#As for his charred leg? Let's just say it was put to good use | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obscuraimagines · 3 months ago

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i NEED more for kodiak PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏 I DONT CARE WHAT IT IS I JUST NEED IT 😭😭

A/N: Thank you so much for this wildcard, Anon! I'm working on another request (which should be out in a couple of days) and this was really helpful in letting me get some plot stuff out of the way first. I really hope you enjoy!

Bite Me - Part Three

Summary: It's getting harder to keep your secret relationship secret. Mainly because Kodiak can't keep his hands to himself.

Content: Secret relationship, fear of getting found out, age difference (reader is over 18)

Part One

Part Two

You wake the next morning, reaching into the still-warm, empty space beside you. Kodiak is already gone, although you can hear him moving around outside, his voice cutting over the quieter voices of your friends. You try not to feel hurt: it was your idea to keep whatever was going on between you from the others. You wish he’d woken you before he left.

You dress in a hurry, then wait until the others are distracted before slipping out. Everyone’s sore, worn down and irritable from hiking through most of the previous day and the night before. The day starts off badly. Kodiak berates Mari for falling asleep on guard duty, Natalie stands up for her and it turns into a blistering argument. By the time you set off, everyone’s on edge. You pick your way down the mountainside and there’s a brief ripple of something – hope? Alarm? – when you find the remnants of a campsite: flattened grass, the charred remnants of a fire. Natalie crouches to poke at a piece of charcoal, crushing it between her fingers. There are dark shadows under her eyes, plenty of shadows inside them too. She moves like the rest of you: slow and clumsy like a sleepwalker, with bursts of jerky staccato movement when startled. You all startle a lot: every bird call becomes a coded hunting cry, every rustle of wind in the branches becomes a hunter stalking you. You keep seeing shapes between the trees which aren’t there when you look back.

“This is recent. A few days maybe.”

You all exchange worried glances. It’s bad enough, only having Kodiak’s word that he’ll keep your secrets. If there are more people out here they’re an unknown quantity: even one stranger could tip the balance.

“More like a week,” Kodiak catches up to you, Travis and Akilah trailing him. “Ask me how I know.”

You startle and then feel stupid because of course it’s his campsite. Natalie straightens, flushing angrily. It’s not like her to make mistakes but you’re all wound tight, bracing yourself for the worst, whether it’s a wolf attack or Shauna’s retribution.

“This is where we would have camped last night if you’d all been able to keep pace,” Kodiak adds, unhelpfully. The others bristle in Nat’s defence making you nervous. Last time you all found one person to focus your frustrations on, that person ended up dying badly. You suspect, if it comes to that, Kodiak will take a few of you down with him.

“You’re the one who wanted to hike for nearly twenty hours.” Nat bites the words out. Her voice drops low and gravelly towards the end and the others get still, the way animals hide when they sense a storm coming. Nat’s accent only comes into play when she’s right on the edge, clinging onto her temper with her fingernails. Travis moves to flank her: he isn’t exactly aiming the crossbow yet but he’s holding it in a pointed kind of way, as though that could change quickly.

“My bad,” Kodiak says, looking unconcerned. “Here I thought it’d be good to put some distance between us and the cannibals – sorry, the other cannibals – before we slept. Maybe for you lot, waking up with someone gnawing on your leg is no big deal. I mean, it’s not like you’re the one who’s going to die if they catch up to us–”

You feel the air turn thick. There are a lot of things you’re all so careful not to say out here and Kodiak seems to delight in saying them, testing things until they break. He doesn’t understand yet how ugly things can get and how quickly things can tip over. You need to shut him up before someone else does.

“We’re all going to die if they catch up to us.” You step between him and Nat: at this point, you’re not sure which one of them you’re shielding. “You’re lucky Shauna doesn’t care about you: she might even kill you quickly. The rest of us will suffer.”

The corner of Kodiak’s mouth quirks up, halfway to a smile. His focus is solely on you now, eyes darkening with interest. You feel breathless, remembering last night.

“Great pep talk,” he tells you drily. “Hey, if soccer doesn’t work out, you could give the cheer squad a try. I hear the uniforms are better.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners a little and you can tell he’s daring you to start something, setting you off just to see what you’ll do.

“None of us slept very well last night.” You keep your voice reasonable, placating: your friends standing behind you probably think you’re playing peacemaker. You fix Kodiak with your most don’t–fuck–with–me glare and rub your shoulder, hooking the collar of your shirt out of the way with your thumb to let him glimpse the lovebite you’ve been carefully keeping hidden. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You’re running on adrenaline, not even sure what you’re threatening him with, or whether you’re threatening him at all. You’ve tried to impress on him how badly things could go for him if the others turn on him, but you’re not sure he takes you seriously. You realise as you’re speaking that he’s more likely to take the gesture as a bribe, an offer of more of the same. “Everyone’s tense. Let’s not make things worse than they need to be.”

Kodiak grins, wolfishly, all teeth. He steps forwards, getting right in your face. “Is that right?”

For a moment, you think he might actually call your bluff and start something, right then and there.

“Do. Not. Fucking. Test. Me,” you tell him in a low voice.

Kodiak reaches out to brush your hair off your shoulder. You pull away, guiltily, afraid of what it’ll look like to the others, not realising that you practically recoiling from him looks worse. You hear Nat snarl and start forwards behind you, accompanied by Travis’s “hey, what the fuck–”

“You had a spider.” Kodiak pretends to brush something off your shoulder and raises his hands in innocent mock surrender. “You’re right: everyone is tense.”

Kodiak shifts his weight a little so he’s looming over you. You square your shoulders, refusing to step back. He gives you a calculating look, grins. “Better save our energy for later.”

He strolls off, knowing that you have no choice but to follow him.

“Are you okay?” Akilah asks once he’s out of earshot. “You look kind of um…”

You don’t want to think about what you look like right now.

“He is such a fucking asshole,” Mari complains, slipping her arm through yours. “Remind me why we brought him?”

“He’s the only one who knows the way, Mar,” Akilah reminds her.

“Ugh.” Mari turns to you. “He totally has it out for both of us.”

You tense. “He’s barely spoken to me.”

“No, he just weirdly stares at you. Like a lot.”

“You didn’t notice?” Akilah asks, her brow creased in concern.

“No, I mean…” you stammer.

“Maybe he likes her.” Misty chirps at your elbow.

“Ohmygod Misty.” Mari’s voice is heavy with disgust. “Stop projecting your weird old man fetish onto the rest of us.”

None of you really want to think about Ben, so mercifully the subject drops. You walk in silence, barely listening to them. Your thoughts draw back to Kodiak. You think part of him likes it, when you challenge him. You’re also sure he’s going to make you pay for it later.

A little after noon, you hit the next roadblock. Kodiak stands looking out over an uneven expanse of rock. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that he’s frustrated.

“Rockslide took the trail with it,” he tells your group tersely when you catch up to him. “We’ll have to backtrack, cut through the valley and up the other side.”

Nat surveys the rocky scree. You guess she’s thinking the same thing you are: you might make it but the ground will be treacherous and none of you have decent shoes.

“We’ll lose a lot of height,” she comments. Going uphill is a long, difficult slog and losing altitude seems like a waste.

Kodiak shrugs. “That’s why the trail was up here. Emphasis on was.”

Natalie glances at the green valley below you. This high up, you’re looking down onto treetops.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Everywhere out here is dangerous.” Kodiak rolls his eyes. You bristle at that: as thought Nat – as though any of you – needs to be told the Wilderness isn’t safe. “Especially places I haven’t been before.” He hooks his thumbs into his belt, casts a glance back the way you’ve come. “Still better than what’s behind us.”

None of you have much choice except to turn back. Covering the same ground twice is dispiriting but at least you’re walking downhill this time. It’s unseasonably hot for September and mostly people walk in irritable silence. Everything starts to look the same: you’re starting to wonder if you’ve veered off course when you see a stream you passed earlier, falling like a bead curtain over a rocky outcrop and pooling into a natural basin. Kodiak takes pity on your group because he lets you stop to drink and soak your feet. Some of the others strip off their outer layers, soaking them in the water, wringing them and letting the damp fabric cool them down. You wish you could join them. There’s a natural cave behind it and you wander into the cool dark. It doesn’t look like much from the outside but it goes back further than you’d think.

“Not joining the wet tshirt contest, huh?”

You hadn’t heard Kodiak approach.

“I might if someone hadn’t left a mark,” you tell him irritably.

“Hey, you started it.” He indicates the spot on his shoulder where you bit him. There’s a faint crescent shaped smear of blood on his shirt. You hope the others haven’t noticed. Bloodstains are unremarkable out here. “At least I was nice about mine.”

“Speaking of nice,” you say, rounding on him. “Do you think you can ease up on the others for five fucking seconds?”

He catches your wrist. “I mean, if you want to improve my mood…”

You jerk your arm free. The rocks are slick underfoot and you almost fall. Kodiak steadies you and doesn’t let go, one hand on your elbow, the other resting on your hip.

You glance towards the cave entrance. So far the others haven’t seen you.

“Oh so that wasn’t blackmail before?” Kodiak asks, his tone deceptively pleasant. “I can never tell with you: are you flirting or just making threats.”

You scowl at him. “You’re one to talk. Which is this?”

He smiles and lets go of your arm so he can trace your jawline with a fingertip, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to face him. His other hand lingers possessively on your hip, one thumb hooked into your belt loop. “See that’s the thing. I think you like it better when it’s both.”

The mortifying thing is, he’s not wrong. You could push him off you but you’re afraid he’ll let you go.

“I don’t think you actually want to be rescued,” he continues. You’re too taken aback to stutter out a protest. Kodiak steps into your space, pushing you with him until your back hits the cool stone behind you and you’re caged in his arms. “I think you’ve been out here so long, danger’s started to feel like home. I think you want more.”

“I know what we’ve been through is some giant fucking joke to you,” you retort. You realise you’re being way too loud and drop your voice into a furious hiss. The worst part is, on some level he’s right; there is no going back to how things were. Either you’re going to die or you’re going to have to live with the knowledge of what you’ve done. “None of us asked for this. I didn’t– I should be a sophomore in college by now.” It’s getting harder to speak coherently. You dig your nails into your arm, willing yourself to keep it together. “I want to go home, okay? I want to be normal.”

You break off, hating the plaintive note in your voice.

Kodiak scoffs. “We both know you’re a long way past normal.” He shakes his head slightly, studying you, like you’ve disappointed him somehow. You hate how much it stings. “Trust me. Civilisation’s going to bore you to tears.”

“You are such a fucking asshole!” you snap, forgetting to be quiet. You wrench free from his grip and shove him. You have no hope of overpowering him but he takes a step backwards; his expression is amused, humouring you even as you storm off.

“What happened?” Akilah asks, as you nearly knock her and Mari over.

“Nothing! Sorry!” You don’t look round, you just keep heading for the treeline as fast as you can without breaking into a run. You don’t really want to be around the others right now either. You’re all gambling your lives on Kodiak’s ability to guide you safely through the Wilderness: maybe if they’d known his real motivation they wouldn’t have come. Maybe you’ve just put them in worse danger. “I just need to stretch my legs a minute.”

“Um, we’ve literally been walking all day?” Mari calls after you.

You don’t get far – between the hike and rationing what little food you brought, you don’t have the stamina. It’s probably not a good idea to go out of earshot of the others. You just needed to get away for a minute. At some point during winter you reconciled yourself with the fact you were going to die out here and all the fear and rage and longing kind of froze over inside you. Now because of him they’re thawing. It hurts.

You take a few minutes to calm down, before you head back. The trees are so thick it’s easy to feel like you’re the only person here. They also, apparently, make it very easy for someone who knows how to be quiet to sneak up on you.

“You can stay mad if you want,” Kodiak tells you, grabbing your arm as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt again. “Whatever: it’s cute. But you do not just run off.”

You try to jerk away but he’s too fast: he catches you around the middle and shoves you into a tree trunk so he can keep you pinned. It’s covered in moss so thick it’s like sinking into shaggy green fur. For all you know, nobody else has ever been here. The two of you could be the first people ever to see this tree. Maybe the last too.

“You realise there could be wolves out here?” He shakes you a little for emphasis and you realise you might actually have scared him a little.

“Whatever.” You try to wrench free. It doesn’t work: he’s too strong and too pissed to let you. You settle for glaring at him instead. “We’ve faced wolves before.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

You’re hit with the memory of teeth; of half of Van’s face hanging off; of holding her down while the others sewed it up, your hands so slippery with blood you could hardly keep your grip, your sobs blending with her screams.

“I thought I was addicted to danger?” you spit back at him. “What do you care?”

You shove as hard as you can and manage to almost stagger him. Almost.

“Drop the teenage bullshit.” Kodiak leans down to snarl directly into your face. “You made yourself my problem when you begged me to get you off this mountain. You don’t get to complain about how I do it.”

Everything is so dangerous out here – even more now you’ve fled your makeshift village – that you forget he’s dangerous too. You’d bested him before but only because your teammates had him outnumbered. Out here it’s just you and him.

You know the sensible thing to do would be to apologise, quietly go back with him, and keep giving him whatever he wants once the others are asleep. But you’re not ready to swallow your pride just yet, so you do what you did last time he was threatening you and drag him down into a kiss.

There’s no hesitation this time. Kodiak grabs a handful of your shirt and pulls you up onto your tiptoes, so hard the worn fabric rips. You try to pull away, knowing you’ll have to explain it later, but he follows you backwards, slamming you back into the tree trunk. You gasp at the impact, leaving your mouth open for him to deepen the kiss. Kodiak slides his hands under your thighs, lifting you so you’re on a level with him and using his bodyweight to keep you pinned in place. You feel a thrill at how easily he moves you, somewhere between fear and desire.

“You going to do this every time you lose a fight?” He speaks the words almost into your mouth, his voice rough. His breathing is fast but nowhere near as ragged as your own. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer him before he kisses you again.

You hadn’t planned beyond distracting him. His thigh is planted between yours; your bodyweight presses the seam of your jeans into you. The friction makes it hard to think coherently. His hands are in your hair, running over your body, touching you to prove he can – whether he’s proving it to himself or to you you’re not sure. It’s rough, unrelenting. You don’t want him to stop.

You wrap a leg around his for leverage, pressing your calf against the back of his knee to stagger him, so he lurches into you, your bodies pressed close together. You rake a hand through his hair and pull a little to remind him you’re still mad at him. He groans low into your mouth, the muffled sound reverberating through his body and into yours. The sound utterly undoes you. Kodiak slides a hand under your torn shirt, to your breast. You bite down on a whimper, afraid the others will hear.

Shit! You forgot about the others. The thought is like being doused in freezing water. You turn your head to break the kiss and Kodiak follows you, forcing you to twist away from him until your cheek is pressed flat against the moss covered bark.

“Wait. We’ve been gone too long.”

Kodiak goes in to press a kiss to your lips, feathering more across your jaw. “I’m starting to think you get off on sneaking around.”

You push him away regretfully. You try to recover some of the annoyance you felt before.

“Oh sure. I love hiking in layers to cover the marks you left, trying to pretend I’m not sore from last night…”

The way Kodiak smirks, you’re pretty sure he took that as a compliment. You plant your hands on his chest and try to push him.

“Seriously. Let me go.” You do your best to sound angry.

“Well you weren’t complaining at the time.” He grabs your wrists and pins them either side of your head. He leans in to kiss you. You use the last of your self control to turn your face away. He settles for talking directly into your ear instead. His beard is rough against your cheek. “And we both know I could have been a lot rougher.”

His voice is heavy with promise. Despite yourself, you turn to face him.

“And I mean, last night: you did kind of owe me,” he tells you. His voice is rough too: low and intimate against your ear. You feel a guilty thrill go through you.

There’s a metallic click. You’d know it anywhere: the sound of the rifle’s safety being switched off. You turn and face the absolutely worst person who could be pointing a gun at you right now.

“What the fuck do you mean she owes you?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed it please tell me: it's what keeps me going. I'm working on two more request fills, which should be out shortly. To everyone who sent in a request: thank you for being patient I will get to it. To everyone else, requests are still open but it may take a while.

[Edited 10th June '25]

#kodiak yellowjackets #kodiak x reader #yellowjackets #joel mchale #yellowjackets fanfic #joel mchale x reader #reader insert #x reader #female reader #yellowjackets fic #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets season 3 #kodiak yj #kodiak #yellowjackets spoilers #kodi yellowjackets #kodiak smut

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moistcl1tikal-ao3 · 2 months ago

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ok but like. lil bro waking up from a wet dream and you just not letting him get up until he pisses himself either sorry im not well i just really want charlie to be a lil mess next to me??!!

THATS WHAT IM FUCKING SAYING

like when I tell you I could have made this tweet I could have. like. i love when boys get desperate and bounce around and make little moaning noises until they can't hold it anymore and wet themselves and then BONUS POINTS they're so embarrassed that they're hard about it

goddd imagine this in fuckleweekverse.... you're sleeping together in his bed, his arms around you, your ass backed up nicely against his crotch, good shit, y'know?

he wakes up, realizes he's half hard, and almost bugs you.... realizes you're asleep, doesn't. until the feeling of his full, tight bladder hits him and he starts bugging you to get up. you don't realize why he's bugging you and grumble to him in annoyance, turning around in his arms and throwing a leg over his hips. you roll, pushing yourself up just enough to force him down onto his back and lay on his chest. you can hear him whimper as the pressure starts to mount but again, you don't realize the torture you're putting him through. not when you can feel him half hard against you in the thin sleep pants he's wearing, the tiny crotch of your shorts easy to push to the side so your bare cunt can grind against him.

"Wait—" he mumbles, bringing his arms up to try and push you away. "I gotta get up."

"No," you grumble back, grabbing at his hands as they try to get at your shoulders, "you woke me up for your stupid boner and you're gonna like what you get, and then I'm going back to sleep."

"N— no it's not even for that, I just really have to—"

"Yeah, dumbass, blue balls are uncomfortable, wet dreams are weird, relax. Just let me help you out so we can sleep again."

"No— sis I gotta—"

you forced Charlie's hands down against the mattress and picked up your pace. as he got harder, the feeling grew slightly less urgent, taken over by the blood flow and the ache of his cock against the soft fabric of his pajamas pants and your cunt dragging across them. once the wetness started to seep through, though, he felt a pang in his hips. it was going to be a goddamned photo finish to the bathroom at this rate. thinking about having to pee made everything so much worse, but he couldn't stop thinking about it once the feeling settled into his hips.

high pitched whines fluttered in Charlie's throat as he ground up against you, the pressure of your pussy pushing the tip of his dick against his stomach one of the only faint pressures he could rely on to hold back. it didn't work for long though, as he felt another pang of need in his bladder, charlie lost control momentarily. he let out a tiny leak, body going deathly still as his face burned and tears sprung to his eyes.

"stop— stop i have to get up, I'm gonna pee—" charlie gasped out, his legs shaking under you.

something deep in your own stomach purred at the idea, and your sharklike grin sent a chill down his spine.

"nah, i don't really feel like it. i wanna cum too, y'know." you had temporarily paused at his gasp but started to move again, rocking against your little brother's damp sweatpants rhythmically.

"please, oh god, stop, stop—" he struggled against your hands, the strength he would have used completely gone from how little he could wiggle without losing control. he pushed back your hands a few inches but another leak soaked his crotch and he froze, letting you push his wrists back down.

"oh? you wanna get up?" you purred, feeling your cunt get wetter from both your own arousal and his shame leaking through his pants. "c'mon, char, just cum for me and we'll be all done, and ill let you up to go pee."

your head dropped to your chest as you rocked against his stiff cock, the texture of the fabric a perfect friction against your puffy pussy. Charlie's whimpers only got louder as you dragged your cunt against him, making you bite your lip to hold your own back. tears pricked at his eyes as he tried to hold back, but his sleepy mind couldn't focus on anything but the pleasure.

until it wasn't pleasure anymore. the feeling bubbled in his hips, and he realized it was too late after the damage had already begun. charlie whines out against you as he leaks again, and this time, the rush of pressure being relieved is too much for him. it's pure pleasure, and he can't stop rutting against you, leaking out spurt after spurt of hot piss into his pajama pants. he's crying, overwhelmed and embarrassed and shaking...

and it's the best thing you've ever fucking seen.

"there we go, there's a good boy. just let it all out, there we go. that's right." the heat is nothing like you've ever felt and you sit up just enough that your stomach won't catch too much of the flood. as charlie humps into you, the stream keeps going. wow, he really did have to go. eventually it peters out and he's left sniffling below you, face burning, laying in his own puddle of filth. he's rock hard beneath you still, and the orgasm you crave is so, so close. you release one of his hands and it just stays there. he's broken.

you peel back the soaked fabric of his pants, line up his cock with your achingly empty hole, and sit back on it.

one orgasm won't be enough, you can feel it. good thing he doesn't have to get up and go anymore, right?

#mamas words of wisdom #anon ask #asked and answered #charlie slimecicle imagine #charlie slimesicle x reader #charlie slimecicle fanfiction #charlie slimecicle smut #omorashi #sibcon #sibcest #fuckleweekverse #moistcl1tikal

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stargirllt · 5 months ago

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unwind

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

fem!reader, sub!charlie, slight angst, fluff, smut

When you hear the door to your apartment open, knowing it was your boyfriend, the last thing you expected was an attitude. Charlie was usually kind to you, especially after being on a trip without you for two weeks. This, however, was different.

The moment he walked into the house, he was pissy. "Hey Char!" You run up to hug him, but he shrugs you off, grunting in reply.

"I know you're upset, Charlie. Do you wanna talk about your trip?"

"Dude, no. I obviously don't, can't you take a hint?" he speaks and then looks slightly surprised, as if someone else said it.

you sigh and somehow convince yourself not to lash out, "Alright, man. I'm gonna go take a bath, you get settled in, I guess." you speed walk into your bedroom.

While you get your clothes for after your bath ready, you think about what he said. I'm an adult, I can use context clues. Something probably happened that pissed him off and he's taking it out on me because I crashed his pity party. The irrational part of me, however, says that he's fallen out of love with me. I must of done something to make him hate me. It's then that you realize you're just staring into a full drawer without moving.

You quickly grab your things and enter the bathroom, avoiding Charlie. You start your bath and try not to think about him.

The moment you're finally settled and comfortable, a knock sounds on the bathroom door. A small but masculine voice follows,

"Hey honey, can I come in?"

You sigh.

"fine,"

The door opens and he steps in, looking shameful.

"can we talk?"

"if thats what you came in here for, then fine. close the door please."

The door closes and he sits up on the counter, avoiding eye contact.

"well?"

"I-" a sigh escapes his lips, "I'm sorry, y/n. I know I messed up and you have no reason to forgive me, but i really miss you. I was taking out my frustrations on you."

"I forgive you, Charlie. I just want you to be here with me. It sucks that after two weeks apart, we couldn't connect emotionally despite being with each other physically." you speak, no longer angry, instead just relieved to have your boyfriend back.

"can i join you?" his voice is nervous, shaking almost.

"of course baby"

You scoot forward in the tub so he can lay behind you. While you wait for him to finish undressing, you can't help but think about how long it's been since you've been together intimately. Two weeks was a lot for you and Charlie.

"hey char?"

"hm?"

"i have an idea. i forgive you, but ill only let you sleep in our bed tonight if you can make me cum on your tongue."

"o-oh, yeah okay."

"you can relax for now sweetheart. just know whats coming"

"yes ma'am."

"come here, char"

you motion for him to come sit with you and he does. a few minutes pass and you lay back onto him.

"i love you char"

"i love you too y/n"

about half an hour later, both of you are stepping out of the bathtub and getting ready. when you're about to put your shirt on, he stops you.

"don't, please"

"oh?"

"bedroom, please," he whines. He hasn't whined in months. You can't help but think about how much you've missed this.

"lead the way, sweet boy"

Immediately, he grabs your hand and drags you into your bedroom. you sit down on the bed and watch him sink down onto his knees. he remembered, what a good boy.

"come on, baby," you spread your legs so he can get better access. "unless you don't want to.."

"no! no, please i want to. can i touch you?"

"yes, baby. you can touch me"

he takes two fingers to your folds, slowly running his fingertips up and down. suddenly he stands up and lays down on the bed.

"sit on my face please"

you crawl on top of him, "you ready?"

he nods and you sit down, hovering slightly. he puts his hands on your thighs, pulling your full weight onto his face. unsurprisingly, he laps at your pussy like a madman, his nose nudging your clit perfectly.

"oh god, char, so good at this. such a good boy f'me" your words start to slur at the intense pleasure.

letting your head fall back, you notice him bucking his hips up into the air.

"what a needy boy, can't even wait 10 minutes before you're humping the air?"

he whines into your open pussy, causing vibrations. these vibrations make you grind further down onto his face, making him whine again. a wonderful, never-ending circle.

you feel the knot in your stomach tighten and you grind faster.

"such a good boy f'me, Charlie. im so close"

he somehow manages to go faster, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"oh fuck Charlie im cumming!"

you moan out loudly and let Charlie overstimulate you for a bit before pulling off of him and sitting next to where he lays.

"did such a good job, baby. you ready for it to be your turn?"

"no, as much as i would love that, it definitely has to wait until tomorrow. i uh, i came in my boxers when you were riding my face."

"oh baby, im gonna go get a rag to clean both of us up. i'll be right back."

you stand up and go to the bathroom. a few minutes later you come back with a wet rag. you wipe his face first.

"you've gotta take off your boxers babe, or i could do it?"

"no i can get it" he slips his soiled underwear down his legs, off his body, and tosses them into the laundry basket.

"you're probably still sensitive so i'll be gentle, but you should be aware." you wipe down his hips and soft cock. you take the rag and toss it into the laundry basket before climbing back into bed next to him.

"i really did miss you, by the way" you speak while cuddling into his chest.

"i missed you too, sorry i acted like i didn't"

"i forgive you"

we sit in a comfortable silence for a bit until he breaks it.

"i love you y/n y/l/n"

"i love you Charlie Dalgleish"

#charlie slimesicle x reader #sub charlie slimecicle #charlie slimecicle smut #charlie slimecicle fluff

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affableramen · 1 year ago

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Very h*rny headcanons on Genshin chars Prt 2

Tags: 18+ pleeeeease, reader gender not specified, (well, only in the end abt pregnancy)

Chars: Dr. Snek 🐍

• Baizhu can’t take you rough. He just can’t. You need to assist him in that. In fact, he loves when you guide him, wrapping your legs around his waist and teasingly rubbing your crotch against his. You love seeing him lose control, but to get there you gotta put lots, lots of effort. Baizhu won’t take you roughly until he is filled with horniness to the brim. He needs to be extra hot in order to fulfill this naughty wish of yours. To help him out and encourage him, you might rub him from behind while he sits at his desk, or you might go to the length of sucking him beneath it. Baizhu is quite sensitive to oral, so if you want him to really punish you, start from making a mess out of him instead. You will get what you deserve.

• Doctor likes to be ridden. Missionary is his number one, but oh, archons— the way your hips grind against him drives him insane. He can experience dry orgasm just by you humping him, and both of you will be satisfied.

• He is very embarrassed by this little whim of his, however he likes when you hand him during work. He makes sure Qiqi doesn’t guess a thing. But the way you’d hide beneath his desk and “play” with his pantysnake brings him so much satisfaction that his face goes red. He will probably never let you know, but he dreams of being touched by you during his working hours even if it is so inappropriate. Well, rules are made to be broken.

• Unlike Pantalone who doesn’t trust anyone to the fullest, even his s/o, Baizhu is ready to shift control into your hands. He adores to be taken by you, cause he knows you will impress his ass. He will guide and comment but mostly what you’ll hear from him are soft sighs, quiet whimpers and lots of “…Yes, right there… you’re so good at this.”

• Sometimes Baizhu has an “evil” side and something about you makes him tick. Naturally, he is in for kinky stuff. He will quietly chuckle “…Let it be a secret, darling. Don’t ruin my masterpiece” while he is tying you up thoroughly. He goes to his cupboard and grabs a bottle of finest warming lube, to provide you with unforgettable 40 minutes fingering / handjob, edging and keeping you in place as you squirm and cream. And when you say “What about you? I want to please you too”, he will tell you he already had three dry orgasms but never showed you.

• Baizhu is a silent moaner but mostly because he doesn’t want Qiqi or herbalist Gui to witness your personal bed fights. Sometimes not sure if he enjoyed it you will ask him whether or not he is satisfied with whichever you were doing. He will caress your cheek in deep surprise and reply “Of course I did! How could I not?”

• He loves quickies. He is a busy man so quick fuck is a life-saver. But even a quick orgasm becomes very pleasurable in the hands of this pharmacist. He is just too good for this world.

• Aphrodisiac !? - Baizhu prefers to not use this, however moods are fluctuating. You don’t mind a bit and he is happy to serve. One day he was too exhausted and mistook the capacity, so it became so stimulating to him he freaked out seeing himself overflowing with come. You were delighted, though!You lost count how many times he shot that day. And it was one of rare moments when he was actually loud. The next morning after a very passionate long-lasting night, to tell the truth, both of you could barely feel your legs and Baizhu was so clumsy he couldn’t find his eyeglasses.

• Protection! Everywhere and always. Baizhu likes taking precautions and not only it is hygienic and cleaner, he doesn’t want you to worry over pregnancy. After both of you haven’t seen each other due to business at work and Baizhu certainly wanted to pump every last drop for you to see how he wanted you, you can witness used condoms all over the room as evidence of your longing.

#baizhu #genshin smut #smut #genshin impact #baizhu x reader #genshin x reader

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willtheweaver · 6 days ago

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Writecamp day 60

Six-O! As always, a big thanks for the event @agirlandherquill, and thanks for the tag @kitty-is-writing

Today's prompts (I may have gone a bit overboard here): She smashed her torch on the rocks, plunging into darkness, a wall of pines, a blurry bonfire, "I've never asked you for anything, but I'm asking you now."

(This scene takes place over 40 years before the events of A Feather in the Forest):

Night was falling fast. The pines were a wall of black stakes set against blood red.

And it was not only the sky that was bleeding. Every step caused droplets of blood to rain down upon the withered brown needles.

Opal's breath was heavy, her pace slow. She did not want the torch to go out, and besides, going faster only amplified the pain in her left leg. However, her mind kept telling her that her pace was too slow. As beat-up as she was, Grace was in even worse shape. The cousins knew that the wounds would be fatal if they didn't get medical attention.

What little of the day remained ticked away as Opal struggled to put one foot in front of the other.

"It...it's no use..." Grace said weakly. "Put me down."

Opal froze for a second, her ears momentarily stood up. Grace hadn't said anything in hours. But she soon snaped out of it. As gently as she could, Opal laid grace down, her head resting against a pile of fallen branches.

"The burden...it's too much." "Alone, you may be able to get back to the others in time; warn them of the bird's plans. But with me... we'll both die here."

"Don't say things like that!" Opal pleaded. "I won't let you die! I'll find a way to save you!"

"A noble sentiment. But even you can see that we're near the end." Grace put on the smile of one who could no longer cry. "Le Dauphin Inconnu's footsteps are getting louder. He already has my name on his list. I will not allow you to add yours." With what little strength she had, she grasped Opal's hand. Ash black and ghost white were illuminated by the lone torch.

"I've never asked you for anything, but I'm asking you now. Make it back to the camp alive. Warn the others. This cannot break out into open war. We are still weak, and if the Eight know how bad things are...it will be the end of not just Fernstan, but all five villages.

"Promise me you'll stay alive. Please. Don't die here on my account."

"I promise." Opal's eyes were clouded by tears.

"Good." Grace's smile became genuine. "Now...grant me one final boon. Don't linger once it's done."

Opal nodded. Shaking hands placed the torch down, unsheathed the blade, and held it aloft. Thankfully it only took one blow.

With the blood still fresh on her fur, Opal went about creating a makeshift pyre. Maybe it was the adrenaline kicking in, or maybe she herself was dying, but Opal felt neither pain nor exhaustion. All was soon ready.

"Forgive me for lingering longer than you wished." She said apologetically. "But I cannot leave your body to be desecrated by the enemy. Go now to Al-Gia as a warrior. Let your spirit protect the forest you knew so well in life."

Opal touched the torch against the pyre. Brown needles and resin rich twigs took light. She only turned her back when she was sure pyre and body were burning.

"Now I must keep the remainder of my promise." Opal's voice was heavy and dead. She then flung her torch against a nearby cluster of boulders repeatedly until there was nothing but splinters of charred wood.

The second wind had yet to forsake her; her ears now stood erect, her tail no longer dragged limp across the ground. The sound of her heart was like that of hammers pounding against hot iron.

"I've already wasted enough time, as well as letting every living soul for miles around know where I am." In the gloom, her eyes were two red embers. " Time to forsake the light. Let darkness wrap itself around me. Either shield me from those who would wish my people harm...or cast me into the Endless Night."

Tagging @chauceryfairytales @daisywords @poethill @oh-no-another-idea @writingamongther0ses

@mundanemoongirl @cowboybrunch @patternwelded-quill @winterandwords @mk-writes-stuff and anyone who wants to join in!

#writecamp #writng #creative writing #writer #writers #writers and poets #writing community #writer on tumblr #writeblr #the crow and foxfolk series

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montammil · 3 months ago

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CHARACTERS: Charlotte, Lawrence

WARNINGS/TAGS: Food cravings, pregnancy, massages, flirting (depends how you want to perceive them), playful bickering

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Lawrence taking care of a pregnant Charlotte! This was another commission! Charlotte and Lawrence can either be interpreted as intimate besties or something more.

...

"Lawrence, do you seriously need to buy five different types of bread?" Charlotte sighed. "I don't even like banana bread."

"And you're insane for that, by the way," Lawrence chuckled, unpacking all the groceries. "But for your information, I got a bunch of stuff you don't normally like because all your cravings have been things you normally hate. I'm just preparing for the inevitable."

She huffed, but there was no heat behind it. "Had no idea you memorized all my likes and dislikes."

"It's easy to. Most foods I like, you tend to dislike," he snorted. "Pickles, mustard, chili... probably every single good thing in this world." He dodged as she swatted at him. "Now go sit back down, I can handle getting some groceries put away. You hate doing physical labor, don't tell me you suddenly found the joy in it after being seven months pregnant."

Charlotte sighed, sitting on the barstool. "I hate this. My ankles hurt, my feet hurt, my back hurts..."

He frowned sympathetically. "I know, Char. But that's why your savior is here, and he's gonna give you a nice warm bath and a five-star massage."

"My savior? Where is he?" Charlotte managed to tease.

Lawrence shot her a playful glare. "Watch it, or I might not be so gracious as to offer my amazing service."

"I think you're just so egotistical, you want me to worship the ground you walk on for your services."

"Saying that as if you wouldn't be exactly the same, if our roles were reversed."

She chuckled. "I'm now more amused at the thought of you being pregnant. You couldn't even survive that period cramp simulator. You actually cried."

"Perhaps I cried because I realized how much pain some women have to go through every month."

"Was that you being empathetic, or are you just a baby?" she challenged with a teasing grin.

"You're walking a thin line tonight," Lawrence snorted. He frowned when she seethed in pain. "What's wrong? What hurts?" He cupped her shoulder, suddenly nervous when looking her over. "Talk to me, love. Are you alright?"

"I think she's going to be an Olympic swimmer or something," she muttered. "All she does is kick around... right when I try to relax."

Lawrence gently pressed his hand against the swell of her belly. He gave a tiny smile at feeling kicks against his palm. "Don't be too hard on your mommy, kiddo, you're stressing her out. She already has to handle me right now, and that's bad enough."

"It's exhausting having to be a mother to two brats," she teased, straining a weak smile.

"Hey, Sadie told me brat is a good thing nowadays, so I'll take that as a compliment."

Charlotte laughed at that. She then winced again. "Can we go ahead and get that bath ready?" she asked. "It'd feel so nice if it relieved any stress..."

"Of course, darling," Lawrence smiled. "Let me go turn the water on, okay?" He pressed a loving kiss to her cheek before darting up the stairs into her master bathroom, quickly getting everything set up for her to relax. After a few minutes, he stepped back downstairs to find her curled up on the sofa. "C'mon, love, everything's all ready for you, just the way you like it."

"...help me upstairs," she mumbled. "My feet are killing me."

His gaze softened. He wrapped one arm around her waist, making sure she could use him to lean on. Charlotte clung onto his forearm as they shuffled slowly up the staircase and to her bedroom.

"Want help getting undressed, too?" Lawrence laughed when she narrowed her eyes at him. "Not me being a perv, I promise! You've had a difficult time bending over lately, so I figured I'd offer..."

She sighed. "Please."

He helped her take off her leggings first, before pulling off her shirt. "There we go," he grinned. He lifted her up carefully, bringing her into the bathroom and placing her in the tub. "Do you want candles, too?"

Charlotte smiled warmly. "You know what I like."

"Oh, trust me, I do," Lawrence chuckled. He placed a couple around the rim of the tub, lighting them. "The best part about us is we've known each other for so long we always know how to please each other."

"That is true," she agreed with a sigh. The water seemed to be relaxing her.

"I'm gonna go ahead and head back downstairs to cook dinner, alright? Holler if you need anything from me, I'll run right up."

She nodded with a small smile.

He turned down the lights slightly until it was at her usual preferred brightness level.

...

Thirty minutes later, after Charlotte had enjoyed a warm soak, and Lawrence had gotten all the groceries put away (along with having dinner cooked and halfway through the dishes), Charlotte was finally stepping down the stairs.

"Char, I told you to holler when you needed me," he lightly scolded.

"I'm barely on my third trimester. I can still handle a little walk down the stairs," she defended. She settled in her favorite seat in the living room, the armchair that was comfy beyond belief. "What's for dinner?"

"Mushroom rice pilaf and salmon," Lawrence answered, bringing her a plate. He offered some silverware, which she gratefully took. "I know you aren't a huge fan of seafood, but salmon is really good for you, chalked with omega-three fatty acids."

"You and your health craze," she scoffed, though not maliciously. She took a bite, savoring the flavor. "You should have been a nutritionist or something, instead of an actor."

"Then you'd be way out of my league," Lawrence chuckled.

"As if I'm not already?" She bit into the salmon once again. "This is surprisingly good. I usually hate fish... but this seems to be hitting the spot, thank you."

His expression melted into relief. "Really? That's good to hear," he hummed. "After you're done eating, I can give you that massage. I stocked up on those essential oils you said smelled nice a couple weeks ago, so we have a variety."

"I hope these massages won't stop after I've had the baby," Charlotte murmured with a smile.

"Of course not. I enjoy giving them. Speaking of, how long of maternity leave do you get?" He sat down on the couch across from her, sipping on some wine.

"I have more than enough money to take as much time as I want off or even retire, but I think only two weeks was in the contract I signed." She sighed, stirring her food around in thought.

Lawrence gasped. "Seriously? Only two weeks? What kinda bullshit is that?!"

"The corporate kind."

His grip tightened on his wine glass. "You can't tell me you're not gonna fight for more than that!"

"Oh, I will. And even if they don't relent, I'll still take at least three months off."

He felt himself relax slightly. "Good..." he sighed. "If not, I'll show up there personally and argue with those assholes myself." He stood up, grabbing the now empty plate from her hands. "And now let's get you upstairs and nice and comfortable again." After letting her wrap around his forearm again, he helped her carefully up the stairs and to her bed. "How do you wanna lay?"

"On my side. Easier to breathe when she's not crushing my lungs," she snorted.

Once she laid flat, Lawrence grabbed a few pillows to stuff underneath her head, legs, and beneath her stomach. "There we go," he grinned. "Ready?" He started by massaging her calves, kneading out any knots.

"You could easily start your own spa with these amazing massages," Charlotte mused. "I would never go to another place in my life."

Lawrence smiled warmly at that. "I only give them to people who I think deserve it." He reached up to her thighs now, repeating similar actions of rubbing away tension.

"People you think deserve it, hm? Anyone else who has received your magic touch?"

"Jealous?" Lawrence teased.

"You want me to be jealous. I think that helps fill your ego."

"It does," he agreed. "What can I say? I like to see you fawning over me."

She chuckled, groaning softly when he rubbed her hips next. "That feels nice..." Charlotte breathed out. Her eyes were half-lidded in contentment.

"Yeah?" Lawrence hummed. "That's good to hear... do you just want me to focus here for a bit, then?"

"...if you don't mind."

"I'm all yours tonight, Char," he promised. "Whatever you want me to do, I'm doing it."

"Is this also boosting your ego? Knowing I'm essentially helpless without you right now?" She ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to hide her amusement when he pressed into the touch.

"It makes me feel appreciated," he admitted. He kissed the inside of her palm, still continuing his hip massage.

Charlotte cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet hers. "I appreciate you, darling. Even if my hormones are making me short-fused with you sometimes, I'd be lost without you. I always feel better when you're around. You make my day. And when I'm fully recovered and can do certain things again, I'll pamper you back. I'll pay you back every single night that you took care of me, I promise."

"I'm not doing this to make you owe me. Contrary to popular belief, I can be selfless sometimes."

"I know you can," she smiled.

"If I ever got pregnant, you'd do the same for me, right?" He worked his way up to her shoulders.

"Oh, how amusing you being the one carrying a child around instead of me."

"I'd look damn good while doing it," Lawrence smirked.

"I agree," Charlotte chuckled. "But yes, I'd treat you just as kindly and help with any discomforts you'd have. And then I'd make fun of all your cravings that you gave me hell for."

"Yeah, I definitely see you doing that," he laughed.

Charlotte yawned, shifting positions, signalling Lawrence to stop. "I think I'm ready for bed. Are you joining me?"

"I'll go get an extra blanket, you always hog the covers."

"And sometimes you snore, so I suppose this would make us even."

He playfully glared at her, though there was no real heat behind it.

#lawrence oc #charlotte oc #commission

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yanxidarlings · 2 years ago

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YANDERE POLY BROMIGOS HEADCANONS (ftwd)

because i took a break from ftwd at season 3 and i'm not confident enough to write for twd yet but i want angst and misery and want i it now

to refresh your memory the "bromigos" are brandon's group (brandon luke, derek, james mcallister, chris manawa) from season 2 that got chris killed. What can I say I like POS minor characters 🤡

BUT let's just say, hypothetically, instead of putting James down, they chuck him in the back of the truck and jus say "if he bleeds out he bleeds out if he doesn't he doesn't", but chris still crashes the truck and darling is there to prevent everyone's deaths 😮

• maybe the darling had followed travis and chris from madison's group or maybe they were apart of brandon's group. heck, they could even have been staying with the mexican guy at the farm. either way, they convince the others to spare the bullet and let nature take it's course with james.

• so the group packs up the truck and sets off. eventually chris gets his turn driving and that's when it all goes to shit. the vehicle smashes in a tree, flipping on it's side in the process, brandon and derek get out with pretty minor injuries, cuts to the head and a sprained wrist.

• james and chris on the other hand are doing pretty bad. on with shards of glass in his leg and the bone sticking out, the other with his gunshot wound worsened by the impact. the darling came out with a small concussion, having been in the back with james.

"look at them!, they're as good as dead. they'll be nothing but extra weight on us" brandon pointed his shotgun at james's head, ignoring the others plea's for mercy. m/n shot the other a sharp glare, raising his brows "oh. i get it" he sighed, lowering his pistol, "so if you were also injured you would hold up the same principle?"

"i'm not injured and since when have you been in char-" BANG. before brandon could finish his sentance, a loud crack sounded. and he was on the ground, his calf now covered in blood. "what the fuck man" "oh look there, derek, he's deadweight now, should we put him down?" m/n quipped, turning towards the only other uninjured member of the group, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

• shooting brandon might not have been the best decision in the long run, as walkers were slowly making their way towards the scene. derek was forced to help james and brandon hobble their way back to the farm - or the closest functioning vehicle. whilst m/n found a piece of tarp and dragged chris along on it.

• out of all of them, brandon hated m/n the most. who does he think he is? but he was also kind of weirdly attracted to the guy. if they weren't in the middle of an apocalypse he'd never even consider what he was nor would he find another male attractive. he'd used to make fun of the gay kids in highschool!

• but it's not like there are many options these days. at some point he tells the reader this, but all that came out of it was a concussion from the slap he received.

• his growing fondness evolved into obsession as the weeks go by and he begins to realise how much of an asset to the group the reader really is. he's the kind of person that would survive and thrive in this world, so much so that other survivors are going to want to steal him away from the group. like hell brandons going to let that happen.

• he used to think the other three were a bunch of gay sissy's, but now he too constantly grills the reader when he tries to go on runs, spends too much time alone or interacts with another survivor.

• after the whole crash fiasco, derek is straight up terrified of m/n. and is of the belief that he would belong in a mental hospital if society hadn't collapsed. as the only other uninjured member of the group, he's forced to take up alot of the slack. he goes on runs with and helps m/n secure the farm, he believes he's much closer to the reader because of this. which is what kickstarts his obsession.

• derek is under the belief that he's m/n's favourite of the group, otherwise he would have shot him as well, right? he does some mental gymnastics which arrive him at the assumption that m/n is definitely into him.

• wouldn't usually be his thing but nor would shooting people. the apocalypse changes you. so he kinda just starts.. acting like he's much closer to the reader than he actually is. mf takes his shirt off whilst on a run, thinking he's doing m/n a service.

• "put a shirt on" "it's boiling out here bro" "you might as well write walker bait on there"

• honestly james was into m/n after one look. it only got worse when he was saved from being put down twice. like derek he is fully under the impression that the reader is into him. but is much less subtle (if you could call derek's approach subtle).

• whenever m/n is attending to his wound, james is shamelessly flirting. and then he wonders why the reader is being less gentle when reapplying the gauze. he exaggerates his condition to the reader and is constantly demanding something "you couldn't look for something to drink when your out there? i'd share some with you ;)"

• when his injury starts to heal he only comes on more strong; unprompted 'bro hugs' (m/n could probably press charges), jumping on m/n during the middle of the night (and getting mistaken for a walker 😵), 'sharing' a piece of chocolate m/n brought him (the busted lip took two weeks to heal)

• but he takes it all in relative stride, and thinks m/n has some underlying psychological issues that need to be addressed.

• chris thinks m/n should have just killed the other three so it could just be the two of them. he hates sharing the readers attention with literally anything and anyone. but he's not exactly in a position to get rid of them, as the most injured out of the bunch.

• whilst he starts off as just possessive, as he gets more mobile and more obsessed with the darling, he becomes overwhelmingly violent. towards the others, towards the darling. he can't stand being rejected, and whilst the other three kind of just laugh the readers blatant disgust with their advances off, chris won't stand for it.

• "do you think your better than me?" chris jumps to the worst conclusions when m/n won't lay next to him, ect. you're planning on abandoning me just like my dad did, you're just using me to find your family, you're a sadistic piece of shit. he swings between shyly and violently affectionate, leaving m/n on the edge.

• out of all of them, chris is the quickest to go full-blown yandere. like brandon he becomes abhorrently possessive of m/n, knowing that there are probably better options out there for him.

• the only thing that keeps them, or chris and brandon, from killing everyone else in the group, is the knowledge that they have an advantage in numbers. brandon is well aware m/n could probably kill him 1 v 1 but 4 v 1 and m/n's chances of escaping are pretty slim.

• but just because they have silently agreed not to kill each other does not mean they have an active agreement. sure if they catch m/n trying to escape they'll break his arm but does anyone have a specific day they get to spend with him and is there any official relationship between m/n and any of them? not that m/n knows of.

• but it's not like any of them take no for an answer, no matter how many times they come onto him and get wrecked rejected they just go back stronger the next time. as a bunch of hormonal young men in the middle of mexico with no one else in sight the reader is kind of fucked here.

• now is the reader in any particular danger with this group? just a lil bit. nowhere near as much as other survivors they come across are. doesn't matter if m/n is compassionate and offers to take them in, he'll find them as walkers in the barn the next day.

• BUT on the brightside when it comes to decision making for the groups well being, you, dear reader, have the final say. they reluctantly recognise that they owe their livelihood to the reader for knowing a questionable amount of survival knowledge.

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heartinhands · 14 days ago

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@burneds said: he had found a cake that was one thing, no candle but at least that rose he got would be a nice addition for the missing part. he waits a bit later when the sun goes down to finally see him "hey, uh think if i remember correctly it's your birthday? not much but i got you this" as he sits down he puts punisher down and puts the cake and the rose in front of them "happy birthday, vash." / from woowoo!!

Birthdays aren't easy for one half of a whole. Every year Vash can't help but wonder: where's Knives? and lament that he can't be here with him. They should be celebrating together. They shouldn't be out here alone, each so tormented and set on their own individual paths, unable to even stomach the other. Knives is out there and I'm here. Not that Knives probably cares about anything so 'human' as a birthday. He's too tender to let himself care about something like that now or else his whole scheme would probably just fall right apart.

Regardless, the people are kind. Vash is not. He's good at pretending to be kind but he simply is not. It makes it easier to count the years, seeing the kind people he gets the chance to see grow up and turn from caterpillars into butterflies and he marches on, same as always. He struggles with his blank ticket but getting to see people like Wolfwood and Meryl and Milly and that guy Brad or whatever his name is -- it makes it easier to punch the hole and move on, one step at a time.

He's got his head propped up staring out a window when Wolfwood comes trotting through the door. He's carrying Punisher, his footsteps always shift differently when he does, one leg slightly favored over the other / something about the weight of your sins, probably. But because Vash is feeling a bit melancholic he doesn't turn around to say hi to his friend immediately or try to tell him off for what Vash assumes is that he had to go out and make a hit with that huge cross of a gun--but finally the need to be silly overwhelms Vash and he turns with his mouth open in a stupid little sneer and Wolfwood beats him to the punch:

"hey, uh think if i remember correctly it's your birthday? not much but i got you this" and: "happy birthday, vash"

At first Vash is mad. Not at Wolfwood or this impossibly kind gesture: at Knives. Stupid, idiotic Knives, who should be here to share this cake with him. Because it's not just his birthday, is it?

But that's not the point. And no amount of lamenting or wishful thinking is going to put Vash's lost twin to his left to share this beautiful cake with him. "Wow, Wolfwood--," it's an impressive cake. Getting the ingredients to make cake, much less an impressive one, is a remarkably difficult task on this desert planet. Vash can't help but sit with his jaw slack and stare for a bit. He reaches out with an extended pinky to dab at a bit of the frosting on the side and stick it in his mouth--"Real buttercream?!" and his eyes go even wider. "Where'd you even get this?!" He scrambles to his feet to clap Wolfwood twice on his shoulders. "You better not have used any of your 'priestly' connections to blackmail someone into makin' this--you get what I'm saying?!" It's not a real accusation. It's just if Vash thinks about it he might cry and that'll probably embarrass Wolfwood even more than he probably already is underneath those huge square shades of his.

Vash turns with a properly anime-manifested fork and knife to go cutting themself some slices but he hasn't even brought up the rose yet has he? "Is that real?" Now his voice turns silently awed and reverent. Vash delicately picks the rose up at its stem and raises the deep crimson bloom to his face. Now he can see the very edges of the thing's petals are scalded at the edges, charred brown in color, and curled slightly from the heat of the sun no doubt. "It's amazing." Vash means it when he says it, the vowels carved out perfectly. He presses his nose into the rose to breathe its scent. It doesn't even smell like it's part of this world. That such beauty can exist on this planet. That humans who Vash sometimes also struggles to place his faith in can cultivate and work for something as delicate as a single rose. He thinks of Rem and her blank ticket to anywhere and Vash knows immediately he is making the right choice. Even if it's hard. Believing is better than not. Every time. It's the ultimate gift Wolfwood could have given Vash on this very difficult birthday.

Vash takes a few moments to stick the gnarled stem of the rose between a buttonhole and proudly show it off to his friend, chest jutting out. "How do I look?" He's wearing an impish grin, cheeks blushed pink with happiness.

#WAS IT HIS BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY <- FAKE TRIGUN FAN APPARENTLY #THANK U ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I READ THIS NAD GOT IN MY FEELINGS #asks.#burneds #vash: ic.

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descendantswickedwonderland · 1 month ago

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𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: 𝑭𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑭𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒐

" The nature of your soul is. ..unclear to me. "

"What did you just say?" The headmaster questioned the mirror.

"I sense no magical power from this one. Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate." the mirror answered.

"Are you suggesting that the black carriage went to receive a person who cannot even use magic?" Crowley was confused, "But that is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence!"

"Imagine being invited only to be rejected. lol." Hadie jokes, laughing at the magicless human from the sidelines with Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos. "Sucks to be them," Jay said, resting his arms behind his head. Carlos nodded in agreement.

The Outlander's Clan leader barely batted an eye about the magicless human. The hyenas and gray wolves giggled at the sight before them.

"Mmmph! Nnnrgggh… GASP!" the raccoon-cat escaped the birdman's grasp, "ME! Let ME have this student's seat!" he yelled, standing on his hind legs.

"Not so fast, you hyperactive raccoon!" the principal shouted, pointing his cane at the raccoon cat.

"Unlike that human, I can use magic! So let me be a student here!" the cat said, "Look, I'll show you! My spells're the cat's meow!" spewing fire everywhere.

"Everyone, get down!" the redhead boy shouted. The curtains were burning from the fire.

The poor boy with red eyes' robes was on fire. "AHHHHH! HELP! I'm on fire over here!" he cried for help.

"Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school ablaze!" the Headmaster graciously ordered his students. He was more worried about how much it would cost to repair the Mirror Chamber.

"Ugh. Can I go now, or…?" the boy with lion ears barely cared about what the headmaster said.

"Oh? I thought you fancied yourself a hunter. Go and help yourself to that plump little snack!" the handsome boy said, the boy with lion ears answered in a low growl.

"Too much effort. Do it yourself." the lion replied.

Mal's POV:

"We need to leave. Now " dragging Hadie from his hoodie and the attention of her friends. "We'll be burned with them if we stay here any longer."

"But Mal I'm fireproof!" Hadie yelled but then a fireball was heading towards him nearly burning his clothes.

"But are your clothes fireproof?"

Hadie had a short thought, "Uh, no"

"Then come on."

»»—————♡—————««

Third person POV:

Then a boy with glasses stepped forward, "Allow me to handle this, Headmaster Crowley. If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility."

"That's Azul for you. Always trying to earn himself points." the floating tablet said.

"Umm, hey, could someone put out my butt fire already!?" The boy wearing a turban asks his fellow classmates completely ignoring him once again.

Uma decided to help the poor unfortunate boy like the benevolent octopus she is. Pouring a bucket of water to his almost charred robes.

"Thank you so much! I'm Kalim Al-Asim, Dorm Head of Scarabia." He introduced himself. "This might be rude to ask but… What were your names again? I'm not good at remembering names. "

"It's no big deal." She smiled at him. "I'm Uma. The guy with the Hook is Harry. Next to him is Gil behind him are my crew." pointing to her friends.

"You and your friends should come over to Scarabia sometimes" the Dorm Head of Scarabia offered the octopus. "Let me know if you guys are coming. We'll held a grand party just for you guys."

Taking off her hat and bowing at the boy, she shake hands with him "「𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐥」" The pirate octopus faked a smiled, and parted their ways. After the pirates parted ways with Kalim, a boy with olive black hair wearing robes approached Kalim.

"Kalim are you alright? Did that girl do anything to you?" the boy asks, looking at Kalim he saw that the lower parts of his Robes were charred. 'Ugh, that useless headmaster.' he thought to himself.

"I'm alright Jamil. That girl and her friends helped me." Kalim reassured the boy named Jamil. "As a thank you gift, I invited her and her friends to Scarabia"

"Eh?!?!" Jamil was surprised from what he said. 'Ugh. More work for me'

The Dorm Leader and Vice-Dorm Leader of Scarabia had a long talk about inviting the pirate girl and her crew. Jamil was mostly worried about Kalim's safety and also the treasure being taken from the vault in Scarabia.

The entire room was engulfed into flames. Students screaming for help and a useless headmaster who is supposed to help his students is absolutely useless.

"It certainly has moxie. Care to assist me Riddle?" The boy wearing glasses known as Azul asks his fellow Dormhead.

"I can't overlook those who break rules. Let's hurry and get this over with" Riddle replied.

Quinn stepped towards Riddle and Azul, "I'll assist you both as well" Quinn grabbing his rapier still sheathed " I dislike those who breaks mother's rules. " Quinn glazed at the cat in front of him.

From the sides the oldest and the youngest hearts can be seen being snickering at the poor fate of the cat at the hands of their brother known for sending disobedient card soldiers to the gallows.

»»—————♡—————««

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD"

The redhead yelled at the raccoon-cat. A heart shaped collar with a lock appeared on the raccoon cat's neck. "Nygah! The heck is this!?" the cat tried to take it off but it won't budget.

" Laws of the Queen of Hearts: Number 23 "One shall never bring a cat into a festival." The redheaded glared, "You being a cat means you've broken the rule. I shall have you leave at once."

"Wouldn't beheading the cat be better? Live execution perhaps?" Quinn suggested but was stopped by Riddle explaining that it would be better to make it leave the school premises. Which scared the boys with a clover and a diamond mark on their faces .

"I'm not a cat!!" the cat tried to use magic but to no avail it didn't work "I'll burn this collar right up and… E, eh? I can't use my fire! "

"Hmph! You won't be using any magic until I remove the collar."

"Just like an ordinary cat." Quinn scoffed.

"Wh-what!? I'm not some pet!"

"Don't worry, I'd never keep a pet like you." the redhead said, "I'll take it off anyway when you get thrown out."

"Wow, as wonderful as ever. Any and all magic gets sealed by your Unique Magic, Riddle." Azul complimented. "I simply must have it… Err, I mean I wouldn't ever want that cast on me." He whispered, which caught the attention of Quinn, Mal and her friends from the sides.

"We'll now we know who to avoid first" Jay whispered to his friends.

"He reminds of me Uma for some reason… Well, except he isn't an octopus" Evie mumbled.

"Don't remind me" Carlos shivered remembering the octopus form of Uma.

"Hey Mal, I think there's a spell in that book of your's, that can change a person's appearance temporarily. " Hadie smirked wondering how chaotic it would be.

A brilliant idea popped inside Mal's head. "Well, too bad. We have can't stay here either we have to go back before our parents' found out we're not in Auradon" Mal chimed. "We'll have tell the Headmaster we can't stay here. And if he doesn't comply… then, we'll have to ask him nicely. "

The Headmaster talked to the magic less human about his familiar's rampage.

"Well, that was quite the unexpected fracas. I hereby declare that orientation has concluded. Dorm Leaders, please escape your students back to the dorms." The Headmaster announced "…Hm? Come to think of it, I don't see the Leader Diasomnia, Mr. Draconia, anywhere."

"That's no different from usual, is it?" The man with lion ears scoffed.

"Wait a sec… Did anyone even invite him?" Kalim asks his fellow Dormheads.

"If you're that worried about him missing out, maybe you should have told him yourself."

"Maybe, but I don't know him too well either…"

…

"Draconia… Like, Malleus Draconia? THAT Draconia?", said a student.

"So it's true? He really does go to school here?", the other said warily.

"Yikes." said another.

…

"Ah. Just as I'd expected." a guy with black, mid-length hair with angled, straight-cut bangs and magenta highlights. "I figured I'd come down and see for myself whether Malleus had made an appearance. But once again, he was evidently not informed that his presence was required at an official ceremony."

"You have my sincerest apologies. I assure you, this oversight was in no way intended as a snub." Azul fix his glasses.

"I mean, you must admit, he's not exactly the easiest person to strike up a conversation with." The Heartslabyul Dorm leader said.

"Cowards." Mal blatantly said which caught the attention of the Vice-leader of Diasomnia he chuckled as a response.

"No matter. All who were assigned to Diasomnia, follow me. I just hope he doesn't sulk about this." the Vice-leader of Diasomnia said. He walked towards Mal, "You and your always welcome in Diasomnia, Mal. "

"As much as we would like the offer but we can't stay here." Mal replied, "We have to get back in our own world."

"Such a shame." The Vice-dorm leader sighed, ' I wish you could meet him. ' "We'll still greet you with open arms in Diasomnia." he bid farewell but a jealous lime green student from afar was glaring daggers at Mal.

Each dorm head talked to their respected Great Seven's descendants. The Heartslabyul invited them for an anniversary party and a game of croquet. Savanaclaw invited them a game of Magift. Octavinelle offered a special treat. Scarabia offered them antique items and jewels. Pomefiore would give them skin care products. Ignihyde would give them various popular games and tech. Diasomnia would invite them over for tea.

Everyone in the room left except The VKs, a magicless human and a useless headmaster.

»»—————♡—————««

#descendants #descendantswickedwonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst fanfic #twst wonderland

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hawkdisaster · 5 months ago

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Characters : Aegon II Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera & Maelor Targaryen Triggers warnings : None Words count : 1241 words

(Credit goes to @thecutestgrotto)

Far away from their family, life is sweet and peaceful for Aegon, Helaena and their children. ▬ Chapter 2

— Mum, Dad's going to make dinner.

The fright was clearly visible on Jaehaerys' face. Daddy's going to make dinner. And Helaena could understand her little boy's fright all too well, that sentence alone being enough to make her break out in a cold sweat as she abandoned the book she was reading and hurried to the kitchen in the hope of, perhaps, stopping the horror before it even began. Helaena loved many things about Aegon: the way he went out of his way every day to make sure that she and their children were happy, his little habits (like that huge cup of caramel coffee he drank every morning without fail, or the song he sang to their children every night to put them to sleep), his attentions to her, like when he took her breakfast to bed, the many text messages he sent her every day to which she always replied with great pleasure... All these little things, all these tiny details that, added together, made Helaena fall a little more in love with him every day. Of course, Aegon wasn't perfect - who was? - but despite his faults, he was still a good brother, a good husband and an excellent father.

Except for one thing, though. Ever since Christmas 2019, when he set fire to the oven while trying to bake a simple cranberry tart, forcing Aemond, their uncle Gwayne and Criston to combine their efforts to extinguish the fire and prevent the cottage from going up in flames, ‘Never let Aegon near the oven’ had become the unofficial family motto. Faced with such a disaster, which was certainly narrowly averted, others would no doubt have understood that it would be better for them not to go within a metre of any stove... but not Aegon. Aegon insisted again and again on cooking, despite his almost supernatural ability to burn water while cooking, and Helaena insisted again and again on making him understand that it was probably better for everyone to leave her alone in charge of preparing meals, but her brother always gently dismissed her, arguing that it was unfair to leave her alone in charge of this task.

What's unfair is forcing us to eat what you prepare. Words she never dared say aloud, because they were unfair to her brother. Aegon's lack of cooking skills was not a feigned failure, it wasn't a pitiful attempt at strategic incompetence on his part to shirk a domestic task, he was genuinely trying to do things right ! Which didn't stop Helaena from trying, again and again, to limit the damage. But this time, unfortunately, she was too late. She barely held back a groan when she saw that the massacre - for there was definitely no other word for it - had already begun. Were these things supposed to be vegetables ?

— I think the vegetables have a bit of a cooking problem, his brother observed in a perfectly natural tone. These burnt things - charred even - were vegetables. As for the cooking problem, it was very difficult to describe it as "small". Helaena hesitated, just for a moment: should she remain silent yet again ? Suffer another night ? Or tell him - at last - the truth. Until she made her choice. She loved Aegon, she loved him so much, but she could no longer hold her tongue.

— Aegon, I love you, but please step out of the kitchen, she gave in, half begging her love, and yet managing to feel guilty in front of his surprised and somewhat hurt look.

— You really think I'm that bad in the kitchen.

It's not even a question.

— Sorry, Dad, but Mum knows how to cook better..., begins Jaehaerys, half-hidden behind Helaena's leg. Ouch. Children, those adorable creatures, always so frank, although sometimes frankness is as pleasant as a punch in the face. Almost immediately, as if to make up for it, their little boy continues to talk. You're better at cuddling than Mummy though !

Once again : Ouch. Helaena could almost feel offended at not being considered the best hugger in the world by her own child, but the compliment at least had the merit of bringing a broad smile to her brother-husband's lips, the latter finally agreeing to step aside from the stoves to make room for her, preferring to embark on the much less perilous mission of setting the table, helped by Jaehaerys and Jaehaera while Maelor watched them do it, his cuddly toy Vaghar in his arms. So Helaena could cook... or rather try to salvage what she could, even if a glance at one of the pans was enough to confirm what she already knew : there was nothing to salvage. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to salvage the poor pan, as the food inside was literally charred to a crisp.

It was decided : Aegon was no longer allowed within a metre - or even thirty centimetres ! - from the stoves. Never again ! Helaena cared deeply for him, she cared deeply for their children and their pets, but she also cared deeply for the physical integrity of their home, which was in danger of being damaged every day by her brother-husband's total lack of talent for cooking. A nervous laugh suppressed with great difficulty, followed by a very brief eulogy for the poor frying pan that had met such a tragic fate. Then, once the damage had been repaired as best they could and the meal was ready, their little family could finally sit down to eat.

— Am I really that bad at cooking ? insists Aegon again a few minutes later, Helaena's only reaction being to hold back another groan of distress, weighing up very seriously the pros and cons of knowingly burning her mouth with a mouthful that was too hot rather than answering this question seriously. And thus hurt Aegon's feelings. However, after giving herself a few moments to think of an answer, she finally dared to reply.

— ... You're not as bad as all that, it's just that... Aegon, I'm sorry but I can't lie to you : it's not for everyone to be able to literally char vegetables in just a few minutes...

If delicacy was an Olympic discipline, Helaena had undoubtedly ruined her chances of achieving it and almost instantly regretted having been so honest.

— But it doesn't matter, does it ? Mum's rubbish at tinkering and it's no big deal, so it's no big deal if you're rubbish at cooking, Daddy ! exclaimed Jaehaera, jumping up and down on her chair, simplifying things with all the logic of a child. Helaena exchanged a glance with her brother, who shrugged. What could they say to that ? After all, their daughter wasn't wrong at all: it wasn't serious to be bad at cooking and yes, it was better to avoid asking her to fix anything because, like Aegon and his incredible ability to burn water while cooking, she herself was particularly good at ensuring that any object she ventured to try and fix was even more broken in the end.

— Hang on a minute... I'm no good at handiwork either !

Seeing his father's indignant face, Maelor was the first to start laughing, soon followed by his sister and brother, then by Aegon and Helaena herself. Each to his own talent, after all.

#i'm gonna rename this work as “helaegon : the modern disasters”#aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #maelor targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #my fanfics #my post

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nsokolow · 8 months ago

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Transformers One: Charoite

Chapter Five

Sentinel cradled Charoite on his lap as they watched a dramatic movie in the theater room. Charoite thought it was sweet, and bit funny that, even though Sentinel had his arm wrapped around her arm, the other across her legs, like he was a source of security, he seemed to be a bit tense during some of the scenes. Not her, though. It seemed a bit overacted to her, but still entertaining.

“Hey, Char, mind if I have another cube?” Sentinel rubbed a finger up and down her arm.

“Well, you did give them to me, but whatever; I’m in a good mood.” Charoite picked up a cube and popped it into Sentinel’s mouth.

“Sentinel?” Charoite asked after a few minutes of silence between them. “What should we tell bots about…us?”

Sentinel leaned his head back and groaned. “Well, for now, I think its best nobody knows except Airachnid, since she lives and works here too, and I know she wouldn’t say anything. I just don’t think the public would take it well if they knew I was involved with my secretary.”

“Oh.” Charoite loosened her hold around Sentinel’s shoulders.

“Tell you what. If we hopefully decide to become sparkmates in the future, you could quit being my secretary, and we could go public! Hopefully that can happen soon.” Sentinel tightened his hold on Charoite.

“Okay!” Charoite exaggerated her smile before she gave Sentinel a quick, perky kiss. “Sounds good!”

It had been a bit over a month, and Charoite’s relationship with Sentinel stayed strong. She however yearned to at least tell one close friend about Sentinel and was irritated at Sentinel asking her if she told anybody every time she came back from somewhere. Charoite also had nagging feelings Sentinel had control over her and that she couldn’t express all of her needs and wants. Despite these issues, Charoite was pretty sure he was right for her. Not to mention…he was Sentinel Prime! She should be honored to have caught his eye, and to be living in such a beautiful place with everything she could want!

Right?

Sentinel also took such good care of her. He arranged for her to get a fresh coat of paint, the same rich colors as before, yet much more durable. Sentinel also bought her what were likely the most expensive items he could find…jewelry, a sleeping pod with as many light color options as song options, and of course…a shiny new decal with his face on it. Sentinel also gladly let her partake in living the high life, more than she already had. She accompanied him, and sometimes the crew as well, to different parties and galas hosted by Iacon City’s elites.

There was nothing else she could want? Right?

A bonus was Airachnid had less of an attitude towards her since the relationship started.

Tonight was a bittersweet night. Charoite stood at the balcony, staring out into the lights and near-silence. A few of the projections read, “Iacon 5000,” accompanied by an emblem of Sentinel surrounded by racers. They had just started advertising it, which signified her dream was to going to be a reality even sooner now. Tomorrow he was to again venture up to the surface in search of the Matrix. Maybe he’d find it this time? Sometimes Charoite was haunted by the thought of Cybertron running out of energon. If Sentinel found the Matrix, her fears would finally be put to rest.

“Hey!”

Charoite jumped and look back at Sentinel. “Oh, hi! Still haven’t gotten used to how quietly you walk into places sometimes.”

“Haha, don’t mention it. I thought I’d find you out here.” Sentinel hugged Charoite from behind and kissed her cheek. “Thinking about how much you’re gonna miss your Prime?”

Charoite surprised herself when a chuckle escaped her. She touched Sentinel’s cheek. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m not gonna miss you…because you’re coming with me!”

“What?” Charoite screamed, causing Sentinel to flinch. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious!” Sentinel grabbed her hands. “I know all this secretiveness has been hard on you. I also have a secret that’ll be revealed on the surface I know I can trust you with now. Just remember…” Sentinel raised his eyebrows. “…what happens on the surface stays on the surface. I almost never even bring it up with Airachnid.”

“Whoa, okay…being kinda intense there, Sen. Everything okay?”

Sentinel sighed. “Sorry. Everything’s fine. It’s just…I need bots to see me for the hero I am. The truth is what I make it, so I’m their hero.”

“Uh…okay?” Charoite shrugged. “Anyway…” she wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “You wanna go to the gym room, then have some energon? I thought I could fly a few laps and then we could watch something funny?”

“Well who am I to deny you that? Come on, Char!” Sentinel grabbed Charoite’s hand and headed toward the gym.

They both flew a few laps in the gym, before Charoite let Sentinel swing her around by her arms; she felt like flying without the effort.

In the bar and game room, Charoite, proud to have beaten Sentinel in all five of the games, sat on his lap on the floor, right in front of the window. They stared out at Iacon and commented on the changing signs as they ate some energon cubes.

“More Iacon 5000 signs started appearing today,” Charoite remarked. “It’s making me more excited!” She gave Sentinel a squeeze. “You know, I still can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you did for me.”

“Don’t mention it. It was for me too—and Iacon’s dreamers, of course.” Sentinel pointed. “I haven’t seen that in a while! A new oil transplant PSA about how charitable and loving it is to donate oil or whatever.”

“Eh…it’s a good message. Oh, look! There you are!” Charoite pointed to an image of Sentinel with a determined expression. The caption read, “Sentinel Prime’s trip to the surface begins tomorrow.”

“Only…I’ll be there too!” Charoite giggled. “I deserve to be on that sign, too, not gonna lie. I mean, I am your co-hero. Not to mention I save you from bad scheduling!”

“Okay, okay, good point.” Sentinel kissed the top of Charoite’s head. “I’d honestly love to see you on a sign with me someday. Not to mention our colors go pretty well together.”

Charoite and Sentinel shared a chuckle. He turned her around and gave her a gentle kiss. Charoite leaned against him.

“We should probably get to sleep. Looking forward to taking you to the surface tomorrow!” Sentinel stood up and gently pulled Charoite up with him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” replied Charoite, “I just hope I’m able to sleep! I’m just so excited to see the surface! I mean, how many bots are this lucky!”

“Well, it isn’t safe for most bots, but the guards, Airachnid, and I will protect you if need be. It helps that you’re a pretty fast flier! Anyway, see you in the morning, Char.” Sentinel gave her a quick kiss and walked away.

With a spring in her step, Charoite left for her own room. She looked down and smiled at her shoulder, where her Sentinel Prime decal sticker was.

#transformers one fanfiction #transformers oc #transformers one #transformers #tf one sentinel prime #sentinel prime #tfone sentinel #tfone airachnid #airachnid #iacon city #iacon #iacon 5000 #cybertron #sentinel prime x oc #sentinel x oc #tfone fanfic #tfone oc

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michameinmicha · 8 months ago

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Would you mind talking a bit about your most recent project zomboid game/character? Or maybe your favourite mod or some fun facts about how you play? I'm super interested in this game but i have to wait a little longer before i can get it but i like to see others online talk about it! (i wanna buy it for myself as a xmas present hehe)

Hi yes i love talking about PZ! :D

(sorry for taking a while for this answer... and this got long again, which was to be expected... hope you like reading a LOT about pz lol)

So my current character is called Killer Green. They're the third char i created in this sandbox game (starting location Louisville, with a mod). the first one was Baby Green, who lived a surprising 6 (i think?) months and then got killed by an unexpected group of zombies inside a building :( I made a second char (Angel Green) to avenge them but had to find out the hard way, that you can't throw molotow coctails out of a broken window, trying to will set you on fire and kill you. :(( Thus char 3, Killer was born, (i named them that because i was so angry lol) who has since retrieved Angel's corpse and burried them beside the safe house. We are still looking for Baby's Zombie (which must be somewhere in this fucking city but by now they could be pretty much anywhere ugh) I am determined to find and kill it and to bury Baby's body next to Angel's so they can be home and in peace.

So yeah, this is my story now. (Gotta say i do like having a goal!) In the meantime i've set up a second base in the middle of the city, close to where Baby died so i can stay there for a few days at a time. I'm also contonuing to work on my main base (a largeish House by the river on the West side of the city) and building up Killer's skills since they had to start from zero ofc after Baby died.

Deciding a favourite mod is hard, because like many. I'm gonna list a few that i think make the biggest impact on how i play:

Change Sandbox Options (by star) - Let's you access the sandbox options mid-game, so you can change things around without having to start a new game. very useful, especially while you start out and try out different things!

Louisville Spawn - Adds LV as a starting location (i would NOT advise you to start in LV if you're a beginner, it's really hard. but i like it, now that i got used to the game and stuff.)

Antibodies (v1.85) - makes the infection potentially less deadly (you can decide in the settings how likely you want the infection to turn you into a zombie. I like this especially because at the beginning i never lived long enough to even start learning skills and stuff before i got bit and had to start all over again.......)

Uhm i play solo and i guess i like find a safe house and use it as a base while going out to explore/loot stuff. I'm not much of a traveller for more than a few days at a time (kudos to the players who live out of their car, i could never, i just like to hoard stuff too much lol)

I like to set myself goals to achieve (like collecting things and such) to keep the later game interesting :3

Random fun fact: I love composting! I can not explain why but for some reason it is super satisfying to me to collect rotten food and putting it in the composter. I literally have 2 composters in my backyard, that are always full and several bags of garbage that i still need to put in as soon as they have some space again lol. By now i have more compost than i can use for fertilizing (it's winter rn) but i still collect rotten stuff wherever i go xD

Also not sure if this is a fun fact but in my experience i pretty much never get bitten/scratched on the legs so when the temperature allows it, i wear shorts/ a mini skirt and fishnets, which i think looks so good with the leather jacket and military boots! (very gender uwu) (Other than that i mostly chose clothes for protection rather than style, but the legs are ✨fashion✨)

If you want more rambling or tips or whatever, as you can see i really love to talk about it, so feel free to ask anything!!

i hope you have fun with the game, once you get it! It's a great christmas present in my opinion, you can have hundreds of hours of fun with it xD (and please don't get discouraged if it is too hard at first, just keep trying and you'll get into it, as long as you dont give up! (and i can give you some beginner tips of what helped me when i started out, if u want) If you have seen others play it and liked what you saw, then you'll like playing it too i'm sure!)

#mine #anon #ask #project zomboid #pz #i just cannot shut up about this game lol

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voidsdamned · 11 months ago

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Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Fifteen

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: the usual swearing, descriptions of injuries, drinking, and sweetness -which is to say, Rue loves on the Ghoul the way she's been wanting to.

Enjoy <3

Chapter Fifteen: Come Alive

Rue stopped thinking when she remembered Artie –everything. She’s rotten at it, and it never does anything but dig her into deeper pits. She’s operating purely by feel, leaning heavily into spur of the moment inclinations more so than she usually does. And so, she didn’t even think about the fact that any of the injured, burning boys from Deck’s house would end up in her sick room. It didn’t cross her mind that pretty much all of Dust would wake up and start swarming like ants, trying to put out the fire. Trying to help. Trying to figure out what happened.

Those in the house don’t currently have any answers. They aren’t in the state where crisp, clear thinking is possible.

Most were out drinking, but Lucky, Yannis, Guzman, Myers, and some nameless man were snoozing away when disaster struck. Lucky is soot-stained, minorly burned, and quietly staring into nothing. Guzman –who always looks sunburned– is just a bit toastier than normal, but he’s coughing like his throat’s been scorched. Yannis is extra crispy, body more burn than whole flesh. Myers is dead, and Rue doesn’t know if they brought him down here dead or if he passed while they were carting him and they didn’t notice. But he’s definitely dead, glassy-eyed and cooling –from smoke inhalation, maybe? Physically, he’s in pretty okay shape –a little sooty and red here and there– so, it has to be something on the inside. But that’s beyond Rue. So is the nameless man’s condition. His left leg is flattened, dangly, and weird; and Guzman just barely manages to cough out, “Beam fell on him,” to let Doc Nguyen know why.

The good doctor is grim for the beat of the heart, but then slips into the straight-faced professionalism she’s known for. She orders everyone –exempting Rue and those injured– out of the room and instructs Rue to tend to Lucky and Guzman while she works on Yannis and No-Name.

Rue does what she can, taking in the destruction she wrought up close. She wipes the soot off an exhausted Lucky, rubbing aloe on minor burns, and does the same for Guzman. She gives them both water to drink, and then watches a Stimpak do the best it can to heal Yannis’ charred form, leaving him tight and shiny with burn scars but still bloody and raw in some places. She helps Nguyen move Myers’ dead body so No-Name can stretch out on the sickbed, and for a moment, she holds No-Name’s hand while Doc Nguyen puts him under. The leg must go.

Doc Nguyen pulls a privacy curtain closed, and Rue helps Lucky and Guzman from the room once the sawing and squelching, squishing sounds become too much for the two men to handle. She gets them settled in the front room, into saggy chairs with their feet kicked up. And they talk to Rue with bowed heads and shaky timbers, telling her they awoke to swirling red and heat. They have no idea what happened, and the last look Lucky took over his shoulder just showed a bonfire blazing on the hill. He doesn’t think there will be much left.

He’s right. When morning comes and Rue picks her way to her home, she sees blackened, skeletal remains smoking on the hill. One wouldn’t know a house used to stand there unless they were aware of its previous existence.

Rue breathes easier without it there, towering over her, and she goes about the mundane with a pep to her step. She does laundry for what is likely the last time. She feeds Eggshells, delighting in the fact that the bobcat lets her give it a few chin scratches that have it purring like a chainsaw. And after accidentally leaving the door wide open in all her back and forth with chores, she comes in at one point to find the bobcat perched all pretty on her kitchenette. It feels like a victory, but Rue mindfully doesn’t act like it’s a big deal. She lets Eggshells be.

She cleans her rifle, checking it over to see if it’s still in operating order, and it is –it even has a bullet in the chamber. She needs a helluva lot more than that, though…. She tunes Baby Destiny, playing a snippet of Some Enchanted Evening for Eggshells before stowing the instrument and packing the guitar case with a few clothing items. She empties out her over-the-shoulder bag of any useless junk and leaves it empty. It’ll be strictly for water, food items, and bullets.

When afternoon comes crawling in, Rue pauses in her work to allow Mrs. Ira Jean and Mrs. Rosa into her home for a dinner of tamales so delicious and flavourful –spicy– she nearly sheds tears. She keeps topics light, changing them when she has to, and does her best to keep both women laughing to keep them from questioning and worrying. And they both really are worried. Mrs. Ira Jean insists Rue come to her ranch, and Mrs. Rosa even chimes in, trying to tempt Rue with the promise of her cooking –breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day (and fuck, is it tempting).

Rue’s mind is made up, though. She can’t be swayed, she can't stay, and her answer is a, “Maybe soon,” that makes no promises. Then she pulls out a bottle of gin to distract them.

It works. The rest of the visit is all of stories and laughter, not another word of worry. When the two lovely ladies leave for the night, they do so with hugs and firm but kindly reminder from Mrs. Ira Jean that, “You’re welcome with us. Ya always will be. I’ll come runnin’ when you’re ready.”

And Rue, more than just a little bit tipsy, can’t help but say, “I love you lots, Mrs. Ira Jean.”

The rancher smiles as she kisses Rue on the hair. “I love you, too, honey.” She squeezes Rue’s shoulder before pulling away to step off the porch and take her wife’s hand. “You be good and careful.”

Rue promises she will (though, it feels like a bit of a lie) and bids them goodnight and safe travels, watching as they hit the road.

If she wasn’t more than a little drunk, Rue might snatch up her bag and hit the road, too.

But she really is, and she doesn’t plan on sobering up. No, she plans to finish the bottle and eat leftover tamales at dawn, and then she’s going to sleep until… midafternoon, probably. Then she’s taking what’s likely to be her last good bath for a while, and then she’ll hit the road.

So, Rue drinks. She spins around her home, bottle in hand and the radio playing too loud. She sings along with it, dancing when a song is meant for dancing. Disassociating when the music gets a bit too sentimental. At one point, Eggshells wanders back in (and she is leaving the door open for this express purpose now) and hops up on the kitchenette, watching Rue with yellow eyes of searing, heavy disapproval. But Rue doesn’t care. The Wanderer plays on the radio, driving her mood back up. She risks her physical wellbeing by shimmying up to the pretty kitty and scooping it up in one fell swoop.

And Eggshells is so fucking fluffy. So soft. And despite the hateful look it gives her, it purrs up a storm in her arms. Lets her give it a little kiss on its perfect, little head as she turns gently.

In the midst of that turn, as Rue briefly faces the front door, she notices that it had opened wider. Wide enough for death’s specter to post up, back pressing into the doorframe as he regards her in what is clear amusement. His ruined lips quirk with it, and goddamn, does Rue want to kiss death on the mouth.

“I always find you doin’ the dumbest shit.”

“I’m havin’ myself a good time,” Rue tells the Ghoul, matter-of-fact. “You’re just jealous it’s not you in my arms.”

He snorts, eyes rolling hard, and Rue finishes her spin, placing Eggshells neatly back onto the kitchenette before spinning her way towards the Ghoul. The music shifts, becoming Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of Blue Moon. She offers him a hand that he just stares at.

“Are you drunk?”

That offered hand turns into a fingergun. “Only a lil’.” And then it becomes a hand of beckoning. “Don’t break my heart, sugar.”

His eyes roll again. “How ‘bout I break that hand.”

Rue sweeps a little closer, holding out both. She looks up at him with a small, hopeful smile. “Just one dance? I won’t bother ya again.”

The Ghoul’s dark gaze ticks away, mouth pursing. He grumbles out, “You ain’t botherin’ me. I just… I don’t really do that anymore. Not in years.”

A soft sigh leaves Rue’s lips, and her hopeful hands curl inwards. They cross over her chest as she holds herself and whirls away. “I bet ya were smooth as silk on your feet…. I used to have a guy that’d spin me ‘round in the dark. He didn’t have the fanciest of footwork, but it was sweet he tried, y’know? That’s all that really mattered….” Her heart gives a sad, guilty twist. “I didn’t do right by the poor boy. I loved him, but I didn’t love him. I feel like I led him on in a way, dancin’ with him in the dark.”

Among other things….

Rue turns again, shooting the bounty hunter a sleepy smile. Dream softens everything around the edges, and she sighs. Rue loves their dynamic. She does. She doesn’t mind it’s all moonlight visits with ghosts of fondness –it’s fun; it’s what she wanted since she first saw him– but she’s hooked on something different now. On starlit nights where they just talk. On hearing him breathing –deep and even– from close by.

But she supposes they’ll just have to be what they are. Her something carnal –a good time– and he’ll just keep being the moons and stars that make her come alive. …Is that what she was to Bram? Are their rolls reversed now?

Rue sighs a third time. “Ya ever love someone who didn’t love ya back?”

“Lovin’ ain’t somethin’ I much fool with anymore.” But he pushes off the doorframe, catching her in the middle of a spin. She thumps against his chest, heart pounding away at her ribcage when one hand presses at the small of her back and the other captures one of her own. “You’re sentimental when you’re drunk.”

Rue grins wide. “Ain’t everyone? But I ain’t drunk-drunk. Just a lil’ tipsy. Perfectly in my right mind.”

“Nothin’ ‘bout your mind is right, honey.”

Rue makes a, “tsk,” sound but smiles brighter. “I saw that one comin’ the second that came out my mouth.”

He chuckles softly, finishing the turn with her and guiding her through small, gentle movements. “You always give me a good set up.”

The sound, the motion, makes Rue giddy and dizzy. “I like it when ya laugh,” comes dumbly from her lips.

“It’s hard not to laugh when you’re goofy as all shit.”

“I think that’s one of my most desirable traits,” Rue says factually. “Right behind my perky tits and winnin’ smile.”

The Ghoul gives a snorting, “Fuck’s sake, Rue,” as they glide into a moonbeam cutting across the floor. She only grins up at him, letting him get another look at that winning smile. And for a heartbeat, he’s got a handsome half-smile pinned on her.

But it drops off his face in the blink of an eye, replaced by a narrow-eyed intensity as he comes to an abrupt stop. As the hand that holds hers pulls away to brush lightly at the right side of her head. “What the fuck happened?”

“Oh, I got shot.” She’s nonchalant about it, shrugging her shoulders and trying to take his hand back, but he’s got her by the jaw now, turning her face so he can get a better look. “Sweet, it’s nothin’ that don’t happen to everyone out here. It was just my turn is all.”

His grip tightens, both the one on her jaw and the one at her back, fingers pressing into her spine. Which is actually kind of nice….

“Who the fuck shot you?”

Rue’s drifting mind comes back, finding his gaze sharper, darker. His jaw works. “Bounty hunter named Geraldine.”

He clicks his tongue, and there’s a grave simplicity to his query of, “She skip town or is she in lock-up?”

“Oh, she’s dead,” Rue comes out with it plainly. “I bashed her face in so good I knocked her nose bone into her brain.” And she lifts her hands to show him the remnants of her mental break. “Look. I split almost all my knuckles, and I dislocated three fingers. Ooh, and look.” She pulls down the collar of her blouse, letting him get a peek at the scar on her shoulder. “That one went through and through.”

The hand at her jaw slips away, ghosting against the scar. “Shit, that’s right by an artery.”

“That’s what Doc Nguyen said –the uh… the subclavian? Yeah, yeah. That sounds right.”

The Ghoul doesn’t say anything to that, his gaze just goes darker and darker. Burning and burning. His fingers slip more to the center of her neckline, pulling down the collar before he ultimately rips her blouse off to get a look at the bruising on her chest from where Geraldine hoofed her square between the tits. They’re yellowish, fading slow. Not the prettiest thing to look at.

Rue tries to joke, “Sweet, all ya had to do was ask, and I’d gladly take it off for ya.”

“Don’t be cute with me right now,” the Ghoul snaps. Rue has to swallow down her giggles and the shivers that try to rattle up and down her spine at such a… commanding tone. Such a scorching gaze….

But Rue goes quiet. She’s not cute at all. She just stands there in the moonlight, letting him inspect and swear and feeling just a little special that he’s bent out of shape. That he… that he cares.

“It’s really not that bad,” she tells him, unable to repress the shiver that goes through her when the smooth leather covering his thumb drags over the bruising on her left breast. She’s doubly sensitive –due to her nature and how tender the flesh is. “Honey, ya just told me I couldn’t be cute, and then you’re gonna go touchin’ like that? It ain’t fair.”

The Ghoul exhales sharply, hand pulling away and curling inwards into a fist that ultimately drops to his side. Rue debates on whether or not she should try to take it again. The mood feels pretty dead, and the radio’s gone to soft static.

“You ain’t hurt anywhere else?” he asks, still tight-jawed but his eyes aren’t half as stormy.

“My ass is a lil’ sore.”

He almost snorts, but he smothers it quick, shaking his head as he asks, “What happened?”

Rue gives him the shortened, easy version. She failed to avoid Geraldine in all her running around the saloon, and the bounty hunter took great offense. Rue’s brain took great offense to being pushed down and having a gun drawn on her, and… tackling, gunfire, and face bashing ensued. Followed quickly by a panicked Hal running Rue to Doc Nguyen.

He’s quiet with the knowledge for a moment before he says, a bit baffled and a bit amused, “It’s hard to imagine lil’, ol’ you doin’ any of that.”

“I keep tryin’ to tell ya I’m tough, but you just think I’m dumb and soft and spoiled.”

“’Cause you are.” And he flicks her on the nose. “It sounds like ya just got lucky.”

Rue almost flicks him right back but quickly remembers the absence on his face. She could poke him in there, but what if she poked his brain? …If she angled her head just right, could she see his brain?

“You got somethin’ weird goin’ on in there,” the Ghoul interrupts the line of thought, finger tapping on the left side of her head as he eyes her narrowly. “I can tell.”

“Nah.” Rue rubs her nose. “I’m just thinkin’ you oughta take me more seriously, considerin’ I can kill people with my bare hands.”

“It’s hard to take ya seriously when you don’t take nothin’ seriously,” he says it factually, the hands that fell away slowly coming back. One runs along the swell of her breasts while the other presses into the softness of her left side. “I can be threatenin’ ya physically, and all ya do is bat your eyes up at me and smile like I just told ya you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen since the world ended.”

Rue’s mind whirlwinds, body shaking in response to such small stimuli. She most certainly bats her eyes up at him. “I’m the prettiest thing you’ve seen since the world ended?”

The Ghoul’s lips wobble, fighting a smile and a laugh that ultimately come tumbling out of him. Rue basks in the sound, the sight, warm and bubbly with it. Her fingers want to trace the curves of his mouth, dance along the line of his jaw. She wants to feel the laughter on her skin….

“Hey, I know ya got a thing ‘bout it, but can I touch ya?” she asks him as suddenly as the urge struck her, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “With my hands? Please?”

Laughter ceases, so do those trailing touches. The Ghoul’s head tilts and those deep-whiskey eyes narrow. His tone is a touch hostile when he asks, “Whatcha mean I got a ‘thing’?”

Rue simply explains, “The times we’ve fooled ‘round, ya tied my hands, so I figured ya don’t like bein’ touched.”

The fingers that press at her side suddenly pinch, and Rue jumps, not quite able to stop the small yelp –though, it is more of surprise than pain. The Ghoul deflects, gaze averting. “Ya not into it or somethin’?”

Rue moves a little closer, head tilting until she’s back in his line of sight. She grins up at him. “Sweetheart, I am into it, but I wanna do some of that sweet, coddlin’ shit.”

The Ghoul glowers at her silently, but that grip at her side eases, turning into a flexing. A tip-tapping. A surprisingly gentle caress that is mirrored on her right side, pulling her flush.

All of these are very good signs, but he still hasn’t given his consent.

“Just a lil’ bit,” Rue pleads, voice like honey, saccharine and smooth. “Unless ya like it, and then I’ll do it lots.”

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling, and then sighs through his no-nose. “You get too handsy,” he grumbles, “and I’m cuttin’ ‘em off.”

“Fair.” Rue bounces, excited. “Can I kiss ya a bit?”

His petting hands rest firm as his head angles down. “A bit.”

And that’s an invitation if Rue’s ever seen one. She seizes it, her arms wrapping around his neck as she rises to the balls of her feet and seals the distance with a slow kiss that quickly becomes so hungry, so needful, on both their parts. The bounty hunter gets grabby, petting and squeezing, and the sounds Rue makes against and in his mouth earn her a groan from him.

She walks him back, knowing her bed is close, but he turns her around and pushes her back so that she hits the mattress first. Then he’s atop her, pushing her into the mattress and stealing the breath from her lungs with devouring, exploratory kisses. Rue lets him for a minute, responds to every touch; but eventually, she places a hand to his chest. She pushes against him, turning her face; his lips press against her cheek.

“Lemme be sweet to you.”

The Ghoul is quiet. Still.

“C’mon. Ya already agreed.”

His deep-set eyes roll. “I was just tryin’ to getcha in bed.”

“And I’m in bed, but I’m tryin’ to getcha out that duster. And vest. And shirt. And trousers. Boots.” She kisses the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

The gunslinger swears sharply, a yielding, “Goddammit.” He pulls back. “How… what…. Tell me what to do.”

Rue sits up. “Kick those boots off.”

She hears them thump to the floor, and the gloves she bids him to take off soon follow. And then she holds out her hand. “Hat.”

His eyes narrow. “The hat stays on.”

“Hat.”

Slowly, reluctantly, and eyeing her like he wants to slap her in the mouth, the Ghoul removes his hat and puts it at the foot of the bed.

That works just fine for Rue. “Put your gun down there, too.”

He makes a, “tch,” sound but complies.

“Bandolier.”

The Ghoul grumbles, ever grouchier, “I’m surprised y’know the fuckin’ word for it.”

Rue laughs. “We’re goin’ for sweetness, darlin’, remember?”

“Never said I’d be sweet –said you could.” Yet he dumps the bandolier, along with the rest of his accessories, at the foot of the bed. “That good, sweetheart? Or do I-?”

Rue shuts that snatchy tone up with a kiss, a hand touching his face ever so gently and drawing him towards her. “That was so good,” she murmurs, pulling back only to place a quick kiss to his mouth. A second that lingers slightly longer. “Thank ya.” The hand not skimming his jaw presses to his chest, softly guiding him to rest on his back.

The bounty hunter is reluctant to go down, catching himself on his elbows. Rue relents. She can work with this. She doesn’t want to make him too uncomfortable, and she can tell he is. Her touches have him stiffer and stiffer, his body a taught wire ready to snap –but not in that good, tensing way because something’s so sweet it just about hurts. It’s like he’s waiting for something to happen. To hit. To hurt. And that… that makes Rue sad for him.

She knows he must not get a lot of softness from people. Most folks barely tolerate Ghouls from what she’s seen, and it always burns her up. They’re the same people they were before radiation started picking them apart. They’re human. They deserve proper loving. Gentleness. Everyone needs it. Even Rue does despite her inclination towards rougher sex. It has to be tempered by some sugariness from time to time so she doesn’t forget, so she doesn’t harden to stone.

So, she’s patient. Her touches careful and slow so they don’t surprise him. She trails her fingers along the back of his head, his neck. Her other hand ghosts along his collar, dipping down for just the barest of grazes at his chest. She feels all his ridges, craters, and ruination. She shivers.

He shivers, the smallest, loveliest of groans rattling from him.

Rue’s smile is gentle, gaze half-lidded as she reaches for his hand. She takes it in her own and raises it to her face where she leans into it, ghosting her lips along his pulse as his rough fingers skim her face.

Wide-eyed shock. Disbelief. They transform the Ghoul’s face, softening all his hard edges and allowing her to see a different shade of him. Something hidden and soft and so wanting. His mouth parts slightly. Closes. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue but still says nothing. Rue kisses his palm, nuzzling his open hand. He keeps it there, holding it steady himself, caressing her of his own volition.

“Can I take your duster off?” she asks of him.

The Ghoul nods his assent, allowing her to guide him into a sitting position and remove the tattered thing. She repeats the process with the vest beneath: asking for permission and waiting for consent before removing another layer. And again when she comes to the faded blue and gold of the button-up beneath. She’s particularly slow about removing it –the last of his upper layers. She brushes the fabric down his shoulders, pressing her lips to the newly-revealed skin and unhurriedly pets his chest when he’s fully bared.

Withered but toned. Strong. Lovely. She admires him as she once more directs him onto his back.

He goes all the way down for her this time, back flush with the mattress and head landing upon a thin but good enough pillow. Rue persists with her slow, loving work: petting, kissing, trailing, rubbing, and simply lavishing him. She slowly crawls atop him, sitting back on his lap as she unhooks and discards her brassiere. Then she dips forward, pressing her chest to his, and the sigh that escapes him… it’s hitching, breathless, tailed by a moan.

Rue kisses his neck and mouth, smiling wide when his arms drape around her, drawing her tightly to him. The feel of his skin against hers is pure magic, almost sinful it’s so damn good. She prickles all over, limbs trembling. A soft, breathy sigh of pleasure leaves her lips, feathers against his, and his tongue flits across her mouth to taste it.

The bounty hunter shakes when she pulls back, but she hardly notices. Rue’s too intent on doing all the things she’s desired for what feels like forever. Her fingers press soft to his cheeks, trace his jaw. Her heart absolutely soars when those soft, whiskey eyes flutter and he leans into her touch. When his hands and arms move to pull her flush against him once more. One hand finds the small of her back; the other cradles the back of her head as he turns them on their sides.

He engulfs her, entwining their bodies. Rubbing her, kissing her, like no other has in the entirety of her life. So deep, needful, and longing –as if he’s starving. Like he’s been craving what she has offered all his life, and now that he’s had a taste… well, there’s no stopping what she started.

Rue moves with him, grasping him just as dearly, wrapping herself up in him. She only stops to coax him out of his trousers, and he doesn’t need much prodding at this point. He readily comes out of them and his underwear –he’s insistent in getting her out of her skirt and panties– and then he immediately pulls her back into his embrace with a rough, breathless, “Come back here.”

“I didn’t go nowhere,” she says with soft laughter promptly stolen away by the most fervent French-kissing she’s experienced to date. There’s not an inch of her mouth left untouched. Not a single breath he doesn’t devour.

Rue’s on cloud nine. Fuzzy, dizzy, and drunk on more than just gin. Her whole world is bright, soft, and humming. Singing when those rough hands being so sweet touch her in a similar fashion as to how she touched him. Skimming. Careful. Exploratory. Then threatening her sanity when one hand winds lower to be just a little harsh with her. It’s nirvana combined with the tenderness of everything else, especially when gets to fucking her with his fingers, slow and purposeful.

She reaches for him, feeling him in her hands for the first time. His strong, firm shaft with all its ridges and length. She pumps him experimentally, smiling bright when the Ghoul groans into her neck.

“You’ve got such soft hands,” he tells her, lips dragging along her shoulder. “Such soft everything. Fuck.”

“Told ya the first time ya shoulda let me use ‘em.”

“Hush,” he mumbles against her skin. “You can use ‘em now.”

A panting, teasing, “Ya sure?”

He bites her pulse, not as rough as she has come to expect of him but still enough to make her breath catch in her throat and her toes curl. “All ya do is fuckin’ tease.”

“I do much, much more than that.” She continues to stroke him as she hooks a leg around his waist. Her free hand draws his face from her neck, cupping his cheek and jaw, and pulls him in for sugary, slow, greedy kisses. “I give ya every bit of me, every time. I think I deserve to be a lil’ cute ‘bout it.”

Rue guides him into her –initially. Once he figures out what she’s doing, he handles the rest, pressing slowly into her. Sparks and shivers go up and down Rue’s spine until she’s full to the brim with him.

“Ya fit so good,” she mumbles against his lips, peppering him with small kisses. “I wanna feel you behind my eyes.”

The Ghoul moans into her mouth, an arm wedging beneath the leg she has hooked around him so it rests in the crook of his elbow. He hikes her leg up; he sinks in deeper.

Rue’s entirety lights up, unravels. She gasps and grasps at him, fingernails skimming his neck and the back of his head. His hips pull back, pressing in slow and deep again. She pleads for that –as much of that as he can give her.

“Know I shouldn’t spoil ya, but fuck, when ya ask so sweet….” Another pull back; another slow, dragging, firm press that has Rue whimpering. “Ya got a dangerous mouth, darlin’.”

“Ya got a… a mind-n-numbin’ s-stroke and a drawl –ah, mh, please, please. It’s so good. You’re so good. S…sugar, just the sound of ya makes me wet.” The gunslinger groans; Rue’s eyes roll at another toe-curling push of his hips into hers. “Kiss me more. I –mmhm– I don’t wanna breathe.”

The Ghoul eats her up, his hold on her tightening and his lips melding with hers. Hot and molten. Tongue trailing, consuming every sound and plea and praise. All she can see are stars. Her heartbeat and his growls fill her head. She’s melting slow. She’s spinning on an edge.

“This sweet enough for ya?” the Ghoul asks, lips stilling just long enough for her to pull in a breath of air.

“S-so sweet. You’re l…like honey.”

A chuckle rumbles out of him. It makes her warm and dizzy.

“Lemme ride ya. I can be honey, too.”

“You’re more like caramel.” The bounty hunter flips them, exposing Rue’s back to the mild air and moonglow. She shakily drags herself upright.

“Caramel?” She’s never heard of it.

He nods, hands running roughly up and down her thighs. It’s what you get when ya cook sugar, add some butter and cream to it. It’s sweet and warm.” Those calloused hands travel up, gripping her waist and pulling her forward. Rue gasps and quivers at the circles he rubs into her skin. “It gets stuck in your teeth.”

“Fuck.” Rue’s hips roll without her permission, hooded eyes watching as the Ghoul’s head falls back on the pillows. “Ya make it sound so sexy….” Her eyes trace his throat, intently watching the way it bobs when he swallows thick. Something so simple makes her ludicrously wet, ravenous. She dips forward, pressing her chest to his and kissing her way up the column of his throat, along his jaw. Then she holds his face to kiss him dumb and breathless.

She rides him, doing everything she knows to undo him. Her hips roll or grind. She bounces upon the ridged length of him. She pulls back so she can watch him watch her, to see the fixation of his whiskey eyes as she musses her hair or touches her breasts (she also hits her sweet spot a tick better in the upright position). When he reaches for her, when his rough fingers trail against her pert breasts or rub against her clit, Rue forgets everything. Her name. Who she is. Every awful thing that’s ever happened to her.

There’s only the Ghoul. The feel of him inside her, of his ruined skin along the soft, no-longer so pristineness of hers. The sweep of his eyes, the heat of them. The curve of his lips and the praise and roughness that slip from them. And when his arms loop around her, pulling her flush to his chest, she wants to sink into him. To feel the strength and heat and coarseness until… until she’s really okay again. Not masking or stomping things down into the pit of her.

He makes her feel okay again, and goddammit, she must make sure he feels amazing.

She focuses on his pleasure, on meeting his upward strokes and finding his lips when they are wanting. She listens to the quick hitching of his breath, her name breathed like a prayer. She feels his trembles. Tremors. Quick, unsteady snaps of his hips.

“Come on, sweet, fill me up,” she bids, voice husky. A purr. “I’ll be right there with ya. I’m s-so close.”

“Then take it, darlin’.” His hips drive up hard. He holds her down firm, and for a moment, she swears he’s behind her eyes. And the thumb of his right hand mercilessly rubs her clit. The jolt. The pressure. The pleasure. The deep hit and warmth flooding her core. His growling, rasping praise of, “You’re such a good girl. Takin’ it. Lovin’ it. Show me how much you love it.”

It’s a sucker-punch of divinity. Everything she wants. Everything she needs. Sweet, sharp, hot, and molten. Dragging on, coaxed further, with gentler touches that take absolutely everything out of her. Make her so weak and flimsy that she goes to the bounty hunter’s chest. She’s waves of pleasure. Aftershocks. Starbursts and soda bubbles.

When it subsides, she’s a quivering mess, every particle of her shiny and new and tender. His arms around her are almost too much, but it’s all she wants. So are those lips that press to her hair, speaking her name gently. Laughing at the dumb, drooling puddle of idiot that she is.

“Ya called me a good girl,” she mumbles against the warmth of him, “and I ‘bout blacked out.”

The gunslinger laughs louder, and Rue smiles so bright she could probably light the room. Maybe the planet. Fuck the sun.

“You’re a mess.” But it’s said so fondly, accompanied by the sweep of his hand through her hair before it trails down her jaw. Tips her chin up so that she looks at him. “But you are such a good girl.”

Rue about spasms, whimpering again. Shaking from her head to her toes when a thumb brushes across her bottom lip. She immediately sucks upon it, bringing a soft swear from him. A jump from down below where he’s still sheathed within her.

On unsteady arms, Rue pushes herself back up. She finds her breath and one or two pieces of her sense. She doesn’t need them all, not for this. The goal is for him to be senseless and fucked-out. She wants him to be a quivering puddle beneath her.

“Well, don’t you look serious,” the Ghoul’s tone is teasing, curious, as he pets her. He props himself up just close enough to kiss. “What’s that face about?”

“Shh, darlin’,” Rue says softly, taking his face into her hands and brushing her lips against his. “I ain’t finished takin’ care of you yet.”

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