#god. the more i think of it the dangerously close i get to opening google doc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blizzardsuplex · 7 months

Text

Roderick Strong Primer Part I: The Portion About Personal Connection

Part I (you are here) | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[So...I've been jokingly kicking around the idea of doing a series of meta posts on Roderick Strong for a while now. As usual with me, however, one late night conversation with @scissormedaddyass later it no longer stayed a joke.

This will be split into four parts: this one, where I talk about some of my personal experiences concerning his work (and PWG, because I can never get away from that promotion when talking about my faves ever); the second, which will dive into what I know of his history; the third, which will talk about his character arc - yes, even he has one - and finally a match guide, because by God he wrestles real good.

I'm not saying this'll be the most in-depth dive into his character and career in the world (for one I'm gonna miss a lot of early ROH and most NXT things), but until someone else makes one my little offering will have to do. If even just one person comes out of reading this understanding a little better the brainrot I occasionally have for him, then I think I did okay. Content itself under the cut!]

As I am sure absolutely no one who has talked to me about professional wrestling for longer than ten minutes knows, the promotion that made the greatest impact on me in my teen years was 2014 to 2016 Pro Wrestling Guerrilla (PWG). Beginning with night one of the 2014 Battle of Los Angeles that took place on August 29, 2014, I saw most of the shows they put out for a decent stretch, getting off the train after All Star Weekend 12's second night on March 5, 2016. It was there I saw the full potential of my first favorite wrestler, Chuck Taylor; there where I was first exposed to both talented up and comers like Speedball Mike Bailey and veterans like Chris Hero; there where I first saw the work of my favorite wrestler ever, Zack Sabre Jr.

In other words, for nearly two years it was my favorite promotion; as people well know, though, even as late as the mid-2010s it was not very easy to watch, and living half a world away with no credit card to pay for exorbitant shipping meant that to keep up to date I had to get extra creative. Knowing that I definitely wasn't going to be able to attend a live event, I followed what was happening as closely to real time as I could though social media posts, forum threads, and the occasional YouTube clips or official preview. As soon as news of the DVD releases dropped on the company's Twitter, I would Google search through pages of trash results for a couple of minutes every day until I found someone who'd uploaded the actual full event in glorious 240p and immediately watch it—more often than not, I knew, it would make my day.

I'm not saying PWG was perfect (God no). In fact, back then I don't know if, had I been more active in wrestling discussion circles, there would have been a safe space for someone like me. Still, spending all that time and effort to keep up and watch it was a really important time for me as a fan. It opened my eyes to how fun and creative pro wrestling could be, especially with the freedom independent status provided; sure, oftentimes it would be dizzying or even dangerous to give that kind of power to the wrestlers, and they lacked the multiple levels of safety and security that proper contracts provided, but there was just so much sheer entertainment I got from spots and shenanigans that would have never be cleared or work with the constraints of sponsors, copyright, or other corporate concerns. Making to suck your opponent's dick in the middle of the ring? An invisible remote that magically makes everyone, including the chanting fans, act in slow-mo? "The legendary asshole of Jushin Thunder Liger"? All hilarious, all fondly remembered. There's a reason that for years my top wrestling dream was to attend a show in Reseda—a dream that'll never be realized, but the Globe Theatre is a beautiful venue that seems to actually have working AC, so that's nice!

But, as mentioned: after Zack won the PWG title, a result I spoiled for myself via Reddit thread with much screaming, I stopped watching. It wasn't that I was any less interested in it—I was very much excited about the prospect of my boy on top, actually! It was simply that, between the sites I used all getting nuked and not knowing how to torrent, I just couldn't find it anymore. So I fell out of watching PWG, then the American and British indies, then NXT and what little main brand WWE I still watched, and finally I didn't watch much wrestling at all for two years, from 2016 to 2018. I only came back, actually, when I found out where my old fave Zack ended up: this large promotion called New Japan…

But that's a ZSJ story, and (as is hopefully clear from the title of this post) this series isn't about him. Instead, let's set the scene:

On July 29, 2016, two events and about four months after the last PWG I'd been able to watch, Roderick Strong had his last indie date before going to WWE. Having watched it back, the entire sendoff is pretty elaborate: after champion Zack fends off his latest challenger, Kyle O'Reilly, in a grueling 20+ minute match, Roddy comes down to the ring and demands his rematch. What follows is a less than six minutes breakneck fuckfest with several run-ins and foreign object usage; but, of course, Roderick loses. Afterwards, inviting his friends then that night's locker room down to the ring, he makes his speech about how in 2014 (which was, of course, the year I started watching) he'd made a commitment to reinvent himself as a wrestler—a move that ended up contributing to him being signed to NXT after a 15+ year career. He's thankful for everything PWG had given him, though (especially his then-fiance, now-wife Marina Shafir); as he says to cap things off, he loves the crowd, doesn't hate them!

Honestly, I wish I watched just two more events than I actually did back then, because it might have made my path to becoming a fan of Roderick Strong way more flattering to me. Instead, I have to admit: after Zack tapped him out for the belt and Roddy slunk off to the back, and for a long time during and after my two year break…I forgot about him.

It's a bit of an awful thing to say and is, on top of that, admittedly hyperbole; I never dumped anything of him in my brain down the memory hole. What I mean is that he never really came to mind unless I thought about it really hard. Even during my lull period, when people asked me about pro wrestling I could talk about my favorite people and my favorite moments and my favorite matches, and Roderick was never really there in anything more than a passing mention. In my defense, at first it was because I was even more of a massive hipster back then than I am now, and since I knew he was in NXT I assumed that when (not if; those were more innocent days) he'd go up to the main roster and get lots of fans he wouldn't need me vocally being one of them. Sure, he was probably going to be misused and I wasn't really going to watch to find out because this was 2016 WWE, but he'd at least get that money and that fame on Raw or Smackdown. Why wouldn't he? He was fucking Roderick Strong, a fantastic wrestler and someone I didn't realize for years people thought was bland as hell. Surely he'd make it. Surely.

But slowly and steadily he began to fade from my thoughts, until it came to the point that even after I started watching prowres again from 2018 and into the pandemic I didn't talk about him at all—even when I began looking back nostalgically on my time watching PWG.

Then, completely by chance, the week I decided to get back into All Elite Wrestling—I watched for a while in 2019, but lapsed during the pandemic era; it was hard enough to watch one major wrestling company with no crowds, much less two—was the week Roddy Strong debuted there. Buoyed by other people's excitement and name recognition, I felt generically happy watching the clips. "Oh, yeah," I said to myself. "Roderick Strong. What's he been doing for the past few years?"

(Yes, I completely missed his Undisputed Era period, and was shocked at the belated news that he and everyone else in that faction never officially made it to the main roster. Yes, this also means I mostly know what happened thanks to Drea fighting the good fight with all her Era boys fics. No, I don't think I'm gonna watch his NXT run any time soon, LOL.)

After therefore deciding not to really dive into his recent past, I decided to, for the umpteenth time, think about when I first became familiar with him in that era of PWG…and something funny came about. If you're familiar with the trope called "Once More With Clarity", then that's what honest to God happened: eyes wide and memories superimposed above a shot of the aforementioned eyes at around 50% opacity, I realized that so many of my favorite moments and matches had him there the entire time. Person ZSJ won the belt from? Roddy. One of ZSJ's best matches until that point? When Roddy beat him the first time Zack challenged for the title. Speedball's real coming out party with the Reseda faithful? Them answering Roddy's open challenge at Mystery Vortex. That (in)famous, ridiculously overbooked, ridiculously memorable Guerrilla Warfare match at All Star Weekend 11? The heel aggressors was Mt. Rushmore 2.0, Roddy's faction with the Young Bucks and Adam Cole. Even outside of PWG, I ended up finding out he was involved in several other promotions I followed; I saw him several times in EVOLVE for instance, and what little Ring of Honor I watched Mr. ROH himself was, of course, there as well.

I'm probably forgetting something, but here's what I'm trying to get at: the more I combed through my good memories of pro wrestling the more I realized Roddy'd not only always been there, but that he was a key player in them, not just in matches but in the angles as a whole—and, yes, even promos, his forever dump stat. At the time it was all going on, I just…never really noticed him. And that's the story of much of his career, isn't it (at least in kayfabe)? Always considered an excellent hand, but even when he held the big belt he never seemed or felt like the most important person there.

"Okay," I then said to myself those months ago. "So he's a great wrestler. He's in all these great things I like, wrestling-wise. But who is he, really? Is there enough for me or anyone else to chew on from a character perspective?"

The fact I'm dedicating a four part series to this man, along with all the GIFsets and fanfic I've made, might spoil my answer to that. But for now, brave reader who's actually read all of this (or clever reader who's skipped to the end), stay a little in suspense for a bit if you’d like while I write part two. :')

#mel's writing tag #roderick strong #as I said with the Zack essay: if anyone finished this super self-indulgent thing #thank you so much. :)#IDK if anyone would want to be notified somehow when I make the next parts but yeah that's also an option

22 notes · View notes

ambermotta · 5 months

Note

I'm using Google Translate to write this, if there's any error that's the reason.

Helloo, I hope you are well 🤍 I have a question that comes to my mind all the time but I didn't know exactly where to find that answer, so why not ask someone more experienced? hehe

I started studying about witchcraft, gods/goddesses and the like a while ago, but it's really only been theory, since because of my parents I still can't practice freely. Do you think there are ways for me to start this journey now, or do you think it would be more appropriate for me to wait?

I would love to start worshiping a specific Goddess that caught my attention and really had an impact on me. Would I be able to do this discreetly? 😭

Thank you for your timee 🤍

Hi! Sorry if I took a bit too long to answer, I hadn't seen the notification 😅

Answering your question: Yes, you can start now if you wish, but that will come with limitations. If you think it's too hard, frustrating, or dangerous to practice "undercover", then it may be best to wait.

There are a lot of tools and excuses for the undercover witch:

Crystals: "I find them beautiful/ they bring me peace/ it's decorative"

Deity imagery: "I really liked this artwork/I like X mythology a lot/ it's decorative"

Altars: they can be very hard to lie about. Buy you can have a portable altar, or a box altar. Plus, they don't need to be fancy at all. Virtual altars are also an option!

As for limitations, these often include:

Not being able to light candles and incenses.

Alternatives: fake electric candles, rbg lights, essential oils and other fragrances.

Elaborate rituals are hard

Alternatives: be simple and practical. Prayers and visualization are your best friends. Do your stuff while your parents are away or sleeping.

Resources can be scarce

Alternatives: be creative so that you can improvise. You can get a lot of mundane items and give them magical/sacred properties. As for deity offerings, stick to "simple but meaningful". If it's edible, you can eat it in ritual or after you're done with your prayers (depends on deity and culture – do your research)

I personally think worshipping a deity is easier to do discretely than doing witchcraft. Worshipping can be just a prayer, sharing a cup of tea with your deity and doing devotional acts in their honor. It can be as simple or complex as you like. It's a very intimate thing between you and the deity.

Witchcraft may require more "materials" depending on how you plan to do things and some of your stuff can really give you away. That's just my personal opinion though.

Over half the time I've been a pagan witch, I was doing it all in secret. My parents were into spirituality, but it wasn't until like.. 3 years ago that they started to be more open-minded about religions other than their own. In their mind pagan gods didn't exist and witchcraft was dangerous (even though they did it themselves, they just did not see it that way).

I was lucky I could get away with lighting candles and incenses, but living in a very busy household I felt like I really couldn't do most of what I wanted. It was hard, and frustrating. But I still kept my deities close to heart and did what I could.

With all that being said, here are some questions for you to ask yourself, to help you decide what you want to do:

Is it dangerous to get caught? If your family is extremely intolerant to the point where it can be dangerous for you, then waiting until you're more independent is probably better.

Are you okay with having limited resources?

Are you okay with hiding stuff?

Are you ready to deal with your parents if they they find out?

Could you answer their questions calmly and within reason?

I sincerely hope I was able to answer your question and give you some insight ❤️

Living in the "broom closet" has its challenges, but it can be equally rewarding.

Remember you can always start small, and if you feel it won't work out, you call it off until you're ready.

#asks #witch tips #witchblr #baby witch #baby pagan #paganblr #pagan tips

12 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 11 months

Text

God's Plan - Joel Miller Imagine [The Last of Us]

Title: God's Plan

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 4,327 words

Warning(s): **HEY! Look here!** david and the story surrounding him (big ass warning there), violence, murder, references to religion/abuse of religion

Summary: (episode 8) With Joel hurt and no clear sign of when he'll recover, (Y/n) and Ellie stay put and protect him despite his protests. They didn't realize just how much danger they were truly in.

Author's Note: I have a Google Doc for my OCs and their plotlines just so I can keep track of it all. This plot point just said "ew, david". I just wanted y'all to know about that.

I think I avoided any overt reference to what David tries to do to Ellie, but since it is a part of the story, then I would advise that you skip this part if anything in the following list could potentially trigger you:

sexual assault, child sexual assault, grooming (or the attempt of such), and the abuse/misuse of religion to support illegal/disgusting actions.

Thank you.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE

---------------------

Getting into the house with a wounded Joel was the worst part.

After he got stabbed, I knew that nothing would have been worse than staying out in the open.

With the horses and supplies and trying to Ellie as safe and calm as possible, that all felt like something close to impossible.

Ellie was the only reason that I could keep going. Whether or not she would ever know it. She was the reason that I continued to move forward.

We found a small, abandoned town and made camp in one of the houses. The horses were kept in the garage for safety against the cold and snow. After a little bit of struggle, we got Joel down the stairs and made him comfortable in the basement. There was an old mattress down there. Not to mention that it was the warmest place in the house.

I ripped some clothe to redress Joel's wound. He grabbed my arm as I did, groaning a bit.

"I'm sorry," I muttered to him. I looked at Ellie. "Go upstairs, search the house. Medicine, needle, thread. Anything you find that could help, got it?"

She nodded, staring at the scene with wide eyes before scrambling up the stairs. When I looked back at Joel, he was stopping me from getting to the wound.

"And you... you need to help me out here," I basically whispered. "I can't do this shit on my own. I don't give a shit how little hope you have in the world; I need you to fight."

"Go," Joel said through the pain. "Take the gun and Ellie and go."

"No," I muttered.

He put his hand over mine. "(Y/n), please. Take Ellie and go. Find Tommy. He'll-"

"Stop it," I snapped at him. "I'm not... I'm not leaving you. I-I can't lose you. I can't."

The tears in my eyes were an obnoxious reminder of just how scared I was. And how much of that fear was clouding my judgment.

"(Y/n)," he repeated.

"Joel, if you don't move your hand, you're going to have three problems," I warned. "The stab wound, a hurt hand, and me not leaving."

He stared at me for a few moments before finally moving his hand.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Ellie ran back down a few minutes later. "I found some thread and a needle!"

"Good! Give it here!"

I held up one hand to catch it as she tossed it over. As I caught it, I felt Joel's hand grab mine. I looked back down at him and grinned a bit.

"It's gonna be okay," I mumbled, comforting myself more than anyone else. "I promise."

Ellie knelt down next to me.

"You don't have to watch this, kid-"

"I wanna be here," she cut me off.

I nodded. "Okay."

Now, I wasn't good at stitching up wounds, but it was enough to get by. I tried to remain as calm as possible as I worked. Ellie would sometimes awkwardly shuffle back a bit as she realized how close she was to me. The worst part was Joel grabbing at my arm. I kept apologizing through the worst moments.

I wrapped the wound again once it was done.

By that point, Joel had passed out. He was still breathing, but it was clearly labored. A struggle.

"You should get some sleep," I told Ellie.

"Is... Is Joel gonna be alright," she asked.

"I don't know," I confessed. "I'll stay up, keep an eye on him. You need to rest."

She finally relented and laid down next to him. I made sure that they were both covered before going to sit with my back against some nearby shelves.

The night was calmer than I expected it to be.

I checked on Joel's wound a few times, jaw clenching a bit as I did. The chances of it being infected were high. But the house didn't have any medicine and I couldn't risk going out and leaving Ellie by herself.

It wasn't until a day or two later that we were facing anything other than nature and time.

I watched Ellie trying to get Joel to drink some water as I pulled my heavy jacket over my shoulders.

"Where are you going," she asked.

"I'm gonna go track down some food," I explained, picking up the gun. "Stay here, guard Joel, anyone other than me come in... kill 'em."

"I wanna go with you," she replied.

"Ellie, no-"

"Please, I can help," she begged. "What am I gonna be able to do while I'm just sitting here? Please."

I looked at her for a moment before sighing and nodding. "Hurry up. Let's go."

I led the way out of the house. I knew very well that the town appeared empty, but I wasn't ready to risk our lives on an appearance.

We found ourselves in the trees, trying to move quietly in the hopes of not scaring off whatever was left in these woods.

I saw a deer off in the distance.

I stopped abruptly, kneeling down and motioning for Ellie to stay quiet. I slowly adjusted my aim until I had it lined up. The shot echoed through the trees. I tried not to worry about it. We just had to get the deer out of the trees.

I had gotten a pretty decent shot, but it wasn't enough to bring the deer down as fast as I would have liked.

Ellie and I followed it, carefully.

When we did track it down, there were two guys standing over it.

"Hey!" I yelled. They looked over at me. "Drop your guns. Now."

They didn't fight. They simply placed their guns on the ground, turning to face us.

"That's my kill," I informed them. "Our food. Leave it alone."

"Quite a hunter," one of them said. "Didn't hear you guys coming."

"Just get away from the deer," I replied. I had no interest in starting conversation. "Leave."

"Can I ask for ten seconds of your time-"

"Nope," I shook my head. I adjusted the gun. "I don't give second warnings."

As if I ever killed without any hesitation. I was more of a hazard because I didn't shoot first, ask questions later.

"Go."

"Just ten seconds," he insisted. "My name's David. This is my friend, James. We're from a larger group: women, children, and we're all very, very hungry."

"So are we!" Ellie shouted. I shushed her quietly.

"You should get hunting then," I replied, turning back to David. I caught his eyes shifting from me to Ellie. Almost out of instinct, I moved a bit, blocking her as best I could. "Can't light ourselves on fire to keep someone else warm."

He looked back at me. Something in his eyes twisted my stomach. He continued talking, "I'm not asking for charity. I'm asking for a trade. What do you need? We have boots-"

"Medicine?" Ellie spoke up before I could stop her. I shushed her again. "Like for infections."

"We do," he nodded. "Back at our village. You're welcome to follow us."

"Not happening," I said bluntly. "Your little friend is welcome to go get it. Come back with the medicine, half the deer is yours. If either one of you try anything, I'll be sure to paint the snow a very pretty red."

David looked over at James. "Go talk to Howard. He's got a case with some penicillin. Bring back two bottles and a syringe."

James looked between us and who seemed to clearly be his leader.

"It's not code, James. Do as I said."

I tracked James as he ran off before turning the gun back on David. "Ten steps back."

Those ten steps were enough to get us closer to the deer and the guns than David was. I nodded at Ellie.

"Check 'em," I whispered. "Make sure they're empty."

I remained focused on David as she did that.

"Whose gun is that," David asked. "You don't look like you're used to holding it."

"Shut up," I said.

"It's a four-mile trip back to our settlement, you know," he replied. "It's gonna be a while before James gets back. I've got some oil and matches in my pack. We could take shelter, start a fire."

I glanced at Ellie.

She was shivering. I would have felt like shit if I had left her outside for this long with nothing to help her.

"Grab the deer," I instructed, motioning to it with the gun.

We found ourselves all sitting around a fire pit. The dead deer sitting to Ellie and my's right, David across from us. I kept the barrel of the gun aimed at him. I still couldn't shake the sickening feeling in my stomach but Joel's survival was on the line.

I still look back and wish that I had done anything other than sit there and listen to that disgusting man talk. I wish that I hadn't let him try to pick at details of us. I wish that I hadn't let him try to worm his way into Ellie's mind.

He was the perfect example of something that I hoped would die when the apocalypse started.

But no, selfish bastards with god complexes seem to always find a way. And once they have their feet settled, they will make sure that everyone around them knows about their moral high ground where the only exceptions are for them.

The ones who would hurt others to prove their superiority.

The ones that called for love while actively destroying anything too different or too difficult to control.

The ones who usually deserved the fire more than anyone they preached against.

But hey, they had God. They couldn't be wrong.

And anyone around them was perfect... or they burned.

And- like David- so many of them would do this while holding the Bible as a shield.

I should've shot him. I should've shot him and his little buddy as soon as I saw them near the deer.

But I didn't.

And I had no idea what the cost of that would be.

At the time, the tension seemed like my own discomfort. That was until David insisted on proving that everything happened for a reason. He told us a story of the cruel winter and sending out scavengers. He talked about some of them dying, one of them being a dad. And then... he said that it was two adults accompanied by a young girl.

I abruptly stood up and turned around, pointing the gun at James, who was standing behind us.

"Wanna test who the faster shot is," I asked. He adjusted the gun, standing up a little taller.

"James, put the gun down," David instructed.

"They killed Alec-"

"They didn't kill anyone," he stopped James. "Lower the gun."

There was a long pause where neither one of them spoke up. James finally lowered his weapon.

"Did you bring the medicine," David asked.

"Yeah, but-"

"Throw it over."

I nodded at Ellie to catch it as I kept my gun up. After some reluctance, he did so. Ellie moved back behind me as she shoved it into her pocket.

"You two aren't from a group," David almost seemed amused about that idea. "You won't survive out there for long. I can protect you."

"I've got that handled, thanks," I snapped at him.

I walked backward, letting Ellie lead me outside. I was hoping that I would find a little bit of peace after that moment. That realization that David had considered us guilty and wanted us dead.

But that didn't happen.

That look in his eyes still followed me. There was just something different there and I didn't know what to do about that.

I don't think Ellie and I stopped running until we made it back to the house with the medicine after a little while. Joel was still unconscious, still cold.

I shrugged off my freezing jacket. "Give me the medicine."

She listened to me, standing still as she watched me.

I moved the jacket and fabric that we had used to make some kind of covers for him. I hissed a little when I saw the state of the wound.

It wasn't until I had the syringe in my hand that I realized that I had never done this before. I had been the QZ for a long time. Soldiers would distribute medicine if they had it and before that I never had any.

"What are you doing," Ellie asked.

"Wondering how bad I'm gonna fuck this up," I muttered before injecting the medicine into a part of the wound. I carefully drew the needle back.

I covered everything back up as best as I could. I touched his forehead. His head was warm.

"Okay," I mumbled. "Okay..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I shook my head. "Lay down. Get some sleep."

"When was the last time you slept?"

"I got a little bit last night. I'm fine."

Ellie sighed before relenting. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads.

I picked the gun up and took my place against the wall.

The next morning was the beginning of one of the scariest days that I had experienced since the beginning of the end.

I had felt a small amount of comfort when the sun started shining through the window. I leaned into it for a moment. It was warm.

After giving Joel another dose of penicillin, I let myself take a deep breath. While I did that, Ellie got up and got some snow put in a bucket so the horse could have something to drink.

"You're gonna be alright," I muttered to Joel as I covered him up again. "I know it. You know it too."

I jumped when Ellie slammed the door open and ran downstairs.

"Those guys are back," she yelled.

"What?"

"David and James and a whole group of other guys! They're looking for us!"

"Shit," I muttered. "Um, alright... alright."

Ellie knelt down next to Joel, trying to shake him awake. I saw his eyes moving a little bit, but only for a few moments.

"Ellie," I said, pushing myself off the floor. "We can try to keep them away from here, but Joel's in no condition to go anywhere."

She let out a huff before grabbing her knife. She placed it in his hand. "Look at me. There are men coming. We're gonna lead them away from you, but if anyone makes it down here, you fucking kill them, got it?"

He didn't react, but we didn't have time to check that he got it.

I shoved my thick jacket back on as we climbed up the stairs.

After working together to drag a piece of furniture in front of the door, I grabbed Ellie's hand and pulled her to the horse. She climbed on.

"We're gonna take off in different directions," I instructed. "Horse is faster. I want you to get as far away from here as possible. I'm gonna try to pull them the other way and then lose them somewhere, alright?"

"What? No, (Y/n)-"

"Ellie, I need you to listen to me," I stopped her.

"I'm not leaving you-"

"I will find you. I promise," I touched her hand. "All else fails, find Tommy again. I will either meet you there or meet you along the way. Now, go."

She hesitated.

"Hey," I said. "I love you, alright? I've never lied to you. I'm not lying to you when I say that I will find you, got it?"

She nodded.

"Go."

She took off in one direction and I took off in the other. I found the group of men walking down a street. It didn't seem like they had any idea where we had been.

"Hey, motherfuckers!"

It was as the word left my mouth and they all turned to face me that I realized that I had no gun with me.

"Shit," I mumbled, turning around and taking off.

I didn't stop to see how many of them followed me. The collection of footsteps crunching snow was enough for me to know that my act had gotten at least of few of them behind me.

I took off between houses, jumping fences and turning between alleyways.

I only paused when I heard a gunshot that was too far off to be aimed at me.

That small pause was enough for me to be grabbed and shoved onto the snow-covered road. I grunted as I landed, but tried to keep running as soon as I could, even with the pain from my head kissing the street. I didn't the chance before the butt of a gun hit my face and sent me back to the ground.

Through my blurry vision, I saw a few men walking up to me.

And a whole new wave of fear crawled through my chest as I thought about the others tracking down Ellie.

When I came too, I was tucked away in what I assumed was a barn. My arms were strung up to something on the ceiling.

"What's your name?"

I blinked a few times until my eyes could focus on James standing by the door. I saw a gun in his hand, but he wasn't aiming it at me.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you," I muttered. "It's just none of your fucking business."

"It is when your kid is locked up," he replied.

"We both know that's not a threat," I said. "Your little leader would never let you. My life is in far more danger than hers ever will be... isn't that right, James?"

"Not as much as that other friend of yours."

I glared at him.

"Tell us where he is and David will help him."

"Bullshit."

"Not even for that girl you are so adamant to protect?"

I took a sharp breath through my nose. "Where is she?"

"That's none of your business, is it?"

I let out a sarcastic chuckle. "You think you're so clever, huh?"

James clenched his jaw.

"Why are you standing so far away?"

"Didn't have enough rope for your feet."

I looked down. My toes barely grazed the floor. "Scared of me, James?"

No response.

"I'd be more scared of your buddy, David. He's the one answering to an entity that doesn't exist."

"Don't speak of God like you know him!"

"Fine! Let's look at it from your angle! God does exist but he decided to end the world and then fuck off! He doesn't give a shit about his wonderful creations!"

James huffed.

"What would you rather be true? A nonexistent God or a God that is there but will never listen when you pray for him?"

James turned around and walked out of the door.

"Aw, run back to David! Go get instructions for how to kill me! Can't make your own decisions, huh? Coward!"

My yell died off once the door slammed shut behind him.

I looked up at the rope holding me.

It was nothing special, but getting out wasn't going to be easy. I was hoping that they would have been too stupid to tie me up to the point that I couldn't get out.

My mistake.

I took a deep breath, grabbing one hand with the other.

"This is gonna fucking suck," I muttered.

I had to stop myself from yelling as I pushed on my thumb. I had no proof that this trick would work on rope; I just wanted it to. I almost cried when I heard a loud pop. It was barely enough for me to get my hand out. I landed on the ground and fumbled with the rope on the other wrist. I got it loose enough to pull off.

I hissed as I did my best to set my thumb back the way it had been.

I didn't have enough time to worry about it too much before I heard the snow outside crunching.

I grabbed the rope and hid as best as I could behind a half-wall in the small building.

James ran in once he saw that I was gone.

I jumped out once his back was to me. I wrapped the rope around his throat and pulled it toward me until I managed to bring him to the ground. I heard the gun he had been holding fall to the ground next to him. As he laid dazed on the ground, I tied the rope around his wrists as best I could.

I only stepped back to grab the gun and flip him onto his back. I pressed a knee right into the middle of his chest as I shoved the gun in his mouth. It was the only way that I would have been able to stop his yelling.

The gun wasn't a hunting rifle or anything. Just a handgun. My guess was that he had been instructed to come in and kill me.

"Here's what's gonna happen," I said. I pressed the gun a little further into his mouth. "I'm gonna pull this gun out of your mouth and you're going to tell me where the fuck Ellie is. If you don't, I'm gonna shove the gun back down your throat and you'll taste the moment that I blow your brains out. Got it?"

James didn't move but he looked at me instead of my hand, so I took that as a good sign.

"Good."

I pulled my hand back just far enough for the gun to not sit in his mouth. I raised an eyebrow at him as he took a few deep breaths.

"I'm waiting..."

"Fuck... you..."

There were maybe two seconds of hesitation before I shoved the gun back down the guy's throat. "No second chances."

I pulled the trigger.

"Blind faith and willful ignorance," I muttered as I shoved myself up.

I stormed out of the building.

I didn't have any knowledge of the layout. I didn't know what buildings were what. I didn't know who was there or what they were willing to do. I did a bit of a circle, desperately looking for some sign of something.

And then I saw the smoke.

I ran for it, following the smoke to another building.

It wasn't until I got closer that I heard yelling inside.

I circled the building until I found the door.

"Ellie!"

I grabbed the door and tugged on it. It was stuck. Or locked.

"No, no, no," I muttered. I leaned back before slamming my shoulder into it. "Ellie!"

I slammed my shoulder against the door again. Then, I pulled on it again.

I yelled before stepping back, prepared to break a window open. I didn't get the chance to do that before the door slammed open. I almost reached for my gun, but I stopped when Ellie came stumbling out.

"Ellie," I said quietly. She looked at me and I saw it take a few seconds longer than normal to recognize me. When she did, tears built up in her eyes. "Hey..."

I stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Come here, come on," I slowly stepped away from the building, pulling her along with me.

My chin rested on the top of her head as I held her as close as possible. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my own tears in.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

She merely hugged me a little tighter.

It had been my fault. I was the reason we stayed; I was the one that told her to run off with the horse. I was the reason she was stuck with that damn monster. And I had no idea how to fix that.

I opened my eyes and caught someone off in the distance. I felt my heart spike for a moment before I truly realized who it was.

"Ellie," I muttered. "Ellie, honey, I need you to turn around."

It took a few seconds, but she eventually pulled herself back and turned around. I let out a relieved and stunned chuckle. I was on the verge of tears all over again.

"Joel," Ellie called.

She took off before I could even think about it. I followed close behind her.

Joel was stumbling, clearly still weak. But he had a gun thrown over his shoulder. He had come for us.

Ellie had no hesitation hugging him. She was still crying, shaking. I reached out and touched her back. Joel and I looked at each other. I could see him looking for an explanation. I just didn't have one. Not one that I wanted to repeat in front of Ellie. I didn't want to know what would happen if I did that to her. I had caused her enough pain that day.

My other hand touched the side of Joel's face. "Are you okay?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

He ignored my concern. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, ignoring his fingers sliding over my wrists. "Just tired."

Ellie looked over at me. I tried to offer her a comforting grin.

"We should get moving," I looked back at the burning building.

Ellie stepped back and followed my line of sight.

"Here. Arm around my shoulders," I instructed Joel. "I'll take the gun."

He relented with little argument. That was new. I was used to his stubbornness. I tucked the gun over my opposite shoulder and wrapped an arm around his torso.

"Hey," I called to Ellie. She blinked at me a few times. "We've just gotta get out of town, alright?"

She nodded.

"Lead the way."

I could still feel that dread pulling at my heart.

That dread that this whole thing wasn't over. I could see it on Ellie's face. The event was over, but there was something that going to stick with her.

And I didn't know how to help her.

---------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

50 notes · View notes

maximwtf · 2 years

Text

“His lightbringer.”

Michael x angel of comfort reader

words: 2740

google docs pages: 6

warnings: getting injured, bleeding (think that’s all)

opening: You tried to tell Michael that going to war with his brother wasn’t a good idea, but he didn’t listen. When the war happened, you decided to join him. You expected the worst for him, he was against the devil after all, but the worst happened to someone else…

AN// Spoilers from season 5! I don’t even like Michael all that much, but I found out that there isn’t enough fanfics about him, so here I am. Also don’t mind the power I gave Y/n, I had to think of something quickly xd

“His lightbringer.”

You had asked him nicely, you had begged him to not do this. You had given him a reason after reason as to why he shouldn’t do this. But all of that had gone to deaf ears. He didn’t seem to care at all. All he cared about was the plan he had been working on, nothing else mattered. He was so sure of himself that you didn't think anyone could talk him out of it. He had even gotten almost every one of the archangels on his side, and gotten them to vote for him. Of course you were proud of that, but this was dangerous. Even if Lucifer didn’t have most of the angels on his side, you were sure that he would come up with something. He wasn't as stupid as Michael gave him credit for. He had been against the idea of you joining him for the war at first. Arguing that a place such as that wouldn't bring anything more but pain to you. But oddly enough, after asking him a couple of times he had agreed, and let you join him and the other angels. Most certainly he'd only agreed to get you to stop asking, as he said, he was far too busy for something like that. This wasn’t going to turn out good, but you wanted to be there for him. Even if you couldn’t be of much help.

And all of that had led you here. Michael was in the front, you and the others were standing behind him. He had bet that Lucifer wouldn’t even show up to the coliseum, but to his surprise the man arrived. He didn’t have much of a backup team with him. Only the detective you had heard about and Amenadiel. You tilted your head at this, but didn’t say anything. Lucifer had apparently told Zadkiel the ‘real reason’ as to why he wanted to be God, and because of that Zadkiel had changed sides to Lucifer’s. Another one of the angels switched sides as well, but came back after Michael threatened the lives of the ones who wanted to switch sides anymore. You looked down at your feet because of this. How could he threaten the lives of his own siblings for the sake of being God? All these angles were on his side because they were scared, afraid of stepping out of line. Who would want a God that could take your life whenever he felt like it? Soon after Lucifer’s arrival, Maze and Eve joined in as well with a small army of demons. His side looked a little more fair now.

You wanted to tell him again to stop this, but you knew there was no point to it. There was no way he would listen to you now, if he hadn't listened before. You were worried about him, because you cared. But he didn't see that, his mind corruped by the idea of power which he had come so close to. You had in all honestly started hoping he still felt the same care for you. He had been so busy with this plan of his, you hadn’t spent as much time with him. You even began to wonder if only you'd been there for him more, would this war be happening right now? Was this all a part of God’s plan as well?

Your attention was brought back to the fight when you heard the angels around you gasp. Michael had activated the flaming sword of the angel of death with the key. You had heard that Michael had killed one of his sisters to get the key, which you absolutely frowned upon. He hadn't told you of that being a part of his plan, nor had he told you about going through with it. What kind of a creature he'd turned into, out of your grasp... Yet, Your gaze stayed on Michael, and you watched Lucifer throw multiple punches at him. They began fighting, but you knew you had to stay still. None of the other angels moved either. The fight didn’t seem fair. Lucifer didn’t even have a weapon, and Michael wielded a sword that could kill and wipe an angel from existence for forever. Amanadiel’s exclamation caught your attention. He called out for Lucifer and threw him Zadkiel’s staff, evening out the fight even if only slightly.

Just as Michael was about to hit Lucifer with the sword, Lucifer was able to block the attack with the staff. “Ohoho, my brother has a stick. Whatever shall I do?” You were able to hear Michael laugh. This earned him a hit to his head from Lucifer. You gritted your teeth together as they both kept fighting. It hurt to watch, but you knew Michael wouldn’t want you to join this. This was so far between him and his brother. As they both flew higher, Michael was able to break the staff Lucifer was using in half. Your hands were in fists, ready to go and defend Michael if he needed it. It took every bit of will power in you to hold yourself back as it was.

Lucifer fell onto the ground, and Michael prepared to finish him off with the flaming sword. You thought that this would be the end, but to your surprise Lucifer got up to catch Michael’s arms and hold back the sword. You heard Lucifer say something about a plan, and before you could think of anything the detective ran up to Michael and stole the key that kept the sword in flames. She ran off with it, getting Michael to run after her. As confusing as it was you finally understood, this was Lucifer’s plan. The plan that Michael had sworn the man wouldn't have. Now that Michael was distracted, Lucifer would be able to take the blade. Michael wouldn’t have any use for the key even if he got it back, if Lucifer had the blade. They'd been able to play the man with a cheap trick.

You didn’t want to have to do this, but it seemed like the only option. You distanced yourself from the other angels, and ran towards where the sword was now. “Lucifer!” You yelled out, walking fast towards him. He seemed to have heard you, but he was looking at something else. “Azrael.” You heard him say. This made you stop in your tracks. What was she doing here? She wasn’t exactly on anyone’s side, but if she was here that meant a human was about to die.

Only Lucifer’s pain filled scream was able to bring you back to reality. It was your natural power and purpose to comfort the hurt, and that scream made you shiver, tug you towards the suffered. The devil was truly in pain. You turned around and saw Michael stabbing the staff that he had broken In half into Chloe’s stomach. She fell to the ground, making Michael turn to Lucifer. You stared at Lucifer and summoned your wings. You usually used them to protect and comfort. It was only natural for you to want to help Lucifer. No matter who it was, it was your purpose. “Lucifer, she-” You started automatically but he had already ran up to Chloe. You stared at them both with a frown on your face, your brows furrowed with worry. Michael seemed to have noticed your behaviour, signaling this by giving you looks. Telling you to move away because you weren’t a part of this.

“Michael, enough!” You stormed towards him, wings creating gushes of wind. Sand from the ground flew up into the air as you stopped in front of the man. For once, you looked more threatening than comforting. “You killed a human!” You stood in front of him, gritting your teeth together. “Y/n, I think I told you not to even come here. This is why.” Was all he said to you, but it didn’t help. It only angered you more. You wanted to say a lot more than that, but you heard Maze scream something in lilim. This caused all of the demons to attack the army of angels Michael had brought with him. All of the pain and suffering around you hurt you internally, you wanted to help so badly but you couldn’t. There was nothing you could do.

“Do you see what you’re doing?! You’re going insane!” You exclaimed at Michael, voice pained and heavy. All you could hear were the screams of the demons and angels fighting. “Do you even care?! Do you even care about me anymore? I told you multiple times no to do this, but you didn’t listen!” You yelled at him. He stood in front of you, not being able to see Lucifer and Chloe because of your wings protecting them from his gaze. All he could focus on was you. And for a second you could have sworn you saw a slight amount of regret and worry in his eyes, but you weren’t sure if he was merely acting to get you to calm down. Even though he was Lucifer’s brother, they were nothing alike. Michael lied, and that was something you knew Lucifer would never do.

“I’ll go to heaven and bring her back, it wasn’t her time. It wasn’t her time!” You heard Lucifer yell from behind you, making you turn bak towards him. “But brother, don’t you remember? You were banished from heaven. You’ll burn and die if you go up there!” Michael laughed, the small amount of worry gone from his face the second you'd turned away from him. “I don’t care if I die, I’ll bring her back. “ Lucifer said, and you heard his wings appear. There were a couple waves of wind that hit the back of your wings, and before you knew Lucifer was gone.

You turned your gaze back to Michael, covering him from everyone with your wings. “Well?! You’re not going to say anything?” You growled at him, still holding your hands in fists. “I told you I had to do this. I’ve lived in the shadow of my brother for too long and I finally have a chance.” Michael replied, standing calmly in front of you, in the shadow of your wings. Like he knew that you weren't going to attack him no matter what he said. “Michael, please. I just-” You were pushed forward mid sentence, mouth staying slightly agape. “What?” Michael laughed at the pause. “I think I told you earlier, you can't change my mind. No matter how much I care about yo-” He started but soon was forced to stop. You pressed your eyes closed, and gritted your teeth. A sharp pain went through your body, and it made you drop to your knees. “Michael, I-” You groaned, mouth hanging open as your gaze shook. You held your hands to your chest, eyes moving slowly up to Michael. He didn’t take long to understand what had happened after that. One of the demons must have seen you stand in front of him, and you had been an easy target. There was a demon knife in the middle of your back. “It hurts…” You mumbled, as you pulled your wings back in to save energy. “No..no this wasn't a part of the plan.” Michael cried out silently, getting onto his knees to support you. His hands shook slightly, hovering over you in panic. “Listen, you keep your eyes open okay. You’ll be alright.” He said, mostly trying to convince himself. He felt your blood drip onto his hands, and from there to the ground.

“Pull the blade out, Michael.” You said calmly, trying not to panic. But even through that attempt, you're voice came out as nothing but a hiss. “That will hurt you even more. I’ll get you somewhere safe, alright? My lightbringer…” Michael mumbled the last part, now the determined and proud character starting to break down. Hearing him call you his lightbringer again like in the past had confirmed that he still cared, and it made you want to stay.

“It seems you now know how I feel…” You heard Chloe say. Wait- had Lucifer actually succeed and brought her back here? That seemed to be the case, and it made you smile slightly. “Because you took the man I loved away from me!” Chloe yelled in pain, and took Azrael’s blade from the ground. Michael hadn’t gotten the chance to pick it up before because you had been blocking his way, you lowered your head at that. Now he was going to get injured because of you. You couldn’t let him die now.

So when you knew Chloe was about to strike at Michael, you took all the strength you had left and stood in front of him, spreading your wings to protect and cover him fully. “Move out of the way!” Chloe yelled at you, holding the blade in her hand. You knew the strength the blade held within it. It could kill you right then and there, but on the other hand you already had a demon blade in your back, so what did you have to lose? “Chloe, stop.” Lucifer’s voice called out. He had survived as well, how? From what you could tell, Chloe was surprised because of this as well, and it didn't take her long to drop the blade. You let out a sigh of relief at the action, dropping back to your knees. Summoning the wings in the state you were in was no low energy task.

You attepmted tp shielt yourself with the wings, but Michael pushed them aside gently, coming back to your side. He hoisted you up to a better position, trying not to touch the blade.

Lucifer’s gaze fell on you. He didn’t know much about you, having seen you only a few times. All he knew of was your power and that you had been the one angel who had stuck by Michael’s side when no one else had. Now it appeared that one of the demons had managed to put one of their blades into your back. You were on your knees, breathing heavily with your gaze locked to the ground. “Y/n, get up.” Michael commanded from behind you, his eyes now filled with worry and regret as he attempted to help. “My time on earth has taught me that everyone deserves a second chance, and so does my brother. Let’s stop this war before any more lives are lost because of this.” Lucifer spoke up, and turned to look at Michael as the other angels that were still standing started to gather towards the stairs. “But you will never, never hurt anyone again.” Lucifer continued and walked past you to meet Michael. Lucifer glanced at him, before he swayed Azrael’s blade and cut off his twin’s wings one by one. You heard his screams as this was done, but you were too tired to turn around and see the damage. You felt the pain of loss around you immediately after that, but there was nothing you could do to comfort him. You were too tired. As much as it pained you to refuse to follow the instinct in you.

Chloe seemed to have calmed down enough to come up to you. In her eyes you were innocent, and had just gotten mixed up in something that wasn’t ever meant to happen. “I’ll call an ambulance for you. You’ll survive this.” She assured you, helping you to stand up slowly. Your wings were dragging on the ground, the ends of the feathers now dirty and stained red. You were leaning heavily against Chloe, trying to gasp for air. Lucifer walked in front of everyone and waited for Micheal to drag himself to the other angels. They all slowly bowed down to him. You would have joined them, but you couldn’t. Leaning your head on the woman, tired.

After, the angels had returned to Heaven. The only ones left were you, Michael, Lucifer, Chloe, Maze, Eve and Amanadiel. Amanadiel had called an ambulance, and now you had to be moved to another location. Michael had asked to be by your side as you healed, before his punishment would be put into action. Lucifer had agreed to this. Only thing you were worried about was the punishment that awaited him, not your own survival. But you'd talk to Lucifer about it when you were able to.

An// Idk if this turned out good or not, but i’m too tired to proof read it so- let’s hope for the best :”D

#lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #michael #michael lucifer #michael lucifer x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfic #lucifer fanfiction #michael demiurgos #michael demiurgos x reader #michael demiurgos lucifer

73 notes · View notes

popcorn1989 · 2 years

Text

Chapter One: The Long Journey

Warning: This story, somehow has everything, blood, violence, etc.

Characters: I used familiar characters (Ivar, Hvitserk, Floki etc.), but took the right to include an OC. Name: Viggo the Fearless. Several OCs will probably show up, but they won't be major Characters.

Story Summary: Ivar was stabbed in battle, against the King of Wessex, by an unnamed soldier. And Hvitserk has converted to Christianity. But something happened that turned Hvitserk's life upside down, he had to make a choice, and he is taking a dangerous path.

Other Storys - Here

If you, want to be added to the tag list or removed, let me know.

Tags: @nukyster-blog

Words: 2917

Chapters: 0ne - ???

These notes appear only on the first chapter.

Note 1 : I had inquired with you guys, even though no one really wrote anything, I went off the Likes and now leave my first chapter here. I'm a hobby writer, I'm not really good but do it for my spirit and hope to please some with it. Also, it takes me a little longer because I have to translate everything. I'm not so good at English that I can write in English right away, Sorry if translation errors, despite intensive search, appear. Let me know, what do you think, and thanks in advance.

Note 2: To all: I'm sorry I'm writing Ubba and not Ubbe like everyone else because I googled his name and thought it was a spelling that was pronounced differently. Once I wrote it that way, in a Story, I didn't want to change it.

Have Fun

The small boat swayed heavily on the water. He looked over the railing and could see only water, the clouds were gathering more and more. A low moan was heard, and he looked at his brother, who was lying wrapped in blankets on the bow of the boat. Hvitserk got up and went to him, he rummaged in the pockets, for the water hose, while opening it, he looked into the white face, of his brother. "Everything will be fine, I won't let you die" he let some drops run over his finger and stroked his brother's dry lips wet. He had once tried to pour water into his brother's mouth, almost killing him, because the water ended up in his lungs instead of his stomach, so he decided to keep his skin wet. Hvitserk had made it this far, he couldn't give up now, he stroked his brother's sweaty wet face and pulled the blanket further down his face so that the salty sea, wouldn't dry his face out even more. He himself took a small sip of the water, before he stowed the water hose again.

It started to thunder, just what he didn't need right now. He stood up and had trouble keeping his balance on the small boat. The wind picked up and blew his long, loose hair in his face, but he didn't have time to tie it up. The sail was going back and forth, he had to furl it, if it tore due to the wind, the two brothers would really have a problem. The rope was sticky from the sea salt, and the battered hands that had blistered from the oar were, started to bleed. But this did not stop him from to take in the sail. Drops of blood now adorned, rope and sail, but Hvitserk did not worry about that, it was the storm that frightened him. They had come far so far without complications, but so far their destination was not in sight. And he had no idea when they, or if they, would arrive. But there was only one person who could help his brother now. He was just slinging the last rope over the mast and tying a knot when it started to rain. The waves were getting stronger and stronger, and he had to hold on to the mast to keep from falling over the railing. Hvitserk got down on his knees and crawled on all fours to his brother.

He wrapped himself in fur and lay down next to him. Now he could only hope and pray to his gods, but for a brief moment he did not know to which. He was baptized by the king of Wessex, and the silver chain with the cross on his neck made him doubt. It couldn't hurt to pray to Jesus too, if it helped get his brother to his destination alive. He closed his eyes, took the chain in his hand and began to pray. But the word Amen did not pass his lips, because the boat was hit by a strong wave, and the salt water sloshed over the railing and drenched the two brothers. Hvitserk coughed, and his brother began to stir. "No, not now" came from him as he pulled the blanket off his brother, he lifted his clothes, the bandage was soaked, and the blood mixed with the water. He took his fur and placed it over his brother before slamming the blanket back shut and wrapping his brother tightly. "Later," he said, then picked up a bucket and began to shovel the water out of the boat. When his thoughts threw him back again.

"Will you serve God, live with us and start a new life, far from your people?" - "Yes" - "Will you serve me and fight for our cause?" - "Yes" Hvitserk paused and looked at the water, in his bucket. Something that I had to do. Something that, saved my brother's life. I am not one of you, I am a Viking, not a Christian. He emptied the bucket as his mind wandered back to the King of Wessex. "I am sorry for your brother's death" - "It was his fate" - "He gave up" - "No, he didn't. He did it for me" - "He knew I would never quit while he lived" - "I know" - "I saw him one, like a friend" - "He was never your friend" - "I know, for that I can see you, as my friend" His fingers began to ache, and he let go of the bucket and looked into his palms, new blisters forming, the open flesh, turning white from the salt water. "A friend" he spoke softly, laughing briefly. I will never be your friend. He looked at his brother, his eyelids flickering, if he caught a fever now he would never make it in time, but he had no choice but to wait.

The cold rain, made his limbs so cold that he could barely move, but he would get his brother to his destination, even if it was the last thing he did. The boat was sloshing back and forth more and more dangerously, if it tipped over, they had lost and neither of them would arrive. The bucket landed on the ground as he let go of it, and he crawled to it. He took a rope and tied it to the boat, looping it once around him and attaching it, to the hooks provided, left and right, so he wouldn't accidentally fly over the railing. "Only as long as the storm rages" his voice trembled, and he could hardly speak. He didn't know why or if his brother heard anything at all, he did it to calm himself and not go crazy. Two weeks at sea, without another soul, except his brother, who was doomed to die, but Hvitserk held on to the smallest straw, he knew he could make it. Once again he pulled the blanket over his brother's face, which had slipped away from the wind, before sitting back in the middle of the boat and picking up the bucket. He looked out to sea and tears ran down his cheeks, thinking back to the day when he thought he had lost his brother, forever.

"He is alive, we must tell the king" Hviserk had been sitting at the side, his brother, when they were getting him ready for the death bed, two Christian women, washed his body, when Ivar took a deep breath, he stood up in disbelief, looking at a Viking standing at the door, he did not know how, but he had acted quickly. The Viking stood in front of the door and pushed, the woman back into the room who had been about to leave. "No one leaves the room" his voice had been low and cold that day. "Take care of his wound and heal him as much as you can" the two women looked at each other "We will refuse, let him die, this tyrant" the youngest of them spoke. Hvisterk pulled up his upper lip and showed his teeth as he drew the sword and plunged it through her body. He saw her eyes tear open, blood coming from the corner of her mouth, and she slumped to her knees. The Viking, at the door, drew his axe as the old lady turned to run out. "I'm going to scream" - "Maybe we should cut your tongue out."

The old lady turned to him, her face showing no movement. He pulled the sword out of the woman's body, who briefly let out a last groan, and wiped it clean on her clothes. The sight of him must have frightened her so much that she said nothing and set to work treating Ivar's wounds. He was jolted out of his thoughts when a wave caught the small boat, he flew over the railing in a high arc, but he managed to cling to it with one hand, the water was freezing cold and for a moment, his heart stopped, but it decided to keep beating. He took a deep breath as he poked his head above the water's surface and gripped the railing with his other hand. He screamed with effort as he tried to hoist himself back into the boat. He didn't make it the first time, the water kept sloshing into his face and making it hard to breathe. His clammy and aching fingers, clawed at the wood, but they kept slipping, and he had to grab again. His exhaustion, however, caused him to sink into his thoughts once again. "We need a corpse that looks like my brother" - "I'll get one" - "Leif, if you don't find one, then resort to killing someone, but make sure the wounds look the same" The Viking named Leif nodded and turned around when Hvitserk's gaze fell on the old woman, he looked at her angrily when he noticed what she was doing there and trying to do.

Hvisterk, slowly, lost the strength, but he tried again to heave himself over the railing. When he lay with his upper body on the wood, he thought for a moment that he had made it, but another wave threw him back into the water, and he was only just able to hold on with his hands. Again, he took a deep breath as the water sloshed over his face. Don't drink the water, he thought briefly, it would be the death of you. It was his last Chance, he knew, because he had no strength left and without him, Ivar had no chance to survive. He swung himself up and, with the last strength he could muster, he made it over the railing. Hvitserk landed on his back, soaked and half frozen, he reached over himself, reached the fur that was looped over his brother and, shivering to the core, pulled it over his body "I'm sorry, brother" he spoke, his lower jaw trembling, and he tied a rope that was tied tightly to the railing around his wrist. Then he fell into a deep sleep due to exhaustion. His dream was, surreal, blurred faces that he did not recognize, but he knew that this had really happened. The woman's eyes widened, and she backed away as Hvitserk drew his sword and walked toward the table where his brother lay. The wound she had fiddled with was bleeding, but it was still closed. "That was stupid of you" he spoke, killing another poor soul that night.

The Viking he had hired was standing in front of him in a dark room. He said he had found someone who looked like his brother. A boy, younger, but tall enough, he lived outside the village. He had stabbed him, just as Ivar had been stabbed. This corpse, he had handed over to the king, no one had suspected, and Hvitserk showed that day how good he was at lying. He woke up again as the sun burned his face and the water in the boat kept sloshing in his face. Crows sat on the mast, feasting on what they thought they had found. Hvitserk sat up jerkily and was about to go to his brother when the rope, around his wrist, cut him in the skin. His face shows no emotion, his skin was numb, he only noticed how his skin split. He unwound it and looked at the wound, which started to bleed, a flesh wound more or less, didn't worry him. He looked around the boat, it was half full of rainwater and sea. On the surface floated, scattered, small cloths and skins. He jerked his eyes open and looked at his sword, relieved he exhaled, it was still hanging on the railing, tight in two hooks. Ivar's Greaves were still in place, even though they were now underwater. They had lost several bags of supplies, as well as dry clothes.

Some of the supplies, like apples and soggy bread, floated joyfully around the boat. He grabbed a small cloth and wrapped it around his wrist, feeling angry at himself for not having possessed the strength to stay awake. They could have sunk, and they wouldn't have even known it if they drowned. Hvitserk went to his brother, put a hand on his forehead, it was warm, but his skin was ice-cold. The crows screamed, and Hvitserk stood up and screamed as he tried to shoo them away. But they were persistent and did not give up their booty so quickly as Hvitserk realized something. "Crows are terrible" - "Why do you say that, Hvitserk?" - "They are the harbingers, of the dead, father" - "No, they are important on the sea, they show us if we are closer to land" at the thought he widened his eyes and stumbled to the railing and looked to the left side, from far he saw small black mountains, and he laughed. "Brother, I don't know if it's the destination. But there is land" He looked for the bucket, which also swam joyfully around in the boat and again began to remove the water from the boat.

"One thing at a time brother" he spoke and grinned, "First the water, then the sail, then I will tend to your wound, the sun will warm you. Then I will row until I have no strength left" It would take some time, but he knew they could do it. Joyfully, he thought back, "Did you find out where Floki the boat builder is?" - "Why did you want to know that again?" - "Ivar was like a son to him, I have to let him know and say goodbye. This is the only way I can close my old life" - "Will you come again?" - "Of course, I have a new life now" Hvitserk shook his head, he had cleared the boat of water, the rest would dry on its own, Ivar's wound didn't look good, but he had no idea what to do about it, so he just decided to change the bandage. He had looked at the cloth map King Alfred had given him, but since he had drifted off to sleep, he could only guess where he was. He had hope, however, that it was the land where Floki must be. He looked to the land, the wind was good, so he had opened the sail, they would reach the beach as if by themselves. He put the map next to Ivar, wiping his clammy hair from his face before putting a hand on Ivar's forehead, "I don't know if you can hear me, but we'll be there soon."

He was sitting on the hill, looking at the sea, when his gray eyes could see the small boat on the horizon. Slowly he rose and straightened his coat, his gaze went from the boat to the forest behind him, his horse was standing by a tree, looking at him as if it knew exactly what was moving him. One hand went to his sword at his belt as he looked again to the boat. He pulled up his nose for a moment and decided not to tell anyone, the boat was so small, so he was sure he himself would be able to handle the men that came there. So he made his way to the beach, the way was long, so he had to hurry so he could get to the beach before the boat. He was lucky that today he had decided to be on horseback. But he knew that the sea, would carry the small light boat almost by itself on land.

When he reached the edge of the forest he stopped, he got off the horse and looked at the water, as he had guessed, the boat was already in front of the beach, he saw a long haired man sitting at the oar. His posture told him that he was exhausted, it would be easy to take him down. Nobody would just come here without any intention. But it seemed that he was alone, because he saw no one else. He wondered what a single man was doing here. The young man in the boat stood up and jumped over the railing, taking the boat by the bow and pulling it onto the wet sand.

So he started moving and walked towards the young man. He drew his sword and watched as the young man, his hair hanging wetly on the back of his neck, fell on his back at the last jerk of the boat and lay there exhausted, laughing and visibly satisfied. Laughter would be lost on him, he thought to himself, and put the tip of his sword to the man's throat. He saw the boy, who had just been happy to be on land at last, tear his eyes open and look into his ice-cold face, which showed no emotion. The young man followed his gaze as he looked into the boat, and he began to grin when he saw the lifeless body. "Leave him alone," the man lying on the ground said to him, carefully, he tried to stand up, but then the tip of the sword pierced his skin and he saw the blood running down his neck. The young man wiped at the small wound, the blood spreading down his throat, and he looked at him angrily as he looked up at him from his bloodied hand, he just raised his eyebrows questioningly.

#vikings hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar x hvitserk #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #hvitserk fanfic #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #long fanfic #vikings storys #vikings ragnassons #fanfiction #Fanfic writer #fanfic #i write for fun #female writers

16 notes · View notes

headspace-hotel · 3 years

Text

a set of somewhat related things I’ve been thinking a lot about:

As often as people say “google is free” on the internet, it seems like more people would have written about the experience of actually trying to learn about social issues by googling them and how much it fucking sucks.

like i very much did grow up in the Bible Belt in an EXTREMELY conservative community. Like, the bland, “centrist” moderate liberal type of person people on here say is basically indistinguishable from a Republican? people i was around as a young teenager would consider them dangerously close to being a communist. Both of my parents have had significant portions of their social circles completely ostracize them for not being trump supporters. Not even for having “liberal” views, for QUESTIONING the idea that Donald trump is God’s gift to man

what I’m saying is, I very much did have to learn about things by aimless googling and it is. not like people say it is

When you google things like “how do I help fight against racism,” you get a combination of resources. many of which are rather jargony for people who aren’t culturally familiar with “The Left” or whatever. And yet. they’re mostly the same set of very basic suggestions, many of which have unclear concrete application

I’m losing my patience with how much “activism” is expected to center around social media presence. like so much of what supposedly answers “how do I help fight against racism” or whatever basic question revolves around things you do online instead of in real life. In particular, “listen to minority voices” is basically just “follow people on social media.” It’s so internet-centered. A lot of the advice is suited more to a “people freely interacting in an open plaza where we talk about bigotry and inequality” kind of thing rather than the kind of interactions you have in real life with people.

at the same time, a lot of the guidelines about handling these conversations are so badly suited to the internet.

Like. On the internet, people’s identity isn’t always public or easy to find out, nor should it be, but no one seems to want to...admit...???...that this makes putting into practice “centering” and listening to certain voices kind of hard. Online, people have no idea who you are unless you tell them. You very much can lie if you want. It has always seemed to me like social issues conversations are better to have in real life with people you actually have a relationship with. Not that we can’t have them online (obviously) but we are limited.

Furthermore, though I agree with, and try to put into practice, the idea that basically people know more about the bigotry and discrimination they face than I do, and therefore I should listen to minority voices and let my viewpoints be guided by them...being a semi-popular blogger who interacts with and gets messages from loads of people means that it’s basically impossible for me to practice that online because this is the internet, where if you can think of an opinion, it exists and someone is telling you that you should die over it. I have been called a bigot over the most batshit fucking bonkers cuckoo for coco puffs things under the fucking sun.

like i have been called a racist and colonialist for believing that ADHD, as a label, corresponds to a real thing in my brain. I still have the screenshots. I know I’m not SUPPOSED to be like “yeah, I don’t think that’s correct,” but what can you do.

(Do any of you remember that big post a while back where someone was claiming that a Van Gogh painting was blackface, and it turned out that they were arguing that literally all art by non-black people was blackface? I still have no idea if they were a troll or what but it was a Thing, and a real demonstration of how someone who is a malicious troll or just bonkers can just say shit. I don’t think anyone took that one seriously, but still.)

basically real interactions in the real world are so much different than the internet and way more important and productive in my opinion but our ideas of how “activism” is supposed to work and how to be an ally is so internet-ified while at the same time not really working all that well online. both in terms of learning about things and about interacting with people. can we just admit that the internet is a REALLY socially weird place and by no means the baseline for How Human Interactions Work.

#random #opinions #ally #learning #internet #internet culture #online culture #activism

633 notes · View notes

meruz · 3 years

Text

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

359 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

298 notes · View notes

iwishicanbeagoodpianist · 3 years

Text

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

68 notes · View notes

ubemango · 3 years

Note

*gregorian chant* breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink bree

In another universe pups is the ABO fic I never wrote HJDHJDSHJDSHJHJFHJFSD OK so anyway I won’t lie I had to google what cum inflation was and when I saw what I saw.... yes. Ok. It got my brain gears going *rusty noise of gears turning* U know what I mean??? So i was thinking..... ***NSFW WARNING

You see hentai on Namjoon’s laptop one day. You’ve mastered the art of nonchalance, though. So when he comes back from the bathroom and gives you a smile—as if you haven’t gotten a peek into Things That Turn Namjoon On That Don’t Include You—you breathe an internal sigh of relief. Safe.

Except you’ve stopped taking notes and now all you can think about is Namjoon watching porn so brazenly on his laptop. Where he does schoolwork of all places! He could at least just use his phone. Also you’re just a teensy bit wet because cartoon boobs and dick is still conducive to horny hours, even if you are doing something as unsexy as critical writing.

Your study date ends with a simple kiss on the lips because Hoseok’s home this time and you’d rather not taint the living room space while he’s occupying the apartment too. Namjoon slips in a little bit of tongue though, because he’s cheeky like that.

You text Namjoon right when you get home. You lie and say you’re going to sleep early, with the excuse that you have to wake up early for a meeting with your advisor. And when he sends you his good night text, you get to it. Getting ready for bed, turning your night light to the colour red once you’ve settled in.

You have sleuthing to do.

Because the hentai wasn’t just... well there’s no regular hentai, is there? It’s just. There. Being hentai. And what’s Namjoon without an inclination for messy pussies because of—because of—

You close your eyes tight because you can’t believe what you’re about to type into the search bar on your phone.

But first!

Incognito. Whew. The shame of clearing your history would be too much to bear. So when you press enter on cum inflation it isn’t so bad. Especially when all the X-rated websites pop up and your screen just becomes Anime Boobies Galore when you click the first link.

You can’t believe Namjoon had the gall to just leave that website up there on his screen. You’re scrolling down the page and already you’re feeling hot. And it isn’t even because of the fact that you’re skimming through videos of perfect girls getting so cummed up their stomachs literally become distended. Nor is it the thought of Namjoon watching it and enjoying it, either. Rather...

Was he thinking of you when he was watching these videos? Bending your knees up over your shoulders and promising you that he’s saved up all his cum for you? Getting you to drool down your chin, cross-eyed?

(Your hand is down your panties at the third video you come across. You come pretty hard when you see the girl’s pussy literally spew semen from how hard the guy comes inside her. And when you reach post-orgasm clarity you immediately exit the browser, chuck your phone onto the floor, and hope to god sleep overtakes you within twenty seconds.)

The next time you meet up for another study date with Namjoon is the weekend. That’s a good three nights of jacking it off to the same video of a huge dongle fucking a good five buckets of semen inside his girlfriend. And when you settle all your notebooks and laptop down, you immediately go for the kill.

“Do you like anime boobs?”

Namjoon chokes on the water he’s drinking from his bottle. “I—ahem. What, uh... what brought this on?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of hentai so I thought I’d ask,” you clarify.

“Uh-huh,” he says incredulously.

“And you know, it’s just—I liked it. A lot. You know. Just for your information.”

Namjoon blinks. “Are you trying to get at something here?”

“Because I don’t really mind, you know. Porn is porn. And you can like whatever you want. Like as long as it’s nice and consensual,” you ignore him.

“Babe.”

“Like I would never make fun of you because I’m—well I’ve watched Grinch porn before but that was against my own will—“

“Baby,” Namjoon laughs, squishing your cheeks to stop your rambling. “What’s going on?”

“I like h’ntai,” you try to articulate with his hands still keeping your lips pressed in like this.

“I get that. But why?”

Oh god. You don’t even know what you want from this conversation. Maybe the guilt of catching him has caught up to you. Or maybe you also just want to have a distended stomach from having Namjoon bust a fat load inside you.

You take his hands from your face, clutch at them for support. “I saw... Um. What you were watching. The other day.”

“Ah.” You watch Namjoon’s ears turn red. He squeezes your hands right back. “You—damn. I’m sorry.”

“No—!” You clear your throat when it warbles. “N-No... it’s... well I...”

You feel his thumb rub comfort into your skin. He looks like he’s getting ready for a scolding. So when you say, “I actually really liked it and I’ve been watching it every night,” in one breath, Namjoon blinks.

And blinks.

After a solid sixteen seconds of silence, he says: “That’s really hot.”

You both stare at each other. The notebook you laid out for notes sits quietly, waiting.

“You wanna go to your bed—?”

Namjoon nearly dislodges your shoulder when he pulls you up to stand. “Yes we’re going right now.”

Something you’re really thankful for when it comes to Namjoon is how compatible you two are. You can’t count how many times you’ve both just looked at each other, no words to say, but somehow still completely on the same page. It’s like you both have the instinct of the other person ingrained in the part of your brain that deals with intuition.

You’re pretty keen on foreplay most days, but even Namjoon sees you’d rather rip your hair out than not immediately go for the feeling of his dick ramming inside you right at this very second. He laughs when you strip in record time, laying supine on the bed while he undresses.

“What’s gotten into you?” As if he’s not hard himself. He crawls over you with kisses warm on your belly, your breasts. “I have to admit. I really just wanted to fuck today.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh. You knew something was up the second you realized Hoseok wasn’t home. He probably sexiled himself. You remind yourself to buy him dinner one day for his noble deed. “Just—I’m wet. I think. I just want you inside me, please.”

Namjoon groans. “You’re dangerous.”

“I watched hentai for three nights straight, I’m horny,” you whine in correction.

“You wanna know something? Please don’t laugh.”

“What?” Oh you’re wet alright. Namjoon lines his cock at your hole, slides tight inside. “O-Oh—what?”

“I kind of. I haven’t jacked off since the last time we met,” he says, voice tight. “Thank god you watched that shit because I probably sound crazed right now.”

“Huh?”

He grinds up till his hips meet your ass, and you shiver when the tip of his cock hits just right. “I—I wanted to save my cum for you,” he admits, sweating at his neck, and something clicks inside you, because you were right.

“I thought—about that too—ngh!”

Namjoon fucks you steady now. No more shy thrusts like he always starts off with to gauge your mood. He knows you want it. “Shit. About what, baby?”

“You. A-And... making me full... of you.”

“Oh my god.” He grabs your thighs, opening you wide. Takes a thumb to your clit like he’s on a mission. “Will you come with me? Can you do that?”

Holy fuck you’d do anything for him. So you nod, moaning with every hard thrust he gives you. Your legs threaten to close when he rubs you raw, but he commands with a low voice:

“Open, pups.”

Embarrassingly, that does it. He’s never one to order you around. And knowing he’s purposefully saved you his cum like it’s Christmas come early, you know better than to hinder the process.

Your legs shake when you open wider, feeling the warmth of his cock tenfold. “I’m close,” you cry when he slams into you.

“Feel it here?” He slides a sweaty palm to your abdomen. “Gonna give it to you right there. Make you so full. So pretty. All—mine—!”

You don’t even know if that was your signal. But the thought of him swelling you up like that girl on your screen, her womb so full with cum and promise—

“Joonie!” You shriek, toppling right into red-hot pleasure, clutching at the sheets because it’s too much. You come in waves, and Namjoon rides it with you, bucks into you with one last groan. You feel it, feel his excess warmth coat your insides just like he’d told you, and you pretend you feel your stomach balloon for more space. He rubs a grateful hand on your stomach.

“My little cum dump,” he coos tiredly, and you slap his arm with a laugh.

“Don’t pull out yet.” You slide your arms around his shoulders, bringing his tired form onto you. “Keep me plugged in.”

He laves at your neck. “Oh so now I’m out of line when I say weird shit.”

“I never said it was weird,” you whisper. “I’ll happily house all your semen.”

“Oh my—pfft. Ok. You know what? Show me that video you were watching, I need to know what’s got you like this,” he snorts, and you promise to do it later. You’ll just keep him like this for a little while.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bts scenarios #ubemango fic #f: pups series #d: pups series

605 notes · View notes

yesttoheaven · 4 years

Text

GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL

CHAPTER 1

pairing: arvin russell x female!reader

summary: In the eyes of extremely strict parents, 'good' girls go to hell, but they don't know that they are handing over their own daughter to the devil – known to all as Rev. Teagardin.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: language, mentions (not depictions) of abuse, manipulation, religious fanaticism, angst

a/n: This idea has been on my mind since the day I watched the movie, so... here we go!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

"I don't usually interfere that way. It would be best if she came here willingly. She needs to be open to accept all the blessings that God will bring to her life." Rev. Teagardin took a step forward, considering the request of a mother and father completely desperate for the salvation of their only daughter.

"We tried everything. We found great references about a boarding school called 'Good Pastor', but a week later they called to report that she had run away! Our daughter appeared a few days later in the company of three strange girls. One of them is a single mother, our Y/N shouldn't hang out with those kind of people." The woman's words contained disgust. She was tired of watching her daughter ruin her own life. The girl had become a topic of conversation in the town and a shame for the whole family.

"The truth is, we don't know what to do with Y/N. Day after day she becomes more rebellious. She doesn't respect us." Mr. Henson shared the same agony as his wife, but both see Preston as the solution to this problem.

"We don't want our only daughter to go to hell! You need to help us, Reverend. We believe that you are the only one capable of driving the devil out of her. In the name of God, save our little Y/N!"

In absolute silence, the preacher walked near the window, watching Y/N. She was sitting on the hood of Mr. Henson's car and her body was lulled by the gentle breeze that touched the skirt of the dress she wore, revealing her legs that should have been silky smooth. Smiling, the man looked at the girl's parents, knowing exactly what to do to save Y/N's soul.

"I'm glad you came to me. God will be my guide to help your daughter. Now, I would like to talk to her for a while."

Extremely grateful, Y/N's parents agreed and left the church for a few seconds. When they returned, Y/N was with them. The girl's curious eyes moved from side to side, until they found Preston Teagardin with his hands on his hips. He was at the altar, the cross appearing behind his head left him with a divine aura, but the girl remembers the day she saw the preacher humiliate – indirectly – the chicken liver dish that Emma Russell prepared with such affection. If he said those horrible things to a religious woman like Emma, Y/N didn't want to imagine what he might be thinking about her at the moment. Maybe he was wondering why she hasn't started to burn while walking on sacred ground, but it was him who was burning. Burning with desire. A sin that he identifies in others, but never in himself.

"Hello, you must be Y/N." The man approached, his eyes shining like a hungry predator who had just found the perfect prey. "You don't usually visit the house of God."

"But I'm sure that is about to change." Y/N's mother replied, looking at her daughter hopefully.

Y/N may not be an especially easy girl to handle, but she never understood why her parents didn't respect her space. She never visited the church often and that number dropped to zero when they started to force her to go with them. Over the years, Knockemstiff residents have turned religion into a disease. It's close to insanity and Y/N Henson doesn't want that for her life. Despite being seen as a sinner, she still prays every night. She gets down on her knees and talks to God.

"Dear, your dad and I brought you here to talk to Reverend Teagardin..."

"What? You said you would come here to confess and then we would go home!" Y/N protested angrily. She was ready to retrace her steps to the exit when her father took her arm.

"Y/N, we just want the best for you. Talking to the reverend can be a good start."

"And we are not giving you another option." Mrs. Henson completed, remaining firm in her decision. "Your father and I agreed not to participate in this conversation. We will walk around the town and then we come back here to get you."

"I can take her home... If you agree." Teagardin said, hiding his real intentions and touching the girl's shoulder. She was so small around him and looked so vulnerable. He smiled when he realized that.

"Oh, that's very kind, Reverend. Thanks." Y/N's mother replied, feeling enchanted by the man's benevolence. "Be a good girl." She said, kissing her daughter's forehead.

The preacher accompanied them to the door and having no other option Y/N walked through the church, staring at the cross nailed to the wall. She never felt that she was turning away from God, but looking back is exactly what she did.

"Now it's just me, you and Him." The reverend's words brought Y/N out of her own thoughts and she turned to him, crossing her arms in the process. This made her breasts more visible under the black dress she wore and Teagardin noticed.

"I can go and you tell my parents that you talked to me, but it didn't work because I'm a hopeless case. It's simple."

"I can't lie to your parents. I also don't think you're a hopeless case, Y/N." The man admitted, going to the first bench and sitting down. "We can talk?"

"Like... about my sins?"

"No. A normal conversation. Why don't you start by telling me about your life?" He patted the bench, silently inviting her to sit beside him.

Y/N didn't understand how a simple conversation could help, but she found the idea pleasant. Showing a shy smile, she approached Teagardin and sat down next to him, leaving a space between their bodies. Once again she looked at the cross, beginning to speak:

"I work for Ms. Fowler, she has a chicken coop and some pigs... I don't do much, but I like to help take care of animals and she says they like me too." At that moment Y/N looked at the preacher and imagined that she would find him with an expression of disinterest. The same expression of disinterest that her parents show when she tried to start a conversation or simply tell how her day was. They were always busy, but Teagardin was completely focused on everything she said and with a small smile on the corner of his lips.

"So, do you take care of the animals? I'm impressed, I don't know many girls who risk their lives by entering a pigsty."

"It's a dangerous place." She let slip a sweet laugh, feeling light, as she hadn't felt for a long time. "I understand them."

"I can see that you have a great relationship with animals, but what about your friends? Tell me a little about them." Those words were enough to destabilize Y/N. Any sign of happiness disappeared from her face and everything went gray, just like the view through the church windows. The rain was close and Y/N controlled herself not to start crying.

Like a sniffer dog, Preston felt this was a sensitive subject for the girl – maybe an open wound – and waited patiently until she decided to share it with him.

"I was never good at making friends, but I used to have a friend at school. Her name was Isabella. We were inseparable, but one day her father received a job offer in another city... Despite the distance, she called me every day in the late afternoon" The nostalgia was noticeable in her voice and the way her face softened with small memories. Isabella and Y/N were like sisters, but Mrs. Henson never approved of that friendship. "I am three years without news of my best friend. She never called or answered my letters and I don't know why, reverend."

"Have you never been to visit her?"

"My parents won't let me out of Knockemstiff."

"You don't have to go alone. They can go with you..."

"They don't care about me or what I want." Y/N said, shaking her shoulders as if this feeling was mutual, but deep down she knew it wasn't. "My mom said I have the power to turn people away and if Isabella walked away from me, it is certainly my fault."

"Your mother shouldn't say that." Teagardin looked deeply hurt. The situation was worse than he imagined, this family needs his help.

Y/N needs his help.

"Well, I lost Isabella's friendship, but I got three new friends!" The girl informed, as if she had finally found her place. "Two of them I met at the boarding school. The third helped us to escape and she has a beautiful baby. They work together in a bar away from the city..."

"What do they do in this bar?" The reverend had some suspicions, but he wanted to hear her confess.

"They... dance." Y/N said slowly. "I know it can look wrong, but they are good people and I don't understand why everyone looks at these girls with..."

"Have you ever been there?" Preston needed to know, but the girl just bowed her head. Sighing deeply, he stretched his arm over her shoulders, ending the distance between their bodies. "It's all right... God is merciful and benevolent. He forgives all of our sins, but He does not forgive lies."

"It was only once. I swear!" In the same instant that the words left her lips, she hid her face in Teagardin's chest and he took the opportunity to hug her, and feel the sweet perfume of her hair. It smelled like innocence.

"You made a mistake by going there. That place is not for family girls."

"I was just tired of everything... So, I thought about going there to have a drink and forget about the problems."

"Learn one thing..." The man said softly, running his fingers through her hair. "When problems arise and you feel alone, start praying. God is your best friend. And I am also here to help you."

"Thanks, reverend."

"Never go back to that place again. You shouldn't be drinking... and smoking."

"Wait..." The girl moved away from Teagardin, looking him straight in the eye. "Did my parents say that?"

"I was in town when I saw you smoking with a boy. He approached you and passed the smoke to your mouth... And then he kissed you. Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh, you saw me with Arvin..." Shame consumed Y/N, turning her cheeks into two tomatoes. "But we are not together. It was our first kiss... My first kiss."

The moment they shared in the car had been magical. Arvin was always different from the Knockemstiff boys. He never judged Y/N for her actions. He understood her, but sometimes some problems were so big that they made the girl run away from him. All Arvin wanted was to hold her in his arms and protect from all the evil in the world.

"You need to stay away from these people. Starting with this young guy." The preacher's words captured Y/N's attention, confusing her. "You can't see it now, but those friendships are not good for you. They are driving you away from your true purpose. And Arvin Russell is taking advantage of your innocence to..."

"Arvin would never do that." She stated in all letters, not letting him finish the assumption. "I think... I think he likes me."

"There is a big difference between love and carnal attraction, and boys his age think of only one thing." Teagardin insisted, using a peaceful tone of voice. He was so convincing, that despite knowing Arvin for a long time, Y/N wondered about the boy's real intentions. He was always kind and respectful, or maybe that's what she thought, but with the help of the reverend she was beginning to understand, and the feeling of being used was difficult to digest. "I saw the way he looked at you... I saw the sin in his eyes."

"This cannot be true... W-We are not talking about the same person! He's d-different!"

"It doesn't matter who you believed in all this time or what you accepted to... to be like them. In the end, you are alone. You know it." When Preston finished, she was completely broken. It was cruel, but someone needed to open her eyes. Y/N deserved the truth. "I know it is difficult, but I am here for you." He buried her against his chest in a bear hug, wishing feel her soft, warm body in his arms again. Y/N returned the hug — and then started to cry.

Her friends were not her friends.

Her parents were right.

She felt confused. Lost. But the reverend was beside her to show a new path free from sin and delusions.

"Do you know Proverbs 28:13?" He asked, holding her face in his hands. With his fingertips he wiped away a few tears and she smiled, shaking her head. "Whoever tries to hide his sins will not succeed, but the one who confesses his sins and leaves them behind will find mercy. Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, reverend." That was the confirmation he needed.

Preston Teagardin always believed that he had a special connection with God. With the right words he had the power to reach the hearts of these girls and offer them redemption. In his dark mind, they were privileged to be touched by a holy man like him. He was doing them a favor. And now it's Y/N's turn.

"First, you need to be free from your sins." The man looked with adoration for the little fallen angel. Slowly, he touched her knees, feeling the smooth skin and after a sigh, the girl was in his hands.

"Reverend..."

"Shhh. Just trust me." He said when his hands disappeared under her dress. His touch was sacred, something she had never experienced, but Y/N's conscience screamed that this was wrong. "Stand up so I can take your panties off. I need to feel you..." She got up, but ran quickly away from him, escaping his dirty hands.

Disappointment appeared in her eyes in the form of tears. It was impossible not to feel used. Again. Influenced by him, Y/N believed that her friends were a problem in her life and that they were moving her away from God's plans, but the real sinner is inside the church. His understanding, concern and kindness never existed. It was all part of the game. He needed to earn her trust before he could attack.

"You... You are a wolf in sheep's clothing! A liar! I thought for the first time someone was understanding my side, but you just want to fuck with me!"

"You got it wrong..."

"S-Stay away from me!" Y/N warned when Teagardin tried to approach. Fear coursed through her veins, spreading through her body like a drug. She didn't know what to do, but she knew she didn't want to be touched by him that way. "If you approach me, I swear I make a scandal! The whole city will know who you really are!"

"No one will believe you." He took a step forward. "You need help. I'm the only one who can..."

"Stop that shit! Do not say that the devil is in me, when you are trying to abuse a girl who is old enough to be your daughter! You are the devil, Teagardin!" For the first time she saw the anger in his eyes. Preston would never agree with that, but that is his true face. He is the devil in disguise and this was confirmed the instant he advanced on her.

Y/N ran to the exit, screaming desperately for help, even though she knew she was alone in this nightmare. With shaking hands, she tried to open the door, but the reverend took her in his arms. Compared to the girl’s small, slender body, he was stronger than she was, but Y/N resisted and hit her knee in the middle of his legs, reaching his weak point. The man let out a loud growl and walked away, seeking support on one of the wooden benches. Taking advantage of the distraction, Y/N opened the door and ran as fast as she could. Teagardin thought of running after her to finish what he started, but he gave up as soon as he saw her cross the threshold of the church, running in the rain as if her life depended on it. She didn't look back, just kept running until she disappeared into the trees.

...

The day turned into night, covering everything with its dark cloak, while rain fell mercilessly on Knockemstiff. Y/N stumbled along the road, hugging her own body in an unsuccessful attempt to warm up. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the raindrops, but the girl's mind was elsewhere.

After what happened at the church, her faith was in pieces. She always knew that bad men walked on Earth, but she never imagined that the preacher was one of them. The way he touched her was disgusting. She wanted to scream, take the pain out of her chest and run back home to tell her parents what happened, but Teagardin's words were stuck in her head, hurting her:

"In the end, you are alone. You know it."

"No one will believe you."

Unexpectedly – or maybe that was a divine sign – a car approached the road Y/N was on. She was surprised to hear the noise of the engine and looked back. Despite the rain and the headlight blinding her for a few moments, Y/N recognized the old car and the boy on the other side certainly recognized her too. Arvin left his truck without a second thought, not caring about the pouring rain wetting his clothes in a matter of seconds.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, needing to raise his voice so she could hear. The girl opened her mouth to reply, but gave up, looking away.

Arvin realized that something was wrong. It was common to see Y/N walking around the city, but not in these circumstances. Before she looked away, he noticed the pain in her eyes. It was no secret to him that she had a difficult relationship with her parents, but this time it was different.

For a moment the worry made him forget that they were both still in the rain and when he realized this, the boy immediately guided her to the car. When she was safely in the passenger seat, he bypassed the vehicle and took the driver's seat. Rain was no longer a problem, but the cold persisted and Arvin grabbed his jeans jacket from the back seat.

"Here." He handed it to her and Y/N mumbled a small 'thanks', wearing the jacket. "So... what happened? You are far from home. It is dangerous to go out in the middle of a storm like this..."

"My intention is to stay away from home. The storm is an extra." The girl tried to relax, hiding her real emotions but it was obvious that she was not well.

"Did you argue with your parents again?"

"I would prefer that." She replied, forcing a laugh. Getting into an argument with her parents was common for her and seemed small compared to what actually happened. But what really happened was suffocating her. "I can tell you everything, r-right?"

"You know you can." Arvin said, holding her hand. The simple contact made their hearts accelerate and Y/N was grateful to have him by her side.

Feeling encouraged, she began to tell what happened at the church. The fact that her parents insisted that the devil was inside her, made Arvin angry. He never understood what the problem was with Mr. and Mrs. Henson about this. Y/N was not sick. All she needed was love and they never gave it to her.

Y/N didn't want to delve into the details of her conversation with the new preacher, but Arvin heard the fear in her voice when she mentioned his name. She said he was good with words, and very persuasive. He easily won her trust and that was her worst mistake. Arvin stopped listening when she said that the man's hands disappeared under the dress she was wearing. Anger consumed him quickly, making his blood boil and he clapped his hands on the steering wheel. With a vision blurred by tears, Y/N looked at him with concern. The tension was clear throughout his body; his jaw was tightly clenched and his hands were shaking as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Arvin always had an explosive temper – paternal inheritance –, especially when the people he cared about were hurt.

"The preacher will never touch you again. I promise." He stated with conviction, bringing his attention back to Y/N. She looked tired, crying silently and the boy opened his arms for her to snuggle against his chest. Playing with a lock of her hair, he said: "I always knew there was something wrong with him. I should be there for you..."

"It's okay, Arvin. I'll be fine and I'll forget what happened... I just need to stay away from the church. This is easy for me." Y/N knew it wouldn't be so easy, but to calm him down, everything was welcome.

"You cannot protect him."

"I am not protecting him, but I know you..." She murmured softly, running a hand over his chest. "My life is a mess, you are the only one who believes in me. So, I'm just asking you not to do anything stupid... Because... Because I need you here." Arvin relaxed at her words. It was nice to know that she wanted him around in this difficult time. Y/N would have his support forever. And his love. For her sake, he decided to act with caution, but this does not mean that Teagardin will not suffer the consequences of his actions.

With undisclosed feelings, they remained embraced, just enjoying each other's company. It had been a long day. Arvin remembered the fallen tree in the middle of the road, forcing him to take the long way home, but that path brought him to Y/N. He was happy that it was he who found her in the middle of this storm.

"You need to rest. I will take you home." The boy broke the silence and Y/N moved away from him, shaking her head.

"No! I don't want to go home! My parents... they go..."

"I'll take you to my house." Arvin said, catching her cheek with his hand and watching the panic disappear from her eyes. With a smile, he added: "Grandma misses you."

• a/n: This is the first fic I publish here and I'm very nervous!! (Possibly I will do a second part of this) Btw, criticism is welcome!!

(CHAPTER TWO HERE)

#arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x you #arvin eugene russell #arvin russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x y/n #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #preston teagardin #arvin russell one shot #tom holland one shot #tdatt imagine #tdatt fic #tdatt

685 notes · View notes

eliselovely · 3 years

Text

Canine Matchmaker

Words: 2819

Warnings: p in v sex, oral (f receiving), they don’t really know each other in this, stranger danger irl but this is fiction

New Years Eve night was usually a night spent with friends, getting drunk and eating way too much snack food while waiting for midnight. Not for you though, you were happy to make yourself dinner, pour yourself a glass of wine and cuddle up on the couch with your dog to watch movies. The first two steps of that plan had gone well, and you had just let Basil, your pitbull shelter dog outside. You wait a few minutes before checking on her, she usually finishes her business pretty quickly in the winter time, not wanting to stay out in the cold for too long. However, tonight she was taking longer than usual. Going over to your patio door, you look around your backyard but you don’t see her.

“Basil, come here girl!” you call for her, stepping outside. You take a moment to listen for the jingling of her collar but you don’t hear anything. “Basil come!” Again nothing.

There was a snowstorm that was just beginning, and you were starting to fear that she had gotten out of the yard. If that was the truth, then you’d be in for a stressful night. The temperature outside was hovering around freezing, which meant that the roads would be coated with slick ice and the holiday meant that it was unlikely that the city would send out many plows. If you were going to drive in search of Basil, it had to be soon. Triple checking the yard, just in case, you find the fence gate slightly ajar, the last piece of evidence you needed to be sure you were making the right decision to get in your car.

“Fuck,” you grumble, going back inside to get your purse and keys. Donning a pair of snow boots and a heavy coat you head out to your car.

As almost an afterthought, you text a few of your neighbors to see if they’d keep an eye out for her. Driving slowly, you start to circle the neighborhood, going block by block making sure to be careful around corners, the roads getting more and more slippery by the minute. Visibility was also rapidly decreasing as the heavy snow continued to fall. You had just started to panic when you got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” you answer, trying to keep your voice from shaking in panic.

“Hi,” comes a male voice, “I think I found your dog, this number was on her collar.”

“Yes! Oh my god, is she ok?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah, she was shivering pretty badly, but I gave her some water and she’s settled on my couch under a blanket.” the man said.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe out. “Can you text me your address so I can come pick her up?”

“Definitely,” he confirms. “Drive safe, it’s getting pretty bad out there.”

“Thank you,” you say and hang up.

As soon as the man’s text comes through with his address, you punch it into google maps and you’re on your way. You pull up to your destination a few minutes later, a quiet stretch of townhomes just a few miles from your home. You sent him a quick ‘I’m here’ text and hurried up to the front door. The man who answers your knock had to be the most attractive man you had seen in real life, and in other circumstances, you would have flirted.

“Hi,” he greets. “Please, come in. Basil is in the living room, she’s pretty worn out.”

Kicking the snow off your boots, you step inside. As if she could sense your presence, Basil comes trotting into the entryway causing you to drop to your knees, giving your previously lost companion as much affection as you could.

“Hi baby,” you say to her, turning your head away from her attempts to lick your face. “Hi, yes thank you, I missed you too. You worried me naughty girl.”

You hear the man chuckle lightly at your one sided conversation, you had almost forgotten he was there.

“Thank you so much for taking care of her,” you say, standing up again to face him.

“Absolutely no problem. I’m Frankie by the way, Frankie Morales,” he says, offering a hand for you to shake.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself in return. The two of you make small talk for a short while, and when you do leave, you find the snow storm has picked up considerably, roughly an inch and a half of fresh, wet snow.

“Shit,” you breathe. “Driving is going to suck.”

“If you want,” Frankie starts, “if you want, you can wait it out here and see if it lets up a bit, the plows will be out soon and make driving a whole lot easier.”

“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” you say. “But I am going to send my location to some friends just in case you’re a psycho or something.”

Frankie chuckles again. “I’d expect nothing less. You want a drink or something?

The two of you end up in his living room, chatting easily and flirting over a few beers, Basil comfortably dozing between you. Your thoughts start to wander to what you would do if you had met Frankie at a bar, how you probably would have chatted him up, or maybe he would have beaten you to it. You don’t realize you’ve zoned out until you hear his voice, calling you back to the present.

“Hey, you still with me?” he asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say. “Just got lost in thought is all.”

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“Not to answer a question with a question, but can I say something sort of forward?”

“Shoot.”

“You can totally stop me if I’m overstepping, feel free to kick me out if yo-.”

“Hermosa, what is it?”

You take a second to pluck up the rest of your courage, flushing at the nickname he called you.

“If we had met at a bar, I would have invited you home with me,” you confess, flicking your eyes up to meet his heavy gaze.

“Oh yeah?” he encourages, obviously knowing exactly what he was doing. “What would we have done?”

“I would have had you fuck me until I couldn’t walk,” you say bluntly, leaving the pleasantries until you had your response. Frankie didn’t respond at first, just took a sip of his beer never breaking eye contact.

“And what about here?” he finally says. “What if I were to invite you upstairs so I could do just that?”

“Well then, I think I’d tell you to show me a damn good time,” you say.

Frankie slowly leans forward to set his beer on the coffee table, taking yours from your grasp and doing the same. He stood in front of you, offering his hand to help you up. His touch is gentle as he places a large hand on the side of your cheek, taking a small step closer as he presses his lips to yours. You had barely a moment to bask in the feel before the two of you were being startled apart by Basil letting out a particularly loud snort in her sleep.

“I think that’s her way of telling us to get a room,” you joke, giggling lightly.

“If you say so,” he says, and before you have a chance to comprehend what he said, you are being swept off your feet into his arms, one strong arm around your back and the other under your knees. He gives you another quick kiss before starting up the stairs, presumably towards his bedroom.

He gently sets you down on the soft down comforter, giving you the first real kiss of the night. One you can truly take your time to enjoy, it’s slow and passionate, but with an undercurrent of obvious lust. You feel his tongue swipe at your bottom lip, politely asking for permission to do more. You gladly open for him, loving the taste of his mouth.

“Frankie,” you moan into his mouth, your brain no longer being able to form full thoughts.

“You want more Hermosa?” he asks, hands sliding down to caress and squeeze your breast making you arch into his touch. “Yeah?”

“Please,” you whine, embarrassed at how desperate you sound.

“Alright Sweetheart, I’ll give you more,” he promises, pulling you upright again to pull your sweatshirt over your head and tossing it somewhere to be found later. “My god you’re gorgeous,” he says running his hands across your bare skin, reaching around you to unclasp your bra. He lays you back down again, attaching his warm mouth to one of your nipples, his fingers pinching the other one.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe out.

You feel his grin against your skin, delighting in giving you pleasure. Pulling his mouth off with a pop, he moves further down, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off along with your panties.

“Damn, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he says.

“I know a better use for that motor mouth of yours,” you tease in a moment of clarity. You hold his gaze as you slide your legs open further, exposing your dripping core to him.

“So fucking sexy,” he all but moans.

Leaning down again, he kisses your lips, and from there leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down your chest and abdomen. Placing a kiss to each thigh, sending you a wink before licking a thick stripe through your folds up to your clit, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, his short facial hair scraping against your inner thighs.

“Ah, yes Frankie,” you moan.

Without warning, he sinks his index finger into your pussy causing your hips to buck up into his mouth in response. You card your fingers through his hair and hold him tightly to your sensitive heat, your moans growing louder as he continued. Frankie adds another finger, hooking them upwards and stroking your g spot.

“Right there!” you exclaim. “Fuck, right there.”

Frankie chuckles against your cunt, the vibrations just adding to the pleasure he was giving you. The familiar coil in your core was growing ever tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“I’m close,” you warn in between breaths.

“Cum for me Hermosa,” Frankie groans against your clit, sucking even harder and pumping his fingers even faster.

The coil in your belly snaps and you cum on his fingers, letting out a loud, lewd moan as you do. He pulls fingers out of you, licking one more long stripe through your folds.

“You taste so good Hermosa,” he praises, kissing up your body reaching your mouth yet again. You love tasting your release on his lips.

“Frankie,” you say, desperate to feel him inside of you. “Frankie, fuck me please.”

“As you wish Hermosa,” he grants. “You want to ride me?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Oh my fuck yes!”

Frankie chuckles again and stands to undress himself. His golden skin glowed in the lamp light, the small dusting of hair on his chest looked soft to the touch and you couldn’t wait to run your hands across his skin. You let your eyes wander downwards as he strips his pants away, a dark, well groomed happy trail leading to his substantial cock. You feel your pussy clench at the thought of having it inside you.

“You like what you see Hermosa?” he says with a sly smile.

“Dear god yes,” you say almost in a whine.

He grabs a condom from the bedside table and rolls it on before settling on the bed. Once he is ready you sling one leg over his abdomen, straddling him. It is your turn to lean down to kiss him, the remnants of your cum still detectable on his tongue. You pull away and reach behind you to line his cock up with your entrance, slowly sinking down onto it. The two of you groan in tandem at the feel of it, the stretch of his cock inside of you dancing on the line between pain and pleasure.

“You’re so tight Hermosa,” he praises, “so warm.”

You moan at his words, grinding your hips down against him. Bracing your hands on his chest, you start to bounce at a steady pace, Frankie’s hands on your hips helping to guide you as you take your pleasure. His resolve is straining as he resists the urge to fuck up into you, not wanting this to be over too quickly. He slides a hand up to cup one of your tits, the other moving to rub your clit, hoping to coax another orgasm out of you.

“Come on baby,” he groans. “Cum on my cock.”

You clench around him as you cum again, your nails digging into his skin leaving crescent shaped marks. His fingers rubbing lazy circles on your clit as you come down from your high, your fluttering walls providing the perfect sheath for Frankie’s rock hard member. Collapsing against his chest, you press your lips against his, happy to explore his mouth with your tongue. After a few moments, he bucks his hips up into you a few times before flipping you onto your back, careful not to let his cock slip free.

“You ready for more Hermosa?” he asks.

You nod, not trusting your mouth to work well enough to form words after two intense orgasms. He starts slow, savoring the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around him. He steadily builds up his pace until he’s fucking you with reckless abandon, one hand squeezes your tit, the other arm braced above your head, his weight resting on his forearm as his hand stroked your hair. You felt yet another orgasm building as he slammed his hips into yours, he was grunting in pleasure with every thrust.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum again,” you gasp.

“Do it,” he orders. “I’m close too.”

His cock hits that perfect spot inside you once, twice, three times and you’re sent hurtling over the edge, clenching down hard on his cock. As his hips start to falter, you’re hit by a wonderful thought.

“Frankie,” you moan.

“Yes Hermosa?” he replies, breathless and panting.

“I want you to cum on my tits,” you confess.

He answers you not with words, but rather with a loud groan and a quick searing kiss. He pulls out of you and tears the condom of his weeping length, stroking it rapidly as he positions himself over you. Reaching up, you place your hand over his, helping to bring him to climax.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hot cum shooting out to land on your tits and chest. You look up with a large smile on your face, your thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand, both of you still trying to catch your breath.

“That was amazing,” you pant.

“Mmm, to say the least,” he says, his voice almost at a whisper. “I’ll be right back to clean you up Hermosa.”

You hum in response, contentedly laying on his large bed. He comes back with a warm washcloth, gently dragging it over your skin cleaning away his release from your chest and yours from between your thighs. Before returning to the bathroom to return the washcloth, he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gorgeous,” he states.

A chill washes over you and you are suddenly hyper aware of Frankie’s missing body heat. Rolling off the bed, you spot your discarded sweatshirt near the edge of the bed. Just the few steps it takes you to reach the piece of clothing shows you just how sore you are, and how much more you would be later. The thought makes you smile as you pull your sweatshirt over your head.

Frankie reenters the bedroom soon after, still gloriously naked.

“Hi,” you mumbled into the kiss he gave you.

“Hi,” he responds. “The snow is still coming down pretty heavily, and it doesn’t look like the plows have been out. So it looks like you and Basil are going to be stuck here tonight.”

“Worse things have happened,” you joke. “Do you have a pair of sweatpants I could borrow for the night?”

“I’m sure I can find something for you.”

He goes to his closet then, pulling on a pair of boxers and a shirt before digging out a pair of sweatpants before tossing them to you. As you pull on your discarded panties and his much too large sweatpants, you hear the jingle of Basil’s collar as she comes up the stairs.

“She’s quite the matchmaker,” Frankie laughs.

“To say the least,” you giggle, squatting down next to your canine companion.

“Hey,” Frankie says, pointing at the clock on his bedside table.

“Happy New Year,” the two of you say simultaneously, laughing at the absurdity of tonight’s situation.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales

60 notes · View notes

taehyungsgrowl · 3 years

Text

Illicit Affairs IV - Duncan Shepherd x Fem!Reader

{gif by @ansonmount}

hey babies! it has been a while! but i have finally gotten enough brain cells to write part four of illicit affairs!

big thank you to @desertsunflower00 for pointing me in the direction i wanted the story to go to after being stuck ily amiga!

also.... this was not the ending i thought i was gonna give when i started writing it but my heart led me to this so

i hope you all enjoy!!! and thank you so much for being so patient!

I've had so so much fun and heartache writing for this story.

please let me know what you think!!!

the first 3 parts are linked here!

Illicit Affairs Part I

Illicit Affairs Part II

Illicit Affairs Part III

word count: 5.9 k

as always! not proofread! italics are for memories!

(also really hope the italics copied correctly from google docs!)

Emma’s head was pounding. With each sob she felt the pain strike her heart.

Duncan was her world. She couldn’t imagine… couldn’t even think of what her life would be like without him. He was the one who lit up even her darkest days - always being that rock that held her together.

All the years they’d been together, she never had reason to think Duncan didn’t feel the same way. She thought he was enough for him…

A message from her friend pinged her phone, making her acknowledge the time.

God, she wanted to scream again. She didn’t know whether to believe if he was really at his office.

Lost. Alone. She didn’t know what to do. The one person she knew could make her feel loved was now the person causing her the most pain.

Emma tried to get herself off the floor, but what was the point. She didn't see a rhyme or reason to it when she didn’t know what to do.

She didn’t know where he was.

She didn’t know what she’d say to him if he was.

And she felt like she had nowhere to go.

So she laid on her closet floor, clutching the nearest shirt of his she could reach and stained his shirt with her tears. Her tears would soon dry and disappear from the fabric, but the lip print on his collar would be painful to remove both from his shirt and her mind.

While Duncan waited for Y/N to finish in the bathroom, he checked his phone and saw a message that had come in from Emma. Guilt clouded every emotion he had. It overtook the anxiety he felt of the what ifs with Y/N. It encompassed him completely.

Missing you x, she sent with a picture of their dog.

He’d been gone for longer than he anticipated and knew she must be getting worried. He took a deep breath, trying to ease himself.

He was doing this for her.

Y/N’s nerves bubbled up in her stomach, but she couldn’t stall much longer.

“Are you okay?” Duncan asked right at the door.

She knew looking at the results would then seal her fate with Duncan - one way or another.

“Yup! Just a minute.” she got up and held on to the edge of the sink before splashing her face with cold water. “You can do this,” she whispered to herself.

Y/N picked up the test and held her breath.

Not pregnant.

As relief washed over her she couldn’t deny the tiny part of her that hoped she was -- as selfish as it was, she didn’t think Duncan wouldn’t leave her if she was.

Y/N walked out of the bathroom, negative test in hand, to a Duncan who nervously paced her living room.

“It’s fine, Duncan. I’m not pregnant.” She pretended not to care when she saw his shoulders finally relax since he’d heard of the possibility of it being true.

He clapped his hands together nervously. Duncan hadn’t realized how sweaty his palms were in the short time waiting. “Okay,” he nodded. “Okay - I… How are you feel-”

“Stop.” she interrupted him. “We don’t have to do this.” Although normally seeing Duncan in her apartment always filled her with a sense of warmth - it was the illusion of having a life with him - when she saw him now, he seemed out of place. He didn’t belong there no matter how much she wanted to force that piece there.

He frowned, studying her expressions, “I came because last time we spoke -”

Y/N interrupted him again, “I know why you’re here. You think you can clear your conscious by telling me how fucking special I am,” she rolled her eyes. “We don’t need to do all that.” If she had any doubts about the way he felt before - they were made clear now.

And while she felt she had a million things left unsaid to him, she didn’t feel like she owed him that. “You’re good. We’re good. I just want to shower and move on. So I’d appreciate it if you quit calling and showing up.”

Just let me go.... She wanted to scream.

Duncan was driving back home from Y/N’s apartment and while he had so many thoughts racing in his head - for the first time in a long time, he felt lighter. As difficult as it’s been to part ways with Y/N, he knew that it was the right decision. He’d finally have a chance to do things right by Emma.

“I’m home, baby!” Duncan called out, hanging his keys by the door. The house felt cold and a shiver ran down his spine.

He walked into their bedroom looking for his wife and saw the door of their walk-in closet jarred open. When he opened the door he saw Emma curled into the fetal position asleep, holding his shirt with Captain snuggled up on her side.

She had tired herself out from crying and fell asleep waiting for his return.

Duncan’s heart rate spiked, thinking she’d been hurt or something happened. “Emma!” he fell to his knees, placing the back of his hand on her forehead, feeling for a temperature. “Baby, wake up,” he cooed, until he saw her eyes flutter open.

And for the fraction of a second between unconsciousness and consciousness, she got lost in the blue of his eyes all over again. For that fraction of a second it was like waking up to him that very first night they spent together.

“Hold still,” Duncan laughed, his fingers delicately brushed over Emma’s face until he got the eyelash that was in danger of going into her eye. “There,” he showed her the lash stuck to his thumb.

“Thank you,” she licked her lips, her eyes glancing down at Duncan’s pink lips.

“Wait,” he grabbed her wrist with his other hand, “Press your thumb to mine - and whoever the lash sticks to gets to make a wish,” he explained the silly ritual. It was something one of his nannies had taught him and it always stuck with him. He loved how he could be like this with Emma… soft… vulnerable. He’s sure very little people actually knew this side of him.

Sure, they’d only been dating for a little bit now, but Duncan was more than sure that she was the love of his life.

“What?” she laughed, her voice like music to his ears.

“Trust me,” he smiled when she pressed her thumb to his. “Okay, ready? One… two… three.” They each pulled their digits away from each other and took a look. The lash was gone from Duncan’s thumb and Emma was smiling like a child with it pressed on her skin.

“What do I do now?” she giggled.

“Make a wish and then drop the eyelash into your shirt.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes trying to keep a very serious face, but Duncan could see the smile tugging on her lips. “Done.” she dropped the lash into her shirt.

“Well… what was the wish?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you that!”

“I never said that was a rule!!” he argued back.

“That's a basic wish rule,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs criss crossed on his couch. “You can’t say what you wished for!”

“I’m taking the wish back if you won’t tell me,” Duncan tried to look stern, but his lopsided smile gave it away. He adjusted on the couch and pushed her down until he was hovering over her. His fingers started to tickle her sides, making the bottom of her shirt ride up.

She was in a fit of laughter begging him to stop. She found herself grabbing the back of his head and tugging his hair down to have his face just inches away from her own. Duncan’s fingers stopped tickling her, but his hand snuck inside her shirt, feeling her softness.

Everything froze for a moment when she stared into his eyes that way. He looked at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars. She never wanted to stop looking into the safety of his eyes.

She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting and focusing back on Duncan’s. After that split second had passed, she sat up and shoved his chest, trying to make him give her space.

Duncan furrowed his brows, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Emma backed away from him, eyes prickling with tears again. She picked up his stained shirt - what once was her favorite, got closer to him and shoved it into his chest, “F-fucking asshole!” she finally let herself sob again. She felt so weak when her forehead fell against his chest and her balled up fists rested against him.

Entirely confused, Duncan wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to get her to look at him. He hadn’t gotten a chance to examine the shirt she handed him.

Emma felt herself melting into his hold, but stopped herself. She took his arms and removed them from her waist, taking a step back, “Don’t touch me.”

“No…” Duncan let out under his breath, seeing the lipstick mark, “No,” he said louder, “No, honey, I can explain.” He reached his hand out to touch her but she flinched at his approach.

His warm “honey” had a cold stare behind her tears. He couldn’t imagine what she could be feeling… She was never supposed to find out.

A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I love you. No one else but you.” his voice cracked.

“Get out.” she sniffled, wanting so desperately to be strong.

“Let me explain!” he felt his knees wanting to give out and his head started to spin. This couldn’t be happening. He asked her to let him explain but he didn’t know if he even had a good reason to give her.

For a moment, he saw her face soften. A result of seeing the sick look on his face - she still felt the urge to hold him, to kiss him.

He took the chance at her moment of softness and continued, “It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

“Maybe we should back up for a minute if you really want to explain.” she wiped her cheeks, “Let’s start with an easy one, no? What’s on that shirt, Dunc?”

“Baby…” it felt like a kick to the gut.

“I’ll help you out,” she continued, “Who’s lipstick is on your shirt?”

“It was a stupid mistake, Emma. I promise.” he pleaded.

“No, Dunc. A mistake is when I accidentally add too much salt to a recipe or leave my coffee mug on top of my car before I pull out of the driveway.” her voice lowers again, “I trusted you.”

“How long?” she took a deep breath. “And please don’t bother lying.”

“Six months.” he hung his head in shame.

No. No. No.

Emma thought she wanted to know the truth but… hearing it from his voice that this had been going on far longer than she imagined broke her heart all over again.

“Six months,” she repeated. “You’ve been fucking some whores for six months. God I’m so fucking stupid,” she groaned. She raised her hand to the pole that held all of Duncan’s clothes in the closet and slid them off, throwing them to the ground in frustration.

“It was never more than one.” he tried to defend himself.

“Because that makes it so much better!!!” she laughed humorlessly. “Get out! Get out!” she tossed his clothes at him until he backed out of the closet.

Even if it broke her again, she wanted to know the reason why. But it couldn’t be today. She could barely stand to look at him and with everything that came out his mouth - just ending up cutting her more and more.

“I love you,” Duncan dropped to his knees and crawled to her until he could wrap his arms around her legs. “If we can both calm down and talk-”

“I don’t need to calm down,” she cried.

In all his years spent with Emma - he’d never seen her so upset and it killed him to know he was the reason for it. Maybe it was his selfishness taking over again, but he couldn’t lose her - couldn’t let her go.

They’d almost been inseparable from the moment they met. Attached at the hip. Always in sync.

Duncan was in his home office, typing away on his laptop. His glasses were low on his face and he wore a white t-shirt and his plaid pajama pants.

Emma had been trying to get him to bed for the past hour, but he was really busy with the project he’d been working on.

She came back into his office ready for bed. She wore one of his old college sweatshirts and rubbed her eyes. “Almost done?” she yawned.

“Almost,” Duncan didn’t look up from his screen.

Emma lingered by the door, not wanting to go to bed without Duncan by her side. Duncan felt her at the door and looked up, pushing his glasses back. He knew how much she loved sleeping in his old sweatshirt at this point he considered it hers.

“C’mere,” he rolled back his chair, “You can sit in my lap until I’m done working.” he smiled, patting his thigh.

She hurried to his desk and curled up on his lap. She loved being close to him. Just feeling his breathing, taking in his scent, feeling his hands absently wander up and down her body.

Her legs hung off the side of his chair and her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, but Duncan kept her steady with his arm around her waist.

And he could stay like that for hours - feeling her close as he finishes reading over reports for his app. She was like a life size stress reliever for him. Just by having her touching him, pressing little kisses along his jaw… melted away his stress.

When she looked down at Duncan on his knees for her, she still saw the man she loved. She wasn’t sure she’d ever feel that way about someone again.

“Baby, honey,” he cried, “I’ll never stop making it up to you just please,” his forehead pressed into her thigh, “Don’t leave me.”

“I-if you won’t leave - I will,” she stepped out of his grasp. “I can’t think straight right now. I… I’m so hurt,” her voice broke with the last word.

“I’m going to my moms house…” she spoke out loud, guiding herself through the plan. “I can’t be here. I can’t even look at you.”

Duncan begged her to stay. He told her if anyone should be forced to leave the home it should be him - he was the one who screwed up. But she couldn’t stand being in the place that has brought them so many happy memories.

That night, Emma stayed in her childhood room. Although she had outgrown it over the years, the whole situation made her feel small. She curled up under her yellow bed sheets and stared at her phone each time it lit up with another text from Duncan.

Duncan tossed and turned in his empty bed. In his sleep, his arms searched for his Emma, coming up empty every time.

“Em?” her mother woke her up gently, “It’s been five days of just sulking around and ignoring calls. You need to get up, sweetheart.”

Her mother softly pulled her covers down. “Maybe you can get dressed and we can go for a coffee,” concern clouded her voice.

Emma didn’t say anything - just stared at her ceiling. “Duncan came by why you were sleeping,” her mom continued. His name was the only word she’d responded to; she looked at her mom with tears in her eyes.

“I told him you weren’t available to talk…” She handed her daughter her glasses off the nightstand.

She put her glasses on her face and slowly sat up in the bed. Her mom was right - she’d been avoiding everyone; avoiding Duncan for too long now. She slowly nodded, feeling her body drag out of bed.

The hot water that almost burned her skin in the shower suddenly turned frigid. The warm embrace evaporating away. Her heart was growing tired of the things she loved leaving her reach.

After a day of blurred nothingness, her heart was finally pounding a million beats per second, staring at the door of her home. As familiar as it was, it didn’t feel like home anymore.

With a shaky hand, her fingertip pressed deeply into the doorbell.

12:46 am - Although Duncan should have been asleep he found himself the same way he had since Emma left; sad and alone.

He pulled on an old pair of sweats, his hair in messy curls with a few strands in his face - even his stubble had gotten a little scruffier.

“Emma,” his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Seeing her again finally made him feel like he could breathe again. “You’re home,” he tried to reach for her, but saw the way her entire body tensed up at his advancement.

“Stop,” she shook her head, her heart couldn’t handle having to reject him. She was holding on by a thread. “We need to talk.”

Four months later:

Y/N smiled in the sleepy state between dreaming and being conscious as she felt strong arms pulling her closer. His large hands pressed on her stomach, slowly inching up her shirt. At the same time, she felt his lips softly pressing into her shoulder.

“Morning,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed.

“Morning, princess,” he rolled over and pinned her below him. She met his kind, unclouded gaze. Not a trace of guilt behind his eyes - he was solely happy to be hers.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “You want chocolate chip or blueberry pancakes today?” he nuzzled the tip of his nose with her, making her break a smile.

“Both?” she bit her lip.

“Oh my god,” he playfully rolled his eyes before kissing her, “You’re absolutely spoiled, darling.” He started getting out of bed, pulling his sweats that were discarded on the floor. Y/N stared in awe at the strong muscles of his bare back. She loved running her fingers over the smoothness of his skin, leaving invisible idle patterns or semi-permanent marks of her fingernails scratching down.

There was peace knowing she never had to share him. With him, she didn’t have to sacrifice bits of her happiness.

With one last kiss, he stepped out of the room to take a quick shower before starting breakfast. It’d become sort of a ritual for them; Sundays were for Y/N to sleep in and for him to make her breakfast. They’d later fold their laundry together and watch movies.

Her phone buzzed too loudly on the nightstand for her to ignore. “Hello?” she picked up the call, her eyes still closed.

“Y/N?” her heart came to a halt. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Her name dripped from his lips like molasses; warm and sickeningly sweet.

“Y/N, it 's me, Duncan.”

After a brief pause, Y/N let out a deep breath. She was fine. When Duncan left her apartment almost five months ago, she didn’t know what it would be like the next time she saw him. They’d left so much unsaid, but it was better this way. She wanted to be done. And while there were nights she thought she’d never stop missing him, the soft ache in her heart started to fade.

She was relearning what it meant to love someone who could give her what she wanted; what she deserved. No longer did she feel shameful - kept like a dirty secret.

Late night meet ups in dark parking lots with Duncan turned into proudly holding hands with someone who wanted the world to see the way he felt about her.

Quick fucks that left her feeling empty as Duncan hurried to leave her apartment to go home to his wife turned into her boyfriend spending the night to make her breakfast in the morning.

Things were never as bad as she anticipated. There was a part of her that was proud of not feeling fazed by Duncan’s call.

“I…” Duncan continued when she didn’t speak, “I mi- I’m sorry,” she could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose as he stumbled over his words, “How are you?”

“I am doing really well, Duncan,” her tone was sincere without a trace of bitterness. If there was one thing Duncan did right, was give her his final piece of advice - when he told her she deserves someone who could make her happy.

“Emma… filed for divorce.” he coughed to cover up any anxiety in his voice.

“We need to talk,” Emma told him before stepping into the house. Duncan still replayed that night over and over in his head wishing and attempting to bargain with anyone that would listen to turn back time.

Duncan sat beside her at their small kitchen table; they always talked about getting a bigger one when they’re little family started to grow, but it was perfect for just the two of them. Countless mornings sipping coffee with the comfort of the other’s company were spent at their little table.

“I need you to know how much you hurt me, Duncan.” Duncan couldn’t recall the last time Emma had called him Duncan. He was her babe, her baby, her honey, her Dunc. A few nights ago, when she left - as angry as she was, through all the tears and screams she still called him Dunc. Hearing his full name fall from her lips with distaste made him realize things were changing.

The more Emma listened to Duncan recounting his inexcusable reasons the more upset she became. Silent tears strolled down her face as he explained over and over that he didn’t even have a real reason why because that meant there was nothing she could have done to keep it from happening.

“Do you love her?” Emma interrupted him. If there were any hope for them, Emma knew it would be in his answer.

“Baby - that’s over. I’ll never see her again,” and with the absence of a ‘no,’ Duncan sealed his fate.

She winced, internally accepting the end.

Duncan had a harder time really accepting it was over. A few weeks after that night, Duncan was served with paperwork for the divorce. He hated the word; it felt heavy on his tongue.

He didn’t want to make the process miserable for Emma; the least she deserved was to be able to leave him without so much legal jargon in the way, entangling an already large mess.

But lawyers do what they do best.

His attorney ‘friends’ squeezed pretty dime after pretty dime out of Duncan.

“She found out. About us,” Y/N imagined all of the awful things his life must have thought about her. “A couple months ago, really,” Duncan couldn’t stop talking.

“Why are you telling me this? And why are you telling me this now?” her boyfriend’s shower was still running and she was thankful to have the privacy for this conversation.

“She’s really left. I don’t know what to do. I miss her. I miss you,” he looked out at the skyline from his downtown condo; a place that could never feel like a home. A bachelor pad with a sad bachelor. Could a divorce candidate be considered a bachelor?

“I’m sorry,” she didn’t know what else to offer to that, “I did what you said,” she continued after a moment of silence. “I found someone who could give me what I needed. I’m happy, Duncan. I didn’t think I’d ever be happy like I am now after you - and I don’t mean this to rub it in, I just mean,” she searched for the right words, “I know it feels like you’ll never be happy again without that certain person, but there will be time when you will. I know you love her a lot. I can see that now and I could see it then. I’m sorry for the part I played in all this.”

They were both moving on without him. Not that he could blame them; he’d made them both sacrifice parts of themselves so he could be selfish.

“I’m sorry for calling,” Duncan grimaced. “I really hope he treats you well, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, “And Duncan,�� she chewed on her bottom lip, “Take care, okay?”

“You too.”

One year later:

A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead as she huffed, setting the last of the boxes down by the front door. An entire year had passed and Emma had clung on to the final memories of her marriage. Things were different now and as much as she still found herself yearning for what she once had, she knew this was how things needed to be.

“Think we’ve got most of it now,” he came around the corner with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand he kept from being put up.

“How are you feeling?” Duncan asked, pouring her a generous amount before handing her the glass.

“Nervous,” she laughed, “scared,” she admitted.

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth in the way it always was when she had more to say. Duncan couldn’t help but smile until his eyes crinkled; as happy as he was for her, he couldn’t wrap his mind about her leaving.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head, “You’re gonna do great. I don’t know anyone smarter, more qualified, more perfect for the job,” he encouraged.

“Not just about that,” she admitted. She sat on the floor of her empty living room and Duncan joined her, filling his own glass. “Moving. Being so far - starting over,” she sighed and took a long sip of her wine.

“Dunc,” she shook her head, “We grew up in this house. We loved in this house. Fought and made up,” she laughed.

“What’re we doing?” she kissed him as he pushed her into the house, hands fumbling all over each other.

“Don’t think about it,” he groaned against her lips, pressing her against the wall and hiking her up. “Just.. don’t think,”

“Mm, not here,” she sighed, feeling his hand wander up her dress, caressing the inside of her thigh. “The bed.. Our bed..” her voice was shaky as his skilled fingers brushed over her panties. She missed this. Missed him.

With signed divorce papers forgotten, Duncan tossed her on the bed and climbed over her, never letting his lips leave her skin. Savoring every moment she let him have with her. He didn’t know if she’d regret it in the morning. If she would hate him more than she did before, but she was giving him this now and he wanted to take it in. He wanted to memorize her taste as if it would be the last time.

He kissed down the hills of her breasts and hiked her dress past her thighs, dipping his head down to kiss along her inner thighs. “Emma,” he breathed her name like it was his final breath.

Duncan hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, “Up.”

She raised her hips and he slid them off her legs in one quick movement. He wasted no time - he swiped his tongue along her wetness, immediately moaning at the feeling of having her on his tongue.

Two of his fingers plunged into her, slowly pumping in and out of her while his pouty lips wrapped around her clit. Those lips she loved. The same lips that formed into her favorite smile; the ones that kissed her like the most delicate flower in the world; the ones that held his tongue that massaged her just like that.

Like muscle memory taking over her, her fingers laced themselves in strands of honey brown hair - pulling with the way he was making her feel.

“Dunc!” she almost screamed, feeling his dexterous curl and brush against her g-spot.

“Gonna cum,” her legs wrapped around him, her thighs closing around his face.

Duncan didn’t stop. He kept going. Wet open-mouthed kisses on her pussy, letting a trail of saliva and cum drag from his lips. He peeked up to watch her with a wet mouth before licking them clean.

He tried to hold her still as she finished, not letting his lips leave her center. He cleaned up every bit of cum with his tongue before he sponged kisses along her twitching thighs as she came down from the high he’d given her.

Duncan climbed on top of her again, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. There was comfort in the scratchy tickles of his beard on her soft skin.

She held him, softly running her fingers through his hair until she was ready.

While she didn’t plan on thinking that night, there was a part of her that knew this would be the last time they’d ever be like this again. She shook the thought away. For selfish reasons, she didn’t want it to ruin the night.

“Fuck me,” like it’s the last time, she thought.

And he did.

Their teeth clashed together with desperate kisses as he buried himself inside of her. As close as they were - they wanted to be closer.

Duncan’s stomach tightened, feeling himself twitch inside her. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock for his cum.

“Fuck,” she sighed against his lips. “Feels so good.”

“Missed this… missed you, baby,” he rut his hips against hers. He took her hands and pinned them above her head, staring into her eyes with a dazed out smile.

Duncan didn’t dare think about it the next morning. He wished it’d never come.

But it did… it always did.

By the time Duncan woke up from his Emma filled dreams, she was lying awake with nothing but the sheet covering her.

“Uh hey,” Duncan offered, trying to get a feel of the room. Maybe he was still in a blissed out state of mind, but he didn’t feel a sense of regret lingering between them.

“Hi,” she laughed, turning to face him. “About last night…” she tried to read his expressions.

“I missed that. In all honesty, I miss you.” Duncan couldn’t dare to move, afraid if he did he would wake up from a dream. “I don’t think… we need to stop being friends. You’ve always been my best friend.” Which was true. The months leading up to the divorce were miserable - for both of them. “I… don’t think we can continue doing this,” she gestured between their naked bodies. “I don’t want that - I can’t handle going back to how things were, but I miss my friend.”

Duncan would take having her in his life in any capacity she allowed.

Of course, what they had couldn’t be recreated. But they did their best to be good friends to each other. Emma was tired of feeling like a victim of betrayal. She wanted to move on and not feel heavy from that anymore.

Duncan would come over on occasion for dinner or they’d go for a walk. As much as he wanted more, he wouldn’t push her - he couldn’t.

And like a good friend, Duncan was helping her pack up her belongings from the house they called their home so she could move hours away from him. The small sliver of time he’d see her was now being taken away, but he couldn’t keep her from going.

“I’m scared of being away from you,” she looked over at those familiar eyes that would always be home to her. “You’ve been the one constant in my life - good or bad - and you’ll be so far,” her eyes started to wet with tears.

Duncan took her hands in his, “I won’t ask you to stay. As much as I want you to stay with every fiber of my being - I can’t ask that of you. What I can ask is this,” he paused and looked into her eyes, “do you want to go?”

“Yes,” she answered, keeping his stare.

He smiled and hoped it met his eyes, “Em, I’ll always be here. Near or far. I’ll always love you. You know that.” And he meant the words in ways she didn’t know.

“I know,” she whispered, “I love you too.” Duncan wanted her to mean it in the way he did, but he knew better.

“Change is good, right?”

“Change is scary - but good,” Duncan tried to affirm her.

As much as everything around them could change, one thing would remain true; Emma was the love of his life. There would always be a part of him that wished he didn’t mess up the best thing that happened to him.

But there was a time he thought she’d never speak to him again and they found themselves back to each other. He wasn’t holding his breath for more to happen, but wishful thinking kept him going.

Duncan hoped she wouldn’t ask him to take her to the airport because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that goodbye.

Her last few days in town were so busy, Duncan hardly got a chance to see her. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and stared out his view.

Emma was leaving the next morning and he hadn’t had a chance of a real goodbye.

What he didn’t know was that Emma found herself at his apartment door. Her stomach was tied in knots over the anxiety of it all.

Duncan opened the door after a soft knock.

Emma.

“Hi,”

“Hi” as confused as he was, he was also so happy she came.

“I just came to say bye,” she bit her lip in that way Duncan was too familiar with. He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.

“Do you want to come in?” he moved out of the doorframe to let her in.

“I shouldn’t,” but she took a step forward.

“Tomorrow’s the day,” she sighed, nervously fidgeting with her clothes.

“Getting cold feet?” he joked.

“Didn't have cold feet when I married you, not getting cold feet now,” she laughed, cheeks burning hot.

“I just really came to see you before I left,”

“I’m glad you did. I have something for you. Wait here,” he rushed to his bedroom to get his college sweatshirt she loved. She made him take it when they split up. He’s never worn it since she used to - that was hers and she should have it.

“Dunc,” she smiled, taking the sweatshirt he handed her. “Thank you,” she hugged him.

She hugged him and didn’t let go. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing in her familiar scent, and just held her.

“I have to go,” she mumbled against his shoulder without making an effort to move.

“I know,” he squeezed her harder, making her laugh.

They eventually let each other go for their final goodbye.

“Promise you’ll call?”

“Of course,” she promised. She reached up to grab his face, giving him a kiss on his cheek, “Bye, honey,” she said softly in his ear.

tagging:

@xavierplympton @thatonehumanbeing05 @plsfuckmelangdon @ntxoza @quillanpie @bloodcoatedeclipse @kitty4860 @welcometothelioncage @angelicmichael @silky-luxe @lady-jane-revisited @ritualmichael @feralthoughtdump @bitchchatter @wroteclassicaly @langdonswhoreprobably @devilish-hecate @thatspookyagent @dark-mei-rose @lovelylangdonx @fckinsupreme @littledemondani @brattylovee @ferndolan @dhampiravidi @7-wonders @melodylangdon @allytrap @luciahoneychurch @moriatysringtone7173

#im sorry yall i got real soft w this #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd x emma #illicit affairs #duncan shepherd angst #duncan shepherd fan fic #hoc #house of cards #cody fern #andy dolan

114 notes · View notes

diavohno · 4 years

Text

peccant pt.1

▹ pairing: lucifer x fem!reader, mammon x fem!reader, leviathan x fem!reader, satan x fem!reader, asmodeus x fem!reader, beelzebub x fem!reader, belphegor x fem!reader

▹ genre: smut, rut!au

▹ words: 6.6k

▹ rating: nsfw

▹ warnings: mc curses like a sailor and solomon has no filter, lucifer’s had a rough time, a pinch of grinding, mentions of masturbation, hickies, explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, rough sex

▹ notes: tadaa! this took a bit longer than I had originally planned (hence the big gap between the sneak peek and the full release) but I was determined to crank this out for @hornywrath‘s birthday! hope you enjoy a lil bit of mammon hun, and happy birthday! also, I guess this also counts for a 400 follower milestone, which we hit very recently! thank you all for being here, I hope the wait was worth it ;)

“Solomon, I’m about ready to fight someone,” you seethed to the sorcerer as you glared up at his ceiling from your comfortable resting spot on top of his bed.

The entire situation was ridiculous. The brothers had been actively avoiding you almost all week, which was annoying enough, but today they had cut off all communication with you entirely. No one came down to breakfast, no one was in any of your shared classes, and no one even bothered to text you so you’d know what the hell was going on. If they were going to give you the cold shoulder the LEAST they could do would be to tell you why.

Instead, you were left to wonder what you had done wrong because surely there was some explanation for their behavior. After a full day of scouring your memory during boring classes (in which there was no one to distract you, unlike usual) you were still drawing a blank on what exactly you had done.

This only meant one thing: you were 100% innocent in this situation, and the brothers would never live this down if you had anything to say about it.

When you were about halfway back to the House of Lamentation after class your D.D.D. buzzed. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest seeing that the notification was a text from Lucifer. It was the first time any of the brothers had contacted you all day! With any luck, you’d finally get some explanation as to just what was going on, and (if you were lucky) an apology. The second one is highly unlikely given that it was Lucifer who had texted you, but you still had hope. That is, until you opened the message.

After class, immediately go to Purgatory Hall. You will be staying there with the other exchange students until further notice.

A second set of buzzes followed the first, in case one punch to your heart wasn’t enough.

Under no circumstances are you allowed to return to the House of Lamentation without permission.

Excuse you? Were you seriously just told that you weren’t allowed in your own house anymore? Sadly, yes, that seemed to be exactly what had just happened, and Lucifer isn’t the sort of person that you’d argue with about an order.

But come on, you hadn’t even gotten an explanation!

With no other choice, you turned your livid butt around and marched (read: stomped) over to your new home, ready to tell (read: rant to) your fellow exchange students of the injustices you had been served as of late. As if Lady Luck wanted to send an ‘F U’ herself, Solomon was the only one in Purgatory Hall when you arrived. Not the beautiful and benevolent Simeon, or Luke, who you thought of as an angelic younger brother, but Solomon, with a fox’s grin that was far too smug for your liking. And, unfortunately, the smugness only grew as you lamented about how abysmally bad your week had been thus far.

“Oh, y/n,” he said, a teasing coo woven into his tone. Your attention shifted from his incredibly interesting ceiling to his incredibly boring head that he was propping up on his desk with his incredibly boring hand. Solomon may be one of your best friends, but you’d be lying if you said he didn’t push your buttons all the damn time. “You’re so naive to the ways of the world.”

“Sorry I’m not a fancy pants magic bitch like you,” you grumbled with no real bite behind your words. Would you believe he then had the audacity to snicker at you? Because that’s exactly what he did. It took all of your strength plus a little extra from the Big Man Upstairs to not clock the white-haired menace into next week. “Solomon, explain to me what’s going on before I do something I won’t regret.”

Ever the fake pacifist, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need for violence. And, really, it’s your own fault that you don’t know about demon ruts.”

Silence filled the room, leaving you to sit there and drown in it as Solomon seemingly decided the desk itself would make a much more comfortable seat than his chair. With just those few words he had managed to switch your brain from operating on Google Chrome to Internet Explorer, and what is the next thing he does? Perches on his desk like it was normal.

After some time passed with you buffering and Solomon preening as if he had just been graced by God, you finally managed to spit out, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

More snickering. Try as you might, you couldn’t fight off the blush that had been steadily creeping onto your cheeks, so you instead gave in and decided to find out as much as you could. “You mean, right now, they’re at home—”

“Jacking themselves off on anything of yours that they can get their cummy little demon mitts on? Ding ding ding, you’ve guessed it! Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been in your room already. Having a—” calculating eyes swept your form from head to toe before continuing irritatingly hesitantly, “presumably fertile female so close is akin to torture when they’re rutting, so what remains of your pheromones are probably the only thing they can smell at the moment.”

Taking the high road for once in your little gremlin life, you chose to ignore the ‘presumably fertile’ comment and remained focused on the topic at hand: the brothers were going through a demon rutting period. “That is so unbelievably disgusting and hot at the same time.”

So some of your inner gremlin slipped out, sue you.

Solomon sighed as if he expected nothing more from you, white strands of hair falling onto his face as he pressed it into the palms of his hands. “Leave it to you to be turned on by the suffering of others.”

“Shut it, Solomon, you know what I mean.” Heat flared across your cheeks at the insinuation. You may be many things, but a sadist was not one of them; Lucifer had that title locked down anyway. “Dammit. What do I do, Solomon? Lucifer texted me saying that I can’t go back, so does he really expect me to wear the same clothes for however many days it takes for their ruts to end?”

“Probably. He’s twisted like that. Ooh, what if he’s getting off to the idea that you’re—”

Before you had a chance to cut Solomon off from finishing a sentence that would have undoubtedly mortified you to no end, a series of rapid-fire buzzes from your phone did it for you. You had patted both yourself and the area around you on the bed down thoroughly only for Solomon to dangle your phone in the air. Warning bells sounded off in your head loud and clear the moment you noticed his cheeky grin.

“I think you should put this one on speaker.”

With a flick of his wrist, your phone sailed through the air and landed on the bed next to you after you failed to catch it. Ignoring Solomon’s snort, you flipped your phone over to see who was calling you. The name, along with everything you had just discussed with Solomon, caused your pulse to pound in your ears.

It was Mammon.

Panic ran through your veins like liquid lightning. Should you answer it? There could only be one reason why he would be calling if he was rutting. Warmth shot straight to your core. Deep down, you realize that if he was calling you to ask for help, you’d say yes. Solomon cleared his throat and gestured at your phone, reminding you to answer before you lost your chance. Without hesitation, you answered the call, switching to speakerphone with a pointed glare from the man across from you.

Within seconds, breathy groans rang out from the phone. Your face flushed as you spared a glance at Solomon, who had donned a shit-eating grin, before your attention snapped back to the phone upon hearing Mammon’s voice. “Where are ya, y/n?” he whined. “I need ya so bad.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip between them. “Lucifer told me not to come back for now, so I’m at Purgatory Hall.”

A string of expletives exploded from the speaker, although they died down as quickly as they started. When Mammon addressed you again, the pleading tone to his voice was in no way subtle. “Please. . . Please come help me, y/n. I need ya.”

“Mammon, babe, are you rutting?” Your eyes widened in horror while Solomon snickered gleefully; the question had fallen out before you could really even think about it.

You weren’t given much time to worry over it, though, as Mammon answered in confirmation, “Yeah. And everythin’. . . Everythin’ fuckin’ HURTS. It hurts so bad, y/n, please.” Images of some of your succubi and incubi friends flashed through your head. It would probably be best that a demon helped him through his heat. If you helped, you’d likely get hurt. You had just begun to offer to call one of your friends when your words were cut short with a growl. “No, dammit! I only want you! Only you, ya hear me, y/n?”

A milky-white hand clamped firmly against his mouth was the only thing preventing Solomon from alerting Mammon to the fact that you were not the only human hearing him at that moment, and that hand was getting dangerously close to not being enough to save the two of you. The thought of how Mammon would react upon finding the two of you out sent a shiver down your back. You could NOT let that happen.

Executive authority coursed through you as you turned off the speakerphone and brought it up to your ear instead; a curling lick of satisfaction in your chest was the only thing Solomon’s huff of discontent managed to elicit. “Okay, Mammon, I’m on my way.”

A pleased groan answered your words, followed by a click. You blinked a few times, waiting to no avail for anything else— he had hung up on you. Although you’re not quite sure what you expected (some thanks would have been nice) you couldn’t help but to notice how your body seemed to be thrumming with anticipation.

“Oh, you’re on your way, are you? You DO realize that if you go to help one of them you’ll have to help ALL of them, right? So are you stupid? Is that it?” the whirlwind that was Solomon accused, white brows furrowed in total scorn. “And here I was, thinking that you were a creature of intelligence. Oh, how it pains me to be wrong.”

Already on your feet, you pocketed your phone and smoothed out your clothes, ready to head to the House of Lamentation at any moment. After concluding that you were presentable enough to go have a demon rip your clothes off your body— a matter that you had grown incredibly serious about in a somewhat suspiciously short amount of time, as if the thought of being ravaged by the brothers had crossed your mind before— you turned to address the snarky sorcerer in the room. “You heard him, Solomon. He’s in serious pain right now, and he wasn’t going to accept anyone else’s help getting through it.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it,” he said in exasperation. “He’s a DEMON. He’d say whatever he needed to in order to get you there!”

Arguing with him was clearly going to get you nowhere. Instead, you stared down Solomon, daring him to continue trying to change your mind. It was a battle of the minds, and luckily for you, you happened to be one of the most bull-headed humans to ever grace the earth. After what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Solomon relented with a burdened groan.

“Fine, just let me cast a spell on you so you aren’t impregnated and obliterated, for the love of God.” His eyes searched yours imploringly. If you didn’t know any better you’d almost think that he was worried about you, but that would be a ridiculous idea. Still, you agreed, to which he let out a breath of relief.

Without wasting any time he crossed the room and took your hands in his own. Low mutterings in a language you didn’t recognize left his mouth, so you focused on the feeling of his hands; they were surprisingly soft and a bit bigger than you had previously thought.

A faint warmth and a corresponding tingling sensation started at your fingertips and soon encased your entire body, the tingling somehow reassuring as it raised goosebumps to the surface of your skin. Your eyes flitted up to Solomon’s questioningly, only for them to widen in shock— his eyes had gone entirely white and were glowing. Just as you were about to admit that his magic was actually pretty cool, it stopped.

The warmth and tingling disappeared, and Solomon’s eyes blinked back to normal. The only effect of the magic that you could feel was a particular humming sensation in your lower abdomen. That, and you felt like you could take on Diavolo himself and win, but that wasn’t a new feeling; an uncommon one, sure, but definitely not new.

Satisfied with his work, Solomon staggered a few steps backward before flopping onto his bed. “You should be good to go.” He propped himself up on his elbows, fixing you with a squinted stare. “You’re lucky I enjoy our banter, y/n. Can’t let you go and get yourself fucked to death, now can I?”

“God, don’t phrase it like that,” you said in a strangled voice, to which Solomon cackled and dropped onto his back once again. Just when you thought the two of you might have grown closer, he had to go and say something as mortifying as that. With renewed vigor, you scurry out of the room.

Solomon’s silvery voice echoed through the open door behind you. “Like what, the truth?”

He just managed to catch your snort before you walked out of earshot, leaving the sorcerer sprawled out on his bed, his chest heaving in deep breaths of air. The spell he had cast on you had taken quite a bit out of him. Now, he struggled to even keep his eyes open as waves of sleep crashed over him.

Would it normally take this much energy to prepare a human body for a demon rut? He supposed not, although it wasn’t exactly something he did except on the rare occasion, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wouldn’t just be dealing with one demon. There was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Ah, well, it was sure to come to him after he had rested up again. The comforting blanket of sleep settled over him, as well as his own blankets after he slipped under their covers. Right before he entered dreamland, the vision of a glowing pact mark appeared in his mind. His eyebrows knitted together; was this a premonition?

However, the mark was soon swallowed up by the foggy mist of his mind, and Solomon drifted off to sleep.

x x x x x

Never before had you gotten to the House of Lamentation faster than you did today. Just going home wasn’t nearly the same level of motivation as going to get some demon dick, so you hauled ass in record time, weaving in and out of random pedestrians you encountered that were walking the paths around the Devildom. Your friends really were right: you had no hope of making it into heaven. The worst part is, they had no clue whatsoever how true that statement was.

You came to a halt in front of the dorm you had recently come to call home, your hands on your knees as you struggled to regain your breath. It took everything you had not to just collapse into a weary heap on the front steps, but the promise of what was to come was enough to keep you going. Instead, you took a minute to steady your breathing before climbing the steps and slipping into the house. Technically, Lucifer had forbidden you from coming home, so it would probably be best to not alert him to your unwanted presence.

Thankfully, you had plenty of practice tip-toeing around from all of the times you’d snuck out with Asmo to go clubbing. Lucifer would never know you were there.

As you snuck past the kitchen toward the hallway of bedrooms, the sound of the tap turning on freeze you in your tracks. With your heart in your throat, you slowly twisted your head toward the direction of the sound, hoping from the bottom of your sin-stained heart that the person responsible wasn’t who you thought it was.

There, his bare back hunched over the sink with a glass of water clenched tightly in his degloved hand, stood Lucifer. Although the mere presence of the man had you rattled, what he was wearing— or rather, what he WASN’T wearing— made you even more so. He had donned a pair of baggy grey sweatpants that rested low on his hips and had lost the rest, leaving little to be imagined. Little to be imagined of HIM, that is— the sight sparked plenty of thoughts on your part.

The temptation to slink away to Mammon before you were discovered was great, but the temptation of marveling this new side of Lucifer was greater; you steeled yourself and moved toward him.

His rut seemed to have taken quite the toll on him already, as his usually well-kept hair was now disheveled and somewhat damp as if he had just recently gotten out of the shower. A shiver ran down your spine as the image of Lucifer in his shower was plastered to the forefront of your mind. With much thanks to your abysmally short attention span, the thought was easily discarded when you noticed that his muscles rippled along his back with each movement he took: emptying his glass; placing it back down on the counter; pushing his hair back.

Even as he turned around and realized someone had joined him in the kitchen, you couldn’t find it in yourself to run for cover. Maybe you’d screwed up your survival instincts at some point?

“y/n?” Lucifer croaked, his gaze predatory as it raked down your form. Something akin to a harrowed smirk cracked across his face when you shivered at the intensity radiating off of him, yet it was soon replaced with a pained grimace. His hands clenched the edge of the counter behind him so tightly that his knuckles were white as he ripped his gaze away from you. “I believe I explicitly told you not to return here until you received further instruction. You disobeyed me.”

You’d be lying if you said that the commanding growl in his words didn’t turn you on. Hell, if anyone told YOU that you’d just laugh in their face because damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. Not to mention the electrifying effect it had on your body; it was as if every fiber of your being was on edge right now, acutely aware of every single thing that Lucifer said or did.

You found yourself longing to press your body up onto his, to entangle your hands in his already messy hair and mesh your lips together while you hook one of your legs around his waist to keep him close as he slams you up against the counter—

The purposeful clearing of his throat snapped you out of your imagination. It’s odd for you to have become so withdrawn from reality, but you just chalked it up to it being a side effect from whatever spell Solomon had cast on you. Anyway, Lucifer had asked you a question, and while it may not have been the smartest decision in the long run, you were in no mental state to be pulling lies out of your ass. “Mammon asked me to come over and help him.”

“Oh really? So you’ve discovered our dirty little secret, but still came?” he hummed in thought, more to himself than to you. Some switch must have flipped in him as he had gone from very obviously holding himself back to slowly stalking toward you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. It was at that moment that your survival instincts kicked in and you took two small steps back for every one Lucifer took forward. Sadly, you seemed to have walked further into the kitchen than you had originally thought you did and soon found yourself pressed along the center table with nowhere else to run from the demon in front of you.

A pink tongue darted out from his mouth, wetting the bottom lip that it dragged along. Lucifer had you right where he wanted you. It took a total of three steps for him to close the gap between you two, his arms resting on either side of you to cage you in. Desire flickered in his half-lidded eyes as he stared you down. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?”

You hummed in response, too fixated on how alluring his slightly-parted, flushed lips looked. Due to your intense focus on said lips, you didn’t miss how the corners of his mouth quirked up before he leaned forward and out of your sight. Your breath caught in your throat as his heated breath fanned out across your neck while he spoke. “You’re lucky that you ran into myself and not one of my brothers. Unlike them,” his hips met yours and instantly began to slowly roll, “I can control myself.”

The hardness of his length and the waver in his tone seemed to suggest otherwise.

A devious thought pushed itself to the forefront of your mind, one that you were all too willing to go along with. One of your hands ghosted down his chest, your nails lightly scratching his pale skin while the other snaked upward and caressed his cheek. Lucifer shuddered into your touch and bit back a quiet groan, his hips grinding against yours with a tad more urgency.

“What happened to being able to control yourself?” you asked breathily. With any luck, you’d be able to get his self-control to snap and he’d take you right then and there. Your thighs tensed slightly as heat shot to your core at the thought.

Then he pulled away and your entire mastermind plan came crashing down.

Lucifer stumbled backward, fingers pinching his nose tightly shut as he glared holes into the ground. Wait, do you smell or something? You could’ve sworn you had put deodorant on that morning. A discreet sniff of yourself reassured you that you did not stink, so why the abrupt stop?

“I believe that you should find Mammon in your room.” He staggered backward with urgency; so much so that he would have clipped his side on the counter had you not warned him. Pink dusted his cheeks for a moment as he cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed from not noticing the counter. Your bemusement was cut short, however, when he fixed you with a piercing look that sent shivers down your back. “I expect to see you in my room once you are finished.”

Unable to stop yourself, you quipped back, “I’ll think about it.”

“By all means, do,” he purred, red eyes narrowing into seductive slits. Even as he backed out of the room, sweat beads beginning to glisten on his forehead, he somehow still made you want to do nothing more than hand yourself over to him completely. “But let me assure you that the actual thing will be so much more enjoyable than whatever you end up imagining.”

With that, he was gone, and you were left with nothing but yourself and your newfound neediness. You had half a mind to chase after the first-born, but the other half of your mind was insisting that you go to Mammon, as he was the one who had called you in the first place. With a small sigh, you headed off down the hallway toward your room. It was a short walk, as per usual, but the anticipation that had once again began to swirl in your stomach lengthened it a good bit.

What, exactly, did helping a demon through their rut entail? You assumed that they needed help finishing, but was that it? Of course, you’d help the brothers out with anything, ESPECIALLY if they were in pain because of it, but it was a little unnerving not knowing exactly what you had gotten yourself into. Thank God that Solomon had been there to help cast a spell on you (which you still had no clue what it did, but you trusted him enough to believe that you’d be fine) because, now that you’ve had some more time to think about it, there was no way you’d be able to walk away from this little excursion of yours unscathed.

You hesitated outside of your partially opened door for just a moment before stepping inside and locking the door behind you. As you turned around to once again face the rest of your room, quiet huffing and groaning alerted you of the demon in the room with you.

The sight that blessed your eyes ignited a white-hot fire in your core.

Mammon was sprawled out buck-naked on your bed, your sheets and comforter rumpled enough to lead you to assume that he had been wriggling around on them for a while. As a surprise to no one, your eyes immediately zeroed in on his hand— namely, how said hand was loosely wrapped around his length and lightly jerking it. His caramel skin glistened under a sheen layer of sweat from his exertions, and his head was tipped back against your pillow as he chased a semblance of relief.

You mindlessly take a few steps toward the sight. Had he not noticed you were in the room yet? Considering how tightly his eyes were screwed shut and how his breathing was getting progressively louder, it wasn’t impossible.

“Mammon?” you called out hesitantly, unsure if you should be interrupting or not. Although, he had called you specifically to help him with this exact thing, so maybe you were worrying about nothing.

His eyes snapped wide open the moment his name came out of your mouth; he really hadn’t heard you enter then. A shuddering inhale shook his form for a moment before he pushed himself up to a seated position and said in disbelief, “You really came.”

As if you could ignore his phone call. You rolled your eyes as you finished closing the gap between the two of you, your hands lifting to cup Mammon’s warm cheeks. “I said I would, didn’t I?” Unintelligible mumbling followed that you silenced by pressing your thumb against his lips. “What do you want me to do?”

Without a word, Mammon’s hands gripped your waist and guided you onto his lap, your knees on either side of him. His hot mouth instantly found your neck, the feeling of his hasty kisses and the occasional nip stealing your breath away. Not staying in one place too long, the kisses quickly trailed their way down toward your collarbone, only for the fabric of your shirt to get in the way. Aside from his annoyed grumbling, Mammon didn’t make any comments about it and simply tugged at your shirt, wordlessly asking you to take it off.

Of course you complied (because why would you not?) and freed yourself from the now-restrictive fabric. No sooner had you wriggled out of your top than had Mammon’s hands begun to roam all over your body, almost as if he was attempting to commit your form to memory.

Everywhere his hands went brought a tingling sensation to your skin. Eventually, one dipped low enough to fiddle with the band of your shorts, although it didn’t go any farther than that. As great as the makeout session was, a growing firmness pressing along the inside of your thigh and the unsteadiness of his touch reminded you of exactly why you were called in the first place.

“Mammon,” you tried, but your words fell on deaf ears as Mammon was too lost in the feeling and taste and touch of you to even register that you had spoken. Fog rolled across your mind as he found a particularly sensitive spot and capitalized on it, teeth gently scraping against the skin which was immediately followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue. Still, you found it somewhere within you to try again. “Mammon, wait.”

“Hm?” His lips buzzed pleasantly against your neck, eyes turning up toward your own.

Your stomach flipped at the sheer want pooling in their golden ichor. “I’m here to help you with your rut, but right now I feel more like we’re focusing on me.”

“Of course I’m focusin’ on you,” he harrumphed, a look of embarrassment shading his features. “You’re a human! There’s no way you’d be able to jump right on in without gettin’ hurt, so I’m… I’m tryin’ to warm you up a bit.”

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair reassuringly. “That’s awful sweet of you, babe, but I’m seriously fine. Solomon hooked me up with some magic before I came over, so I’m all set.”

His grip on your hips tightened at the mention of the sorcerer, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, his hands jumped from your hips to your shoulders, flipping you onto the bed with Mammon positioned between your legs. You’d never noticed it before, but his canines were slightly more pointed than a human’s; they’re all you focused on when a smirk crept onto his features. “You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

If before had been the warm-up, then the main event was the warm-up times ten. Your mouths crashed together, and you found yourself fighting to stay caught up with Mammon’s urgent pace. The bed creaked underneath the two of you as Mammon rushed to get the rest of your clothes off. It was impressive how he managed to slide off your shorts without breaking away from you, but you weren’t allowed to dwell on that thought for very long at all.

“You’re sure about this?” His breathless question warmed your heart. Even now, as his legs trembled with the discomfort he was surely in and his gaze grew hazy, he had the decency to make sure that you were sure. You hadn’t faltered from your original commitment once, but now you were certain you had made the right choice.

A cheeky grin split across your face. “I’ve never been more sure about something in my life.”

No sooner had you gotten the words out than had Mammon’s cock shoved its way through your entrance, his hips pressing flush against your own. The burning feeling of your walls stretching to take him in so suddenly proved too much to handle, your body arching into his own as a gasping whine tore from your lips.

For a moment— just a moment— he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his size. One of his hands hooked underneath your knee and pulled it closer to your side so he could get a better angle. A shot of pleasure ran through you as the repositioning briefly caused your muscles clenched around him. Seeing the shudder rack your form, Mammon rolled his hips into yours. Your head tipped back at the feeling of his swollen length dragging against your walls, and he wasted no time in leaving blossoms of orchid and rouge along the now-exposed column of your neck.

As your eyes rolled back at the feeling, you missed how he shifted above you, gripping the head of your headboard with his other hand for support. You didn’t miss how his hips pulled back and thrust up into you, nor did you miss how each thrust following that was just as strong.

Unrestrained sounds fell from your open mouth as Mammon launched into an aggressive pace that left you scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders or back so you wouldn’t hit your headboard. The moment your hands bumped into something protruding from his back, your eyes flew open to search for what exactly you had just touched.

At some point, Mammon must have shifted to his demon form, as his wings were currently curling over the two of you almost like some sort of shield. Your legs squeezed together at the sight, allowing Mammon’s next thrusts to find your g-spot.

“Fuck, Ma-Mammon,” you cursed, the demon on top of you growling lowly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned before pressing a firm kiss along your jaw. “You’re doin’ so good for me, y/n.”

You answered with a keening moan, as you were sure that you wouldn’t be able to articulate any more actual words— not while Mammon kept plowing into you at this speed, anyway. Tension coiled tightly in your abdomen, each thrust drawing you closer and closer to your peak. You couldn’t tell how close Mammon was, but with as ragged as his panting was growing, you assumed he wasn’t all that far behind you.

With every passing moment, your body grew more and more flush with heat and your moans increased in volume, which Mammon encouraged with more whispered praise. One particularly strong smack of his hips against yours triggered the release of a loud whine from your throat, and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. “Just like that, sweetheart.” His lips brushed tantalizingly against your ear, making sure that you heard him over yourself. “Let ‘em all know who’s makin’ you feel this good.”

A few more solid thrusts were all it took to make you unravel, your toes curling and your body arching into Mammon at the utter bliss engulfing you entirely.

“Mammon!” you wailed, all other words escaping you as stars danced behind your eyes. Your walls clenching down on him pushed Mammon over the edge as well, his hips stuttering before pressing as deep inside of you as he could, release spilling into your throbbing core. A groan tumbled from his lips as his teeth sunk into the crook of your neck, the sharp stinging drawing a soft whine from yourself.

After a few moments of deepening his mark, Mammon flopped onto his back and rolled you on top of him, his arms wrapping tightly around your body to gently hold you against him. The bliss from orgasming was now wearing off and was being replaced with exhaustion. Tension seeped out of you in waves as you relaxed against Mammon’s heaving chest, his skin cool against your warm cheek.

Laughter soon met your ears, and the shaking body beneath you made it pretty obvious who it was coming from. Drowsily, you pushed yourself up to a sitting position and let Mammon slip himself out of you while you threw an inquisitive look his way. The eyes that met your own were no longer ones of a demon in rut, but ones filled with total admiration. “What are you laughing about?”

“You,” he answered simply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear while his other hand rested loosely on your bare hip.

Your heart fluttered at that, but you played it off with a small smile and a tiny slap against his chest. “Why are you being so cheesy?”

He said nothing, only answering with another laugh as he leaned forward to pepper your face with soft kisses. His laughter turned out to be infectious as you, too, began to laugh, leaving the two of you giggling into each others’ mouths before he pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. “I’m just so happy you actually came, y/n.”

“Me too, I was starting to get worried there for a bit,” you snarked, the teasing lilt evident in your tone. Mammon scoffed at playfully rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as the corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk.

“Sure fooled me. You sure sounded like you were enjoying yourself.” Now it was your turn to fake being offended; you gasped indignantly before turning your head away in a fake pout.

“With this much disrespect, maybe I’ll just show myself out.”

“Woah there, let’s not be too hasty.” A thumb and forefinger grip your chin and turn your head back toward Mammon, who had a peculiar twinkle in his eye. It was something warm and knowing and light, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. The odd look didn’t leave when he pulled you against his chest for what felt like the hundredth time that day, nor did it leave when you tangled yourselves up in the other while you cuddled, just taking time to soak the other in.

Eventually, Mammon gave himself over to sleep, his light snores rumbling softly against the side of your neck as he unconsciously wriggled himself impossibly closer into you. You were just about to as well until two short sets of buzzes caught your attention.

Twisting around carefully in Mammon’s arms, you were just able to see your D.D.D. flicking off again after receiving the messages. Luckily, your shorts had ended up getting thrown onto your nightstand, so it wasn’t too much of a challenge to snag your D.D.D. from your back pocket without waking up the sleeping demon latched on to you.

Flicking it open, you saw that the messages had come from Levi.

come over please. I know your with mammon right now

I need help too y/n, please

You cast a glance over your shoulder at the said demon, guilt gnawing at your heart as memories resurfaced of how sweet he had been earlier; however, those memories were soon replaced with ones of Lucifer, disheveled and leaning into your touch, and of Solomon, warning you that you’d end up helping all of the brothers out. With a sigh, you tapped a quick reply to Levi that you were on your way and eased yourself out of Mammon’s arms.

As you got to your feet, you were surprised to find that you weren’t sore in the slightest, despite how rough Mammon had been. Solomon’s magic really was no joke. It didn’t take you long to slip back into your clothes (granted, you didn’t bother putting your bra and underwear back on because you’d just be taking them off again) and you soon found yourself staring down at Mammon.

You were still guilty about running off to go fuck his younger brother while he was sleeping, but at the same time, you’d feel even more guilty about only helping one brother and leaving the other six to deal with their ruts by themselves. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, you finally steel yourself and commit to your decision, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before turning around and marching yourself straight out of your door. You don’t look back, because you know that if you do, the rest of the brothers would end up suffering through their ruts alone.

#obey me #obey me: swd #obey me mammon #obey me smut #obey me mammon x reader #heat!au #obey me fic #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

2K notes · View notes