#giving arthur feminine hips

[who-parties-on-a-tuesday]

First post of the new year!

So I gave into cringe and made a dragon au.

Basically Arthur and Yao are both dragons that can take human form.

I had a whole story planned out for Arthur that I might post about another. Yao doesn't have much yet.

#hetalia #hetalia fanart #hetalia world stars #hws england #hws china #hws hong kong #dragon au #yao is a slinky #arthur is basically a dinosaur #hong kong is tired of his dragon dads fighting #yao is fluffy #arthur was mistaken for a alligator by alfred #sorry i can't draw yao very well #giving arthur feminine hips

[twola]

Two words: messy blowjob.

Teehee, let’s go. 

Also, s/o to @revolversandlace, who mentioned writing a possible 1k+ scene literally describing a blowjob, so obviously, I had to give it a try myself. 😉

Convalescence

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Feelings are realized as you nurse Arthur back to health after his run-in with the O’Driscolls. Actions, however, are a bit limited during his convalescence.

Everything hurts. From the searing pain in his shoulder to the overall ache of his muscles, this definitely ranks as one of the most painful experiences of his life.

Regards sent to Colm O’Driscoll, of course.

He opens his eyes and a shadowed figure slowly comes into focus, a small, feminine frame seated on a stool next to his cot.

It’s you, but your normally tressed hair hangs limply in a ponytail, your eyes bloodshot and puffy, and it was obvious that you’ve been crying as his vision clears up.

“Wh- why are you cryin’ there, sweetheart?” He hoarsely whispers, voice rough from disuse.

You rub at your eyes, but it is mostly in vain as you can’t stem the flow of tears tracking down your cheeks. “When y-you fell off your horse when you came back, I-I thought you were d-dyin’.”  

Your voice cracks on the last word.

Arthur frowns, “Sweet girl, I ain’t worth them tears. Save ‘em for a good man.”

“You - you’re such a fool,” You grit out, teeth clenching, “You - you are a good man. The best of them, Arthur Morgan.”

“C’mon now, darlin’. Stop your lyin’.”

“I’m not lying.” You move to sit on the side of the cot, hovering over him, “Why can’t you see what a good man you are? Why are you so blind to it?”

He remains silent. Silly girl. You haven’t seen what he can do - what he does - to other men. The blood on his hands. You’d be far less likely to be praising him, far less likely to be…

…leaning in closer to him.

A pang sears through Arthur’s chest, sharp as a whip, when he realizes you aren’t pulling away from him.

“You’re by far the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Reckon you haven’t known many men then, little miss.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and in that moment, you lean completely over him and press your lips against his, a move he’s not completely surprised by.

His good arm, unburdened with the wound on his shoulder, winds around your shoulders as you press against his chest gently, still hovering so as not to put too much weight on him.

Arthur allows it all, from the first timid press of your lips on his to the far less timid pressing of your tongue, demanding entry into his mouth. He groans in response as he lets you in, and a mewl works its way up your throat.

It's only then, with you hovering inches above his chest, lips, and tongue working against his own, that he realizes that this is quickly turning into a predicament. Of course, it is, considering the view he’s gotten down the front of your blouse.

Someone, god, hopefully not you, stripped him of his bloody union suit, which probably did need to be burned, but failed to re-dress him. He was nude as the day he was born underneath the blankets, and it became increasingly clear as he felt his blood rushing toward his groin. 

Of all the times to act like a damn teenage boy-

He cannot help the groan that wells up in him as you shift, the curve of your waist at the flare of your hip pressing against his own - pressing against his hardening member.

He internally curses when you slowly pull away. 

But your eyes are lust-blown, a red blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Darl-”

“Let me take care of you.” You say, slowly sitting up and reaching for the edge of the blanket with your small, thin fingers. 

He wants to tell you to stop, that you don’t have to do this, that you don’t have to do anything, that he’s been smitten with you since you rode in half-starved and doe-eyed on the back of Davey’s horse all those months ago. 

But silent he remains as you slowly draw the blanket down his body. Your nose crinkles as your lips turn downwards as inch by inch of his chest is revealed to you - bruises and lash marks and signs of the torture he received at Colm’s hand.

“Oh, Arthur.” You sigh sadly, eyes watering over again.

“ ‘m gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just a little uglier than usual.” He tries to lighten the mood with self-depreciation, but the deepening of your frown tells him that’s not working. You blink the tears collecting away and continue to pull the blanket downward, revealing his navel and the trail of dark, wiry hair leading downwards.

He sucks in a breath as the collecting fabric brushes against his ramrod-hard cock.

Finally, finally, your hand slowly pulls the blanket over his hips, first over the curls at the bottom of his pelvis, to expose his cock, leaking from the tip and laying heavily over his thigh. 

You look back at him, and he’s wide-eyed, biting his lower lip, looking down at you hovering over his hips. You can see his chest expanding with his breathing, speeding up as he stares at you. 

You lean down and Arthur’s good arm swings over his head to block his vision, because if he sees this, he’s sure to make embarrassing noises loud enough for the whole damn camp to hear.

He feels your small hand wrap around his cock, and he bites his lip not to make a sound as you gently pull it upright.

But he is not able to stifle the noise he makes when his cock is enveloped in something wet and warm - his arm flies upward and he cranes his head to watch you take him into your mouth. An embarrassingly needy whine escapes his mouth, but that’s better than the shout he wants to let out as you suck gently at the head, your tongue pressing against the weeping slit of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.”

You let go of the head of his cock with a pop, and he bucks up slightly, as if to follow your warmth as you look up at him.

“You alright? Need me to stop?” You ask, one hand still wrapped around his length.

“Oh, darlin’, please, please don’t ask me that.” His forearm slides across his eyes again as his other hand.

“So you want me to keep goin’?”

“Jesus fuck, of course.” He replies incredulously, flabbergasted that you could doubt this felt amazing.

You smile for a moment before turning back to his length, enveloping him once again in the velvet warmth of your mouth. His head hits the pillow as he loudly sucks in a breath.

You slowly, deliberately, work your way down his length, bobbing up and down, sucking on his skin gently as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

It feels like years you’re doing this, inch by inch of velvety skin warmed by your wet cavern. 

Finally, you gag slightly as your nose touches the chestnut curls at the base of his cock, saliva dripping down from your lips and slowly running down toward his heavy, full testicles, and he has to actively clench the sides of the cot to stop himself from bucking upward. 

“Oh, oh god, woman.” He mutters as you slide back up, fingers once again grasping the base of his length as you suck in a breath, looking up at him with a hint of a smile, your lips and chin shimmering with your spittle. His cock shines against the oil lamp’s yellowed light, absolutely dripping wet from your mouth.

You lean back down again, but instead of taking his length into your mouth, you run your tongue down its side, all the way down where you nuzzle against the globes at the base of his cock, gently sucking one into your mouth. He whines, whines, this gunslinger, this outlaw, this hardened mountain of muscle beneath you. All being torn apart as you suckle on him.

After several moments, you pull back, and he’s panting, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat developing over his clavicles, and the bandages wrapped tightly across his pectorals and shoulder.

Your thumb presses gently on the underside of his cock, and he closes his eyes and lets out a low, long moan. You smile, rubbing at his hip affectionately.

“Christ alive, woman, you’re killin’ me.”

“Ain’t done yet, Arthur.”

And with that, you resume, leaning down and retaking him, sucking harder than you have before, leaving him squirming beneath you. 

You suck, and bob, you squeeze his balls and rub at his thighs. Lord almighty, he must have died at Colm’s hand - this had to be heaven.

The burning in his gut reaches a fever pitch, and he knows he’s not long to last.

He tries to sit up, but can’t with his shoulder bound, and finds that he just has to make enough noise to tell you to get off of him.

“Darl- darlin’, I’m gonna come- you- you need to move-”

His sentence goes unfinished as you look up at him, mouth full of his cock, and slowly, deliberately, slide all the way down, saliva dribbling out of your mouth again as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Arthur’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he audibly swallows before his head hits the pillow once again. You slide up and down, sucking, tongue working around his length, the gentle suction of your mouth causing him to whimper.

He grunts, hands clenched around the wooden sides of the cot, hips moving despite his attempts not to. He is completely at your mercy - each lick and suck of his cock sends him further down that road of unabashed pleasure.

“Sweet- oh god, oh - fuck - I’m -” Arthur cannot finish his sentence before he trails off into a groan, his hips bucking up as you press down, and he shoots his spend down your throat, you pull back, gagging slightly, and as you sit up, Arthur can barely believe his eyes as he watches a dribble of his white, milky spend drip from the corner of your mouth. Christ, it makes him want to come again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, clearing your throat, and pull the blanket up to Arthur’s chest once again, where he just looks at you, stupefied.

You cock an eyebrow at him as you slide up the side of the cot, sitting next to his chest. “You alright? That wasn-” You frown, “God, I hope that wasn’t bad.”

Arthur’s good hand grabs the collar of your shirt and yanks you down, where he presses his mouth to yours desperately, not caring at all that he can taste the bitter tang of himself on your tongue. You draw away after a moment, and Arthur tucks a strand of your hair that escaped its braid behind your ear.

“Woman, you’re the only one takin’ care of me from now on.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead smut #tumblr prompt #rdr #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan rdr2 #voluptatem

[lovearthur]

hiii!! can you please write something with fem!reader who likes to dress up and show off to Arthur? like hey I got that new dress and he's just adoring his pretty woman <\3 anyway english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! xoxo

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 (𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! afab/fem!reader . hyperfem!reader, suggestive(?) . reader being the cutest girl ever . arthur being a sweetheart . not proofread

frills. satin. lace. u adored everything feminine. to roses and bows, arthur knew all about it. u were even the most feminine girl within the gang - no one had no problem with it. if someone's did, they had to go thru arthur.

u bought a new dress, a pink and white one. After saving so so much of ur money, u were finally to spoil urself and it made u all giddy inside. u were in ur own little world - couldn't stop twirling around and giggling, just because u finally rewarded urself with a dress! oh, u couldn't wait to show ur boyfriend once he returned to camp. he was always so busy, in and out of camp at Dutch's beck and call.. it could be exhausting for arthur sometimes but he still kept a happy smile infront of u, always telling u to "dont worry yer pretty little head 'bout it."

and finally, he's back. after doing ur chores of sewing and knitting for so long, u quickly looked up to see ur favourite gunslinger hitching up his horse, checking up on everyone and then... he finally got to u. "arthur!" u quickly got up, walking up to him to wrap ur arms around his neck. "there she is, my sweet girl." he purred. "missed ya, darlin." oh, how his words made ur heart skip a beat! he was such a sweetheart to u that it almost made u lovesick:( "missed ye s'much, arthur- hate it when yer away fer so long." u say softly, he knew how much u missed him. he missed u the same way even if he didnt show it.

with his hand at the small of ur back, u both walk to his tent to give u both some alone time. the rare time u both have with each other before arthur's needed once more. arthur's by his cot, looking at u.. checking u out. "ain't ya jus' pretty as a picture, sweetheart." he said, keeping his gaze locked on u. his words immediately made u giggle like crazy as u moved closer to him, his hands were resting on ur waist. "yer always so sweet t'me." u say with a soft tone, ur eyes like hearts as ur staring at ur lover. "y'know me, can't help m'self..." he mumbled before he leans down, trailing kisses from ur neck to ur collarbone. it wasn't until u felt his growing beard that gave him a reaction "arthur! that tickles." u say with a soft laughing escaping ur pink lips. "'m sorry, darlin'. is that funny t'ya?" he teased, backing away to meet ur gaze. u gave a playful shove to his shoulder, which released a low chuckle from him.

it didn't take too long before u were both on his bed, with ur arms wrapped around his neck and his hands caressing ur hips - u felt like u were on cloud nine. u looked at him with ur doe eyes which had in almost melt into a puddle, u kissed his lips once more.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #divider credit to v6que #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic

[live-laugh-lenney]

What about Chris MD as a girl dad 🤭🤭

All of the boys give such girl dad vibes and I’m so here for it 🩷

the girl-dad trope kills me for so many reasons, i have no idea why or where this love came from... it's just so cute to think about how they're very masculine and love their football and 'boy chat' but a little baby girl that is half them just brings out their inner feminine side... :((((

shoot day was babymd's favourite.

because it meant she got to spend some quality time with her dad, in the fresh air, and she was able to run around the whole stretch of the 3g football pitch whilst chris did take after take for his upcoming new video for his channel with whoever he had for his new idea.

and whoever is guest-appearing on his channel will always include her if she's lingering around and making herself known.

passing the ball to her with gentle kicks and praising her when she kicks the ball back in their direction. pretending to show off their skills but as soon as she gets one touch to the ball, they go down and pretend to have been tackled (which always makes her laugh). picking her up and sitting her on their shoulders in between takes. keeping her happy and entertained which chris is so thankful about.

yn takes the opportunity of a child-free day to go and see the girls so they can have a little pamper session or a coffee and a cake to have a catch-up over the last few weeks so it leaves chris to look after their little on. he dresses her in her little arsenal shirt that has 'babymd' on the back with the last two numbers of the year she was born, her shorts and socks matching with the white colour and the badge embellishment on the material and she has her own tiny pair of astros that (almost) match chris'.

and when they get to the location, before any of his videographers or his helpers came by, he has a little kick around with her and lets her kick balls into the goal as he pretends to save the balls but lets them pass him by and into the back of the net. and it's a sweet moment of 'daddy-daughter' that he takes full advantage of because there'll be days when he couldn't do it and he wanted to enjoy every moment before she grew up.

and when yn finishes up with her time with the girls, she arrives at where he's filming for the last hour of his shoot and babymd is just so happy and excited to see her mummy and barely leaves her side from the moment she walks over.

"hello, poppet," she coos softly and lifts her up onto her hip, "have you had a good day with daddy?"

and she nods and plays with the necklace hanging around yn's neck, the scuffing of arthur's shoes coming over to her making her look in his direction, a smile on her lips.

"she's a proper angel. still not sure how she came from chris' bollocks though," he laughs and yn tuts playfully and covers her little girl's ears at the language that came from his mouth, his eyes widening once he realised what he said and his hand came straight to his mouth, "oh crap."

"you're lucky she hasn't started mirroring people's speech yet," yn says with humour in her voice at how embarrassed the man before her seemed to become, "it's nothing compared to what chris comes out with at home though, it's fine."

"i forget we have to be pg now when she's here," arthur laughs softly and he pinches babymd's cheek as she giggles at him, "pretty sure she's going to grow up and be even better than her dad... although it won't be that difficult."

yn snorts softly and adjusts the little toddler on her hip.

"i'm probably gonna take her for a quick walk around the sainsburys over the road, get some food and that, can you let chris know i'll be back soon?" she asks arthur and he nods softly, "do you guys want or need anything?"

"i think we're all good," he smiles, "thank you though." xx

#chrismd #chrismd fics #chrismd imagines #chrismd blurbs #chrismd headcannons #chris dixon #chris dixon fics #chris dixon imagines #chris dixon headcannons

[allzelemonz]

Finding and Feeling (2.4): A Relapse

Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Language, sex Warnings: Torture, gelding, threats, masturbation, pining, fantasizing, internalized homophobia, toxic behavior, drinking Summary: Bill had several relapses of behaviors he hates. A/N: The cadence bit I included because I have the Yogi Bear is Dead cadence stuck in my head (used to be a cadet). It’s very twisted and the tune felt fitting. Other Chapters

Bill’s been struggling since Six Point Cabin. With the O’Driscoll wandering around on his own, Bill can’t avoid him quite as easily. So he accommodates. He drinks more, takes watch shifts as much as possible, drags Lenny onto more jobs, and since Micah got back he’s been going out with the restless blond whenever he wants to shoot something. It gives Bill a little headspace to try and set himself right, but not nearly enough.

One night, after going out with Micah and hitting several rich looking marks, they settle down to drink. Micah runs off after a few whiskeys, seemingly uninterested in being around a drunken Bill. After a few more whiskeys himself, Bill feels a familiar stirring. A day full of adrenaline and night of drinking makes Bill stumble into the woods and fix himself against a tree. With his forehead resting against the cool bark, Bill grabs at his suspenders. Big hands fumble with buttons until he can tug his pants down and wrap around himself, stroking right away. He’s sensitive, overly so, having not been touched in a long time. His pace is quick, hips moving right away, until his mind wanders. The first thing he imagines is the O’Driscoll under him but he shakes it away, trying to think of a woman instead. He gets as far as a vague feminine shape before he nearly roars from annoyance. It turns him off if anything. But the ache burns at him, so Bill lets himself have this one thought. Just this one.

He tugs at himself, imagining the O’Driscolls face all scrunched up in pleasure, whines slipping from his lips, how he might feel utterly enveloping Bill with his scrawny frame.

Naturally, Bill releases within a minute.

He groans into his thick jacket sleeve. His free hand clenching in on itself enough to leave nail marks and his other stroking through the over sensitivity as Bill tries to think of the boy saying his name out of pleasure rather than pain.

Then it all falls away and Bill remembers reality.

His face burns red as he tucks himself away and rights his suspenders. He takes a few fuming breaths before he stumbles back to camp. In the distance is that little shit of an O’Driscoll, just walking through camp like he isn’t a dirty little tempter. Bill shakes with anger, his mood completely turning until his eyes settle on those tongs. He walks quickly, scooping them up and rushing onto the O’Driscoll. He drops them onto the fire as he grabs the boy by his jacket, throwing him on the ground. He drops his knee onto his chest, pinning the O’Driscoll down as he gasps for breath. When Bill grabs the warmed tongs, the boy squirms for this life and whimpers at the sight.

“Hold still!” Bill taunts, just wanting to make himself distant and mean after his relapse of sickness. “Pearson said he’s short a little meat fer the pie!”

“Stop it!” The boy shouts. “This ain’t funny!”

“Oh, I disagree.” Bill tries to get the tongs between the boy’s legs. “Now why’re you so afraid a’ a pair a’ gledin’ tongs?” Bill laughs a little to himself. “I thought you were the horse whisperer!”

“You ain’t right in the head!”

That one feels like a stab to the chest, but Bill tries to laugh it off as he stands. He can see Arthur a few feet away, watching like a creep. Bill puts on a giggle, letting a bit of the whiskey back into his brain to fight the words that he’s heard a thousand times.

Kieran scrambles away as quickly as he can as Bill laughs and the man speaks halfheartedly. “Oh, alright, go on. It ain’t like you got balls anyways!”

He sets the tongs down, muttering things because he knows Arthur’s listening. Bill makes himself go off into the woods for a while. He tries to get those damn words out but they won’t go away, like a chanting cadence in his head. He can hear it like that, like some twisted marching cadence for soldiers.

You ain’t ri-ight,

no you ain't ri-ight,

ain’t right in the he-ead.

Bill drinks himself to sleep that night. Tears staining his face as he sobs to himself and blames it on the whiskey. Lenny’s camping out on a job, not in the bedroll next to Bill’s to witness the weakness. Hosea’s fast asleep. Bill lets himself feel something for just a night. Just one night, he tells himself.

#burn month #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #slow burn #fanfic #fanfiction #bill williamson #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x bill williamson #bieran

[mpregfrance]

Fic Characterization Post

Howdy y'all! So this is a post describing the traits of the main characters in my different AUs. This includes body/appearance, age, identity, family, and past relationships. I just wanted to clarify these things so my characters can come alive on the page for my readers!

Note: contains brief mentions of abuse, eating disorders, substances, religion and death. François can be called Francis if you prefer anglicized spelling! His middle name is Pierre. My middle name for Arthur is Gordon bc Gordon's gin and it just seems to fit him? idk sorry I know it's a dork ass name

Dancing With A Stranger

Arthur Kirkland:

30 years old. Paralegal recently turned lawyer.

Heteroflexible/Bi cis man, mostly attracted to femininity. Has only been with Amelia before François.

Cat dad to Petunia, a white British longhair. Has twin sons, Al and Matt, 5 yrs old, with Amelia. Came to America from London England for school. Met Amelia in law school, he ideally wanted to get married, she did not, they have been broken up for 2 years. He is the second youngest of 5 brothers and his parents had him quite late in life. His family is fairly upper middle class though not wealthy. He and his folks are on good terms and communicate occasionally. Went to religious school as a lad, now indifferent to religion, sometimes gives François a hard time but is coming around to his faith.

Medium-short true blonde hair, a bit shaggy. A handsome face, though not particularly striking. Gentle eyes and a charming smile. Freckles along his nose. He is 5'9 and average weight, used to be lanky. Is still thin, but leaning towards burly as he ages. Stronger than he looks, but doesn't look weak! Broad shoulders and and chest, a very square frame. Hank Hill Ass Syndrome, like all of my Arthurs. A decent amount of dark blonde hair on most parts of his body. Not a twink not a werewolf but closer to a werewolf! He doesn't really care for maintaining his appearance. Has zero fashion sense, typically wears a sweater (vest) with shirt, tie and khakis, or sometimes a suit for work. Grandpacore icon.

Pretty averse to substances with the exception of a bit of scotch or beer, hates the smell of cigarettes, but smokes 1 (one) of François' when he's stressed.

François Bonnefoy:

29. Writes columns and op-eds for newspapers.

Pansexual but heavily androsexual, genderfluid/bigender, confident in his body and likes to switch things up with his expression.

Practicing Catholic despite a penchant for sinning. Roommates and besties with Anneliese since childhood. Has lived in America for 5 years. Extremely flirtatious and romantic. The only child of doting, supportive parents who live nearby, and had him fairly young. Pierre, a chef, and Paulette, an artist. Happy, although humble childhood in Paris France, very positive relationship with his folks. Various mostly short lived past relationships, including an arrangement with Lovino.

Although I always write François as fairly feminine, this is my most masculine characterization of him. This is also ironic bc Arthur mistook him for a woman at first. He will certainly wear dresses and makeup, though enjoys showing off his hairy chest in button downs with fancy ties and trousers as well. Mostly lazes about in yoga pants and pajamas tho. Shoulder length golden blonde hair, can and does grow a beautiful beard. Sparkling blue eyes that crinkle when he smiles. Sometimes wears glasses due to terrible night vision! A good dusting of dark blonde hair on most parts of his body, will very occasionally shave to pull off an outfit better, but prefers not to. He is also 5'9, lithe and well built (toned, not muscular) slender, though far from underweight. Has long legs and defined shoulders but is very narrow compared to Arthur. Gorgeous forearms when he rolls up his sleeves. Wears lots of cologne or perfume. Sometimes goes all out in an evening gown and thick makeup. Soft skin, tans well in summer. Nice round hips and big, firm ass.

Not quite an alcoholic but loves wine, liquor and cigarettes and the occasional pot brownie. Has a Xanax prescription.

Boys Don't Cry

Arthur Kirkland:

27, bartender/manager.

Bi cis man. Toxic masculinity for days.

Has 6 year old twins Al and Matt, with Amelia who has passed away. They were together for about 7 years or so, meeting when Arthur arrived in America from London and seriously dating/engaged until her untimely death. Best friends with Gilbert for 8 years, and has worked at his bar for just as long. Popular in his recovery community. His family has not been discussed, he comes from a rather rough part of London, probably grew up in poverty and got into trouble a lot as a youngin. Let's say he has 4 brothers (UK bros) and a late father, and a mother who is worried sick about him but has given up. He probably isn't a huge fan of religion, but is respectful nonetheless.

TALL. Taller than canon. 5'11 - 6'. Fit and muscular everywhere and covered in old school/sailor tattoos on chest, arms, hands, etc. Has some hair on his chest/elsewhere on body + hairy legs. Super hairy pits. Choppy blonde hair, pale enough to occasionally dye fun colors like pink and green. Multiple piercings in ears, lips, eyebrows, and nose. Has Crazy Eyes™ but kind of a smug baby face thing going on. His teeth are in terrible shape and he washes with drain cleaner, probably. Mostly wears some combo of jeans and band t-shirts with Doc Martens and different leather jackets, plus leather cuff bracelets sometimes. The kind of guy to hold onto threadbare socks and underwear with holes in them. Likes to paint nails black.

Recovering addict, smokes cigs like a chimney. Sober from hard drugs and alcohol since Amelia's death.

François Bonnefoy:

30, first grade teacher.

Androsexual, mostly femme bigender/genderfluid. Doesn't mind she/her or he/him pronouns, will often refer to him/herself as a woman.

Also very Catholic. Was in a serious relationship with Antonio for many years in his 20s, has now been single for a year after being abandoned. Work friends with Feliciano. His familial relationships are very strained but he still has some contact. Abusive alcoholic father, Jean-Claude, enabler mother, Mathilde. An older brother Philippe and older sister Marianne. They are middle class and live in Paris.

The most feminine of my characterizations. Like I said, mostly lives as a woman but uses either pronoun, and wears a beard on his chin. Big blue doe eyes, long eyelashes and perfect plump lips. Long wavy blonde hair, sometimes wears it up. Has moderate body hair, it doesn't bother him but he will shave on occasion depending how he feels. Needs his drugstore-fancy products to survive. Very petite (5'3 to 5'4) and fairly slim with a curvy hourglass/pear shape, so wide hips and ample bottom, short legs. Delicate but not ultraskinny. Soft and plump in the right places, with velvety skin. He is romantic, but more reserved now after the breakup, and acts/dresses pretty modestly. Likes to wear skirts and dresses, though this is controversial at work and he often gets harassed for it by his boss or coworkers who know he is AMAB.

Enjoys a moderate amount of wine. His dad is a severe alcoholic so he's careful with it. Smokes cigarettes despite worsening his asthma.

Sugar, We're Going Down

Arthur Kirkland:

54 years old, CEO of conglomerate corporation

Heteroflexible cis male I guess? Bicurious, more attracted to femininity.

Father to Al and Matt, 22, and married to Amelia for 24 years. In an unhappy marriage for at least a few years now. Not much is said of his extended family, assuming his parents or at least his father have passed away. Most personally successful of the UK bros and came from old money, generational wealth. Kiku is his assistant, and Ludwig is his driver. Practices Capitalism and worships money.

A striking, serious face, wicked eyes. Will often wear reading glasses. Messy, graying blonde hair, sometimes he'll slick it back. Very average frame, 5'9 or 5'10, strong and somewhat thin but closer to broad than lanky. Freckles on shoulders. He takes meticulous care of himself since being with François, and likes expensive designer products, clothes and watches. Not excessively hairy, has moderate amounts of body hair especially in his middle age, will usually shave his chest for a more professional appearance. Has beefy, hairy Daddy forearms. Wears suits pretty much every day.

Drinks Scotch religiously. Likes cigars, will have a cigarette once in a while, or a cheeky line of coke when partying with his Sugar Baby.

François Bonnefoy:

24, Barista turned Sugar Baby and dog/cat Mama

Androsexual flirt, genderfluid bigender femboy who certainly doesn't mind being referred to femininely

Best friends with Alfred and Matthew, his Sugar Daddy's sons. Met them in college. Friends with their boyfriends, Ivan and Carlos as well. Used to be friends with Gilbert and Antonio, but they didn't approve of him dating an older married man. Not much is said of his family, but his parents live in Paris. They're fairly supportive of his choices and he's gone to see them since being with Arthur. Maybe younger siblings? Probably raised Catholic, but certainly not acting Godly.

Also pretty small, maybe 5'5 or 5'6? Slim bordering on underweight bc he doesn't eat much. Curvy bone structure and tiny waist, somewhat defined chest and shoulders but no muscle. Nice juicy booty and hips. Shoulder length wavy, naturally golden blonde hair, sometimes gets it lightened to platinum or curls it. Currently growing it out longer. Usually keeps some body hair incl his armpits and little chin beard; like other characterizations, will sometimes shave if he needs or wants to. Has a baby face and flawless skin, flashes his puppy dog eyes or bats eyelashes to get what he wants. A very bold dresser, always wearing designer. A fancy lil boy in fitted designer tops, slacks, and loafers, or a dolled up lil girl in tight dressers, Louboutins, and lots of jewelry. Owns probably millions in makeup and skincare.

Pills and wine for dinner ass bitch. Drinks too much and also smokes cigs, loves to get stoned with his friends, snorts coke, over-dependent on prescription sedatives and would probably do anything someone handed to him.

American Boy

Alfred F. Jones:

23, Junior Investment Banking Associate

Pan/bisexual cis metrosexual Zoomer boy

Has a twin brother, Matthew, who is his best bro and text each other 'ily' every day. Friends with Matt's fiance, Carlos, though they sometimes compete for his attention. Probably popular with the ladies in school, but no past relationships (he's a virgin) maaaybe had a fling with Ivan but it didn't go anywhere? His mom, Amelia, died in childbirth. His father, Arthur, raised him and Matt alone and lives fairly close by. Their relationship isn't necessarily bad, they just don't talk much. Middle class upbringing, now has a well paying job. Identifies with Christianity although not super religious, probably some flavor of protestant. He's 1/8th Native American (Wampanoag) on his mom's side.

Golden retriever puppy dog himbo football player all American boy. 6 feet tall, 200 lbs of muscle, biceps and ABS and a firm juicy little man butt. Tans easily and clean shaven above the belt. Twinkling blue eyes, a perfect set of teeth and kissable lips. Sandy blonde hair with a very slight strawberry tint. Takes fairly good care of his hygiene for a guy in his early 20s. Likes mid-luxury brand names like Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger. Usually wearing a bit too much cologne and thinks he's the shit. At work, ties and crisp shirts, at home, sweats and graphic t-shirts.

Hates cigarettes but loves vaping his Juul. Will sometimes have a joint with Carlos and Matt, who are stoners. Likes energy drinks, but François is getting him hooked on lattés.

François Bonnefoy:

38, Former housewife, painter.

Androsexual but appreciates the feminine, non-binary/genderfluid/bigender but isn't a huge fan of labels! Any pronouns, he/him default but she/her is fine too.

Newly divorced from Jean-Jacques, who is 17 years his senior. They were married almost 16 years. Stepmother to Michelle, mid 20s, who is estranged. Not much is said about his family, but he grew up fairly humble in Paris and has roots in the countryside as well. Catholic, but removed from his faith since his ex-husband disagreed with it. Is now rediscovering it. I see him having a large family, but being kind of removed from them since he was married to an obscenely wealthy man for so long.

I haven't decided on a set height for François in this, he is fairly petite especially compared to Alfred. I want to say maybe 5'6? Since the divorce, he's been depressed and not eating, so he's rather skinny and lanky. He has a defined waist and nice curves, wide hips and a shapely bum even though he's lost so much weight. Gentle, tired eyes. Long blonde hair that he often wears up especially if he's painting. Grows a chin beard definitely, sometimes a light beard on his jaw too. Some body hair. Smooth soft skin, especially for his age. Has a brilliant fashion sense, loves designer clothing but isn't too flashy about it. Will often laze about in lingerie or robes. His ex-husband's initials, JJB, are tattooed on/above his left buttock, and he has a cross tattoo on his thigh.

Dislikes drugs and drug culture. Drinks plenty of wine and chainsmokes cigarettes, also needs his coffee and chocolate to function.

#my writing #please don't crucify me for my opinions #these aren't general headcanons they're just specific to my different works!! #ukfr #fruk #usfr #frus #hetalia #francis bonnefoy #aph france #françois #france hetalia #arthur kirkland #fanfic #fanfiction #aph england #alfred f. jones #aph america

[makahimetenshi]

How i meet your mother and the story of how Arya Maxson was concieved - Chapter 17

Its been a while since Nora sleep in Arthurs quarters in the Citadel, sneaking an outsider in his quarters since she retired from the brotherhood would be severely punished even if he is an elder but right now it didn’t matter, and no one should get in the middle of their relationship, she was carrying the next Maxson offspring, he had more than Danse has right now, if he cant knock her up with all the chances he got is because he isn’t able

She was injured, her head hurt, the bandages had a lot of blood on them, and they even told him that she was in bad shape and needed to rest but right now both crave for the touch of the other, they needed to celebrate this, they now have a daughter together and couldn’t be more happy about it.

Nora was sitting on top of his legs, she will be riding today to control herself and manage her mood, if she didn’t feel well she can stop like that, also if something happened during this days he had the medical care close enough, it was a win win for everyone, it was a win win for the brotherhood that the woman who carries the Maxson offspring is close and secured, the more close everyone can put an eye on his baby and her wellbeing.

-Arya Maxson –whisper Arthur in the middle of a kiss making her lips tremble in nice vibrations while they were making out, her hands were disassembling and untying belts, buckles and zippers of his suit, goddammit with this brotherhood mens always using clothes so complicated- How long have you had that name in your head? –his hands were down the skirt, disassembling and adjusting the armor that was on her thighs- it sounds so planned and perfect –right now he wanted to tear off her clothes but he had to be gentle, he was even a little afraid to touch her arm and leg even.

She moaned and kiss him again, getting her tongue inside so deep that robbed him another moan, surprised he pressed her by the thighs against his chest and he could feel her 5 months belly, along with her new big boobs, they were slowly growing size. Nora had wide hips, a beautiful ass and rounded boobs, not stuffed but with a nice shape to the view actually, they were delicate and feminine, soft and pretty and now they were growing and filling and goddamit they were so rounded and big, everytime he see her and reasoned in his head that she was the mother of his children he wanted to grab and play with them no matter the ocattion, seeing her cleavage makes him eager the wait until bed time.

It was a good thing their baby was a girl, maybe he wouldn’t like the name she selected for a boy.

-I liked very much the surprise elder –she said before sucking on his tongue making him moan and everytime he moans in that exact tone makes her know he is ready, that he has grown a boner painful to keep bellow the suit.

Arthur finally found the claps to move the armors of her legs out and tossed them aside the bed, his hands desesperatly going up to the edges of her panties and move down her underwear to her knees, feeling the warm of her core so close to his hand…

-I cant wait for the next ultrasound –he said aroused and drunken in pleasure, grabbing her asscheeks making her jump in her place- I give you that baby –she laughed even tho she didn’t like the implications of his words, but she wouldn’t take him too seriously since he was so pent up, maybe punish him just a bit pressing and cutting the air of the belt on his neck slowly.

-You gave me some work too –she whispers in his lips making a cloud of air come from his mouth, he moaned and squeezed her thighs up to her asscheeks. Nora finally finished with the belts of his shoulders and necks and pull the suit down where she can, if this man was hers and only hers like it was her original idea he would be using more easy clothes that’s for sure.

-Gosh you are so hot right now –he couldn’t understand the uncultured folks who didn’t like a pregnant woman, how cant they? It has the perfect curves in all the necessary places and right now he can hide his face between her breast and it was so squishy and soft to rest. A hand came out from the skirt to start unbuttoning the back of her dress but he really wanted to tear it off from her. He understand that she has a balloon where he had to be careful right now but it was carrying his heir. It was so perfect.

-Arya –said Nora working on the belts of his waist closing her eyes a bit to difuse the pain on her forehead, trying to think in something else- its going to be a very rich girl

-Arya and her brothers and sisters –corrected Arthur moving up the fabric of the dress once he finished with the last button- there’s no way im not making you pregnant again.

A shiver went directly to her crotch and she could feel her own nipples getting hard in excitement.

-She will inherit a lot –Nora was cursing so much in the insides this man for dressing so complicated, she already wanted to be riding his cock so bad! -Your lastname –she started to whisper delicately in his ear, making him tremble in excitement- the Pittsburg forge, two operative vaults, the Tenpenny tower, my last cinema…

He laughed finally moving off the dress and helping her with the buckles and zippers of his own waist- the cinema is yours too? –Danse said she was always ambitious of more.

-The least I can win from Paradise Falls –once the waist of his suit was free Nora step on her knees to move it down along with his underwear, finally realeasing his boner hard as a rock

-What about the minutemen? -she pursed her lips with a bit of discontent, she didn't feel like expanding on that topic now.

-I don’t think they would just follow a lastname or a heritage –meh Arthur wasn’t in the mood to talk about that either.

-And a car too. Looks like I really won the big price –Arthur was dissembling the armor in her upper arms looking hypnotized at her boobs, gosh they looked gorgeous on top of her pregnant belly

-I can't complain either –both laughed and as soon her arms were free she move a hand down between their bodies to grab his cock and guide it to her entrance, as soon both hotness meet Arthur moved his head back, closing his eyes.

-Already so wet –he moaned outloud, Nora loved to hear him in his bliss.

-And always so hard and on point –she laughed enjoying going down on his length.

-How can I not? –his eyes noticed how her legs were bending to not make friction with the mattress or the sheets, it looked uncomfortable but she was the one taking the ride- if you need it we can do doggy or something else okay? –it would be nicer with her head actually

-But between the two of us you are the dog in heat –at hearing that he grunted and relaxed his back on the mattress, one of his hands slap her ass making her scream and smile.

-Ride me, bitch -like a command Nora started jumping on his cock, the view from bellow was magical, her rounded belly and her breast moving along her, it makes feel his head go hot and crazy!

Her hands buried in his hairy chest, fingers traveling in his pecs using them as strings to ride on his hard cock and she couldn’t enjoy it more, despite being injured in the head she moved so brute and harsh, crashing her ass against his tights everytime, moving up and down so good. She wants so much more than her own body can offer, he can see she was in pain in the head a bit but she wouldn’t stop.

He may feel a bit uncomfortable by that, because he didn’t want her in pain but it wasn’t about him, she was the one riding, she was the one pleasuring herself with his body, using him as a toy. The muscles in her legs were the burns were twitched in strange ways he was worried but Nora was ignoring all, she was too compenetrated jumping on his cock.

But the truth is he didn’t want her to stop at all either, she was so wet and hot, his head raised a bit to look were his cock disappeared and the fact that her belly was in the middle covering the view was such a pent up, gosh it looked amazing.

Her legs open more as her arms moved at her back leaving his chest, then she started to rise and push down her hips, crashing louder and wet, head turned back also, eyes closed.

-I want you to cum outside –he was a bit surprised about it but then hear her talk- I want to be coated in your seed

His imagination fly, where to? Her pretty face? Her big boobs? Her belly? Oh Nora was so hot, more than once he imagined her coated in his cum in wet dreams.

-You are tired –he said placing both hands on her knees- let me alright?

She nodded and throw herself in bed. Arthur quickly pick her ankles and moved her legs as he pleased, looking between her legs in all the angles he wished before hooking the hurt leg in his shoulder and she by her own the other on his hips. He find a pillow and slowly raised her head by the neck place it down there, the bleeding on the bandage was becoming a bit bigger than the last time he really put attention to it but once they orgasm he swears he is going to look at it. The hurt arm secured the pillow to not move and that’s when Arthur went inside again.

And both loved it, moaning loud, she loved having him inside and he loved how wet she was for him

He started to thrust, looking down to see her breast and belly pressed between her arms and oh the way it moved with his cock was so good. His pregnant bitch was so pretty.

There was a big heat growing in his chest, her insides were pushing him, squeezing his cock so good, he was close to cum that’s for sure and he knew exactly were he wanted it. The volume of her voice was slowly turning higher, she was close too, and her face of pleasure was driving him nuts.

-Arthur! –she called while he keep thrusting faster and deeper.

-Im sorry –he said ashamed with his face burning red- I cant control it –it was too much, he had fucked her with this body before, in this same week even but after seeing their child together all became too much, he was so excited like he has never been with her- im cumming! –he wanted it so bad, looking at her put him in the edge

Nora gasped and open more her legs but Arthur pick his cock by the base and pulled out, cuming all over her cunt, clit, entrance, lips and legs getting full of hot white strings. She quickly stand in her arms and back and with her other hand started fingering herself, getting all that cum inside again, making that white liquid spurt and move down her entrance between her fingers, spreading it between her clit as she pleased herself more. Arthur saw that and his head burned in fire, quickly capturing her mouth with his lips, devouring her as she keep moaning in his mouth.

Her screams became louder and that put him at the edge again, unable to control himself cuming again, shooting in her belly some more drops of cum, groaning and making their mouths vibrate.

Nora couldn’t go further and when her climax strike her, her head turned back, as the man in a savage impulse bite on her neck since he couldn’t have her lips, the theets and the wet of his mouth felt so good at her hot skin that she scream again, feeling as her orgasm flowed in all her body, making her legs and arms twitch, hands moving out desesperatly because she cant handle anything more there.

When Arthur became aware of the rhythm of her breathing his arms surrounded her shoulders and hug her, a hand slowly posed were the bandage was and were a wet feeling and a metal smell fill his nose he decided it was time to stop, for a bit, relax.

For what he can see she was satisfied for now, blissed with a good orgasm, both were.

If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and comments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive comments of wanting to know what happens next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic

#elder maxson #arthur maxson #sole survivor #makahimefanfic #fallout 4

[mrwilliameames]

Wax poetic about Arthurs nude form for a bit. You both are such romantics!

Waxing poetic about Arthur's nude form is something I'm so good at.

My darling husband is a work of art. Like the Dionysus statue, that's him, just stunning, well shaped curves, toned legs and arms and of course an arse that is just perfection.

His arse is another conversation altogether but it's perfect and round and high and firm. It's an arse sculpted by the gods themselves. His chest is firm but he doesn't have large pecs, but they're firm and lift off him just enough to give him shape. His stomach is flat with the cutest bellybutton, a small little dip that would look cute with a belly ring, but he's already got a nipple ring, which is sexy enough.

His hips fit perfectly in my hands and while still a man's hips, they still have this sexy little feminine little curve to them. He's got good height to him, a bit taller than me with well toned legs, slender ankles and lovely feet.

He's got such a pretty cock too. Good size, he's circumcised which I love because I'm not. I wish he was into me giving him head more because it's just so pretty.

I could seriously talk about Arthur's naked body forever.

#questions

[milkacchan]

More self-indulgent peaky blinders x reader bc I've always struggled with my femininity as a woman, especially when it came to trying on feminine clothes like dresses.

"No. I don't want to." You mutter, pouring the boiling water over coffee grounds.

"Why not? It's just like looking for a suit." Arthur spoke from the table.

"Except it's not." You hum. "The complete opposite, actually."

There was nothing more irritating to you than trying on dresses. Even getting fitted for them, you hated it. Every fucking minute of it.

"Still haven't grown out of that then huh,"

"I don't see why I can't just wear a suit to the damn thing, all of you are." You mumble, ignoring Tommy and taking a sip of your coffee. "I look better in those anyway."

"Is that what this is about?" John sighs, walking in the kitchen. "How many times do we have to tell you? You look beautiful. Always."

"Don't get fucking sappy," you roll your eyes. "I just don't like dresses. Or trying them on." You state, sitting down at the table.

"Nonsense. You love dresses when you feel good in them." Polly cuts in. She sets a plate in front of you.

"Thanks Pol," you nod. "But that's how clothes work, in general. Not dresses."

"But that's what this is. Still the irrational thought you don't look good."

"'Pol," you whine.

"You know, your mother carried you for nine months, gave you that body and face just for you to hate it."

"Pol how many times are you going to use that?" You groan rubbing your face.

"As many times as it takes for it to stick. You don't look bad, at all. I'm not just saying that because I've raised you."

"I look good in suits, yes. Thank you. Why can't I wear one of those?"

"It's too formal of an event, poppet. A suit won't work."

"Pols right," Tommy looks up from his paper. "As much as I'd like to let you wear a suit, it's too formal. We'll have to get you in a dress."

"Tommy.."

"I know, I know, you don't want to. We'll look around some shops, whatever you like We'll get, no questions asked. Whatever color, style- if you feel it looks good on you, we'll get it. And if you really don't see anything you like, we'll get one made, alright?"

You murmured something under your breath.

"What was that?"

"Yes. Fine, yes."

And so it began, within the next hour you were in town with your brothers, dress shopping.

"What about that one?"

"Wouldn't fill it out right." You mutter with hands in your pocket.

"You didn't even look at it poppet,"

"I did, already, over there when Pol was talking about that red one."

Arthur sighed, "Why don't you at least try it on?"

"I suppose so, if it'll make you happy."

"I think Pols got some too," John looks over to you, taking his attention away from the dress he was running his fingers across. "What about this one?"

You turn your attention from Arthur, who was grabbing the one he was eyeing to the one John had pulled. The fabric seemed soft. It was a lovely shade of green, with silver beads that adorned it simply.

"It's nice," you mutter. "Soft," you mumble once you've got your own hands on it.

"Isn't it? I really like the color. I think it'd fit your skin tone."

"Since when did you become so knowledgeable on the things of a woman." You smile.

"Since Esme, she's adamant I learn. I guess she was right that it would help." He hummed, "after all i have to be able to help my baby sister and keep my title as the favorite brother."

"Oh, you think you have that title?" You side eye him and lift dress off the wall.

"Oi," he makes a face, "Who does then?"

You say nothing, just smiling as you take a step back to move to another part of the store.

"Oh come on you have to tell me, come on. Who is it then?"

"Tell you what?"

"Who the favorite is."

"I can't tell you that, power shift and all."

"I've got some dresses dear," Aunt Polly gestures to the ones in her hand. "Let's try these on, okay?"

"I've got one for her too," Arthur holds his up.

"And I picked that one for her to try," John points.

"Mines prettier."

"Oh this is a competition now?"

"Oh Hush. Hand them here." She snaps. "You boys wait out here, we'll come show them once she's in them."

"Yes Pol," the chorus plays.

You make a face but ultimately follow Pol to the back room.

The first one up is a black one with gold beading, all you have to do is look at it before you know you'd not like it.

"No," you immediately turn it down. "I'm sorry aunt Pol, but I really don't like that one."

"Alright," she took a deep breath and set it aside. "Let's try this one then."

The next one was white. It was long, looked like it'd be form fitting to an extent, in the bodice anyway. The skirt was flowy with tassels that made an almost scale pattern. It was pretty, you had to admit.

You stared at it for a few moments before starting on your suit, unbuttoned the shirt (your jacket had been left with Tommy, good lad,) and slipped it off. Followed by your pants and shoes.

You held your arms up and the dress fell down your body.

You hesitantly open the door and walk out to where your brothers are.

"Oh that one's a nice one," John smiles. "Like mine better though."

"'I picked that one out," Tommy grins.

"I mean its nice," you nod, looking at yourself in the big mirror. "But it looks more like a wedding dress Tommy, you trying to see me off already?"

"No," he mumbled, watching you step off the ledge. "Just thought it was pretty "

You wave him off and walk back into the dressing room. The next one is one Pol had picked, she said anyway.

It was a light pink, a color you had to admit you enjoyed, so it was a downer when you looked in the mirror and hated what you saw.

"Let's just try the next one," you mutter

"You don't want to show the boys?"

"No Pol- no I just really want to take it off," you mutter, still scanning your form. 

She stares for a few moments but ultimately nods.

The next is the one Arthur had picked. Red with black beading. Tassels that fell down your arms. It was elegant. You left the room and walked towards the boys.     

"That one's awful nice on you," Pol smiles.

"I have taste, see?" Arthur grins. "Do you like it?"

You stare at yourself in the mirror. "It's...I mean its a nice dress, really."

"But...?" John pushes.

"Not for me. I don't fill it out right. I look like a man."

"If you don't like it, it's no trouble. Try on the next one." Tommy leans back in his chair.

"Sorry Arthur," you mumble.

He just waves it off with a small smile.

Then it's John's choice. The green one, forest silk with the simple sliver beading. It's a longer dress, and honestly you don't mind.

Aunt Pol helps you slip it on. "Oh..." She breathes. You look fantastic. It frames your waist and your hips before falling freely around your legs. It's sleevless, the silk coming up your back in a V to cover your shoulders.

"It's so nice," you whisper, fingers trailing down your sides.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a princess," you hum.

"Go on then, show the boys." Pol all but shoves you through the doors.

"Alright alright," you lift the skirt and hike up the platform.

John was smug. "You like that one don't you?"

"I do," you whisper with a nod, till staring at the dress. "God I love it," you laugh softly.

"Give us a spin," Tommy smiles, moving his hand on a small circle.

And you do. You spin with a stupid grin on your face, looking at your brothers when you've finished. "Does it twirl? Tell me it twirls."

"It twirls," Arthur laughs. "You look beautiful."

"Who's the favorite?"

"Oh hush John,"

"That's the one then?"

"Yes, this is the one." You hummed. "Not to much for you is it?"

"Never," Tommy stands, "go on get dressed, we'll pay and go home."

"Yes Tommy," you step down.

The boys would always take care of you.

#peaky blinders x sister reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby #john shelby x reader #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #aunt polly #polly shelby #polly Shelby x reader

[portergage]

OC Speech Game

(art by @hrgwin thanks to @aviatorfics 💚)

Tagged by @drovenna 💚

Tagging @aviatorfics @pumpkinov @just-another-wasteland-merc @trashkingnyx ✨

GENERAL:

Name: Nate Carter

Nickname: Dickhead (by Gage), Pretty Boy (by Mags), Freckles (by Arthur)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 2 (English and French)

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no (faint texan accent)

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS - head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY:

-Vocabulary:  🟠🟠⚪️⚪️⚪️

-Emotion:  🟠🟠🟠🟠⚪️

-Sentence Structure:  🟠🟠🟠⚪️⚪️

PROFANITY:

-Frequency: 🟠🟠🟠🟠🟠

-Creativity:  🟠🟠🟠🟠⚪️

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY - arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

THIS OR THAT:

straightforward or cryptic/ finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind / masculinity / neutrality / or femininity / formalities or with abrasiveness / praise or equivocation / frankness or lies / excessive or minimal hand gestures / name-calling or magnanimity / friendly or blunt

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower

#my bastard boy #nate carter #dmnws #cw blood

[twola]

Arthur + #62 “How come you always end up under my blanket?” 🥹🥹 maybe also with #124 “is that my shirt?”

The night was joyful, one of the first times since Blackwater had gone down. Sean was back and as annoying he could be at times, there was a certain exuberance that radiates through the camp at his boisterous return.

Dutch’s gramophone warbles into the night, the lanterns turned high, the liquor flowing.

Arthur had just enough that he was getting tired - certainly the escapade with Lenny was fresh on his mind and in his liver. To watch Sean stumble around earlier before he disappeared with Karen somewhere - that would hurt in the morning.

Sometimes he felt like he was getting too old for this.

Horseshoe Overlook, while certainly, blessedly, warmer than the hellscape of Colter, still had a bit of a chill to it, and he had rolled down the canvas of his tent, hoping to trap some warmth in his cot.

Running his hand down his face, he smoothed his beard down and stifled a yawn as he lifted the canvas flap and stepped inside his tent.

Pulling his old hat from his forehead, he tosses it on the table before noticing his cot is occupied.

He snorts softly, amusedly, at the bundle of blankets heaped on top of a curled-up figure, a playful set of eyes peaking out from underneath. Long hair billows out onto his pillow.

“ ‘S cold tonight.” A soft, feminine voice giggles.

Arthur smirks, unwinding his gun belt from his hips. “How come you always end up under my blanket?”

It’s rhetorical, of course. He knows exactly why you’re curled up on his cot. Over the past several months, the smouldering tension between the two of you burst into flame - and while you were still figuring out what your relationship truly was, it certainly didn’t stop you from enjoying the warmth of Arthur’s bed when the two of you could be sneaky enough.

“I can leave if you want me to.” You say, suddenly unsure.

“You know I don’t want you to, darlin’.” Arthur gives a knowing smile as he reaches down and starts to pull his boots off.

Your head peaks out from under the blanket with a satisfied grin.

“Well, c’mon. Told you I’m cold.” You tease, as Arthur chuckles softly and starts to peel back the layers of blanket.

He pauses, and his breath stutters and he starts to uncover skin. Familiar dark fabric doesn’t hide much of your chest, a single button under your breasts is all that’s keeping you from being completely bare from him.

He regains his composure, leaning over to nip at your ear, “Is that my shirt?”

You breathe out the ghost of a laugh. Arthur’s warm, large hands go to that solitary button.

“You want it back?”

The button pops free of its eyelet.

“I would, ma’am. I reckon you look much prettier without it.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #twolafic #miniprompt #prompt request

[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Black Cat and Desert Flower

'Kaldur, what are we doing in Paris? We finished the mission, we should be heading back home.' Said Robin, via mind-link.

'Patience, my friends, I arranged for us to have a day in the city. A vacation, if you will.' Aqualad said to the team.

'Kaldur, I don't know if you noticed but it's night.' Kid Flash was also getting impatient.

'Why are we standing under a bridge with a bunch of locks on it?' Superboy asked. He hated not knowing things.

After busting a minor league drug ring in Versailles they expected to relax in the Bioship until the arrived back in the US, not stand under a bridge.

'Can you at least tell what we need 'patience' for-' Kid Flash whined until he was interrupted by a voice.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my city?" The voice was like steel. In a way it sounded like Batman's. Not in sound, but in its tone of command. It sounded young and feminine.

'Brace your selves.' Said Robin, hands inching towards his tool belt.

'There are 6 of them. Should we attack?' Superboy adds.

'No. These are friends.' Aqualad sounded completely at ease. It would have calmed them if he wasn't always calm and collected.

Before they could refute he walked into the moonlight. They heard the voice take in a sharp breathe. So they recognized them, maybe it will prevent a fight.

"I am no less than a black cat." What? The team had no idea how this conversation took such a turn. What was she saying?

"And I am no more than a desert flower." What was their leader saying? It must have meant something because the voice squealed and a figure clad in red and black polka dots came barreling at him.

'Stand down.' He sound completely unbothered. How could he be so whelmed?

'But she's-' One tried to reason.

'Stand down, she is a friend.' He sounded, breathless? Something was going on, maybe M'gann should do a scan of his mind when they get back.

The force of the girl's impact knocked them both over. They were both smiling, eyes never straying from each others. They got a clear view to analyze the girl. She look developed and fit, but still pretty small. She shouldn't have been able to knock down a door, let alone a military trained Atlantean. Was this a secret Kryptonian?

"You're, you're here," she sounded out of breath, though clearly out of amazement rather than the run. "Oh kwami, it's been to long. Is Roy here too?" How did she know Roy? Did she know all of their civilian I.D.s?

"Sadly no, Speedy is not here. But my team and I are." He said as they stood up. They could see exactly what she was wearing. A red and black skin tight body suit with a open black leather jacket and a hood. The bodysuit was red down to her navel and black the rest of the way. Each of her palms had a black circle with a unknown ideogram in red on them. Her shoes were black army boots with red laces. So she has a theme.

She moved her gaze behind Aqualad to look at the team. They took note of her mask. Her hood covered her forehead and her eyebrows, and she wore a mask connected to her body suit that cover everything nose and down.  Leaving only her eyes exposed.

"Aqualad, who is she?" Artemis asked, hands already itching towards her arrows.

"Team, this is Ladybug. Ladybug, this is the team." He introduced, stepping away to allow them to assess each other.

"It's an honor to meet you all, Aqualad has spoken fondly of all of you. Welcome to Paris." She greeted professionally.

No one returned her greeting. They looked to Aqualad for more context.

He then gestured to Ladybug to speak. "You're probably confused as to who I am. I'm Ladybug, one of the heroes of Paris. We surfaced to reclaim a misused ancient magic artifact."

"Who is we?" Robin asked.

"Well, I realized that one city to one hero wasn't an equal ratio. So I formed a team to take some of the responsibility. Bunnix, Carapace, would you like to introduce yourselves?" A woman with an umbrella jumped from the top of the bridge and a man walked out from the shadow behind Ladybug. Both taller than her. Based on their themes, the man was Carapace and the woman was Bunnix.

"Sure thing, Boss." They said in unison and with exaggerated bows and salutes.

"Good Kwami, don't call me that." She said, pinching her nose.

"Our deepest apologies, Master. We beg your forgiveness." They spoke in unison again and with straight faces, too.

"God damn it, I'm not even fully trained-" She was interrupted by poorly muffled laughter behind her.

"Singe, you've been doing this for 3 years, and you still manage to reveal your presence in almost every situation-" Robin felt like he should interrupt before this escalates.

"Is that an umbrella?" He genuinely wanted to know.

"Are you judging? 'Cause, you shouldn't judge since you spent a year or so running around Gotham in green panties and a pole." Robin blushed in embarrassment. The team looked ready to fight these so called heroes.

"Ryu!" Ladybug reprimanded, looking affronted. Wait, Bunnix didn't say it? Then, who did?

"I'm so sorry about her. They're all really defensive about the umbrella." Okay?

"Who spoke then?" Kid Flash asked, still looking all little miffed about the comment.

"You know, Aqualad, there's enough of us for a spar." She said smirking, and ignoring Kid's question.

"If we're sparring, I want a few minutes with who ever said that stuff about Robin." He said glaring in no particular direction.

"Actually, I was thinking we do a group spar. Aqualad's team versus mine."  She suggested.

No one seemed to be against it.

"Okay then, prepare yourselves-" Aqualad started.

"Wait! I have to call of Pegasus." She brought her hand up to her ear and looked toward a building.

"Woah-woah-woah, hold up, you have a sniper?!" Kid Flash exclaimed, speedily looking around to see them.

"You have to be prepared for anything." She responded after finishing her comm-call.

"Yeah, but still, you have a sniper-"

A turquois portal appeared and a white-haired man in a brown leather bodysuit stepped out of it. His hair was held back in vertical braids gathered in a ponytail. He also wore pitch black sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night.

"Hello." He greeted the teams before walking to stand next to Bunnix and Singe.

"Let's get ready to spar." Aqualad announced, walking not-to-subtlety towards Ladybug. The teams both walked of to strategize.

"You sure your ready to fight me again? It's been a couple months since our last spar." She quipped with pop of her hip and challenging smirk.

"If my memory is correct, you were the one with the losing streak." He smiled back with his patented sass.

"We'll see about that." They shared eye contact and a firm hand shake.

With a quick turn of a heel, "Formation!"

Bonus #1

For more context: Mari and Kaldur were not always this touchy feely. Mari spent a year or so out of Paris to train for Guardian purposes. She would have cataclysm herself before leaving Paris alone. But Tikki and Plagg convinced her that she was unstable with all of the guardian power and she would have to learn to control it. Outside of Paris. So they decided to give out the miraculous and have the new team pass around Tikki and she would take Plagg out of Paris (too many billboards and Plagg wasn't good at emotions).

So she was backpacking America, trying to find someone to help her. Unfortunately someone found her. Namely Aquaman and his partner.  Interrogating her just left them both offended.

But she did learn that she was now fluent in ancient languages, like the guardian language and Atlantean.

("What are you doing here?"

"That's not your problem."

"You sunk Atlantis! Of course it's our concern!"

"You Atlantean's think you're entitled to everything. That's why Plagg sunk your city."

"{In Atlantean} My King, should we take her to Poseidonis-"

"{in Atlantean} Excuse me, but I'm not going anywhere other than out of this cell."

"{In English} How do you-"

They call in the JL for backup and try to interrogate her, until Diana vetoes and pardons her. She offers to take her to Themyscira and train but Arthur vetoes that so now she's going to train with Roy and Kaldur. [Because they are the oldest and I believe that they worked together most pre-canon YJs1.]

{Whispers and Glares}"Atlantean bitch."

{Whispers and Glares} "Guardian scum.")

5 months and numerous fights later, Roy was tired friendTM of their shit and sat them down to make them talk. They spoke of both versions of the Sinking of Atlantis and came to the agreement that Plagg was sorry for taking things too far and that modern Atlanteans could not be blamed for the mistakes of one of their selfish past monarchs. [king whoever tried to use Plagg's miraculous to conquer and terrorize neighboring kingdoms, so in retaliation Plagg cataclysmed the entire country/city]

After getting over that they both realized, 'Hey, he/she's actually pretty cool."

Everyone kept in touch after she went back to Paris and bitched to each other about teammates and leadership and how it's, quote-unquote, 'unfair that it's legal for Mari to drink but not Roy'

I'm not good with timelines so I'm going to say that, Kaldur still has hopes for him and Tula, Mari's not entertaining anything more than friendship (no distractions), and Roy is too focused on teenaged rebellion.

#maribat #kaldinette #kaldur'ahm x marinette #reposted on ao3 and wattpad

[fleckcmscott]

Pre-Show

Summary: It’s a big night for Arthur. Y/N helps him prepare.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 3,387

A/N: Instead of this being a request, this was a scenario I came up with while writing The Find. My brain wouldn’t let go of it. (Though, funnily enough, @sweet-nothings04​ requested something similar a couple days ago!) I hope you guys enjoy!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The mild, local fame Arthur had gotten after being on Live! with Murray Franklin had been a boost to his ego. And, if Y/N was being honest, confounding to her. She'd assumed he'd continue to be an object of ridicule, the way he had been since that terrible video of his first stand-up had become public. (The humiliation and anger that had radiated from him as they'd stood together in Penny's hospital room, and his withdrawal from her afterward, remained fresh in Y/N's mind.) But she had never been so happy to be wrong.

Only a couple of assholes had approached them on the street. Of the small number of people who said hello, most were neutral, simply amused at having run into a person they'd seen on television. A few were kind. As the months rolled on, the resulting increase in clubs letting him sign-up for sets offered opportunities to hone his craft. She was glad for him, delighted to see how those moments bolstered his self-confidence, helped him let out the instinctual elegance that was too often concealed by reservation.

Though she did have slight concerns. Many of his jokes were sweet, especially ones he directed towards her. But most were therapeutic, about matters closest to his heart. They helped him understand the world around him, in his own way. There was a tendency to treat Arthur like a novelty act, whereas he took his comedy seriously. Would that happen when he performed at amateur hour at the Smile Factory tomorrow night?

She didn't bring the possibility up to him. They'd been a pair long enough for him to know what she was pondering. And she never wanted him to think she didn't believe in him. She did, always. Wholeheartedly. Even if she didn’t always get his humor. And she would sit that audience, give him applause, and laugh at every punchline. Provide the attention he craved and support he coveted. Her love for him and his quirky shtick made that a pleasure to do.

Arthur's deep voice, occasionally halting, other times confident, drifted through the ajar bedroom door. She grinned, standing next to the couch while she ironed creases into his maroon trousers. It was routine for him to rehearse his timing in front of the vanity mirror. Try out his facial expressions to make sure he didn't look "too strange."

The first time she'd seen him do it, he'd blushed and turned away from her, lines tight on his face. But the awkwardness had dwindled as she'd explained she had to prepare for her job, too. That even with all her years of experience, she had to practice testifying if she was going to a big hearing. The effort he put into perfecting his routine meant he cared, and she admired his discipline.

When she heard him enter the living room some minutes later, she glanced over her shoulder. "All ready to break a leg tomorrow?"

"Or an ankle." She giggled at his retort and turned to give him his freshly pressed shirt. The green of his eyes glinted, meeting hers. "I can do this. I know how to handle an iron."

She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. He'd gotten better at letting her take care of him, but she felt he did more than his fair share. "You know how to handle a lot of things." She wrapped her arms around his slender waist. "This is the first time you've headlined a show. Focus on your act. Besides." A peck to his chin. "We must be in the honeymoon phase, because I enjoy doing this for you. I loathed ironing my ex's ties."

His palm went to the small of her back, lips on the shell of her ear. "Don't honeymoons last a week?"

God, he smelled good. He hadn't smoked since getting out of the shower. She nuzzled the crook of his neck for more of his masculine, spicy scent. "It's been a year and a half..." Her fingers sneaked under the hem of his gray thermal shirt. The warmth of his skin went straight to her center. "And you still drive me crazy."

A muffled laugh as he stopped her caress of his belly. "Sorry, I can't cure you yet." Then he patted her bottom and headed towards his desk. "Something just came to me. If I figure it out, you'll hear it tomorrow."

~~~~~

The dressing room was quite small, maybe eight by eight feet. But Arthur didn't mind. It had everything he needed. Incandescent light from the corner floor lamp made the wall's brown paneling cozy instead of cheap. The metal table was sturdy, the mirror on it sufficient to make sure his hair was in place. If the worn, wooden chair had had arms, it would have been more comfortable. But he wasn't there to lounge, anyway. He was there to work.

Pogo's was still his favorite club to perform at. The people there knew him, were aware of his condition. Not having to constantly explain it was a relief. They seemed to like him better, too, now that he ordered more than tap water. True, he hadn't been able to get paying gigs (though he had been allowed to split the covers on a Tuesday or Thursday night now and then). If he kept refining his material, however, he was certain he'd get there.

Skepticism had been his first response to the call from the Smile Factory. Having not slept well for nearly a week, he'd suspected it was either his imaginings or an elaborate prank at his expense. He'd waved Y/N over and they'd listened to the phone together. Yes, she confirmed. They really had gotten his contact information from Pogo's. A manager had gone to open-mic night and recognized him from Murray Franklin. An amateur block was a couple weeks away, and they wanted him to open it. They liked his oddball factor. They'd even stick his name on the chalkboard sign on the sidewalk.

Arthur had accepted the invitation quickly. It had taken a few seconds for him to put the phone in its cradle. Then he laughed in excitement and held Y/N so tightly he nearly spun her around the kitchen. She'd been happy. But her need to protect him was clear in her posture. He'd tried to put a stop to that quickly. "I want this. People are noticing me. I can't wait for my big break forever."

"You're right," she'd said, nodding. He'd run the back of his fingers over her cheek, her pretty gaze glittering at him. "I can't wait to hear whatever you come up with."

Her words echoed as he read his notebook. Opening a show was new for him. He'd picked out what he thought were his best jokes. A mix of ones which had gotten rare guffaws from audiences, and ones Y/N said she loved. There were new quips, too. He'd done everything he could think of to prepare. But stage fright roamed as deep as his bones.

Nervousness happened prior to every performance. Arthur had habits to deal with it. He'd scribble in his journal, draw winding circles over and over, sometimes until his pen gave out. He'd worry its pages while re-reading his material. (His memorization had gotten better, but he still needed the book for support.) The breathing exercises, in through the nose, holding, then out through the mouth, relieved some of his laughter and his anxiety. Visualizing success was supposed to help. So, as he sat waiting, smoking and sipping seltzer, he attempted to see himself with his arms out and the crowd cheering.

The knock at the door gave him a slight startle, broke him out of his fantasy. He checked the wall clock. He was scheduled to go on in twenty minutes. The emcee likely wanted to check-in and ensure Arthur would be ready on time, let him know how packed the place was. Better to prevent any hitches. "Come in."

Not even his anxiousness could stop his toothy smile upon seeing Y/N enter the room. She didn't usually visit him backstage, not wanting to interrupt him. But he was happy she'd chosen to tonight. "Hey," he said, turning in his chair. "I tried to pick a good table for you." He appreciated her feminine silhouette, the contours of her breasts accentuated by her collared, lilac sweater. Curves shapely in the A-line, pleated skirt she wore, ending just below her knees. Her black kitten heels. She must have come straight from work.

After a pause she stepped forward. "Patricia's guarding our drinks." He averted his eyes, made a soft sound, and studied the back of her hand as he grasped it. She'd brought her friend to his sets once or twice. The first time he’d spotted them, he'd frozen for a split second. Would her faith in him, enough to invite someone along, always be staggering? It was one of the many kindnesses that confirmed how important he was to her, that filled him with gladness.

She kissed the spot between his brows. "I had to tell the emcee I was Mrs. Fleck before he'd say where their big star was."

Outside of his flights of fancy, he'd never truly thought of himself as a “big star.” Or a “big deal.” Or a big “stand-up.” But he’d hoped for all three, aspired to fulfill his purpose in life. To make people laugh, even on days he himself couldn't. And if Y/N said it, it must be true. At least tonight.

Yet, just when the corner of his lips quirked, his back tightened against unexpected pressure forming in his torso. This was an important night. Whoever walked past the club's sign could see Arthur Fleck would be performing. Sure, he was getting more at ease in the spotlight, cackling only sporadically instead of every time he got started. But he knew there was a chance he'd screw up. Maybe he'd never get to do another set. Maybe he wouldn't even be permitted to come in and make notes. Maybe they'd decide he wasn't funny.

He winced at the negative stream of thought. That wouldn't do any good, especially not now - he was about to make a debut. Scoffing, he took a drag off his cigarette, stamped it out in the ashtray on the metal table, and rested his cheek on the heel of his palm.

Y/N's gentle touch drifted to his shoulders and his eyelids shut. He let her guide him to rest against the back of the chair. "Let me unwind you," she purred. The tips of her nimble fingers kneaded him. The circular motions in the notches above his collarbones ached at first, but started to tingle as he felt his muscles loosen. "Did you figure out that new joke last night?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "I changed my opening." The press of her thumbs to either side of his spine released a knot he hadn't been aware of and he groaned. "'Hello. It's good to be here. Thank you for the invitation.'" His gaze caught hers in the mirror. Combined with her massage, her prettiness made it hard to recall what he'd written. "'When I was younger, I never wanted to go running. I was afraid I'd run out of money.'"

Shivers went through him at the glide of her hands on the nape of his neck. "That's a good start." She moved to stand in front of him and his legs fell open. "You're going to be great. But-" she bent to fasten their mouths together. "You still seem to have some jitters." Her palms smoothed down his chest and he twitched, huffing as she knelt before him. "I think I can help."

It took a moment for him to process what she was doing. He gulped, watching her crumple the bottom of his vest and untuck his shirt. As her fingertips went to his fly, he grabbed her wrist, stiffening and snorting awkwardly. "Y/N." He tried to straighten but was halted by damp kisses to his stomach. "They're going to come get me any minute. I-"

"This won't take long." Mischief twinkled in her eyes. "And I locked the door."

This was entirely inappropriate. He should be telling her to get off the floor. To stop groping at him. To save it for their bed, their sofa, wherever. They were in public; this was something private. Her volume would definitely give them away. But the slight pressure of her unzipping his pants and his growing erection made him squint and roll his pelvis forward. In seconds he was lifting his hips to help her lower his trousers and briefs to his calves.

Her look was eager as she gripped his hard-on, her pink tongue peeking out as she smiled at him. The first lick along his length, the first sweep over the dark red tip of his shaft drove him to clutch his seat. The warm, wet contact caused his breath to shudder. Her lips enclosed him wickedly, and he had to stifle a moan at the sight of her working him. Of her taking him in almost entirely. At the determined expression she had while she sought to bring him off.

Mouth falling open, he tilted his head back, the pace of his thrusts increasing. She was alternating between enthusiastic laving and ardent sucks on the head. It was a struggle to control himself, and he bucked up, digging his fingers into her scalp. She whined around him, gripped his thigh, ran her nails through the hair on it the way she knew sent electricity through him. The tightening of his abdomen increased with her every stroke. He was so close...

Then a pounding at the door. "Ten minute warning!"

"Shit," Arthur gasped. He grasped her arm to pull her up. She started to fall into him but caught herself on his shoulders and straddled his lap. Absorbed with the urgency to be inside her, he hurriedly lifted her skirt to pull her panties away. What he discovered caused him to blink at her in surprise instead. "Where's your underwear?"

With a grin, she steadied herself and reached to press him to her slick folds. "In my bra," she breathed, sinking onto him. When her hips were flush with his, his groan matched her whimper. "I knew they'd just be a nuisance." She raked her hands through his locks and kissed him, hard. "I've been horny all day." She ground herself on his public bone and inhaled sharply.

The embrace he returned was fierce, fingers splayed on her back. She adjusted the angle of her body, allowed him to enter her more deeply, until he was completely embedded. The hot, tight slide of her walls went straight to his brain. His eyes darted from where they were joined to her face.

Her brows were drawn together, cheeks pink, lips parted as her undulations quickened. The beauty she held when she lost herself like this could rival that on the cover of any check-out magazine. Grunting, he braced his feet on the floor for leverage and bucked up into her. As he brushed his thumb against her swollen clit, she let out a short wail. He squeezed her thigh, chuckling. "Shh..."

"Sorry," she whispered. She smiled, the cadence of her ruts quickening. "You just-" Another short moan. "You feel amazing."

He nuzzled at her temple. "Y/N..." Her mouth opened against his and his tongue plunged into it. There was a hint of the cocktail she must have ordered before visiting, as well as his own musk. Normally, he didn't find the latter pleasant. But he found her so seductive, riding him like she was, he couldn't bring himself to care.

The rising pitch of her whimpers betrayed how close she was to going over the edge. Faster and faster, he skimmed her sensitive nub, her limbs rigged and trembling. As her pulses began to clutch his cock, he angled their kiss to swallow her strangled cry. She clung to him, holding herself upright, fisting his waistcoat and shuddering.

Somehow, she kept moving.

He was trying to catch his breath, to concentrate on keeping quiet, knowing there were people just outside the door. But the delicious friction was overwhelming, the clench of her threatening to undo him immediately. She was egging him on, her voice husky in his ear and pleading, "Come on, Arthur." He pressed his lips to her neck to conceal his cries, pleasure scorching through him as he surged into her one last time. Her thrusts ceased only when he cupped the swell of her ass, locking her in place as he poured himself inside her.

Their coupling had left him a little muddleheaded, but he knew he didn't a lot of time to recover. His gaze raised to find her glowing, and he felt himself fall in love with her again. Her kiss was swift as she disentangled herself and shakily stood. There were tissues on the table - she wiped herself off with one and handed him another. With a giggle, she took a third and dabbed at the sheen of sweat on his brow.

Her examination of her skirt prompted him to go over his trousers. He was relieved nothing had gotten on them. Once she'd straightened his collar, combed his loose curls back behind his ears, she got out her simple pair of cotton panties and slipped them on. "I'll see you after the show," she whispered, pecking him sweetly.

He watched her retreating form in the mirror until she shut the door firmly behind her. Standing to tuck his shirt in, he laughed softly. They'd really ruined her ironing job. But, he considered as he smoothed the bottom of his vest, it had been worth it. Being with her was always worth it. With a happy sigh, he grabbed his journal, steeled himself with a couple deep breaths, and repeated his opening to himself one last time before leaving the room.

~~~~~

Y/N patted her face with the damp paper towel in the restroom. Her cheeks were unbearably warm, her hair a mess. Carefully, she sniffed at her sweater. Good. It smelled like perfume, not sex. How did Arthur, who had been remarkably timid when they'd first met, become the one person who could inspire her to be so brazen? Whatever the answer, she loved it. Once she freshened up, was satisfied no one would be able to tell what had transpired, she headed back to her seat.

The club was nice, a bit more modern than Pogo's. While the lighting was low, the color scheme was a mix of black, grey, and silver. Arthur's maroon suit would be a pop of color against the painted brick wall at the back of the stage. The place was smaller overall, the space for the audience about two-thirds of what Arthur was used to. It was fairly crowded, though, and the groups that were there seemed to be having a nice time.

Patricia's eyes held suspicion when Y/N finally sat down at the black table for two at the back. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I was just wishing Arthur good luck." Y/N sipped at her Tequila Sunrise nonchalantly. It was the drink she always ordered at his shows. Her legs crossed under the table and she swung her foot back and forth.

"You were gone almost twenty minutes." Patricia nudged her arm. "How much luck did he need?"

"An abundance." Her friend's smirk was impossible to miss, even as Y/N focused on her cocktail glass. Patricia was onto her. Of course. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ditch you," she said. "I'll cover your tab." Patricia’s response was to grab the drink menu.

When the lights dimmed, Y/N straightened with anticipation. Arthur came out, notebook in hand, and gave a little wave. Standing in front of the mic, he surveyed the crowd, as always, and nodded at Y/N when he spotted her. She admired his wrinkled outfit, his mostly slicked back hair, the lingering blush on his sharp cheekbones. Everyone else in this room probably assumed his color was due to nerves. But she knew what it was a remnant of. Savoring the secret held between them, she pressed her legs together and smiled.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck smut #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x OC} Chapter 12

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Mentions on injury and assault  ..... Chapter 12

I woke to blinding light. Disorientated and panic building as my mind is slow to catch up with where I could be right now. I’m still in the cabin. I can hear the men outside talking amongst themselves, unaware that I’m awake again. I push myself up noticing my hands and legs are free, ignoring the overall ache and searing pain running down my chest. I need to get out. This is my chance. If I could -

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” A feminine voice calls out beside me, gently placing their hand on my shoulder. I look over, glad that my eyes are starting to focus to see Tilly, in her beloved yellow dress. Please don’t be a dream.

“Tilly?” I squeak, my voice sounding harsher than it ever has.

“You’re safe. Here,” She passes over a flask of water. The liquid soothing my throat and easing the pounding in my head. Drinking the whole thing before passing it back, murmuring my thanks.

“I’ll go tell Arthur and Miss Grimshaw that you’re awake.” She says before leaving the tent, the covers over the entrance letting in more daylight, causing the back of my eyes to sting slightly before they closed behind her. I’m not even in my tent, not in my bedroll. I’m in Arthurs tent. Once again waking up here after passing out. I really need to make sure that doesn’t become a habit of mine. Trying to think, all I can remember was being carried out of that cabin, but I can’t even remember reaching the door. I didn't even get to see the aftermath of Johns and Arthurs handiwork. Those mens bodies spewed across the grass. Shame.

I can’t help but scoff at that thought. If my mother could hear my thoughts on how I wished to see the corpses of the men that harmed me she would turn in her grave for sure. But my brothers would be proud.

The tent flaps opened again, the sting more bearable, as Miss Grimshaw and Arthur made their way in, the former holding a small medicine bottle and some whiskey.

“How are you feeling dear?” Miss Grimshaw asks in a soothing tone I'd only heard before when I first arrived here. A serious case of Déjà vu happening.

“Like shit. I’m guessing I look it too.” I hum out a quiet laugh.

“Got you a tonic to fight any infection. And some whiskey for the pain,” She said as she placed the two bottles on the crate next to the cot. “I’ll get Pearson to whip something up for you. Then I’ll be back later to change your dressings.” I called out my thanks to her as she left, leaving just the two of us. Arthur pulled up a chair to sit beside me, picking up the whiskey as he did.

“Than-”

“I’m s-”

We both spoke at the same time, causing us to huff out a laugh. He gestured for me to go first.

“Thank you for coming for me,” I said, he looked down to the floor, his hat covering most of his face from view.

“Belle, m’ sorry we didn’t get there earlier. Me, John and Charles tried to-”

“You got there just in time. Before they…” I couldn’t even finish. But I didn't have to, the look on his face told me he knew. He saw the state I was in, the other guys’ intentions were very obvious with his pants halfway down. Thankful now that I wasn’t that far exposed but in the process of stabbing the bastard it was the last thing on my mind. My hand went down my chest as I slowly tried to sit up, feeling the layers of cloth that wrapped around my shoulder and waist then across my back through the clothing, which I also just realised are not mine. Arthur stood to help me sit, leaning me against the crates behind me. Sitting back down and handing me the now opened bottle of whiskey, drinking as he continued.

“Miss Grimshaw stitched ya up. Said it would probably scar.” I nodded and took a drink, feeling it burn as it passed down my throat. I opened my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the tent opening being pulled back, Dutch now making his way in, his eyes on me.

“Did you talk?” No hello, no how are you feeling...just did I talk? Talk about what exactly?

“Dutch, she's just come round-” Dutch held his hand up to halt Arthur, his eyes still trained on me.

“I need to know. Did. You. Talk?”

“Talk about what?”

“Did you tell them where we are?”

“They didn’t ask anything about you.” I looked between the two men, completely confused as to what he as asking.

“Really?”

“Dutch-”

“I told you. They never mentioned you or camp or anyone here. I don’t even know who those men were.”

“The safety of this gang depends on if you gave away any information to those men. I surely hope you are not lying to me, Mrs Hawthorne.” He spoke slowly and low as if I were a disobedient child that needed to understand every word he said. A quiet threat heard loud and clear.

“I didn’t say a word. They only cared about me. If they are a threat to you all, they never made it known.” I replied back in the same slow tone he gave to me, making sure he understood every word I said. I’ve been here for weeks, over 2 months, making myself at home and seeing the others here as a family, my new family. And he thinks I would sabotage the one thing that makes me feel safe? Sure, torture is a good way of getting people to speak, but Dutch doesn’t seem to realise id rather die than be alone, or back with him.

With that another person emerges from the outside, Hosea, he must have heard the raised voices. I was on the verge of tears knowing Dutch probably doesn’t believe me, in a way I understand the concern, but I was in pain and the constant dull ache in my head was now throbbing. Hosea took one look at us all and motioned Dutch out of the tent, telling him to let me heal and to ask questions later. Dutch left without another word, practically stormed out. Hosea was about to speak but I cut in. “I promise I never said anything, I don’t even think they knew I’m with you all.” Hosea put his hand up to me to stop. Before Hosea could speak a word, Arthur sat forwards, taking my hand in his, stilling my clenching fist in the hopes I would relax.

“I believe you, Bella. Charles and me saw a missing poster of you in Rhodes station. $500 reward. Those guys that took you, they were some of the O’Driscolls. We have a history with them, all bad business.”

“Did the poster mention being able to do whatever they wanted with me but to leave my face untouched?”

“No…”

“Then...I don’t think it was the poster that led them to me. Frank asked them himself.” Arthur and Hosea shared a look of disbelief as I cried. Knocking back more whiskey to numb as much of the pain as possible. The realisation of what happened hitting me like a damn train. Hosea promised he would talk to Dutch, try and calm him down, and that if I needed anything to not hesitate to ask.

Arthur stayed with me till nightfall. Answering whatever questions I had about this rival gang and the very colourful history they have with them, especially the leader, Colm. We talked about anything else that didn't involve the O’Driscolls or what had happened the day before after that. I asked about the photographs he had pinned to the side of the wagon and the two in frames propped up. He spoke fondly about his mother, Beatrice, who passed when he was only a boy. And his dog, Cooper. He even admitted he would bathe with him sometimes. I couldn’t stop laughing, causing him to flush with embarrassment. I assured him it was sweet. He didn’t seem to have many kind words when it came to his father, Lyle. Saying he was a no-good man that didn’t die soon enough. When speaking about Mary, a beautiful woman from what I could see from the photograph, I couldn’t help but notice him hesitate when speaking about her. But I could sense the fondness he still felt for her, a young love like that always holds a special place in your heart. I felt a tang of jealousy. Not because of her, but because I didn't get the chance to feel love like they once did. To have someone you love, love you back just the same despite any differences. It was a shame it didn’t work out for them, some of those differences becoming the wedge that drove them apart. He only left me when Miss Grimshaw came along to change my dressings, to get us both some supper and another bottle of whiskey after we polished off the last one together.

The alcohol did help with the ache, replacing it with a slight buzz but not without slight weariness, but I knew drinking anymore would be asking my headache not to leave. The sun was far beyond the horizon now, the moon firmly replacing it. Now slouched on the cot and Arthur splayed out on the chair with one foot perched on the cot beside my hip. A yawn made my tiredness become more apparent, soon I'll be fighting to keep my eyes open. After a few moments of silence, listening to the nocturnal birds fly overhead, realising everyone else must have gone to sleep, Arthur stood, motioning to the tonic that I had neglected in favour of the whiskey, telling me to drink up before I fell asleep.

“I can go to my tent. Don’t want to hog your bed again.” I said, another yawn making its way out of me.

“Nah it’s alright. Not gunna kick an injured lady out've a more comfy bed.” he looked down at me, his mouth turning up into a small smile.

“Where will you sleep?”

“I got my bedroll out there, I’ll sleep where I drop.”

“I'll feel bad if you have to sleep out there when I’m in here,” He just looked at me, expecting a fight to stop me from sleeping somewhere a little less comfortable no doubt. “Might as well sleep here.” His eyebrows raised at that and it took me a moment to realise what he must have thought I was suggesting. “Oh, no, I mean you might as well bring your bedroll in here. At least then you will have a cover over your head.”

His face relaxed at my explanation, giving off a half-smirk and looking back down at the ground, stroking the back of this neck that I noticed he does when nervous or uncomfortable. Lord, it is cute when he does that. Finally, he nodded, giving in with a quiet, sure.

He returned within seconds with his bedroll, which must have been nearby, and laid it out on the floor. Kicking off his boots and draping a worn blanket over him. I did the same, both of us now staring up at the canvas with our hands resting behind our heads. Sleep slowly taking over me.

“Goodnight, Arthur. Thank you again.” I spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Bella” he replied, just as soft as i.

-

It was barely daybreak when I woke up. The birds singing their morning song all around, a call to breakfast and a new day with new possibilities. My head still had a lingering pulse, not sure if it was from last night whiskey or finally getting over the multiple blows I received. Either way, coffee could fix it.

I took my time getting on my feet, my body still aching lightly and to not wake Arthur, who was curled up on the floor facing me, his arm propping up his head as a pillow. I made my way out of the tent to be greeted by stunning orange hues illuminating the camp and Flat Iron Lake. I made my way to the campfire to brew a fresh batch, adding wood to the dying fire as I waited. I grabbed two tin cups, waiting for the coffee to emit its awakening aroma before pouring. Even just the smell was helping my head ease off a bit. I sat with my coffee, blowing on it absentmindedly, my eyes lost in the fire as my mind flashed, replaying what happened not two days ago. It wasn't the first time to be taken against my will in that way, although I'm thankful it didn't get that far. But just knowing that Frank gave his permission for my captors to do whatever they wanted with me and to be paid handsomely for it along with my return made a feeling burn within me that I have never felt before. Pure rage. Staying in camp would be the safest thing I can do now, Frank won’t give up. No doubt I would go insane. Maybe I could change my appearance somehow so I could venture out from time to time.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Arthur sat down beside me on the log. I never even heard him approach me I was so lost within my mind.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as I handed him his cup of coffee, still piping hot.

“I'm gonna kill Frank,” I said matter-of-factly, turning to face him. The look of bewilderment on his face made me huff out a laugh.

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgam x fem oc #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic

[fandom-collective-writers]

Three’s Company

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Theo x MC x Arthur Prompt: Do you like it when he watches? Warning: NFSW, Smut Requested by: Anonymous @ikemen-discord-writers Written by: kiarigirl Word Count: 1717

Summary: What happens with best friends fall in love with the same woman, but are too afraid of ruining the relationships they have?  Arthur gets a surprise gift when Theo allows him to play voyeur in a session of make-up sex

A/N: I truly felt like these two men would definitely want a threesome with each other and MC, but wanted to play off the exhibitionist/voyeur kink as well.

The night was quiet as Sara walked the grounds of the mansion.  A cool breeze washed over her, reminding her that it was nearly spring time.  Buds dotted the trees promising to create the perfect canopy to protect the denizens from the rays of the sun.  Sara froze for a moment when she heard the yapping of a dog near to her.  “King?”  She called for the dog and it bounded over to her.

From out of the shadows stepped Theo.  His broad uncovered chest seemed to glow in the moonlight.  Sara took one look at him and swallowed down the urge to touch him.  She was still angry at him for making a big deal about spending time with Arthur.  The two men were practically inseparable so what was wrong with her trying to get to know Arthur better?  “What are you doing outside at this time of night, Hondje?”  Theo’s voice was low, but still loud enough that Sara could hear him clearly.

She knelt down, fingers brushing through the golden fur of Theo’s pet.  A part of her refused to look at him.  He hadn’t yet apologized to her and still, she opened her lips to reply.  “I was lonely and couldn’t sleep so I thought a walk outside would help me.”  King rolled over onto his back waiting for Sara to pet his belly, to which she promptly did.  Still her eyes stayed on the dog and not on the man she loved.

“Here’s let’s go in and we can talk,” Theo said.  He called King back to his side as he walked to the door leading into the mansion.  Sara watched as they left.  She wrung her hands together while biting her lower lip.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Theo, she did, but she knew Theo had a way of sweet talking her into forgiving him while never apologizing to her.

As Sara stood still unmoving towards the door, someone near cleared their voice.  “Ahh, if it is the most beautiful bird in all of Paris.”  Arthur looked down over the balcony at the lone figure in the garden.  “What has you so troubled?”

Sara gazed up to the skirt chasing writer.  It was, she thought to herself, a puzzle how someone so flirtatious and open was best friends with the ever stoic, Theo.  “We had a disagreement the other day and now he wishes to talk to me.  I guess, I’m just worried that he means to end our relationship,” she said.  It was only a little white lie, nothing that they could prove to be false.  “You’re his friend, will you come with me to his room?”

Arthur’s lips turned into a frown.  Theo, dumping Sara?  The lanky author could not imagine that happening but if Sara was scared enough to ask him to accompany her, then he’d do the gentlemanly thing and agree.  “I will meet you in front of his room.”  He turned and as quick as he appeared, he was gone.

Sara dropped her hands to her side and moved towards the mansion.  If Theo didn’t apologize, she wasn’t sure what would happen.  

A light feminine knock captured Theo’s attention.  “She came,” he sighed to himself as he finished changing from his day wear into a robe.  Beneath it was just a pair of shorts.  He grabbed the door handle and pulled the door open, but what he saw standing in his doorway was not what he had been expecting.  “Sara and Arthur?”  Confusion and jealousy hung like a curtain around the threesome.  He looked at Arthur as his fingers encircled Sara’s wrist.  One gentle tug was all it took to get Sara into the room and away from Arthur.  “What are you doing here, with Hondje?”

Arthur grinned, his face betraying no emotions other than pleasure.  “She asked me to accompany her to your room.  I am here at the lady’s request.  May I come in?”  He was already stepping across the threshold before Theo stepped aside.

Theo looked at Sara, his blue eyes darkening.  Hadn’t he already scolded her about getting too close to Arthur?  He had been prepared to apologize but now, it seemed like a moot point.  Sara, grabbed Theo’s hand as Arthur walked towards the window.  “I was worried that after I disagreement the other day that you’d-- That you would break up with me.  I asked him to come as support should you leave me broken hearted.”

Theo sighed, his heart heavy knowing that he had made this fair woman so upset.  He guided her towards his bed where they both took a seat.  “I could never do that to you,” Theo said.  Arthur smiled at the reflection in the window as he listened to Theo.  He could have left and not felt guilty, since Sara’s worried had instantly been calmed but he stood pretending not to be there.  The dashing art dealer brushed his fingers over Sara’s cheek before pulling her closer.  “I wanted to say I was sorry.  I know I should have trusted you more, but I know how Arthur can be with women.”

Sara bit her lip hard enough that when her teeth released it, a tiny trickle of blood ran down her chin.  “I’m sorry too,” she said.  “I know you get jealous easily, but I didn’t realize that you would be upset over my friendship with Arthur.”

Arthur frowned when he heard her call him a friend.  He would never say it out loud, because Theo was his best friend, but his own feelings for Sara were more than that of friends.  He watched as the crimson liquid dripped from the open wound on Sara’s lip.  It was enough to make blood rush to his cock.  He exhaled slowly and dropped his hands so that neither Theo or Sara could see what she did to him.

Theo’s own body had a very similar reaction.  He pulled Sara’s mouth to his, licking at the sweet coppery blood that called to him.  One hand fell to the robe’s belt and tugged.  The garment fell open revealing more of his body than either Sara or Arthur had seen in a while.  He pulled her hand to the sizable bulge beneath the shorts he wore.  “I need you, Sara.  Please allow me to make love to you.”

Sara fumbled with his shorts before hearing the mock cough coming from Arthur.  “Do you like it when he watches?”  It was asked in jest, something she didn’t expect to be answered.  She rather imagined, Theo telling Arthur to leave.

Theo turned his gaze towards the window and found Arthur's gaze staring back.  They were begging to allow him to stay.  Even if Arthur knew Theo would never share Sara with him or anyone else, the least he could hope for that Theo would allow him a glimpse of the paradise he was denied.  Theo turned back to Sara, a grin on his lips.  “If he keeps his back to us like that, he can’t see anything.  I don’t mind if he listens.  I’ve had to listen to him often enough before we met you.”

Arthur would thank Theo later for the gift he had given him.

Sara pushed the robe and shorts off of Theo as he unlaced her corseted dress.  Material fell in piles as layer by layer, Theo undressed his human lover.  He knew that Arthur was watching everything through the reflection in the window so he made sure to make it slow.  Once she was devoid of clothing, she pushed Theo down into the bed.  Her thighs parted, straddling his calves.  She crawled up over his legs unknowingly giving Arthur a wonderful view of her cunt.  

Theo’s hand went to her hips and without warning, pulled her down against him.  His cock impaled her, which was all it took for Arthur to remove his cock from his pants.  No one would hear him, he assured himself mentally.  As Theo slid Sara’s body up and down, Arthur attempted to match them stroke for stroke.  The way Sara’s body reacted to Theo impaling her drove Arthur mad with lust.  Could she react the same way if it was him pinned beneath her luscious body?

Sara’s body leaned down towards Theo’s chest.  His mouth moving up, his tongue lapping at the dusky hued nipple.  The tiny nub reflexively hardened as warmth encapsulated it.  The tinkling of soft moans filled the air in the room.  The sound was that of a lover in the throws of heated passion.

Before long groans mixed into the melody that made up the soundtrack of the night.  Theo couldn’t get enough of Sara, and Arthur couldn’t get enough of the young couple.  Arthur bit his lip trying to keep his groans beneath the level of Theo’s.  He didn’t want Sara to know that he was getting off to watching her have sex with his best friend.  Fingers gripped tighter as she stroked his cock a bit faster now.  The writer hung on the edge of orgasmic pleasure, waiting for Theo and his lover to finish.

Theo could smell how close Arthur was to coming and knew if they were going to cum together he had to take decisive action.  He rolled Sara onto her back letting her body sink into the soft mattress.  Then, his mouth pressed into her neck.  

Sara gasped then moaned louder, her body twitched as pleasure swept through her fast.  She clung to Theo’s back, feeling the familiar explosion of seminal fluids deep inside of her.  Her own orgasm struck leaving her a whimpering mess of tangled limbs.  

Arthur grunted, no longer certain he could hold back.  He knew what Theo had done and why he had done it.  He had protected his friend and saved him from what would surely have been a very embarrassing situation not to mention one that could have severed the friendship he had with Sara.  

After cleaning up the mess he had made, Arthur quietly exited the room.  Neither man spoke to the other, what was there to say in truth?  Thank you for indulging in my perverted kink, seemed tacky and really, which one of them had been indulged?  It would be something neither spoke about openly for a good long while.

#Ikemen Vampire #ikevam naughty #ikevam smut #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp arthur #Theodorus van Gogh #Arthur Conan Doyle #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikemen vampire arthur

[hiraethhh-h]

First Impressions.

Fandom: Fire Force

Warning(s): SFF 8 being themselves, spoilers for the anime (?).

Wordcount: 1.2k

Note(s): Um… This may be a bit short since I’m running into a writing sluMp and it might be all over the place ;; … But I still hope you enjoy it!

* . °•★|•°∵ ৢোি ∵°•|☆•° . *

Shinra shifted in his seat with a grumble, glancing up from his paperwork to look around the room. Maki was seated beside Lieutenant Hinawa, the raven haired girl doing her best to focus on the work in front of her. Hinawa was zooming through sheet after sheet as usual, and Arthur was slumped over in his seat, a blank look on his face since he was exhausted from the endless piles of work. He looked over to Captain Obi’s room, he could’ve sworn he heard another feminine voice inside, one that he didn’t recognize. It couldn’t be Iris since Maki had told them she was praying in her room, and Tamaki was probably hanging around Vulcan in the garage.

“Lieutenant Hinawa,” Shinra called now, the brunette looked up from his work, his brown eyes locking onto Shinra’s red ones. “Is there someone else inside with-” Shinra’s sentence was cut short as the door to Obi’s office practically flew open, followed by a shrill whine from the new voice.

“You’re so mean Akitaru!” the girl cried, her voice high and aloof in nature. Obi grumbled, brushing past the petite girl and leaving the work-space.

Shinra blinked as he drank in her appearance, she was awfully small and short. The girl wore leggings and a white tank top with a grey cardigan on top and had on black running shoes, her vibrant orange hair reached all the way down to her waist, her piercing sky blue eyes seemed to match her hair in an odd way. Hinawa averted his gaze to the girl, Maki doing the same before letting out a loud squeal of joy. In a flash, the raven-haired girl tackled the orange-haired female, holding her in a tight grip as she lifted the girl up off of the floor in a bone-crushing hug.

“Rinnnn!” Maki cried happily, Rin beating on her muscular arms for her to let go since she could barely breathe. “Oh! Sorry…” the girl set Rin down, Rin panting heavily as she tried to regain her breath. “It's been so long! Why’d you never come to visit?!” Maki scolded the girl now.

Rin giggled, “I can’t tell if you’re happy to see me, or if you’re scolding me…” she breathed out, smoothing out her clothes with a kind smile. “But I’m glad to be back, after the mission I went on… I really needed a change of scenery.” the girl sighed, Maki giving a nod at her words, a smile still plastered on her face. Rin hummed, looking at the others in the room. 

“Hina!” Rin beamed now, Shinra tensing up at the nickname, even Arthur jolted back to life at the sound of it. Maki huffed, shaking her head with a small smile as she crossed her arms.

“Oh boy…” she muttered, waiting to see what would unfold.

Rin grinned as she rushed over to the seated male, his head snapping up to meet her gaze. He stood from his seat, the chair rolling back and slamming into the wall behind him. She outstretched her arms to the larger male, squealing with delight. With a grunt, Hinawa opened his arms to return the gesture.

Shinra blinked in shock, Arthur furrowed his brows while Maki grinned at the sight.

“Hina- Eep!” Rin cried out as he grabbed her elbow and shoulder, easily lifting the girl and flinging her to the floor. Maki grimaced upon hearing the loud ‘THUD,’ Shinra flinching at the sight. Rin groaned from her spot on the floor, rubbing the spot where her head had collided with the ceramic tile. She sat up, huffing in frustration. “I came here to see my old friends, and this is what I get..?” she grumbled, “I’m glad you all haven’t changed, besides the newcomers of course.”

“And that’s Lieutenant Hinawa to you.” the male stated firmly, sending the orange-haired girl his signature glare.

“Yeah, yeah…” Rin breathed out, standing properly and brushing her clothes off. “Now,” she turned to Shinra and Arthur with a grin, “Time for me to introduce myself!” she clapped her hands together with a giggle. “Third generation, lieutenant priestess of Special Fire Force Company 1!” Rin grinned, taking a step back to prepare her ability. She shrugged off her cardigan, bending over to roll up her leggings.

“Get back everyone.” Maki said, gesturing for them to move. Shinra nodded, standing and keeping a safe distance from Rin, Arthur followed. Hinawa’s brow twitched in irritation, but he stepped back as well.

“Rin Aoki, at your service!” she clenched her fists, activating her pyrokinetics. Her hair flared up, the orange strands turning into fire and beginning to flow freely. Rin’s blue eyes shone with pride as fire encased her hands and feet, a wide grin on her face. Though, her happy face didn’t last long. She sniffled softly, her face contorting as her nose twitched.

“Oh… Oh, no…” Maki blinked, “Everyone get down!” she shrieked, moving to use her ability to protect herself.

“Wha-!” Shinra squeaked, Arthur blinking dumbfoundedly. Hinawa grabbed them both by the collar, yanking them over to hide below the array of desks.

“Achoo!” Rin sneezed violently, her flames combusting throughout the workspace. The fire soon returned back to its original size, Rin eventually killing her powers. “Oops… I may or may not have a cold...” Rin hummed, she giggled nervously when she saw Hinawa get out from below the desks, turning to her with a hard, cold look in his eyes.

“Fire soldiers don’t play with fire.” Rin shrieked at his words, making a mad dash for Arthur and Shinra.

“I know we just met, but protect me please!” she cried, hiding behind the two taller men. Hinawa sighed, letting them be and deciding to go back to the now singed paperwork on his desk. Rin let out a breath of relief, stepping away from the two men. “So, two new recruits hm? And you’re both pretty powerful from what I hear from Lieutenant Karim.” she babbled, her eyes shining brightly.

Shinra gave a proud nod, smiling nervously as he looked at the girl. “Shinra Kusakabe, third generation fire soldier of Special Fire Force Company 8.” he moved to salute her. Rin nodded with a grin, then turning to look at Arthur.

He flashed her a wide grin, drawing Excalibur in a knightly fashion as he held it above his head. “Arthur Boyle, the Knight King, at your service.” he announced, sheathing Excalibur to salute her as well. Rin beamed at them, giggling as she looked at the two males.

“Please, please, I’m not one for formalities,” she dismissed them, “You don’t have to call me Lieutenant Rin, Rin’s just fine.” Rin chuckled, placing her hands on her hips with a smile. “And, I’ve heard a lot about you Shinra,” she turned to the male now.

Shinra blinked as he lowered his hand, he looked at the female with a brow raised and a nervous smile plastered on his face. The room around him seemed to shrink as Rin sized him up, despite him being taller than her by a few heads. Her eyes glew maliciously, her smile widening almost impossibly. A dangerous and blood thirsty aura surrounded the girl, even Arthur backed up from them as Rin took steps towards Shinra.

“Word is that you’ve got an Adolla Burst, and you fought with Rekka…” she giggled, looking at him intensely.

“I’d love to see that in action… Why don’t you come by to the first sometime for a sparring session, hm?”

#fire force #anime #crack fic #um #idk #writing #fanfiction #shinra kusakabe #arthur boyle #maki oze #tamaki kotatsu #karim flam #akitaru obi #takehisa hinawa #vrooooom