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venus-haze · 4 months

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Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)

Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable.

“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.

“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.

RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.

She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”

You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”

“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”

Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him.

“That’s nice,” you said.

She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”

“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.

“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.

Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.

Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.

It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.

“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.

You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’

“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”

You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you.

“Go on,” he said.

With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.

“Alright, now turn around.”

“Wh-What?”

“I ain’t got all night.”

You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.

He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.

“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.

You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes.

Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”

He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you.

Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.

Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?

“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.

Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.

“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness.

The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.

“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."

#otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #the devil's rejects #3 from hell #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom #otis driftwood fanfic #otis driftwood imagine #slasher fanfic

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bendycxmet · 4 months

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My, What Beautiful Hair You Have!—Vash the Stampede

summary: on a boring Sunday, you decide to get Vash's attention through some head scratches

content: 771 words. mostly fluff but suggestive towards the end, head scratches, needy reader kinda ngl (but who isn't for Vash's attention), one (1) hickey, written with tristamp vash in mind

a/n: saw this fanart and immediately wanted to write this. his hair looks so nice. anyway something soft before i post my first smut piece. aha

You should be thankful. Its been a long week of nonstop travel from dusty town to dusty town. You stopped remembering what the town names were, every stop melding into one as the exhaustion from the constant Tomas riding got to you. But finally, the week reached its end, producing a lazy Sunday for you and Vash to recuperate at the latest town you stopped in.

Both of you were lounging on the motel bed, sunlight creeping in from the second-story window, dust flurries apparent from the rays pouring in. You were lying sprawled out on the mattress, Vash sitting at the end of the bed, cleaning his gun. You feel your eyes shut, not from sleepiness. No. Boredom. You sigh loudly, hoping Vash can give you some attention. Silence meets your ears. You sigh again, this time much more slowly and drawn out. Nothing. Wondering what is so interesting about that damn gun of his, you open your eyes and stare longingly at his back.

“Vashhh,” you whined. He hums questioningly, continuing his ministrations against the metallic piece in his hand. That’s not the answer you wanted. You wanted him to turn around and pay attention to you. A conversation. A wrestling competition. Anything to drive away this boredom that’s consumed you.

Your eyes land on the back of his head, outlining where his scruffy brown undercut meets the soft gentle waves of his longer, blond hair.

When does he find the time to cut his hair? Why does it look so nice? He should let me cut it for him…

What stands out to you the most, is how fluffy it looks. You feel your hand moving on its own before your brain can even register the action. You feel your fingertips reach his head, and just as you expected. Soft. You trail your fingers up from the undercut and into his blond tresses.

Vash is used to you touching his hair. What he isn’t used to is you actually using your nails to scratch his scalp. A pleasurable shudder runs down his spine, whipping around to face you as he lets out a squeak.

“Uhh…” He doesnt even know what to say, only averting his eyes and trying to distract you from the blush that’s fallen on his cheeks.

“Oh, sorry, did I scare you? I can stop.”

“No, no. It’s fine… just took me off guard.” Vash glances at you, shooting you a quick smile before turning back around. Assuming he’s ok with it now, you sit up straighter, reaching your fingers back to softly scratch at his hair, admiring the way it shifts back into place, covering your path.

“How the hell is your hair so soft? We live in a dry desert!”

“I just take showers with whatever soap we have. Other than that, mostly water when we come across a fountain and I wanna wash the dirt off me.” Vash shrugs, peeking at you over his shoulder, his gun forgotten. You smile.

I win. You thought. You finally got his attention.

“I don’t know what pisses me off more: the fact that you’re blessed with this hair, or the fact you don’t even realize. Ugh, I hate men.” You tease, a slight quirk in your lip.

“Mayflyy, you love meee though, right?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say hot stuff.” You can’t let him think he’s got the upper hand after ignoring you for an hour. The way his brown undercut trails into a peak at the slight bend of his neck triggers an impulsive thought. You lean in, trailing your lips across his neck, giving light kisses along the way. You feel Vash stop his movements suddenly, his breathing becoming shallow.

Got you right where I want you.

Just as Vash begins to relax into your gentle kisses, he gasps, eyes shooting open as you abruptly bite into the soft skin, suckling slightly after. You pull back, leaning on the palms of your hands as you stare admiringly at your work.

The satisfying grin falls away as Vash doesn’t turn around after a minute. Thinking you may have crossed the line, you offer a white flag in surrender.

“Heh, hey sorry I didn’t mean to stop you from working on your gun. If you want, we can go out and get din-”

His gun clatters noisily on the ground near his feet. Looking up, you meet Vash’s swimmingly hot gaze.

“Not tonight. You started something you have to finish now, Mayfly.”

You scoot backwards, inviting him further up the bed as he crawls his way to you.

This was gonna be a long night.

masterlist

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#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #vash the stampede #vash x reader fluff #vash fluff #vash drabble #bendycxmet writes

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alwaysteammikaelson · 1 year

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Safe in your arms.

klaus mikaelson x Reader

The rain pattered soothingly against the windows of the Mikaelson compound. It was a lazy Sunday night and Klaus had been working on business inside the French Quarter. After a long day, Klaus had switched into a loose shirt and pants, enjoying a warm shower.

Klaus yawned loudly as he made his way down the stairs, relaxed from his shower, dressed comfortably for the evening. His eyes lit up when he saw you in the kitchen, humming as you prepared a batch of chocolate chip cookies, his favorite.

"Good evening, my wolf," you greeted him cheerfully.

"Evening, luv," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. You could tell from his sluggishness that he was exhausted after a long day. Your poor puppy.

You turned around in his embrace and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Did you have a productive day?"

He nodded, his blue eyes gleaming as he tried to steal another kiss. You giggled at his eagerness and patted his cheek fondly.

"I was thinking we could watch a movie today," you said. "How about Titanic?" You knew it was one of your favorites and that Klaus secretly enjoyed the tragic romance as well.

"If it pleases you, sweetheart," he replied, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear and gazing at you adoringly.

"You spoil me, you know that?" you teased, tapping the tip of his nose playfully.

He chuckled. "Only because you deserve it, my luv."

After getting the cookies out of the oven and preparing a steaming pot of English breakfast tea, you made your way to the lavish living room. Klaus had already sprawled himself on the leather couch, the TV on as he scrolled through the options to find Titanic.

You set the tea and plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table before curling up next to him. He instantly wrapped you in his warm embrace, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"You smell divine," he purred, pressing a kiss to your pulse point.

You sighed, tilting your head to give him better access. "And you, my wolf, need to shave," you replied, grinning as his stubble grazed your skin.

He pulled away slightly to look at you, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you liked some stubble?"

You tapped a finger against his jaw. "Only a little. You're getting scruffy."

"Your wish is my command, luv," he said, stealing a swift kiss.

As the movie started, you settled into his arms with your plate of cookies, occasionally feeding one to Klaus. He savored each bite, licking the melted chocolate from his lips. During the romantic scenes, his grip on you would tighten ever so slightly, his breath hitching when Rose and Jack shared their first kiss. Though he denied it, you knew he was a closet romantic at heart.

Halfway through the movie, you noticed Klaus stifling more yawns. You turned to grab a cookie from the plate, breaking off a piece to feed to him. He accepted it gratefully, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored the taste of melted chocolate chips. Some of the chocolate had smudged onto the corner of his mouth.

You giggled, tapping your finger against his lower lip. "You've got a little something..."

He raised an eyebrow, grasping your wrist to bring your finger to his lips. His eyes darkened as he slowly licked the chocolate from your finger, his tongue hot and wet against your skin. "Better?" he purred.

Your breath hitched at the sensation. "You missed a spot," you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes. Before he could react, you leaned in to lick the remaining chocolate from the corner of his mouth in one smooth motion.

Klaus growled deep in his chest at your boldness, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. He angled your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing along your lower lip, begging for entrance. You sighed into his mouth, tasting the chocolate that lingered on his tongue.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Klaus gazed at you through half-lidded eyes filled with lust and love. "My girl," he growled, though the effect was lost in the yawn that followed.

You chuckled at his slip, scratching his scalp with your nails lightly to relax him. He rumbled in pleasure, the sound vibrating through you from how tightly he held you against his chest.

As the movie progressed The emotional ending scene left his eyes glassy, and you caught the gleam of tears threatening to spill over. Your heart swelled at seeing this rare vulnerable side to your little Hybrid.

"Oh, puppy," you sighed, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb.

"It's just...they were destined to be together, were they not?" he mumbled sleepily. "Had the bloody ship not sunk..."

You placed a palm on his cheek. "I know, my puppy. Their story is a tragic one. But we have each other, and nothing will tear us apart."

He gave you a drowsy smile, nuzzling into your hand. The movie had drained him both emotionally and physically, sleep calling to him.

You started running your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly in the way you knew relaxed him. He sighed contently, his eyes drooping shut at your ministrations.

"Sleep, my wolf. I'll be here when you wake," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Stay with me, luv," he slurred, tightening his arms around you.

"Always," you promised.

His breathing deepened as sleep finally overtook him. You gazed down at his peaceful face, feeling complete with your Hybrid wrapped around you. Sunday had come to a perfect end. Closing your eyes, you joined him in slumber, safe in each other's arms throughout the rainy night.

#the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #joseph morgan #the mikaelsons #edits #tvd fandom #tvdedit #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikealson x reader #niklaus x reader #niklaus mikaelson #tvd universe #celebrities #tvd fanfiction #fanfic

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margareth-lv · 3 months

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🥱🇧🇪 Not a single flying f**k has been given 🇧🇪🥱

On a Sunday afternoon in January, the waterfront promenade in Ostend is relatively quiet. It's not raining (and it always rains in Belgium) and it's not particularly windy, but temperatures below 10°C encourage only the most persistent walkers.

10°C is 50°F. It is not hot at all.

When a man dressed in black gets out of a luxury BMW parked in a pedestrian and cycle zone (with its hazard lights on), no one stops to look. No over-enthusiastic fans run up. No one faints. No one wants to take a photo. Passers-by walk by. At most they smile warmly.

You may recall that Caitríona has spoken in interviews about how she can go to the supermarket or walk through an airport and people won't recognise her.

Her explanation was that she's scruffy in her day-to-day life. She doesn't pay much attention to her appearance.

I think the reason for the lack of cameras and autograph hunters in Europe is quite different. Neither Sam nor Caitríona are very well known here. And I say this from the inside.

In our 'small but vocal' fandom we tend to think that the world revolves around Sam and Caitríona. Except it doesn't. Although Outlander is on Netflix, few of my friends watched it.

Sam and Caitríona can be travelling around Europe, relaxing, sightseeing, eating in restaurants, and no one will notice them (maybe just the people who think they look nice together).

For the confirmation of my thesis, I would like to thank my fellow Belgians on the Digue on a winter's Sunday evening.

La Digue at the beginning of the 20th century.

[January 29, 2024]

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pedge-stuff · 8 months

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Hey... can I request a pedro × reader please?

They making dinner together and things get hot and heavy in the between

normal night (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

thanks, as always, for everything.

obligatory warning: light smut, allusions to romance

summary: no such thing as a "normal night," apparently.

—————————————————————————

Normalcy is such a fucking privilege.

It's all you can think about, salting thin strips of eggplant over a colander in the sink. Something about bitterness, or moisture. There'd been a whole article about it in the Sunday Times a while back, and Pedro had sworn its effectiveness since.

Your excitement was almost comical. Here you were, practically vibrating in anticipation of something that most people experience nightly: a home cooked meal with your partner. Eggplant parm, a side salad, and a bottle of red wine. That's all.

It's a rarity, though. Pedro in New York while you're off work and neither of you have any meetings or appointments past 5pm. He'd had a late-afternoon coffee with an old NYU classmate, but based on FindMyFriends, he was already headed back. You'd been looking forward to it all day— the kind of normal evening that most people take for granted.

You've got the radio on, albeit playing from the speakers of your laptop. Email up, but minimized— 5pm was a strict deadline tonight. No work. Just salting eggplant and stirring the simmering pot of tomato sauce on the burner.

The jangle of keys in the lock has you grinning.

"Hey!" Pedro calls. It's a little silly, how your heart still flutters, all this time later.

Arms wrap around your middle from behind. Squeeze tight for a moment, just the way you like, ribs compressed by the strong swell of his biceps. A scruffy cheek tickles the base of your neck as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, placing a kiss over the fabric of your sweater.

"Hi baby," you hum, leaning back into the embrace. There is coffee on his breath, and traces of citrusy cologne on his collar. "Have a good afternoon?"

"Mhmm." The affirmative rumbles from his chest, against your back. "Smells good in here," he offers, kissing your cheek before pulling away. "What can I do?"

There is a light blush to his cheeks; a tad too much sun today. He refuses to wear sunscreen, claims Chilean blood and four decades in tropical climates, and often pays the price for his confidence.

"Open the wine," you instruct, replacing the lid on the sauce pot. Turning the tap on, over the colander, you make quick work of rinsing the eggplant.

You don't dance, but the way that you navigate the kitchen around each other feels choreographed. He hands you a bowl without looking, for the breadcrumbs, as you pass the bottle of wine. The music has him swinging his hips, just a little.

It didn't use to feel this comfortable. In the early weeks of your mark-match, Pedro's house felt more like a museum; you sat stiffly on the couch, afraid to so much as muss the pillows, or use the wrong water glass. Afraid any little thing would break the illusion of bliss that had enveloped you both. It is easy now, to look back and laugh.

Pedro winks at you, pulling the last of the cork from the bottle with his teeth. A new little trick. You can't help the rush of warmth that spreads through you.

"What next?" He passes you a glass, which you tap lightly against his.

A glance at the timer on the oven. At the stairs, through the back doorway to the kitchen. At the hollow of his throat, flushed with the warmth of the kitchen, unblemished. His two sweatshirts are two too many.

"I think everything's good in here," you manage, closing the distance between you. Worm a hand beneath the layers to splay across the hot skin of his stomach. "We've got some time."

— — —

Dinner does not burn, thank god, though the side salad had to be abandoned for time. The sleeves of Pedro's pajama shirt are soaked with pasta water, and your flannel bottoms have somehow caught a streak of tomato sauce, but the choice to change into comfy clothes was ultimately a win.

You settle at the table, pleasantly warm from the wine. If your jaw is a little sore from the pre-dinner palate cleanser, well, the eggplant won't be tough to chew.

Though the evening has been nothing but relaxing, something has Pedro agitated. He'd been fine, earlier, but now he can hardly sit still. There's a nervous downturn to the corner of his mouth; mustache twitching slightly while he fiddles with the silverware.

"You can say no," he starts, which is never a good sign. You can say no typically precludes +1 invitations to stuffy industry events, or equally unpleasant obligations at which he wants company. (Of course, you don't usually say no. But, still...)

The distinct lack of eye contact is making you sweat. He's staring at his plate like the eggplant owes him a grave debt.

"Pedge." You reach to still his hand, gently squeezing until he looks up. "Whatever it is, you know I'll say yes."

"I want you to mean it, though." A pause, as Pedro pulls your hand to his lips, placing a kiss to the center of your palm. "I don't want you to say yes for the sake of saying yes."

"I won't. You're scaring me a bit, though. Are we hiding a body? "

His laugh is strained. "No, no. Sorry. Sorry, this is— I didn't want it to— ugh," he shakes his head. "Can we start over?"

Before you can respond, he pushes back in his chair, rising from the table. Pats himself down, fumbles to find something in his back pocket. Takes a deep breath, and—

Oh.

Beside you, right at the kitchen table, between the dog bowls and the sink full of dirty pots and pans, Pedro drops to one knee.

"Pedro—"

"I said I was gonna prepare a whole thing," he mumbles, "but I don't think I can wait any longer. Also figured you'd kill me if it became a spectacle."

It is your turn to laugh, wetly, choked on the lump that has formed in the back of your throat.

"I know we're marked, and we live together, and have two dumb little dogs, and more or less already act like an old married couple. I just thought maybe filing joint taxes could be cool, too."

Pedro sniffs, swiping once at under his eye with the hand that also holds a small velvet pouch. "Waited a long, long time to meet you. Kinda gave up on the mark altogether. But it was worth it, all the waiting. I would very, very much like to spend the rest of my life with you. And then some."

You're on the floor before you feel yourself move, kneeling before him. Cup his face in your hands. Brush away another errant tear that's spilled from the corner of his eye. This sweet fucking man.

"I love you," Pedro says quietly. "More than I ever thought possible."

"I love you, too." His lips are dry and warm when you press a chaste kiss against them. "Thank you for waiting for me."

You move to stand up. "Come on, your knees must be killing you."

"I need to ask the question!" He pouts.

"Oops, sorry. Please continue, Mr. Pascal."

"Balmaceda Pascal, thank you."

"I don't think we can hyphenate, babe, it's gonna be too long. They'll run out of room on the certificate."

"We can't get the certificate if you don't let me ask you this damn question!"

Finally, carefully, a gold band is extracted from the velvet bag. Simple, but stunning. Two stones are pressed to the center, small, side-by-side. "They're, uh, our birthstones," he says quietly. "But we can change it if you don't like it, it's OK."

You shake your head, unable to form a coherent word around the swell of your heart, threatening to choke you.

"The parm's gonna get cold," Pedro exhales shakily, locking eyes. "So I was wondering if you would do me the honor of marrying me?"

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with your stupid heart. But when it does, you're already moving from the kitchen, to the back doorway. Pedro, rising from the floor, looks fucking confused.

"One sec, one sec," you call, taking the stairs two at a time.

After a moment, you return, box in hand. "I've been carrying this around since May. Sit down."

Stunned, Pedro obliges.

"To answer your question," you start, lowering to replicate his kneeling position, "I have a proposition. I'll marry you if you marry me."

Inside the box, another gold ring. You remove it with a shockingly steady hand.

Pedro pauses, eyes catching on something: a familiar date, engraved on the inside of the ring. Without his cheaters, he is forced to hold the ring away from his face, squinting at the numbers.

"Is this..."

"The day I knocked."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #the mandolorian #din djarin x male reader #joel miller x male reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader

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shipperqueen6 · 1 month

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Sentences Sunday

I was tagged by the lovely @hippolotamus . Here's a little bit of my brand new fic:

Schmitt stares at his phone like it has personally offended him and in a way it has. If Taryn was here right now she'd tell him he was lucky he escaped him and logically he knows she's right but it still hurts. Levi knows it wasn't him that was the problem, but him . He got over his shitty ex months ago but it still sucks. Which is how he ends up at Joe's on a Friday night drinking.

Lucas hangs up the phone, talking to his family is freaking exhausting well except for a couple of his aunts' and some cousins but still. They judged him on everything from his haircut, to his last boyfriend (if you could call him that) to why he wasn't more like his sainted uncle. And that's how he lands at Joe's sitting next to a hot scruffy stranger.

Tagging : @monsterrae1 , @loserdiaz , @spotsandsocks , @exhuastedpigeon , @kitthekazoo , @gregorygerwitz and anyone else who wants to 🩵

#fic : you're my favorite drug #lucas adams #levi schmitt #thanks for tagging <3

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hopefulfangirlblr · 7 months

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Random favorites of Chris Evans 💙

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moonsapprentice · 13 days

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Can you do some general headcanons for the neighbors? If not that’s okay! I just really like the neighbors :]

Hii so I really love the neighbors but Mark and Jon are kind of bland to write ( FOR ME PERSONALLY !!! ) so I just did Eduardo bc I love him and I wanna peg him ( /j ). I’ll update this post if I think of any other stuff.

ALSO I’m trying out a new format for headcannons so I might be redoing all my old headcannons with this one. Think of this as a test run of sorts.

I also totally did not let this ask sit in my inbox for 5 months 😁

⋆✶✷𝔈𝔡𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰✷✶⋆

𝔄𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢

✩ Eduardo has brown scruffy hair which perpetually looks like he needs a haircut. It’s a deep brown that resembles dark chocolate. Whenever he wakes up it’s completely all over the place and takes a shit ton of combing to manage as it’s thick. I’m also a firm believer that man has body hair. Chest hair, arm hair, happy trail, the whole 9 yards. The only part of him that he keeps a bit managed is his facial hair, which he prefers to have stubble.

✩ His eyes are the same shade of brown as his hair, but have speckles of hazel in them. Occasionally you might catch a hint of green in them from radiation (power edd episode). Also has pretty lashes but he’d kill you if you pointed them out.

✩ His skin is a deep tan with warm undertones. He absolutely loves hot weather, but he’s really bad about putting sunscreen on. ALSO. MY MAN IS CHUBBY ! ! ! HE DRINKS DIET COKE ALL THE TIME HE IS CHUBBY ! ! ! He used to be 6’1 but again, radiation made him taller. So he’s 6’3

✩ khaki pant enjoyer

✩ very hot body temperature. During the winter it’s awesome because you have your own personal full body heating pad. During the summer however. . .

ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠

✩ one of his favorite things to do is to pick you up and literally throw you. Could be nsfw but also in a silly way. During the summer he 100% picks you up and tosses you in the pool, and before bed sometimes he’ll pick you up all gentle and sweet then toss you onto the bed like you’re a small dog.

✩ his love language is mostly acts of service and quality time, with occasional touch. The most common way he’ll express love is cooking for you.

✩ love/hate relationship with pda. If he’s around someone he hates (edd) he’ll purposely lay it on thick to annoy the shit out of him. Any other time though, he doesn’t do anything more than hand holding and brief kisses.

✩ when you’re alone with him he’s just the sweetest. Obviously a bit of a brat, but still sweet. He loves to cuddle.

✩ loves to kiss you on the temple and lips, loves to receive kisses on the lips and cheek. Sometimes the ear too, if you’re whispering something sweet to him.

✩ loves hearing your giggles when her rubs his stubble on you

✩ hugs from behind at any given moment.

✩ enjoys a good scalp rub. Scratch his scalp a bit and you’ll get endless kisses

✩ makeout sessions are also very common. He’ll prop you up on his lap and just hug and kiss you for hours.

✩ one time Jon walked in. Now he locks the door.

✩ as for love he likes to receive, he adores physical touch and words of affirmation. Especially if it has something to do with his appearance.

✩ surprisingly likes to be the little spoon more often than not. Of course he has days where he likes to hold you, but he likes to be scooped up

✩ especially because he can have easy access to your waist and your neck

✩ he dreams of settling down with you. He’d prefer to get married but would go at your pace. He’s open to having kids too, but could live without them if you don’t want them.

✩ carries you on his back

✩ purposely hides things/puts them on high shelves so you ask him for help (nothing super important, things like cereal boxes)

ℜ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪

✩ deviled eggs fan

✩ sneezes and coughs obnoxiously loud

✩ snores.

✩ very loosely Christian. Believes in the faith but he doesn’t go to church every Sunday or anything. He wears a gold cross under his shirt

✩ grandparents immigrated from Mexico to England

✩ speaks Spanish (duh.)

✩ literally just acts like a cunt for no reason other than to make people mad.

✩ owns a ps4 and plays gta on it

✩ the most KNARLY hairy toes

✩ screams like a woman

✩ cannot handle scary movies

✩ fast and furious fan (I’ve never watched it but like he gives off that energy)

✩ goes to sleep early (9pm)

✩ would probably sleep in his boxers but I can see him wearing those goofy ass long dresses and the hat with the ball at the end. (Yk the one)

✩ prefers coffee over tea

✩ doesn’t really like energy drinks as he thinks they’re too sweet

✩ prefers things that are savory/bitter

𝔑𝔰𝔣𝔴

✩ his favorite position is cowgirl, specifically when he’s sitting up on a couch or something so he has your chest in his face. And so it’s easy to give you kisses. He also enjoys pushing you against walls with your legs around his waist.

✩ when you’re home alone, he loves to prop you up on the kitchen counter.

✩ HARD (haha) BELIEVER IN MORNING SEX ‼️‼️ If he slept as the big spoon, there’s a 60% chance he’s waking up hard. He’ll be all groggy, making sure you’re okay with having sex right then.

✩ during that situation, since you both are bit sleepy, he prefers spooning or missionary

✩ enjoys hickeys but only if they’re hidden. He likes to give them right in the middle of your chest (between your boobs, if you have them) so he’s the only one that’ll ever see them. There, and your way lower back. Right where your pants lay. He’ll take them anywhere but especially enjoys the tail end of his collarbone and on his pelvic bone.

✩ he mostly goes on the rougher side but not enough to hurt. During morning sex though, he goes very slowly and sensually.

✩ grunter and groaner.

✩ an average sex drive. He obviously has to dial it down because of the roommates, but if they’re gone for an extended period of time he jumps at the opportunity.

✩ he can get very loud too. He doesn’t even realize it until you smack a hand (or your lips) over his mouth.

✩ prefers boobs over ass (even if you aren’t fem)

✩ he can go 2 rounds on average, up to four if you’re home alone, and only 1 if it’s morning sex.

✩ creampie kind of guy

✩ 7 inches with a bit of a downward tilt. Trimmed but not shaved

GUYS PLEASE I PROMISE I’M WRITING FOR TORD SOON I WAS JUST RANDOMLY INSPIRED TO DO EDUARDO IM SORRY 😭😭😭 also if ur reading this I saw your Matt ask and I totally agree he isn’t written for enough!! I’ll get to him soon!

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fangbangerghoul · 5 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY

LEEETS GOOOOOO Thanks @atonalginger for the tag! I think everyone I know has been tagged but if you haven't been tag, look at me, in the eyes, you are now tagged. You are bound by honor and duty to post.

I had to dig for this. I realized when I said I had something to share I shared it on snippet sunday already so I had to find the *other* thing.

This is technically a finished scene but here is a WIP/sneak peek into the off shot series I have been working on. It's just little scenes that get stuck in my head of Ghoul that I want to write.

Deep Pleasures

The smoke lingered up to the ceiling of the ship as the source of it hung out the side of Delgado’s mouth. He sat shirtless next to her organizing his various pistols and ammo. It was nights like these she actually allowed herself to enjoy the peace and lack of chaos. Her legs were lazily on his lap and she was occasionally tossed one of the daggers he had sat on the table in front of them towards the wall. The next one she threw was closer to his nose than she intended and his honey eyes glanced annoyingly at her in warning.

“Do you mind?” He growled and tossed the cigarette that he had been smoking at her. She laughed at his attempt to get her with the hot end of it and managed to catch it with her two fingers before bringing it to her mouth. She took a long drag and exhaled it directly into his face with the biggest grin of pride and satisfaction on her face.

“No, not at all, Del.” Ghoul responded as she pulled back her newly blue dyed hair. It was something she had snuck off to get done recently and Del was still not entirely happy about her running off without him considering they were still under heat for their last GalBank heist. Their photos were plastered all over the SSNN broadcasts for the past two weeks. He knew she could stand on her own two feet but he was more protective over her nowadays.

“Oh, you’re a real piece of work sometimes, mi amor.” He said theatrically and rolled his eyes. He then grabbed her ankles and yanked her closer to him with ease. Delgado pressed his warm body into her as she playfully tried to squirm away, the both of them knew she could if she tried hard enough. When Ghoul finally surrendered, she grabbed his face and dragged him closer to hers. His scruffy mustache tickled her lips as she pressed them against his without hesitation. His mouth engulfed hers and his tongue forcefully invited itself into her mouth to even out the temporary power imbalance. Their mouths performed a slow and steady dance for conquest and dominance.

Delgado broke the kiss and his soft honey eyes stared at her face while his thumb traced her jawline with gentleness he would never display to anyone else. Ghoul caught her own breath as she took in every line, scar, and beauty mark on his face as if it would be the last time she ever saw it. They were locked in the moment and enjoying the comfort of each other. They could relish when they were alone like this away from the horrors of their everyday life. Sure, piracy was fun and his ambitious goals would always take them further and further into the plight of chaos. Ghoul was just as impulsive and never thought twice about where her blades would strike in the heat of the moment. None of it mattered as much without the insane grip they had on each other and for once they both felt something as deep as the abyss that surrounded their home at The Key.

The End

#ghoul vibes only #fang writes #starfield fanfiction #starfield #starfield delgado #delgado fanfic #delgado x ghoul #wip wednesday

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jomiddlemarch · 4 months

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miracle redux

Sunday morning and you were in the church of the kitchen, that’s what Ted called it, sunlight streaming through the windows. Ellie’d be asleep a few more hours, her teenager’s predilection for sleeping-in apparent soon as she’d felt safe in Jackson. There was a Danish on your plate, beside it a mug of hot cider, a crossword puzzle, a pen. Joel walked in from the bedroom, rubbing at his scruffy jaw, his tee-shirt riding up, sweats low on his hips. He came over and kissed the top of your head, muttered “17-across is marvel.”

Yeah, you believed in miracles now.

#tlou #tlou fanfic #holiday prompts #joel miller #ellie williams #joel/you #domestic fluff #that's right #two drabbles for miracle #ted lasso x tlou crossover universe #soft joel miller

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jungkookiesandmelk · 2 years

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moaning their name in your sleep

warnings: implied sex, mostly fluff

namjoon: namjoon had woken up before you did and read his book, still in bed beside you. it wasn't before long when you began mumbling sweet words, making him pause and put down his book. at first he listened out of concern, worries you were having a nightmare. "n-namjoon," you moaned softly.

he watched in slight confusion but also intrigue as you continued to moan his name. soon enough, he was waking you up because he was jealous of his dream self. "good morning princess," he said softly as your eyes fluttered awake. "i can't let you have so much fun without me," he said as he slipped his hands around your waist.

seokjin: you were still fast asleep when seokjin woke up sleepily next to you. the morning sun peeked through the curtains, and his bed head made him look perfectly scruffy. he looked over at you and smiled at how cute you looked. he was about to grab a book to read when he heard something.

"mmm... jiiin," you mumbled. seokjin turned his attention back towards you and paused to consider if he really heard that. "seokjinnn," you moaned louder this time. his ears turned a bright red, his eyes widening. "y/n, you naughty naughty girl..." he whispered, waiting patiently for you to wake up for him to have his fun.

yoongi: "yoongi... ah..." you moaned out early in the morning. you had woken yoongi up, and he was not pleased. yoongi, in a half asleep state said, "what," in a grumpy voice. after a moment, he asked again. when there was no response, he looked over at you and saw you still fast asleep. he pursed his lips until you stirred.

"yoon... gi..." you said in a tiny voice. he grinned slightly at his name leaving your mouth. "for that and for waking me up, you are so going to get it later," he said in a still groggy voice, turning around to sleep for a few more hours.

hoseok: hoseok's eyes were wide open at the sound of your moans. they already sounded so sexual, and he was shocked to hear such things when you looked so peaceful, sleeping by him. it wasn't until you moaned his name that his face turned bright red. "y/n?..." he said softly, wondering if you were awake. when you were silent, he assumed it was a one time thing.

“hoseok," you breathed. he placed his hand on your cheek and whispered, "baby girl, how are you moaning like this on a sunday morning?" you slowly opened your eyes, seeing him looking at you with love in his eyes.

jimin: "hehehe," jimin giggled as you mumbled in your sleep. he lied on his side in the bed and propped himself up with his elbow, watching you endearingly. at first you were mumbling about food, and then it shifted. "jimin-ah," you said. "ahh jimin!" his eyes widened as he watched his innocent girl switch to naughty so quickly.

he could only stare, mouth agape as you rustled and moaned some more. he thought you were in distress at how much you were moving around in your sleep, so he shook you awake. when you opened your eyes, he was the first thing you saw, and you bit your lip, remembering what you were just dreaming about.

taehyung: it was the middle of the night, and taehyung had just gotten out of bed to grab a glass of water. when he returned, he heard you mumbling in your sleep. at first, he leant over you, concerned. when he saw you still fast asleep, he relaxed.

when you moaned, followed by his name, his expression shifted into something more sinister. "tae, tae oh my god," you moaned out. he bit his lip, grinning at how hot you sounded, wanting him even in your sleep. when you woke up the next morning, you didn't understand why taehyung was smirking.

jungkook: jungkook had just woken up when he heard you loudly moan, "jungkook-ah!" you moaned so loudly that you woke yourself up, hearing your words echo as you were woken up. you were facing away from jungkook in bed, but your face was turning bright red and he was looking over at you. shit maybe i can play it off and pretend to still be asleep, you thought.

jungkook sat there, looking at your frame with wide bunny eyes. "y/n?" he said, innocently enough. "y/n, are you awake?" you sighed, unable to resist his cute innocence. you turned around and met his eyes. "yes," you said, trying to hide your red cheeks. "oh, you are so getting it baby girl," he grinned, then attacked you with kisses.

#bts fic #bts imagines #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts suga #bts taehyung #bts jhope #bts rm

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intertexts-moving · 11 months

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i need to cut my hair so fuckinnnng bad but unfortunately i have an awful event coming up next week (fancy)(full of people i hate from years ago)(need to look elegant & hot & attractive and not like a scruffy delinquent cat so i can be cooler than them) so. eugh. one week of dealing with it next sunday it is GONE. -_-

#finally combed it out which means now i have to fucking sleep with a braid all week despite it being gods worst sensory experience. evil.#txt

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willgayers · 2 years

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hi! remember when i talked about wanting to write a story where billy has a twin; willy, who is like the ✨good✨ brother?

well, i started writing it, and here is a teaser for it! if anyone’s interested in following it i’m going to continue 🌸

note; this is an alternate universe with some changes to the actual plot, and some OC’s. <3

”cop or robber?”

“cop.”

the sun of California was shining brightly on a hot, Sunday evening on the yard of the Hargrove’s yard.

billy sighed, rolling his eyes. “what a surprise.”

“well you asked me!” willy defended himself.

“whatever—! get on your side.” billy snapped.

the 8 year old twins backed to two opposite unsteadily drawn chalk lines on the asphalt.

“okay. you ready?” willy asked.

“i was born ready.” billy smirked, turning his baseball cap to the side.

“alright braggart: here i come!” willy shouted. he jumped forwards and began chasing billy, who burst out in laughter while running away from him.

—

“dude, are you ready? can you open the damn door-? you don’t live here alone, you know.” billy smacked his fist to the bathroom door.

“in a second!” willy shouted back from behind the door.

“dude i am going to piss on the floor.” billy spat, and just then willy slammed the door open, flashing his brother a warm fake smile.

“all yours.” he said, bowing at his twin brother.

“you were shaving?” billy quirked a brow, looking at his brother’s face. they looked really similar, really; well, they were twins after all — but there were a few things telling them apart. billy’s hair was curly, where willy’s was more wavy rather than curly. willy had several ear piercings, billy had one. and if you ask willy, the most important thing telling them apart— wait, that’s something you probably don’t need to know.

“first day of new school,” willy said. “i don’t wanna look like a complete jackass.” he nodded at billy’s scruffy face.

“whatever, loser.” billy rolled his eyes and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

willy shook his head, tired of billy’s constant anger. of course willy knew that billy had always been angry; it was in his natural instinct, or something, to get pissed at the slightest inconveniences. but ever since their mother died, it had gotten worse. everyone has their own ways of dealing with grief, of course — but the way billy was handling it, was something willy just couldn’t get behind. so what he was doing these days, was just ignoring it. he thought that if he ignored it, it’ll just go away; billy will get tired of hating the world and the entire universe eventually. he’d always been the one for attention, and willy knew his twin; he knew that his constant anger was also him acting out, wanting to show the world just how bad he was hurting. he turned his sadness into anger, but didn’t accept help or comfort. he just wanted to bathe in his own little tub of hatred. and eventually, that’s why willy had come to the conclusion to just let it be. it was billy’s life, not willy’s; whatever stupid decisions his twin made to make his own life more miserable, wasn’t willy’s problem.

willy had made his way to his bedroom, and was currently looking at his appearance from the mirror. after a moment he sighed.

“as good as it gets,” he murmured to himself. he was wearing a black band tee, a light denim jacket and a pair of jeans.

then there was a knock on the door, which made him turn rapidly. standing by his door was max, their stepsister.

“hey,” max smiled, and as she looked at willy from head to toe, she smirked. “looking good.”

“you think?” willy asked, self-consciousness splashing through from his voice. “i hate being the new kid.”

“trust me, you can’t hate it more than me.” max mumbled.

“thats debatable.” willy said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “are you ready to go?”

“yeah— i was gonna ask you the same thing.” max said. “it is okay i ride with you, right?”

“are you kidding me? of course.” willy said as he started to walk towards max, and then they began walking to the front door. “i wouldn’t let you drive with billy ever. he drives like he and everyone in the car has nine lives.”

“that’s why i don’t ride with wussies.” billy appeared from the living room, biting into a green apple.

“good morning, billy.” max said to him, sarcastically.

“morning, ginger.” billy snapped. “what, you don’t wanna ride with me? i am so, so hurt.” he said, faking a pout, but his eyes stayed dead serious.

“see you at school.” willy snapped at billy, starting to make his way out. “and try not to kill anyone on your way.“

“i make no promises,” billy smirked at him, and willy rolled his eyes. max gave billy a scowl and rushed after willy.

#stranger things #stranger things OC #writing #stranger things fanfic

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