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valsdelulucorner · 2 days

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Floyd Head cannons<3

Floyd loves finding his little shrimp hanging out with their friend group or doing work in class, it makes his day. He normally runs over and pushes whoever is talking to you out of the way as he flings himself at you, squeezing you tightly in his arms before scurrying off like nothing happened, leaving you and your company very confused.

Hes 100% the type of guy to say "this ones for you" and completely miss the basketball hoop, instead hauling the ball at one of his teammates while looking so incredibly proud

To be honest if you came to twisted wonderland as a rock climber or a sprinter, he would have the time of his life chasing you around. He's never seen someone as fast as his little shrimpy, you actually give him a challenge. Can you imagine his shock if you just start to sprint up a tree or the side of the wall on campus. You catch his attention originally by climbing somewhere high to pull grim out of a tree, or even seeing you sprint by to try and reach class before the bell rings. You give him a challenge, it intrigues him

Because your a rock climber, your strong right? Imagine your just walking with your normal group before feeling something heavy lunge at you and hold onto you in the piggy back position. You can easily keep him held up right and he will just be a giggling mess, your friends worried for you as floyd remains completely supported on your back. They eventually call jade and azul and they are also shocked to see you just standing calmly, having a floyd full on bear hugging you with all four of his limbs. Maybe you would be a good security person in the Monstro lounge

If you were scared of him, his reaction would depend on how much he likes you. If he only likes to bother you every now and then, not trying to actually start a conversation or a friendship with you, he would 100% use this to his advantage, having you do things for him and azul

If he cares about you alot more, finding you interesting and wanting to be your friend, he would be so very pouty and probably ask you straight up if you actually like him or just hang out with him because your scared of him. If he is head over heals for you or if he sees that its actually bothering you badly, he will try his best to gain your trust better and have you not scared of him. It isnt fun if his little shrimpy avoids him because of his games

Ok hear me out, if Floyd gets to overwhelmed or just far to overstimulated, he turns back into his eel-mer form, just complaining and not wanting to be bothered. If you are with Floyd or if he trusts you a lot like a best friend, you might be able to comfort him in this state. Octavinelle has some massive tanks around its dorm so you will most likely be able to find him there swimming around in his true form. be careful when approaching the top of the tank, if you aren't careful he might try and pull you in. If you guys are dating or if you both are close, he will full on lunge himself at you and squeeze you, resting against you as his lower half remains in the water. Prepare to have some numb legs because you will not be able to pry him off until he stops ranting, you will leave when he feels like it shrimpy

Study dates normally end up as literally anything else dates. You guys are studying together to make sure you guys pass the upcoming exam? He will grow board and probably either lean against you or start making paper airplanes to throw at you. Its boring shirmpy!

Once he starts to fall for you, he will be confused why his heart beats so fast around you when you smile or laugh at him. Your defiantly not a threat, he can easily overpower you. He isn't scared of you, there is nothing about you that is intimidating to him. so why is his heart beating this quickly? He will go to Azul and Jade and just mope around, telling them that he feels funny whenever your around. Jade chuckles as he explains to floyd why he feels like that, azul just looks annoyed as they are both now slacking from their job

He likes that your quite calm around him unlike the other people he normally goes off to bother, you actually can be around him for long periods of time without making him board or annoyed?! He will never say it or even admit it to himself but he really appreciates you more then he knows, he likes having his little shrimpy around

I like the head cannon that floyd teeths (teevths?), he likes chewy types of food and stuff that he can just chew on. Calamari, mints, gum, chewy meats, carrots, really cheesy foods, so many different types of noodles, heck! even some types of edible coral. If he doesn't have anything around him to use, he will chew on your cheeks. He wont make you bleed necessarily, he Justs like to have that mouth stimulation

Calls you "shrimpy" "guppy" "Koebi chan" "Little shrimp"

I feel like he is the type of person to sit and lay in the most random poses during the most random times. Your in ramshackle together? His legs are folded together in the air while he lays on his back, arms splayed out as he just talks to you like its normal.

When the octo-trio first saw grass, jade and azul had to hold floyd back from taking a bite out of the grass

He loves to cuddle you when you two are alone, even deciding to cuddle you in public. He loves holding you in his arms while he rests his face against your neck, having your chin rest on top of his head while you play with his hair. In public, he will be more modest and probably just sit next to you and rest his head on you, he likes lettng the other little guppies see that your his

Floyd loves to randomly steal you away, picking you up easily before dragging you to the monstro lounge for some drinks and food

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I know this was abit different to my other fics and im sorry if it isnt that good. This was difficult to write because im in abit of a writers rut right now, but im enjoying the way it turned out! He was fun to write about but i do think i could have done better

Who should i do next?

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eumppattv · 1 day

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ only for you

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing: riize x reader! fluff and slight angst ₊⊹

ᥫ᭡。 sides riize only show to you, their love ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

𓍯𓂃 shotaro- his serious side

although shotaro can be pretty hard on the guys during practice, he usually reverts back to his smiley self almost instantly. his seriousness with you is a different kind, one that lingers. you’ll be at home, and find him working at his desk. he will talk to you about what he’s working on, what needs to be improved and so on. you love see him serious about his work, and also see him be serious when it comes to your relationship.

𓍯𓂃 eunseok- his jealous side

let’s be honest, eunseok is unpredictable. you never know which version of him you’re getting. still, he’s usually pretty calm and collected. that’s why him getting jealous is always a shock to you. his usual calm demeanor is replaced by his need to keep you to himself. you’ll be talking to a member, and all is well until you’re alone. that’s when he will confess he was jealous, a pout adorning his face.

𓍯𓂃 sungchan- his anxious side

sungchan is playful, carefree and relaxed. you often find yourself flustered by his words and actions, with his confidence being his best trait. although teasing you is his favorite pastime, sungchan also finds comfort in knowing he can share his fears with you, without judgement. with you he can let the mask he puts on go, even if it’s just for a couple minutes.

𓍯𓂃 wonbin- his romantic side

wonbin can be very shy at times. to others it seems that you aren’t even close, and they wonder how you make your relationship work. but really he is just private, and behind closed doors he is as romantic as they come. he will often buy you flowers, and organize date nights. he will write you letters, songs, and send you romantic messages every day. that’s how he shows his love for you.

𓍯𓂃 seunghan- his insecure side

it’s true that seunghan never misses an opportunity to tease you. plenty of “you like me so much huh” and “you think i’m so hot” have been exchanged. but what he doesn’t let others see is the moments where he doubts if you really do love him. when he doubts if he’s the right fit for you. really he is just scared that one day you won’t be around, so he will put so much pressure on himself to be perfect. in the end, he knows you accept his confidence and his moments of doubt.

𓍯𓂃 sohee- his quiet side

if there’s anyone who can brighten your mood, it’s sohee. his loud energetic personality can make anyone’s day. but with you he can relax, and not have to worry about being the mood maker. afternoons are spent laying down on your phones, not thinking about what to say or what to do. with you, sohee can bask in silence- no expectations, just peace. and although he can be shy with others, the silence he shares with you isn’t one of awkwardness, but of love.

𓍯𓂃 anton- his loud side

everyone knows anton as the soft speaker, always teasing him about it. while he always shows that side of him, with you it’s different. he’ll let himself get loud when he’s teasing you, or when you’re competing against each other- mario kart gets intense with him. he’ll also be loud when he’s calling out to you, whether it be at home or at an outing. he truly lets loose with you, showing you how much love he has for you.

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#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ eumppattv #riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize anton #riize wonbin #riize sohee #riize seunghan #riize eunseok #riize sungchan #riize shotaro #riize fluff #riize headcanons #riize x you

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crumblinggothicarchitecture · 9 hours

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It's Bothering me so much that Taylor Swift is so fake smart-girl coded, I need to say this:

I have a degree in both Philosophy and English Literature....

She used the term Soliloquy wrong in her song by using it to refer to people espousing nonsense while complaining in an echo-chamber about her.

Instead, a soliloquy is the most honest and introspective a character will ever be. Often the character will stand to the front center of the stage and, as if in a dream, speak openly to themselves (and in respect to the audience) lay out the truth, or the agony of whichever conflict haunts the plot. So, anyway she's just plain wrong in her usage of the term.

I am not giving a sanctimonious soliloquy. Miss Taylor Swift, you are wrong and I am speaking honestly.

Also, for the record, I don't think Taylor Swift knows anything of substance about Aristotle. I, on the other hand, took a three-hour long oral exam over Aristotle's life work while out-of-my-mind-high on Dayquil and pain meds after a surgery. I got an "A", and, somehow, I lived through that, I doubt the validity of Swift's claims to know anything at all about philosophy. Especially, considering how all her songs are about as deep as a puddle.

She's completely lost her credibility.

The women did not even finish High School in a traditional, well-rounded way. I think she read a handful of Joe's books and now thinks real highly of herself.

Edit: I don't mean to make fun of her for being dumb. I'm frustrated that she's "stepping on my lawn" and making her legion of fans think that she totally knows what she's talking about when it comes to literary references in her work or philosophy. It's obvious that she does not actually understand the concepts she attempts to engage with.

Her only real literary skill is name dropping actually talented writers or philosophers in her songs.

Edit 2: Since some people want to come on this post and tell me that I am being needlessly pedantic about her use of words. Go away. A soliloquy is an ancient literary form, one which transcends cultures and centuries, and I as a scholar of English Literature am in the position to say that Swift is speaking about the form incorrectly. She obviously did not even google the form, it's clear she has very little real acquaintance with half the literature concept or authors she names drops.

Sure soliloquy's can be unreliable (Hamlet's "To Be, or not to be" is the most obvious example) .However the fact of the matter is that soliloquy hinges on the Honesty of the character. Swift writing that it's actually the opposite of honesty proves to me that she has no real idea about the literary form.

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift eras #taylornation #taylor swift #taylurking #english literature #english lit student #philosophy #joe alwyn #free joe alwyn #the tortured poets department #ttpd #ts ttpd #ts the tortured poets department #ts theories

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magpiepills · 2 days

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Made Me Love You

Chapter 1

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing Joel Miller x f reader x Tommy Miller

work count: 4.0

Summary: you’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel. Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant!

Warnings: PIV, oral (m and f receiving) dirty talk, voyeurism, male masturbation, jealousy, cuckolding, big dicks, bigger dicks, praise kink, cream pies, no use of Y/N, no physics description of reader, fingering, infidelity, size kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, cum eating, feelings, angst, girlfriend sharing, age gap unspecific everyone is 18+ and consenting, terrible editing, shitty formatting. etc., etc., so on and so forth.

A word from the author: This is a repost! The ol’ bangfest! I don’t know what else can be said.

You and Tommy are very handsy. He’s always got an arm slung around you, a hand on your hip, his fingers laced in yours, his head on your shoulder, or his lips peppering you with kisses. Even in front of family and friends. Most everyone was used to him hanging on you every moment you were together now, if not a little grossed out by the nonstop PDA.

When you were with his brother, Joel, though- he seemed like he was waiting his turn, watching expectantly when Tommy kissed you and squeezed your ass. Following Tommy’s hand with his eyes as it rubbed up and down your thigh on the couch. He never said anything, never touched you, but you got the feeling he might’ve wanted to. If you were honest with yourself, you wanted him to want to. He was gorgeous, charming, funny, friendly, and if the ever present bulge in his pants was any indication, he was hung. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be pinned under him, stuffed full and panting. Sometimes when it was Tommy on top of you, you let your mind transform him into his older brother. It was a dangerous thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Now, for five days you’d be sharing a hotel room with Tommy and Joel while Tommy had a conference and you had meetings. Joel had free time between projects of his own and came to meet you, insisting that your downtime could be spent relaxing together on the beach, going to dinner, and seeing the sights. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Tommy was adamant that you all share a room for as much time together as possible.

Nothing was planned for the night, you had late meetings and you assumed Tommy and Joel would go out together. You were surprised to walk into the room and see they were both in bed, under the covers, Tommy with a book and Joel scrolling on his phone. They looked like they were in for the night, suitcases open and half unpacked, snacks and cups on the table, tv on the corner tuned to a soccer game with the volume too low to hear. It was nice walking into such casual relaxation. You kissed Tommy hello, then went to the shower, taking your time to wash and condition your hair, shaving your legs, slathering on lotion and oil, before going about an abbreviated version of your skincare routine. You brushed, flossed, and flicked off the bathroom light on your way out, ready to fall into bed, hoping for deep and dreamless sleep.

You expected Joel would vacate your spot and get into the empty and unrumpled bed not three feet away, but he was still firmly in place when you stood beside them, phone and sleep mask in your hand, big t-shirt covering your ass, but not by much. You were the picture of bedtime readiness. Joel didn’t even glance up from his phone and you gave Tommy an almost audible look, expecting him to oust his brother. Instead he pulled you closer, wrapped an arm around your hips and down onto him. “You smell so good, baby. I’ve been thinking of you all day.” His voice was low and sweet, and if you were alone you’d have pressed your hips down into his and shown him that you’d had some thoughts of your own, but…you weren’t. Joel still scrolled on his phone, oblivious. Damn him. Tommy was undeterred. He pulled you tight against him, kissing your neck, rubbing his warm hands down your back, pulling the hem of your shirt up enough to squeeze your ass. You wiggled in protest, very much aware of your company. “He doesn’t care.” Tommy assured you. “Do you care, Joel?” Now he looks up from his phone. Of course. He looks at you, sprawled over your boyfriend, panties exposed, neck shining where Tommy had been kissing and sucking up and down from your ear to your shoulder. He took in the sight before answering “I don’t care, baby.” You knew he was teasing, but the pet name and the proximity gave you the tiniest thrill.

With his older brother’s blessing, Tommy resumed his groping. If they didn’t care, why did you care? It felt unreal to be thinking such a thing, let alone be doing it. You relaxed a bit. Returning his kisses, deepening them, seeking his tongue with yours, pulling his bottom lip into your mouth, giving it a nibble. “Missed you today.” You cooed at him before kissing his neck the way he’s kissed yours, knowing how he would respond.

As predicted, you felt him shift under you, the fell-tale bulge growing against your hip. He groaned and bucked up gently, then surprised you by rolling you onto your side next to him, into the middle of the bed. You felt Joel’s firm shoulder and arm against your back, but he didn’t move. He only shifted onto his side to face you when Tommy threw off his blankets and sank down next to you, leaning into your kiss, one hand at the back of your neck, fingers twining in your hair, and the other on your naked hip, pressing you down into the mattress and rubbing with his thumb. “Show me you missed me. I don’t believe you.”

His words moved you, flipping a switch in your brain that needed to prove yourself, to claim him, to make him love you best. If he wanted to play this game, you’d play and win. You still didn’t know why his brother was in your bed watching all this, but you didn’t care anymore. Maybe he wanted to play the game too. Tommy certainly didn’t seem to mind the company. Not if his fully hard cock was any indication. You wondered if Joel was hard too, but you didn’t dare look at him to see. Not yet. You wanted to see how far Tommy would let this go first. You pulled your shirt over your head and let it fall to the floor, pulled him closer with your leg over his hip, and reached into his boxers to take his length into both hands, squeezing and gliding over the fat head and thick, velvety shaft. You kept his gaze, and stroked him slowly.

“Thought about doing this. Thought about your cock in my throat, too. Stayed wet the whole day.” Your voice is somewhere between a whisper and a moan, meant for Tommy’s ears, but just loud enough for Joel to hear and imagine you’re talking to him. Tommy responded how you knew he would. “Suck it for me? Hm? Just a little, baby. Let me see how you missed me.” He laid on his back again, one leg straight, the other bent, foot planted on the mattress to open himself up to you. You scoot down, leaving kisses in a trail down his chest and stomach. You kissed his thighs, and heard blankets ruffling beside you. You ventured a peek over your shoulder , and were met with his Joel’s dark stare. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or enjoying your little performance. As if he could read your mind, though, he rubbed the blankets over what you can only guess was his erection. This was new. You let him see you watching him, then you flick your gaze back to Tommy, but he had already caught on and was looking at his brother too. You didn’t wait to see his reaction, you bit his thigh, licked down to his balls, and took one in your mouth while you languidly stroked him, watching the sensation wash over his face. Tommy isn’t a very vocal lover, but you can tell when he’s enjoying himself by the flush of his chest and cheeks and the way his chest expands with every breath. You wonder if Joel is still watching, admittedly excited by the idea of him getting off on the sight of you.

Joel is older, and if you were being honest, better looking than Tommy. They had the same smile, but Joel’s eyes were kinder and his dimple made him look boyish. His shoulders and arms were thick with muscle and his chest was broad. He wasn’t lanky like Tommy. He looked stronger. Bigger.

You shift onto your knees, ass in the air, guiding his length into your mouth and against the back of your throat, lips tight around the base of Tommy’s cock. You use your free hand to maneuver him onto his back to get him deeper and to give Joel a better view. When you started sucking up and down the full length of Tommy’s cock, slurping and gagging obscenely, Tommy spoke. “Look at this. Look how good she takes a cock. Fuck. So fucking deep.” You smiled around him at the praise and looked up at him, batting your lashes innocently. You heard more movement from beside, and from the corner of your eye, you saw Joel moving a bit closer, and watching you intently. Spurred on by their attention, you reach between your own legs, rubbing your clit through your panties. “You like when he watches?” Tommy asks, astonished and amazed. Your hum around his cock was your answer.

Joel’s head was spinning. He didn’t see this in the cards for tonight. Didn’t expect to be watching his little brother’s girlfriend sucking him off and touching herself, but he was pleased with this turn of events. He had been watching you all week, loving how you looked in your dresses and how you were always touching Tommy, holding his hand, grasping his arm, kissing him, hugging him, and he didn’t feel at all guilty when he came into the room yesterday afternoon and saw him rubbing your pussy under your swimsuit. You were on the balcony and when you didn’t notice him coming into the room he watched shamelessly, growing hard with jealousy and desire. He had showered in the middle of the afternoon just to give himself some relief. He had soaped his body, paying special attention to his heavy, aching cock. His grip was firm, like he imagined your cunt would be. He held his breath when he came, eyes squeezed shut, leaning with one hand on the shower wall to keep him upright, the water was hot, but the water pressure was low and the water carried his spend down the drain slowly as he watched it disappear, thinking how he’d rather it be painted across your heaving chest.

Watching you now, knowing that you knew he was watching, knew he was touching himself, and that you were into it sparked something intense in Joel. He watched you, rapt as you pulled off Tommy’s cock and turned your head, freezing under your gaze, only to melt again when he felt your hand on his hip, dangerously close to his growing erection.

Tommy’s voice was lower now, urging you on. “You should suck his cock.” You smirked at the older Miller as you repositioned yourself to make room for him to get even closer, then held Tommy’s hand and you leaned up to kiss his brother. Joel’s lips were soft and warm, opening for you easily to deepen the kiss before he let go. He threw his own blankets off, giving you your first good look at his sizable erection straining around his obnoxious neon green boxers. “You want this, sweetheart? I’ll let you take it. Look so pretty with a dick in your mouth.” You looked back to Tommy. His eyes were dark and his lips were parted, stroking himself and watching his brother make you blush with his dirty suggestions. “Do it. Let me see. Take it all.” You kissed Tommy once more before turning your attention back to Joel.

You stroked his length over his boxers, your touch making his hard cock twitch and his hips jolt up into your hand. You stroked him lightly with your fingertips, then slipped his boxers down. You couldn’t help how your jaw dropped. Fuck it’s big. Easily seven inches long, and thick. Bigger than you’d guessed just from the times you’d noticed how it bulged in his slutty, tight pants and bounced against his shorts. Joel closed his eyes and moaned softly. “Take it out. Go ahead. Want you to feel it. See what you’re doing to me.” It was a sight to behold. His cock was beautiful. It was tan and had a vein on one side, the throbbing, weeping head a pretty blush under his foreskin. For Tommy’s sake, you tried to hide your shock and delight, but Joel smirked. You set back to work, taking his turgid member in hand, pumped his shaft with a loose grip and slowly bent to lick from the underside of the base to the top, where you gave him another small flick of your tongue. You sucked his head, tasting his precum, salty and mild. The more of him you worked into your mouth, the more you wanted, the further your mind wandered to the possibilities of having them both. Deep in your throat now, Joel was groaning softly and babbling encouragement. “Yes. Yes, just like that. Fuck. Fuck. Suck it. Doing so good…” he was getting closer, but you wouldn’t get to feel him spill into your throat.

You felt a hand fan over the curve of your ass and land a heavy swat on it, followed by a gentle rub Tommy slid his thick fingers down to find your panties wet and clinging to the swollen lips of your pussy. He dragged his fingers over the damp fabric a few times, letting the fabric tease your clit before pulling your panties down to lick firmly up your seam. The sound of his moan collided mid-air with Joel’s whine at the loss of your warm, wet mouth. Tommy knew exactly how to take you apart with his tongue, licking a slick ellipse around your clit, flattening his tongue to cover your vestibule, and teasing your entrance with one, then two thick fingers. Your pussy thrummed for him, and you were lost for a few moments in bliss before he buried his digits to the knuckles and set a steady rhythm, pumping them in and out while sucking your clit, bringing your climax down around you like only he could. You were suddenly shy, realizing you’d just come while still holding your boyfriend’s brother’s cock in your hand.

Joel looked wrecked. He couldn’t get enough of you. He’d take whatever he could get. He didn’t let the hope of sinking his own cock into you and making you cry his name take him out of the moment unfolding before him. “Look so beautiful when you come.”

“Are you going to let him watch while I fuck you?” You considered for a moment and gave him your most devious smile. “Dirty man. I think you’d love it if he watched I bet you want to watch me fuck him too.” Tommy stilled for a moment and you worried you’d said too much, and you wanted to swallow your words, take it all back, but then a smile broke across his face. “Me first, though.” You knew Tommy was an exhibitionist, he loved how people looked when he kissed and squeezed you. This was on another level, though and you had never been more turned on. Two strong, tan arms wrapped around you, pulling you upright and snug against a rock hard cock. Fingers splayed over your pussy, spreading your slickness around, then smoothing it over his cock before positioning himself at your entrance and guiding himself in slowly. You sighed and dropped your head back against Tommy’s shoulder, your hand finding Joel’s bent knee to steady yourself as Tommy’s thrusts grew harder, doing your best to meet them. His arms were still around you, one banding across your stomach, the other using your shoulder for leverage. Your eyes focused when you felt pressure on your clit and saw Joel, left hand cradling his balls, right hand over your mound, thumb against your swollen clit. His eyes were locked to yours, lusty when he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked it before replacing it, his saliva giving him better slip to rub you with. “Taking him so good, baby. Look at you. You’re loving this, aren’t you? You like letting us share you? Going to let me fill you next?” All at once it was too much and you reached your climax, waves of pleasure washing over you and making you feel light and dreamy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so cock drunk.” Tommy sounded awestruck and proud, he beamed at you and stroked your thighs as you came down from your high. “She looks like she needs more.” Joel’s voice was deeper and raspier than before. He looked at you now with open desire, so many more words unspoken and threatening to spill forth.

Tommy is still thrusting gently as you come down slowly from the high of your orgasm. “Come here, baby.” Joel is at once silky and firm, enticing and demanding. He pulls you toward him. “Can I fuck you next, sweet girl? I want to.” A pang of guilt fires in the back of your mind and as you lean into his pillowy lips, you turn and search Tommy’s expression for disapproval, but you only find hunger in his dark pupils as he nods, picking up his own pace, barreling into his own release. He’s really into this. With his blessing, and the feeling that he wants to push further, you let go of any remaining hesitation. You want to give him something to remember.

Locking into Joel’s soft, warm kiss, you situate yourself over him, holding yourself up with one elbow on the mattress and the other hand on Joel’s broad chest. He was unyielding beneath you. Tommy neared his finish and watched glossy-eyed as your ass is squeezed and your tongue is sucked by another man.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl, letting us have you like this. You’re incredible. Keeping you all to himself all this time. Tan tacaño.” Joel groaned, his praise shot right back into your pussy and you clenched hard, giving Tommy just what he needed to come. He thrust harder, three, four, five, six times before stuttering his hips and spilling into your cunt. Joel pressed his length into the soft skin of your belly, and reached up to cup your breasts, pushing, pinching your nipples, rolling them under his flattened fingers, your nerve endings firing all over your body. When Tommy pulled away, he sat back on his heels to watch his cum dripping out of you, and lovingly pushed as much as he could back in.

You broke Joel’s kiss to press your lips to Tommy’s when he laid down back in his original spot, next to his brother. “Love you.” You sighed between kisses. Not to be forgotten, Joel began to slide his fingers along the folds of your sensitive pussy. You moaned into Tommy’s mouth. For the first time you sensed something of jealousy or maybe competitiveness and while you should probably be giving Tommy extra attention, making sure he knows he’s your one and only, you decide instead to stoke the flames. You let Joel push you back onto the bed, you’d head now at the bottom of the bed as he started a trail of open mouthed kisses from your mound, over your hip, across your stomach, to the underside of each breast, before stopping to suck your hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking, gently palming the other before switching. He knew exactly how to work you into a needy mess for him, even after two orgasms. He dropped his hips between your thighs and brought his left knee up to wedge under your ass, opening you up for him. He pulled off your nipple with a pop. “Do you want me? Want this?” He said as he stroked his dock, rubbing it against your clit. “You can say no. I don’t think you want to, though. I think you’ve wanted this for a long time. I've seen you looking, sweetheart. Thought you were being sneaky. Dirty girl. One cock’s not enough, is it?” “Need it. Need you, Joel. Want you inside.” He huffed a cocky chuckle into your neck. “Knew it.” He notched at your entrance and inched in, letting you adjust to his size. You sighed at how full you felt already. “It’s a lot. I know. You can take it.” His reassurance didn’t help you relax as he pushed in deeper, working himself and Tommy’s cum further and further. You couldn’t stop the pathetic cries that left your lips as he set a slow but steady rhythm. Each thrust drove him deeper until he was fully seated.

Tommy was entranced,sitting up to watch from behind his brother. He had recorded the two off you before, and together you’d watch him fuck you senseless, but this, seeing you up close like this, hearing your moans and cries, the wet sounds of your willing pussy, seeing your cunt stretching and fluttering, his cum leaking out with every thrust, he was mesmerized and growing harder. He had thought of this before, wanting to share you, see you from the outside, he wondered if you’d agree, imagined it when he jerked off, never getting up the courage to ask you to give him this. Now that it was happening he wanted more. Wanted to see you desperate and cock hungry, a slut for him and whoever he’d let try you next. Of course Joel would be the one to make it happen. He was magnetic and disarming and everyone loved him. He had seen how you’d looked at his brother, how your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of his dick in his pants. He had seen Joel looking at you, too. Eye fucking you across rooms. Now here he is, ruining you right before his eyes. He wasn’t sure this could be topped.

Joel was warm and sweating, cheeks flushed under his scruffy, graying beard. His hair was a tousled mess, and you raked through it, wanting to see if he looked as devastated as you felt. His eyes were dark and sharp and his lips were parted as he panted. He dipped his head to nip along your neck. “Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you like this. So tight. So perfect. Beautiful. Look so good taking my cock.” You slipped your hands between your bodies and gathered wetness- either yours or Tommy’s, and rubbed your clit in tight circles, feeling your release approaching fast, egged on by the vulgar things Joel was saying. “Harder, Joel. Fuck. Harder.” He let go and slammed his hips against yours, making you cry his name again, white light blurring your vision, and you felt Tommy grab your hand in his, whispering in your ear “Come for us, sweetheart. Come on my brother’s cock for me.” That was it. Your hips jerked and your back arched, eyes squeezed shut. Joel didn’t falter until he found his own release, filling you as promised with thick ropes of hot cum. No sooner than he had pulled out and sat back to see his handiwork seep out, Tommy was above you, jerking off over your pussy, lacing his cum on top.

You’d collapsed breathlessly onto the top-small bed for countless minutes before Tommy got up to fetch a couple washcloths and Joel held you against his chest, kissing your hair. “Are you ok?” He sounded nervous that you might regret your trust already. His eyes were big and soft and concerned, and your heart ached a little for him. “I’m good.”

Once you were all cleaned up and nourished with cold, leftover pizza, you turned in for the night. Tommy fell asleep fast, but you turned on your side trying to get comfortable. You met Joel's gaze across the short distance between the two beds, and when he reached out, you took his hand, wondering what would happen in the daylight, what might happen while Tommy was away.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #Joel miller #joel miller smut #Joel miller x you x Tommy miller #bat writes #smut #bangfest

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lordprettyflackotara · 2 days

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paradise || sam golbach

SMUT. minors dni fr. 18+ this one is ummm. i’d say it’s for the humiliation & harder kink leaning girls only !! i have so many fics in the work i promise imma feed all of the different fandoms that follow me🙏🏼 enjoy mwah !

How did one woman change Sam’s life so drastically?

How did you change his life so drastically?

Sam couldn’t escape you. He thought of you every day, the image of you burned into his mind. You were like a parasite, one that had buried itself into the depths of his brain.

It didn’t matter what he did or where he went. He tried everything to forget you. Or at the very least to think of you less. Sam felt like he was slipping, losing control of his own thoughts. He traveled wherever, trying to distract himself.

It didn’t matter where he went, he felt like he wasn’t in control of his own desires.

Logically, Sam knew anything he felt for you was wrong. Any filthy fantasy, craving, or romantic thought, was a sin. After all, you were Colby’s little sister.

Colby was only a couple of years older than you, the age gap one that originally steered Sam away from you. Growing up with Colby, you were always around. You did your own thing, preoccupied in building a simple life for yourself. You opted to be out of the spotlight, politely declining any invitation to be apart of their content.

But then, you disappeared for a few years. Sam hadn’t seen you since high school. You went away to an out of state University, while Sam and Colby both moved across the country to pursue being content creators. If Sam was being honest with himself, despite his current obsession, he had forgotten about you for a while.

After all, he was in the major league now. He had girlfriends come and go, hookups, anything and everything he could ever need. Sam firmly believed, at the time at least, he was in paradise. He was on a high, one that he thought he couldn’t be knocked down from. So when one of Colby’s cousins was getting married, he didn’t think twice about the invitation, nor being his plus one.They did everything together, both boys pretty much members of each other’s families. Everything should’ve went the way Sam expected it to, but it didn’t.

Those predicted thoughts and plans were all shattered the moment he saw you. You were borderline unrecognizable. Sam couldn’t figure it out, staring at you as you walked down the aisle as one of the bridesmaids. Your face had matured, a decent amount of your soft skin revealed in the dress you were wearing. Your back was almost completely exposed, the sight making Sam shift awkwardly in his chair like a thirteen year old boy.

He could feel the blood rushing to his cock, his face turning the faintest shade of pink. Was he really getting hard? Over seeing some skin? Sam mentally rolled his eyes at himself. He had seen much crazier things. Yet, the simplicity of your back was enough to send him in a frenzy. As you gazed over at the audience, your eyes met his, a small smile creeping up your lips. Sam delivered a discreet wave, your smile growing bigger at the sight. Your eyes then flickered back to the bride, your attention returning to the wedding.

Somehow, someway, for some reason, that made Sam jealous. Sam was not a jealous person. Or he didn’t consider himself to be. The after party was more Sam’s speed, the loud music and alcohol provided something he was used to. Sam didn’t drink often, deciding to stay sober for the most part. (After one too many drunken hookups, he learned his lesson.) He monitored Colby the best he could, the brunette talking up a girl Sam didn’t recognize.

Awkwardly Sam sat at one of the round tables, his phone dead and eyes glazed over from boredom.

“Sam?”

Your voice was like heroin.

Sam’s head perked up, his eyes flickering to yours. You sat down beside him, skipping the small talk and immediately trying to catch up. As you told him about your University adventures Sam couldn’t help but stare at you. Your elegant makeup complimented you perfectly, your pink lips moving a mile a minute. He hung onto every word, every time you laughed at one of his jokes.

The party was beginning to die down, older family members going their separate ways. You nervously bit your bottom lip, asking Sam a question he could’ve only dreamed of:

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here?”

Sam felt euphoric when you pulled him into the back seat of your car. When you placed your lips against his, when your small hands began to fiddle with his belt.

He remembered the sweet sound of your moans. The way you whimpered for him, begging for him to not stop. How tight your cunt squeezed him, the way your lips pressed against his with such passion. As if you had been yearning for him all of those years you were away. The way you looked into his eyes as you came around his cock was all Sam could ever think about.

Attempting to return to his normal life was pure agony. Having to look Colby in the eye the next day was a nightmare, his little sister’s mouth wrapped around his cock the night before. Attempting to continue making content was even harder, Sam’s mind wrapped around the memory of you. He tried to ignore it, but his fans knew something was up. The comments of concern grew overwhelming, the blonde deciding to take a break from social media all together.

Colby recommended that he try to take a well deserved vacation to try to get himself together. Colby didn’t think much of his behavior, figuring he was just in a slump. Sometimes making too much content was draining. He figured he just needed a long break.

Sam tried. Genuinely, he tried to move on. He visited Florida, the waves of the beach not enough to drown out the memory of your moans. He tried New York next, the tourist actions not indulging enough to get him to forget you. Every time he attempted to focus his mind would begin remembering, the sight of you falling apart on his fingers.

It was never enough.

He sat in his hotel room, contemplating booking another flight. Maybe to Mexico. Maybe that would fix it. He flipped apps to instagram, a picture of you showing up on his timeline. Of course. What were the odds? You were posing with a friend, standing in front of a picture of your University.

He bit his bottom lip, knowing his desire to come see you was absurd. It was reckless, completely and utterly insane. If you didn’t react well, his friendship with Colby could be entirely ruined. But what if you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you?

Fuck it.

Sam stood at the door of your dorm, becoming increasingly nervous. He could feel his heart beginning to pound, his mouth running dry. Admittedly he felt guilty about finding your personal information like this. Then having the audacity to show up at your front door unannounced. He almost thought about walking away, but then he heard your laugh. The mesmerizing sound of your sweet laughter.

Sam cleared his throat, before knocking on your door. It was quiet for a moment, the sound of locks being unlocked filling his ears. Timidly you pulled the door open, surprised to see anyone at your doorstep. Your eyes widened at the sight of Sam, shocked he was standing in front of you.

“Sam?”

Sam could feel his heart pounding louder, adrenaline running through his veins. He brushed past you, entering the apartment. You awkwardly closed the door, more confused than anything. “I know this is inappropriate but I can’t stop thinking about you,” Sam confessed. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “I don’t know why, but ever since that night at the wedding I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It’s been driving me crazy,” He continued, rambling on.

You tilted your head to the side as you watched him pace back and forth like a madman. “I have tried everything in my power to move on. But I can’t. Your pussy is like fucking heroin, okay? And I can’t stop thinking about you and that night,” Sam babbled. His tongue was moving a mile a minute, showing no signs of slowing down.

“Do you know how many times i’ve jerked off to the thought of you? Just the mere thought? You’re so addicting that I-”

An awkward cough came from behind him, your roommate gawking at the blonde in front of her. She looked back and forth from you to him, as if she was trying to process what was happening. “This is Sam?” She asked, dumbfounded. Sam felt his face turn red as his eyes flickered back and forth from you to her. Your face was nearly as dark as his.

“Uh huh.”

“The Sam that fucked you at the wedding?”

“Uh huh.”

“The same guy who made you cum like five times-”

“Emma!”

Emma raised her hands in defeat, sliding off of her chair. “I’m going to let you guys uh, figure this out,” She said. You watched as she walked over to the stairs, nodding profusely and giving you two thumbs up. You refrained from face palming, turning your attention back to Sam.

Sam was tongue tied, to say the very least. He was filled with embarrassment, his red face telling you everything you needed to know. You approached Sam slowly, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Did you mean that?” You asked softly. Sam worked up the courage to meet your eyes, looking down at you. Your hands on his shoulders was enough to make butterflies fly around in his stomach.

“Mean what?”

“Everything you just said.”

Sam was dumbfounded by your question. Had he not been clear enough?

“If you asked me to get on my knees and beg you to fuck me id do it without a second thought.”

You bit your bottom lip, eyeing Sam’s body.

“And Colby?”

He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side.

“What about him?”

You sighed, taking a step closer to him.

“Does he have any idea about this? About us?”

The blonde took a moment to rack his brain, searching for any clues he might’ve accidentally left. Obviously he hadn’t said a word to Colby, refraining from bringing you up at all. If he happened to bring you up, Sam would change the topic immediately. “No he doesn’t,” He answered honestly. You pressed your body against his, the room seemingly growing to a hundred degrees. “He’s going to find out eventually you know, are you going to be able to handle that?” You asked.

Handle being skinned alive by Colby? Piece of cake. An absolute walk in the park. Sam would do it in a heartbeat, all for you. “Yeah,” Sam agreed. His eyes darted down to your lips, the urge to kiss you overwhelming him.

“I think you should stay for a while.”

Sam couldn’t help himself, the blonde leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. They were as soft and plump as he remembered, your arms wrapping around his neck. As delicate as the kiss was, Sam remembered a very important part of why he was addicted to you. You liked it fucking rough.

Sam’s hands slithered down to your waist, pulling you closer to him as if you were going to disappear. “Jump for me,” He whispered, his lips refusing to stray from yours. You did as he asked, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back roughly hit your living room wall, knocking over a couple of photo frames off of a shelf. You gasped as you heard them clatter to the floor, Sam’s lips trailing down your face to the side of your neck.

“Sam be careful, I do have a roommate you know,” You whimpered, his lips preoccupied with littering your neck with hickies. His hips grinded against yours, your core beginning to throb with desire. “She’ll be fine, you can tell her about the five more orgasms I give you,” Sam purred, licking the side of your neck. His lips trailed up to your ear, nibbling at it gently. You groaned his name, tugging at his blonde hair.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Sam confessed, his hips bucking against yours. You giggled, meeting his gaze. “You better fuck me like you mean it then,” You replied. Sam smirked at your response. He carried you over to the couch, tugging at the hem of your shirt. He needed to see you, to feel you. You both stripped each other, desperate to see the other one exposed. Sam tried to ignore his raging boner as he admired you.

“Fuck, you’re ethereal,” Sam praised. He lowered himself down to your stomach, teasingly pressing kisses down to your cunt. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Purposefully he fanned his hot breath over your folds, your cunt dripping in arousal. “So wet, this all for me?” Sam asked. You attempted to push him into your cunt, his head not moving.

“Sammy, no teasing, please,” You whined. Sam wasn’t one to deny you of that, lowering himself into your cunt. His tongue lapped at your slick like a starved man, rotating licking to sucking at your clit. Roughly he brought two fingers to your entrance, relishing in the feeling of your walls struggling to take his fingers. Your juices coated his chin, his eyes meeting yours. “How are you going to take my cock if you’re struggling to take my fingers?” Sam asked teasingly. You moaned in response, his fingers curling and hitting your g spot.

You threw your head back, squeezing your thighs around Sam’s head. A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh, a gasp escaping your lips. “Look at me, fucking look at me as you become a stupid slut for me,” Sam ordered. You had no room to argue, your body a slave to the pleasure. Sam matched your energy, providing you with the rough dominant rough sex you craved. You forced yourself to maintain eye contact with him, your sinful moans bouncing off of the living room walls.

“Thats right, moan just like that. Let Emma and all of your neighbors know who this cunt belongs to,” Sam growled. His fingers were merciless, a third finger sliding into you. Your hands flew down to his hair, tugging at the roots as a knot began forming into your stomach. Your eyes were threatening to flutter shut, every ounce of energy you had dedicated to maintaining eye contact.

“Awe are you close already?” Sam smirked, your orgasm growing closer and closer. He spread open your folds, admiring your cunt. “Fuck, i’m going to fuck you so stupid,” He grumbled, reattaching his mouth to your clit. His strong hands forced your legs open, your thighs trembling as you came. Sam’s lips were relentless, sucking and swirling around your clit as you came on his face. As you rode out your high you threw your head back, your heart racing.

Sam couldn’t hide his ego as he emerged from between your legs. “On your knees, slut. Now,” He barked. You scrambled to meet his command, your knees hitting the wooden floor. “Open your mouth for me,” He snarled. The moment you did so his cum soaked fingers were shoved in your mouth, all three of them. You did the best you could to suck them clean, the taste of your own juices coating your tongue. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, teasing him.

“Thats a good girl,” Sam purred in satisfaction. He removed his fingers from your mouth, eagerly replacing them with his cock. Your mouth was heaven, Sam watching in amazement as you began taking him further without a second thought. He hadn’t even needed to tell you to. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Sam muttered, grabbing your hair. He ensured to make it into a nice ponytail, before forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

The sound of you gagging was pure ecstasy. Sam admired as saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth. Down to your chin. Then pooling onto the wooden floor in front of your knees. The blonde couldn’t think straight as his hips moved on their own, lost in his own personal euphoria as he face fucked you. You did your best to maintain eye contact with him, tears flooding your waterline. “You’re such a whore, fuck,” Sam groaned.

He briefly yanked you off of his cock, watching you gasp for gulps of air. Saliva dripped down his cock, tears officially spilling from your waterline. Sam’s cock twitched at the sight, your mouth reattaching itself to him. Mesmerized, Sam watched as you sucked his cock, your tongue swirling and wrapping around his tip. Sam whimpered as his own high came quickly, the blonde yanking you off of him. Your name was a mantra as he came, jerking his cock in front of you.

You flattened your tongue across your bottom lip, his ropes of cum painting your face. You swallowed what seed landed on your tongue, the rest of his cum staining his face. Sam guided you over to the couch. You stood eagerly, awaiting his instructions. “Cmere, come ride my thigh,” He said plainly. You planted yourself on his thigh, a whimper escaping your lips as your clit brushed against his bare skin. You went to wipe off your face, the blonde grabbing your wrist.

“No. Ride my thigh with my cum on your face. Show me that’s how much of a whore you are,” Sam ordered. You grabbed onto Sam’s thigh for support, steadying yourself before slowly rolling your hips downwards. You couldn’t hide your whimpers, your clit overstimulated. Sam watched in awe, your hips slowly grinding against him. “Go faster,” Sam commanded. He didn’t want to be easy on you, he wanted to see you squirm.

Your thighs shook as you attempted to follow his command, your cheeks turning a shade of bright red as the humiliation set in. You weren’t going fast enough for Sam, his large hands grabbing your waist. His fingers dug into your skin harshly, guiding you to ride his thigh faster. “Sam- Feels so good, I- fuck,” You slurred. Your hips struggled to keep up with Sam’s movements, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt your second orgasm coming.

Sam could feel himself growing hard again at the sight of you, blood rushing to his shaft as you pathetically did everything in your power to cum. “Cum for me, now,” Sam ordered. Unholy mantras of Sam’s name slipped from your lips, your thighs trembling as you came on his thigh. You felt dazed, your body trembling as Sam’s strong hands held you in place.

He lovingly brought his hand to your cheek, ignoring the cum that was gathering on his thumb. “You think you can handle me?” He asked gently. You mumbled an agreement, lifting your head to meet his eyes. You grabbed his wrist, redirecting his thumb into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, swallowing his cum. “Filthy filthy girl,” Sam muttered, guiding you into the next position.

You found yourself on the couch on all fours, ass in the air as Sam admired you. Your arch was divine, one he had seen before and had been yearning for all of this time. Teasingly he rubbed his tip up and down your slick, lubricating his cock for you. His eyes gleamed with pride as you squirmed at the slightest feeling of his tip brushing against your clit. One thing that Sam remembered, on top of everything else, was that you didn’t like to wait.

Aligning himself with your entrance, he quickly pushed himself inside. Sam would be fine with taking things slow, allowing your body to adjust to his cock. But you preferred to be slammed into, enjoying the pain that ever so slowly faded into pleasure. Sam let out a shaky groan as he bottomed out, euphoria clouding his senses.

Sam had traveled all over the world trying to forget about you, trying to seek paradise. One that would bring him to the state of blissful peace. But as his cock brushed against your g spot, the sweet sound of your whimpers flooding his ears, he came to a realization. Sam’s personal paradise was being buried into your cunt. Nothing else on the planet compared to the way you squeezed him, begged for him, kissed him, moaned for him. His paradise, overall, was you.

The blonde began moving his hips, your groans growing louder. Your walls clenched around him as Sam picked up the pace, he began panting curses with mixes of your name. “You feel so fucking tight, shit,” Sam groaned. He leaned over further, grabbing a handful of your hair as his cock abused your cervix. “You’re mine. My personal cock slut, understand?” He growled. He pushed your face into the couch, his cum staining the fabric below you.

“Y-yes sir,” You babbled, your body on cloud nine. Your thighs began to shake with every thrust, your body overstimulated and complete putty in Sam’s hands. Sam’s fast paced thrust were becoming greedy, the desire for him to reach his own high clouding his judgment. “Look at you, staining your couch with my cum all because I told you to. Such a pathetic whore for me,” Sam rambled, his hands digging into the sides of your waist.

You could feel your final orgasm approaching, your waterline flooded with tears as they dripped down your cheeks. “Sammy, gonna cum, please, don’t stop,” You pleaded. You tilted your head back, looking up at Sam as he pounded into you. His hand left your hair, slithering down to your throat. He squeezed the sides, restricting your airway. “Go on then, cum on my cock,” Sam muttered, thrust away from orgasming himself.

Your walls spasmed around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as Sam fucked you through your orgasm. You were seeing stars, your final orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. Sam pulled out quickly, his ropes of cum painting your ass and lower back.

He felt euphoric, the paradise he had been seeking right in front of him, covered in his cum. Your body was spent, your heart pounding in your chest as you came down from your high. Sam scrambled to find something to clean you up with, deciding his shirt would have to suffice. He wiped his seed off of your ass, gently helping you roll over onto your back.

A faint smile creeped across your lips, your mascara smudged and running down your cheeks. “The cumming on my face thing was hot, we should do that again,” You admitted, allowing Sam to clean your face. He chuckled at your confession, admiring your fresh face.

“I figured you’d like it.”

With all of the energy you had left you lifted your head, bringing your lips to his. This kiss was different, the desperation gone. Replaced with a certain sweetness and passion Sam hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands cupped your face, deepening the kiss. The sound of his ringtone, halted him from continuing. He mumbled an apology, digging his phone out of his discarded jeans.

“Oh shit it’s Colby, hang on.” Sam informed you. He resumed his place beside you on the floor, your soft lips leaving pecks of kisses on his shoulder.

“Hey brother, what’s up?”

“You want to explain to me why you’re at my little sister’s dorm?”

Shit.

#sam and colby #sam and colby smut #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x reader

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silkscream · 1 day

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our boredom's bone-deep

ੈ✩ aki hayakawa x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, drunk sex, angst, alcohol, smoking, hurt/comfort, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of s*icidal ideation

ੈ✩ wc: 3.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: theyre both so repressed. also sorry about the tswift reference guilty as sin is just on repeat this week

“Yo.”

Aki turns around to see you walking towards him. You join him on the balcony, reaching over to steal his cigarette back from the breast pocket of his windbreaker.

He looked good in civilian clothes. You didn’t see him like this often – out of his dress shirt and tie with his hair down. Dressed casually like he was a normal boy and not a hunter who signed his soul over.

“You can ask first, you know,” Aki grumbles, watching as you light up the cigarette in your mouth.

“You were going to say yes, anyway.”

He rolls his eyes, knowing that it’s true. He’d taken you to his apartment because it was closer to the location of the mission, offering aid to the wounds you’d gotten in the face of a devil. He didn’t have to. You could still walk and you certainly weren’t dying, but he felt the need to keep you close, anyway.

You chuckle when you see the irritated look on his face.

“Don’t pout.”

The cigarette in his mouth is burned down to the nub. You take it out, grazing the cherried end against the ceramic eightball ashtray you’d gotten him for Christmas the year before. The paint was chipping from how often he used it, speckles of white against the black paint.

You take another cig out from the pack before placing it back into his pocket, holding the stick between your fingers up to his mouth and lighting it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“You’re very welcome,” you grin.

You stay like that for a few minutes. Smoking and silent, staring at the sky post-golden hour, when everything is blanketed in cobalt blue bleeding into a light orange.

“How are your cuts?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckle. “Why do you worry so much? I’ve been around longer than you have, you know.”

Aki merely shrugs. He doesn’t look at you. Holds in his emotions like a geyser begging to stay dormant.

“I just do,” he says plainly.

“How sweet,” you scoff, flicking your cigarette off the railing. “Thought you liked me the least, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, irritated. “You’re the one who trained me. Obviously, I don’t hate you.”

You merely chuckle, discarding your blazer. Your uniform shirt is still slightly bloodied.

“What, you think I don’t like you?” Aki asks, a brow raised.

“I’d be surprised if you liked anyone,” you shrug. “But I can tell you have a soft spot for Denji and Power, even if you refuse to admit it.”

He grunts, looking away from you as he finishes his second cigarette. The late spring breeze blows his hair into his face. He doesn’t realize how close he is to you until he adjusts his arms on the balcony, his elbow grazing yours. You don’t react, your chin tucked into your arms as you lean forward. He looks at you with curiosity.

You look at him finally and grin.

“You look better with your hair down, you know.”

“I was thinking about cutting it,” he mumbles.

“Don’t. It’s cute. I always thought you looked kind of like a girl. The hair is working.”

He rolls his eyes again, grimacing. He tries to hide his flush.

“Thanks,” he deadpans. “You know how to make a guy feel special.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?” you grin. “You think I’m scary and mean? I’m very sweet to my lovers, you know.”

He could cringe. That wasn’t what he meant. He shivers at the word “lover” like it’s taboo, knowing very well that images of you are flooding his brain against his will. Your proximity makes it worse, how even despite both of you getting roughed up during your mission, you still smelled sweet to him.

“Yeah, right.”

“Do you really think I’m so cruel?” you challenge him. He’s not going to take the bait. He won’t.

“I’d assume you were a sadist.”

“You think I’m a sadist?” you laugh.

“Probably,” Aki grumbles. He fidgets.

He doesn’t want to take out another cigarette, but he’s convinced that it’s the only thing that would help him tolerate your presence right now. He’d felt unusual since he took you back to this apartment. His nose wrinkles at the memory of your body hours prior, your side saturated in blood. His rabbit heart thumping out of his chest at the thought you’d die in his arms — and yet here you are, next to him, teasing like you always do.

“Why?”

“Because you love pushing me to my limits,” he mutters.

“Oh, come on,” you chuckle. “It’s not like I treat you like a toy. I’m not Makima.”

“What does Makima have to do with this—”

“Because you listen to everything she says. It’s like all of you fucking worship her.”

Your voice sounds bitter, but Aki doesn’t want to pry about it. For some reason, something in his chest riles him, makes his heartbeat faster at the prospect that you might be jealous of his devotion to Miss Makima. You’d always clashed in your beliefs but was never particularly candid about it – you were like him. You wanted to kill devils for the sake of avenging your family, but you also seemed apathetic about your life. With no family or a promising future, you often didn’t care if you died. It was the most frustrating thing about you.

Aki huffs. “You hate following rules yet you’re still controlling. It’s hypocritical.”

“I am not controlling.”

“You are. And you love to torment me because I’m the only one willing to put up with your shit,” he says, laughing humorlessly. You don’t know that he would do anything you told him, that he didn’t give a fuck about Makima. It had always been you, at the forefront of both his blissful dreams and worst nightmares.

“I like your resilience,” you say quietly.

“Resilience?”

You nod slowly. “You’re the strongest person I know, Aki.”

He hates how much dopamine fills his brain when you say this. The smallest praises from you would have him hung up, lately. Even a smile was motivating, though he’d rather die than admit that to anyone. He was never one to pine or yearn, keeping to himself since he was young. No girl could pry anything out of him that wasn’t surface-level until you.

He hated it. It felt like a weakness.

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.”

“If I’m actually that strong, I probably would’ve broken down your walls by now.”

It could be a teasing statement, but he tucks his expression away into the fabric of his jacket, looking away from you. You’re so close to him, close enough to touch, but he still holds himself back.

“You should save your efforts,” you mumble.

Aki looks at you with narrowed eyes and tries to scan your face for anything telling, but you’re as stoic as him. He’d always found it frustrating, how he could never get anything out of you. He didn’t know how to be selfish. He was apprehensive about provoking you despite how much he wanted to.

“Why?”

You finally look him in the eye. Your features are painted with stubborn contempt as you glare at him.

“Because I’m not worth it.”

Your words strike him through the heart. You weren’t one to be particularly insecure – he’d known this since he met you. But your words now are trying to downplay how much he feels for you, and he won’t have it.

Aki moves close enough to you to smell your breath.

“You don’t get to decide whether or not I waste my time on you,” he protests.

You stare at him. You’re surprised he wants to know you at all. You’ve barely processed the meaning behind his words, the possibility of him wanting you beyond mission support and devil-hunting guidance. Both of you had walls up and that was fine. You never had any intention of breaking any of his, regardless of how often he showed up in your dreams. No matter how often you’d find yourself glancing at him, drinking up his features until you had snapped yourself out of it.

“You can’t want things as a devil hunter,” you say blankly, staring at the dark sky. “There’s no use. Desire is the root of all suffering and shit, right? Like in Buddhism?”

Aki feels his face warm up, his frown deepening as you say this without even looking at him.

“I’ll suffer for you if I want to,” he says firmly.

“Always a masochist,” you whisper, sighing. You smile weakly at him.

“Maybe I am a masochist.”

“I know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be a devil hunter, huh?”

“Why are you a devil hunter?” he raises a brow.

“Because it’s better than killing myself. If I die because of this job, at least I died being useful, you know?”

He swallows thickly at the thought of your death. He’d imagined it a thousand times since he met you and realized how sardonic you were, how little you cared about your own life. You were a mirror of him.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he says, his tone cold.

“It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you die.”

You stare at him, the expression on your face unreadable. Your eyes look dim.

“Thanks,” you mutter. You slide the glass door open and go back inside. Aki feels his lungs ache.

Eventually, he follows you in and sees you on the couch, staring blankly at the television with a bottle of whiskey in your hand. He rolls his eyes. You were just as bad as Kishibe these days.

He sits down next to you without a word, stealing the bottle to take a gulp, flinching. You watch with amusement. He grimaces at you.

“What?” he asks, irritated.

“You can do better than that.”

He wants to wipe the smirk off his face. Maybe with his mouth. He blinks at you a little too fast, then distracts himself with another gulp. A longer one that makes his throat burn, his head dizzy. You laugh.

“I fucking hate you,” he grumbles.

“I didn’t force you to do it,” you scoff.

No, you didn’t. But it was always easy for Aki to do things for you. He often wanted to, didn’t ask any questions. You always wondered why.

“Would you roll around like a dog if I asked you to?” you grin.

“Fuck off.”

You lay down, perching your legs over his lap. He sets his hands on your thigh like it’s second nature to him. You scan his features. His midnight eyes glisten with the blue of the television reflecting in his irises, his mouth downturned into a default pout.

“You should keep your hair down more often.��

He looks at you with surprise, like he’d forgotten you were there.

“Pretty boy,” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.” He tries to keep his expression level. His face is hot from the whiskey, not you, he tells himself.

You shift your position and your foot grazes his crotch. It makes his breath hitch, the creature of want inside him gnawing at his heart. He thinks maybe you’re teasing him, so he takes your foot and rubs it. You raise a brow.

You’re sitting up now, grunting as you do. He pretends that you aren’t staring at him.

“Does it still hurt?” he murmurs.

“Nah. I’m good.”

There’s contempt on his face when he looks at you, his eyes tracing your collarbone just for a second before gazing at the blood on your shirt. Speckled shapes turning from red to brown.

“Let me see.”

“Aki. I’m fine.”

“Let me see,” he mumbles.

You sigh, unbuttoning your shirt until you’re only in a sports bra. He frowns at your wound, how the gauze is dark and nearly falling off.

“Why didn’t you tell me it needed to be changed?”

“It’s fine—”

“No,” he scolds. “Stay still.”

He pins you down by your hips. Somehow, he’s in between your legs, his face frowning in concentration as he looks at your skin. He gets up to grab the first aid kit.

You take another sip of whiskey.

It numbs the pain when he fixes you up again. His fingers are delicate when they handle you — you can’t help but stare at the way they move when he blots your cut. A small press to the center and you feel it sting, making you hiss. He grips you by the waist to disarm you.

Stay still.

“There,” he breathes, kneeling on the floor in front of you. “It’s more secure now.”

He looks at your stomach, watching the rise and fall of your skin as you breathe. You reach out and pat his head like he’s a pet. Aki was a cute drunk. Still stoic, but malleable in your hands. There are moments during group outings when he opens up a little, places his head on your shoulder. Looks at you for a bit longer than he normally allows himself to.

He presses his cheek to your thigh and sighs as you skim the nape of his neck with your fingers. You stroke his jaw. It’s the closest he’s ever been to you.

Your thumb hooks on his mouth briefly and you feel his tongue on the pad of your fingertip. He looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. Glazed over in the dimness, dripped in syrup.

“You’re barely awake,” you breathe. “I should go.”

“No.” He grips your wrist when you pull your hand away, saliva from his mouth creating the string of fate. The sight made your heart sing. Disgusting.

“Why?” you whisper.

He’s quiet. He could bite the bullet, let the heat of it soar straight through his chest so you can see all the gory bits of desire in him. The whiskey only exacerbated the feeling. He was usually good at keeping it down, despite clinging to you like an extra limb. You probably saw right through him.

“Just stay,” he mutters.

“Make me stay, then.”

He hides his face in your lap again. He feels like such a boy. When you run your fingers through his hair again, he pulls away and grabs both of your wrists, pulling you toward him until you fall onto his lap, his body on the floor. He grips your hips and stares at you from below.

“What are you doing? You wanna wrestle?” you joke half-heartedly.

“No,” he slurs quietly. “You’re hurt.”

Aki sits up and leans on the back of his elbows. He looks at you like he’s eager prey, offering himself on a platter, but he won’t say it. It’s killing you.

“C’mon,” you grin. “I can take it.”

“Stop.”

You pin him to the ground. You’re playing. It’s just that and nothing else, isn’t it?

“Aki,” you say. Your face is so close to his. Your breath smells like tobacco and cinnamon, your neck like petrichor.

“I’m not letting you provoke me,” he groans.

You roll your eyes. “Stop trying to take care of me.”

“But I want to,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.

“Then I’ll take care of you. I’m your senpai, remember?”

His face is hot again, sweat sticking to his shoulder blades. Fuck, he needed to fix the fan since Power and Denji had broken it while wrestling. The memory reminds him of the position he’s in right now and a flush creeps up his neck.

“I–”

Your mouth interrupts him. It’s an experimental peck. Impulsive. It’s short, but Aki groans into it and touches his tongue with yours. You pull away with wide eyes.

There’s hunger in his gaze, something like desperation. You could work with this. You knew that you had Aki wrapped around your finger since he started at Public Safety, but you didn’t know he would be like this.

He breathes deeply, dark lashes blinking at you from the mess of his bangs. His dick was infallibly hard since you’d straddled him. It was aching now underneath your cunt — there was no hiding it.

He narrows his eyes, trying to disguise how much he wants you.

“Thought you said desire is the root of all suffering.”

“I guess we’re both masochists, then,” you whisper.

He kisses you with more force this time, buries his mouth into your neck to exhale the scent of his shampoo in your hair. Drunk on you. He sucks a hickey into your flesh like it’s payback.

He groans when he feels your hands underneath his shirt, rubbing against the pale skin of his abdomen until he takes the liberty to pull the fabric off himself. Aki has always been pretty – like a girl, like you’d told him before. He was also remarkably boyish. The shy type. He’d seem to grow muscles over the past year, his lean figure always hidden by the uniform.

“Stop staring at me like that,” he huffs.

“Get uglier, then,” you roll your eyes, pulling at the zipper of his jeans.

He lets you handle him like a doll.

“Thought you’d be rougher,” you whisper.

“You’ve… thought about this before?” he asks.

You blink at him, then look away.

“Once or twice.”

“I’m not gonna be rough with you,” he says, his voice lower than before. “Not when you got stabbed earlier today.”

“Told you I’m a masochist,” you chuckle dryly. You strip off your slacks, showing off your less-than-sexy cotton underwear. He grazes your core, the wet patch growing larger with your slick.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, mesmerized. He licks his lips, wanting to taste you, lust transparent on his face. It humiliated you, for some reason — you were always used to it rough and fast, your vision blurred while you took cock that you didn’t give a shit about. This was different. This was real.

You put your fingers in his mouth again, pinning him down. He moans when you spit on the head of his cock, palming him gently. Taming him.

You slide your panties off of your legs and do the same with his briefs. When you hover over him, your throat feels tight. He keeps looking at you like you created him. Like you were the world itself.

His tip catches on the slick of your cunt, circling your entrance. Your blood boils, every ventricle in your body sparking to life. You feel him buck his hips, desperate and rutting.

“Use me,” he groans, muffled from your fingers on his tongue.

You sink down on him and his eyes roll back. You remove your fingers from his mouth to toy with your clit, whimpering at the sensation of him filling you up. He was bigger than you expected.

Aki shudders from sensitivity. Alcohol usually numbs his senses, but he can feel all of you, how hot and tight you are. It’s driving him mad. He hiccups through moans, his throat raw.

Your cunt pulses as you grind on him, trembling above him as you try to keep your hips from stuttering too much. Already, you were about to fall apart.

“Fuck,” Aki mutters.

Your hand grazes his face and jaw, and he leans into your palm to kiss it earnestly. Your face burns as you tangle your fingers in his raven hair. When he rises to kiss you, you pull his strands while your other hand holds him back by his shoulder. He groans and thrusts upward into you, holding your hips so that your thighs are flush against his.

Your pulse throbs against the cave of your chest. Aki is desperate to kiss you, to get his tongue in your mouth, so he uses your own trick on you – pulls you in with force and grabs a fistful of your hair. You moan into his mouth, tapering off into a whimper, and you feel him let out a breathy laugh in between kisses.

Aki lets himself be a little loud — no one else was home, and fucking you was cathartic. He squeezes the fat of your thigh, his lunacy suppressed into his tight fists. Entranced by the sight of your cunt swallowing up his dick.

You whimper as your knees start to get rug burn, the skin as raw as the love bites on your neck. Your stomach stirs, ecstasy boiling in the pit. You could pretend it was love from the way he gripped you.

“You’re fucking tight,” he grunts.

“Do you like it?” you rasp. You almost sound like you’re begging.

He nods and holds your face, his other hand making an imprint on your waist. Aki was so much taller than you — his size didn’t register until now, the way he was forcing your chin up to look up into his eyes.

He can barely speak, only letting out choked moans and heavy breaths. You look so vulnerable despite being on top of him. He could picture it now, your thighs shaking with arms outstretched to him in morning light. Bare-faced and illuminated, not a bruise on your body. Happy in another life.

“Fuck, Aki,” you moan.

“Again,” he breathes.

“What?”

“Say my name again. Like that.” Like you love me.

“A-Aki,” you whine, gasping for air. “Close.”

A rush of blood to the head. He almost wants to tell you he loves you, force you to say it back to him in between swapping spit. Even if it was just pretend.

You writhe as you cum. Heat-struck by the coil breaking in your stomach. It was like he was melting your insides. He feels your cunt twitch and spills into you with a groan, nose buried in your hair.

He winces as he pulls out of you, his cum getting the carpet wet. He’ll have to clean it up later. He breathes heavily and looks anywhere but your face.

“Lie down with me,” you whisper.

So he does, face to face with you, his arm loose over your waist. He wants to kiss you, but he assumes you’ve had your fill. He wonders if you’ll ever toy with him like that again. He hates himself for how badly he wants it.

But then you look at him, your eyes searching his for meaning. Unspoken words.

“You okay, baby?”

He’s shocked at the nickname, blushing like he didn’t just fuck you to the moon and back.

He nods, blinking rapidly when you stroke his jaw gently. Branding him with tenderness. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with you. He didn’t want to be a sycophant, but he still felt attached to you, and it would only get worse from here. Stuck on his heart like chewed gum.

“Angel boy,” you sigh, hazed. You’re still a little drunk. “Pretty.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog.”

“What are you, then?”

He says nothing. You smile. The warmth in his chest is immeasurable. It aches like a wound that never heals. He supposes that’s what you are for him. But what is he?

“Yours.”

#aki hayakawa smut #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man fanfiction #csm smut #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x you #csm x reader

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seramilla · 1 day

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carmilla introducing vaggie to her girls. misscarriage

Carmilla: girls, theres someone i want you to meet

Clara: moma, we already know vaggie

Carmilla: si, but im introducing her as your sister

clara passed money over to odette: told you itd take less than a year for her to adopt her

carmilla: not quite adoption, remember when we died i was pregnant?

Odette and Clara return to the compound later that evening, filthy and covered in grime from a full day of excavating angelic weapons. They can't believe the sheer number left behind this time. Thanks to Charlie and the others at the hotel, there were more angelic bodies than Sinners; carrying not only weapons, but covered in armor. The sisters are tired but excited to get back to work the next day, to dig into the secrets their discoveries may uncover, and see what they can create from them.

After cleaning up, they notice the building is surprisingly quiet. Carmilla said she had work to do, and would wait up for them. The dark expanse of the warehouse is eerie, and their footsteps echo as they make their way to Carmilla's makeshift apartment on the second floor. They can see from the lights in the doorway that she's still awake; or at least still there, so they can tell her what they'd found. Upon opening the door, however, the two quickly realize their mother isn't alone. It's that girl...Charlie's partner. Vaggie. Sitting at their mother's side, Carmilla's hand on her knee, talking like they've known each other for years.

Carmilla is...smiling. And so is Vaggie. Odette and Clara stop in the doorway, staring at the two, puzzled, until they are noticed. Carmilla and Vaggie immediately stop talking when they see their visitors; Vaggie even shifts away a little, embarrassed. Carmilla stands abruptly, rubbing the back of her head with her claws awkwardly, but ultimately gesturing toward her daughters to come in.

"Girls," Carmilla says, a little catch in her voice. "Welcome back. You've met Vaggie, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Clara says, as she and Odette enter and shut the door behind them. "We met when we delivered that custom order to the snake man at the hotel. How's the weapon working, by the way?"

"Umm..." Vaggie flinches a little when Clara brings up Sir Pentious. She has such a look of profound sadness on her face at the mention of him, like she wants to cry. There's such a drastic change in the angel's demeanor, Odette awkwardly clears her throat and tries to change the subject.

"You're that angel that's dating Charlie, right? How are you feeling? Are you recovering okay? You had such a nasty scrape with the Exterminators."

"Oh! Yes," Vaggie says, seemingly surprised Odette would ask how she’s doing. “I’m doing a lot better, thank you. Charlie’s been taking care of me. And, uh...Carm--your mom, too.”

Vaggie’s voice is so much smaller and softer than either Odette or Clara remember. She’d been so full of energy and authority at the hotel; directing all the residents and keeping them out of trouble. It’s surprising this is the same woman in front of them now, acting all meek and mild in front of their mother. Hadn't she challenged her just several days prior? What happened since then?

"You've sure been spending a lot of time with Mama lately," Clara says, putting voice to the obvious. It's not so much an accusation, as an observation. There's no suspicion or malice in Clara's voice, just a lilt of a...question? Odette's thinking the same thing, if she's honest. Carmilla's been spending a lot of time with the angel. She doesn't mind, but...she also can't escape the feeling that something else is going on. Something she's not being told.

"Did you adopt her or something, Mom?" Odette asks, chuckling, trying to lower the tension building in the room. "She's strong. We could always use an extra hand around here."

The silence that permeates the space at her comment shocks Odette to her very core. Suddenly, both Vaggie's and her mother's eyes spike open, like Odette just mentioned someone had died. The change in their demeanor is palpable. Vaggie turns away, as if she's unable to look at the sisters anymore. Carmilla stutters again, trying to find her voice. She's been doing that a lot lately, where Vaggie is concerned. Carmilla can't seem to find the words to explain, and Odette and Clara don't know the right questions to get answers out of her.

"What? What did I say?" Odette looks at her mother, concerned. Carmilla looks like she's about to cry.

"It's not like that, mija," Carmilla says, unconvincingly. Oh shit, Odette notices, she is crying. "Umm, girls...come sit with me for a minute. Please? I need to tell you something."

They do. Vaggie moves out of the way so Odette and Clara can sit on the futon next to their mother. Carmilla reaches for the angel, too, trying to draw her in, but Vaggie just turns away, her back to the rest of them. She looks so small again, like she's curling in on herself. Carmilla looks like she wants to say something, but thinks better of it, and draws her attention back to the other girls.

"Clara. Odette. I'm going to say something, and I need you to...to keep an open mind. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Mom," Odette says, getting concerned at this line of questioning. "What's wrong? You know you can tell us anything, right?"

"Yeah! Whatever it is, we can take it. We're worried about you." Clara chimes in. As if her mother would ever doubt their resolve. Carmilla should know them better than that by now.

Carmilla pauses, for an unusually long time. Odette sees her trying to find the right words to say. Carmilla's hand then lowers, and she's...she's rubbing her midsection, over her pubic bone. Over her belly, like when she was...

Carmilla sighs, choking up again, but decides to just go for it anyway.

"All those years ago, when...when we died? Do you remember that I was...that I was with, aahhh...what state I was in?"

"You were pregnant, Mom," Odette says, squeezing her mother's hand, choking up at the memory. Carmilla had just found out, not even a few weeks prior. They hadn't even had time to celebrate. Her baby shower had been months away, and then their lives had been taken from them, snatched away like a thief in the night. "Of course we remember. You can say it. How could we forget?"

"Do you remember when we finally woke up, and how long it took for me to remember how we were killed? Clara, do you remember what you asked me?"

"I asked you what happened to the baby, and you said you didn't know. That it was just gone... Wait, Mama, hey! Are you okay? What's the matter?"

Carmilla catches them both off guard. She is actually sobbing now, out of nowhere. Face in her claws, digging them into into her forehead, and leaving red welts on the skin there. Her body shakes, wracked with grief, as if she's finally letting it all out, like she's been holding it together. For them. She probably has.

"I..." Carmilla starts, tears streaming between her fingers. "I can't! I'm sorry--I can't!"

Carmilla starts breathing rapidly, in-between sobs, like she's hyperventilating. Odette can't remember the last time she's seen her mother this way. Not since...

She and Clara are on their feet in an instant, about to wrap their mother up in their arms, and console her. Hug her, hold her, or...something. Anything, to get her to calm down and tell them what's going on.

They would have, anyway, except suddenly, Vaggie is there, already doing it for them.

"Carmilla, hey!" Vaggie says, squeezing Carmilla's shoulders from behind, much more level-headed and put together than the moment prior. She almost looks like she's back to her normal self. Brave...or at least she's trying to be. "Carmilla! Carmilla, stop! It's okay. You don't have to do this."

"I do!" Carmilla shouts, turning her head to look at Vaggie. The angel is surprised -- the matriarch's eyes are glowing. But around the edges, they've softened, and there's so much blue mixed in with the red.

Odette notices, too. Carmilla's eyes haven't been that way since...well, since they were alive. Like...like the human part of her is trying to fight to the surface. Resurrected by memories; ones she's being forced to recall, that she might rather have forgotten, to spare herself the pain.

"I have to tell them, Vaggie. They need to understand."

"Understand what, Mom?" Odette asks. She knows she shouldn't keep asking this. It's stupid. It's obviously hurting her mother. Odette's probably pushing a line here, that shouldn't be crossed, and she knows it. But her curiosity is killing her, all over again, and she just can't help herself. She needs to know what's wrong, so she and Clara can fix it.

Vaggie surprises her again.

"Let me do it, then," Vaggie says, forcefully, insisting, trying to get Carmilla to see reason. "You've been so strong for me. You've helped me so much. Let me do this for you."

"Vaggie, you don't have to...please, just give me a moment. I can--"

"No. This is hurting you. I want to help." Then, without hesitation, the angel looks at Odette and Clara, straight in the eye. Odette sees pain there, too; so much pain, and loss, but Vaggie pushes past it, and tells them, point-black, "It's me! Carmilla lost her baby, and it was me! All the Exorcists! We're lost children! We all died before we were born! They did tests on your blood when I was in the hospital, and you're all a match! Carmilla is my mother. You're my sisters! I know this may be hard to believe, and I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but you have to--!"

Vaggie doesn't get a chance to finish her tirade. Suddenly, a body collides into her front, wrapping its arms around her snuggly, in an almost too-tight bear hug. The angel stumbles on her feet, and may have toppled onto the floor, if the other person hadn't caught her.

That's when Vaggie notices the other person who has her is Clara, her arms grasped around her middle, with her face buried in the fallen angel's neck.

"I knew it!" Clara proclaims into Vaggie's skin, letting go of the smaller woman just enough to look back at Odette, sitting on the futon with their mother in a shocked stupor. Carmilla is looking at them, too. "I fucking told you, Odette! I fucking told you!"

Odette stands, and then immediately collapses to her knees. Despite her addled brain, despite her racing mind, and despite the absolute lack of belief she's experiencing in that moment, she still has enough of her wits about her to say, "Shit...sis, you were right."

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #fan theories #vaggie carmilla related au

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misc-obeyme · 3 days

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for the drabble thing kinda 👉👈 (mostly be rambling per usual but could be an idea). I've been listening to music non stop at work and favorite record by fall out boy came on today

and there's a lyric that goes "and I confessed, confessed to you riding shotgun, underneath purple skies" and it screams mammon and mc to me. ALSO the rest of the song makes it sound like past tense/lost love/one that got away...angst potential too. Like reminiscing? Mc moved on but he never did.

I just like thinking about different ways he may confess, and if he'd just blurt it out without thinking? Or maybe he's hyped himself up, he's driving mc up to a hilltop to stargaze, he's got it all planned - and something mc does just makes him blurt it out

if it was something silly like turning on the A/C before he could finish asking them to, because MC just knows him that well, that would be hilarious

Mammon: hey uh, can you-

mc, already turning the dial: i got you

Mammon: i am in love with you.

- ✨ anon

also, partially related but Flu Game by the same band reminds me so much of nightbringer!mc and I could go on forever about it

Yes this feels very Mammon to me... blurting it out before he means to lol! I do like the angst of MC moving on, but he never did, too! That's some good potential right there.

BUT I did a drabble based on the rest of the idea, that he's taking MC to a hilltop to confess but doesn't quite make it lol.

Mammon knows he has to tell you. It's been stewing inside him for a while, brought to his attention every time you meet his eyes, every time you say his name, every time you touch him or hug him or do something before he even asks. He's nervous to say it, but he won't risk losing you because he was too afraid.

He has it all planned out. What better way than to take you for a drive? Up onto the highest hilltop in the Devildom. Thinking about it makes his pulse race. He's on high alert all day, not able to focus on anything except the moment when those words pass his lips.

Mammon rehearses what he'll say. He thought about getting poetic, but in the end he decides it's better to just be straightforward. To be honest, to be true, to tell you exactly what he needs you to know, so there is no possibility of miscommunication. He chants it in his head all day. I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you.

You settle into the passenger seat of his Demonio like you belong there, riding shotgun beside him. He wants to say it right then, before he's even started the car.

I'm in love with you.

Mammon holds it in as you click in your seat belt and smile at him before turning on the music. It's a playlist you made together of all the songs you both love most. As you start singing along to the chorus, he wants to say it again.

I'm in love with you.

Mammon's eyes are on the road, but you are all encompassing. Despite this, he doesn't let his attention wander from the task of driving. He cares too much about you to be reckless.

He hasn't said much because he doesn't trust himself to speak. The road gets tricky as he starts up the winding cliff side to get to the highest hilltop. He can't look away from it, but he's sweating. He wipes quickly at his forehead.

"Hey, MC, can ya-"

"I got you," you say, already turning the dial.

His heart skips. And the words he's been repeating in his mind all day come bursting out. "I'm in love with you."

For a moment, the only sound is a soft song that has begun to play. Mammon's mind is buzzing, full of static at the shock of what he's just done, what he's said. He didn't even make it up to the hilltop.

"Er- I mean-" he starts to say, but it's too late.

He sees you reaching toward him in his periphery. He takes your outstretched hand without even thinking about it.

"I love you, too," you say, simply.

Mammon holds your hand like it's the only thing keeping him alive as he finally makes it to his destination. He stops the car and turns to you, taking in the way your eyes are shining brighter than all the stars and city lights streaming in through the windshield. He leans over to kiss you and the current between you is like lightning, brighter and more intense than any other light could hope to be. Wild, unpredictable, full of passion - just like him.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#I always forget how much I like writing for him until I do it again #he's so silly #it's adorable #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #om mammon #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #om mammon x mc #obey me x reader #x reader #request #✨ anon #misc writes

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auspicioustidings · 3 days

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Ae Fond Kiss - Part 4

A Prayer in the Prospect of Death

Summary: The years pass and you find out how Simon feels about you before a familiar face arrives. Words: 2.8k

Parts: 1 2 3 4

“Tell me luv.”

Simon had his fingers tucked under your chin to tilt your head up so you could no longer easily hide. Urgh he was so bloody perceptive.

“It’s silly.”

“You’re always silly, now tell me.”

You fought the urge to blow a raspberry at him. He was truly the most stubbornly protective human you had ever met and he never just let things go if you said it was fine. He always knew when something was bothering you despite your attempts to hide it.

“What am I supposed to do when Joey starts nursery?”

You sighed and dropped any attempt to hide how miserable the thought made you. When you and Johnny had gotten married you had decided that you’d be a stay at home mum. You didn’t have a career you were attached to and Johnny made enough to support the household. Honestly you had come to enjoy it in the last year. You decorated your home for every holiday, experimented in the kitchen until you were actually a very good home cook and baker, always felt safe and content with how well you knew your own space and how cosy and clean you kept it.

It was never how you imagined yourself if you were honest, a homemaker. The idea of you actually sort of enjoying cleaning would have made you feel somewhat ill 5 years ago. But now you were in your own home with a toddler you loved to death and, though you often were reluctant to admit it out loud, a man you loved to death. You had been front and centre for all of Joey’s firsts and you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Simon missed his first steps. Johnny had been fine doing video calls while he was on base during off hours, but you didn’t even have the number of Simon’s work phone. It used to frustrate you that it felt like he didn’t even exist the moment he left for work, but he had spoken about his family on your first Christmas together and it made you understand. He would never carry anything on him as the Ghost that could link back to you, even in the relative safety of the base during downtime.

Now Joey would be out of the house for most of the day. You could have waited, not sent him to nursery and just kept him home until school, but you knew it would be for your sake rather than his. He loved being around other kids and some of the friends he had made from you taking him to every toddler group in the area in an attempt to be a good mother would be starting nursery as well.

Could you just do nothing all day? Between Johnny’s insurance and death in service benefits and Simon insisting on funnelling money in, you could certainly afford it now, but it felt so wrong when Johnny was dead and Simon was doing the exact job that had killed him.

“What do you mean? You do the same as you do right now if you’re still happy doing it but without him.”

“Lounge around and do nothing while you are out risking your life you mean.”

Simon considered, always careful to think the situation through rather than reply impulsively. He was annoyed with himself for not seeing sooner that you were undervaluing yourself, only considering taking care of Joey which was a full time job in itself as contributing. While it had been a source of bitter guilt in the beginning, he had started to forget how much younger you were than him. He really should have seen it, no woman in her early 20s saw her full worth.

“Princess, you decorated this whole house while I was deployed and you’re the one that fixes things or organises for them to be fixed when they break. You cook almost all our meals from scratch and then make extra to donate to the community kitchen. The garden is immaculate because you follow the planting plan you made yourself and are out there doing maintenance every day. You do not now nor have you ever lounged about doing nothing, even if I would like it if you did.”

He already felt bad enough about it. When he was home he threw himself in, tried to take as much off of you as possible even when he was nowhere near as fast or good at things. If anything he was contributing nowhere near enough money to cover all the full time jobs you were gracefully juggling (only because it had already been a fight to accept any money at all, he gave you what you accepted and then put almost the rest of his pay into an account for Joey).

“Shut up!” you whined, battering fists against his chest as your face flamed.

You had lived together now for just around 3 years. You had been intimately involved for 2. It still absolutely floored you when he was nice to you and made butterflies erupt in your stomach. It was so ridiculous to feel like some wide eyed teen with a crush when it came to this idiot. Unfortunately his favourite hobby was fucking with you when you were taken off guard like this.

“Aww baby girl, you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me and Joe don’t you? We’d fall apart without you beautiful” he said in a smooth rumble, peppering kisses across your cheeks and down your neck.

It wasn’t fair that he could just tease you with a version of him that adored you. A version that you enjoyed even if you didn’t really think it was real. Sure there had been a maybe ‘I love you’ years ago after all that sexual tension broke and he seemed to be happy enough, but you could only imagine that if he ever knew how you felt about him he would run. The last 3 years you had fought at every turn to protect your heart, but you had stopped denying at least to yourself that it was pathetically his now.

“Don’t do that.”

“You don’t want praise and kisses?”

He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a small smile. You loved praised and kisses, he knew that because in the bedroom he could use that to turn you into a pile of obedient princess who did whatever he said if it would earn you his adulation. But it was just sex wasn’t it?

“I don’t want you to pretend.”

He was confused by that and you wanted to sink into the floor to avoid this conversation. You had been avoiding it for a while now.

“I… fuck. Simon, I don’t- it’s not just sex to me” you choked out, not sure how to put it into words without straight out admitting that you were hopelessly in love with him and wanted him in you and J’s lives permanently.

“Christ, you pretty little idiot” he growled, grabbing your face roughly in his hands. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not Johnny, I don’t do big romantic gestures. I’m not the kind of man to tell you all the time how I feel. I’m the kind of man who is a selfish bastard because I don’t give a fuck if you deserve someone who does. You are mine. You have been for years. Do you understand me?”

You could only blink wide-eyed as your brain tried to catch up with the whole world restarting itself after the shock.

“Do you understand me?” he snapped.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl… wanna get married?”

You stuttered out an outraged shout, feeling the tears that had been building drying up at the audacity of this man.

“Johnny took me to the cabin. He made me a replica of the first dinner we had together and set the table outside during the sunset. He organised for fireworks!”

“Told you I don’t do romantic gestures.”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine, let’s get married Casper. You’re the fucking worst.”

“Don’t I know it princess. I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Then I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Yes you bloody well are!”

“Wanna bet?!”

He did not wear a tie, but Joey did. Your dress was beautiful. Gaz officiated your wedding for the second time. Price said there was an emergency so he couldn’t make it - you weren’t really sure you believed him.

As you cleared up after the whirlwind that was breakfast in a house with a 9 year old late for school, you sighed and stuck on a heat patch. You were starting to wonder if being off birth control was maybe a little pointless because in the past 18 months it had only reminded you how much you hated periods after years of them being gone as a useful side effect.

It had been something you were speaking about since you got married. You had always wanted more kids. Simon had never even expected he’d have one. You were terrified of a repeat of your first pregnancy, he was terrified that his genes were poisonous. You had enough money with his hefty pay and your small business (you had started it up soon after Joey had started nursery and you got a lot of orders for events, birthdays and weddings for sets of biscuits. You imagined wherever Johnny was he was howling with laughter that you had turned into a home baker after all the kitchen disasters he had seen).

In the end it had been Joseph who made the decision. One shrugged mention of how he thought it’d be nice to have a little sibling and that was that. There was not one thing in the whole wide world you and Simon would not give him if it was in your power. Although you were starting to think it wasn’t in your power at all.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have an active sex life and in honesty it had only gotten more active from the breeding kink Simon had uncovered as soon as it was a possibility. But it just hadn’t happened.

You wondered if it was better that it hadn’t, at least until Joey was 10. That was when you had agreed you would tell him everything. On advice of a psychologist you had told him that Simon wasn’t his biological father very early on, as early as he could understand the concept, although stressed he was still his dad. The only thing you mentioned about his biological father was that he had died even though that was very much against the psychologists advice, she had said to tell him everything about Johnny.

But in 4 months he would turn 10 and he knew that you would answer his questions then. It was shitty of the two of you really, to hide Johnny until now. Joey’s grandmother still saw him, but she never talked about her son or who he was. It was cowardice. Simon had been speaking with a therapist for years about how to let go of the idea that Johnny died because he couldn’t save him. You felt ill at the idea of your son knowing you had married his dead father’s best friend. Both of you were so scared of Johnny’s ghost that you kept him from his son for nearly a decade.

Well sort of. Joey knew who Johnny was, just not that he was his father. There were photos of him in the house. Whenever Gaz, Price and their partner (that had been a whole drama, but you were happy the three of them finally worked it out) were around, sometimes they would reminisce about him. Well Gaz and Simon did, Price would just look pained and excuse himself to get a drink.

You could only hope that Joey wouldn’t hate you, but then he was such a great kid. A little wild, but incredibly kind and empathetic beyond his years. He had Johnny’s eyes. You thought that he’d understand when you explained it all. Maybe he’d yell at you for thinking he would blame you for falling in love with his dad, but he’d understand.

You focused on cleaning up and getting the kitchen back clean and cosy how you liked it, deciding not to borrow worries from the future.

–

Price had told him to settle his arse down in the base and let him travel down and talk to him before he went anywhere. Johnny ignored him. He had just saved the fucking world, there was not one thing that was going to keep him from his wife and child one second longer.

He had debriefed already, been medically cleared to leave. He knew the paperwork was going to be horrendous given that he was legally dead, but frankly he’d leave it for the intelligence agencies to deal with given how much of a big bloody favour he had just done them. He got your address off of them given that Price hadn’t given it to him, just telling him to wait until he got there. Fuck that.

It didn’t take too long to get himself there. It was oddly comforting hearing all the English accents after a decade of hearing almost entirely Russian even if he’d be moving your pretty arse back North of the border as soon as he could. Not a chance was his family living in Carlisle. He wondered why you would move that far from the Highlands where his family was. You had always been no contact with your own family, maybe you had reconciled with them and moved to be closer?

He would find out. Whatever it was he’d support you. God he loved you, he had missed you so fucking much. He had imagined the reunion for years, thought of your smile and your laugh when he needed to remind himself what he was fighting for, thought of your soft skin and tight pussy when he needed to relieve some tension with his right hand. Whenever he sent up a prayer in the prospect of death, it was for you that he prayed he would survive.

He thought of how he’d hold you for days when he got back. He knew you would have raised a wonderful son and he could not wait to meet the person he had become. He’d hold him as well, spend days cuddled up and watching movies with his family.

And then he’d take you to the cabin and lose himself in your body. Fuck it was strange to think he’d have to consider it wasn’t just you two anymore. He didn’t want to lose any time with his son, but he needed alone time with you as well. He’d work it out.

The house was nice, sort of quaint with the pretty flowers both real and painted on the door. It hurt knowing if he hadn’t been away you’d have something bigger. You would have had to for a growing family.

He wished he had stopped and gotten a change of clothes and a haircut. He was in military issued sweats and a hoodie and his hair had grown out to curl around his ears. He really should have shaved as well, a task he hadn’t had time for in the chaos of the last few months. But fuck it, he was here and he couldn’t wait.

It was almost like an out of body experience knocking on the door, knowing he was seconds away from you. He should have realised that there was another person around who could answer the door, but he hadn’t been thinking. The Joseph he knew was a tiny baby, not a bright eyed kid with a toothy grin in a football strip (a bloody Man U strip at that, Johnny just knew his uncle Simon would have had a hand in that and it made him grin knowing his best friend was still in his son’s life).

“Ye got big!” he belted, excited beyond proper introductions at seeing his son.

The kid furrowed his brows for a moment before he brightened with recognition. Johnny assumed now was about the time for crying and yelling and hugging. He was unprepared for the alternative.

“I know you! You’re dad’s Sergeant! I thought you died.”

His heart lurched, putting the dots together well before his brain could.

“Joe hurry it up! We’ll miss kick-off!”

Johnny knew that voice. It was not yours.

“I’m ready!”

“You better be! Right, who’s at the door then?”

The voice got closer and even though he wanted to run Johnny was rooted to the spot. It felt like the next 10 seconds as the footsteps and voice came closer was hours. The door swung wider open as a hand pulled on it from behind and then he was looking into the eyes of Simon Riley. The silence was deafening until Johnny broke it.

“What the fuck did you do Si!”

#mhairiwrites #cod #soap x reader #ghost x reader

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captainhunnicutt · 3 days

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I was watching Commander Pierce, today and had some thoughts. I feel like, this is one of those episodes where the viewer is supposed to think Hawkeye is being a jerk with his "leadership style," and how he overdid it etc. etc. but the more I think about it... the more I feel bad for him. I don't think he was actually at fault here as much as initially thought.

Hawkeye knows who he is. He knows what his faults are and doesn't try to pretend they aren't there. He even says he isn't fit to lead. His insignia is a cringing chicken. He doesn't know how to give orders. He legitimately gives every reason putting him in charge is a bad idea - and not one person takes him seriously. I feel like sometimes, throughout the show, this theme reappears. People don't listen or take Hawkeye seriously because he says things in such a way that makes it sound like he's cracking a joke - but behind every joke there is some semblance of truth. And it feels like an argument could be made that that particular consideration isn't often awarded to Hawkeye. It's the exact opposite of BJ - who delivers a lot of very telling statements calmly and collected and no one pays any attention. Like when BJ says in Our Finest Hour that the war has made him angry, and we all act surprise (the only person who doesnt is Hawkeye) when he lashes out in BJ Papa San. It's the same idea. They aren't taken seriously, and that feels like the most dehumanizing thing, which in turn feels like commentary on soldiers/draftees in general. They are just chess pieces in one large game that never seems to end.

But anyway, Hawkeye doesn't think he can lead, but he really is a natural leader. He leads by example and by not following protocol. By thumbing his nose at rules and regulations - and that is actually working until the influx of wounded and the lack of physical hands available to help. So he defaults to the only option readily available to him. The "army way". There are rules and regulations and standard operation procedures, that in theory, are supposed to help lead. They are supposed to be ways to get themselves to the other side of a situation. So Hawkeye tries to abide by them, use them to his advantage, but with people who are conditioned - by Hawkeye himself and commanding officers continuously allowing it to happen - to NOT play by the book. So what do they do? They lash out at Hawkeye. They make him out to be the worst leader and doing a terrible job - which isn't entirely fair to him.

Hawkeye didn't have the confidence in his own natural abilities to lead and to get them through everything, and fell victim to thinking the "army way" was designed to actually help.

And while I think BJ was honest upon his return, and did exactly what "Captain Pierce" would've done, I don't think he was actually mad at Hawkeye or "Commander Pierce." I think it's one of those situations where he wasn't mad, just disappointed. I like to believe (re: it's possible and I'm in no way saying this is absolutely what happened but it's open for interpretation) BJ was the first person (maybe the only person) to recognize that Hawkeye would've done just fine if he had led as himself and not tried to be the exact thing he normally despised.

Thanks for coming to my messy MASH talk.

#commander pierce #analysis #i dumped all this on bard and thought it wasn't really terrible #but i still don't want to tag it in multiple ways in fear it gets ripped to shreds because #as always i'm here for a thirsty time not an intelligent one

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penaltyboxboxbox · 1 day

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i love ur charlos parents au sm!! im not requesting art or anything if u dont feel like drawing (tho youre a phenomenal artist!!), but i was wondering if you wanted to share any more details abt the au? i thinks its so cute haha and would love to know more. also hope ur having a great day!

I LOVE THIS AU TOO i do want to draw more i always have ideas for it.... but i will gladly ramble about my lore ive developed

1. is this an mpreg au even i do not know or care to know. yes these are their biological children who look like them and share their genes but how did we get here ill leave that to you to assume. either way both of them definitely wanted big families and even tho i draw them with 2 kids i think they want at least 4..... charles wants a daughter and carlos says the same but secretly he only wants sons. hes picturing a future football team and also doesn't understand women conceptually

2. i actually think carlos3 was an accident child and charlos get shotgun married over it. its part of the reason why theres a bit of a gap between their first and second child. they had to like reassess and settle stuff after kind of having to get their shit together and make honest men of each other.

3. they get divorced at some point during all this mainly due to SAINZ SENIOR PRESSURE. probably while carlos3 is like highschool age. charles talks so much shit and then proceeds to get emotional like I SHOULDNT TALK ABOUT YOUR FATHER THIS WAY vs carlos like. bro tries to just act like they are normal regular friends now like man thats not how this works....charles always plays cool irl but is annoyed as hell underneath. very good coparents though....always at all the events together. when the kids stay at sainz family evil mansion for the summer they come back to charles so villainous and feral. he has to go supernanny on them...

4. charlos DO get back together after like 10 years of being separated lol. and yeah there were lots of messy nights out and not quite reconciliations throughout that time. very confusing family dynamic but theyre happy at the end

5. carlos3 grows up to be a guy who just kind of piggybacks onto whatever business endeavors his dads are doing. ultimate nepotism hire. hes not bad at what hes doing he just never really found that passion. his passion is like.....posting peaky blinders quotes on instagram. hes kind of a failson but hes also the perpetual baby for charlos so they just...coddled him too much his whole life djhdksndksbs.... younger son herve becomes a FASHION MODEL!!!! hes beautiful gorgeous and also a perfect nepo child so he's ripe for this career....he walks runways in paris

thats all i can think of for now thankssssss ily

#ask #parents au

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psiirockin · 2 days

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do you have any advice for opening commissions? i feel like you have them very professionally set up, and i have pretty bad social anxiety, so it might be helpful to hear tips for communicating with customers and such, or setting up a fair tos!

hi so, maybe i do have some advice!!! <33 thank you so so much for the kindness & seeing me as professional lol i’ve been doing comms for 2-3 years and i must say.. still getting the hang of a lot of things. you go through a lot of trial + error trying to figure out what works best for you, so remember theres no truly right way to go about comms! they should all fit the needs, pace, and benefit of you and your work ethic!

what i did personally is start off at some lower prices just to test the waters and get the ball rolling. i priced rendered characters at i think, $24 per character? possibly lower, i cant quite remember. and then i gradually went up as i started to progress in my art style more + had more people coming in.

with customers, i have a lot of anxiety as well! im autistic, so i never like making a customer feel like i dont truly care abt the commission by accidentally sounding too flat or anything. i tend to RLLY overthink it lol so we make sure we are extra talkative + kind about their comm! giving them compliments on the character, showing genuine excitement so they know theyre in good hands! (we love engaging esp when the customer seems VERY excited or enthusiastic abt the commission!)

a lot of irl turmoil tends to happen in our life which can make a comm delayed sometimes. could be severe mental health problems, just being busy w/ shit in general. its important to just keep your customers up to date, especially if its going to take a realllyyy long time or the customer likes frequent updates.

i used to be able to get shit done in like a night. but, with an actual line up/queue of comm work we progressively started taking longer and longer esp as we transitioned from a teenager starting out and into a busy adult with persistent mental health issues. (plus our art becomes more complex as time goes on, so that has to be taken into account) tbhs, depending on your availability and how much effort goes into your work, and as the demand grows, you need to charge accordingly and just be honest with your clientele.

as for TOS do what makes you comfortable! make your limits known and put your foot down when a request or any topic makes you uncomfortable. dont let your customers get inappropriate with you or try to make you feel bad if they dont wanna pay for what they ask for, etc. i also recommend requesting payment after sketch/half and half when starting out just so you can get some experience under your belt + assure future clients that youre professional n wont scam them! (if you plan on switching to payment upfront in the future)

just remember that u are not a machine, you are a human being making art for someone else. putting love n effort into your craft, time and effort. take your time getting the hang of comm stuff, things dont have to be perfect in your setup at first.

#asks #asks open #commissions

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wolven91 · 3 days

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Drifting - Part 11

“I am not one for politics. They make my scales itch.” Bemoaned Zeet as he walked ahead of Qik and Casper. His mobile platform moved and wandered without input from him as he stood upon it, grimacing at the two larger creatures. They had just left the boardroom where Casper had potentially just signed his body away if this went wrong.

“I would have thought we would have got more usable data from you by informing you and letting you just *work* with us.” The blue geckin continued, musing out aloud. Casper couldn’t help but grin widely, pleased by the geckin’s seemingly honest distaste for the situation.

Zeet was an engineer. A nerd. A geek, through and through. He cared about the machines he designed and made. The plots and schemes of others mattered little to him as long as they didn’t cross his wants and desires to improve on his designs. The geckin made an odd croaking throat noise. Casper spoke up.

“Let them work themselves into an early shed then, me and you are going to make a mech that’ll go down in history.” The young man offered, hoping to caress the geckin’s ego.

Qik grinned as well as he did when he blatantly hit his mark perfectly.

“You think?! Oh! Oh ho ho ho! Just think! First ‘no drift’ pilot in one of *my* machines making headlines. But we need you to succeed. Fame goes both ways, ah?” Zeet pointed out, before adopting a focused look, crossing his arms and touching a finger to his mouth. The two far larger creatures shared a glance as both of them felt themselves disappear to the geckin’s perspective.

“You’ll need survivability…” Zeet mumbled to him. “Heavy is always best for survivability, but it means taking the hits. Your agility shouldn’t be slept on. Light is just as good, if you don’t get hit.” The geckin snapped his head around to Casper.

“You stopped getting hit all the time?” The tiny creature demanded.

“What do you mean ‘all the time’? She got me *once*!” Casper shot back, thrusting a thumb sideways at Qik who remained silent, although her strut became more pronounced as they discussed her ‘perfect’ kill shot.

Zeet merely grinned at Casper and he was reminded that a grin from a geckin was *not* the same as a human grinning. Zeet was admonishing the human, not sharing in a joke.

“Once was enough. If we capitalise on your speed, you will be light, but weak; you will not survive errant hits! Anything above superficial damage could disable your points or even your whole rig if it’s a bad hit!” The geckin hissed.

“I was showboating.” Admitted Casper. “I let my guard down. My fault. I won’t jeopardise your work again.” The human spoke seriously and with respect at the older engineer who squinted at him as the walking platform approached a door that slid aside without hesitation. The geckin waved a hand, dismissing the thought, seemingly satisfied with Casper’s devoted tone.

The group entered a room that was quite obviously Zeet’s workshop. Ignoring that it looked down on a hanger bay with a skeleton of a rig hanging in the centre, as Casper looked around the room, he learnt of Zeet’s personality. Messy, but devoted.

Mech and rig designs covered an entire wall which was dominated as a workboard. Pens, stylises and measuring tools were scattered everywhere. A large 3D printer squatted in one corner and was covered in tiny, intricate models of various shapes and sizes. Some were of arms and legs of disembodied mechs, and others were tiny replicas of the whole thing.

“Huh… I think you’d get along with some of us humans.” Casper mentioned, crouching to observe the intricate details of one particular model. It was beautifully designed all the way down to sleek lines showing where the various bolts would connect armour plates together.

“After yourself, I would very much like to meet more humans. I suspect if I could get my claws into one that had a history in mech design, fictional or not, we might share ideas…” Zeet offered before clapping his hands and holding them out in front of him, pointing his claws at Casper, drawing attention to himself.

“*But!* We need to design you a machine that will put us both in the history books and… *Not* leave you at the hands of the XixTech corpo-nation.” Declared Zeet, Casper nodding along until his brain caught up to the sentence.

“Wait… ‘Corpo-Nation’?” He asked, standing up again.

“Mm, they represent the eastern continental landmass on Bok. Our homeworld. They are their government representatives.” Explained Zeet matter-of-factly. Casper merely blinked, once again reminded this was not kansas.

“Jesus… Yeah, let's not get dropped into that mess.” The young man agreed, already feeling his head spin. Qik settled herself, leaning against a wall, arms crossed as was her usual stance. Casper sat against the window frame with his back to the hanger below.

“So!” Zeet began. “Torso, Head, Arms, Legs and a Spinal mount. These are your rig’s modifiable options.” Zeet explained, turning to open a large cabinet where he produced three glasses. One tiny, the other two perfectly sized for Casper and Qik. The human glanced at the bottle of dark liquid, then to Qik who touched a long finger against her lips. She didn’t want him to ruin this.

Zeet poured three healthy portions before taking a sip and giving a satisfied sigh, then continuing.

“I already know what I’m doing for your chest, you don’t get a vote there.” He explained, swiping his hand through the air. Qik cleared her throat as she leaned in to pick up a spare glass.

“What’s your idea?” She asked calmly, seemingly trusting his good sense.

“Maximum output. Heavier as an option, more so than an ultralight, but I think the way he modifies his output, it’ll be worth it.” Zeet explained, swirling the glass.

“I modify my output? What do you mean?” Casper asked, frowning somewhat. This apparently was an odd question.

“Wha- My boy… You… It’s not a conscious decision? To pulse your power generation?” Zeet asked, seemingly very confused. Casper pulled a face and shrugged before reaching over and picking up the third and final glass. Taking a sip, it was like paint stripper with a smokey burn afterwards.

“Your power generation is not efficient, or it shouldn’t be! Your reactors ‘pulse’ instead of giving out a steady or constant amount. We thought it was a fault at first until the second and third time it happened. Every rig you hop in, it pulses.” Zeet explained shrugging his arms in defeated confusion, nearly, but not quite spilling his drink.

“Is it dangerous?” Qik asked, narrowing her eyes, but sipping at her own glass, it looked comically small in her hands. Zeet shook his head, sipping at his drink, a tiny red tongue dabbing at the murky liquid.

“I don’t think so, although it was far, far faster when you took that hit.” The geckin conceded, pointing a finger over the rim of his glass.

“Was it like a heartbeat?” Asked Casper, following a hunch. Zeet shook his head again, the corners of his mouth pulling up as if Casper had asked the same question as him.

“No. We thought so too, but it was too slow.” The geckin dismissed, looking into his glass with a contemplative frown. Unconvinced, Casper waited a second, considering what it could have been before getting an idea. Without speaking, Casper knocked his knuckles against the wall he was leaning on. Thump thump. Pause. Thump thump. Pause. The reaction was immediate, the engineer's feet jumping up in unison and briefly leaving the walking platform he stood upon as he pointed and did briefly spill his drink this time. .

“Yes! That! That’s it! Two pulses and a pause. We racked our brains trying to figure that out!”

Casper merely smiled knowingly, closing his eyes and opening them again before speaking, pleased to have an answer for the older geckin.

“That’s *my* heartbeat Zeet.” Tapping his chest with his glass. ”Bigger heart, slower rhythm.” The young man explained. The tiny geckin stood there, motionless for a time. Before closing his eyes and placing his own drink down on the table.

“Your heartbeat. *Your*! Heartbeat. Argh! Rocks in my brain! Terminal rocks!” Zeet exclaimed, causing both Casper and Qik to grin as an apparent mystery was solved for him. The poor geek looked genuinely annoyed as he glared at the ceiling.

“So it’s not an issue?” Asked Qik.

“Huh! Hardly. It means he doesn’t run hot, but has access to power when he needs it. Works well with the rest of my plans.”

“Go on, you’ve ideas, I’m listening.” Casper said, grimacing as he slugged another mouthful of the drink down. It seemed to burn less with the third gulp.

“Chest we go for power. Your spine mount, I suggest an advanced booster. It does mean you’re more vulnerable. One hit to your back and you’ve lost your main defence; not being where they fired at.” The geckin suggested, shrugging with the admission.

“I mean if we’re engaging at range, I can move out of the way of the rounds, right?” Casper offered, looking to Qik for confirmation. She pulled a face and shook her head, her ears flopping with the movement.

“Two problems with that; unreliable reactions and no one uses slug rounds anymore.” She explained. Casper frowned, specifically remembering a fairly solid round tearing through his chest not less than 24 hours ago.

“What do you mean? The geckins do?” He pointed out, rudely pointing at Zeet who could care less as he tilted his head back, finishing off his own glass. He spoke next, pulling Casper’s attention.

“We’re an exception, not a rule. The ursidains also use solid projectiles, but only when they’re firing a heavy hitter. Energy weapons are the name of the game these days. Most see solid projectiles as ‘old’, in the sense of ‘museum piece’ old.” Zeet offered honestly.

Casper thought that was strange, solid projectiles were reliable, but this wasn’t his world. This was a galaxy in a vastly different period of their history than Earth was. He shook his head to clear his mind.

“Okay fine, keep mobile. What about arms and legs? What about weapons?” He pressed, almost looking forward to hearing what toys Zeet was offering.

“Legs wise, again, I’d go for speed. Extra vents for additional jet exhausts. Rather than running, you’ll end up ‘skating’ around the enemy. Good luck keeping up with you. You’ll need it too.” Zeet offered.

“Are the enemies quick?” Casper asked.

“Fairly. Spider-Technicals.” Qik responded.

“What are they?”

“Heavy armour, focused laser beam for their main cannon. Prolonged targeting will thermal shock the armour that gets hit, burrowing through whatever it's shooting at. The tanks are mobile, capable of keeping line of sight on their target and climbing up and around buildings to do so. The intention is to have a small army of them and they just overwhelm any target that approaches.” The lopel explained, polishing off her own glass and gesturing with her hands, as if she were spreading a model army out in front of her.

“So keep circling them?” Casper suggested.

“And they’ll have to track you. We keep you light and mobile, they focus on you…” Qik went on, trailing off to allow Casper to finish the thought.

“...And you take them out while their back is turned.” The young man concluded, nodding at the idea. He could be bait, he didn’t even have to fight. Just wave his arms in the air and keep their attention.

“He’s a fast learner.” Zeet pointed out, nodding to Casper but looking to Qik. She merely grinned and returned to her ‘arms crossed’ posture, smugness radiating off her.

“Thanks to his teacher.”

Zeet was less than sure.

“Mm. Sure.” He blinked slowly and turned his head back to the huma before opening them again. “Arms wise, we have options.“

“I did consider a plasma thrower, but it's heavy and drains a lot of power during charge up. Good against another mech, less so for tanks. We have similar options like sniper beams, but same thing. Line of sight and you’d need to be still.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“If we are going with this plan, we should actually keep you lightly armed. How do you feel about a solid sword?”

“Solid? But what about my lightsaber!”

“No, too draining. If we’re keeping you as fast as we intend, we need you using 100% of your reactor’s output. A solid sword, atomised edge, you’ll still be dangerous. Lightweight metal, no drain on your resources, there's no downsides besides no range. But that's not an issue this time.”

“Atomised edge?” Casper asked, just checking for clarification. Zeet nodded and hastened to explain before moving on.

“An edge a few atoms thick. Blunts faster, but realistically, this is a blitz, you’re not going to be out there long enough to need to worry about that.”

“What could I cut through?”

“Anything with enough force behind your swing. Do *not* touch the edge with any part of yourself.” The geckin demanded with a serious tone and an accusing finger. Casper held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Yes sir.”

Zeet merely nodded. Qik remained quietly thinking as she scratched her own chin.

“So, speed, speed, speed?” Casper summarised.

“Quite so. Qik, I trust you will just select your weapons as normal?” Zeet asked, turning to the lopel as he sat himself in a chair. The merc merely nodded and lay her palm up as if presenting her idea.

“I’m going for a swarm missile rig. If it’s just technicals, I don’t need anything else.” She explained with a carless shrug.

“Swarm missile?” Casper prodded.

“Line of sight lock on, you fire the swarm and they fire up into the air before raining down on the tanks. Doesn’t matter if they’re crawling on or around buildings. They’ll punch through their armour. The downside is I need to see them to lock on, which sucks when LOS works both ways.” Qik went on, but then leaned forward to emphasize her words. .

“Buuut…” She drawled.

“But if they’re looking at me, that doesn’t matter.” Casper replied, grinning back at the lopel. She held his gaze a moment longer than needed before straightening and giving him her approval.

“Attaboy.”

Casper considered his options, and turned back to Zeet.

“So a sword? Nothing else?” He asked.

Zeet, his hands on his head, turned the chair to face the larger human.

“Did you have something else in mind?”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #human #cuddleverse #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

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deluweil · 1 day

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To be honest the way part of the fandom has treated this Tommy character as a god makes me dislike him more. Unfortunately the Buck bi arc was tainted for me because it all feels force. Also what doesn't help is that Eddie was to much involved in that storyline.

The way people are acting like it's a perfect relationship and yet we barely saw them together feels just weird.

Also I don't like how some literally push Eddie away for this new white man.

This is Taylor Kelly all over again. The sad part is that the season is short and people wAnt to to spend their time giving more to the new guy.

I hope him and Marisol are gone, but I'm afraid. These two characters took the joy out of the Buck and Eddie storyline for me.

The fandom, I think, in this case, is definitely the problem here,

Lou is completely unassuming and enjoying the process and being a buddie shipper just like us - if one actually bothers to read the interviews and not just pick and choose what to talk about.

That is what makes me like Lou.

The fandom has somehow glorified Tommy's character after a couple of episodes and yeah it rubs the wrong way, because, what about the story we had so far?

Is season 7 a reset to 911? and everything that came before that doesn't count? Why not just make it 911 abc pilot then?

I don't think that's the case, but I think the last minute switch between Buck and Eddie kind of ruined it for the Tim because, yes, in a way it feels forced and out of left field.

Supposed that Buck was indeed vying for Tommy's attention, why do it like that? and why involve Eddie in the first place?

I have a lot of questions and my main problem here is not that Buck is experimenting with Tommy, it's the way they practically propelled this ship off the cliff into a dangerous spin, they went from zero to 200 in a second. - That is not how you build a relationship.

You don't try to figure out what you want, mess up the first date, then invite said date to an apology coffee and then invite him to family wedding on the way. It just doesn't work that way.

I may be straight, but I have gay and bi and lesbian friends, neither one of them has ever brought a second or even a third date to so much as a friends get together before they were sure that this is something that would last, before they brought the intended victim to be judged by friends and family.

And people who talk about Tommy as being established in the 118 family, that is not true. He has a connection with Chimney in that that he owes him his life and an acquaintance with Hen, who is clearly not very fond of him, because of obvious past she had with him and their old house before Bobby came into the picture. - Remember - Chimney was her ONLY lifeline in that house.

Tommy was not a liked character before.

Arguably Buck had more history with Taylor than he did with Tommy (which is none at all) - But Taylor is a strong opinionated and often self-serving woman (not unlike Buck mind you), emphasis on woman. - That is the only reason she never stood a chance. Because the writers could have made her and Buck the greatest love story this show has seen, but they continuously managed to ruin any fondness for any female LI to ever grace that set.

And this season is short, to bring in a new LI kinda defeats the purpose of re-establishing the team and this show, because it does feel the same as any of Buck's old relationships that were being pushed for the benefit of 'god forbid Buck actually learns how to be alone and healthy and happy' - the only thing that changed in Buck this season is his sexuality and nothing else, and that vexes me.

My problem is not with Tommy, it's the perpetuation of 'poor baby Buck' society. - I love Oliver and I love Buck - I am tired of the ever repeating pattern of forgiveness for his self serving ways without any accountability that we keep seeing.

I don't think Buck's or even Eddie's firsts or you know what? even seconds should be each other, I am more than happy to make this journey with them, but let it be a marathon not a sprint to the finish line - they knew they would get renewed for another season, they could have written and built it better than what we got - because the moment they switched gears after the second episode, the story became written in the same messy last minute way both S4 and most of S5 were written.

There is no grand plan, at this point they are merely winging it and see where the wind takes them. - And that is idiotic, they had SO MUCH TIME to make this a well written story with the strike and long break after that, to write as they film is lazy and stupid and mostly childish.

And yes this is Taylor all over again, not in that they are the same type of people, but that Buck is jumping head first into a relationship without actually knowing how he got there. - Bobby said that himself - and it is the same, because who in their right mind invite a second (kinda) date to a family event? Like dude have you ever dated before? Do you how this works?

It is a LOT of pressure and not even for Buck himself - because he brought this on himself - but rather for Tommy (aka the intended victim) to be first introduced to the family after a couple of dates when he himself has no idea where he and Buck are standing.

Marisol, has indeed sucked the joy out of the Eddie's story, I don't get why do either of the boys had to be in a relationship starting this season to begin with. Like, she is literally a handbag, the token hetero symbol, so to speak, what she is doing there? is beyond me.

The catholic guilt of her being a nun is bullshit, and as Bobby said himself, Eddie has no problem committing to certain people/things. She serves no purpose this season other than a seat warmer/ glorified babysitter since Buck is otherwise engaged.

They could have gone for Eddie finding his way in the department, Eddie dealing with his mommy issues, Eddie trying to figure out what and who he wants in his life, Eddie trying to navigate Chris' terrible teenage years.

They could have explored the fact that a guy going with his supposed gf/wife in the golf course checking Eddie's hot ass (6X17) - Oh wait, they were going to... the ground for Eddie's coming out was all laid out and they took a sharp turn to left field in the second episode of S7 and made it all about Buck again, because the Natalia actress couldn't come?? what kind of a weak ass reason is that?

And yes, the cliche of receiving the odd white man out (who played a controversial role in early seasons) rather than the regular casted poc male or the guest starring woman, for that matter, better is all kind of f-ed up, but no one would talk about that, of course. 👀

Anyway, I am hoping that whatever is coming next will be worthy of our time and attention because so far we got about more of the same as far as Buck and Eddie are concerned - except that Buck has just broaden his variety and has a bigger pallet of mate choosing at his disposal.

I have two very close bi friends, so I know how their minds work, because God knows they share with me more than I ever wanted to know lol. And one of them is watching 911 with me and she is happy for the rep as well, but unhappy with how it was developed too.

At the moment, I have decided to put any Buck and Eddie topics aside and just want to get the LONG AWAITED Madney wedding, if anyone deserve a happy ending, it's them. ❤️

#911 ask #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #marisol whatever her last name is #buddie #911 spoilers #911 speculation #don't you dare to rb this with an opposing opinion - i don't care that you think tommy farts rainbows out of his ass make your own post #and if you don't like what i write block me so you can save me the trouble of blocking you #not directed to this anon #just a warning to toxic fandom groopies that has done it before - naturally they were blocked #I am entitled to my opinion just like you are entitled to yours #deluweil replies

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roseghoul26 · 1 day

Text

Chapter 7: My House of Stone...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long i got such bad writers block Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

When Arthur didn’t show up after a few days, you tried to not let it get to you. He was a busy man, no doubt even more busy because of the job involving your husband. You ignored the fact that he proved that he would fight everything to come and see you, consequences be damned. It was almost out of character that he hadn’t come to see you, or had reached out to you in some way.

When a few more days passed with no sign of the outlaw, you found yourself going back over your last encounter, when he had taken you out on Bear. You don’t recall any hesitancy or doubt in his eyes when he was with you, or maybe you were too blind with your own desire to see it. That thought made you reel, panicking that you made him uncomfortable and scared him off.

But you didn’t let that thought fester for too long. You spent your days doing menial tasks with no real passion, trying to just pass the time. It worked, mostly, but you were getting antsy. How you wished you had an easy way to leave the prison that had become the house.

Even more days passed, each day becoming more and more anxiety ridden. Instead of worrying that you’d scared him off now, you were worried that he was dead, or in shackles, about to be hung up in the town square. Your nights were becoming restless, images of his dead body haunting you when you closed your eyes. You’d wake with bloodshot eyes, even more tired than you were when you went to bed.

You eventually stopped counting the days, not wanting to know how long he’d been gone for. You tried to spend more and more time outside of the house, bringing blankets and books from Hans’ office to your garden, waiting to escape the confinement of the walls around you. It helped, for a bit, yet you still found your mind wandering, constantly worrying about Arthur.

But no matter how hard you tried, you found that you couldn’t hate the man. Upset, sure, angry, definitely, but not hateful. No, your heart wouldn’t allow it. You were still in love with him, and the lack of contact from him was hurting you, both physically and mentally. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to find it in yourself to take care of your body. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He had wormed his way into your very being, and left a hole that couldn’t be fixed. You just hoped that he’d return soon and make you feel whole again.

It was during this time that you decided to draft a letter to your family, hoping that it would alleviate the loneliness that was once removed by Arthur. You sat in Hans’ office, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the blank piece of paper in front of you, the task proving to be more difficult than you imagined. It had been two years since you’d last spoken to them, and you had no idea what to say. How much was too much? How honest was too honest?

You decided to keep it simple, and you began to write. It took a few tries, but you eventually produced a letter that you were satisfied with.

My dear family,

I have missed you all, incredibly so. Words don’t even begin to do it justice. I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I do so hope to hear back from you, and perhaps have the pleasure of seeing each other in the flesh soon.

Your daughter,

You finished it with your name, but just your first name. Tucking it into an envelope, you addressed it with the address Arthur had provided you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Arthur’s handwriting, rereading the note he left you.

Making sure to leave the office as you found it, you made your way downstairs, setting the letter on the kitchen table, ready to grab for whenever you decided to go into town. You spent a few days at home after writing the letter, hoping that one night you’d hear the familiar hoofbeats of Bear, but were left disappointed each night.

Eventually, though, you needed to leave, if just for a short bit of time. It had been roughly three weeks since you’d last left the house, and if you had to look at the same things again you were going to snap, leaving the house as a pile of ash. So, with a small purse with some cash, you took the letter and yourself and left.

If it weren't for your current mindset, the walk to the main road would’ve been relaxing, enjoying the noises of animals and the cool breeze against your skin. But everything is annoying you now. The wind was causing your hair to blow in your face, and if you had to hear that birdsong one more time, you were going to lose it. Or maybe you’d already lost it.

The sun blinded you as you left the shade of the thick forest, stepping out onto the main road. You always hated doing this, but you were desperate. Slowly, you began to walk towards Rhodes, keeping a close ear for any riders.

It took a few minutes, but you eventually heard someone approaching from behind, and you perked up, putting on your friendliest face as you stopped and turned. It was a carriage, and you began to wave them down, but they ignored you, not even bothering to glance in your direction. Rude.

Still, you kept on, not letting one bad interaction deter you. A few more carriages and wagons passed, with similar responses. Everyone looked grim, you noticed, stone-faced and somber expressions. Now you were starting to feel dejected, and you debated just heading back to the house; you weren’t that far anyway.

Before you could come to a decision, a single rider passed you, glancing at you even though you didn’t wave him down. Something like recognition flashed across his face, even though you’d never seen this man in your life. He had longer, black-brown hair that was tied into a small ponytail, with a mustache and goatee, and a bowler hat protecting his tanned skin. He had a blue denim jacket on, with a red handkerchief around his neck, and you noted that he was surprisingly well dressed for being an alone traveler on the road.

“Mrs. Kerrigan?” He asked, almost in disbelief, like you were a creature from folklore, pulling his gray and white horse to a halt beside you.

You braced yourself, ready to bolt as you stared at the man. “Yes?” You asked, suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize who you were, but they’d never acted like they knew you personally. You dove into the deep recess of your brain trying to remember who he was, but drawing a blank; he was a stranger to you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which was a tad bit off putting from a complete stranger. Still, you couldn't detect any malicious intent in his words.

Sighing, you answered truthfully. “I’m tryin’ to get to Rhodes. You… you don’t happen to be goin’ there, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, truly sounding regretful, but then his face turned thoughtful.

“Ah. No worries then. Have a good day.”

You tried to continue moving, but his smooth voice made you halt again. “But it’s close enough. I can only bring you to the outskirts, though.”

“You’d do that?” You smiled when he nodded. “I can pay, too. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Escuella. But you can call me Javier.” He extended a hand to you, helping you on to the back of his horse. You sat sidesaddle, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, your hands resting on his sides.

Javier. You remember Arthur telling you about someone with the same name, and although you highly doubted that this was the same Javier, you wished that he had a drawing of him. “Thank you, Javier.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kerrigan.” Javier gestured his horse forward, setting an easygoing pace; not too fast, not too slow. A small pang hit your heart as you remembered the last time you were on a horse, your body pressed up to Arthur’s, his rough voice in your ears, the playful glint in his eye. God, you missed him.

“I’ll pay you when we get to town,” you repeated after a few minutes of riding, and you felt Javier chuckle.

“I appreciate it, but I think Arthur would kill me.” Your blood ran cold, and your heart began to race just at the mention of him. So this was Javier, the one Arthur traveled with in the mountains to rescue John. It makes sense then, why he seemed to recognize you.

“Well, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” you commented.

“He’s talked about me, then?”

“All good things,” you reassured, and he just shook his head, not believing you. You desperately wanted to ask him about Arthur, if he was alive or not, but you weren’t sure if any answer he gave you would hurt less. “Does… does he talk about me?”

Javier snorted. “Yes and no. He’ll talk about you, sometimes so much that we want to kill him, but then refuses to answer any of our questions. Some of us even doubted your existence,” he laughed, “but I’m glad to see that we’re wrong. You’ve made him real happy. I haven’t seen him this… optimistic in a long time.”

You were glad he was facing forward, so he couldn’t see the way those words broke you. Biting back tears, you kept your voice steady. “How is Arthur?”

“He’s fine?” He responded, very clearly confused as to why you didn’t know. “He’s been, well, ‘helping’ your husband.”

Oh. “So the names he got led to somethin’?”

“Sure did. We were able to track down suppliers, and disrupt his business there. He’s yet to reach out for help, but Dutch doesn’t think it’ll be long now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You weren’t lying. “But he’s well?” You couldn’t help but ask about him again.

“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days, but we’re pulling through.”

Only a couple of days. You refrained from asking what he’d gotten up to earlier, not wanting to appear desperate, even if you were. “I’m glad. And don’t make me regret saying this, but if anyone ever needs a place to lie low for a bit, point ‘em towards my house. At least when my husband isn’t there.” Even though you’d barely met any of the members, you couldn’t help but feel protective over the gang because of how deeply Arthur cared about them. If there was anything you could do to help them, you would.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Thank you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Arthur was right about you; you’re too kind for this world.”

You murmured a small thanks, and the two of you fell into an easy silence for the rest of the ride. When the familiar outskirts of Rhodes appeared, you felt Javier begin to grow nervous, his head moving back and forth, like he was on the lookout for something. “We can stop here,” you said once you reached a long abandoned house, the yellow paint chipping and peeling.

Red dust kicked up when your feet hit the ground, and you quickly took out a few bills, handing them to Javier. “Again, I can’t take this,” he held up a hand, a small smile on his face.

“I ain’t payin’ you for the ride, though. I payin’ you to deliver a message to Arthur,” you countered, but he didn’t relent. Sighing, you tucked them into the saddlebags before facing him with your hands on your hips. “Tell him to come see me. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Do you have a ride back home?”

“I can arrange something’. Now go; you look uncomfortable just being here.”

He chuckled, not disagreeing with you. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“You too, Javier. Stay safe.”

He nodded, smiling kindly at you before turning, taking off back down the road you’d just been on. Turning toward the town, you began to make your way to the center of town, right to the post office in the railroad station.

It was eerily quiet, more like a ghost town than anything. There wasn’t a single soul lingering on the porches or the street, and the shutters of most of the buildings were shut, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day on a weekday. There weren’t even any animals out; it was just you and the dust.

After a few tense minutes of walking, you eventually climbed the stairs of the railroad station, the creak of the old wood almost making you jump. It was just as empty on the inside as it was outside, the other person in the building, the person behind the counter, who smiled tensely as you entered.

“Good afternoon, missus,” he exclaimed, the chip in his voice far too forced. “Say, can’t say I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”

“You’ve probably met my husband, Mr. Kerrigan,” you responded, making your way to the counter, pulling the letter from your bag.

“Ah yes. Well, how can I help you, Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You slid the letter across to him. “I’d like to send this, please.”

“Not a problem at all. That’ll be five cents.”

Sliding him a nickel from your bag, you looked around as he stamped the letter, putting it in the appropriate mailbox. “Is there anythin’ else I can help you with?”

“Why is it so… dead?” You glanced back at the man, who had visibly paled at your question.

“Interesting choice of words, ma’am. Let’s just say we had an… incident yesterday. Nothing befitting a proper lady like yourself.” He explained, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Ominous. Realizing you weren’t going to get far with him, you wished him a good day before leaving. You made your way to the general store; Mr. Banks would let you know.

The bell chimed as you entered, and you called out for the older gentleman, and you heard the sound of crashing from the back room, clearly scaring the poor man. A disheveled Mr. Banks peeked around the corner, visibly relaxing when he saw it was just you. You opened your mouth to try and apologize, but he cut you off. “You didn't bring that ‘deputy’ with ya, did you?” He asked, growing tense again.

“Arthur? No, he’s not with me.”

“Good. I’ll kill him on sight if he even dares to step foot in Rhodes again. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Physically, no. “Mr. Banks, what in the world-”

“Him and his buddies shot up the town yesterday. Killed the good Leigh Gray, Lord bless his soul,” he shuddered, and you halted in your tracks, your somewhat amused smile at his ramblings falling.

“What?”

He pointed to a newspaper on the counter, and you cautiously stepped toward it. Bloodthirsty Gang Kills Dozens was the headline, a few paragraphs of text following below it. Your head spun at the new information, blocking out the words of Mr. Banks. You couldn’t gauge what you were feeling; you weren’t disgusted, or revolted, even though you knew you should be. You weren’t surprised; you knew that Arthur had done things, unspeakable things, and would continue to do so. You weren’t angry at what he did, but you were angry at him for putting himself in harm’s way like that.

“I’ll take the paper,” you cut Mr. Banks off, sliding him a few bills, and he slid the paper to you. You barely mumbled out a ‘good day’ before you left, nose deep in the paper as you headed back to the railroad station, sitting on the bench waiting for the carriage services, and you read as you waited.

You read all about the way the gang played both families, something you had no idea was happening. You weren’t hurt that he didn’t tell you; you knew that some things had to remain secrets. But you didn’t care much about the detail, eyes scanning for any telling of death or injury to the Van Der Linde gang. You knew that Javier probably didn’t lie to you, but you still needed to be sure.

Your heart dropped when you saw that there was indeed one confirmed killing of a member of the Van Der Linde gang, but you didn’t recognize the description they provided. The others, it seemed, were still at large, and unhurt. Knowing how deeply Arthur cared about each member of the gang, you knew that this death was probably weighing heavily on him. If only he would come and see you, just so you could help him.

The sound of a carriage approaching had you standing, tucking the paper under your arm. Getting in, you directed the driver to your house, and you quickie got lulled into the rocking rhythm of the vehicle. You ignored the paper under your arm, even though it felt like a million pounds.

The ride felt like forever, but eventually you pulled into the familiar forested area of Ringneck Creek. The driver helped you out, and after you paid him you headed inside, feeling like you were just going through the motions. Despite everything you’d learned, there was one thing that really bothered you. The shootout had only been yesterday; what had stopped him from seeing you during the previous three weeks?

Even though it wasn’t late, you found yourself getting ready for bed anyway, keeping the paper on the table downstairs and grabbing a book from Hans' office before curling beneath the sheets. Your eyes skimmed the words, not processing them, your brain too distracted by today’s events.

You weren’t quite sure how you “read” for, but you must’ve fallen asleep at some point. A loud noise, like a door being slammed, had you bolting upright, pulled out of your uneasy slumber, the book luckily not hitting the ground. When you didn’t hear anything for a few moments, you thought you had just imagined it, and you went to try and go back to bed.

That was until you heard the sound of heavy footfalls. Shit. Tearing off the covers, you padded lightly across the wooden floor, wishing that Hans wasn’t so opposed to keeping guns in the house. You had nothing to defend yourself with, so kept to the shadows as you left the room.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you flinched when you saw the shadow of a man making its way toward the stairs. You began to back away, back into the safety of your room, until you recognized the familiar silhouette of the man. Don’t tell me…

Cautiously, you made your way downstairs, barely making a noise. You had to stifle a gasp once you reached the bottom, your suspicions confirmed when you saw Arthur standing in your dining room, back to you, glancing over the newspaper you’d set on the table. His hair was longer, his clothing unkempt, but it was still the same man you had fallen for.

Too many emotions ran through you, from anger to longing to desire to sadness. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face, and so you just stood at the bottom of the stairs, shocked.

Eventually, Arthur turned, the only sign of him being startled was his eyes widening. Those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted your thoughts, that you longed to see again. You let out a small gasp then, audible only to you. It was really hard to remain still, every fiber of your being craving to be in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours.

Neither of you knew what to say, just staring at each other. Even in the low light, you could see that Arthur looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his shoulders sagging. Being on the run would do that to a man. “So Javier wasn’t kiddin’. You’re alive.” You didn’t care that your voice was scathing.

Javier must’ve said something to him, because Arthur didn’t seem surprised that you mentioned the other man. If you ever met him again, you’d have to thank him for sticking to his word about delivering a message. “I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ll leave.” Oh, how you missed his rugged voice.

Arthur turned to head back out the front door. “Stay. Please.” You called out, making your voice softer, stopping him in his tracks. Don’t leave me again.

He took a deep breath before turning back around, somethin like guilt on his features. “It’s been three weeks, Arthur.” You sighed out.

“I know, darlin’.” You nearly broke then, his name for you crumbling your resolve. Yet you held, fingers gripping the railing with a death grip. “There was an… incident-”

“The shootout in town,” you cut him off. “Don’t sugarcoat things. I know what you get up to. I know the things you’ve done.”

Arthur didn’t bother to try to disagree, and you were thankful for that. “After the shootout in Rhodes, I couldn’t risk comin’ over to see ya’.”

“I understand, but that was only a few days ago. Arthur, it's been three weeks.” You didn’t bother to hide the pain in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Then where’ve you been?” He didn’t respond, and you laughed bitterly. “I thought you were dead, Arthur. Or you were about to be strung up in the gallows. Or you… I was worried sick, and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead was because Javier told me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want an explanation.” You let go of the railing. “Why?” Arthur hung his head, and you began to step towards him.

“You deserve somethin’ better, darlin’.”

“And you thought the best thing for me was to leave me alone and heartbroken. And who is this ‘someone better’ I deserve? Hans? No, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t much better! You said it yourself, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve killed people, so many I’ve lost track. Hell, I was the one who killed Sheriff Gray. My whole life I’ve tricked and duped and betrayed people; I ain’t a good man’. You’re too sweet, too kind. You deserve somethin’ better than that, than me.”

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve hurt people, Arthur? You didn’t think when you said you were an outlaw that I wouldn’t, I don’t know, realize you’ve done some unlawful things? I know what kind of man you are, and who you claim to be, yet when I think of you I think of a man that is also good, generous, sweet.” You continued to move towards him, even as he shook his head.

“A man that would come check up on a sad woman in the woods just ‘cause she asked, that would find her family’s address so she could write to them.” You were close enough to him that you could reach out and touch him.

“A man that’s made my miserable existence feel worthwhile, that has become the best goddamn part of my life.” His hands were shaking, you found when you took one of them in both of yours. Those familiar calloused fingers were oh so comforting, and you brought them close to your heart.

You took a deep breath. “A man that I’ve completely fallen in love with.”

His hands stopped shaking, or maybe yours were. You couldn’t tell.

Arthur was speechless, but you could tell that he didn’t oppose your confession, because he pulled you closer. His free hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You shouldn’t…”

“Too late now, Arthur.” You breathed out. “I… I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He repeated again with more edge, but you could see how conflicted he was. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from it.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because every damn good thing in my life gets ruined. Every person I lo- care ‘bout, I make their lives worse, and they regret ever openin’ their hearts to me. Did ya know I almost married a girl, then I ruined that. I- I had a kid,” his voice grew thick with emotion, “and he’s no longer with us. All because of me, and the life I lead. All because wherever I go, someone’ll be huntin’ down the people I care about, no matter how innocent they are. I couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me.”

Oh. You were speechless now, and your heart ached for the man in front of you. “Arthur… I can’t guarantee that somethin’ won’t happen to me, but do you really wanna live your life in fear, pushing away those who care about you?”

“I can’t lose you, darlin’. I can’t.”

“But you almost did, pushin’ me away like that. What then?”

“I…” he took a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck gently. “I don’t know.”

“So don’t push me away. Yes, it’s terrifying, caring about someone like this. You don’t think I worry ‘bout you every time you’re not here? That I don’t worry that we’ll be found out, and this whole thing will come burning down around us? But isn’t it worth it? ”

He sighed, before resting his head against yours, his hat sliding back a bit. “It is.”

“Then mean it. To yourself. To me.” His lips were so close now, and you wanted nothing more than to close the space between them. You let go of his hand, choosing to rest your hands on his chest instead. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingers, just as fast as yours was. “I love you, Arthur, and there isn’t a damn thing you can say that’ll change that.”

Arthur exhaled shakily, and even in the dim light you could see a small smile on his lips. “And I’m grateful for your stubbornness.” You chuckled lightly at his words. “I’ve been a fool-”

“None of that. You ain’t a fool, Arthur.”

“Maybe not. But I’m a fool for you.” You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, knees growing weak at the now grin on his face. That dazzling, beautiful grin. But his expression sobered, and you temporarily feared the worst. “You should know that I do feel the same, darlin’. I really do. It’s just, I can’t…”

“You can’t say it back,” you refrained from sounding too crestfallen. You could be content with the fact that he agreed he felt the same. For now. He shook his head, looking ashamed, and you forced his gaze back up to yours when he tried to look away. “Then show me. Show me that you love me.”

“I could spend every last minute of my life showin’ you, and it still wouldn’t be enough time,” he chuckled, his thumb brushing just below your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, and something darkened in them. “But I can certainly try.”

He leaned in, finally closing the distance, and you felt like you could cry with relief. His lips felt even better than you remembered, more desperate than you’d ever felt them. You dropped his hand, arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss you, his hat falling to the ground as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, the hand still holding your face brushing your cheek. “Darlin’, you’re cryin’,” he murmured, his brow creasing with concern.

“Good tears,” you laughed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I just missed you, so much.”

Another flash of guilt appeared on his face. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He regarded you for a few moments, and you nearly pulled him back down yourself, desperate to feel his lips again. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long, because he was kissing you again, weeks of pent up longing, fear, and love being poured into it. It made you dizzy, and your fingers tangled further into his hair, eliciting a groan from the man.

Arthur’s free hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he kissed you. They gripped even harder when you ran your tongue against his lips, not expecting you to take control of the kiss. He willingly let his lips part, letting you explore him with ease.

You hadn’t even realized Arthur had moved until you felt your back hit a wall, the back of your head cradled by his hand. It made you groan, breaking away from the kiss, and Arthur wasted no time trialing his lips down your neck. Your head rolled back, letting out pleased sighs and light moans as he littered kisses across your neck, his facial hair ticking the sensitive skin.

“Arthur,” you groaned, hands still in his hair, and you felt him hum in response.

“My beautiful girl,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything, and you were grateful for the stability the wall provided. The hand on your waist moved down, securing under your thigh and lifting it so that your leg wrapped around him. You inadvertently began to rock your hips, eliciting another delicious groan from Arthur.

“God, Arthur, I need you.” You didn’t care if you were pleading. You’d been plenty patient; you were allowed to be greedy.

“I’m takin’ my time with ya. We’ve got all night.”

Another groan tore from your throat. All night. “You promise?” You asked, echoing his previous words. If he was promising all night, then you could be patient for a little while longer.

You felt him grin against your skin, nipping lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Promise.”

Author's Note: surprise javier appearance bam!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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