckless.

- He can get irritated, though.

- Jealousy from him often shows as irritation.

- You may get too close or touchy with another vault hunter at Moxxi's bar for some down time between missions.

- He isn't showing it much but he feels more tense.

- His teeth grind ever so slightly and he's trying to look away from the scene.

- His attitude changes if you're touchy with him, though.

- He's calm, not irritated like he would be if someone else touched him.

- People would ask him if he's upset at all with you being so affectionate, he'll either not reply or say "No." again.

- It looks awfully one-sided, like Wilhelm doesn't pay attention to you.

- It's not that, however, it's just the cyborg isn't sure how to feel about this soft warm feeling...

- He doesn't hate it, really.

- It's a nice feeling that encourages him.

- Just because he looks indifferent to it, doesn't mean he wants it to go away.

- The longer he's around you, the more often jealousy can pool in him.

- He isn't afraid to threaten someone he'll shoot them if they try to get touchy or harm you.

- Or he'll actually just shoot them....

- Even though Wilhelm puts missions high on his priority list, he feels you're high on there too.

- There's no time for kidnapping, but you need to stay by him anyways.

- You're both working towards a common goal, it would be poor choice to abandon him.

- "We're not getting paid to fool around, stay close and don't do anything annoying...."

#yandere borderlands pre sequel #yandere wilhelm

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ryosei-hime · 3 years

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Candlelight

Stolas catches Blitz on a bad day in the office. Squeezing this one in under the line! No time for editing! *yeets it onto the internet* Also available on AO3

Stolas sat on the couch in the IMP office, bouncing a crossed leg as he waited for Blitz to see him. He knew the likelihood that Blitz had actual business to attend to was rather low. But Blitzy loved to tease him. The waiting only made him want the little imp more, the anticipation making it all the sweeter when he finally managed to steal a bit of his attention outside of their full moon rendezvous.

“Can I get you something to drink, your highness?” Moxxie asked, clearly nervous in his presence.

Stolas held up a hand in dismissal.

“No, thank you. But if you could check when your boss will be able to see me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes, sir,” Moxxie replied, hurrying off to Blitz’s office.

Stolas looked around the office calmly, patiently waiting, and entirely oblivious to the gesturing shadows in the window of the door behind him. Soon, Moxxie returned and cleared his throat.

“He can see you now.”

“Thank you.”

Stolas stood elegantly and made his way to Blitz’s office, closing the door behind him before having a seat across from him. Blitz was on the phone, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“I’m on hold with the power company,” he explained. “But since I won’t be talking to a living fucking person for the next five years, what do you want?”

Stolas leaned against the desk, chin in hand, as he gave Blitz a seductive look.

“Oh, nothing in particular. I just miss my Blitzy.”

Blitz rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples with his free hand.

“I’m trying to run a business here, Stolas!”

“And you do it so well.”

Blitz didn’t try to hide his offense at the condescending tone.

“Yeah, I do!” he shot back. “I break my god damn back keeping this business going. Especially on the full moon!”

Stolas didn’t seem moved by his anger, still making eyes at him.

“You certainly do.”

“Listen-!”

Before Blitz could completely lose his temper, the lights suddenly went out.

“Oh are you fucking shitting me!?”

He slammed the phone down, missed the cradle, and just swiped the whole thing off into the floor.

“Now we won’t have power until I fix this shit on Monday! Fucking great!”

“Sir,” Moxxie began, lightly knocking.

“I KNOW MOXX!! Just go home early!”

“Yes, sir.”

Blitz put his head in his hands before slamming them on the desk.

“Well! I have all the time in the goddamn world now, Stolas! What is it?!”

“Perhaps, we should find some light,” Stolas suggested gently. “Do you keep any candles?”

He sounded a little concerned, but Blitz just let his head hit the desk. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

“I don’t know. Go check the break room. Sounds like something Moxxie would keep around.”

Stolas stood and left him, returning after a while with the candles. Blitz didn’t look up but he could see the light increase as he lit each of them. Blitz sighed heavily as he sat up at last.

“I’ve had gem of a fucking week. Let’s just get this over with.”

He started removing his jacket.

“Blitzy, please. I’m not an animal. Well, I’m not always an animal.” He smirked for a moment before his face dropped into a concerned expression. “I can see you’re having a hard time. Tell me what I can do to fix it.”

Blitz let his jacket drop around him and gave him a devious grin.

“I might feel better if you go down to the power company and Medusa the shit out of Markus from customer service.”

Stolas gave him an amused look and leaned over the desk again.

“I’ll think about it, for you.”

Blitz leaned back and stretched before dragging his hands down his face with a groan.

“I don’t know. Shit’s been all over the place. Fucking up jobs, Loona’s not even talking to me, and Moxxie’s treating me like a fucking baby.”

“He cares about you.”

“Who does that?” Blitz scoffed.

Stolas reached across and took Blitz’s hand, bringing it up to his beak, kissing it gently.

“I do, Blitzy.”

“Oh, great, now you’re gonna start.”

He jerked his hand back and crossed his arms stubbornly.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Stolas sighed and stood. He moved around the desk to kneel at Blitz’s side, causing him to look down in surprise and turn his chair. Stolas placed his hands on Blitz’s knees and turned his red eyes up in adoration.

“It’s not pity, Blitz. So many people care for you. Let them. If not me, your friends.”

Blitz felt a heat crawling up his cheeks as he stared down at Stolas. The candlelight kissed that pale face of his softly, bringing out the soft curve of his beak. Blitz was stubborn, but he had never lied to himself about how attractive Stolas could be.

And he’d said his name right.

Blitz cupped his mask-like face in thick, calloused hands.

“No,” he replied, tone childish and stubborn.

Slender fingers grasped his wrists, thumbs brushing over them. The shadows shifted on Stolas’ face as he turned his head slightly into a palm, creating a more sinister appearance.

“Then let me at least relieve some of your tension.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ll do that just for me.” Blitz replied sarcastically.

“I didn’t say that,” Stolas chuckled. “But what do we have if not a mutually beneficial relationship.”

Blitz grinned back and undid his pants with a quirked eyebrow. Okay, he could admit it when Stolas turned him on. And having the royal on his knees begging for a taste of him could be a real high. Especially here in the dark with the candlelight sending flickering shadows over everything. It made things seem intimate and isolated. Like it was okay to just let go and let himself have this one even if it was what Stolas wanted, too.

#Stolitz Week #Helluva Boss #Stolitz #Stolas Goetia #Blitzo Helluva Boss #stuffididmyself #myfanfics

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border-spam · 3 years

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Leech Lord : Jak-Knife

JK belongs to / is written by / designed by @godkingsanointed

“That Bandit’s a ghostwalker, my God-King. You don’t want ‘em here, trust me. Sometimes dead clans leave corpses behind that aren’t straight in the head enough to know that’s what they are... Crawl across the plains looking for somewhere else to belong, looking for a new family clan ‘cause all that’s left of theirs are Rakk picked bones. Seen plenty over the years, and they trail bad luck behind ‘em like a disease. That one’s marked like a Hellion, those got slag-burned into the ground by Atlas back in Old Haven. Your majesties weren’t here when that happened, but we were, and I remember. Leave them to me, the scout teams always need fresh meat for replacements.

They won’t stay alive long enough to be a concern.”

- Mouthpiece

Whether death follows JK or they sprint after it in pursuit is something they’ve never really been sure of. It could be either - some great predator snapping at their heels while they grew up in a Bandit clan that wasn’t kind to the small and gentle, or a force they are drawn to effortlessly like the migratory animals that follow Pandora’s monsoon seasons.

Could be either.

Could be both.

Same outcome they figure, so why would it matter.

They'd been a kid when it happened, well, a kid to anyone not a Bandit. In that life 16 years old is more than enough to run with a raid party, adult enough to work yourself to the bone, to show you can earn your keep when your brother is "useless" and you've got to be worth 2 bellies of food or watch as one of you goes hungry. Jak-Knife and Gutpunch, one a runt squinting up from under a stolen warrior's mask crafted for someone twice their size, the other a gentle giant born into a life that no aspect of their soul suited. They'd protected him, them with their little body and dull pocketknife versus the sometimes cruelty of a clan who's survival was based around only the fittest, only the strong staying part of it.

Not evil, just living as was needed. Pandora is harsh, there is no room for softness if you want to stay alive on her rocky flats, that's just the way things are. Nature isn't cruel, it simply is.

They were 16 when the Lance came.

16 years they'd lasted in the Hellions, till the day the gates of Old Haven had been opened for the Crimson Lance's money carriers. They'd done their job, they'd cleared the town at the request of the white Siren, been promised a home for the clan, a place to belong, and in the end, their payment came in bullets sprayed from Atlas gun barrels.

By the time JK had woken up and tried to heave Gutpunch's corpse off their back from where he'd shielded them, it had been two days. Groggy and confused, they'd panicked, desperately trying to scrabble out from under his bulk as the remaining Lance stopped piling bodies to burn and ran towards the sound of gunfire outside the gates.

Vault Hunters. Worse than the lance.

They couldn't take him with them, he couldn't move now, but they couldn't leave him like this, not a brother. Not when he was all they had who'd understood when they'd try and explain why their meat was wrong, how the flesh didn't sit right, when he was who would help them tighten rags around their chest and listen as they ground their overly developed canines and growled to the stars at night when it got too heavy to bear. They couldn't leave him behind after a life together, so they took his mask. Scrabbled at the bindings and peeled the effigy from what was left of his head. They realised as it separated from flesh that it had been all that was holding the remnants of skull together... but this was his face. The meat under it was Gutpunch, but the mask... they'd wear it now. He'd still be with them.

Jak-Knife had ran from the massacre of Old Haven on shaky legs, ducking as bullets whistled through the air around them as Crimson Lance and Vault Hunters traded fire in panicked waves. No hits, not directly, but a spray of Slag from a barrel ruptured by a narrow miss had sliced across their right, thick and acrid in the air as it burned through skin and into muscle. There had been no time to feel the pain, no time to stop, JK had run till their feet bled and the weight of Pandora's inky night blanketed them in exhaustion they couldn't fight any longer.

They'd started to stumble forward once they stirred in the morning. Like Mouthpiece said, a ghostwalker. No clan, no brother, no belonging. They walked and didn't stop for a long time.

Walked to New Haven, to the walls outside the town and a woman with her own terribly scarred face masking a heart softer than others would guess. Not a home there, not really, but allowed stay. A kid is a kid, even when wearing the blood-streaked mask of a Bandit. She couldn't turn them away.

They were 18 when Hyperion came.

Ran again amidst the screams to do so, ran into the wastes of Pandora and a world that made more sense to them than the town being torn apart behind them. Missed her though, Pierce. She'd been kind. A lot of those people had been kind, and now they were dead. Hyperion, Atlas, same thing. Just monsters lead by monsters.

They'd walked to the Slabs, to a jovial King who mocked their size with a tone that both bristled their muscle and left them feeling... welcome. Not a home there either, not really, but there had been jobs to run and food to earn. They'd been allowed stay, and so they did. Stil a Hellion though, still Slag-burned and covered in their clan's flame emblems and splashes of neon across their gear.... still wearing Gutpunch's blood coated mask.

The Slab king had heaved himself into their cramped sleeping quarters one night and whispered that there was a funeral for her soon, Pierce. They could go if they wanted, he'd whispered from under that massive helm. Told them with a gentleness they'd never heard before that he understood loss, having things you loved taken away from you for no reason bar cruelty. That he remembered Old Haven and wished he didn't. That they should go. They'd be welcome there.

So JK had walked again, out of Thousand Cut's Slab fortress and to a somber funeral in the icy fields of Three horns that was filled with Crimson Raiders - a mix of Vault Hunters and ex Lance, and stood in memorial amidst people that made the blood under their skin burn, all to show the respect she'd earned to a woman who'd treated them like a human.

A merc now they figured, easier than being a wanderer and Sanctuary needed mercs. Found themselves in the bar some nights, wary eyes glaring from mismatched lenses as they sat silently at corner tables while watching the rest of the loud patrons, back against a wall and a clear exit always planned.

She'd noticed. She liked big 'n mysterious. Liked how her flirtations rolled off them and were replied to with genuine questions about her. Quiet, gentle-voiced comments about the drinks, how well she played her marks, how clever that gunbelt around her thigh was positioned for quick access if she needed to control a situation with more than just her looks.

Moxx liked this one, and a friendship slowly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been her who had put their name forward when the leaders of the Raiders had become concerned over the darkness slowly seeping across Pandora's horizon, of the bizarre war cries of fanatics leading raids on smaller Bandit camps and shanty towns...

The "Children of the Vault" was a name being passed through hushed whispers in slums and rot-dives, and Lilith had rolled "Calypso" across her tongue enough times when reading scout reports to know the taste it was leaving behind wasn't anything good. They wanted an in, and what better spy to infiltrate a Bandit cult than a Bandit. Someone who understood clan hierarchy, who could report back in words she could understand from a viewpoint she could never see.

JK had been... wary. To say the least. The Raiders weren't friends, they'd filled their ranks with ex Crimson Lance like they hadn't committed atrocities, they mowed down Pandora's natives like mad Skags who needed extermination, and Krieg...

They all knew of Krieg. Everyone had seen how he'd been really treated. JK certainly had, but they also knew Krieg had been one foot into the great hunger, that he'd been so close to the flood that he'd spoken in half Psycho-cant and half Bandit, and tore at his skin to sate the itch of the song that the mad ones screamed about. That the raiders would let him burn alive in a fury if it meant a successful mission, and they couldn't help but wonder how respected he'd really been. Some kind of mix between respect and pity they figured, mocked behind his back as "Just another Psycho", someone who got the job done even if he limped back covered in blood and bullet holes, but was whispered about as needing to be watched.

He had been called a Raider, and yet - masks like his and JKs covered the command room's wall like trophies. Murderers of their clans walked Sanctuaries halls and narrowed untrusting eyes even at Krieg's hulking silhouette as he passed. It wasn't right, and JK struggled to feel as welcome as the others insisted they were now that they had a use.

But they'd taken the job, because Moxxi said they should and Moxxi was clever, Moxxi cared about them and wanted to see them be happy, so they'd agreed. She had whispered in an accent they’d learned from long nights in her company was for real things and not her act, that this would help people, that the COV was worrying her more than she was concerned about getting intel to Lilith, and they'd nodded in agreement.

Bandits don't congregate, Bandits don't merge clans under one banner... they wanted to know what this beast clawing into Pandora's soil was capable of. They'd heard the rumours like everyone else, twin Sirens apparently. Bullshit, everyone knew Sirens were women and there were only 6. Jack had hammered that information through Bandit clans and across Pandora's E-Com network clear enough. These were obviously frauds using trickery to control those eager to believe, wouldn't be the first time a Siren cult had used Bandit clans as a personal army, and JK had felt roiling disgust at the realisation what they were agreeing to do for Lilith? Just another shade of the exact same thing.

Funny, wasn't it. Very funny.

So they'd walked out of Sanctuary and towards the hub of the birthing COV.

They'd been 20 when they had first seen a real God.

The Holy City didn't exist yet, just a pile of rickety buildings thrown up by worshippers that surrounded an old Dahl fortress bleaching slowly in Pandora's sun. They called it "The Cathedral", but it looked like the crumbling bones of some great dead thing jutting from the red sands like a cracked skull. Maybe those were the same thing, JK had thought. A cathedral, and a beast of the flood. Both seemed like something that should be worshipped to them. They liked this place.

Neon paint and rusty metal spines were everywhere among the shantytown, raucous laughter cut through the clang of metal, and the air itself was heavy with an unmistakable stink of unwashed bodies and leather. They felt it so quickly as they'd crunched through the dirt paths that split the weaving rows of scrapped together tents, making their way to the recruitment line. A fleeting tickle of a sensation that hadn't filled their belly in so long. That this was like...

home.

The twins themselves were cagey and difficult to pull usable intel about. They gave sermons from the crumbling balconies of the fortress to the swathes of screaming acolytes below, too far for JK to get a clear eye on them but dressed like Sirens at least. Swirling loops of pacifying blue along the woman, and the man... jagged lines and curved whorls of a vicious red they'd never seen on any living or dead Witch. He was off. That one was wrong, and his sister made her agreement on that clear enough in how she acted next to him. She was the star, she was in the limelight, and he was relegated to a place behind her when she spoke to her worshippers and basked in their screeched worship. Odd for a "God-King" to be left in shadows, they'd thought.

Odd indeed.

They reported back to Lilith in Sanctuary whenever the opportunity arose to leave the growing "City", cult movement, basic info on what they could see as a blossoming threat to raiders, and it was always met with sneers of disgust and pity. Monsters, she'd sighed. Just using the bandits as fodder. JK's eyes flicked to the masks decorating the trophy wall behind her.

"Whatever you say, commander".

Mouthpiece had kept his word. Fully aware of what had happened to JK's clan and uncomfortable with seeing something he believed to be a walking curse among the COV's war parties, he'd purposefully sent them on suicide runs with some of the less physically capable recruits. "Trial by fire" he saw it as, simple logic when it came to survival on Pandora. Let the weak earn their place - if they die, they die. That's the law of the land, and losing the soft only leaves the clan stronger. Except, JK' scout parties just kept coming back. It had seemed almost a fluke the first couple of times, scouts didn't last long after all, but as it repeated again, and again, Mouthpiece and higher members of the raid parties began to notice.

A combination of Hellion war training and their years of working side by side with their brother had left an understanding of why having others watch your back was more beneficial than only caring about your own neck, especially when you weren't as big as the next guy. JK was a survivor, they'd never been willing to lay down and die so the rest of the clan could be down a "weak link", and their knife-edge instincts merged with a care for the other scouts not usually seen amongst Bandits meant they were teaching the team. Unifying them as a group who responded to signal whistles, barked cant, warcries that triggered defence formations and eyes on flanks. They were leading without being called a leader, and as that first year slowly ticked by, they were being noticed.

Sharp eyes that scrutinised numbers and statistics were watching the growing ratio of successful raids to lost bodies from the recessed shadows of the looming Cathedral while Jak-Knife trained and barked orders at recruits in the garrison that sprawled in the white hot sunlight below, and eventually, the day came where the God-King knew their name.

They'd stood shoulder to shoulder with their boys as they lined facing the burning light at Mouthpiece's demand. The mask lenses had done barely anything to block out Pandora's vicious sun as he'd approached, and they'd shuddered at the warchief's hissed warning to show due respect, or die where they stood. He wasn't accepting of failure, they knew that from the hushed whispers that spread across the camp at night. He expected perfection, and word from within the now sprawling architecture of the growing Cathedral was that neither twin took insult lightly. She sucked the life out of the undeserving and he, well, he supposedly just ripped heretics clean apart.

Father Troy had been all sharp angles and gaunt bone as he'd stopped his slow pace in front of them and hunched to lean down to their eye level. They'd realised how wrong they'd been about his appearance as the heavy furs that splayed across his shoulders like a mantle blotted out the sun behind him and framed his jagged silhouette in light.

Tyreen wasn't short.

Troy was a monster.

It had been hard to pick up on his scale when they'd only seen him next to his sister, they'd just figured she was a smaller woman and him a tall man, but the reality of his size was beyond intimidating now that they could see with frightening intimacy that the scrapped together prosthetic that he held at his side so effortlessly was as long as they were tall.

A glint of gold teeth through a smile they'd thought more Skag than human snapped them out of their shock, and he'd congratulated them. Thanked the "Jak-Knife" he'd been watching so closely for their excellent work on the field, waved the disturbingly proportioned metal claws of his arm towards their team and praised their group promotion, slathered honey-thick words from a barbed tongue about how they'd be blessed by being the honour guard for a God now - a fine reward for their outstanding work... yes?

The others had gasped in stuttered praise and whimpered thanks while Jk had nodded respectfully, knowing damn well that Calypso wasn't really asking at all.

The newly titled vanguard escorted him everywhere, and that meant a shift in JK's life within the blossoming city that they could not have prepared for. They no longer slept on bare ground when not visiting Sanctuary for updates, they were brought into the twin's cathedral, were able to see its glory with their own eyes for the first time. The inside wasn't anything like the still decrepit outer walls surrounded by scaffolding that workers scurried across like ants, it was like nothing Jak-Knife had ever seen.

A bastion of worship, vast cavernous stone halls spread with clan banners in colours they'd almost forgotten, neon blazing lights framing sprawling stained glass windows depicting Saints and Clergy who's names they'd heard but never put a face to.

Ur-Aurum, scowling from under heavy brows, framed in monochrome and gold. Coins and bullets pouring from his open palms.

Ur-Machina, sharp and vibrant in reds and coppers, oil-stained hands resting gently on the slab of gilded war tech she rested daintily against.

Ur-Vendit, pristine in parallel lines and perfect angles, sneering through a swathe of shining colours as numbers and cash totals ran like ivy through the window's frame.

And something new that had been being assembled along the great hall when they first entered, a half-finished window titled "Oracle" - just the fine lines of lead and a great, staring eye all that they could make out as they followed the priest irritably urging the vanguard group to hurry as they were lead to their chambers.

For the first time they had experienced, JK not only belonged, but they were envied. Their gear was decorated, armour and weapons upgraded at the Father's blessing, and the titles that came with the role were impossible to avoid, whispered in reverence by warriors who would have spat at their feet only a few years ago.

God-King's chosen, God-King's first, God-King's hand, the nods of respect passed to them by warlords like Mouthpiece in passing filled their chest with pride under the weight of its binder, and the trips back to Sanctuary became... harder.

For all they had achieved within the now monstrous in scale COV, the Raiders saw them no differently than they had when they'd first sat alone in Moxxi's. They were still a Bandit, and nothing more. JK was side-eyed, muttered about, treated like an outsider who needed to earn their keep by passing on intel they were risking their life for, all while in the back of their mind being more than aware that they could have this place raised to the ground with a damn WORD. Lilith didn't understand what it meant to be as close to Calypso as they were, that they were beginning to earn his ear.

She wasn't aware that a fucking God cared about their opinion enough to ask for it on long technical rides or when escorting him between meetings, to her, and to the rest of the Raiders, they were still simply a lost native behind a mask that was being handed scraps of decency by people better than them - and the strain of that reality was difficult to ignore. Moxxi tried her best, always there to console and remind them she valued who they were, the beautiful mind they had shared with her in tender moments and long intimate conversations over the last few years, but the insult burned in their gut still.

They weren't just Jak-Knife. They were the God King's chosen, and they were betraying someone who valued them to share internal information on Saints and departments, cashflow and raids, with people who willingly partnered with the Crimson Lance, people who just plain did not seem to understand who they were, what they had earned through sacrifice and blood shed.

But Troy? The longer they spent around Troy the more his own mask began to slip, and the harder it came to see him as any form of enemy. The blessed Father couldn't hide his weak spells or the times illness left him barely able to stand from a bodyguard who was at his side almost every waking moment, there was no way to do so regardless of how much he clearly wished there was. JK saw everything... the spasms, the fainting, heard the whistling of weak lungs when in silence next to the damaged God, saw the black circles under his eyes that the expertly applied makeup he wore could hide at a distance. He'd been aggressive about it at first, vicious and hurtful in his reactions when they'd try and assist, but over time, as they made clear that the mockery and pity he was expecting was not going to come, he'd softened. He'd thanked Jak-Knife one night as they scraped together a fire on the salt flats to chase the bitter cold away and keep their king warm.

A God had looked at them with ice blue eyes that reminded them of a face they could no longer remember, and whispered genuine appreciation for them. How could they continue to betray him. How could they hurt him for people who didn't even count JK as human?

They saw a delicate and sickly side of one of the twin God's that felt wrong to share with the raiders, that left a bad taste in their mouth to discuss with Lilith, so they simply didn't. The rationalised that the raiders did not need to know about the self-doubt or painful loss JK saw crack through Troy's facade in private, the raiders didn't need an update on how one of the twins wasn't healthy, that he could struggle sometimes to get to his feet before an audience, or would need a discreet support from the solid weight of their muscle next to his spindly frame after some events.

Lilith didn't need to know it, and as time passed, JK found they were beginning to keep secrets. Little ones at first, justified under the intel not being valuable, but the ease of witholding useful data only increased. Their position, the growing camaraderie with the COV's grunts and militia, the respect in the eyes of worshippers who looked to the Vanguard all fed into the slow realisation that their loyalty simple did not belong to the Vault Hunters, it was to Moxxi, who loved them. It was to Troy, who every day became closer to the memory of Gutpunch they'd try and visualise on lonely nights, see his crooked smile and cool eyes flicker across a face they could no longer place.

The closer JK got with the man behind the King's mask, the harder it became to give over information to the raiders that had any real tactical value...

And that had been Troy's plan, ever since the day he'd discreetly planted a tracker on them while they'd squinted against the blinding sunlight to first look into the face of a God.

#Bl3 #Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #Leech Lord #Sbsart #My hcs #My writing

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huskeddevotee · 3 years

Text

Music tastes because this game owns my soul

Amara: Nothing but calm, peaceful indie worship for meditation, or Partali Rap for everything else. Does enjoy the occasional rock opera, but not enough to make a Playlist for it.

Ava: Emo grunge and sad lo-fi. Typical sad 13 year old girl songs, but the sadness level varies. Sometimes its "ah, 13yo blues", sometimes "Oh, yeah. This is a child who's gone through some sh*t and is clearly not coping." Everyone uses her Spotify as a mood tracker to check in on her.

Axton: Bluegrass country, old school rock, and - god bless - the most basic pop in the world. Like, retail pop. Radio pop. Pop music no one likes and only hit the charts because of grocery stores playing it on repeat. He genuinely likes it, too.

Brick: R&B and jazz. Most people assume its violent screamo, but why would he want to listen to that when he's relaxing? That's punching music, not kicking back music.

Clay: Either super catchy and suave, or a blatant cry for help. Classy Jazz and touching Southern Gothic, Jimmy Buffet. Songs about confidence, Jimmy Buffet. Ballads for smuggling and general crimery, Jimmy Buffet. Why is he listening to Jimmy Buffet? He doesn't know. He just is. Wainwright has a therapist on speeddial for the day when Clay has listened to nothing but Jimmy Buffet for three weeks.

Fl4k: Anything dark and moody, actual genre doesn't matter. Prefers quieter, slow paced songs. Songs about leaving home for the better fill their main playlist.

Gaige: Screamo metal. The most offensive screamo metal you will ever hear. Has hearing problems from this. Don't use full volume, kids.

Hammerlock: Jazz, classical, folk, orchestra - elegent stuff, as per usual. He isn't stuffy about it like some people. Varied taste, he just has some quirkiness with his preferences. Rap is fine, he just likes old rap from his youth. Will absolutely grumble about it getting worse each year .

Krieg: Doesn't like music, it freaks him out. But, he is known to listen to someone singing. Axton's humming in the garage, Maya's shower concerts, Lilith's quiet memorial songs when she thinks no one can hear her. He doesn't like music. He likes singing.

Lilith: Rock sung by female leads, female rappers, and girl power ballads. Just appeals to her. The only male singer she liked was Roland.

Lorelai: Same as Lilith, but kicked up to a level that makes you think she's part of a coven. Does like the occasional country power ballad, though; songs about community and sticking together and such.

Maya: Music you could fall asleep to. Its the calmest, most zen playlist you could ever find. It's very vocal, with emphasis on slow instruments. The music you listen to when you want to study or transcend. do not find her guilty pleasures playlist.

Mordecai: He could tell you every artist he has ever listened you, and you will have heard of none of them. It's not intentional, he just fell down a rabbit hole and moved in. His taste is very folk, indie, rural country - lots of guitars and percussions.

Moxxi: Carrie Underwood country. That genre of country thats just women killing men. Sure, she likes a sultry jazz, maybe a suggestive pop, but her heart is meant for a raspy-voiced woman with a guitar crooning about poisoning her husband.

Moze: She likes a lot of things, especially old synth-pop. Upbeat rock with old sounds the remind you of fruit for some reason? Her jams. Her favorite song is a mystery, though. Its in a different language you've never heard of, it has no identifiable instruments, the title is Track 1. Someone listened to the entirety of it and died the next day. Definitely haunted. She says it's just a national hymn from her home planet, but no one buys it.

Salvador: Back-porch country and ballads. He likes things that come from the heart. His favorite songs are ones of people singing about their home with pride. He has a soft spot for emotional climax songs from musicals, too. Detests bro country and retail pop.

Tannis: Hates music, but likes wind chimes. That's it.

Tina: Has 218 playlists for every conceivable mood. Her library of saved songs is over 10k. Has no favorite genre, but her favorite songs tend to lean towards the alternative or rap variety.

Troy: If you look at his Spotify he will cry. Barely any his playlists have a title, just keysmashing. The only one that has a title is just an eggplant emoji and it's nothing but dominatrix power balleds. His most played playlist is filled with songs about Cain and Abel. As for genre? Rap. Rock. Punk. Screamo. Everything your mother doesn't like.

Tyreen: Not an active music listener. But! Her Spotify is nothing but love ballads. Her top 50 each year are the sappiest romance songs known to man. A lot of soundtracks of musicals and movies, too. The genre does not matter, what matters is if someone's name pops into your head when you listen to it.

Wainwright: Emo country. Like, Southern Gothic if it was even more depressed and spooky. He has not evolved from his taste as a 13 year old in an unhappy family. Only started listening to happier music when he met Alistair. Would die of embarrassment if this got out.

Zane: Likes literally everything, but has a soft spot for the rock and folk that came out of Pandora during the Gold Rush times when the corps were fighting for tech and power. Those songs stuck with Pandora, and the songs are important for every clan. They're about greed, apathy of corporations, the mystery of the Eridians, the harshness of Pandora. He gets in a mood when he listens them, like a grandpa watching the news report on the war he just got back from. He tells stories when he gets like this. Sometimes they're sad, sometimes they're bitterly hopeful.

Zer0: Techno that sounds like someone vomiting out their soul. Moody, atmospheric, unsettling techno. They say they refuse to listen to anything that has color in its album art.

And it's all a lie.

Zer0 likes the pinkest bubblegum pop and the stupidest meme songs. Carmelldansen? They've listened to it for 1000 hours.

The only person to find their secret Spotify was Rhys and he was too busy admiring this strange account's taste in music to realize that every playlist title and description was a haiku, and that the account was called "atlas.n1nja.b0ps". Rhys brought it up to Zer0 like "I found my soul mate, we have the same favorites!" And Zer0 would have sh*t themselves if they could have.

#bl3 #borderlands #gangpost #tumblr add more colors on mobile challenge

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bookshelf-imagines · 4 years

Text

Birthday Wishes

Pairing/Fandom: Moxxi x Reader/Borderlands

Summary: R delivers birthday invitations for Claptrap and gets side tracked by a certain bar owner :^)

Warnings: Cursing

Notes: It’s...not that good

You sighed as you watched Claptrap sift through his pile of trash he called a home, looking for invitations to his birthday party. He swore he had placed them around there somewhere, and you couldn't help but internally groan when it hit the five minute mark. There were more important things to do, more important people to do as well. The robot let out a "Eureka!" and lifted the tattered envelopes in the air.

"I have found them! Now, remember minion, deliver them to-"

"Yeah, yeah. I've got it." You replied, your obvious annoyance seeping through your voice. You were already walking away, so you didn't really care what the steward bot was saying. All you wanted was the money he promised. Granted, he probably didn't have it, but money was money, and it isn't something anyone would say no to. You hummed as you strolled into the makeshift hospital and flagged down Dr. Zed. He was delighted to see you, having been unable to since the downfall of Jack meant for a busy world. Unfortunately, that meant busy for everyone except you. Why? No idea.

"Well...It's a nice gesture, but it's Claptrap. He's a...nice little feller, but...Tell him no." Zed said, snapping his gloves on and nodding his farewell before returning to the operating table. You turned on your heel and exited, carving a path to Marcus' store. You tried walking fast but lacked the motivation to do so, despite wanting to get this mission over with as quickly as possible. You walked in to the cozy arsenal and was greeted by the owner...But you were leaving as soon as you went in.

"Hahahahahahaha. No." Definitely expecting that. There was one last invitation. You gulped, your heart speeding up.

Moxxi.

She was just a woman. A sexy, bar running, hip-swaying, smart, badass woman.

But damn if you weren't in love with her.

You cursed yourself time and time again, knowing that it isn't healthy to fall in love with someone like her, but you couldn't stop yourself. Once you realized it, it was too late. You tried your best to avoid her in any situation because you've ended up at her bar more than one time...And it hasn't ended pretty. In fact, roughly a week ago, Hammerlock had explained to you that you disclosed your feelings for her. You've been treating her like the plague ever since, but it's only made you want her more. The scent of her perfume, the softness of gaze. No, you don't want to have sex with her. Well, of course you do, everyone does---but it's not the main point. You're in love with Moxxi. From the top of that hat she wears to the bottom of her heels, you are irrevocably in love with the woman. Love and lust are two different things, and you want to be able to show her that and not just treat her like an object. However, fate never is kind to gun-wielding badasses such as yourself.

Before you realized it, you were at the back entrance to the club. You didn't even register that you were walking, obviously too involved with your own thoughts about a certain makeup covered bartender. You swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and walked in, letting the loud music drown out your hearing. You spotted Moxxi behind the bar as usual, a slight swing in her movements. You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face and not drool at the sight. As you approached the bar, she saw you and let a smirk creep up her lips. She leaned against the bartop, hands clasped together and breasts practically popping out of the shirt that was obviously two sizes too small. You cleared your throat as best you could.

"Claptrap said to give this to you." You said, extending the letter with shaky hands. Her fingers brushed against yours, sending multiple chills throughout your body. Keep it together.

Moxxi took the letter and, without even sparing a glance, threw it in a trashcan.

"Oh sugar, you aren't really going to that thing, right?" Her tone was sultry as always, making your heart skip a beat with every word. Good Lord, this woman was going to literally kill you.

"N-no. He said he'd pay me. Vault hunter's got to make a living somehow. Can't always rely on vaults to supply us with loot." You mustered out, sounding more confident the longer you talked. By this point, Moxxi was in the same position, but you were mimicking her movements and ended up face to face with her at extreme proximity. You were surprised your cheeks weren't flaming hot yet, but you could feel it rising.

"You know, I can think of a couple ways you can make money." She hummed, glancing at your lips. Your mind traveled straight to the gutter, triggering an intense blush.

"Yea? Do any of them involve you?" Why did you ask that? Why would you do that? You're done for.

She slightly leaned forward to whisper in your ear, her smirk radiating off of her face in waves. "They are me, sugar."

That was it for you. Your brain shut down and the second she pulled away, you grabbed her neck and pulled her back in, capturing those painted lips with your own. They tasted like heaven, and God she was a good kisser. There was no tongue, no biting, just a kiss. When the two of you broke apart, Moxxi threw her facade back on.

"That wasn't very appropriate, now was it?" Moxxi asked, still sporting that stupid smirk. You wanted to wipe it off of her face in more ways than one, but kept that to yourself. Love, not lust. Love...not lust.

"Not at all. Now, you can either hand the bar over to Hammerlock to watch, or not show up. I'll be at headquarters. Everyone is away on a mission, so it's empty. I'll be waiting." You finished, cocking an eyebrow and kissing her cheek before leaving. You have zero clue as to where in the hell the words you just said came from, but you went with it. You had to get to HQ and calm down before you exploded. It was Moxxi! Of all people, Moxxi! You transformed into a hot mess when you got into the building, collapsing on the nearest couch. A couple minutes later, a click echoed throughout the empty structure and a door opened, then closed. Footsteps pattered up the stairs, and you uncovered your face, moving your arm off of your eyes. There she was. She came. She fucking came.

And you couldn't be happier.

#borderlands #moxxi #mad moxxi #moxxi x reader #my fics

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musekicker · 3 years

Text

I’m trying to also write a number of one to few sentences snippets based off a word prompt. I might add more to some of these snippets if anyone's interested in them being expanded.

A note, a good number of swears (which is natural for this fandom but still warning for it.) in the snippets.

Also possible minor spoilers for episode 5 in a character mentioned.

1. Dig- "Whine all you want but this body won't get dug up by itself." Blitz snapped.

"And I'm sure that we would have this body dug up a lot faster if you were doing any of the digging, sir." Moxxie said, breathing heavy from all the digging he had been doing.

"I'm supervising." Blitz said.

2. Taste- Blitz found himself wondering what Striker's lips would taste like. He was imagining a mixture of hay, smoke, and maybe just the barest hint of sulfur.

When they had a moment to themselves, alone in the horse stalls, Blitz found that none of sensations were what he found as he jammed his lips up against Striker's at the same time he went for his.

3. Pocket- "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to se- oh fuck, it is a gun!" Blitz cried.

4. Love- "I love you." Striker said, his voice sounding so soft for some one so rough.

"I love me too." Blitz said.

Blitz hung up before they realized what had just transpired here. Then after a few seconds had passed he looked up.

"Oh shit." Blitz said, grabbing his phone to call Striker back.

5. Distract- "Aw, Blitz... It's adorable that you think I haven't figured out that you're trying to distract me." Striker said.

#helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers

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owlsoldwritingcorner · 4 years

Text

Style

AO3 Link

Pairing: Zer0 x Reader

“Hey, wait a sec, Zer0! I gotta change my jacket for this mission!” You had stopped Zer0 for the upteenth time today. Before every single mission, you made the assassin wait for you to get changed into some new clothes. How the fuck were you even getting them anyway? They most certainly weren't anything Moxxi would wear.

Much too modest for her taste.

Finally, you were out of that changing box, geared up and ready to fuck shit up. Your usual cap atop your head, some tight short shorts with some stockings, a tube tank top that only covered your breasts, and finally that damned jacket you were so keen on wearing for this mission. Why bother wearing that jacket if you planned on showing most of your body with that tank top anyway? It reminded Zer0 of Lilith’s fashion choice and that dumb tiny jacket. They much prefer their assassin armor. Much more effective on the battlefield.

They had to admit though, your clothes in particular are rather… Tantalizing to them. Somehow more so than Moxxi and she’s practically sex personified. It was almost worth the wait time.

Almost.

“You take so much time/ When we could be killing now/ Old clothes won’t kill you.” Zer0’s angry emoticon were reflecting off your gas mask’s lens. Aw, is the assassin getting gwumpy?

“Aw, and not killing for a couple minutes won’t kill you. Anyway, I wanted to wear this new jacket I made!” You gave the unamused assassin a twirl, showing off all aspects of your new jacket. “It’s made from the last client’s clothes before, well, they exploded.” Zer0’s unamused emoticon lingered as they just stared at you. “What? I couldn’t not take that shirt. It was made of some nice ass material, soft and durable.” Zer0 tried to massage the bridge of where their nose would be (If they had a nose). You were so fucking lucky they were so fond of you. Any other person would have been ground beef the first time this stunt was pulled.

“Why do you need this?/ Armor is more effective./This is a hindrance.” You have him a muffled gasp through your mask.

“I need to look good while I shoot down some bandits and shit. And anyway, you can’t really complain.” You danced a finger on their armored chest, drawing nonsensical patterns. “I see the way you look at me while I fight.” Zer0 looked away from your masked face, their mask now projecting three slashes.

Bullseye.

“Also, like I said before, this material is soooo comfy. Feel it!” You thrust your arm in front of the assassin’s peripherals (or tried to… There was at least a two feet height difference between you two, you were practically on your tiptoes right now trying to stretch your arm to their face!). Any bystanders who didn’t know your relationship with the alien killer would have thought you had a fucking death wish. Zer0 grabbed your wrist, surprisingly gently for a cold killer like them. They slid their hand down the length of your arm, traveling it down your torso (but not before giving one of your breasts a quick squeeze) and finally down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You’re right, it is soft./ But you know what I’d prefer?” Zer0 brought their head down so that only you can hear them, their voice dropping an octave as they slowly annunciated their words.

“Your clothes on the floor.”

A shiver ran up your spine, you were sure even Zer0 felt that since they gave your ass a quick spank before walking away from your frozen form. You quickly processed what just happened before shaking your head and running to catch up to them.

“I really fucking hate you.” You were so lucky your gas mask hid your blush ridden face.

The assassin only gave you a winky face as you two headed out of Sanctuary.

#borderlands #zer0 #x reader #Zer0 x reader #reader insert #My writing

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sweetside · 3 years

Text

Mobile Muse list

Muse List

Mad Moxxie (Borderlands)

Female Feedee, Feeder, Pred and Prey.

Physical: 5′7 (170 cm) 200 lbs

Moxxie is a not a shy woman, nor one of discerning taste. She own’s a few bars, and gambling locations across the borderlands. But she is often doing more basic things. Like living with her loved one’s. She’ll only let you call her mommy if she wants to.

Nurse Joy (Pokémon)

Female Feeder & rarely Feedee.

Physical: 5′4 (165 cm) 140 lbs.

Raised as all members of the Joy family are, to become a Nurse. This particular Joy is a slightly forceful, but sweet woman. Her greatest fantasy, is to hear the wheezing of her soft lover, every morning. She won’t fatten you without your permission though, piggy~.

Dorothy Haze (Va-11 hall-a)

Female android, Feeder, Feedee, Prey, Pred.

Physical: 4′7 (143 cm) 180 lbs.

A Lilim or Android as most people who aren’t familiar with her product line call them. Lilim’s are programmed to enjoy interactions with humans. As such Dorothy works as a sex worker, fulfilling her clients wishes and fetishes at night, with a variety of mods. When she’s not doing that she is drinking at a bar with one of her favorite bartenders.

Iris (Pokemon)

Female Feedee, Prey and Predator.

Physical: 5′2 (158 cm) 400 lbs

A Hyper active girl with a hyper active mind. Well at least she used to be. Many years ago Iris rose to the position of champion of the Unova league. But under her rule, no challenger has reached her. Thus leading the ‘’Girl who knows the hearts of dragons’’ to have a free time. And not to even mention wealth. To indulge in her hedonistic desires.

Shirahoshi (One Piece)

Female Feeder and feedee?

Physical: 77 feet (2347 cm) 405 lbs

A Giantess mermaid princess. Born into (regular human sized) merfolk royalty. Due to numerous attempted kidnappings she was shut into her tower. Only being let out due to reasons when she was 16. It has been 10 years since and Shirahoshi now swims the seas happily. Though she is still quite shy when... pretty much constantly.

Samus Aran (Metroid)

Female Feedee and Pred.

Physical: 6 (183 cm) 500lbs

A Retired bounty hunter who fell into indulgence, gluttony and sloth. After years of no pirate activity in the sector, samus grew soft. She is able to carry her weight with slight effort, due to being genetically modified, to be a super soldier. She doesn’t really know how to deal with her weight.

(Samus Picture by Lewdsona)

Nela (Original Character) (Face claim: Judgement from Helltaker)

Female Feeder/ Feedee and Pred.

Physical: Whatever the hell she wants (Usually 5ft)

A Demoness who rules the underworld, after 4000 years of boring old eternal suffering and pain, she got bored. And now travels the world looking for someone to entertain her, or sign away their soul for a favour. Whatever she can get her hands on.

Lumi (Original Character) (Face claim: Komi-san from Komi-san can’t communicate and Sawako Kuronuma from From Me to You

Female Feeder / Feedee and Pred / Prey.

Physical: Whatever she feels like (Usually 8 ft tall, without legs)

A Reserved ghost girl who speaks slowly and with few words. She likes to spook other’s but has no ill will towards anyone. She can only interact with objects if a living person is holding them. Or if the object or food has some alcohol in it. Though she can levitate objects she doesn’t have a great control over them.

Fi (Legend of Zelda)

Female Feedee and Feeder

Physical: (Usually floating) 5´6 feet (168 cm) (150 lbs)

A spirit who dwells within the master sword. Fi was made to accompany and aid the hero of light, in his battle against darkness. However during that time her body has slowly decayed. Which is why she possesses no arms, currently.

Kyoko Kirigiri (Danganronpa, Trigger Happy Havoc)

Female Feedee, Feeder and Pred.

Physical: 5'6 feet (167cm) 450lbs

The Ultimate Detective, Stoic and Hefty. Kyoko Kirigiri spends her days studying and solving the cases handed to her. Her physique has largely due to the pressure of her family’s history, which is a well kept secret. This means she cannot seek others for emotional support, and instead snacks heavily.

Maya Fey (Ace Attorney)

Female Feedee

Physical: 5'2 feet (158 cm) 130 lbs

The Master of spirit channeling, and head of the Fey clan. Maya has an insatiable love of burgers. And has worked in court multiple times.

Miku Hatsune (Vocaloid)

Female Feedee and Feeder.

Physical: 5'5 Feet (165 cm) 190 lbs

An artificial idol made as a mascot for a voice bank. Eventually she was made into an artificial intelligence, and grafted a human like android body.

(Art By CuprumRus)

Ryuko Matoi (Kill la Kill)

Female Feedee, Feeder, and Pred.

Physical: 6 Feet (182.5 cm) 150 lbs

A tomboy who has lived a rough life. Ryuko still cares about those around her, if they don’t piss her off. After she played an instrumental part, in defeating an invading alien army. Ryuko thought about what she wanted to do with her life. And with her sister’s help. She eventually enrolled in a technical school, to earn herself a mechanics degree.

Frida Mofete (Wakfu)

Female Feedee, Feeder, and Pred.

Physical: 7,1 Feet (182.5 cm) 180 lbs

One of the highest ranking members of an undersea empires army. Mofete is honour bound and ruthless. She has often been referred to as a shark... which might not be too far off.

N (Pokemon) (Full name Natural Harmonia Gropius (Yes really))

Male Feedee and Feeder.

Physical: 5'11" Feet (180 cm) 140 lbs

A wanderer and generally a strange man. N has the special ability to understand pokemon. The source of this power is unknown, as is his parentage. After certain series events a few year ago, led him away from his adoptive father. Now N walks the earth.

Brys (Original Character) (Face claim is Marcille)

Female Feedee, Feeder, Prey and Pred.

Physical: 6,4" Feet ( 193 cm) 215 lbs.

An Elf born to a family of thieves. Brys was unfortunately not as dexterous as the rest of her family, leading her to spend time at the library instead of training. She’s not really good at anything, other than remembering a lot of useless trivia. Staying inside and frequent snacking, also made the elf girl stockier than her siblings.

#Muselist #Muse list #Mobile muse list.

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papa-rhys · 4 years

Text

Shared Empires (Rhys X Reader)

Note: Wow it’s literally been like over a year and a half since I wrote/posted fanfic, how do I even format this shit? I legit can’t remember so here goes

Warnings: none

Word count: 2131

Category: fluff

It’s been seven years since the fiasco with Handsome Jack and Hyperion, but you still can’t shake that blasted gaudy yellow colour from your mind’s eye whenever you see Rhys.

It’s hardly fair to keep associating him with the limp-dicked prick that awakened the Warrior - Rhys is the opposite of Jack in every way, except for the zeros in his bank account and the need to have an office with ceilings that are far too high (how are you supposed to kill spiders when they’re that high up?) Rhys is bumbly and friendly and harmless enough. And he’s better-looking, too. But that yellow colour is seared into your retinas for an eternity and there’s a tiny part of your unreasonable lizard brain that feels the need to point out Rhys’ involvement in what Hyperion did every time you come a little too close to enjoying yourself in his presence.

Still, he’s paying your wages as of right now and a deal is a deal; help him win this war against Maliwan and he’ll make sure you never struggle for a meal again. And if there’s anything at all that you’re good at, it’s killing corporations dead in the water.

“How you diddling, Mr Hyperion?” you ask, striding into Rhys office and feeling mighty proud of the frown you pull from him. This kind of tingle could only come from irking Rhys, you think. Or from finding the juicy photos Moxxi keeps stashed on her echo device.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” Rhys says, handing you a gun as you cross the floor of his office and reach him where he stands.

“You did,” you chirp, cheerfully, “I just didn’t listen. What’s this for?”

Rhys straightens his back, puffs his chest out a little; all the hallmarks of a man who’s ever-so-proud of himself. He stands with his hands on his hips and his chin held high and you’re itching to throw out another teasing insult, just to bring him down a peg. It’s not fair to tease him so often and you know it, but lord is it fun to see him blush. And you’re, like, ninety percent certain he enjoys it, too.

“That is the finest Atlas weapon on the market,” he informs you. “It’s a reward… for killing that nutjob with the miniguns... You’re welcome.”

You look the gun over and shrug with one shoulder, then you stash it in your backpack and shrug the bag off, lobbing it onto one of the too-big sofas in the lavish seating area of the office. There’s no way in any reality that Rhys reads enough books to justify the size of those bookshelves, but you suppose rich people have to spend their money on something.

“What’s next on the to-do list, then, boss?” you ask, hopping up and sitting on the back of the sofa, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Okay, I could really get used to you calling me boss,” Rhys says. “It’s... actually kind of a turn on, so let’s not talk about that anymore. Nothing is the answer to your question.” You pull your head back against the barrage of words that just flitted your way, but there’s no time to process them. Rhys is talking again. It seems he does that often. “There’s nothing on the to-do list,” he continues. “For once, we have a break in the chaos. Can’t tell you the last time that happened, I’m actually kinda miffed about it. I’m very accustomed to fearing for my life. But we’re off the clock for a while, so relish in the quiet for a while. You earned it!”

You let yourself slip backwards onto the sofa, laying upside down and stretching your arms out each side of you. He’s not the only one who’s used to living a fast-paced life. Quiet is the exact opposite of your job description. Shooting, murdering, setting things on fire - all things that you’re far more suited to.

“Whatever will I do with all of this free time?” you ask, gazing up at the ceiling and watching a spider making the trek from one side to the other. Maybe Rhys has a step ladder he uses to kill them?

Rhys meddles with something out of view and music begins playing on a record player at the edge of the room - the soft, sweet kind that couples dance to; not the tedious wub-wubs that claptrap tortures you all with. Rhys comes back into view again when he leans over the back of the sofa, resting on his elbows. “We could try some dancing?” He says the words like he’s asking a question, wincing slightly as he tests the waters.

This is one of those moments that lizard brain ruins; reminding you of Rhys’ past and what it meant to you seven years ago. The fighting and the taunting and the constant cat and mouse. The people you lost, the ones you couldn’t save. Jack’s barrage of insults and moonshots; spat at you in equal measure. Rhys could have pushed the button on any one of those moonshots, your lizard brain suggests. He was complicit.

But that was then, wasn’t it? And this is now. He learned lessons from Jack. He’s different. And there’s no point in fighting for the future if you still spend all of your time in the past. It’s okay to enjoy a little taste of what you’re fighting for.

A smile spreads slowly across your lips and you cock an eyebrow. “You? Dancing? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“You’ve never seen my dancing,” he says accusingly, though there’s an upwards slant to one side of his mouth. “I have moves like no one else.”

“No doubt about that,” you tease, letting him help you up off the sofa.

The music tinkles and hums in the background as the two of you head for the centre of the office, surrounded by nothing but empty space. You shake out your hands and feet, warming up like you’re gearing for battle, and Rhys shakes his head with a smile.

“You really don’t know how to be graceful, do you?” he asks.

“Don’t get paid to be graceful, Rhysie boy,” you reply, rolling your neck until it cracks softly. “I get paid to kill stuff.”

“Well, let’s hang fire on that for now, shall we?” Rhys holds out his hands and you take them, letting him guide you. He’s better at dancing than you thought he’d be, but only slightly. Better - [quotation marks] - meaning he hasn’t yet tripped over his feet. But the night is still young, so you’ll not rule that out just yet.

He spins you and dips you and you both mutter a wealth of light-hearted insults between the pair of you. His bright smile could almost trick you into thinking he’s good at this. That he’s not a bumbling idiot with a too-big office and two left feet. A part of him is actually quite suave... in his own way.

“Am I impressing you?” he asks.

“Give me a minute and I’ll decide,” you smile as he spins you around on the spot.

“Oh, come on, I’m impressing you. Admit it, I’m great at this.”

He pulls a laugh from you, and against your better judgement, you allow it. There’s no way he’ll ever let you forget it if you compliment him on his dancing skills, so you opt for something with a little more self-preservation. A safe middle ground.

“You’re making a good effort,” you offer.

“Pfft,” comes the reply. He twirls you outwards and pulls you back in again.

“Okay then, hotshot,” you say, landing against his chest with a soft oof, the breath catching in your chest. “You’re a lot better than I expected you’d be. How’s that?”

He grins widely, the smile reaching his eyes. One of them is blue, the other a hazel colour that looks almost as electronically enhanced as the other. Do eyes naturally come in colours that bright? There’s a moment that seems to stretch for an extraordinarily long length of time, where you find yourself questioning the bizarre and totally irrational urge to do something weird, like kissing him or something. What madness that would be, right? Crazy.

You’ve both slowed down, now, the dancing mostly forgotten. All that’s left is a gentle sway as he speaks. “I wanna ask you something,” he says. “But I’m a little bit terrified of you.”

“A little bit terrified?” you echo. “No need to be scared of me unless you’re thinking about cutting my wages.”

He gives a nervous laugh that fades off as quickly as it’d had appeared. “Your wages are safe with me,” he says. “But that’s kind of along the lines of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on…”

Rhys spins you around to face the window behind his desk, the entire city visible beyond it in all its glowing glory. The neon lights paint a million different colours on the floor of the office and the sky is speckled with explosions that almost look pretty if you imagine that they’re not a product of war. The whole office is flooded by the view, buildings visible through every window.

“I wanna share this with you,” Rhys says. “All of it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him, the light flooding your eyes, overloading you with input.

“I don’t want all this to myself,” he explains. “It’s too much. Kingdoms are meant to be shared, right? Well, I wanna share this one with you. If you’d want that, obviously.”

“You mean, like, business partners?”

He laughs, nervous again. “If business partners are in love with each other, then yeah, I guess.”

You turn to face him and look up at him with your eyebrows raised. Now it’s your turn to blush; not an easy task for someone to accomplish. Touche, Mr Hyperion.

“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” he asks, watching you as you look up at him, slightly dumbfounded. Then he seems to cave in on himself a little, shoulders slumping. “I know you’re only here because I’m paying you to be here and I know you’re waaaaay too cool to ever feel that way about an idiot like me, but I figured I’d give it a try anyway, you know? And see if maybe you’d - “

You push up onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips, cursing him for being lanky enough to make you put effort into kissing him. If he were any taller, you’d need a harness and those stabby things that rock climbers jab into cliff faces.

He holds onto your waist as you kiss and for all his bumbling and lack of self-assurance, he soon takes to it, cupping your jaw with one hand and leaning down to meet you halfway.

Your own hands take hold of the collar of his vest, gripping fabric on either side and using it to pull him towards you. With shuffling steps, the two of you are edging towards the desk as one, all stumbling and heavy breathing, carefully making your way up the shallow steps, until you hit the edge of the desk.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate way to act with your employees,” you breathe.

“Then you’re fired,” Rhys says. “There; now you’re not an employee.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse thrumming in your ears to match the beat. Wobbly legs and and a woozy light-headedness tell you that your body is pumping adrenaline through you at record pace. It’s different than the feeling you get on the battlefield; you feel so much more out of your depth here. Out there, you have a rhythm - motions to go through. Routine. But here, you’re just going with the flow, not quite knowing what you’re doing. A new partner means a new rhythm. A new pattern to be learned. What makes Rhys tick? What does he like and dislike? What does he -

“Oh!”

The two of you break apart at the sound of the voice coming from the doorway. Surprise in both of your faces matches the surprise in Lorelei’s voice. She watches you with her arms folded across her chest and her hip jutted out to one side as you and Rhys gather yourselves up.

“If I had a dollar for every time I’d walked in on you in a compromising position, I’d be able to buy you out,” she tells Rhys. He smiles uncomfortably and fixes his tie. “But this takes the bloody cake,” she adds.

“We were celebrating,” you offer.

Lorelei hums. “I’ll bet,” she says, looking amused. “But you were celebrating prematurely. Maliwan just showed up at the front door and they’re not bothering to ring the doorbell. Need you outside, Vault Hunter.”

Rhys sighs heavy and turns to you, the last traces of his pant visible in the way his chest moves with each breath. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Yeah,” you agree, sighing. You smooth out your hair and make your way over to the seating area to collect your backpack, crossing the room on shaky legs. Hauling your bag onto your shoulders, you pick out your favourite gun and check that it’s loaded. “Alright,” you muse, nodding to Rhys and then to Lorelei, “back to work, then.”

#I've been fantasising about this scenario for days #rhys strongfork #borderlands 3 #borderlands fanfiction #rhys the company man #tftbl #tales from the borderlands #my writing #writing: rhys strongfork

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susspirria · 4 years

Text

Title: Houston We Have A Throblem!

Pairing: Rhys/Handsome Jack (Rhack)

Summary: In which a very stressed out Jack has some personal time with his overworked intern, Rhys.

Tags: Slut Rhys,Trans Rhys,Cunnilingus,Rough Sex,Dom/sub Undertones,,Plot What Plot/Porn Without PlotThirsty Rhys, Submissive Rhys,Blow Jobs,Multiple Orgasms,Fingering

Read on Ao3 Here or below the cut!

Rhys could tell that Jack was in a bad mood by the way that he snapped, “Get over here, cupcake. I need you.” over the Echo-Net. He knew what Jack wanted. It was what he always wanted from Rhys, besides bringing him coffee and pretzels that he swore up and down that he hated – despite the fact that he went through bag after bag of them.

What Jack wanted was for Rhys to meet him up in the room that he had rented in the back of Moxxi’s bar, press him up against a wall or bend him over a table and fuck him until he was barely conscious, until he was trembling and could hardly remember his own name. He was a little scared of what Jack might do to him, he was always a little scared, but even still, Rhys was excited about it. He could feel a thrilling shiver running down his spine at the idea

He practically ran all the way across Concordia to meet up with him. By the time that he was at Jack’s door, he was out of breath and his hair was already a bit of a mess. When Jack laid eyes on him, his gaze darkened and a perverse sort of grin spread across his face. “Woooow, look at you, Rhysie baby! You’re already all shaken up for me.” He purred, before leading him inside of the dingy hotel room. The door slammed shut and the two of them were finally alone. Almost immediately, Rhys felt the indescribable need to drop down on his knees, pull out Jack’s cock from their confines and choke on it for his own enjoyment. It was a miracle that he managed to quell that urge, even for just a few seconds.

“Had to run all the way over here.” Rhys defended himself somewhat weakly. Concordia wasn’t a large city. It was packed incredibly dense with a lot of branching paths and narrow alleyways. It took a lot longer than you might think, to get all the way from Janey’s shop to Moxxi’s. Jack snorted at that, “That’s just cause you were just so excited.” He mocked back, “You could have taken your sweet fucking time to come and meet me, but no.” Then he smiled in a cruel sort of way that made Rhys rub his thighs together in want and anticipation. “Pumpkin, you’re so desperate that it’s just pathetic! Kind of cute though.” He admitted before ushering him forward with a wave of his hand.

Rhys didn’t bother to correct him because he was right, he was desperate and excited, and a little bit pathetic. He could admit that to himself. He walked forward just a couple of steps and as soon as he was within reaching distance, Jack pulled Rhys flush towards him, his back to Jack’s chest. Rhys’ knees buckled, it was good that he could hang onto the older man. Otherwise he might have melted into a heap of his own limbs on the floor. Then he would really be pathetic, maybe he would seem too pathetic for Jack to want to fuck him anymore.

The feeling of Jacks’ lips trailing over his neck, down his collarbone – his kisses were all a combination of tongues and teeth that drove Rhys crazy. When Jack started nipping at his ear, he let out a soft, whining moan. “Do you know what I’m gonna do to you, Rhysie?” Jack murmured in a low voice, the soft sound of his words practically kissing at Rhys’ ears. “Hmm?” Rhys shook his head coyly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “No?” Jack asked, not expecting any answer from him, as his dipped below the fabric of his top and his hands traveled ever so slowly down the expanse of Rhys’ chest then down the trail of his flat stomach. “You don’t know?”

Rhys shook his head, still playing coy. He liked winding Jack up. Jack chuckled quietly and his hand dipped beneath his trousers and cupped Rhys’ cunt with a strange sort of tenderness to his touch. The pad of his thumb brushed over Rhys’ clit and he let out a soft pleasured sigh, “If you can’t figure it out, that’s fine, baby. Just fine…” Jack’s fingers dipped in between his folds, while his thumb kept insistently stroking his clit until he was wet and his cunt was throbbing in arousal, his briefs sticking to his thighs. One of Jack’s fingers dipped inside of him and fucked into him. Jack had big hands that never failed to make him come undone in no time at all. “I’ll tell you.” Rhys let out a moan and threw his head back. Jack pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “I’m gonna tear you apart, kitten.” He added, his tone dark and full of warning though they both knew that what he said wasn’t a warning. It was a promise.

His fingers kept moving in and out of his cunt, with a sort of rhythm that walked the line between rough and gentle very well. It didn’t take Rhys long to come, with a soft cry of Jack’s name. He leaned against Jack for support as his muscles became tight and overwhelmed from the feeling. Jack’s motions slowed to a stop within a few moments. He pulled his fingers out of Rhys and smiled at him. The younger man looked wobbly and out of it already. Jack loved how easily and how willingly he always came apart under him. Then he took his hands off Rhys’ body entirely, without any warning whatsoever. Without Jack holding him up, Rhys was barely able to stand on his own.

His legs were trembling from post-orgasmic exhaustion and he was a little dizzy. He nearly fell on the ground, it was lucky that he didn’t – that would have ruined their whole night. He looked at Jack with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, as if he was asking, “What the fuck is your problem?” without saying a word out loud, communicating with just his eyes and the firm line of his mouth. Jack’s gaze was dark and dangerous, which wasn’t a shock. Jack had always been dangerous, ever since Rhys first met him – he was egotistical, morally compromised and nearly always convinced that he was in the right no matter what he did. It was a dangerous cocktail – but it was in a decidedly different way than he had seen him before. “Now take your clothes off. I want to see you. All. Of. You.” He ordered and Rhys was quick to obey him.

He had his eyes closes as he took his clothes off – less out of embarrassment or modesty so much as to calm his nerves. By the time that he was stripped entirely naked, Jack had stripped himself down bare as well. Jack was nearly as tall as Rhys was, but he was so much broader. His skin was tanned and there was strength in his arms that could manipulate his body with ease. Jack cupped Rhys’ face in his hands and kissed the younger man. It was a deceptively gentle kiss, their mouths moved slowly and sweetly like they were newlyweds, a couple in their honeymooning phase instead of…well, whatever they were. Boss and underling with benefits?

They pulled away from the kiss after a few moments and Jack pushed him down onto his knees in front of him. He didn’t say a word or give out any orders, because he didn’t need to and Jack was happy to let him do what he liked for now. Rhys took Jack’s cock in his hand and stroked his length slowly until he was hard and heavy in his hand. He let his mouth hang open in anticipation and his tongue darted out to taste him, swirling over his the head of his cock a couple of times before sliding up and down the length of its thick shaft.

Jack liked that and he showed it by running his fingers through Rhys’ usually well coiffed hair, mussing it up even more than it already was from the effort that running over to meet him had taken. Rhys lay his tongue flat against his lower lip as he slid Jack’s cock into his mouth and wrapped his lips around it. Rhys did his best to relax and take more of Jack’s cock further down his throat, with the aid of Jack pushing him down, using just a little force with his touch. It encouraged him to try harder. Be better. His eyes closed and he let himself go through the motions as he pushed his head down far enough so that his lips were pressed to the base of Jack’s cock.Then he pulled back before diving forward again, pressing kisses up and down the shaft of it. His lips wrapped around the head again and he started bobbing his head up and down while Jack idly toyed with a few locks of his hair.

Then, very suddenly, Jack’s fingers twisted in his hair and tugged Rhys off of his cock. “That’s enough, kitten.” He hummed in a tone that nearly came off as pleasant and adoring. Rhys looked at Jack, face flushed and lips parted slightly, with a desperate expression on his face – his pupils blown wide. He felt a little like he had been drugged. “Up.” Jack ordered and he pulled himself to his feet. Jack half walked half dragged Rhys over to the bed that sat in the corner of the room. Jack sat himself down on the side of it before ushering Rhys forward. The younger man sat himself down in his lap, ready to drop down onto Jack’s cock and fuck himself onto him. Jack stopped him from doing that and he practically whined about how unfair it was.

Jack’s hand braced around the back of his neck, applying just a little bit of pressure to his hold. Rhys squirmed a bit from the feeling of it and cocked his head to the side. “Don’t be so impatient, I’ll fuck you just like you deserve. I promise.” He said and Rhys practically rolled his eyes at Jack. He kissed him briefly, several times, before he spoke again. “I just want to taste you a little first, pumpkin.” Then Jack squeezed his hips, hard enough to leave little crescent marks and finger shaped bruises all over them. He moved Rhys so that he was laying on his back with his legs spread wide. Jack was on him in seconds, kissing a line down his chest, fingertips briefly scraping over the faded horizontal scars that lay right under his chest as he made his way down his torso until he was facing Rhys’ cunt.

He nudged Rhys’ folds apart with his fingers and smiled at how slick and open he already was, even if he had already made Rhys cum once. He moved closer and let his tongue slide over the younger mans’ clit, eliciting a soft gasp out of Rhys. He smiled briefly, before he went to town on Rhys. The movements of his lips, mouth and very occasionally his teeth were eager and attentive as he ate him out, intent on making him cum again as soon as possible.

It didn’t take long until Rhys was a trembling mess. He was right on the verge of his second orgasm, when Jack’s movements with his lips and tongue slowed to a stop. He whined unintelligibly and tried to rut his hips against Jack’s face. He didn’t know why he had stopped, per say, but he had a good idea what he wanted from him. Rhys let out a flustered whine before he started begging shamelessly. “Please, Jack, wanna cum. D-daddy make me cum.” He pleaded and begged in a voice that was quiet and a little breathless from all the arousal that was building up in the pit of his stomach. “Please lemme cum, wanna cum so bad…” Each word came out even more broken and desperate than the last. He was nearly in tears.

He could practically feel Jack smile against his skin,“You’re so fucking cute when you beg.” He purred in a complimentary fashion before diving forward, teasing his clit with his fingers and earnestly mouthing at his cunt. It didn’t take more than a few moments for Rhys to come hard with a broken cry, he was already so close to the edge.

He already felt overwhelmed, There was a feeling that was not unlike a buzzing in between his thighs. It was good, even though it hurt just a little bit. He shut his thighs tight for a moment, without thinking about it, before Jack spread them wide again and moved in between them. “My turn now, Rhysie.” Jack murmured in his ear before he guided his cock towards the younger mans’ cunt and slowly fucked inside of him. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” He groaned as he bottomed out inside of Rhys, “You’re fucking gushing.” He practically cooed, pressing butterfly kisses across the slope of his jaw.

“Sh-shut up.” Rhys mumbled back, face flushed with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. He put his hands up to his cheeks and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling modest. Jack responded by lifting Rhys’ hips and fucking him even harder, eliciting soft moans and cries out of him with every thrust. Rhys felt trapped beneath him in the best way possible, Jack was caging him in his arms and taking everything that he wanted from him and Rhys fucking loved it. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s broad frame, his fingers digging into the older mans’ arms as he held on tight to him.

Jack’s hands slid up and down over Rhys’ long legs as he fucked into Rhys like he was a rag doll. He loved the younger mans’ legs, love how long and lithe they were, loved the little freckles that dotted them all over. On impulse, he lifted one of them and pressed a kiss to his calve. Then he grabbed Rhys’ legs and hooked them over his shoulder, fucking into him as deep as was possible. His thrusts were rough and nearly punishing, practically forcing Rhys to move in time with him like they were symbiotic with one another.

Without pulling out of him, Jack pulled them up so that Rhys was sitting in his lap, straddling his hips. He could hear Rhys let out a sigh of relief before he started moving his own hips wildly, riding him with a feral sort of need. Jack’s hands wandered Rhys’ body, idly tracing the outline of his tattoos as the two of them moved together. Jack kissed him harshly as he came, his motions slowly moved to a halt. After a few moments of stillness, Jack pulled out of him. He sat the two of them up, his chest to Rhys’ back with his arm around the younger mans’ waist. Rhys felt like a rag doll, his limbs felt both weak and heavy at the same time. His eyes fluttered closed and he felt himself drifting off, post-orgasmic exhaustion leaking into his bones. Neither of them spoke – it was nice. Quiet.

Then the door opened and Rhys was jarred out of his relaxed state of mind. He scrambled to cover himself up. It wouldn’t be the first time that they were caught in the act. Jack didn’t seem to be bothered by the intruder and Rhys risked a look at them. He recognized who it was almost immediately. Nisha The Lawbringer. She had been running around all over Elpis for weeks, along with a few others, so that they could save the lives of all of them. Somehow, being caught by someone who was known to be both dangerous and heroic, made this regularly embarrassing situation even more embarrassing. Rhys was practically frozen with shame, embarrassment and anxiety. Jack didn’t mirror his sentiment, not in the least. Jack grinned and waved her forward with glee, “Hey, Nish!” He exclaimed in greeting. “What are you doing here?” Rhys had never witnessed Jack being so familiar and friendly with…anyone, the entire time that he had known him. He had a lot of questions, but he decided it was smart to keep his mouth shut about them for now.

“Hey, handsome.” Nisha greeted in kind before adjusting the cowboy hat atop her head. “Thought you might be lonely, but it looks like you got some good company.” Her tone isn’t jealous or angry, which is a good thing. Rhys didn’t entirely know what her relationship was to Jack, but he guessed that they weren’t exclusive, judging by her reaction to him. That was good. The last thing that he wanted was to end up on the wrong side of a six shooter because he jumped on the wrong dick.

Jack smiled like a kid on Mercenary Day morning, all bright and nearly child like in his giddiness,“Aw, you wanted to see me?” His tone wavered between genuine glee and mocking condescension, like he couldn’t keep up with how he truly felt about her. “That’s real cute.” He teased.

Nisha rolled her eyes, “I was bored. Not cute.” She smiled thinly, then her attention turned towards Rhys. “That your boy toy?” She asked, cocking her head just ever so slightly to the side. Rhys immediately felt intimidated by her and it felt completely natural to be intimidated by her. “Now he’s cute.” She commented, not bothering to disguise her interest in his body and his pretty face. Jack’s hands traveled up his thigh slowly, before stopping at his ass and squeezing it without any shame or thought of propriety. “Hell yeah he is!” He agreed with a smug sort of pride at having someone as pretty and needy as Rhys practically at his beck and call constantly. “We were just thinking of going a second round,” He added and Rhys’ face scrunched up in confusion. He didn’t say anything though. It wasn't like he had a problem with going another round. “Ya wanna join in?” He suggested.

Nisha didn’t skip a beat, “Sure.” She and Rhys couldn’t help but flush at the sight of the horse-hair whip held tight in her hand. “Sounds like a lot of fun.” She added as she walked over with a slow and deliberate stride. Rhys felt Jack stroking along his thigh, a mixture of soothing him and keeping him in place. “He a screamer? He looks like one.” She added with a leering glance over his body that left Rhys feeling exposed, raw and open under scrutiny. All of the attention he was receiving was overwhelming and made him feel nervous in all of the ways that he loved.

Jack laughed, slapping Rhys’ ass while he cackled like a maniac. Rhys let out a pathetic squeak from the impact. “Why don’t you come over here and find out, baby?” He offered, wrapping one of his hands around the back of Rhys’ neck. “Rhysie here is up for anything.” He added with confidence. Rhys was left trapped between two impossibly hot, incredibly dangerous psychopaths. He practically melted into a puddle when he felt Nisha’s whip trailing up the inside of his trembling thigh and all of his reservations were almost entirely forgotten. “Aren’t you kitten?” Jack murmured in his ear. Rhys stifled a moan and nodded in agreement. It was going to be a long, long, looooong night.

#my fics #rhack #rhack fic #rhys the company man #handsome jack

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