regretmade-blog

[regretmade-blog]

valkiriya:

slides the dash $2 …….. ship with me

[regretmade-blog]

sexual encounters // nsfw .

slightly nsfw (soft)

“kiss me… there again —”

“mm… please… i love it when you do that…”

“i love the way you touch me…”

“you’re ~ making me so hard…”

“you’re ~ making me so wet…”

“come closer; i want to feel you”

“your hips feel so good in my hands”

“your butt is so cute… i could eat it up ~”

“your pussy is so cute… i could eat it up ~”

“a–ah… that ~ tickles…”

“you are already turned on ~?”

“i can’t wait until we’re alone…”

“is it alright if i touch you here?”

“ ~ that’s my baby…”

slightly more nsfw

“can i take it in?”

“i am going to put it in now…”

“please… ~ i need you”

“i’m dying to feel you inside me…”

“you’re so ~ wet”

“mm… that’s right; spread a little more for me”

“you look gorgeous…”

“you look so hot like this”

“i love the way you blow me…”

“i’ll go slow for now”

“faster, please…”

“m–more…~”

“wanna… sit on my lap?”

“bend over baby… i’ll do the rest”

“god… you look so delicious standing like this…”

“mm… i love the way your mouth feels around me”

[regretmade-blog]

Send me ▲ for an aesthetic of your muse; Send me ♊ for a relationship aesthetic of our muses

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SEND ME ♊ FOR A RELATIONSHIP AESTHETIC FOR OUR MUSES

mary christiansen  &   robert   small   / @regretfulmom

                                                                                         * personals do not reblog !!

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SEND ME ♊ FOR A RELATIONSHIP AESTHETIC FOR OUR MUSES

lucius so  &   robert   small   /  @solucius

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SEND ME ♊ FOR A RELATIONSHIP AESTHETIC FOR OUR MUSES

rebecca philips  &   robert   small   /  @desxderium

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SEND ME ♊ FOR A RELATIONSHIP AESTHETIC FOR OUR MUSES 

 morgan   hide   &   robert   small   /   @paperflowerlullabies

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—  @freexmedic . ❜

                “I’M FINE, ANGELA, REALLY.” He’s still in a state of denial, still believes it’s not as bad as it looks, even though his hand is positively gushing with scarlet because his whittling knife struck way, way deeper than he thought it initially had. Make no mistake, Robert’s no rookie when it comes to whittling. He’s got years of practice under his belt, he’s used to getting sliced and stabbed by little knicks here and there, the scars on his hands are testament to that... but this one really takes the cake. It’d been hard enough for him to decide to swallow his pride and acknowledge maybe it was bleeding a little more than anticipated, he’d grabbed his first aid kit from the depths of his truck and decided to pay a visit to someone who really knows their injuries. Thank God for a knowing a doctor so close to home, right? “Okay, maybe I’m not fine-fine but... it could be worse, right? I’ve still got all four fingers and my thumb still there, yeah?”

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@solucius:

            ❝ i knew you were quite the softy, but even i didn’t expect this. ❞ not that he didn’t love the action, tucking some hair behind his ear so the flower’s position would have been stable. his gaze followed robert as the man sat down beside him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. ❝ i love you, y’know that?< ❞

               GOD, HE IS STILL NOT used to those three words at all --- and you can tell by the way his features twist into an almost bashful, boyish grin, casting his gaze downward. Thank fuck he put his shades on before leaving the house --- they help to hide the threat of red, the scarlet blush creeping beneath the smooth skin of tan cheeks. “Don’t get tellin’ anyone. Not that they’d probably believe you on the softy front.” He muses, leans so he can kiss Lucius back, the brief locking of lips tender as a hand slides to rest gingerly at the other man’s hip. “I do. But I never get tired of hearin’ it. And you know... I love you too, right?” A couple years back, he wouldn’t have even been capable of a sentence like that. But a lot can change with the right person.

[regretmade-blog]

— @regretfulmom. ❜

              GUILT LIKE THIS HASN’T grabbed hold of that thrumming, fist-like organ in his chest, twisted and pulled so violently in years. It feels crippling, almost, this sense taking hold of his bones, washing his marrow in a lake of mild anxiety. When she’d opened the door, home alone, he’d felt relief rise from the depths of dread and despair --- the last thing he would’ve wanted is for the pink shirt, golden haired devil to be there --- but it had only been momentarily, for then came the task of explaining himself. Apologising. Insisting, hoping, that she’d believe him. And to his surprise... she did. Mary Christiansen listened, patient as a saint; and she offered him no chagrin, no spite. If anything, she empathised, and explained to Robert truths veiled by a tender smile and baby blue eyes.

             It hadn’t been the first time. Maybe that’s the worst part of all this --- no matter how naive and unknowing he was, newcomer that he is in an old leather jacket & battered red truck, hardly settled for a month, if that, Joseph knew exactly what he had waiting for him at home, knew exactly what he was getting himself into, knew exactly what he was doing when he slipped the golden wedding band from his ring finger. NOT THE FIRST TIME. He’s a repeat offender, according to his spouse, a serial cheater. Robert could...never cheat on anyone. The thought of betraying Marilyn, his dear, late wife like that... it makes him feel nauseous. Why be in a marriage if you’re obviously unhappy? To him, it doesn’t make sense. Is this relationship between Joseph and his wife, all some fucked up game? Some form of pretend, make believe, a load of hypocritical, fake, phoney bullshit for the rest of the neighbourhood to look upon in envy? Small doesn’t understand --- but in time, he will.

            “I’m sorry.” It’s the third time he’s muttered it, now, staring into the sea of whiskey that bobs around in little round glass. Fuck, does he feel awful. They already have three children together, a boy and a set of non fraternal twins. What kind of man in his right mind risks all that? Unless the only reason they’re still together is the children. God, this is a mess. But she seems to be taking it well. Especially considering she agreed on the offer of Robert taking her out for something to drink; try and find some common ground. “I... really don’t know what to say.”

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paperflowerlullabies:

“I’m, like, 90% sure that’s Betsy all the time,” noted Morgan. She bit her bottom lip at the mention of the cigarettes. The woman had quit years ago, but just one couldn’t hurt– no. She was going to refuse like a good girl. He didn’t know she quit, just that she used to smoke. So, to keep her from thinking about the pack, she focused her thoughts on Betsy.

“Robert, I want your dog. She’s the cutest thing ever and I would do anything to have a dog like her. Actually, any dog. I want a dog.” Morgan was the queen of small talk, unfortunately for Robert, but it helped keep her from thinking. She made it clear the first time they hung out that sometimes, she talked so much that she could even annoy herself. “If you don’t trip me to escape the ghost, I think you need to come help me find the perfect dog for me. I’ll need someone to protect me when you’re not around.” She was teasing, about him tripping her. Morgan wanted a companion, one that won’t disappear. One that she can love unconditionally and receiving it back.

Whoa, feelings territory had been hit.

                 ALTHOUGH HE’S NOT A FAN OF small talk, the discussion’s taken a turn towards dogs, and even intoxicated, Robert can appreciate how wonderful society’s four legged friends are. The hound he keeps a snapshot of in his wallet isn’t actually the same dog he owns; he likes to fool people into thinking he owns a terrifying creature capable of snapping bone with sharp canines, but the reality of the situation is Betsy is the most skittish, clumsy little thing going. “If you want a dog, I suggest talkin’ to Damien.” Though he figures on first glance, Bloodmarch doesn’t seem to be the type of person you’d expect to be into the whole looking after dog’s thing --- but he owes him. Without Damien, Rob wouldn’t have Betsy, his beloved companion. And she’s been his rock since she entered his life, helped ease the loneliness that gnaws at the threads of his soul.

                “Don’t gimme ideas.” He smirks at the suggestion of tripping her over. He’s tripped arse over tit up here inebriated before --- luckily nobody was around to see. That sort of thing very well breaks the mysterious and ‘too cool to care’ vibe he seems to simmer with. But it’s rather rocky up this side of the woodland, he’ll admit that much. “Sure. I don’t mind comin’ to the dog shelter sometime this week, if you’re really serious about getting a dog. Big commitment though.” Though, people seem to say that and don’t really acknowledge the commitment kids are, either. So many people jump at the thought of children, but don’t really realise a dog is kind of the same thing, only the one that skitters around on four legs doesn’t have quite a long life as the thing that toddles around on two. But enough about kids --- Robert diverts his thoughts back onto the Dover Ghost.

              “I’m hoping if we don’t get anything on camera, we might get something on the EVP.” Though he’s waiting for someone to accuse it of being interference of some sort --- but they’re out in the middle of the woods. What kind of interference are they going to get out here? “I haven’t got a spare, so heres to hopin’ it doesn’t cut out on us.”

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pcindre:

   It wasn’t that she’d exactly run from Oscorp. It was more that she’d taken an extended vacation because she needed away from that place… for who knew how long. Things had gotten better. She’d gotten the company running, gotten it somewhere she felt comfortable letting it run itself for a little while. She’d gotten it to a point that she didn’t feel the need to be quite so hands on with the place.Felicia Hardy needed space from New York and the only way to do it was to pick up and move her life to what seemed like the middle of nowhere. Where no one would know her name. Where no one would recognize her as slender digits wrapped around a glass of whiskey and downed it in nearly one gulp. No one would recognize her to call her out and remind her that she had to be in the office in the morning. There was no office. Not anymore. There was a two story house all to herself. Complete with an ocean side balcony view that she’d already fallen in love with. A view that she just wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave permanently and she’d only been in love with it for a week.

   Felicia Hardy had fallen in love with Maple Bay and she wasn’t sure she wanted to fall out. This was quickly becoming home. No ghosts, no memories, no reminders. A fresh start. It was everything she needed.

   And Jim & Kim’s? She could easily become a regular… had every intention of becoming a regular. She had every intention of inserting herself into Maple Bay and making it somewhere she felt safe. It was already working. One night at the bar and she was already catching eyes… and, yet… she didn’t feel nervous about a damn bit of it.

   A hightop table had never been her thing. She’d always been a bar girl… and she’d made it a point to migrate the moment her first glass was done. Green eyes glanced over to the stranger, lips pulling into a grin as she slid an empty glass across the bar, tapping lightly to signal for a second before she shifted to give the man her attention. “You wouldn’t have seen me before… first visit and all.” There’s a soft laugh as she pulls her now full glass towards her and delicate lips settle as she takes a long, slow swig of jack daniels before turning her attention back to the man. “Or something… Considering it an extended vacation. Though, one week in and I’m not sure I could ever leave this place.”

                “THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY.” Even him.  He recalls his own, blind stumble upon the jewel of a community hidden in central Polk County;  Robert had been on the road, searching for himself...or least, the remains of the man he called himself. Maple Bay had proven to hold host to everything he could ever possibly want; peace & quiet, neighbours that didn’t shove their noses into other people’s business, plenty of bar spots and drinking places to coop himself up in during the late hours of the night, and more than enough places to trek through, in search of the unknown.  It’s a lot different compared to the place he had raised his daughter & lived alongside his late wife. Arguably there’s more freedom here to explore the parts of him he’d kept tucked away like a book on a shelf when Val had been born --- the cryptid hunting, for example. But it’s lonely. Very lonely.

              “I was just driving through myself a couple years back. But there’s something about this place. Draws you in. It’s a good town, with good people.” He brings the rim of his glass to his lips, drains the contents of his shot in one swift upward sweep of the arm. The tumbler clinks on the counter as he settles it down, ordering yet another. It might looks shocking to a stranger how quickly he goes through his whiskey, but Robert could do this all night; he’s developed a pretty good alcohol tolerance by now. “Good drink, too. You picked the best bar in town. Nothin’ beats Jim & Kim’s. Though uh, don’t let the name fool you. It’s actually ran by Neil.”

              Vision flickers to make eye contact with the owner & bar tender, corners of his lips lifting just a fraction in a smile. “He’s a great guy, Neil. Not enough Neil’s in the world.” Gaze turns back to the brunette, Robert wetting his lips with his tongue briefly, before he asks Neil to bring a bottle over for himself and the young woman to share. “The name’s Robert. You are?”

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regretfulmom:

             AT THAT, SHE COULDN’T HELP BUT SMILE. Truth be told, she’d always found Joseph’s painfully-suburban way of dressing to be endearing. She understood how many found it cute; fed into the picket-fence-perfection con perfectly. Oh… that would imply that her husband is a con artist, wouldn’t it? Then again, she enjoys tempering a wet baptism with her dry sarcasm. Double ententes abound. At the sight of the bottle, she couldn’t help but smile. Robert knew her. Truth was, he did better than anyone and it always seemed to be downright intuitive. Between them it was a language of subtle expressions, invisible gestures– the little things– that made them work so well. Such as the second she could hear the curdling of Robert’s marrow.

             “What’s that look for? Don’t like the new daddy?” Her tone is wry rather than judgmental. “He might be clueless, but at least he’s kind enough to buy a lady a drink when she asks.”

             That’s what Robert had done the first time they saw each other after the whole “sorry I fucked your husband” conversation on her doorstep that is. He had bought her a drink they spent the first ten minutes having a deadpan conversation, simply attempting to out-bullshit one another. When they couldn’t help but smile, she knew she had one person in Maple Bay that finally kept up with her wit and dished it back to her in equal measure. She treasured her time with him ever since. “And if it weren’t for you and him picking on middle-schoolers the other day, what would we be doing now? Looking for bigfoot again?”

              “HE’S ALRIGHT. NOT THAT GOOD OF COMPANY.” A lie, smoothly painted over with a flick of the wrist to unscrew the bottle and fill up his own glass, and he makes to do the same with hers --- the newest addition to Maple Bay’s list of eligible bachelors had surprised Robert the other evening with their sense of spark; it had been unexpected, to say the least... but that still doesn’t mean he can’t be angry at their obvious heart-eyes for Mary’s husband. Even if they had thrown a rock at a stop sign and tip-toed into the movies illegally with him. At the mention of Bigfoot, however, He turns his head to shoot her a look: and the genuine smile on his face says it all.

              “Thank you for reminding me. We were so close LAST TIME,” He’s teasing of course, leans in closer as he makes to swig at his drink, “that just the thought of searching for that big fella with ANYONE ELSE makes my heart positively bleed.” He’s got something else on his mind though, rather than spending the evening strolling through thick grass and an endless stretch of trees till one thirty in the morning, on a wild, desperate, drunk hunt for Bigfoot. Searching for Maple Bay cryptids with your best friend is one of life’s little pleasures ( so long as it’s not the fucking Mothman ), but he figures this night, they need to do something different, just the two of them. “I have a couple ideas up my sleeve. You won’t be third wheel.” He winks. “Cross my heart.”

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—  @archerwhiterp​. ❜

            “YOU’RE THE GUY WHO JUST moved into the cul-de-sac, right?” Not that Robert’s been keeping a close eye on the newcomer or anything, but he’d spied the removal van and everything while he was out of the house this morning, busy getting a cup of coffee to try and aid the whole crashing from lack of sleep scenario. Yet here is he is, out late again, and he probably won’t crawl into bed ‘till the early hours of the morning. Such is life. Some habits are just so deeply ingrained into the system, they’re impossible to kick. Picking up his glass, leather-boot-clad feet carry Small over and a slow stroll to drop himself into the seat next to Archer, bringing the rim of the tumbler to his lips and swigging.

          “Thought I saw you in Matt’s place this morning.” Not alone --- he was with a girl, but Robert assumes she’s his daughter --- though he doesn’t really dwell too long on that concept. Makes something flare up inside of him, the burn of bad memories. Leaves a putrid taste on the tongue, like venom. He downs some more whiskey to try and fight the fire with another sort of flame. “Just a brief glimpse, though I could be wrong. Could’ve been someone else.”

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— @beautyveined. ❜

              “BETSY. BETSY!! BETSY, COME AWAY FROM THERE.” Goddamn, that dog. As much as she fills Robert’s heart with a sense of love & pride, the adorable, clumsy ball of black and white fuzz that she is, he can’t help but wish the Boston Terrier didn’t have such a vast energy expansion pack ---- it’s like the damn thing’s running on triple A batteries, zipping here there and everywhere, sometimes tripping over her own legs. She’s only small, but without a doubt, what she lacks in size she sure as hell makes up for in speed. When he finally catches up with the brown-eyed menace pestering some poor young woman sat on a bench, front legs up on the wooden seat, little rump wagging violently & tongue lolling from her mouth, Robert bends to gather her up in his arms, scolds her for running half way across the park without him. 

              “Betsy! That damn ice-cream isn’t for you, silly girl.” Still he can’t blame the dog for having a sweet tooth; dare he say, she may just have got that from him. “Sorry,” Umber eyes flicker from the dog’s features onto the girl’s, offering a slight, apologetic smile. “She’s uh, all too eager to make friends, it seems.” A vast contrast to him; he’s the whiskey smelling shadow of Maple Bay, clad in mystery; nobody knows much about him, where he came from, what his story is. And that’s just the way he LIKES things. This in itself, a daylight appearance of him, is a rarity. He usually spends his time cooped up indoors --- but Betsy needs the exercise. 

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solucius:

               HE HAS TO STOP HIMSELF from answering immediately when Robert asked if he wanted anything to drink. The response on the tip of his tongue was a firm ‘NO’, only stifled due to how much force would have been put behind it. He doesn’t want to drink, he doesn’t want anything to eat. He doesn’t even want to take off any of his clothes to help him beat the summer temperature – though the thought of them having one less layer between them isn’t too bad. Still, he is quiet for a moment as if he pretends to think, wanting what they have to linger on for a while longer. If time could stop and he could freeze this moment, Lucius wouldn’t be able to complain. Not with Robert there with him. No better partner exists for him.

              A hum escapes as the man’s arms wrap tighter around him, shifting slightly so the position is easier before pressing a kiss to his neck. His own hands caress lightly at Robert’s hips before his arms once more hang loose and Lucius lets himself almost go limp. “I think I’m good for now.” No reason for them to separate. Another kiss is pressed to his neck before he breathes a sigh against it. Content, happy. “Can’t say it’s not a mixture of both. If I wasn’t so comfortable right here, I’d suggest we grab a shower together.”

                “HMMM... YOU’RE GIVIN’ ME IDEAS.” Lethargic laughter filters from the back of his throat; he feels his lips twitch into a wide smile, calloused hands roaming across Lucius’ back, rubbing over his spine gently, Robert tilting his head in order to nuzzle his nose against the other man’s hair. “Maybe in a little bit,” He finds himself murmuring, “This is... nice.” Too good for him to want to budge a single muscle. This is a rarity in itself; the closeness, the peace and quiet, a sense of tranquillity; a lack of  real noise bar the chirping of birds and the light breeze rustling through leaves dappling sunlight. No crowds of people to avoid or grunt a response to --- as much as Robert can respect Joseph enough to attend the barbecues he hosts, he’d sooner be in favour for something like this any day. Just spending some good old fashioned lazy time with the person he cares most about. 

                   He’s quiet for a little while. Says nothing, only listens to the sounds of the garden and the rest of the cul-de-sac. Faintly on the wind he can hear typical park sounds: he wonders if their neighbours, the likes of Brian and Daisy or Mary and her brood, have gone for an walk through the park and a play on all that apparatus. Certainly sounds that way, soft as it is. Robert sighs, content, one palm coming to rest on the small of Lucius’ back. “When’s Amanda due home?” His question breaks the silence, but he’s genuinely curious; a part of him misses the days when Val was younger, when they were closer. Perhaps a little bit of him envies what Lucius has with his child, but not in a bad way, he’s not eaten up with jealousy. If anything, everything about being with him, each second, is inspiring him to better himself.

[regretmade-blog]

when ur dash is nothing but @pcindre