#but for the sake of the insert too. that's fun

[kingtomura]

Arcade

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3

You meet him on a Friday.

The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up. 

Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears. 

The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched. 

You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it. 

The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.

You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.

“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Irritating. 

You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”

He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you. 

This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes. 

To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud. 

The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”

You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”

He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it. 

“No thanks.” 

This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course. 

But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one. 

You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage. 

You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again. 

He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies. 

The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. 

You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”

He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun. 

“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.

Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.

You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon. 

It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment. 

He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun. 

Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral. 

It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies. 

Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot. 

The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t. 

You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.

Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him. 

“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.

It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen. 

You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.

“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”

He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears. 

“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again. 

“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round. 

“Sure.”

And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.

—---------------------

The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.

The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions. 

“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close. 

Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.

The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.

You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain. 

“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.

“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.

Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”

“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”

“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.

“Fine, I'll try it.”

Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune. 

“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.” 

Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely. 

It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both. 

“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face. 

You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.” 

“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.

“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.” 

“I could beat you at other games.”

This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” 

He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.” 

You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.” 

The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”

You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.” 

He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.

Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience. 

You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last. 

The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not. 

“Oh, come on!” You shout.

“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win. 

Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line. 

Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again. 

He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”

“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.

“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.” 

“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”

Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.” 

The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that. 

“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place. 

It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up. 

“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment. 

Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”

His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.

“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm. 

Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks. 

You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation. 

But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?

“Do you want to go another round?”

“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”

You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute. 

It's settled. You hate this man. 

His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.

“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head, 

“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now. 

“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?” 

You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.

“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you. 

“I know why.” 

You brace yourself for mortification. 

“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.” 

He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you. 

He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes. 

God, maybe he’s an idiot. 

You want to kiss him. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”

There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice. 

“Sure.”

The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match. 

“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up. 

You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.  

You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.

“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.

“Um, home? It’s getting late.”

“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”

You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.

So you do.

And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.

“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.

“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.” 

Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”

You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up. 

The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.

“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”

“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.

You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”

The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.

Or kiss him.

Whichever came first. 

Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone. 

That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed. 

Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out. 

“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room. 

You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely. 

“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.

“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips. 

It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him. 

He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp  when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties. 

It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there. 

Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today. 

He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch. 

But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out. 

“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure. 

“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver. 

Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”

Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt. 

“Get this off.” 

You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do. 

No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices. 

There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine. 

It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made. 

Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer. 

He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more. 

You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.

Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours. 

Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze. 

“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious. 

You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”

Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”

The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other. 

“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?” 

You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words. 

There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?” 

His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.” 

Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake. 

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.

Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.

Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”

You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”

Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties. 

“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”

And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close. 

It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there. 

Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild. 

You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm. 

Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release. 

“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”

“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side. 

You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them. 

You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you. 

It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation. 

He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation. 

“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.

“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”

And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket. 

You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..? 

“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head. 

His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.” 

And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out. 

He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation. 

“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip. 

Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves. 

The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure. 

It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again. 

You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax. 

“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh— 

You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you. 

It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.” 

You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you. 

You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance. 

The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt. 

The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch. 

Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined. 

“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.” 

Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.

You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.

“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside. 

“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again. 

Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.” 

You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”

Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.” 

And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words. 

You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder. 

The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today. 

“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”

You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”

The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family. 

And they were loving! Loving and observant.

You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet. 

Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out. 

It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent. 

You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.

“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”

And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”

Oh, god. They knew.

“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”

Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle. 

“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”

Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.” 

The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you. 

“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”

You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you. 

It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.

—-------------------------

And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you. 

The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy. 

It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child. 

Even though you’re an adult. 

Even though you can make your own decisions about your life. 

It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off. 

You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture. 

“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”

“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way. 

There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand. 

“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”

Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”

She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.” 

It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex. 

They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.

“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”

Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?” 

They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it. 

To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall. 

The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor. 

How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks. 

Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning. 

It’s been a week. 

A long, boring, drawn-out week. 

You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried. 

It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long. 

You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely. 

Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around. 

You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone. 

So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.

You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.

Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence. 

It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you. 

It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together. 

There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.

You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind. 

But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you. 

Tomura. 

He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization. 

“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears. 

You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.

“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by. 

You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”

“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”

The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue. 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”

This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you. 

“Then don’t.”

“What?” 

“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”

Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?” 

There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours. 

It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut

[arieslost]

act up | op81

summary: you and oscar have been skirting around each other for ages. it ends tonight.

word count: 949

warnings: drinking (we’re back in the club!), suggestive comments/moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

oscar couldn’t stop staring at you, and he had no one to blame but himself.

well, himself and the empty shot glass in his hand. he’d lost count of how many times he’d tipped the contents of the glass down his throat, and it’s like that saying— a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. or however it goes. if oscar were to insert himself in that equation now, he’d be the drunk guy.

the drunk guy who wanted to do nothing but stare at the girl sitting on his lap: you. he couldn’t remember how you got there for the life of him, but hell, he wouldn’t be caught dead complaining about it. it felt good to let his inhibitions go and his anxiety with them, even if all he was doing was sitting there with his arm around your waist, hand resting on your thigh.

you’re waving down the bartender to pour the two of you another round of shots from where you both sit in a booth, and he uses the liquid courage to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“are you trying to make me act up tonight?” he murmurs in your ear.

you press your lips together, tilting your head towards him so you’re practically cheek to cheek. “maybe. got a problem with that?”

“nope.”

he’s surprised at himself for his lack of filter and complete honesty with you; normally he isn’t even able to look anywhere near you without feeling his face getting hot. the same could be said about you, honestly. the boldest you’ve ever been towards him is giving him a kiss on the cheek when he got a podium finish a month ago, and both of you were bright red afterwards even though you both loved it. it didn’t help that lando had, of course, been there to make fun.

“i’m sick of the two of you. oscar, mate, be a man and kiss her for real.” he’d said, laughing as the two of you somehow turned an even deeper shade of red and looked in opposite directions.

“shut up, lando, for fuck’s sake.” oscar grumbled, punching him in the shoulder a little harder than normal.

“ah,” lando had just laughed harder before setting his sights on you. “if he doesn’t grow a pair it’s gonna have to be you.”

“die,” you told him, not being dramatic about it at all.

“i love you guys too. but not as much as you love each other!” he called before being chased out of the room by oscar’s balaclava and your empty water bottle hurtling towards him.

neither of you could endure lando’s teasing sober, especially not oscar, who spent way more time with him. but here he is, so many shots in that he’s lost count, and you on his lap. he’s going to run with it for as long as possible.

the bartender brings over the shots you ordered, and you pick up both.

“don’t cut me off now, i’m almost drunk enough to ask you to come home with me,” oscar says, lips brushing your neck.

he smiles when he feels you shiver, dragging his hand a little further up your thigh. “save it for when we’re sober,” you giggle as his fingers play with the bottom of your shorts.

“i’m not brave enough to say this stuff to you when i’m sober,” he confesses with a sigh.

“you should be. you know i’ll say yes.” you down a shot, and then hold up the other. “you want this?”

he nods. clearly there’s some magic in the shots that finally allows him to be forward with you.

you lift yourself up, much to his dismay, but he relaxes when you simply turn to face him and straddle his hips. “come and get it, then,” you say with a playful smirk, before tipping back the shot and looking at him expectantly.

you don’t swallow. oscar feels like he’s about to explode. he doesn’t waste any time in leaning forward and firmly pressing his lips to yours, knowing that he would never be daring enough to do this sober, as much as he always wants to. your fingers slide into his hair, carding through the long strands like you’ve done it a thousand times. his hands find purchase on your back, pulling you forward, before they slide down to your hips and squeeze. your mouth opens in surprise, but he’s expecting it and opens his mouth as well, allowing the alcohol to pass from yours to his.

you part from each other for a moment, and oscar barely even registers the harsh burn of the alcohol when he swallows, too intent on kissing you until he can’t breathe.

“oscar,” you moan out against his lips, and fuck, you sound so hot that he can only moan back at you, hands traveling down to your ass and grasping it firmly.

you’re pressed so close to him that he can hear the hitch in your breathing when he does so. he moves his attention to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, wanting to know what places draw out those beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“oscar,” you say again, sounding more insistent, and he reluctantly lets you pull away. “not here.”

you giggle when his eyes light up. “but somewhere else?”

“somewhere else, when we’re sober.”

oscar pouts. “i don’t know if i can do this when i’m sober.”

“then i guess it’s gonna have to be me,” you echo lando’s words from last month with raised brows.

“lando can kiss my ass,” oscar says with a newfound determination. “i will do this when i’m sober.”

you grin. “that’s what I’m hoping for.”

note: the beginning of this was actually written for a fun little passion project of mine and i wanted to turn it into something a bit more. i hope u all enjoyed!

since this is being posted on march 12 it is important for me to say that this is most specially dedicated to @venusacrossthestars. my entire op81 week event is, but three years ago on this day, we met through a discord server, and i am so grateful to still know you today and call you my best friend. i love you bestie <3

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld @nessacarty1 @tswizzleismother @anythingforourmoonsy @meko-mt @solonelystill @tomriddleswhorecruxes @sammykiszkalover @landosgirl

#blurb #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[emlan]

Official acc already established that P plays arcade fighting games so why not have him test the waters with an MMO too? (Venigni bought him a PS5) Some FFXIV chatter under the cut:

Not sure what kinda WoL he made btw, surely miqo'te would entice a cat lover but I'm leaning heavily towards extremely basic hyur self-insert. I can also see him getting charmed by the premise of just being a Fun Little Guy (lalafel)

Romeo is 100% without a doubt a lala player though. As for Carlo… I thiiiiink messy short hair miqo(♀️)…? When it comes to jobs or even just roles I'm not sure how to pin any of them. I mean Romeo has a scythe in canon like RPR but I feel he's maybe more Tank aligned?

Gemini can't play but P made sure to get the Clockwork Lantern minion as a stand-in for him. For completions sake though; Gemini's WoL is… Honestly I could make an argument for many fitting options, but I'll settle on him confidently ending up with a [way too handsome] male Viera.

Real Boy Carlo lost patience with the controller and never got started but he would've quickly gotten banned for bad behavior anyway. His WoL would've been a copy of whatever P made or the gilseller bot default you get from skipping CC.

#lies of p #final fantasy xiv #p lies of p #geppetto lies of p #giuseppe geppetto #fourchenault leveilleur #romeo lies of p #carlo lies of p #gemini lies of p #sir carlo lies of p #real boy carlo #lop #ff14 #endwalker #final fantasy series

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Here, have a casual glimpse into my thought patterns and creative process:

*just scrolling about Tumblr and vibing to "Too Much Wine" by The Fratellis*

Too much wine?

Mihawk?

Mihawk drunk??

Wait wait wait WAIT what are they all like drunk?

GASP s h i n y h e a d c a n o n s

BLANK DOCUMENT HERE I FCKEN COME—

So anyway here's some headcanons about drinking too much (insert adult beverage of choice) with the OPLA boyos.

Implied that Reader is already in a relationship with each character in question.

I shall call it.......

HAMMERED

OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X AFAB!Reader

NSFW Headcanons

Kinda Kinktober I guess? Borderline shitpost, I had way too much fun with this.

♫♬♫ Too Much Wine - The Fratellis ♫♬♫

I'll take the mead from the table

Talk straight while I'm able

Until I'm nothin' less than a crime

Zoro

"Y'know, I actually have four swords, but we're gonna have to go somewhere more private if you wanna see the other one."

Rum, sake, beer, wine, whatever you're down for drinking so is he.

Zoro's got incredibly high endurance and stamina—it's going to take a while for him to show that it's affecting him at all, but once it does, he goes from zero to one hundred faster than you can say "onigiri."

Literally no in between, no tipsy or buzzed. Just sober and then stumbling over his own feet and swearing he absolutely is not drunk the whole time.

All those repressed emotions that he hides behind a mask of dry sarcasm on a day to day basis are coming out in full effect.

That means you're getting one of two Zoros—goofy Zoro or sad Zoro.

Goofy Zoro's going to have his arm around your shoulders, laughing his ass off about that time he caught that idiot Marine brat swinging his sword around bare-ass naked so he chopped off half his hair.

He's likely to get pretty flirty in this state, even downright playful, especially if you initiate it, and it's almost definitely going to end in him dragging you somewhere private to fuck your brains out, because his restraint is totally out the window at this point.

If you end up with sad Zoro, he'll be laying his head in your lap and slurringly asking whether or not you think he's ever really going to be the best swordsman in the world, probably still beating himself up over losing to Mihawk.

Just comb your fingers through his hair and do your best to reassure him that you love him and genuinely believe in him. Whether it works or not, he's going ti end up falling asleep in your lap, so be prepared to be stuck there for a while.

"But like...you really think, like, I can beat that bird-eyed bastard? I mean he fucked me up with a goddamn butterknife."

Sanji

"There we are—a beautiful drink for a beautiful woman."

Turbo Flirt Mode: activated.

Sanji is all for pairing wine with food, but if you're looking to get a little sideways, he's going to want to show off his mixology skills to impress you—and he's going to be making some dangerous concoctions, the kind that taste like there's not a drop of booze in them.

The more lit he gets, the less subtle the flirting. If you thought he was clingy sober, you are in for a surprise, because that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Head on your shoulder, puppy dog eyes, telling you how pretty you are and how much he adores you every thirty seconds, with a big silly grin like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

Brushing his lips along your neck and murmuring all the things he's going to do to you once the two of you are behind closed doors later—and he means every one of them, because you're utterly irresistible to him in this state.

He wants you giggling and blushing just as much as he wants you moaning and trembling under his touch.

Super playful once you are alone, even moreso than usual. He's definitely going to suggest doing body shots, he will beg if he has to, but honestly who in their right mind is going to turn him down?

"You're just...just so—so beautiful—honestly, it should be illegal."

Shanks

"Hold—hold my rum—no, no, just for a moment, I wanna see if I can do a backflip off the railing—"

Spoiler alert: he can't. Now he's lying on the quarterdeck alternating between hysterical laughter and "Oh God that hurt—"

Probably the most fun drunk in the world, but he can be a hazard to his own health as his judgement begins to lapse so someone's going to have to keep an eye on him.

If you're at a tavern or otherwise public location, do not under any circumstances let the man out of your sight for more than two seconds. He turns into a straight-up child, he can and will wander off, and you'll find him a mile away on top of a building, likely half-naked and singing sea shanties at the top of his lungs, with no clue as to how he got up there...or how to get back down.

He's developed quite a high tolerance over the years and tends mostly toward dark rum, though he won't turn down a stein of ale or beer.

Total life of the party energy—telling jokes and stories, he just wants to see everyone laughing and having the absolute best time.

Super, super flirty, he may as well have written the book on pick-up lines; and he doesn't care that you're already together, he's going to drop every single one of them on you just to see how much he can make you giggle or roll your eyes.

He's very likely to pull you onto his lap at some point and make out with you like no one's watching—he already doesn't really care who sees when you're both sober, but he really doesn't care after a little too much rum, so it's probably best to coax him to bed at this point.

He's perfectly happy with cuddling up, laying his head on your chest and draping his arm over you, just humming in contentment and falling asleep together...but if you want more, don't expect to get much sleep, because he wants you lasciviously.

To taste every inch of you, to suffocate between your thighs until you're screaming, to pull you onto his cock and watch you ride him until you're both too breathless and exhausted to do anything but tangle yourselves together in the sheets and drift off to sleep between slow, sensual kisses.

"Oh, princess, just when I catch my breath, you make me lose it all over again."

Mihawk

"If you insist on being such a brat about this, you're going to get what's coming to you."

Mihawk has a strong drive to be in total control of himself and everything happening around him at all times, which means he doesn't tend toward getting drunk.

But...he also has this wee little problem with his ego being larger than the entire volume of every combined ocean in the world. If you imply that you could drink him under the table...he's probably going to sneer and tell you to quit being a brat, but he's also going to be quite driven to prove you wrong.

He does love his wine, but it's generally only a glass or two to wind down and relax—he's definitely got a nice bottle of aged bourbon or eau de vie tucked away somewhere that's going to be coming out, because he's got something to prove now.

Unfortunately for him, due to the fact that he so rarely drinks heavily...he's a bit of a lightweight. Which he won't admit even to himself.

But it barely takes a single lowball of harder liquor to get that pale complexion of his a little flushed.

Perhaps just over three for him to start blinking a bit harder than normal in a futile attempt to get his vision to focus, to start speaking a bit slower to attempt to hide the slight slur in his words as you taunt him about it—which honestly only makes it more pronounced, and more amusing.

You had best enjoy it, because it's probably the only time you're going to hear the words, "Fine, you win," come out of his mouth—as well as perhaps the only time he won't be miffed about conceding. The alcohol in his system has him loosened up just enough that he can't pretend he doesn't find your boldness and sass at least a bit endearing...and even more alluring.

That being said, you're still getting punished for it, teased within an inch of your sanity, and he's going to enjoy every single second of it.

Setting his glass aside, plucking yours from your hand, pinning your hands above your head with a devilish smirk and slowly undressing you, his eyes on yours the entire time.

Trailing his fingertips across your bare skin, drawing closer and closer but never quite giving you want you want, his lips barely brushing against your neck, reminding you in an amused murmur in your ear that he could easily do this all night.

You did have the audacity to challenge him, after all—he has no choice but to remind you who's in charge.

"What is it, my little bird? Did you think you were going to get a consolation prize? You're still going to have to beg."

Buggy

"Bet you two thousand Berries I can shotgun two beers at once, watch this—"

And he basically ends up halfway drowning himself, but hey, you're two thousand Berries richer!

Honestly, there's no party like a Buggy party, because a Buggy party doesn't stop until someone loses a limb—probably him.

No, really. Don't let him use his devil fruit abilities. Keep a bucket of sea water on hand if you have to, because he may literally misplace one of his limbs and you're going to have to go on a Chop Chop Scavenger Hunt to help him find it while you're both completely smashed.

If Buggy's drinking, everybody's drinking, and everybody is getting completely fucked up. This is non-negotiable, he thrives on chaos and that's what he's intent on creating.

Anybody who passes out before him is getting something obscene drawn on their face in permanent ink. He can definitely hold his liquor, so if you can keep up with him then you can expect to be the last two living souls left conscious on the whole ship.

That being said, he doesn't care who's awake—things are going to get kinky, and he's really not bothered about anybody watching. Or joining in, for that matter. This whole operation very well may devolve into a drunken orgy if he has any say in the matter.

Then again, it may also devolve into him flopping dramatically across your lap and divulging absolutely all of his trauma in an emotionally-charged alcohol-induced rant. He won't remember it in the morning, so please do him a favor and don't remind him.

"Hey, uhh...I los—I lost my foot again. .....Sor—*hiccup* sorry."

#opla #dracule mihawk #mihawk opla #one piece fanfiction #mihawk #one piece #opla fanfiction #opla headcanon #sanji opla #sanji #sanji one piece #one piece zoro #zoro opla #one piece shanks #opla shanks #one piece buggy #opla buggy #buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #smut #headcanon #shitpost #kinktober

[skylarsblue]

★RDR2 Incorrect Quotes★

(If you see duplicates from my COD version of these? Shh, no you didn't) ★Border made by @fairytopea★

Ms.Grimshaw What are you doing, you oaf? Young!Arthur, staring at Y/N: They’re pretty. Ms.Grimshaw …and you’re ugly, now get back to work.

- (Pre-joining the gang) Abigail, trying to get paid: What’s your favorite color, John? John: Blue. No, green. Abigail: Awesome! I love learning about you. John: I fucked up, it’s yellow.

- Arthur, cutting a huge knot out of John’s hair: I fucked up, we gotta go bald. *head locks him still* Young!John, flailing violently: WAAAAAHHHH-

Seán: Psst, Lenny, ay mate, wake up! Lenny: Huh- Wh-what? What is it? Seán: I heard something outside the tent. Lenny: What? Seán: Like a woman crying in the distance, but I couldn’t hear her footsteps. Lenny: Okay?? What do you want me to do? Seán: Come look with me! Lenny: Hell no! Seán: Why not? Lenny: I got too much melanin and too much sense for that white people shit. You wanna let demons get you, be my guest, leave me out of it.

- (John HAD to have SOMETHING that captivated her, for humor’s sake? We’ll say he had jokes)

Abigail: You have to find my darling husband, I’m so worried about him. Arthur: Seriously, what do you see in that guy? Abigail: He makes me laugh.

- Micha: I've got the urge to say something. Arthur: And what's that? Micha: The N-Word- Arthur: WHOA-

- Bill: But seriously, is it your whole emo thing that she’s into or what? John: …yeah, long flowing straight hair, very emo.

- Karen: This- Hmm. Tilly: Be nice. Karen: I’m findin’ it. Mary-Beth: …it takes you that long to find- Karen: It does, it does.

- (O’Driscoll troubles) Kieran: Arthur we’re going to get murdered. We’re going to get murdered by a man who can’t tie a fucking bow tie. Arthur: At least he won’t torture us, can’t tie a rope either.

- John: Ugh, you know they’re gonna make us do one of those tacky family happiness photos that comes in the restaurants shitty frame. Tilly: Why are you so fucking negative all the time? John: Wh- uh- I just- Arthur: *slowly sucks tea through straw*

- Seán: Someone just said; “You’re a criminal!” Seán: *handkerchief on, gun in one hand, bag of money in the other* Seán: Well I’ll tell ya what, Sherlock Holmes. You are unbelievable.

- The Gang: Arthur is dying and Micha is a rat! Dutch, dancing with money: *insert that audio that goes “I don’t give a fuck cause I’m a ✨millionaire✨, I do what I want, middle finger in the air!”*

- John, drunk: You think the wind is ever tryna tell us something and we don’t know how to hear it anymore? Charles, loading up a drunk Arthur into a wagon: I just want you to stop saying odd shit.

- Abigail: If we lose, I’m gonna cut the judge. John: Wh- you brought your switchblade?? Abigail: Mhm. John: But they patted us down on the way in, where did you hide i- ohhhhhhh.

- Arthur: …you ever wish you could just, turn into a bird and fly away from everything? Charles: I think we need to get you to a therapist for depression. John: I’d wanna be a wolf. Charles: And we should get you psych evaluation for Autism.

- Sheriff: You seem like a reasonable and good natured person. Arthur: *looks around* And you look like you need glasses.

- Abigail: What would your father say?! Jack: Uhhh “I’ll fix it!” And then make it worse until luck comes around and makes it work, and then act like that was the plan the whole time? Abigail: …that’s my bad, I should’ve used a different phrase to express my disappointment.

- (I dunno why but John being super mean to some people is so fucking funny to me. I don't hate Bill, but bullying him is fun)

Bill: You enjoyin’ the wife everyone else paid to have? John: You mean the woman I never had to pay for? The woman who liked me so much, she didn’t ask for any money to sleep with me? In fact; she liked me so much, she married me? The woman who makes me a warm dinner and kisses me everyday? Mother of my child? John: I am enjoyin’ yeah. What about you, Bill? Bill: John: You enjoyin’ your lonely life, you unlovable sorry sack of shit? You enjoyin’ having to pay for someone to pretend they like you? Cause they never actually do. They hate you actually, like me. I hate you. Eat shit and die, Bill.

- Arthur: …him? Really? Mary-Beth Don’t be mean! Arthur: He looks like a rescue dog, Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth: I know, I like that! Arthur: ….you like that?? Mary-Beth: His pathetic wet eyes and general wimpy stature have captivated me. Arthur: *sigh* Whatever makes you happy.

- Bill: At the end of the day, Arthur. I am a MAN. Arthur: A MAN WHO’S GAY. You like fellers GETTHATTHROUGHYOURHEAD!

- Dutch: I have a plan. Hosea: You haven’t planned shit. Dutch: I’ve planned it.

- Hosea: Arthur! What on earth are you doing?! Young!Arthur: Getting rid of this demon. Young!John: *screeching and trying to get out of Arthur’s grip* Hosea: And why do you plan to get rid of him? Arthur: Because, Hosea! He woke me up by leaning over me and whispering, “I know what death feels like, it’s cold. Have you felt death?” Arthur: HE’S CLEARLY EVIL, HOSEA Hosea: That’s just how children are, Arthur. Dutch: He’s right son, put the boy down. Dutch, leaning and whispering to Hosea: But maybe we should buy a Bible just in case. Hosea: And a cross.

- (Modern au and suicide joke)

John: It’s not a phase! It’s a lifestyle, you just wouldn’t get it! Arthur: You think I didn’t go through the “I can’t tell if I want to kill myself or everyone around me” phase? Come on. John: What? I don’t wanna kill myself at all. Arthur: … John: … John: Should I- should we go talk to Hose- Arthur: We should forget this conversation happened. Take this Nirvana CD and keep your mouth shut.

- Abigail: …John. John: Yes, my angel? Abigail: You forgot something. John: No I didn’t! I took the list with me, checked it three times, even crossed things off when I put it in the cart! See, look. Apples, frozen hamhocks, cranberry juice- Abigail: John. You took Jack with you. John: Abigail: John: Abigail: John: SHIT I LEFT HIM BY THE PASTA SECTION Abigail: STOP STANDING THERE AND GO GET HIM!

- Jack: Pa, how did you get mom to marry you? John: Well son, I- John: John: I have no idea. Jack: Should I ask mom? John: I’ll be honest, I don’t think she knows the answer either.

- Charles: You did good back there. Arthur: Oh? Heh, nah, you did all the fancy stuff. I just helped. Charles: Don’t undersell yourself, Arthur. I wouldn’t be complimenting you for no reason. Arthur: Oh yeah? And here I thought you were just trying to fluff up my ego. Charles: Wouldn’t hurt to do when you work so hard, no? Arthur: Now you’re just being’ sweet- John: Can y’all wait til we’re done before you start your spiritual dick sucking? Arthur: Can you repent to the lord fast enough to save your soul in the time it’ll take me to throw you into the damn ocean, Marston?!

- Arthur: Do you even have a brain? John: Do you even have someone that loves you? Arthur: John: John: I heard it that time, I’m sorry. Arthur: This is what Abigail hears sometimes, just so you know. John: I heard it that time, I got it. I- I’ll just- Arthur: Whiskey, full bottle. The nice kind. John: Apology alcohol, got it.

-

NPC: My husband’s parents are so crazy. In-laws always are, huh? Abigail: Well, uh-

*John being an orphan* *John’s adoptive dads being criminals, one particularly off his rocker*

Abigail: ….aha, yeah;;

- Abigail: John Marston, you useless, foolish, stupid man! Bill: To hell with John! Abigail, suddenly with a very large gun: NO ONE INSULTS MY HUSBAND.

- Arthur, holding up a proper painting he actually put time and effort into: Could a depressed person make this? Charles: The painting: *a wolf in the rain laying it’s head over the body of a deer shot with an arrow* Charles: I’m, in fact, more convinced you have depression now. Arthur: …yeah this wasn’t the best evidence for my argument, huh? Charles: No. Not at all.

- John: What are you talking about? That’s completely normal, it’s like having opinions. just cause it doesn’t happen to you doesn’t mean- Tilly: No, John! No. It’s not normal to have that reaction to the sound of hearing metal on metal. John: No look, uh- Arthur! Arthur come here! Arthur: What now? John: What happens when you hear metal on metal? Like, a can bein’ rubbed with a knife. Arthur: Ugh, I hate that sound. It makes my damn skin crawl, like I got beetles underneath. Makes me wanna skin myself to get’em out. John: Right! See, Tilly? It’s not just me! Tilly: ????

Charles: …and you never got them evaluated? Hosea: In hindsight, an autistic diagnosis probably would’ve made more things make sense. But, what can ya do.

- Arthur after a dog didn’t positively react to him: Maybe this is my final straw. Charles: No. Arthur: It might be. Charles: It’s one dog. There are twenty that you stopped to pet along the way here, plenty more for you to pet after this. Arthur: You don’t understand, this is devastatin’. Charles: Arthur, please- Arthur: Utterly devastatin’, Charles.

- Arthur, tipsy: Just cause you’re gorgeous don’t mean I’ma do whatever you say. Charles: Drink the water, Arthur. Arthur: *grabs the glass* Yes, sir.

- (Got a Y/N one, also, modern Au)

Arthur: That’s the Aberdeen farm. Y/N: …what’s wrong with it? Arthur: What’cha mean? Y/N: The vibes, they’re off. Arthur: …the…vibes? Y/N: The energy, Mister Morgan. The vibe of the place. They’re off, they’re weird, wack even. I sense insidious and wretched wavelengths wafting from the aura of that property. Arthur: I see…well, to answer your question, it’s cause they are weird. And I ain’t even confirmed why cause I don’t really wanna know. Y/N: I see you can also sense the vibes are rank. Arthur: …sure, whatever that means.

- Micha: Well I think- Y/N: Well I’m certain no one fucking asked, Micha! Not a single damn person asked what the hell you thought, ever! In fact, I’m pretty sure you don’t think. I’m pretty sure your skull fills with all the bullshit in your organs, and it just spills out your mouth! Micha: Micha: I- Y/N: Shut up, Micha!

- Arthur, after Albert explains some super dangerous plan in order to get wild animals near him to photograph: You’re stupid, I like that in a man.

- Y/N: Bye Arthur, bye Karen, bye Hosea, bye Arthur. Sadie: You said ‘bye Arthur’ twice. Y/N: I like Arthur.

- NPC: Lovebirds, eh? Sadie: Arthur: Sadie: I’d rather eat a poison ivy plant with Holly Berries for dressing. *looks at Arthur* No offense. Arthur: No no, none taken. All things considered, I’d rather dive into a pit of tar and then drag myself face first through a plain of rotten chitlins. Sadie: Completely fair!

- Bill: I need you to realize you ain’t in charge here. Y/N: I need you to realize I don’t give a shit.

- Arthur: Hey Charles, uh, I got an Uhm…a spiritual question. Charles: Any particular reason you chose to ask me? Arthur: Uh well- I didn’t mean for it to be like that- I just- Charles: *sigh* What is it? Arthur: Do you know what it means when an elk stands up on its back legs? Charles: That means- Charles: WE SHOULD LEAVE, we need to leave, that’s what that means!

- Jack: …why are your boobs so big? Charles: They’re not boobs. Jack: Do you have to wear a brasier? Charles: *sigh* Arthur: He asked me the same thing a couple weeks ago, don’t think to hard bout it.

-

(Story spoilers!!) Y/N: I'm sorry, let me get this straight. Y/N: You picked up that man when he was a destitute child, grieving and starving. Taught him almost everything he knows. Y/N: Then, you did that with, what? Three others? In similar circumstances? Y/N: Created a sense of family and community, a strong bond between so many misfortuned people. With your trustworthy long term friend by your side. Y/N: And then. Y/N: One RAT. WHO IS OPENLY ANTAGONISTIC AND REEKS OF SUSPICION AS MUCH AS HE DOES HORSE SHIT, SOMEHOW CONVINCES YOU TO GO OFF YOUR ROCKER AND HARM YOUR GANG?! Y/N: Explain! Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: He praised me- Y/N: YOUR PRAISE KINK GOT YOU TO AIM A GUN AT YOUR SONS????

- Arthur: Naaah they’re an angel. Lenny: They punched Bill in the face. Seán: They told Strauss he was a waste of human material, in his own language, which they’re not fluent in. Mary-Beth: They framed Micha for a crime and got him put in prison again. Arthur: Like I said, an angel!

- John: Woman. (Translation: Darling.) Abigail: Moron. (Translation: Lovebug.)

Arthur: You tellin’ me they’re being affectionate right now? Jack: Can’t’cha read subtext, Uncle Arthur? Arthur: ???

-

(Insert Alcohol is truth serum reference)

Drunk Bill: Not to be gay, but you’re gorgeous bro. Kieran, afraid: You don’t have to be gay to appreciate a man’s beauty. Absolutely shit-faced Bill: Nah, like I’d fuck you, bro. Kieran, terrified: Okay, never mind!

- (How I imagine their first couple years together went)

Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: How do you feel about me? Hosea, naked & beside him: ….we’re sharin’ a bedroll, Dutch. Dutch: Yes, but what are we, Hosea? Hosea: ….we’re both naked, alone, in a tent, Dutch. Dutch: That doesn’t answer my question. Hosea:

- (This one's sad, not funny, sorry-) John: You’re such a hypocrite, why is it that anything I do that you’ve done before that you get so bent outta shape?! Arthur: Because I’ve done it before you, John. John: So why do you think it’s fair to tell me not to?! Most people are proud when their younger brother ends up like’em. You don’t want anyone like you, is that it? Arthur: John: John: …oh. Arthur: Now that you got my point, will you take my god damn advice without a big fuss…please.

- John: She drives me insane! She somehow managed to make me the angriest I’ve ever been almost daily. NPC: Then leave her. John: The fu- no. What? She’s the wind beneath my wings, my darling wife, my beautiful angel. How the hell could you even think to suggest such a thing? NPC: But- John: Get outta my sight, you fuckin’ disgrace.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr #red dead fandom #arthur morgan #abigail marston #john marston #jack marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #javier escuella #sean macguire #lenny summers #tilly jackson #karen jones #mary beth gaskill #charles smith #bill williamson #kieran duffy #sadie adler #red dead redemption x reader #john marston x abigail roberts #charles smith x arthur morgan #charthur

[cannibaled]

situations

wanted to challenge myself, since i'm used to only writing for ocs. i thought it'd be fun doing something different with a preexisting character and self insert :3 —

☆ warnings: none, slight nsfw. mostly in language.

☆ premise: possessive felix, farleigh being farleigh

it was difficult being felix catton's best friend. much less, his younger best friend.. which, happened to only be by a year, by the way.

despite this fact, he treated you like a child. as if he was an overprotective college brother, holding control over his high-school sister. except, you both attended college. the. same. one. you were schoolmates, for gods sake.

there was a set of unspoken rules felix expected you to follow. with you both attending oxford, it only made it that much easier for him to watch you.

you could be friends with his friends, but not too close with the guys. you couldn't hook up at parties if he was there. he would make a scene, and bust the poor guys ass. it was aggravating. you were grown, desperate to explore college hookup culture with an itch that needed scratching, and despite how annoying he was, he was sweet. you couldn't just snap at him. just imagining him looking like a kicked puppy enough to scar you for years. and, he did he mean well, really. his execution just sucked.

you took a drag from the joint that hung lazily between your fingers, inhaling the smoke that escaped from your lips. loud music, muffled due to the barrier of doors separating you from the party inside, caused the large house to vibrate. it was late, and the summer air had cooled into a refreshing breeze. something you needed desperately, having felt suffocated from the hot, sweaty bodies that trapped you in.

the door opened and closed, slamming shut with forcefulness that demanded attention. you turned, looking up curiously at the person who interrupted your pity party. there farleigh start stood, in all his 6'5 glory. he quirked a thick eyebrow at you and took a seat next to you on the step, leaning back with a sort of lazy confidence that caused your lips to twitch.

"well, look who it is," the boy drawled sarcastically. "little (L/N)."

"shutup," you groaned, giving him a glare when he plucked the joint from your fingers.

he took a drag himself, playfully blowing the smoke in your face. it was always difficult, with farleigh. you never really knew if he was playing around, teasing, or genuinely being mean-spirited sometimes.

"i'm finding it difficult to understand why the hell you're out there, when the party is in there."

you didn't respond, still pouting over the joint. his lips quirked into an amused grin, and he held it back out to you.

"what? will felix crucify you for joking back or something?"

"ha ha ha." you responded dryly, snatching the joint back. you took one last drag before putting it out, slipping it back in the little case you carried around. "i'm just having a bad night, and i'm not in the mood for your bullying."

"what's up?" he was still leaning back on his elbows, but when you looked at him - really looked at him, you could see a twinkle of concern in his pretty brown eyes. you swallowed, feeling annoyed. pulling your knees towards your chest, you rested your elbow upon them and your head in a hand. "it's embarrassing."

"oh, come on. i'm not going to make it a big deal." you shot him a suspicious look, and farleigh held his hands up in surrender.

"just..it's annoying. not being able to date, and stuff. felix is really overprotective, and it's annoying. and of course, everyone listens to the tall golden boy."

"i see," farleigh tsked. "so, you need to fuck, but felix is preventing that."

you turned your body so you could smack at him, causing him to laugh and grab your wrists. "way to be blunt, dude," you hissed, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"c'mon, it's nothing to be shy about. sex is perfectly natural." your eyes flickered down to his large hands, which swallowed up your wrists. you took a shaky deep breath, but made no move to pull away.

"why am i even having this conversation with y-"

"i can help."

you blinked. "huh?"

"i said, i can help. i'll fuck you. luckily for you, i happen to be the only guy in this preppy ass school who isn't afraid of felix."

you stared at him in surprise, and he simply raised his eyebrows at you, an amused smirk on his lips. "well? you can say no."

"..fine."

you remembered every detail from that night. from the way you felt eyes burning into your back as you and farleigh kissed hungrily, almost devouring each other. from the way the feeling of being watched intensified as you and him left to his room - or, more so, how he dragged you along, and you struggled to keep up. everything was clear in your mind from the moment your lips locked once more in the privacy of his room, the way his hands eagerly but gently undressed you, to after, when you tell asleep on his chest.

that's why, it was difficult for you to understand why he was denying anything had happened. you remembered him saying he wasn't afraid of felix, so, why?

you had woke to pure chaos, alone in farleigh's bed. you rushed to your room to get dressed before heading downstairs, tired eyes falling onto a pissed off felix, and annoyed farleigh. oliver sat quietly, his icy eyes observing the two quietly.

"what the fuck is going on?" you huffed out, almost jumping when felix turned to face you.

"did you and farleigh fuck?"

"w-what? excuse me?"

"oliver said you did. he saw you two leaving together and making out."

you stared in disbelief.

"yes." you said finally, crossing your arms over your chest.

"oliver is a lying, delusional little bastard." farleigh spat, and you shot him a hurt glare.

"yeah, i find it hard to believe you can't keep it in your pants, far," felix shot back, sarcastically.

"i wouldn't fuck her if we were the last two people on earth, felix."

that did it. your face stung with anger, hot and red, your eyes burning with tears. the room was quiet and still, and the irritated furrow in farleigh's brows dropped. he knew he went too far.

"you know what - this is bullshit. im a grown ass woman. so, believe what you want, but i can have sex with whoever the hell i want. you don't own me, and you can't protect me forever."

jaw clenched, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs, slamming your room door. the old estate shook, but all you could do was throw yourself in bed, and scream into your pillow.

you stayed holed up in your room all day. meals were brought to you, courtesy of duncan and you guessed, venetia, who felt bad and requested it. you only opened your curtains to smoke by the window, attempting to avoid the three as much as possible. you knew you wouldn't be able to stay in there forever, but you needed to calm down. to breathe. you didn't go out to seek them, and they left you alone as well.

it was late when you heard a knock on your room door, and you peeked over the pillow that you buried your face in. you were restless, eyes swollen from crying. how ironic was it that you visited saltburn to celebrate another successful year, to get away from the stress of school, and let go; but, yet, you were more stressed than the exams and studying could have possibly made you.

you didn't answer to whoever was at the door, instead turning away. regardless, whoever it was decided to let themselves in, and you sat up angrily, eyes locking with farleigh's.

"what do you want?"

"i was worried about you."

"great. you see that i'm very much alive, so... bye."

his eyebrows twitched with annoyance, but, surprisingly, he didn't make a snide mark in return. he took a seat next to you, his large body taking up most of the space in your little bed. you scooted away, as if you had been burned, curling into yourself and leaning against the headboard. neither of you said anything. you stared, and he fidgeted with the bracelet that hung loosely on his wrist.

"i thought you weren't afraid of felix." you spoke, your voice cold. he looked up, peeking over at you from beneath his lashes. you suddenly felt angry again. why did he have to be so pretty? and why did he have to look so.. vulnerable?

"i'm not afraid of him. but i'm afraid of losing him." you said nothing. you supposed that was fair.

"but," he continued, his deep voice raspy from yelling earlier. "i should've stood up to him. lets face it, you're an adult. i am, too. plus, oliver is a nosy little shitstarter." you hid your amused smile in your knees.

"you know, i wasn't even all that angry with you. i was hurt. felix and oliver? i was pissed. but, it's just, like.." you took a deep breath when farleigh looked at you, and outstretched your legs.

your hands shook ever so slightly, but you rested them under the backs of your knees. "i really like you. you're always so catty, and sometimes really mean. but i still like you and i don't know why. i mean, i know why," you scratched your cheek awkwardly, your face burning. you avoided looking at him. "i was really happy when you made a move on me last night. but i don't know, when you said what you did today, i felt scared that you just wanted that to be a one time thing."

"baby, i purposely went looking for you," he responded, just as blunt as ever. but, he was gentle. soft. he gingerly gripped your ankles and pulled you closer to him until your butt was flush against his thigh, and propped your legs over his lap. his large hands rested on your legs, rubbing circles into your skin. "it's hard for me to commit, and shit. you've known me for a while, so you know that." you simply hummed. "but, i want to apologize for being a major dick, and make it up to you."

you felt dizzy. sick, almost. resting your head on his broad shoulder, you peered up at him, taking in his pretty features. how annoyingly clear and smooth his skin was, how his lips were naturally pouty.

"and how do you intend to do that?"

"fuck, i'm not a date person, but-" you gave him a look. he swallowed, and gave you a lopsided grin in return. "butttt, i would like to take you out. okay?"

"i thought you were supposed to be making it up to me."

"yeah?"

you looked at him expectantly, and his head fell back into the wall behind him. groaning softly, he closed his eyes, his smile widening. "god, okay. please?"

"please what?"

"please, go out with me."

you hummed, pretending to think, and plucked faux lint from his shirt. he narrowed his eyes at you, squeezing your calves roughly. "c'mon."

"okay, okay. i guess i could, since i'm free and all."

"you'd be free, anyway. i'd have you make time for me."

with a toothy grin, you scooted closer and closer until you could throw yourself over your lap, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. his hands found their rightful place on your hips, before slipping down to grip your ass.

"farleigh start, you are spoiled."

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x reader #felix catton #oliver quick #jacob elordi #barry keoghan #farleigh #oliver #felix #venetia catton

[time-is-restored]

do you guys every think abt death vs immortality as a thoroughline in like. literally all of the mechs albums.

old king cole is explicitly warped by immortality (never to forgive he would eternal live, his hands dyed red by gore - can be read a few ways depending on where u place the emphasis, but at the very least communicates that his wrath is facilitated By his immortality), and the olympians commit attrocities in order to hold onto their wealth and the immortality that it grants them (murdering arachne, yanking heracles' chain the second he tries to go freelance, having a monopoly on the acheron etc). the value they put on immortality and living forever, and the fear they have of ever possibly losing it, has completely warped their morals and priorities.

and while it comes up less in tbi, there's still significant emphasis placed on how odin has been in power for a century (both thor + the narrator bring it up, and there's also an emphasis on how long ago the bifrost project was started, and how 'no one left living' can explain its science). her villain monologue in rangarok iv places the extinction of asgard as an honour - a ruin that no one can possibly rebuild from is called 'apotheosis'. and as she says at the end, the idea that no one can possibly outlive her is a key draw for odin. asgard dies with her.

in hnoc, the only really immortal character is brian (and we only really know that bc of knowledge we get from outside the album), but the axis of life and death as a privilege vs a curse is still very present. 'mordred's gift to Arthur could be love in his own eyes / fating him alone to keep the life to which he clings', not only posits that the gift of survival isn't inherently good + kind (which the audience would immediately recognise as love, not possibly love), but places emphasis on the fact that arthur is now utterly alone. the station's death at the hands of mordred is hardly a happy one ('Its people damned, doomed by a man who's lost all his regrets'), but arthur's fate is arguably worse. severed from the finality and closure of death, what does he become? [insert that one cool theory abt hnoc arthur becoming old king cole here]

it's like. on a meta level, the reason we as fans don't put much emphasis on the depravity + cruelty of the mechs is bc the people portraying the mechs are all charismatic + skilled performers. in live gigs they're all portraying the fun side of their characters - roasting each other, bantering with the audience, making fun of the characters they're singing about, referencing off-screen violence - bc if they portrayed their lore too literally they'd be comitting felonies LMAOOO

but narratively, its like. literally every album is a meditation on the ways that the glorification of immortality can ruin civilisations - can ruin galaxies. whether its rooted in the fear of you specifically dying, or of being outlived, or overpowered or forgotten, or if its done for the sake of someone else's survival... it's all corrosive. if u refuse to accept the indisputable impermanence of life, you lose the ability to value it, and u numb urself to the reality of just how fucked up it is to cut another person's life short for any reason.

like. i do think some of the mechs started as good people, and some of them even might still have ethical standards, but i REALLY cannot stop thinking about how fucking. fascinating it is that this group of immortals who are KNOWN for basically considering nothing but how fun and/or violent any given activity will be, have basically filled their entire discography with songs about how their continued existence is corrosive and brings tragedy + ruin wherever they go.

so how self-aware are they? do you think those old morals + ethics still linger in their mind, when they're writing down these tragedies? they willingly self identify as liars + thieves + bastards, etc etc, and they seem to have no trouble identifying the 'bad guys' in the various albums (ie: humanising snow + cinders + rose, but not king cole), but do those concepts actually mean anything emotionally, or even theoretically, for them all beyond their dramatic potential? do they remember their lives before they were mechanised as it actually happened, or do they remember it as lyrics to a song? is it possible to be entirely self aware abt ur own capacity for violence (as jonny in paticular claims to be), if you no longer relate to violence as anything other than a narrative device - a means to an end, whether comedic or dramatic?

#the mechanisms #mechanisms #mechs #its not even that i have a specific passion for super grimdark mechs characterisation #just from a thematic perspective it is SO interesting to have these characters #narrating tragedies who themselves dance in and out of narrative conventions + signifiers of good + evil #and also like. literally transform themSELVES into narratives via backstory fiction + songs #its all so like. was there ever a truth here? if its all been forgotten + replaced with stories? can any of them care about good and evil #anymore on a level beyond how it will make an audience react? #idk. i care them #mine #my writing

[ghostlykeyes]

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: HEADCANONS ♡ TW : Drug mentions/Usage ♡ TW: Food mentions ♡ No pairings/ not reader-insert

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAYN 

Ever since joining Heartsteel, Kayn's 'Rhaast' outbursts have lessened in frequency and severity. Of course, his alter-ego makes regular appearances, but being with a group that encourages and accepts him rather than holds him back and tries to get him under control has made it so that Kayn feels less need to express his feelings in such an explosive, reckless way. Of course, he'll never admit that his newfound friends are the reason for his recent (very, VERY slight) stability.

Kayn is extremely choosy with his jewelry. He fronts like he doesn't want to wear "cheap, lame shit"—but actually, he just reacts to most metals. If he doesn't check to make sure his earrings are hypoallergenic, he ends up with a massive rash. Why the excuse? He is NOT about to admit he has sensitive skin.

Probably not a surprise, but Kayn breaks his phone CONSTANTLY. With all his reckless antics, it's rare for a new phone to last him more than a few months. The silver lining is that he at least has his emergency contacts (the Heartsteel members, of course) memorized from entering them into his contacts list so often.

Kayn also has a burner phone he uses for Rhaast.

Maybe you'd expect Kayn to have an enormous rager for his birthday, but the truth is, he doesn't actually like that many people. Instead he invites a handful of his actual friends to the shared Heartsteel apartment for a joint Halloween/birthday party. Costumes mandatory, noise complaints expected. Kayn will tell you to your face if he thinks your costume is stupid.

Kayn's got a lucky guitar pick. Somehow, he’s never lost it.

Wherever Kayn goes, property damage often follows. For Heartsteel's sake, he's cleaned up his act a tiny bit, mostly because he's scared of respects Yone, who gets pissed whenever Kayn breaks too much shit. But come on, you can't deny a man all of life's simple pleasures—you gotta let him graffiti the side of a water tower every once in awhile, or blow up the occasional car.

Notorious for social media rampages, Kayn's been banned from using the Heartsteel twitter. (The last straw was him using the account to threaten a member of his old band. Apparently, Alune didn't think "I'LL FUKKIN DOXX U LOL" an appropriate use of the official twitter account.) He's still semi-active on his personal accounts, but only in sporadic bursts.

Kayn knows how to tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue.

Like most rockstars, Kayn dabbles in cocaine. His drug use is pretty limited, though, mostly because he doesn't really need drugs to be high-energy and unhinged. When clips of his erratic behavior surface or Kayn goes on a twitter rampage, newer fans often speculate about Kayn being on drugs. Veteran Heartbeats know that he’s just Like That, though. 

Kayn says he doesn't have a favorite bandmate. (He does. It's Ezreal.)

A lot of the time, Kayn has to be reminded to eat. When he's busy writing songs or hanging out with the band, stopping for a bite never crosses his mind. Thankfully, Sett's on top of his meal schedule (gotta hit those macros!) so he'll remind Kayn that lunch is a Thing That Exists.

Kayn spends a ridiculous amount of time on his nails. Cuticles? Trimmed. Polish? Immaculate, and always black or burgundy. Topcoat? Applied and glass-smooth. Of course he'll deny that his nail routine is so precise because it doesn't fit his devil-may-care image, but come on. Chipped OPI and hangnails? Couldn't be him.

Kayn hates nothing more than the passenger seat. Let him drive! Yes, he knows that he's gotten two speeding tickets in the past three months. Yes, he's completely aware that K'sante got violently carsick the last time Kayn drove everyone to Taco Bell. He does not care. He will NEVER care. Driving is fun and driving recklessly is really fun.

You won't catch Kayn in a salon. He dyes and cuts his own hair in his bathroom. (How is it still so perfect?!)

Kayn is way too eager to help Aphelios pull pranks on people. Unfortunately, he can dish it out, but he can't take it. A prank on Kayn has a 50/50 chance of putting him in a sour, bitchy mood for the next hour.

Of all the band members, Kayn's the one that spends the most time alone. He doesn't have many friends outside Heartsteel. And, even though he knows his band has his back and he appreciates them, he needs frequent social breaks.

Kayn's the ultimate night owl. It's rare for him to go to bed before 4 AM. Despite this, he's always up before ten. Maybe it's Yone's rigorous recording schedule that gets him up. Maybe he's so high-energy, his body can't stand staying still for more than six hours. Maybe, though, it's just all the Monster energy drinks.

Consider it a sign that he likes you if Kayn spam-texts you. If he doesn't, he won't even bother responding. (But, if he suddenly stops texting you out of the blue? Don't worry. He probably broke his phone. Again.)

#Kayn #Sheida Kayn #league of legends #heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel headcanons #I am so fucking sorry that riot FUCKING games is what it took to bring my inspiration back #shadow assassin form is like finish your wips but rhaast is in my ear screaming POST LEAGUE TWINKS #sorry 4 being a gamer on main #tw drugs #tw drug use #these are general HCs but if there's interest I'm super down to write more romance/ reader insert themed ones !

[heartfullofleeches]

What if kraken yan went on heat due to their brain being like " clownfish reader = good mate " and had to almost hold themself back due to siza difference 😭 or something bcus it'd be ROUGH for clownfish y/n

[suggestive under cut]

Those who claimed true love came without quarrel were fools.

All around, you were the perfect mate. A curious, charming little thing in need of protection only they could provide and a natural talent for preforming - a good laugh all they needed to brighten their spirits. Some of your best material came from doing as they should long ago and taking you into their loving tendrils. How absolute adorable you look when trying to swim away while they're resting. You thinking you could ever get away was the most hilarious joke they ever heard. If there was anything issue in your relationship, it would have to be what they loved about you most.

Your size.

No bigger than a sailboat they're capable of swallowing whole, it's safe to say the act of consecrating your mateship would have great tax on you. While caught in the heat of your performances or fast sleep, your mate took the liberty of measuring themselves to your smaller stature to keep the lengths of their depravity unknown to your fragile mind. You're still getting used to having a partner which they get, and would hate to sour your budding relationship with their perverse needs. An ideal proven troublesome by the change of season.

Truthfully, you were too good of a mate for them. Your size left wonderful things to the imagination. Their claws being an faultless fit for your frame heightened those thoughts tenfold. Nestled in the palm of their hand as they prepped you with their fingers and tongue which you could surely take, the fantasy dashed upon remembrance you probably do well going further.

Still the imagery kept them mostly sedated until the terrible heat that plagues them began. Even now with you cradled in their tendrils angelic as can be all they wanted to do was drag you from that innocence and claim what's theirs. You stir in your sleep, expression slowly distorted by discomfort. It isn't long before you wake up.

"My love... What troubles you?"

You roll your cheek against the tentacle closes to your face which makes their ancient heart quake. "There's.. something between tooth. I tried to get it out earlier, but I couldn't."

"Poor thing. Let me see if I can help."

The kraken carries you into the crook of its humanoid arm, prying your lips open and examining your mouth for the cause of your pain. There's a fish bone stuck between your front teeth. It takes everything for them to not burst out in tears of laughter. Cautiously, they use the point of their claws to wedge the bone free. Your body noticeably relaxes once its out, lips closed around their large fingers and tail extended down the length of their arm. Could you be more adorable?

"Is that better for you, dearest?"

You nod, head dipped low too preoccupied by fatigue and their finger weighting your tongue to do much else. The suction of your mouth is almost too much to bare in their current position. Testing the waters, your mate inserts another finger into your mouth. The two alone fill the cavity with little room to spare, tightness mirroring some of their more twisted fantasies of stuffing you full elsewhere. Your reflex kicks in as they reach too far back, and while that excites them further they know they've had their fun. The kraken pulls their fingers from your mouth and wraps you back up in their tendrils - the only way you'd been able to sleep since your capture. Maybe someday they could figure out a safer way for you to become one. For your sake and theirs.

#Clownfish reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere teratophilia #Yandere sea monster #yandere drabble #yandere x darling

[the-illiterate-pirate]

La Squadra NSFW headcanons because I'm feral ♡

Cut for length (and content ofc)

Risotto

- Literally one of the most vanilla guys you'll meet in the Mafia. Don't get me wrong my man has his kinks but he's pretty bare bones

- Contrary to popular belief he's not a big fan of blood play and doesn't like to mix work with intimate affairs. He does have a bit of an oral fixation (giving and receiving) and really likes saliva though

- His member is pretty average sized actually. I mean compared to this mountain of a man it may look a bit small but trust me, he knows how to use it

- Does in fact have a cock piercing. It's a magic cross, have fun looking that up. Apparently it helps stimulate too

- His favorite position is cowgirl

Prosciutto

- Sleeps around a lot tbh but really wants to settle down with a special someone after leaving the gang

- Honestly I would not trust him with aftercare he thinks it's lighting a cigarette with a glass of (insert liquor because idk wtf Italians drink)

- Super lazy but can be a really good brat tamer if you push him

- Doesn't have a daddy kink but loves being called "Sir" and likes a power imbalance

- Will smack that ass and it will hurt

- Will fall asleep after finishing his glass but will at least offer to cuddle

Pesci

- Dreams of becoming the perfect man in bed. But I mean he's already got 5/5 stars with aftercare so he's halfway there. Like he can be buck naked and shaking but he'll still ask you if you're okay and try to comfort you afterwards

- Has the BIGGEST dick in the group I won't take criticism or notes my man is PACKING HEAT he just doesn't know how to use it (yet) take caution

- Low-key a masochist and likes to be bossed around but can be a little fragile, please be good and make sure to check up on him uwu. If things get too heavy he might try to force himself to do something to the point he ruins the experience for himself :( communication is key with him

- On a lighter note he VERY MUCH enjoys queening/kinging and will gladly let you sit on his face

- PRAISE HIM PLEASE HE'S A GOOD BOY TRYING HIS BEST AND HE NEEDS TO KNOW IT

Formaggio

- Okay yes he likes pet play are you happy. Luckily he's a major bisexual switch so it can go both ways. He likes being your good puppy <3

- STOP GIVING RISOTTO THE SIZE KINK WHEN IT RIGHTFULLY BELONGS TO THIS KING HIMSELF. He WILL use his Stand on you when you least expect it because he's an ass this is your warning

- Like stated before big switch energy, is a nasty dom when he wants to be but will only bottom if you soft dom him because he does not believe in equality

- He FALLS ASLEEP IMMEDIATELY afterwards and he SNORES because he HATES HIS S/O /j

- Also really loves oral and giving sloppy head. Mf DROOLS EVERYWHERE

Illuso

- Likes to act like a bad bitch but loves when he gets pampered like he will melt if you play with his hair

- Another switch (like most of the JoJo cast but whatever) but it's easier for him to bottom because he's lazy.

- LOVES receiving overstimulation for some reason like suck this man dry until he cries he'll be living it up. Safe words exist for a reason and he use it to his (dis)advantage

- VOICE KINK !! All types of noises from you can get him off. With good ole' Lulu it's important to be vocal, tell him how you feel, make noise, dirty talk, the whole nine yards

- Has a little issue with self worth so like praise this baby, worship this baby, he'll be in heaven

- Shockingly? Pretty good with aftercare

Ghiaccio

- Oh my god it's so easy for him to get overwhelmed and he HATES IT I'm begging for your sake treat him gently

- Easy to fluster because he's pretty new to relationship stuff and he'll need you to show him the ropes. You could very well be one of his first, sex is very intimate for him and he'd like to stick with one person

- Low-key bites

- Due to Stand reasons his limbs are very cold, he will use this against you

- I said Risotto was vanilla but man Ghia might take the cake, he's a bit of a stiff when it comes to the bedroom, but that isn't always bad. He likes good old missionary and making sure he takes care of you, but if he's overly stressed he'll give you the reigns for the night

- If all goes well, and he isn't overstimulated, sex actually really helps him relax, he's a lot more bubbly afterwards and likes to stay up with you, talking, drinking water (but not eating anything because he refuses to have crumbs in the bed)

Melone

- Has the WEIRDEST fixation on bodily fluids like I get where he's coming from but WHY

- As smooth as a baby. Everywhere. We think he waxes but we haven't seen proof yet. He's also got a pretty dick.

- Ribbons, ropes, chains, leather, he's a really big fan of restraints as long as there's a safe word and you're both on the right track

- Totally down to try anything, just ask. He's eager to please.

- Yes.... He has a breeding kink. He wants a big family

- Idk what you call it but pls pls pls let him suck on your titties while you jerk him off. He can die happily

- Really likes the 69 position (with him on top)

Sorbet & Gelato

- Buy one get one free, you cannot get one without the other let's make that clear. They're both sadistic meanies and will not let you top

- Double penetration or spit roasting is a MUST

- Being in a relationship with each other for so long they've gotten good with aftercare, Gelato is more touchy feely while Sorbet is all about snacks and vitamins

- Sorbet bites, Gelato fucking claws. They're both very into marking you up everywhere and love the embarrassment they get from you

- They love you, they really do... But sometimes they can get a little caught up in the moment with their own makeout sessions

- Afterwards you all just collapse into a pile of limbs lol

#steamy writing #jjba headcanons #la squadra x reader #la squadra #golden wind #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet x reader #gelato x reader #risotto nero #prosciutto jjba #formaggio #illuso #pesci jjba #melone jojo #ghiaccio

[erenspussy420]

Which twst characters do you think would be into face sitting?

This is a list of me brainrotting who would be into it. I wrote this with one eye open. Finally after a pretty bad month, I can write things.

FEM Reader Insert

Tags: Face sitting, oral, Mod 420 Is a simp, aged-up chracters

MDNI 18+ ONLY

JSNAM OKAY I AM TRYING SO HARD NOT TO BE A HOE AND SAY THEY'RE ALL INTO IT BUT HERE ARE MY HOT TAKES

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR: 

SNAJAL HE'S THE ONE WHO HAS TO COAX YOU TO COME SIT ON HIS FACE. Like ugh, Leona could coax me to do the weirdest things and I would. Listen. He. Wants. You. On. His. Face. That man is licking his lips as you tentatively come down, he hands on will take you down so you can sit on his face already. He isn't a coward. Leona has been waiting for this. He likes it alot when you have your panties on, it's fun when the seams get torn off but a flick of his sharp nails. He is a menace, tearing up your panties like that so he can eat you up, making you cum on his face with his hands clamped tightly on your hips to keep you in place. He loves the way you shudder around him, clamping your thighs around his head. This man is demanding, him telling you to stop being afraid and fuck his face. He isn't always this generous so use him.

RUGGIE BUCCHI: 

HE'S EATING LIKE HE'S STARVING HERE. God, listen his filthy moans as he licking you up, hands gripping onto your thighs to keep him there while his hips are fucking the air. Ugh he's messy, but Ruggie is willing to die there, babe let's be real Ruggie's gonna do his best to make you squirt on him. I can trust in Ruggie and his shifty eyes, wouldn't tear up your panties like a certain lion, (listen underwear is expensive), but believe it or not he really likes it when you have your underwear on for him, when you sit on his face he burrows his nose in your clothed pussy. While he doesn't tear up your underwear, he sure is pocketing it while you're too busy trying to remember how to walk. He would probably use his Laugh With Me on you, to make him suffocate more with your hips matching the pace of his. 

CATER DIAMOND: 

ya'll see that meme where the person got a neck brace on after having their gf ride their face so hard? That's Cater. Literally him updating on Magicam after you face fucked him so hard. Winking at the camera while the tags read #TheThroneHasBeenRepaired 💗. Cater goes viral for that and doesn't get any facesitting for a while :(((.  He's down for it ok, so eager, dick flushed up red and leaking as he's jacking off as you ride him. Fistful of his hair in your hands and his tongue licking you up. Lips sucking noisily on your clit. Please know Cater gives me vibes of someone who would do this in a semi public place. Probably in the maze when no one is around for those photoesque pics with his face between your thighs and hands on your ass. His moaning is almost loud, keep pulling his hair to remind him he's gonna get you caught, but you're only making him go louder. Cater's clones help with making you go a bit rougher with him, one helping keeping you down, another sucking and playing with you chest and one praising you to keeping moving keep going fuck him into the hospital again as the clone keeps your legs spread for Cater. *please don't for Trey's sake*.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Listen JUST LILISTE....he isn't just hiding in his octopot as the ONLY place for comfort. Now he has you. And your legs. He only does this behind locked doors in his own room, where no one can barge into it. He's all red faced as you lower yourself on him, but the groan he lets out makes you throb with need. His hand on your back rubbing it down to squeezing your ass while another hand presses your thighs against his burning cheeks. Just like the pot, this closeness keeps him safe. Of course he does brush his lips over your clothed pussy. Kneading it with his hands and pushing it away so he delved into the wet folds. Azul's starts off shaky but over time he becomes more and more confident in making you come on his face. The time you finally can sit on him in his merform the more …stimulating is for the both of you. Tentacles holding you above him almost hovering, as his hands now on your hips pushing them down on him as he eats you, the suckers on his tentacles playing with your chest, nipples getting suctioned and your clit being played with has you coming on him in no time. 

Rook Hunt: 

THIS GUY. THIS FUCKING GUY. UGH HIS ARM STRENGTH IS AMAZING. THOSE ARMS KEEPING YOU BALANCED ON HIM WHILE YOU SIT ON HIS FACE, HIS MOUTH SUCKING ON YOU CLIT. I AM BRAINROTTING OVER THIS MAN. 

*breathes* 

Okay I'm good. This is the first time he is ever quiet, but that's because he is too focused keeping his mouth busy. He will go at it for hours, his jaw can be sore, his face soaked from you cumming on his face. Fingers dipping into you to keep you stimulated, only to be replaced by his tongue. His hands do keep busy, roaming down your sides, up your chest gliding over your skin in a reverenced sort of way that should be cherished. The few times he comes for air, he's kissing your clit, mummering in soft French,"Mon doux petit bouton de rose." God, the way his voice just deepens with devotion and lust, has you buck down on him for more. Love it when you reverse sit on him, he enjoys everything about this. Pants/skirts on or not he doesn't really care, what he wants is the beauty of you using him, the suffocation between your legs. Rook will die here. Yes please as long as Rook has a face you have somewhere to sit. Please remember to kiss his mouth, sticky with cum. He's a devoted man, kiss him like the goddess he worships you as. 

Sebek Zigvolt : 

I know this is a surprise but you can't look me in the eye and say Sebek isn't a submissive man and would very much want you to sit on his face. OBVIOUSLY YOU FILTHY HUMAN WITH YOUR DEGENERATE THOUGHTS HAVE CORRUPTED HIS TONGUE TO LOOSELY CONFESS, BUT HE SUPPOSE HE MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR HIS WORDS. Please sit on him, ass first ok. This half human half fae man, can handle the most rigorous climates so please do not be afraid to sit on his face! Sebek is pretty bashful about this, but he's tenting and it's speaking volumes how much he wants this. His hands are on your ass, playing with them muttering under his breath, how it feels nice as it looks, his breath hitching as you lean forward to massage his crotch. Please keep teasing him, he's a mess here and knowing he's strong as hell he would probably have to turn you around so he eats you out with you on top. Sebek mouth is occupied keeping you pleased with it, hump his face! Make him beg for more of you. When you switch again, his hands keep your slit open for him to get back to work, your hands playing with his cock as a reward.

Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker/ Che'nya:

Che’nya’s totally using his unique magic to his advantage. He actually didn’t even realize he was into it until you sat on him by mistake. To be fair to you, you poor poor reader, Che’nya has fallen asleep on your awful couch, turning invisible as he came to surprise you! Next thing he knows, he got thick thighs on him, the pressure of being sat on and it changed everything for him. Watch as his eyes dilate when you come down on him, his tail is flickering as you do. Che’nya adores that way he has you on his face, shaking above him while he gives long languid licks over your pussy, he’s such a tease mouth at your entrance, ready to tongue fuck you only to go and suck hard on your clit. “Aww, what’s wrong? Cat, got your tongue?” he’s laughing, as you grind down on him to make him shut up.” Don’t worry, I’ll have you feline good, you’ll be mewling in no time~.”

#chenya twst #twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi x reader #twst ruggie #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #reader insert #smut #fem reader #twst cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt twisted wonderland #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twst chenya #chenya x reader #smut leona kingscholar #mdni

[miller-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

PART ONE: TEXAS RED

Arthur Morgan x Gunslinger!Reader

18+, mdni

Summary: From the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day. Never spoke to folks around him, didn’t have too much to say. No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip, for the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip. (Reader is based on Texas Red, from the song Big Iron)

Warnings: reader is female but is disguised as a young male (use of masc pronouns towards reader for this chapter), guns, violence, duelist behavior. Reader is described to have a masculine outer appearance (for show) and is mentioned to have reddish hair (for the sake of the storyline). A fake name is used but otherwise can be read completely as a reader insert.

Word Count: 6.5k

Howdy y’all ! I’m really excited about this story (arthur is my main comfort man) and this is just a story that I’ve been cooking up since I finished the game. This part (and a lot of the story’s future plot) is HEAVILY influenced by the song Big Iron by Marty Robbins and reader even goes by ‘Texas Red.’

“Men learn fast not to poke fun at me,” you told him, partially as a threat, but followed it up quickly. “I s’pose I’d better compose myself around here.” Arthur laughed, genuinely. He seemed to find you amusing, or maybe he found you to be annoying. Either way, you earned these hearty chuckles to enjoy for yourself.  “You may be quick with a gun, kid… but just know, that pistol on your hip couldn’t save you from me,” his voice was in a lower register when he said it, and you didn’t know whether you should be intimidated or completely and totally enamored. He wasn’t completely serious, unwilling to scare you away for Dutch’s sake. But he did want you to understand where you stood with him, and you did

The light from the outside window is what wakes you first, the brightness pooling over your closed eyelids before they even open. You’re still in Agua Fria, the place you've made a name for yourself. Charlie Brooks, but that's not the one that comes to mind. 

Texas Red. The unkillable. Nothing more than a duelist to many, and even less so to those who don't care for that sort of thing. But to those who dare challenge the big iron on your hip, you are not anything short of a quick handed master. Only eighteen years old, or so they say - it’s what you’ve told them, but like your name, it isn’t true. Whichever way you spell it out, your reputation is the reason people know you; You have the fastest draw on this side of anywhere. 

For someone who's known near and far as the kid who never lost a match, the nickname is a little less than favorable. Texas Red isn't for the blood on your hands, it's for the ginger of your hair. It's factual, not demeaning… but still unfavorable. You do not care much what they call you anymore, just as long as they know what comes with it. Too many men have underestimated your ability, one and nineteen more. 

Here in Agua Fria there's folks that will come from far and wide, just to test your trigger finger. Today is no different. You've spent the night in a hotel above the saloon, so by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, you know there ought to be a man there, ready and willing to die. 

“That's him.” 

You hear from under the breath of the bartender. He served you only last night, one drink of silky whiskey before bed, nothing more. You told him your name, but not the one people know. Word gets around, you suppose. Your pistol has twenty notches on the handle, folks can tell enough from that alone. One of the outlaws that hangs around here does the same thing… except he takes pride in those marks, as opposed to you. You make those marks to remember the weight of your pistol, heavier every time a notch is made.

The man before you is tall and strong, likely a farmer that does heavy work. He has a sly look about him, but you don't feel bothered too much. You think his hands, worn by the sun and weathered by his work - whatever it may be - will not draw fast enough to even graze you. They are too stiff where they hang by his side, probably from pushing a plow, or milling a field. 

He hasn't spoken a word to you yet, but that's what you assume. He's here to challenge me, they always are. No one asks after you otherwise… except for maybe some working women, but that never ends well.

“You're the kid?” He looks you over, a furrowed brow and a smirk brush his features, but it doesn't last. Yes, you think. I'm the kid, and this is my gun.

“Yes sir,” your voice is a little lower, the early morning is stuck in the pitch of it. 

His question was so vague, but having been asked about eight times out of twenty ‘are you the kid?’ makes you a pretty damn good guesser of what your answer ought to be.

He takes another once over after a step forward, and now you can see that he stands about a head taller than you. He's not quite intimidating, but you can admit, the anxiousness of a man initiating a duel is always a thing that prickles your skin, warms your very fingertips. Maybe that's why you shoot so fast. 

“You don't look like a killer,” he looks down, but his nose is somehow still in the air. He wants to prove something, to someone or to himself you can't be sure, but only the most foolish of men dare your gun this way. 

“I'm not one.” 

And he laughs. You don't even think to look up at him, you keep my face forward. I don't have anything to prove, but of course you know you’ll have to.

“You shoot folks, got a name for it,” he settled his hands on his belt. It's a gun belt, sure, but the rounds don't even match the gun at his hip. They look bigger, as for a rifle. This farmer likely shoots ducks. Sitting or flying, that’s not the relevant point. 

He has experience, and that's what clouds his mind. He thinks you’re a sitting duck. 

“I do, but I ain't no killer,” you paused, rounding the man, stepping up to the bar and pointing for a glass of water. This early in the morning, any form of alcohol shouldn't be legal. You reckon it's the very thing that made this gentleman bold and eager enough to try what he's about to. At least you’re pretty darn sure that he's about to, otherwise he’s just an adoring spectator. “I shoot folks as need shootin’, but they always ask for it. I ain't malicious or nothin’.” 

“Maybe you's the one that needs shootin’.”

Atta boy, getting to the point. You have to smile. He looks confused by it and he very well should be… people don’t normally crack a grin when being threatened.

“S’pose you wanna be the one that does it,” You take a drink of the water you’re handed, but it does little to wash away the tickle in your throat, trying to climb its way up in the form of the chuckle. 

“If I gotta be.” 

You’ve never seen this man around town. Being here in this area almost two months, you’ve seen more of the traveling recluses than any of the farmers. Seen more of the local outlaws, too. They never stay long, they cause a little trouble here and there… but never the farmers. They come into town maybe once, twice a month. They harbor most of their own supplies on their land. No need for the town. 

“And you think you'll hit me?” 

“I've never missed.” 

And then that chuckle finally does escape you. 

“I knew twenty men who hadn't, either,” but the other's words were a bit more out of ignorance. They wanted to show off, thought they had nothing to lose. You were just a skinny kid with red hair and a heavy gun that you could barely stand to carry. 

“I like my odds.” 

So you turn to the bartender. He watched this same charade last month. A different man, not quite as tall, but just as confident. He stops wiping down an empty glass, and looks to you with a look of annoyance. What did you do to deserve it? You haven't the slightest clue. When he looks at the challenger with sincerity and condolences, you know what he thinks behind those eyes.

This is a fine young man, he may have a wife and some children. He doesn't know what he's doing, he had a strong drink. He only heard one story, it isn't fair. 

But of course, you can't back out. You’ve never backed out. Never having anything to lose, and like today, no one has ever tried to convince you otherwise. If you die now, you can go out a hero of sorts, the gunslinger of Agua Fria. If you live, then you'll someday die a legend. Texas Red, the unkillable.

You will have to step outside, and you will have to shoot this man, but for the first time, you feel you oughta know his name. You stepped to meet him and offered your hand. It's smaller compared to his. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Robert Sims.” 

He shakes your hand tightly, he wants to show how strong he is… as if that somehow makes him shoot faster.

“Glad to meet ya. I'm-” 

“The infamous Texas Red,” he finished for me, but every time you hear that nickname it somehow gets worse. Why on earth did the good Lord above curse you with something so nasty as ginger hair?

“Infamous? Don't know about that,” you lean back against the bar for another drink of water when your hands drop to your sides. “I'm just a kid. Name's Charlie Brooks.” 

He scoffs, his eyes falling to the floor. Maybe he doesn't wanna do this. He seems to be rolling it over in his head. If he wins he kills you, a scrawny kid with an ugly hat, and not a friend in the world. If he loses, well… he dies. 

But as if foolishness ruled his mind, he settles on his thoughts, and you can see it clear as day when he decides. 

“Are you ready to step outside?” 

And you smile again. He could've been your friend. He seems like a kind enough man, a little arrogant, but a man of honor in himself. He even struck you with a slanted smile of his own, but for no reason other than your reputation alone, he wants to kill you. Always a shame. 

“S'pose so.”

And he doesn't say another word… Ever. 

Thirty paces apart on the dirt road outside, the poor man never even cleared leather, but a bullet rests between his collarbones, and he himself rests on the ground. He’s got a pouch on his hip you noticed earlier, so while everyone around is frozen in place, you carefully go up to his body, stripping the valuables from him before moving on your way. To the winner go the spoils.

You holster your weapon, turn around and face the folks that stopped their journeys to watch. Some had seen the last one, they expected the outcome. Others were a bit surprised. David beat Goliath. The bigger opponent fell. 

You took a walk around the block to settle down, find a nail to notch your pistol yet again. You’ve never forgotten your earlier opponents, but something about this one makes you sadder than the rest. One and Twenty more, and whoever else is stupid enough to have the same idea.

Once you feel at rest you land back in the saloon, but it's not as empty as before, your single friend Robert Sims being the occupant. Now there are three men. There is a tall dark haired man with a mustache and a bowler hat, a darker skinned man beside him against the bar, and a young man that looked all too similar to yourself in complexion and hair color. It was nice to know that you weren’t the only one God would curse that way. 

You don't plan on letting yourself be bothered, so you sit down one stool over, beckoning a whiskey you can shoot to chase the adrenaline. You thought you had calmed down, but sitting here it feels as though you’re in the middle of a footrace, with the speed accelerating instead of decreasing. 

“Charlie Brooks?” The tall man with the mustache was the first to speak, and directly to you. 

These men have guns on their hips, and you hope they are not thinking what the last man thought. You’ve barely calmed down enough from Robert Sims, and your head would hurt having to shoot twice in one day. 

“Yes,” your confusion forced through. 

“I'd like to talk with you. This man here tells me you're quite the gunslinger,” he gestures to the bartender and you give him a glance, seemingly just doing his job minding his business when he's not running his mouth about you. 

“He told ya? Or were you outside?” 

The man had a laugh that seemed comforting almost. It was hearty and full of actual joy. He pat you on the back and you had half a mind to turn away from it for a moment, unsure of why he was so friendly or if you appreciated it yet. It’s been a while since you felt the comforting or friendly touch of someone who didn’t later try and shoot you.

“I did in fact see your show of skill, but I wasn't sure if approaching you after a fiasco like that would end up poorly for me.” 

And so you smile, because his sense of humor is alike yours, and he looks to be unphased by your violent acts of earlier. You technically didn’t break any laws. Didn’t do anything wrong, even by killing a man. He had threatened to shoot your first, if no one claims they saw the duel, you can write it off as self defense… but this man doesn’t seem too deterred. In fact, he looks all too happy having witnessed your properly provoked quick draw.

“I ain't jumpy, if that's what you're worried about.” 

But he had a different point on his mind, so the subject was changed in an instant. 

“Look, son. I'm gonna cut to the chase,” he pointed at your pistol, the newest twenty-one mark shining where it peaked out of your holster. “You have a gift for using that. I could use some talent like yours.” 

And suddenly you’re confused again. Who is this guy? What does he want? 

“I ain't a bounty hunter, sir.” 

“I can very well see that. I'm not looking for a temporary gun, kid. I need someone long term.” 

And suddenly your interest is piqued. The other men haven't said a word, and yet they seem to be a part of this offer, whatever it is. They are fully invested in your answer, on the edge of their seat - metaphorically, since they’ve been standing - while waiting. It’s strange, as if it’s all been plotted.

“Not sure I quite understand,” You slide the empty glass back after taking the second shot of whiskey, but hold your hand over the top, keeping the bartender from refilling a third. 

“If you'd be so kind as to follow me and my friends, I would be happy to explain in further detail,” he steps away from the bar, his hand outstretched to the door. This situation reads danger in every which way, but you don't stray from it. You can’t believe you’re doing it, but you follow along, an open mind. 

Nothing to lose.

-

Your horse was in the stables, an older stallion that was probably bred from war. His coat was full and black, like a starless night sky. Fury, you called him. These other men had put their horses up in the stables as well, but they were quite a bit stranger when it came to interacting with the horse hand. They paid him off so he’d forget any of you had been here. 

These men must be outlaws. Dutch, Charles, and Sean… From the time of their introductions, you were watching them with vigilance. You had started to gather that much from the way people ran inside when they passed, but the other behaviors lead you to believe that they weren’t the typical type. They weren’t just bad men looking for trouble and fun. They had reasoning, and they had qualms about who they spoke to about what. They were careful, if that word can even describe an outlaw. 

You followed them out of town, and down a road a bit. Agua Fria was a bit drier than other parts of Texas, but it had some nice trees here and there, with ponds and hills to break up the dusty roads. When you came to a clearing, a full on campsite set up, you immediately looked around, taking in who you thought would be the most imminent threats. 

“Right over here,” Dutch said, dismounting his horse and leading it to a hitching post. You followed him and the others, and the redhead, Sean, took your horse off your hands. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. 

“This is the camp, ain’t much to look at but we’re all very tight knit, here.” 

You followed behind Dutch, he was the ringleader of all of this, as far as you could tell. He gave the orders, and the others followed. You couldn’t say you didn’t see why. He had all the capabilities of a natural born leader. His presence, his personable way with words, and even his ability to convince a random stranger to follow him. 

“S’cozy,” you said, nodding to each person you passed. He didn’t bother introducing you to them yet, and you figure it’s because he wants to see how well you fit first. No point in getting anyone attached. 

“It is indeed. I’ll have you wait here for just a moment, you can mingle, if you’d like. I’m gonna talk to a few friends of mine,” he told you before ducking into a tent, the flaps falling behind him. 

You huffed a breath, turning to the first face you saw and tipping your hat. 

“Howdy, Ma’am.”

The young woman looked up to you, a sweet smile on her face. She had lovely dark hair and beautiful blue eyes that reflected a clear sky. 

From within the tent, tensions were a bit higher. 

“First Mack and Davey, now this… kid? You can’t keep picking up people like they’re stray dogs, Dutch…” Hosea Matthews, Dutch’s right hand man was the one to speak first. He’d just heard quite a story - which to be fair, Dutch liked telling grand stories - that seemed to be impossible. 

“I know, I know… but you wouldn’t believe it even if you saw it. Hell, even I don’t.” 

“Let me get this straight,” another voice piped up from the corner, standing to make his presence more known. “This eighteen year old kid, who can barely hold up a gun… is the fastest draw you’ve ever seen?” 

“I blinked and the man was dead,” Dutch furthered his point, hearing a low whistle from the youngest man in the tent. They began to peak through the open tent flaps, not letting anyone else see them. 

“Abigail seems to like him.”

“Abigail likes everyone except John these days,” Hosea joked around, sitting himself back down when he’d taken his look at the kid. He was a spry little thing, but looked like a boy still in adolescence.

“Listen,” Dutch began, his hands raised to calm the air. “This kid could mean the difference between life or death in some of our upcoming jobs.”

The younger man looked to Dutch, then to Hosea, and then to the ground, shaking his head. Dutch was like his father, but these fantasies he conjured up sometimes to justify his antics could be wild. 

“He can shoot faster than me?” 

“My boy, I’d let you challenge him yourself if I wasn’t sure he’d drop you where you stand.” Dutch clapped a hand on his shoulder before turning to Hosea. 

“If he’s really as fast as you say, we should keep him. He can’t be of any harm otherwise.”

-

A moment lasted longer than you thought it would, but you’d garnered the attention of not one but two ladies whilst sitting in the shade of the trees. 

Abigail, the heavily pregnant young woman you’d started conversation with, and Tilly, a young lady who seemed to be swooning with every word you said. You didn’t have the heart to say nothing to her, you weren’t even sure you’d be sticking around. 

“And then what happened?” Tilly asked, scooting closer. 

“Well, I guess I shot him. S’how most these stories end, sadly.”

You suddenly felt a bit sorrowful. You’d shot a man down only today and here you’d moved on so quickly. The time of self recovery was getting shorter and shorter. Maybe you ought to stop shooting folks, then you could make some ground on a normal life… but that’s never really been your way, not since you left home. If you stay with this gang, though… the shooting gets worse, and you know that for a fact. 

“But you’re a good shot, probably why Dutch wants ya,” Abigail lifted a brow, nodding towards the tent. You were sure he’d liked you well enough, and you liked this whole tight knit unit well enough. If you shoot enough folk, you reckon you get to stay. 

“Speak of the Devil,” Tilly smiled behind where you were standing, and you took it as a queue to turn around yourself. 

“We sure as hell want him,” Dutch said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “I have some people I want you to meet. This is my partner, Hosea Matthews.”

And the man - Hosea - smiled and waved. He seemed nice, and gentlemanly. He had a kind face, like that of a dedicated father. 

“And this,” Dutch stood aside, revealing another man stood behind him… “Is Arthur Morgan. My enforcer, and right hand man.”

You froze when he lifted his head, hat tipping upward enough to see his face. Your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned his features, falling to the stretch of his body and then roaming back up to the brim of his hat. You weren’t sure if it was from fear or from awe, but the tenseness in your body was thick and unwavering. He had all the toughness of a rugged outlaw, but his eyes were calm, serene. Like pools of oasis water against a dry and scorching desert. A beautiful man by anyone’s standard, but completely unaware of himself. 

Standing before you now, he nodded in greeting, and you had to snap out of the haze that even now surrounded you, clouding your mind and blocking out anything that wasn’t him. 

Sweet Lord above, help me look away… and finally you did, begrudgingly. 

“He’s gonna show you around, give you the rundown of how things are around here,”

“Sounds-” you coughed once, trying to play off your strange behavior as you cleared your throat. “Sounds just fine.”

“Alright then,” Dutch leaned in towards Arthur at the last second, nudging his arm as he did. “Don’t test ‘im before he’s had a chance to settle. I don’t feel like losing two fast guns on the same day.”

You heard the tail end of the conversation, but pretended it passed over your head. You were standing quietly, still halfway in awe of the man. Sandy strands of hair that fell over the corners of his eyes, his strong jawline stubbled in the same lovely color. He let his hat fall over his eyes again, but you were certain if you’d been able to see them again, you’d not be able to look away.

He fell into a slow walk beside you, beginning to lead through the campsite.

“What’s your name, kid?” 

Kid, as if you were actually one… 

“Charlie Brooks, sir,” You replied, holding a firm hand out. This was reflectant of a similar introduction you’d made earlier this morning. Didn’t matter what happened though, you wouldn’t be shooting the man before you. Not even if he begged. 

“Dutch says they call you Red.”

You dropped your pleasant expression, huffing a fast breath to match the new look on your face.

“Texas Red… But I ain’t even from Texas, so,” and it was true. You’d only earned that nickname here. 

“The red part still fits,” Arthur was teasing you. Perhaps this is what Dutch meant by ‘don’t test him.’

You sighed, realizing that you’d found the downside to this ruggedly handsome stranger… “My name is Charlie Brooks.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t get upset, boy… I’m only poking fun.”

You drop the tension in your shoulders… you didn’t like being teased, but perhaps it wasn’t as bad coming from this Arthur character. 

“Men learn fast not to poke fun at me,” you told him, partially as a threat, but followed it up quickly. “I s’pose I’d better compose myself around here.”

Arthur laughed, genuinely. He seemed to find you amusing, or maybe he found you to be annoying. Either way, you earned these hearty chuckles to enjoy for yourself. 

“You may be quick with a gun, kid… but just know, that pistol on your hip couldn’t save you from me,” his voice was in a lower register when he said it, and you didn’t know whether you should be intimidated or completely and totally enamored. He wasn’t completely serious, unwilling to scare you away for Dutch’s sake. But he did want you to understand where you stood with him, and you did. 

You only nodded, and kept walking. 

He had shown you the laundry areas, where the girls nearly strip the boys down just so they have something to do in the daytime. He showed you to Mr. Pearson’s ‘kitchen,’ if you could even call it that. He showed you where the weapons are kept, but not where to refill them. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to yet. You take in every word he says, committing it to memory, not only so you can fit in around here, but also so you can recall the sound of his voice on a whim. 

He shows you down to the sloped rim of the pond, where usually one at the time, members of the camp come to bathe in their spare hours. You wondered how far down the way you would have to bathe, just on the off chance someone might come and see. 

“Bill takes care of the horses, mostly. I’m sure he’ll add yours to his rounds if you ask ‘im,” he mentioned, walking back past the horse rails and troughs. Your horse was standing happily in the sunshine, enjoying the blue skies and grass compared to the dusty and dark stables you always put him up in.

“I’ll remember that,” you say, as if you’ll forget anything else. So far you remember everyone’s name - everyone you passed by, at least - and every individual location of the camp. 

“Miss Grimshaw and the others should have a tent for ya by sundown… if not, just bunk with me until tomorrow,” he offered, hands sat steadily on his gun belt. Your face flushed, but lucky for you, he was much taller and couldn’t see under the brim of your hat when you tilted your head. 

“That’s kind of you,” you nodded in reply, saying nothing more. 

He began to back away, needing to attend to something else, but he stopped short. 

“You’re alright, kid,” he complimented, as best as he could give one, anyway. “See you ‘round.”

And you stood still, watching him walk away with your hands at your sides. 

“I’m in deep shit…”

-

Early to bed, early to rise, yatta yatta yatta. You still hate mornings. The camp wakes at the crack of dawn, and you stir just as some folks are leaving, mounting their horses and setting off for the adventures ahead. You’re fairly certain it’s Dutch, Bill, and that other man Hosea, the one with the kind face.

You did end up taking Arthur up on his offer to bunk for the night. He was kind enough to set up one of the spare cots for you, unwilling to argue about sleeping on the ground and all that. He pegged you for the arguing type and wanted to leave well enough alone. 

He was gone from the tent-like structure by the wagon, away somewhere probably having a cup of that coffee you smelled. They must have had a pot brewing somewhere, because it was the only thing willing you to leave the shaded area you were resting. The sun wasn’t high in the sky, but you could already feel the effects of the heat swirling in around the camp. 

It was strange, going about your morning routine with others present. Washing up your face in one of the water barrels, raking your hair back over your head with your wet fingers to let the hair sit flat before you crushed it down with your hat. You’d been nearly presentable, good enough for the morning, anyway. 

It wasn’t long before you were sitting close to the congregated group, a cup of coffee in your own hands. It wasn’t the best you’ve had, but hey, it helped you keep your eyes open. You didn’t dare interject into the conversation, unknowing of it they would accept it. Not that it mattered, because you liked hearing them interact as is. They were a rowdy bunch, but they had some wit here and there.

After a while, you zoned out during talks of events you hadn’t been to, people you hadn’t met, things you didn’t get to see before coming here. You watched a bunny that leapt across the camp, running into the wilderness ahead only to disappear behind some rocks. You realized by then you were at the end of your coffee cup. You stood up to take it back to Mr. Pearson, but were interrupted by one of the others in the circle. You remember his name is John. 

“How about you, Brooks?” He asked, catching you off guard, for you had absolutely no clue what the conversation was. 

“How about me?” you replied, a furrowed brow as you stopped in your tracks and waited. 

“Are you really as fast as people say?”

You scoffed, a slanted eyebrow to the man when he seemed in disbelief. You don’t blame him, he’s never seen you shoot. 

“Faster.”

“Boy’s got some pride on ‘im. Shouldn’t be too hard to break it down,” the only other redhead in the gang reared his accented voice. “Ay, Arthur?” 

You turned to the man, stoic and quiet, his hat covering most of his face so you couldn’t see what his features were saying. 

“If Dutch says he’s faster than me, I won’t push my luck.”

Except for he wanted to. He really wanted to, and you were curious to see his skill as well. Maybe not against you, because hell… you ain’t never lost before but there’s a first time for everything, and you like it here too much to throw it away. 

“I don’t buy it. That’s just Dutch telling tales like he does,” John stood up and clapped his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Never in my life have I seen someone with Arthur’s shootin’ speed.”

“Never?” 

You knew it was probably not in your best interest to boast your ability on the first day, but shit, it was the only thing you had going for you. You had to make way in this group somehow. 

“Never.” 

“Alright,” you nodded. “I propose a game. Two bullets, our names carved in. We set up a can to shoot and whoever’s bullet gets trapped inside s’the one that got there first.”

Arthur lifted his head, and for the first time this morning, you saw his eyes. Your face instantly got red, but no one seemed to notice, too caught up in the heat of the exchange. 

He nodded once, a slow and decisive nod. He was thinking it over. 

“Sure,” he said, his thick accent coating the word. “Guess I’ll play along.”

And the group dispersed, grabbing everything needed. Arthur took it upon himself to carve the bullets, and strangely, you trusted him not to tamper with yours. He didn’t seem like the type to play dirty. He didn’t look like he needed to be. 

Sean set up the can on a log, a crudely drawn X out of charcoal on the rusty front of it. There were words being exchanged as you both stepped up, opening your guns to drop out all the bullets before Arthur handed yours over. His etching wasn’t too bad, but you dropped the smug look on your face when you saw what he actually put on it. 

“I told you my name’s not Red,” you huffed, taking it anyway and dropping it into the cylinder, giving it a quick spin to line it up. 

“Doesn’t matter, no one’s gonna see it but you,” he teased, loading his own gun and standing beside you, about five yards away from the can. 

“Need me to count?” you joked back, hopefully not in vain. You wouldn’t be pridefully wounded if you lost in all honesty. You’d been waiting for your talent to fail you for a long time now, and without any stakes on the table, you suppose today could be the day. 

Both guns now strapped to your hips, you waited in silence, and so did everyone else. It wasn’t something that needed cheering on, but it was definitely something to be on the edge of your seat for. 

You saw Arthur drop his hand out of the corner of your eye, so you cleared leather as fast as you could in hopes that your shot would land, and it did… or at least, you thought it did. The can went flying and both guns had been fired. 

“Who won?” John yelled over in question to Sean, who went to kneel down by the log, picking up the can. 

“Uh…” He held up the can, showing two bullet holes, before dumping out both bullets from the inside. “Both of em’.” 

And for the first time in any shoot out you’d ever participated in, you were too stunned to speak. You never doubted this man’s abilities as a talented gunslinger, but given you’d never seen him shoot, and knowing your own track record… it was surprising to see. 

“Well,” Arthur turned to you, as the others continued to chat amongst themselves, not sure how to split the bets they had made beforehand. “You beat me.” 

He offered his hand to you to shake, but you shook you head, you didn’t understand. 

“It’s a draw, both bullets hit,” you tried to reason, but he was set on his own explanation. 

“You hit first. Mine went through the top as it was fallin’.”

You shook his hand anyway, but froze in place when he spoke. Could he really tell? Was he that detail oriented when shooting? You’d never known much of your craft, just that you could do it, just that you’d practiced a bunch and got pretty damn good… but you didn’t even think to make that observation. 

“That don’t count,” you tried to absolve him, still feeling as though from what he said alone, he was the better gunslinger. “I’ve never said this before… but I would not duel you, Arthur Morgan. You’ve scared me somethin’ awful with that gun.”

He had a chuckle in his exhale as he let it fall from his lips, a nod and the drop of your handshake. “Guess we both met our match today.”

“I’d say so.”

-

The day was slow. When Dutch and Hosea and Bill returned in the evening, there was some wind of a job coming up, the first one you’d inevitably be invited to. It was discussed quickly and not in great detail, and the heads of the camp still had some ideas churning about it. Hopefully you’d be able to keep up in the heat of the moment, as you’d never done anything like this before. Never robbed folk - alive folk, at least - or taken something as a means to survive. You’ve lived off of bets and fools you shot dead. It was a lousy way to live but it had never gotten as low as stealing or cold blooded murder. 

The thoughts turned over in your head and for some reason you couldn’t seem to lose them, but at the end of the night they were momentarily stalled when Arthur helped you carry the already assembled cot into your new tent. It was simple, just a double sided narrow-pitched tent, no room inside for anything but a cot and a single human. You could just kick your boots under the cot when you slept, that would be the extent of your storage space. At least it had the privacy of the two flaps at the front, current parted like curtains to allow entrance. 

Once everything was set up, Arthur took a step back, but didn’t leave yet. 

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll owe you one,” you promised, trying to be as casual about his genuine help and concern over you the past day. No one had ever shown this much attentiveness to you, and though you know he’s only acting on orders from Dutch, it feels like he really cares. He’s kind and he’s gentle, despite his rugged appearance and reputation. 

“S’no problem,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking from side to side to make sure everyone had either retired for the night or was too occupied to listen in. “I wanted to tell you something.”

You furrowed your brow, crossing your arms. 

He sighed and met your eyes again, debating his words in his head. Out with it already…

“I know you’re a lady,” he tried to speak evenly, but the tail end of his sentence got caught. 

Your eyes widened before he even finished his sentence. You looked around as well before shoving him inside your tent, too small for one person let alone two. 

“You don’t know anything,” you assured him, suddenly self conscious of how he perceived you. What was it? Your voice? The way you walked? Your body? Was anybody else going to notice? 

“I wasn’t pryin’, I swear,” he said, reaching into his satchel, still on his hip after a long day. “Bill left early this morning, I took care of your horse. These fell out of your saddlebag…”

He held out to you the most damning piece of evidence there could possibly be. Long cotton wraps and a sanitary apron, the brand new woolen padding you’d gotten was pressed inside and ready. 

Shit. You didn’t even think twice about hiding the contents of your saddle bag when arriving here. No one had ever been kind enough to care for your horse, so you didn’t worry. 

You looked into his eyes, firm but not judgemental. When you looked at him just a second too long they turned to a silent fear. Like he was a child getting caught stealing sweets. 

“Don’t tell Dutch,” you begged, and he huffed a sigh, unsure of what to do. 

“I can’t lie to im’,” he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. You were new, this wasn’t just about loyalty, it was about hierarchy. You, the new soldier, could not dare ask the second in command to deprive his leader of the truth. 

“I’m not asking you to. Just don’t tell him, yet. I’ll think of a way to let him know…”

You knew it was a stretch, but he was wonderful with the women of the camp, a man of high honor among the ladies. Surely he would help you, just until you were ready to share your secret. 

“We’re different, y’know? If you’ve been hidin’ all this time out there, that’s one thing… but you ain’t gotta do that here.”

“I don’t want them to look at me differently…” you trailed, silently pleading with him. 

He nodded, the look in your eyes nearly breaking his heart. There’s a story within you, but he’ll wait to hear it. For now, he just complies, hearing your voice at it’s softest point, the feminine silkiness flowing through. You only ever spoke to yourself like that anymore.

“Okay,” he placed a warm hand on your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, before maneuvering out of your small tent. “Just until you tell ‘im yourself, ya hear?” 

You nodded in understanding, a thankful and sweet smile dining your features. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“G’night, Red…”

-

tags are open

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x you

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hi hi 🩷🫶🏻 before anything i'd like to say that this blog is my comfort space 🥹 idk how to explain it but the vibes are so cozy and fun, not to mention your incredible writing skills! You're amazing, thank you for sharing your talent with us 💓

I also have a fun lil request lol, i was wondering what your ideas and theories are regarding the type of women Will, Hanni and Duncan are into, doesn't have to be 100% accurate obvi but just curious about your pov

Howdyyyy!! Awww omg thank you so much!! This is soooo sweeeeet 😭❤️🥹 I’m really really glad you feel this way about my blog!! Thanks for being around!! ❤️❤️

Hmmm as for preferences I won’t touch the subject of appearance for the sake of reader insert neutrality! But here are some of my ideas on personality:

Duncan

Either the polar (ha!) opposite of himself or someone similar in temperament. He NEEDS to be put in his place from time to time and he likes a woman who can test him and push him.

But he also needs someone who can understand him and the things he has been through, without the cloud of judgement over his past mistakes or actions. He needs (like all three men, honestly) some softness in his life. Someone who can remind him of why it’s worth living it, despite all terrible things that have happened or may happen. He needs constancy too, bc no one in the past has stayed for him (ooooof its true even if it hurts). He’s very much into physical touch, so someone affectionate for sure. Maybe borderline clingy, even. He’s been so starved for it for so long it’s what he yearns for.

——

Will

First and foremost, someone PATIENT. Will has his quirks and things he’s very particular about, so he needs someone who’s understanding of that. When he becomes withdrawn or is in a bad mood, patience is important for knowing when he needs space and time. Also, because he is a fisher and he will 100% bring you along with him, so it’s pivotal.

Ideally, someone who has similar dry humor as him. Able to keep him in check and ground him when he feels himself becoming unmoored. Someone he can be comfortable enough with to just be in companionable silence. He is also, unsurprisingly, very much touch starved, so affection is more than welcome. Someone tender hearted is his weakness.

——

Hannibal

Some of Hannibal’s favorite qualities are a quick wit and a certain level of cunning. He values intelligence, both street smarts and book smarts. Above all though, he cares most about loyalty, open mindedness, and clear communication (it may seem terribly ironic, but if he lets you get close to him, it’s a requirement).

He needs someone who sees him for who he truly is, and love him regardless. Trust is literally of utmost importance!! But while he loves doting on his partner, he definitely likes to be a lil spoiled in return. Contrary to Duncan, I believe he wouldn’t be very into someone super clingy, but he still likes to get loved on for sure!

——

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #duncan vizla x reader #anonymous #minors dni #hannibal fanfiction #polar fanfiction

[lyneira]

♡ your one and oni big himbo boyfriend ♡

-> headcanons of itto as your boyfriend!

arataki itto x fem!reader

You're a real trooper if you end up dating Itto because he's gonna become your big baby once you two are together. The ironic thing about this is that he'll often call you, "baby". But clearly, between the two of you, you know who the real baby is.

He's gonna be really handsy on you, not necessarily in a sexual way all the time. Whether it's having his hand on top of your head, around your waist, on your thigh, or especially having his hand in yours, he always wants to feel the warmth of your skin on his. It reassures him that you're there with him, for him, and that someone loves him. While he might boast that "everyone loves him" or that "if they don't love him already, they should", but with you, it's different. It's meaningful and most of all, true. And he knows that just as he's always gonna be there for you, so will you always be there for him.

He will also love using your chest as a pillow, no matter what size it is. The warmth and softness of it and hearing the sound of your heartbeat soothes him. Therefore, he'd love being the little spoon when cuddling despite how humongous he is. Just hold him tight and run your fingers through his silver hair as he nuzzles his face into your chest, and he will be the happiest oni in all of Teyvat. I told you he'd be a big baby.

On the other hand, he's gonna be all melodramatic whenever you get upset or angry with him (over something minor). He'll whine and cry to the other Arataki gang members like,

"AKIRA, WHAT DID I DO WHERE DID I GO WRONG?!?! WHY DOES Y/N HATE ME?!?!"

"Well, Boss...you did break her [favorite item] trying to catch that onikabuto..."

"IT HAD TO BE DONE, AKIRA!! SEE?! I STILL WON THE MATCH WITH THAT SPECIAL ONIKABUTO AND EVEN OFFERED TO SHARE MY REWARDS (aka snacks and candy) WITH HER. I DON'T KNOW WHY SHE'S STILL MAD"

"..."

"...I'd recommend saying sorry and getting her a new one...good luck, Boss"

Itto does try to make it up to you. He'll search all over the place to find an item that could replace the one he broke. He won't stop searching because he believes that you'll never forgive him if he doesn't find it. After enough searching and when you finally do forgive him, he'll pounce on you, suffocating you with the biggest hug while crying, "Y/N I'M SORRY!! I LOVE YOU"

Other than that, Itto will be your BIGGEST hype man, even if it's in the most annoying way. Any insecurities or low self-esteem that you have will have to perish when he's around. He's always boosting himself up, so why wouldn't he also boost up his woman? He's going to try to show you off to everyone. Like, he'd go out waving a picture of you to those on the street, saying "Have you seen this girl?" and whether they say yes or no, he'll then say, "Well now you have and your eyes have been blessed. Be grateful!"

Or even when you're fighting against some enemies and Itto is just cheering you on from the sidelines, he'll look to the other Arataki gang members and be like "LOOK AT HER!! LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL GIRLFRIEND!! ISN'T SHE SO BADASS?!" Poor Akira, Genta, and Mamoru have to endure this, "Yes, we know boss..."

You'll have to tell him to calm down, for their sake and your own because sometimes Itto will be putting too much of your business out there. When talking to strangers and you're right next to him, he'll suddenly go, "Anyway, did you know my girlfriend can [insert special activity] and do [insert other activity]? Isn't she amazing?! That's why she's mine, because amazing and amazing go well together", he'll grin.

a/n: tbh itto is so fun to write about! I absolutely love himbos, LOL. Anyway, I'll be writing some nsfw hcs of him as your boyfriend soon!

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

#arataki itto #itto x reader #genshin impact x reader #itto fluff #genshin impact fluff #nene writes~♡ #genshin impact

[muffinsin]

iv been thinking of a request that regards the Dimi daughters with a s/o who just so happens to be a cannibal, but to make things more interesting, s/o wants to tastes them specifically (and not in a hot way-), insert s/o's feral side here ig

I saw this and I knew I immediately had to get started on this XD

Masterlists

Bela

It becomes clear very fast that you’re cannibalistic

It’s not exactly something you’re able to hide around her

Especially when she smells the blood in your breath and spots it below your nails, even after you scrub your hands clean. When she tastes it on your tongue and lips and feels it on your body

She allows you a certain number of maids per week, and normally limits it to prisoners only

Of course, you’re more than allowed to try to hunt for your food, too. Sometimes, she brings you back something of one of hers

“If you want to get your food elsewhere, you’re free to do so”, she claims, after a whined complaint regarding eating only the prisoners

Perhaps, you should have clarified what you were in the mood for

What you always are in the mood for

Perhaps, she should have chosen her words more carefully

Bela wakes up once, her eyes blinking to adjust to the darkness and her brows furrowing at the odd feeling on her skin

When she looks down, she finds her arm in your lap, oil and herbs spread on her skin

What are you doing?

You can only watch, your head lowered, just about to have a lick at her

When you explain it, she is unsure who is more flustered between the two of you

You- attempted to- eat-her. Not to hurt her. You just feel this…urge?

It has her cheeks burn bright pink. She takes it as an odd sort of compliment

She is quite angry, too, however

After a good scrubbing of her arm, you feel like a child scolded as she stands with her arms crossed, scolding and yelling for what feels like hours

Why would you want to eat her?

She doesn’t grant you to bite into her skin, never

She does allow you a taste of her blood, though, if you insist you want it

Drinking your blood herself, Bela doesn’t blame you for this want. Though, just as she would not eat chunks of your skin, you are not to attempt doing it to her

So, at times, and only when she feels particularly generous or in a certain type of mood during your bedroom activities, you’re allowed a taste from her

You’re never too harsh with her, nor too demanding, and never take what you aren’t given

You know, this bliss she gives you would be taken if you were

During these times, she usually allows you to drink from her neck or thighs

Only sometimes are you presented a wound of hers to lick clean

And never, never are you to inflict the wound on her yourself

Cassandra

She’s into it

100%, fully, with her body and soul

It arouses her, and excites her, and is oddly romantic to her

Now, she knows not to let you eat her, for both of your sakes. The idea of it is fun enough to her, though

She warns you, multiple times, she doesn’t taste well. Her blood, perhaps, but not her skin

She is made of flies, after all

Of course, this doesn’t stop you. You’re used to the flesh of the staff, yet you can’t help but fantasize of Cassandra

Her skin is pale and soft, albeit scarred at places

You yearn to taste it, despite her warning

A single bite into her arm once confirmed them to be true, however

She awoke to your gagging and spitting out flies, and while she’d normally be upset at the blood pouring from the wound on her arm, she was laughing too hard to do so

To see you choke and shed tears at the uncomfortable feeling in your throat, caused by many flies buzzing and flying defensively…she relished the moment

She made sure you knew not to try it again, though. Or else there would be severe consequences

After all, she is all too eager to taste you, too

However, the fantasies of tasting her remain

She catches the longing gazes, the flashing eyes when she cuts herself while sharpening her sickle, or the lip trapped between your teeth when she undresses and reveals her body to you

She knows, you are by far not satisfied enough with the bodies she grants you, the maidens she shares with you

She knows fully well, you yearn for her

As such, she loves to tease you

Cassandra loves nothing more than to expose her flesh to you, to make herself bleed and to see your reactions to it

At times, she does grant you a taste

When she tips a glass to your lips, your eyes pressed shut in concentration as you view the droplets of blood smear alongside the rim, then drip inside

You lick it clean, every last drop

Cassandra’s eyes always flash at this. It’s a form of worship to her. A dark, twisted kind of love

Often, she will indulge herself and snatch a taste of you, too

At times, when she feels especially generous, she grants you a taste of her blood directly from the source

You’re allowed to drink her blood only when she permits it, and know not to push it or bite down on her skin again

She loves the feeling of your tongue on her when you lick the blood, and even more so, perhaps, loves the torture she puts you through and the amount of self control it takes not to pierce and part her skin

Honestly, she’s so in love

Daniela

She doesn’t realise you’re cannibalistic until you point it out to her

Being so used to her sisters and mother, she just…fed you human flesh from day one. And you never complained, of course

In fact, you love what she provides for you. It is by far better than any food you could, or would want to, hunt yourself

And she’s always so sweet, so caring with you

She brings you the best parts of a body to share them with you

When you laugh and point out humans aren’t quite known to eat meat, her eyes grow wide

She immediately fears she’s made you seek after weeks of feeding you nothing but the flesh her family likes to eat

How very wrong she is

However, while you reassure her, the food she retrieves you is delicious, you can’t help but think of more…unhinged options

Naturally, this intrigues her

When you ask her one late night, both of you slightly tipsy, to taste her, she doesn’t immediately deny it

She does heal fast, after all…

She won’t deny being curious about it. Her terms are simple, though

If you get a taste of her, it’s only fair she gets one of you

Of course, a smaller one. Both of you, just a little bit, just enough to give one another a taste

Really, it’s unclear who is more feral: you, or Daniela

When your skin is cut and passed to each other, two very different reactions can be observed

Daniela’s hum of pleasure, a giggle, gleeful. You taste marvellous to her, better than your blood, even!

She is, however, fast to press a rag to the wound on your arm

Your reaction is a little…different

She tastes sweet for but a moment, the sweetest meat you have ever tasted

For a moment, you think you might become addicted

Then, this moment passes, as the skin breaks and two flies desperately clap their tiny wings to get back out of your mouth

You gag, your lips parting and tongue sticking out as you watch the small insects reconnect with her skin

She giggles, and with a smile, kisses your pout away

Really, you can’t keep pouting when you’re offered her blood

A little compensation you can’t say no to

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu

[briology]

VERSACE ON THE FLOOR

pairing: model! benimaru x model! black reader genre: smut, fluff content: beni and reader are models under the same company, reader hates beni and beni finds it funny, teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, aftercare, mentions of drinking a/n: sorry for being gone for a while, i was handling college stuff!

model! benimaru whom you hated with a passion. hated the way he gained a lot of attention from others with just breathing. he knew his looks had too much power, but he uses it to get whatever he wants from the company. whether it'd be a day off, an expensive item, or even a break that is longer than his usual time, he gets it. you hated it, hated it so damn much. like, sure you get what you want, but you're different with it

model! benimaru who you had to do a shoot with for versace. versace being one of your favorite brands, you were excited to do this shoot, but not with beni. oh no no NO. but, as the two top models in your agency, it was perfect for you two to be in the shoot together. but for some reason, beni was a lot toleratable than usual for this shoot. even when he was smirking at your annoyance in the beginning, it didn't bother you as much as he used to. you felt, weird inside. maybe it's the air.

model! benimaru who you have grown closer to after that versace shoot. you actually had forgotten that you hated this guy, but turns out you have some things in common. you had also found out that he never even hated you, but more saw how fun it was for him to tease you. you never thought that you would ever be finding yourself building a close bond with beni, especially your history with him. maybe you realizing that this "beef" was one-sided was the ticket to this.

model! benimaru who invited you over to his penthouse for a drink. you accepted not thinking too much of it. it was just drinks right? just wine (hennessy and sake on beni's part of course) between two people who are horny adults who have had a lot of tension between them since they have laid eyes on each other, nothing was going to happen, you were sure of it. (no you weren't)

model! benimaru who you had too many drinks with. having too much wine, hennessy for beni, it was a mess. you both were both in his kitchen, listening to r&b music, while slowly dancing with each other. with boldness, you pulled him closer to your body. you felt like a kitten in heat when he was close to you. beni felt the same way. the way you looked so gorgeous to him, when all you worse was a shorts bra and some versace shorts. the way your hair suited you perfectfully. god, he needed you as much as you needed him

model! benimaru who had you arching your back from the bed because of the way he was pleasuring you with his tongue. with both of yall's clothes on the floor. holding your legs open while they were struggling to be kept open. making vibrations on your clit by humming as a reaction to you pulling on his hair because of how his tongue was treating you. his fingers then came into contact with your entrance, rubbing it, with a mixture of it being soft yet rough. he inserts two of his fingers inside of you while keeping his tongue inside of you. you can feel yourself letting go at that moment. cumming all over his fingers and tongue.

model! benimaru who ran a bath for the two of you afterwards. washing you up with a nice washcloth, getting every part of your body and giving you messages on your shoulders, your back, your neck, making every part that felt sore, feel much better with the work of his hands.

model! benimaru who cuddles you with care in his arms after the bath, while whispering small praises to you as you begin to fall asleep with the thought of how things would've been different if it wasn't for that versace shoot.

© 2023 briology

#benimaru shinmon #benimaru x reader #benimaru x black reader #benimaru shinmon x black reader #benimaru shinmon smut #model benimaru #black reader #fire force #enen no shouboutai #anime #bri's works<3