#Redemption: A Mile from Hell

[thedogowesmyfriendmoney]

Early Halloween video. Enjoy my middle school brain rot: Stephen King. I included as many of his works as I could, even Graveyard shift. Will upload a video with all the titles later.

[july-19th-club]

favorite type of villanous characters are the ones whose motivations boil down to

like they dont even have to have any stakes in the broader situation. they just have take pleasure in destruction

[gullemec]

Cowboy Clean

A Red Dead Redemption One-Shot

main masterlist ao3

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Summary: Arthur Morgan has been a thorn in your side from the moment you met him. Things come to a head when you find out he's decided to treat himself to a deluxe bath in Valentine.

Warnings: rivals to lovers, lots of bickering/banter, reader gets covered in horse shit lol, jealousy/possessiveness, vaginal fingering, brief hand job, unprotected PIV sex, creampie, fluffy fluff

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.9k

A/N: So uhhhh I did this! I have a bunch of ideas percolating for an Arthur Morgan x reader series but that's a long way off and and I couldn't get this scene out of my head. Enjoy!

You scoop a handful of cold river water to your chest, the sting of it smarting like a snakebite against your already chilled body. It washes away the last traces of lye soap, though you’re not sure what’s worse, the stink of sweat and horse dung, or the way this damn water has you shaking like a leaf. Gooseflesh blooms a constellation across your skin, a shiver coursing down your spine as the current tugs at your ankles. The sun’s trying its best, but it’s still late April, and the wind cuts through the cotton of your wet chemise like it ain’t even there.

You can just about hear Miss Grimshaw’s voice now, all iron and vinegar, barking from the top of the hill the moment you make your way back up to camp. 

“You fixin’ to catch your death out there?” she’ll snap. “Or are you just plain stupid?” 

Probably both, by her standards. Of course, she'd hollered at you just the same when you came slogging into camp earlier, half-covered in horse shit. You reckon she’s gonna have to choose her battles one of these days.

You’d been out hunting with Charles, trying to put some meat on the table for the rest of them sorry bastards, not that anyone seemed to notice, or care. He'd spotted a wild boar off the ridge, and you’d notched your bow in a heartbeat, drawing for a clean shot. But just as you exhaled and your fingers twitched to release the arrow, a damn squirrel went skittering across the trail, spooking your horse.

Freya’s new. Barely saddle-broke and ornery as all hell. You paid too much for her, and you knew it the moment you led her out of that stable in Valentine. But by the time she bucked you off and sent you flying into a heap of her still warm droppings, you were certain of it.

Charles, bless his soul, bit his tongue and helped you to your feet without so much as a snort. The same cannot be said for the rest of the camp. Especially not him .

Arthur Morgan.

That man’s been a burr under your saddle since the day you met, both trying to rob the same stagecoach. 

You remember it like it was yesterday. Your shotgun drawn, face half-shaded by a wide-brimmed hat and red bandana pulled up over your nose, the hooves of your horse kicking up dust as you charged after the coach on the road to Emerald Ranch.

You were closing in when another rider came up fast from behind, his horse just a touch quicker, his draw just a little surer. You glanced over your shoulder and met his eyes. Cold blue, sharp as a whetted blade. You both hesitated, long enough to share a breath and a heartbeat. And then the coachman, scared stiff, dove from his seat and hit the dirt.

You didn’t think, you just moved. Leapt from your horse and landed hard on the driver’s bench, barely a second before the man vaulted up beside you.

You spent the next half-mile bickering at each other something awful, shouting over the clatter of wheels and hooves.

“I saw it first!”

“Hell you did, I pulled on the coachman!”

“Don’t matter none. I got on first!”

By the time you realized your horses were long gone and the stage had made it halfway to Emerald Ranch, it was too late to figure who won. All you knew was that you hated him then. You hate him only a little less now.

Eventually, the two of you reached a compromise, if you could even call it that. Neither of you walked away pleased. You split the money clip down the middle, argued over every last coin. The bag of jewelry you divvied up piece by piece, squinting at each item like it might whisper its value if stared at long enough. You got the short end of the stick with the ammo, but figured it wasn’t worth drawing steel over. Besides, you had your pride, and pride don’t need reloadin’.

By the time you trudged back to the spot outside Valentine where your horses were meant to be waiting, only his remained.

That goddamn, good-for-nothing, swaybacked old Thoroughbred. You could’ve screamed. Might’ve, if you weren’t so damn winded from the ride and the day and the company.

You’d spent the last hour wanting to shove his bandana into his smart mouth and shut him the hell up, but to your surprise, he didn’t ride off and leave you stranded. Could’ve. Should’ve, maybe, if he’d had any sense. But instead, Arthur Morgan looked at you all quiet-like, eyes narrowed against the setting sun, then offered his hand like it weren’t nothing.

"Need a lift?"

You didn’t answer at first. Just stared at him, all suspicious, like maybe this was some elaborate scheme to gloat from a better angle. But he didn’t push. Just waited. Eventually you took his hand, scowling all the while, and he helped you onto the back of the old mount like a gentleman might. You felt ridiculous, perched behind him, clutching his coat like some damsel, your pride hitching in your throat.

“You got someplace to be?” he asked after a while, almost reluctant.

You didn’t. Not really. Not anymore.

“I ride with a gang,” he said. “A group, more like. We move around some. You could stay a day or two, if you wanted. Won’t twist your arm.”

You’d said yes, figuring you’d stay long enough to steal something worth your trouble. Just a few days. A week, tops.

That was months ago.

Arthur Morgan had offered you a lifeline that day. But damn if he wasn’t also a splinter under your nail. 

Maybe it was lingering resentment from your initial meeting, both of you too stubborn to admit who had the better claim. . Maybe it was because Dutch and the others took a liking to you faster than they did him on some days, tossing you jobs that might’ve gone his way. Maybe it was the time you dumped a bucket of freezing creek water on his head after he kept you up all night snoring like a dying grizzly the night before a risky holdup. 

Or maybe it was just the way things always turned to sparks and spitfire when you were in each other’s orbit for more than five minutes.

Dutch called it friendly competition , like that explained anything.

Hosea just shook his head and muttered that y’all were worse than Sadie and Pearson. And considering Sadie once threatened to scalp Pearson with a fish knife, that said plenty.

But the real nail in the coffin came just this morning.

You came riding back into camp, soaked with sweat, your shirt covered in brown stains thanks to Freya bucking you off of her. Your hair was a frizzy mess beneath your hat, and you smelled like the inside of a stable.

You barely had a foot out of the stirrup before you heard him.

Arthur was leaned up against a barrel near the fire, sharpening his knife and grinning like the devil come to dinner.

��Well, I always knew you was full of shit,” he drawled, loud enough to draw half the camp’s attention. “Guess now I know it for sure.”

The laughter that followed echoed like a buckshot.

You were halfway off Freya, shit-streaked and murder-eyed, when Charles stepped in. One arm looped around your middle, lifting you clean off the ground before your knuckles could connect with Arthur’s smug jaw.

“Easy now,” Charles murmured. “Ain’t worth getting blood on your boots.”

You kicked and cursed, and Arthur laughed harder, but you caught the flicker in his eyes when he met yours, something resembling apologetic. Like he knew he’d crossed a line, but couldn’t help stepping over it anyway. Like maybe he liked the look on your face when you were mad, wild-eyed and burning with fire.

You suppose that’s part of the reason you’re down here in this freezing river, scrubbing away the scent of horse and humiliation from your skin, and the memory of his eyes from your mind.

But the water’s cold, the sun’s sinking low, and some things aren’t so easy to scrub out.

Not the dirt.

Not the grudges.

And sure as hell not Arthur Morgan.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Headin’ into Valentine,” Arthur’s voice booms across camp like a gruff church bell, startling you from the cusp of a cat nap. You jerk upright with a grunt, blinking against the brightness bleeding through the canvas of your tent. “Anyone need anythin’?”

You groan and flop back down, curling in tighter against the bedroll. The sun’s baked the canvas just enough to make the little space feel like a warm cocoon, and for a blissful second, you debate pretending you didn’t hear him.

But then, unfortunately, you catch a whiff of yourself.

You wrinkle your nose.

You’d done what you could yesterday. Scrubbed up in the river, fought a losing battle with lye soap and a patch of muddy shoreline. But nature only gets you so far. And you’re starting to smell like Freya after a long ride in the rain.

Valentine has baths. Warm ones. With those fancy, perfumed soaps Twenty-five cents for the kind of luxury that could make a girl feel halfway civilized again. That ain’t pocket change, not when you’d worked damn hard for every dollar you had. But it’s not a crime to treat yourself once in a while, is it?

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you heave a sigh and roll off your bedroll, string of curses muttered under breath as you shove your boots on.

You squint through the midday sun until you spot him, just across the way, pulling a saddle from the side of the wagon that serves as both a wall for his tent and the gang’s general dumping ground. His hat hangs low over his brow, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth like he was born with it there.

“Wait up,” you call, stumbling as your foot catches in the tent flap. “I’m comin’ with ya.”

Arthur doesn’t even turn fully around, just casts a lazy glance over his shoulder and squints. “What business you got in Valentine?”

You roll your eyes and march past him, grabbing Freya’s saddle from where it’s resting near the hitching post. “I could ask you the same, Mr. Morgan.”

“I asked first,” he replies, that damn smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth like it’s got a life of its own.

“If you must know, I’m in dire need of a hot bath.” You toss the saddle onto Freya’s back with a dramatic huff. “Some of us like to smell better than Pearson’s two-day-old possum stew once in a while. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Arthur snorts, adjusting the cinch on his own saddle. “Is that what this is about? You ridin’ all the way into town just to waste money on soap and water?”

You pause to glare at him over Freya’s back. “I ain’t wastin’ it. I’m investin’ in public health.”

“Uh huh.” He squints at you, cocking his head. “Or maybe you’re plannin’ to go courtin’ some poor soul in Valentine. That it?”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I ain’t.” You adjust your hat and shoot him a grin that’s all teeth. “Why? You jealous?”

Arthur barks out a laugh, short and sharp. “Of the poor bastard dumb enough to fall for a lady such as yourself?” He pauses. “Assuming I can even call you a lady.”

You haul yourself into the saddle with a grunt, lean forward, and scratch Freya’s ears. “Just for that, Arthur Morgan, I’ll replace your soap with a bar of caked horse shit. See if you even notice the difference.”

He swings up onto his horse with the ease of a man who’s done it a thousand times, shaking his head. “You try that, and I’ll throw you in the river myself. Clothes and all.”

You click your tongue and nudge Freya forward, falling into pace beside him as the two of you ride out of camp. “You’d miss me the moment I was gone,” you say, voice light.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he drawls, but there’s no bite to it. In fact, that shit-eating grin’s been plastered on his face since the moment you came scrambling out of your tent.

You glance sideways at him, watching the way he shakes his head and laughs to himself like he don’t quite know what to make of you half the time. If you had to guess, you might be so bold as to say Arthur Morgan enjoys your company just as much as it irritates him.

And if you had a little whiskey in your belly and the moon was high, you might even admit you feel the same.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The ride into Valentine is as dusty, loud, and as unpleasant as the town itself. Chickens squawk. Mud squelches under wagon wheels. Some poor bastard’s getting screamed at by his wife outside the general store. The whole place smells like manure and moonshine and cheap tobacco.

Arthur reins in his horse outside the hotel and spits into the dirt, scanning the street like he’s already regretting bringing you along.

“Well,” he mutters, climbing down from his saddle. “Here we are. The height of civilization.”

You dismount Freya and toss her reins over the hitching post. “Astute observation, Morgan. Next thing I know, you’ll be makin’ sketches of the saloon piss bucket in that journal of yours.”

He gives you a sidelong look, lip twitching. “Only if you’re the one cleanin’ it out.”

You hum as you dust your trousers off. “Lovely. Maybe I will find someone better suited to my delicate nature while I’m in there.” You gesture toward the hotel. “Someone who smells less like cigarettes and horse sweat.”

Arthur snorts. “Best of luck to you. Now go get your damn bath before you scare the locals off.”

You’re halfway up the hotel steps when you pause, glancing back at him. He’s lighting another cigarette, already looking like he’s halfway to leaving you behind.

“You sure you don’t need a bath yourself?”

“Nah,” he says, taking a drag. “Got a few things to take care of. Heard about a bounty at the Sheriff's. Might visit the gunsmith, maybe the post office.”

You raise a brow. “You writin’ letters now? That’s sweet. Didn’t know you had a pen pal.”

He grins around his cigarette. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You lean one hip against a porch post and shrug, a smug little smile curling your lips. “And yet you keep lettin’ me accompany you places. Kinda gives the impression you enjoy it.”

Arthur flicks his ash into the dirt and shakes his head, chuckling low under his breath. “Get in there, trouble.”

You tip your hat at him and push the door open, letting it swing shut behind you. The wood creaks under your boots as you cross the lobby, already imagining the feel of hot water and real soap, not the lye-smelling, skin-flaying blocks you’ve been stuck with as of late.

Still, as the hotel clerk hands you a key and points you toward the baths, you find yourself glancing back through the dusty window.

Arthur’s still outside. Still watching.

And when he catches you looking, he tips his hat just so.

Damn him.

You disappear down the hall before he can see you smile.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

This bath is worth every damn cent.

You sink into the water with a hiss, the heat prickling at your skin before settling into something delicious and divine. Your head falls back against the smooth curve of the deep tub, and you let your eyes flutter shut. The smell of campfire smoke and horse sweat linger in your hair, but now the sweet scent of rose and jasmine override them.

It’s quiet here. Too quiet, maybe. Without the constant chaos of living in a camp with twenty-odd other people. Without Arthur's gruff drawl, the barbs he throws your way any chance he gets.

You’d never admit it aloud, not even with a pistol to your head, but you’d spent most of the ride into town studying him. The way his shoulders moved when he rode, one arm slung back like second nature. How his forearms flexed when he adjusted the reins. That deep, lazy drawl of his when he leaned forward on his horse, whispering kindnesses to her.

That’s my girl.

It’s infuriating. The way he can be so damn irritating one moment and then have the gall to go and make flutters erupt in your belly like that.

You huff and dunk your head under the water, the heat blooming against your cheeks, muffling everything. When you resurface, hair slicked back and dripping, you reach for the bar of perfumed soap and lather up your arms.

You scrub harder than you need to.

Arthur Morgan. Thorn in your side, pain in your ass. And yet, somehow, unavoidable. Unignorable. He drives you up the wall but half the time you’d rather he pin you against it.

You shake your head, water flinging from your hair in fat droplets, and mutter under your breath. Get a hold of yourself.

Because it’s just a bath. Just a hot soak and some soap. You’re acting like it’s boiling you til you’re soft, all because the man has nice arms and talks to his horse the way you’d like him to talk to you.

You sink a little deeper, until the water brushes your chin.

… Still, you wonder what he’s doing now.

Probably leaned against the saloon bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, charming some barmaid with that half-smile he thinks makes him irresistible. 

That thought shoots irritation through you.

You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You sigh and let yourself sink again, only this time, it’s not to escape the heat. It’s to escape the thought of Arthur Morgan and the way he makes you feel like you're always one step away from either throttling him or kissing him.

The water cools quicker than you’d like, the heat leeching away in slow degrees until you’re forced to admit defeat. With a groan, you climb from the tub, water sluicing off your skin, and wrap yourself in a linen towel that’s coarser than you’d prefer but does the job just fine. You scrub yourself dry, watching the bathwater swirl in lazy circles, now a cloudy shade of brown.

“Twenty-five cents well spent,” you mutter to yourself, smirking as you step back into your clothes. Clean skin under worn fabric is a small luxury in this life, where comforts are few and far between.

You take your time on your way out, fingers trailing along the wood panelling, relishing the way the wooden floor doesn’t kick up dirt beneath your boots like the camp’s packed dirt ground always does. At the front desk, you offer a quiet thank-you to the clerk, prepared to wander the main street of Valentine in search of Arthur, maybe needle him some more if he’s still loitering near the general store.

But then the man behind the desk stops you with a polite smile.

“Oh, if you’re looking for the fella you came in with, he just went in for a bath himself.”

You blink.

And then stare at him like he just told you he had a live rattlesnake wearing a top hat under the desk.

Arthur Morgan? Paying for a hot bath? After all that teasing? All that ribbing about you getting dolled up for some suitor in town? You’d half expected to find him outside rolling around in horse dung just out of spite.

Before you can gather a proper retort, or perhaps go storming down the hallway to wring his smug neck, a soft creak on the stairs turns your head.

She appears like a mirage in the desert.

Rouge on her cheeks, hair curled and piled high, her corset cinched tight enough to give a man ideas. Her chemise hangs off one shoulder, strap slipping in a way that seems both accidental and entirely intentional. She’s soft and sultry, gliding down the stairs like an apparition.

Your mouth goes dry.

The desk clerk straightens a bit, his tone easy. “Hattie. Gentleman in room two. Deluxe.”

She smiles, slow and syrupy, a curl of smoke practically floating in her wake. “Let me have a quick smoke,” she purrs, glancing at you with a wink sharp enough to cut glass. “Then I’ll be right in.”

She turns on her heel and saunters toward the hallway, hips swaying with practiced ease.

You're rooted to the floor.

Your thoughts, however, go flying.

That rotten, no-good, two-faced son of a bitch.

After all that grief, after the wisecracks and smirks, the whole you plannin’ to go courtin’? nonsense, he turns right around and orders himself a deluxe bath with a woman like that waiting on him?

The sheer audacity.

Your ears burn so hot they might catch fire, and you barely register the front desk clerk blinking at you, a little wary now.

“Miss? You all right?”

“No!” you snap, sharper than a pistol crack. “No, I am not .”

And with that, you storm outside, the door slapping shut behind you as you step into the dust and heat of the street, fury rising like smoke from scorched earth.

Arthur Morgan is about to get his damn comeuppance.

You don’t pause to think, don’t stop to weigh propriety or pride. You just follow the scent of tobacco like a bloodhound on the trail, stomping down the narrow alleyway between the hotel and the bank, jaw clenched tight.

And there she is.

Hattie leans against the frame of the hotel’s back door, a cigarette perched daintily between two fingers, lips pursed around it as she puffs. She’s got the look of a woman who’s seen too much and lets even less surprise her, but she startles when she sees you approach..

You draw in a breath, tempering the fury that wants to lash out in all directions. It ain’t her fault she’s the kind of woman men pay to have bathe them.. It ain’t her fault men pay for warmth and softness in bathwater and bed alike. And it sure as hell ain’t her fault that today, of all damn days, Arthur Morgan just so happens to be her customer.

“Hattie,” you say like you’ve known her all your life, your tone smooth as whiskey left too long in the sun. “Enjoyin’ your cigarette?”

She straightens a bit, eyes scanning behind you as though there must be someone else you're talking to.

Then she catches the pistol on your hip, the pants in lieu of a skirt, the storm in your eyes.

“Miss, please,” she says, lifting one hand defensively, “I don’t want no trouble.”

You blink, realizing what she sees. What you must look like right now. Mad enough to spit nails, armed, wild-eyed.

“Oh, Lord no,” you say quickly, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Ain’t here to rob you.”

She softens only a little, still eyeing you like you might go feral at any second. “Alright then… what are you here for?”

You reach into your satchel, fingers brushing over flint, bullets, an old piece of jerky, until you finally fish out your coin purse.

“What’s a deluxe bath cost these days? Extra twenty-five cents?”

“Fifty,” she says, flat as a skillet.

“Good God,” you mutter under your breath, grimacing as you tug the purse open. She shoots you a look. “Not that you ain’t… Not that your services ain’t worth that much.”

She smirks at that.

You hold out a shiny silver dollar, letting it catch the sun between your fingers. “I’ll give you this if you let me go in that room instead. Room two, with the gentleman.”

She cocks her head, narrowing her eyes. “You plannin’ on robbin’ him ?”

You sigh. Lord, you almost wish that were the case. Would be easier than the truth.

“Somethin’ like that.”

She takes one long drag, ash glowing bright, and watches you as she exhales slow and thoughtful. Then she leans forward and plucks the coin from your fingers like she’s done it a thousand times before.

“Second door on the right,” she says, tucking the dollar into her bodice. “Don’t make too much noise, ‘less you want the fella at the front desk pokin’ his nose in.”

You nod, one foot already inside the threshold. “You’re a good woman, Hattie.”

“And you’re a strange one,” she calls after you, her chuckle trailing smoke.

You move through the corridor like a ghost, boots soundless on the wood, heart pounding louder than it ought to. The door looms before you, seeming larger now. Steam curls from beneath it, thick with the fragrant smell of rose and jasmine.

You raise your hand to knock, affecting your best, most sultry voice. “Need some help in there?”

A pause.

Then that voice, deep and unmistakably Arthur. “Come in.”

You turn the knob and step inside.

Steam fills the room like fog on a mountain pass, the glow of a small oil lamp, casting everything in a dim amber haze.

Truth be told, you didn’t have much of a plan. You’d stormed in here thinking about tossing a bucket of ice water in the tub or maybe snatching his clothes and leaving him to drip-dry in shame. But those half-formed ideas vanish the second your eyes land on him.

Because there, sunk low in the tub, arms sprawled along either side like a goddamn painting, is Arthur Morgan.

His head is tilted back, hair slicked down, eyes closed. He looks peaceful more serene than you’ve ever seen him. And damn it, he’s glowing . Skin golden and wet, a few scattered droplets clinging to the scruff on his jaw. You stare. You forget to be angry. You forget how to breathe.

Then his eyes open.

He blinks once, slow, and sits up just a bit. Water laps at his chest.

“What in the hell…”

And just like that, the fire under your ass lights right back up.

“Arthur Morgan, you are a damn liar,” you snap, stepping fully into the room and letting the door shut with a click behind you. “Told me you didn’t want a bath, but that ain’t what I’m seein’.”

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What’re you…”

“A deluxe bath, no less! That what brought you to Valentine? Didn’t want me gettin’ one ‘cause you didn’t wanna be caught playin’ cozy with some saloon girl?”

He tuts, jaw already tightening. “Now, how the hell’d you — ”

“I was there , Arthur! Stood right there when she got the order. Gave her a damn dollar to scram.”

That shuts him up. For a beat, anyway. Then his jaw works, and for a second, you think he might smile.

He leans back against the porcelain, eyes tracking over you slow. There’s a glint in them now, not teasing, exactly. It’s warmer than that, more curious. He’s not mad you’re here, just trying to parse why exactly.

“Well,” he says at last, drawl thick with steam, “you gonna stand there accusin’ me, or you plannin’ on helpin’ me wash?”

Your breath catches.

The steam clings to your skin, beads at your collarbone. Your shirt's damp at the edges, clinging to your arms. You should turn around. You should . But your feet don’t move.

But there he is, reclining in the tub like some damn river god, lips parted slightly, water beading along the muscled curve of his shoulders, sea blue eyes fixed on you. There was challenge in his voice, sure, but there was something softer too. 

“I’d like to get my money’s worth,” he says, softer now. “Reckon you would too.”

As if possessed by the steam and the knowledge that he is naked beneath the cloudy water, you cross the room and kneel beside him. 

He shifts, sitting forward just a bit. “Could use a hand with my back.”

And damn you if your heart doesn’t do a little flutter at that.

You reach for the cloth perched on the rim of the tub. Dip it into the water. Your fingers brush the edge of his shoulder as you begin to wash, and you feel it, that sharp little inhale he tries to hide. The tension under his skin.

Warm water runs down the ridges of his back, over scars and sun darkened skin. He exhales, head dropping forward, and for a moment it feels like the world gets very still.

“I didn’t… I didn’t rightly know what I was doin’,” you admit, voice small now, honest. “Just knew I was mad. Came up here all fired up, ready to start somethin’. And then I saw you sittin’ here, lookin’ like that, and…”

You trail off, cloth pausing over his spine.

He turns his head, gaze catching yours. “And?”

You swallow. “And I didn’t want some other woman’s hands on you.”

The shift is instant. His whole expression changes. Softens. Like he’d been waiting for you to say it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Maybe I don’t want that either.”

You scoff, but it comes out breathless. “Right. You paid extra for a deluxe bath ‘cause you didn’t want a woman touchin’ you. Makes perfect sense.”

His gaze flickers away. “I… hurt my back. Been tough reachin’ everything. Wanted to make sure it was done right.”

“Oh.” The irritation slips through your fingers like bathwater.

“Just wanted to smell nice, you know.”

“For who?” you ask, meaning it to sound playful, but it slips out softer than you intended. Barely a tease at all. “Plannin’ on courtin’ someone?”

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t speak for a long beat.

“For you. Wanted to smell nice for you.”

Your chest tightens. A slow, hot ache unfurls deep in your ribs.

You reach out before you even know you’re doing it, brushing damp hair back from his temple. He turns into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“I think about you all the time, Arthur,” you whisper. “More than I ought to.”

His eyes open. He searches your face, like he’s waiting for you to take it back.

But you don’t.

“Join me?” he asks, the words a little rough at the edges.

The hot ache in your ribs dives down to your core. 

You could make a joke. Could throw up that wall again, tease him about not wanting to dirty yourself soaking in his dirty water. But none of that feels right now, not here, not with him looking at you like that. Like you hung the moon.

You rise slowly, taking a step back from the tub. Your hands go to the buttons of your shirt, and though they tremble, you don’t stop. One by one, you undo them, each one a step closer to something you’ve only let yourself imagine in the quiet of night.

Arthur bows his head, eyes shut tight like if he doesn’t look, he can keep control of himself.

“You don’t have to look away,” you say softly. “I… I want you to look.”

His eyes open, and what you see there undoes you. Like he’s looking at something sacred.

When you slip your trousers off, you swear the air gets thicker. Your chemise clings to your skin, damp from the heat, and when you finally slide it off, there’s nothing between you and him but the steamy distance across the floor.

Bare in body and soul.

You step toward the tub. The water laps at your ankles first, hot and silken, and then you ease down slowly, legs folding to the side so you’re facing him. The tub is small, and your knees touch beneath the water. The heat of him seeps into you like sunlight through your canvas tent.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, just watches you. He looks at you like he’s never seen you before. Like he can’t quite believe you’re real. His gaze moves slow, respectful, reverent. 

Then he lifts a hand, wet and trembling, and cups your cheek with such tenderness it breaks something loose inside you. His thumb sweeps across your cheekbone, slow and reverent.

“Let me wash you, too,” he says thickly.

You huff a quiet breath, a smile tugging at your lips. “I just had a bath, Arthur.”

“I know,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Ain’t about gettin’ clean.”

You nod once. “I’m yours.”

You know Arthur is not used to being given things without a fight. Not used to things being his. But you figure you’ve given him enough hell at this point. And maybe you’ve been his this whole time, since the day you laid eyes on him from across that damn stagecoach.

Arthur shifts forward a little, the water sloshing gently around you. His hand slides from your cheek down to the curve of your jaw, then to your neck. His touch is careful, deliberate, like he’s memorizing you one inch at a time.

“You sure?” he asks all low, like gravel soaked in honey.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” you murmur.

He reaches for the washcloth, soaking it in the warm water and wringing it out slowly. You watch the way his hands move so gently, those rough and capable hands you’ve spent so long admiring wrapped around guns and knives and ropes.The way his chest rises and falls. It stirs something deep and aching in you.

He presses the cloth to your collarbone, dragging it gently across your skin. The heat of it makes you shiver, and his eyes flick to yours, gauging your reaction.

You don’t look away.

He trails the cloth over your shoulder, down the line of your arm, the curve of your elbow. When he reaches your wrist, he turns your hand over and kisses the inside of it, soft and slow.

“I ain’t ever done this before,” he admits. “Not like this. Not slow.”

You let your head tilt, watching him. “Then take your time.”

He does.

The cloth moves down your chest, careful, reverent. He doesn’t rush, not even when your breath hitches as he grazes the side of your breast. His hand lingers, trembling just a little, and his thumb moves over to graze across your nipple. You lean into his touch, soft peak pebbling under the pad of this thumb, and into the space between you that’s growing warmer with every breath.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with wonder. “More than I can make sense of.”

He dips the cloth again and brings it to your thigh, dragging it slowly upward. Your legs shift in the water, parting, an invitation unspoken but clear. His hand stills just above your knee, and he looks up at you, gaze searching.

“Can I?” he asks.

You nod, voice hardly a rasp. “Please.”

He slides the cloth higher, over your thigh, up the tender inside of it, so slow it makes you ache. You can’t hold back the soft sound that slips from your lips, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back, like he’s barely hanging on.

The cloth slips away, forgotten. He drops it over the edge of the tub, and both hands find your waist, drawing you gently toward him. The water shifts around you as you settle into his lap, straddling him, bare skin against bare skin beneath the surface. He’s warm everywhere, solid, a wall of hard-earned corded muscle beneath you.

You feel him, hard and hot beneath the water, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t grind against you or ask for more. He just holds you there, like this is enough. Like you are enough.

Your hands rise to his face, brushing the wet hair back again. “Arthur…”

He leans in, forehead pressing to yours. “You don’t gotta say nothin’. Just want to touch you. Feel you.”

But you want to say it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whisper. “Wanted you. ”

His breath shudders against your mouth, and then he kisses you.

Arthur Morgan is an outlaw, but when he presses his mouth to yours, you are certain he has only ever known tenderness. You are certain you have only ever known this feeling, of his body entangled with yours in a steaming bath, of being lulled into unreality by steam and the way he touches you.

It’s not hurried. It’s not rough. It’s deep, slow, devastating in the way it unravels you. His lips are soft, tasting of heat and longing. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to this moment, like if he lets go, he’ll drown.

You deepen the kiss, one hand slipping to the nape of his neck, the other drifting down, skimming over the swell of his chest. He groans low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, and his mouth moves to your jaw, your throat, kissing a line down to your collarbone. Then he’s pulling a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently before turning to give his attention to the other.

“I could die happy right now,” he breathes against your chest, pressing kisses there.

“You’re not gonna die,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. “Not tonight.”

Arthur’s mouth continues to lather both breasts in open mouthed kisses, warm breath ghosting over your skin, and you arch into him, your body asking for more even before your mind catches up.

He groans again, quiet and rough, as if your reaction undoes him.

One of his hands skims up your back, broad and calloused, fingers spreading wide as he holds you close. The other trails lower, slow and steady beneath the waterline, tracing the curve of your hip. His palm slides over the swell of your thigh, and then inward, the pad of his thumb brushing just shy of where you ache for him most.

You gasp softly, breath hitching against his cheek. He stills, giving you space, giving you the chance to stop this, but you don’t want to stop. You need him to keep going.

You tilt your hips up in answer, pressing closer, your mouth brushing his ear. “Please, Arthur.”

That word, please , shatters whatever restraint he was clinging to.

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers tentative at first, but guided by your sharp inhale, your body’s silent instructions. He finds you slick, warm, already undone just from being close to him. His mouth finds yours again as he strokes you, slow and patient, like he’s learning every inch of you. Like he wants to remember exactly how to make you come undone so he can do it again and again.

He gathers your wetness on his thumb and guides it up to your clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles. His thick middle finger teases at your entrance, and he pulls back to look you in the eyes as he pushes in. You pout at the intrusion, a low whine escaping your lips. He pumps you a few times before adding another finger, and that’s when he knows he’s hit the sweet spot.

Your head falls to his shoulder, fingers digging into his back as he fucks you on his fingers. The water laps around you both, soft and rhythmic, masking the sounds of your breaths turning ragged, your gasps swallowed into the curve of his neck.

“You feel so good,” he mutters, heavy with awe. “So damn good…”

“Arthur,” you whine into his ear, his name never sounding so pure and yet so filthy. “Don’t stop, please.”

The pressure builds in you quickly, quicker than it ever has when you do this yourself, and in seconds you’re falling over the edge, fingers digging into his back, his name falling from your lips amid a string of muttered curses.

He pulls you back to look at you coming down, admiring his handiwork. He’d look smug if he weren’t so desirous, if his cock wasn’t painfully hard and resting inches from your still fluttering cunt.

Sensing this, you shift in his lap, seeking more of him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. His fingers still at your hip, holding you steady as you guide your hand between your bodies and wrap it around him, thick, hard, pulsing with need.

Arthur’s whole body shudders. His head drops back, jaw tight, like he’s trying to keep from losing it right then and there.

“You’re killin’ me, darlin’,” he rasps.

“Then don’t wait,” you whisper. “I don’t want gentle. I want you. All of you.”

He grits his teeth, his hands finding your waist again, gripping tight as he positions himself. You rise up a little, just enough to line yourself up, and then you sink down, slowly, inch by inch, until he’s seated deep inside you.

A broken sound, your name, slips from his throat, part growl, part prayer, and your head falls forward to rest against his, both of you shivering in the aftermath of your bodies connecting at the root.

He fills you perfectly. The stretch burns deliciously,  your bodies slotting together like they were always meant to. Like maybe this was written somewhere in the stars long before you ever crossed paths.

You begin to move first, slow, rocking your hips gently, savoring every drag of friction, every pulse of pleasure that builds in your core. Arthur’s hands roam everywhere, your back, your hips, your breasts, like he can’t decide where to settle because it’s all too much, too good, too real .

His mouth is everywhere too. Your tits, your neck, your shoulder, the curve of your jaw. He murmurs things you can barely make out between gasps.

So beautiful, can’t believe you’re mine, I got you, I got you.

You find a rhythm, the water sloshing gently with each movement, and your bodies fall into a perfect, desperate cadence, like a prayer whispered back and forth, over and over.

When it starts to crest, when the pressure builds and coils tight, you bury your face in his neck, your moan muffled against his skin.

You feel it again, that pressure in your core, the pull that drags you into ecstasy. His cock seated so deep inside you, his mouth lapping at your sensitive nipples, his fingers exploring every inch of you like he can’t possibly have enough of you flooding all of his senses.

He feels it. Feels the way your walls flutter around him, the way your movements stutter. “That’s it,” he groans, hands gripping your hips harder, driving into you deeper now, chasing the edge right behind you. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

And you do.

It hits like a wave, sharp, sweet, overwhelming. Your body clenches around him, pleasure sparking down your spine as you cry out his name. He follows a breath later, hips jerking, breath  caught in his throat as he spills into you, hands trembling against your skin.

For a long moment, all you can do is breathe. The world narrows to the quiet splash of water and the warm weight of his forehead against yours.

Then Arthur lifts a hand to your face again, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod, a dazed little smile curling your lips. “Better than alright.”

He kisses you, slow and deep again, a promise sealed with steam and sweat.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You both linger in the tub longer than any paying customer probably ought to. 

The water's gone tepid, but neither of you seem to mind. Your fingers trail idle circles across his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing soothing beneath your palm. His nose brushes yours now and again, lazy little kisses shared between soft smiles.

Eventually, you shift, your legs tangling with his as you rest your chin atop his shoulder. “If we go back to camp now,” you murmur, all low and drowsy. “We'll wake everyone up ridin’ in.”

Arthur lets out a soft grunt of agreement, nuzzling into your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll keep ‘em up all night, too.”

You lift your head, feigning a scandalized gasp. “Arthur Morgan!”

“What?” he says, completely unbothered, though the crooked little grin tugging at his mouth gives him away. “You think I’m lettin’ you crawl back into your tent after that?”

You shake your head, hiding your smile. “What’ll the others say?”

“Don’t much care,” he says, sitting up, groaning as he stretches. “Think we earned a real bed tonight, though. What do you think?”

He climbs out first, grabbing a towel and then another, insisting on drying you off himself, all slow and careful. You dress in his flannel shirt draped over your shoulders, the hem brushing your thighs. Your chemise’s neckline peeks out where you didn’t bother buttoning all the way, your hair still dripping down your back..

You slip out into the hall together, Arthur’s hand low on your back, guiding you toward the front desk. The clerk is still there, chewing on a toothpick and flipping lazily through a tattered newspaper. He glances up as you approach and blinks.

Arthur clears his throat. “We’ll take a room. Just for the night.”

The clerk squints. “Weren’t you just in there for the deluxe bath?”

“Was,” Arthur says evenly. “Now I’m payin’ for a bed.”

The man frowns, glancing toward the back. “Where’s Hattie?”

Arthur raises a brow. “Didn’t need her, turns out.”

The clerk looks between the two of you, taking in the damp hair, the loosely buttoned clothes, the unmistakable glow of two people who just did a whole lot more than bathe. His cheeks redden and he hands over the key without a word.

You make it halfway up the stairs before you bite back a grin.

“So,” you murmur, tossing a glance over your shoulder at Arthur. “How’d you enjoy your deluxe bath?”

He smirks, deadpan. “Bit underwhelmin’. Tub was too small. No champagne. Woman wouldn’t stop talkin’.”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his as he catches up to you at the top of the stairs.

“Well at least you didn’t have to share it with a cowboy who dirtied your bathwater” you ask, playing along. “Maybe I’d have preferred your woman, seems awful sweet.”

“She was.” He pauses at the door, unlocking it. “Still talkin’ though.”

You scoff as he opens the door for you, stepping inside. “Ass.”

“Your ass,” he shoots back, swatting at your backside as he ushers you inside.

You don’t even make it under the covers before he’s got you in his arms again, falling back into the mattress with a satisfied grunt, taking you right along with him. You’re laughing as he pins you beneath him, one knee nudging your thigh as he brushes your hair off your face.

His gaze flickers lower, down to your collarbone. He dips his head there, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then inhales deep like he’s savoring you.

“You smell good,” he mutters against your skin.

You giggle. “Better than horse shit?”

He grins into your neck. “Oh, by miles.”

Then he nips playfully at your collarbone. “Still might have to take you back for another bath tomorrow. Just to be sure.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer with a teasing hum. “Well, if that’s the case… I suppose we better go for the deluxe again.”

And from the way he grins down at you, you’re certain he’s already plannin’ on it.

[gaysindistress]

Imagine Bucky with a partner who isn’t quite….right (pt. 2)

part one

“The Death will mark the end of Angelic peace within and thus will begin the reign of Chaos.”

A prophecy that has haunted me since she uttered the words.

A yellow eyed, wide mouthed demon with razor sharp claws and a sickening sweet voice relied it to me in a dream when i was only a few years old. I’d kept the words to myself in fear that i would be made into an example for consorting with demons. I’d swore to never tell another soul in fear that my life would be made into a mockery and i would wish for death to come. I’d condemned myself to a life of isolation and confinement so that no one would find out what the demon told me.

However promises cannot be kept for long when innocence and manipulation are at play.

I should’ve known that telling that boy would wind up with the town turning against me. He smiled so prettily at me as he took my hand in his and led me away from town. He knew what to say as he stroked my cheek and pushed my hair behind my ear. He guessed my reaction to a perfectly timed kiss to the corner of my lips with the promise of more. He knew how to get me to confess the words carved into my heart by the demon without me even knowing.

As he laid me down in the grass meadow miles behind the church and slid between my legs, he asked me to tell him all of the secrets I’ve never told a soul. His lips blazed a path of holy redemption down my neck and across my chest as Hell touched words spilled from mine. Faintly I could hear the crunching of grass and mutters of angry townsfolk but nothing could tear me away from the false sense of safety he gave me. His warmth left me when my final sin was confessed.

Disgust filled eyes bore down into me.

Sharp nails dug into my jaw bone.

Acidic spit burned my skin as he spewed his God’s teachings and condemned me for my transgressions.

Ancestral screams shredded my soul and throat as I tried to beg him to stop.

No tears found their way down my face, possibly the thing that solidified my fate in these people’s eyes.

For a moment as he pushed away from me as if the mere touch of my skin would soil his purity, I caught a glimpse of her.

Standing in between two pine trees, the creature that was responsible for all of this lurked and did nothing.

Hair wet with a black substance that smelled of all that is foul and vile was piled on top of her head in a haphazard manner. A few clumps of it fell around her face in a way that might’ve been conveyed innocence if it were anyone other than this yellow eyed abomination.

Her smile, lined with rows of dagger like teeth, stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone as she observed the scene before her.

“The Death, my child. The Death is upon us.”

“Chaos. You have to be Chaos,” the pale Asgardian gasped in admiration and astonishment after several moments of contemplation.

The golden haired one I’d come to know as Thor visibly shrunk away from me. Steve shared a look with Anthony. Dr. Banner’s head dropped to his tablet and he began to ferociously type away. Sam pulled a bewildered face and looked to Bucky for clarification but received nothing.

A smile, well a predator’s grin more like it, pulled at my lips. The familiar motion released a burst of vile delight that began to flood my mind.

A sudden rush of such twisted energy at the idea that he knew who I was proved to be more than my resolve could handle in that moment.

My cheeks began to ache in an effort to prevent it from reaching cheekbone to cheekbone. The sickening sensation of sticky mist pricked at my skin. The eye that the boy had cut out blurred for half a second, indicating that the facade of normality there faltered as I regained control of myself.

All of this was well observed by the pale Asgardian as he kept his eyes trained on me and waited for my answer.

“Must I be?” Is what all I could manage in a moment where I knew much else would result in a complete loss of control.

“Hesiod wrote that you were an endless void of nothingness in which the universe sprang from.”

Steve cleared his throat, possibly in hopes to distract everyone from realization of what I truly am. Sam kept quiet with the two scientists muttered amongst themselves about what Loki meant.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Thor’s hand twitch, no doubt willing his prized hammer to his side should he need it.

Bucky, from where he had been reading on the couch, chuckled under his breath and nodded in agreement.

“If only you knew.”

Such simplicity to his words. To his appraisal of both the Asgardian’s knowledge and his understanding of me.

Such simplicity to his underlying notions of me. To his feelings regarding me. To the love that he feels for me.

“And what do you think, Asgardian? Do you believe Hesoid? Am I an endless void of nothingness in which the universe sprang from?” I posed with a twitch of that demonic smile gracing my face.

A cold hand touched my lower back.

My name was called once, twice. Perhaps a third them before I turned to find Bucky at my side. His hand moved from my lower back to grasp my hip and draw in. He pressed a kiss to my ear before whispering, “let’s get you out of here.”

I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion when he pulled away. I went to ask him what he meant but the look of concern in his eyes stopped me short.

I only nodded in agreement and allowed him to bid our joint farewells so I could regain my composure. I cared not for the social rules that I broke as I slipped away and found the stairs where I waited for bucky to join me. Tendrils from the shadows surrounding me stretched and reached out until they could touch me. If you listened carefully, more often than not their nearly silent song could be heard.

“The Death has marked the end of Angelic peace within and thus has begun the reign of Chaos.”

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 4.5

Propaganda

Alice Dyer (The Magnus Protocol) (Boba Count: 3):

She's a funny witty girl that does a lot of sarcasm but actually cares a lot about her friends. Everyone in OIAR desires her carnally, it doesn't have to be canon to be true.

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion) (Boba Count: 1):

Madge propaganda from a show that had the pleasure of guesting with her! At the end of the day no matter how you squeeze or present it, a great character is a great character and Madge is the best by a mile. Wonderful one-liners, complex and layered relationships with everyone in the cast around her, a messy and real depiction of female sexuality (especially a lesbian!) that she is never punished or demeaned for, and all of this brought to life in a performance that could make a phone book fun. Look and you’ll see: Madge’s writing and acting speaks for itself!

#madge here #yes you have to choose #choosemadge #we need the points #much appreciated #very sincerely yours

Art of Alice courtesy of @auxilion.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Alice Dyer (The Magnus Protocol):

she's funny she's done with all this bullshit she teases her coworkers and is just a delight to listen to

Trans girl who flirts with everyone to cope with trauma what more could you want

#alice dyer you goose <3

#alice dyer 100%

#Never finished tmp but it's Alice 100% she's so

#alice sweep!!! #hell yeah

#ALICE DYER #MY WIFE

#ALICE SWEEP

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

Madge Stallion was submitted without propaganda.

we gotta get our girl some propaganda. she would hate it, but the mystery of it all is kinda part of the appeal here.

Madge stallion NEEDS no propaganda

Madge: so sexy she needs no propaganda

#madge stallion is a great woman to lose to

#Madge she's a sassy lesbian detective what else do you want

#madge stallion needs no propaganda #by virtue of being madge

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Raging lesbian in a lavender marriage

Seduced someone working for the enemy

Is just as chaotic and at time brain cell-less as her male companions

Loyal but still willing to call her friend since childhood out on his bullshit

She canonically fucks. Like in canon she fucks so much. See above about seducing the enemy and then pepper in her on again off again romance with Martha Hudson.

#madge propaganda time : #she will flirt with basically any girl she sees and oh she does it so well #also !!! she once flirted and got on with technically an enemy in the middle of a spying mission ???? #she went like 'oh sorry just gotta go to the loo' to go spy in the house got caught and flirted so well she 1/ got laid 2/ got information #3/ came back like nothing happened #with some motivation she could flirt and get a boner from a dead rock tbh #madge stallion IS THE SEXIEST

This is the woman who always has anything you might need in her bustle. Portable phonographs, certainly, but what else? Alcohol, without doubt. Knives? Probably. More knives? Wouldn't be surprised. Candy? Always good to have something to mollify Hampton with. More alcohol? Well, James can always do with a little nip. Another knife? Why not? Lockpick set? I mean, where do you keep yours?

#it's that time again #madge madge madge #she's earned it

#!!!!!

#home stretch

MADGE MADGE MADGEEEEE

[faun-the-fawn77]

"ֆɦɛ ӄɛɛքֆ ʍɛ ʊք"

Adam x F!Sinner!Reader

Genre: SMUTTY SMUT

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Whipped!Adam, OOC Adam, cunnilingus, nipple play, man-handling, creampie, a bit of orgasm denial, uhhh thats it? Idk what else to add...

Desc: When Adam was ordered to get intel on that stupid redemption hotel, he cursed Heaven. He hates Hell. He hates sinners. But... what happens when a tempting offer is introduced to him? And what if he wants more?

Note: My first time writing smut... oh boy... Let's hope this turns out good? Also Adam gets kinda...ooc? I feel like he's only kind and lovie towards his partner so... I tried with this one;(

She’s got me nervous

Talkin’ a hundred miles an hour

She’s more than worth it

I swear she smells just like a flower

I’d fall to pieces if I went anywhere without her

I love when she says, “What’s wrong with right here on the counter?”

A cloaked figure made their way through the streets of Pride. No one even glanced at the figure that was kicking rocks around and grumbling to themselves. Slipping into an alley, the figure leaned up against a brick wall of some building they didn’t catch the name of. Pulling their hood down to catch a breath of… air. 

Adam was done. He wanted to go back to Heaven and tell Sera to fuck off and do this herself if she wanted intel. He pulled out his golden cased phone and sent a message to Lute, his friend that helped keep him in check and lead the exorcist army. 

Heels clicked down the alley Adam was in. He quickly pulled his hood up but he wasn’t quick enough to hide his face from the demon that caught sight of him. 

“Well, I didn't know that angels were allowed down here. What’s up with you, handsome?” The voice was silky. Smooth like chocolate. Adam turned towards the voice and he choked on his own saliva. The demoness standing before him was beautiful. Her eyes lidded and a smirk played on her black stained lips. Her makeup was more on the goth side with black lipstick and dark colours for her eyes. Her outfit was what made Adam dart his golden eyes back up to her face. She wore a black mini skirt with fishnet tights, black heeled combat boots and a maroon crop top that showed more cleavage than what Adam was used to in Heaven.

“Like what you see, honey?” Adam was nervous. He was never the type to be nervous but something about this demoness made his heart beat irregularly and his stomach fill with thousands of butterflies. 

“I- uh- ye- yes… Wait n-” The unnamed demoness chuckled at his stuttering and strutted closer to him. She was a couple heads shorter than him so she had to look up to see his face.

“The names Y/N. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Adam.” Adam had no thoughts. No quip. No nothing to tell her. The smell of flowers, he didn’t know which ones, invaded his nose when she was closer. 

“You can’t be seen alone down here. Why don’t you come with me?” Y/N tilted her head as she smiled at him. Adam gulped and shakily nodded his head. Where was his brash and confident self? Why did he so easily fall for this temptress?

After getting to know her for a few days, Adam always showed up at her apartment to crash or hangout. He was still nervous around her and when she flirted with him, he lost all confidence to flirt back. 

Today was different. Today, Adam wanted to flirt with her. He’s been abstinent for a while and he assumed that if he just got intimate with her, then he would go back to normal and he could just ignore her. 

“Hello, handsome. How was scouting out the hotel today?” Y/N had her back towards him as she focused on making coffee. Adam stood without answering her. He silently walked towards her and when she was about to turn around to ask what was wrong, Adam trapped her between him and the counter.

“Let’s not talk about that. You look…so fucking hot today,” Adam growled out. Y/N had a smirk on her lips. She turned away from her coffee and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers finding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Are you gonna do something about it?” Adam felt his confidence shake a bit before he steeled himself. 

“Right here?”

“What’s wrong with right here on the counter?” She quipped. Adam smirked. He li- no- loved her. He loved what she did to him. 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Adam dove in and kissed her roughly. He heard her moan into the kiss and felt her fingers grip tightly on his hair. She was so, so delicious. He swiped his tongue across her plump bottom lip, asking for entrance. She granted him access and he pulled her hips closer to his as his tongue explored. 

This was so much better than any of those groupies he had up in Heaven. Actually, he was pretty sure this was Heaven. She tasted divine. 

He groaned into her mouth and gripped her hips tightly, humping his clothed dick into her pussy. The moan she let out almost made him cream his pants. He broke away from her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck. Her grip on his hair loosened as she began to run her lithe fingers through his hair.

“Adam…” Her breath was airy. Adam sucked on a spot that made her moan out. He attacked the spot for a few before he was satisfied that it would leave a mark. The first of many this night. 

Y/N tugged his head up and made him look her in the eyes, “Take your robe off.” Adam nodded and swiftly pulled his iconic robe off over his head, mussing up his already floppy hair. 

“Gorgeous…” Y/N breathed out. He watched as she reached out and ran her soft hands along his shoulders and down his pecks, stomach and to his pants. He knew he’s put on some weight since Eve. He was a bit self conscious but in this moment, Y/N made him feel anything but. 

“Kiss me.” And Adam did just that. He grabbed her hips, running his calloused hands up her waist and under her cropped shirt to cup her breasts. She had no bra on and he could feel the metal that pierced her nipples. He moaned loudly. He was the only one in Heaven with body modifications. Having a partner who also did? He was on cloud 9.

He brushed his thumbs over her pert nipples. She moaned loudly into the kiss and gripped his shoulders. He played with her tits for a few more seconds before pulling away and ripping her shirt off her. The pieces fell to the floor in piles of ripped fabrics. Adam pulled her in and trailed kisses from her lips, jaw, and down to her collar bone. He lowered to her breasts and finally started to lick and suck on her nipples, the piercings cold in his mouth. 

“Adam, please!” Y/N moaned loudly. She gripped onto the hair on the back of his head and pushed him closer to her breasts. Adam groaned and flicked the bud with his tongue and the other one he used his fingers to flick and pull. 

Adam pulled away and trailed more kisses down her stomach and stopped at the top of her shorts. He unbuttoned them and yanked them down. She went commando today. 

“My God, are you this wet only for me?” Adam brought a hand to her dripping pussy and ran a finger through her slit. She moaned out incoherent words, her grip tightening in his hair. He chuckled and leaned his face closer to her pussy, his breath causing her to shudder.

Adam stuck his tongue out, snapped his fingers, and his original gold tongue piercing was replaced with a vibrating one. He brought his mouth up to her pussy, licking a stripe from her entrance to her clit. 

Y/N’s knees buckled. Adam wrapped his arms under her and gripped her to lift her onto her counter. He spread her knees and dive right back in. 

“Oh Satan, Adam, please, more!” Adam hummed and the vibrations from his voice paired with the ones coming from the tongue piercing caused her to moan loud and voice out, “AH~ I’m cumming! Adam ple-”

Adam pulled away and licked his lips. His stubble and cheeks covered in her essence. He pulled his boxers down to reveal his erection. He could see Y/N drooling at the sight.

“Like what you see, gorgeous?” He threw her earlier words abc at her. She nodded and went to drop to her knees but Adam kept her on the counter.

“Later. Right now, I need my dick inside you.”

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

She Keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

The next morning, Adam stirred awake. He rubbed at his eyes and opened them slightly. He looked around and sat upright when he noticed that he wasn’t in his room. The walls here were painted a blood red with some devilish decorations around. 

Adam jumped when he turned and saw a figure under the blankets next to him. He sucked in a breath and carefully lifted the blankets off the figure's head to see who it was. He let out a breath when he saw it was just Y/N.

Wait.

Adam did a double take and his eyes widened. Oh no. No, no, no! This was NOT supposed to happen! He was sent here to see what Lucifer’s spawn was up to with that dumb hotel of hers! NOT to sleep with the scum of the Earth!

Adam tumbled out of bed, snapped his fingers to put his robe on, and raced out of the demoness’ apartment. He stumbled out onto the street and looked both ways to see if anyone saw him before he dipped into a nearby alley to get his cloak on and cover his face with the hood. 

“Oh my God, Lute and Sera are going to fucking kill me! He tried to call Lute but he cursed when he noticed his phone was dead. He about chucked it at the wall when a voice sounded from the entrance of the alley.

“Hey! Are you okay..? Ugh what am I doing…” The last part was muttered that Adam barely caught it. He looked towards the accented voice to see a tall spider-like demon dressed in the sluttiest outfit Adam has ever seen.

The spider demon stepped closer. The demon actually looked concerned which caught Adam off guard.

“Are ya alright there, toots? I don’t mean to intrude but ya look like you’re having a bad day. Was the one night stand that terrible?” Adam blinked. 

“W-what? One night stand..?” The demon nodded.

“Well ya raced outta that complex like your tail was on fire!” Adam almost dropped his phone then. This…thing, saw him come from Y/N’s apartment and he was concerned?

“What's it to you? Maybe the pussy just wasn’t good enough!” The spider demon looked at him and then burst out laughing.

“No way it wasn’t! The only decent female in that joint is one of my best friends!” Adam almost passed out at that information.

“Y/N, despite me being attracted to others, has the best pussy in town! Can definitely keep ya up all night!” 

Adam looked at the demon again and noticed something else. This was the one that Lucifer’s crotch demon presented at the hearing. The one that followed every point on his stupid list to get into Heaven. 

“I- uh… She was supposed to show me to some hotel but-”

“Ya mean the Hazbin Hotel? Of course she cared more about getting good dick than showing a sinner where to get redeemed or some bullshit. I’ll show ya!” The spider gestured for him to follow. Adam reluctantly did. He tucked his phone away and followed after the tall spider demon.

“The names Angel Dust, toots. What’s yours?”

“Edenis”

I need her so bad

Sometimes I thank that I can taste it

This evil romance

So good I never wanna waste it(Yeah)

I can’t trust my friends

‘Cause she’s what everybody chases

And I know where she’s been

‘Cause it’s on everybody’s faces

Come on

Adam made sure to keep his demonic disguise on at the hotel. He, unfortunately, fit right in as a “redeemable” monster with a brash attitude and vulgar tongue. He was introduced to everyone by that stupid princess. The only one he actually tolerated was Husk.

The day was going by slowly. Charlie had been planning a new exercise out with her girlfriend, Vaggie. Adam made sure to stay far away from her in case she somehow recognised him. Angel Dust was out with his friend, Cherri Bomb, and Sir Pentious was helping Nifty with the cleaning. 

Adam wandered over to the bar and sat down. Husk pulled out a dusty bottle of red wine. The first time Adam asked for a drink, Husk poured him a shot of whiskey. Adam took a sip before he gagged and slided the glass back to the cat demon and rudely asked for some “goddamn red wine!” Husk shot his eyebrows up before shrugging and digging around for the one bottle of wine they had. Husk made sure to keep in stock of it ever since.

“What’s wrong with you?” Husk asked nonchalantly. Adam sighed and leaned on the counter. 

“What if… you fell for someone that you weren’t supposed to?” Husk looked at Adam. Adam was looking down in his glass of wine with this sad look in his red and gold eyes.

“How bad do you want her?”

Adam looked up at the cat, “I need her so bad. Sometimes I… I think I can still taste it. Her lips.”

Husk hummed. He set down the glass he was cleaning and pulled out a deck of cards. He started laying out a game for him and Adam to play while they talked.

“Then why don’t you tell her instead of thinking about the ‘what if’s’? If you truly love someone that much then I’d tell them. Don’t make it a big thing for them. Make it simple. No one, not even that motherfucker up in the clouds, could stop someone from falling in love.” Adam was silent. He pondered over Husks’ words. 

“But what if it was love between an Angel and a Sinner?” Husk immediately stopped what he was doing and looked at Adam. Adam could feel the cat’s stare go right through him.

“Oh my- you gotta be fucking kidding me. Adam? The fir-” Adam slapped a gloved hand over the cat’s mouth and glared at him.

“Yes, you fucking scum! Now shut it before I rip your fucking tail and wings off you. You go blabbing to anyone and I’ll make sure we kill everyone in this stupid fucking shithole.” Husk glared and ripped Adam’s hand from his snout. 

“I won’t fucking say anything you prick! Satan almighty…” Husk grabbed a bottle of whisky and downed it.

Adam knew he was fucked now. How many others here are gonna see through his disguise? He couldn’t abandon this mission though.

“Who is it?” Adam perked up at Husk’s deep voice. 

“Who’s who?” Husk rolled his eyes.

“The demon you were talking about?” Adam paused. He glanced around to see if Angel Dust was anywhere near before he leaned a bit close.

“Y/N… Angel’s friend.” Husk choked. 

“Her? Damnit Adam! She’s been with, like, every demon in Pride! Doesn’t help that she’s an Overlord as well! Oh my Satan, you are so fucked.” 

Adam was stunned. He didn’t know how Hell worked but he was here long enough to know that Overlords were some of the most powerful in the Pride Ring. How come Y/N never mentioned that part of her? They used to talk for hours on end about their lives, both living and dead.

“Does that mean…she can’t be redeemed?”Adam was almost scared of the answer to that.

Husk looked at him. He sighed and set down his cards, “Look, Adam. If she wanted to be redeemed then she would be here. She has thousands of souls under her belt. She’s even more powerful than that smiling deer prick here,” Adam deflated at that but Husk wasn’t done, “But, if anyone can convince her to do good then I’m sure it’s you. From what I heard from Angel and you, she seems to be doing good things without realising it.”

Adam sat up and downed his drink before hopping off the stool. 

“I’ll be back! Tell Charlie some lie or whatever. I don’t fucking care.” 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to 

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

“Fuck, Adam. That was fucking amazing! No wonder you call yourself ‘Dick Master’.” Adam was lying beside her in her bed. He turned towards her and lifted a hand to brush away the hair from her eyes. She turned to look at him and he could see the confusion swirling in her clouded eyes.

“I…” Adam swallowed. This was it. 

“I love you, Y/N. Not because you’re a good lay but because you actually cared about how I felt when I would talk about my problems in Heaven. When we would have those talks before we got…intimate, it would be the best day of my life. Even Lute, that fucking bitch, noticed something from me.” Adam continued to pour his heart out to the one he loved. 

“I don’t want this to be a fuck and go. I want this as something more.” Adam was nervous again. He hoped he didn’t just ruin whatever this was with her.

“Adam…” Adam shut his eyes. He didn’t want to be rejected. Not for a third time in his long life.

“That was very sweet but… How am I to be with you if I cannot go to Heaven?” Adam sat up. He pulled her up by the shoulders and hugged her.

“I don’t wanna admit this but, that stupid hotel works. Charlie and everyone will help you. I’ll even come down and help or talk to Sera about sinners being redeemed! I just want you.” Adam hugged her tightly. He couldn’t believe she accepted him 

“I’ll go. Just for you.”

“Thank you…”

I never wanna have to slow down

Gotta be a better way to come down

I’ve gotta stay awake somehow

I never wanna have to slow down

Gotta be a better way to come down

I’ve gotta stay awake somehow

Y/N couldn’t keep quiet. Adam pounded into her pussy ruthlessly. Her moans were so loud that Adam had to use his powers to soundproof the room. He panted above her, gripping her wrists together above her head. He leaned down and trailed kisses down her neck.

“Adam! I-I’m close, please!” Adam growled. He ran a hand down her waist and towards her throbbing clit. His calloused fingers found the bud and started rubbing in circles. His lover’s voice got louder at the contact.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me! Show me how much you love this dick!” Y/N screamed as she gushed all around his dick. He moaned and drilled his hips into her a few more times before he released into her. He looked up at her flushed face and smiled. 

It’s been years since their first run-in with each other. Since then she’s been redeemed and now lives with him in Heaven. Her skin went from demonic to an angelic colour. Her horns were replaced with tiny wings and her tail was now rounded instead of pointed. She had giant wings on her back that glittered in the sun of Heaven. 

“I love you, Y/N” Adam lowered himself next to her and wrapped an arm around her stomach. Her stomach was bulged slightly, clear signs of pregnancy.

Y/N smiled at her lover and snuggled up to him. Adam recognised the flower now. Lily of the Valley. 

“You really keep me up, ya know that?” Adam murmured to her. Y/N giggled. 

“Of course I know that. You just can’t get enough of me~” Adam laughed. He knew he was whipped. Lute had scolded him for it when he would talk about his and Y/N’s love life. 

Adam never wanted to come down from this high that Y/N gave him. He wanted to stay like this forever if it meant having Y/N by his side for that long. 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

Oh boy idk if I like this one... Hopefully my Lucifer one is better! Sorry for not posting this yesterday but yesterday was hectic for me:(

I'm trying not to give descriptions to reader but I like the idea of reader having black lipstick on when its sinner reader. Idk im just weird:p

Hope you all enjoy!!🖤

[zuko-always-lies]

You post a lot criticising Zuko. Do you like Zuko or not?

(genuine q)

Well, let me break that down a bit:

Do I think we should have sympathy for Zuko?

I think as a 16 year old abuse victim he deserves a lot of sympathy and should get support.

Would I enjoy being around him?

No, I think the Zuko we see is a deeply unpleasant person and I doubt I would enjoy it if I were around him. However, I suspect I would also find Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, and Toph quite unpleasant to be around too, so that's hardly unique to Zuko.

Do I think Zuko is an interesting character?

I think Book 1 Zuko is actually quite interesting and in his own way quite likeable, even if he's a terrible person. Book 1 is where Zuko's writing peaks for me.

Beyond that, I honestly think Zuko becomes much more boring. The writers started leaning entirely on having viewers closely emotionally identify with Zuko and feel personal emotional catharsis when he "achieves redemption." If you don't, Zuko becomes much more boring and the flaws in his writing become much more apparent.

I also think Zuko isn't a particularly interesting or unique character in general. Azula, Ty Lee, and even Mai all manage to be way more interesting and unique than Zuko, despite getting vastly less character development time. At their core, Zuko's arc and themes amount to rejecting an abusive father in favor of a better surrogate father, which feels pretty standard to be honest. By contrast, I can think of only one character the least like Azula in any Western media, Miles Vorkosigan from the Vorkosigan Saga.

Honestly, the most interesting thing about Zuko is analyzing the difference between how the narrative frames him verses what his actions actually suggest about who he really is. That's probably why I write so many "Zuko critical" posts, because I find analyzing the difference interesting.

Do I think Zuko's arc was well-written?

No. The writers were very good at tugging at the heartstrings but beyond that I think "Zuko's redemption arc" is not nearly as good as people make it out to be. In particular, the way that the narrative after Book 1 stops holding him accountable for anything he does weakens his arc badly. That, along with making Iroh the center of Zuko's arc at all costs, made things drastically worse than the original writing plans for Zuko.

Do I think Zuko is the morally pure perfect Firelord the narrative tries to sell him as?

The finale tries to present him that way, but it falls flat for me. Zuko is a very badly flawed person who never addressed most of his flaws, and he's not the least bit suited to be Firelord. The narrative needs him to be the perfect, rightful prince who will redeem the Fire Nation from darkness, and if Zuko had been written differently and his arc had been taken in a different direction, he could be that, but he's not. I could never buy the person we see at the end of the show being a good ruler, and I could never buy him being happy as a ruler.

Could Zuko be an interesting character?

Hell yes. If the narrative had been less prone to gloss over Zuko's many flaws, and more inclined to force him to address them and deal with the consequences of his actions, he could be very interesting. Even if the narrative was willing to seriously acknowledge Zuko's flaws without having him ever improve on them, things would be more interesting. The Zuko-Azula relationship is actually super-interesting if you think deeply about it, but you need to ignore everything about how the narrative frames them for it to be interesting. "Good boy tormented by evil demon psycho younger sister" is boring as hell.

[nayomi247]

Save a horse, Ride a cowboy𐚁

(My version)

A/N: @heart-of-the-morningstar has inspired me to do my own version of the save a horse ride a cowboy smut that she posted, so this is a full one shot. Make sure you guys go visit @bat-boness and give them love and support. As this fic was based off of their drawings. This also is based off the game Red Dead Redemption 2 because that's the only way I'll be able to format this and make it look good. (TAKES PLACE AROUND THE SAME TIME RDR2 DOES)

Pairing: Cowboy! Outlaw! Lucifer/F!Reader

Contents: Smut, established relationship, p in v sex, bondage, biting, orgasm denial, dirty talk, sub Lucifer, light angst, cowgirl position, spanking, hand jobs, dom and sub undertones, blow jobs, praise kink, Lucifer for once isn't short (only because of his boots lol)

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️: THIS ALSO IS NOT PROOF READ, IT'S SOMETHING I THREW TOGETHER IN THE SPAN OF A FEW HOURS

As always, work under the cut🤞🏻

Your husband, Lucifer, wasn't always the kindest man. Of course he was to you, but others weren't quite as lucky. There'd been multiple times where he'd come home with blood covering his hands and shirt.

Though it wasn't something you liked particularly, you still loved your husband, despite all the wrong he'd done in the world.

So there you sat in your shared kitchen, waiting for him to get home. It was well after the time he normally got back. You assumed the job just took a bit longer to handle.

But as time went on, you started to get more worried. He'd never taken this long before. You stood up from your chair, completely forgetting about the plate infront of you and walked over to the door. There, you slipped on your boots and went to grab the door handle.

As soon as you turned the knob and went to walk out, you immediately stopped. There stood Lucifer, coughing and dusting off his muddy clothes, not even noticing that the door has opened and you were standing there. His eyes finally moved up to meet yours.

He smiled brightly. "Oh, my love-" He started, then confusion took over as you leaped at him, almost pushing him off the porch.

"Where the hell were you!?" You practically cried. He fumbled back, both confusion and worry washed over his face. "Honey, what are you-" He started once again, but you had cut him off. "You know exactly what I'm talking about Lucifer. I waited for hours! I thought you were dead, or stranded somewhere!" Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

Realization finally hit him and he knew he had fucked up. "L-Listen, the job took longer than I was expecting, but I got out fine, see?" He spinned around, showing that he didn't have a single scratch anywhere. "And," He said, reaching into his satchel. "I brought home a lot of money." He smiled, hoping that would be enough for an apology.

You sighed. You were still annoyed, but glad he was okay. "Go inside." You said, stepping to the side to let him in. "Of course my dear." He said with the stupid, but handsome smirk he'd always use when he got his way. As he moved past you, he placed a kiss to your head. You swatted at him and he laughed, walking over to the coat rack.

"Your food is probably cold." You said, picking up the plate and walking over to place it on the stove top. You were one of the few lucky places to get electricity at this point in time. You walk back over to where you had previously sat. He stood by the door, taking off his boots and jacket, now left in black jeans and a red collared over shirt.

He walked over to the table, sitting in his designated spot, across from you. There you sat, looking like your mind was running a mile a minute. Silence filled the room for a few minutes. Lucifer was becoming more nervous with every ticking of the clock. No one spoke, except for him.

"I'm sorry." He said. You looked up to him, for the first time since he sat down. He looked guilty, and you felt a bit bad. You flashed him a small smile, which calmed his nerves a bit. "Go upstairs." You commanded, and he immediately knew what you meant by that.

"S-sweetheart-" He fumbled over his speech, trying to convince you that he didn't deserve this. "Now." You said sternly. He got up from his seat with a nod, then made his way upstairs.

You sat there for a moment longer before you cleaned up and started up the stairs as well. You made your way down the hall to your shared room, the floor boards creaked loudly with every step.

You walked up to the door, stopping for a second before turning the handle and stepping in. You looked over to the bed, and there sat your beautiful husband. He looked like a mess.

You couldn't help but pity him. He smiled nervously at seeing you enter. His thumbs twiddled together to keep himself somewhat calm. "H-Hello, my love." He said. You made your way over to him, placing a hand on each side of him and leaning in for a kiss. He allowed you to do so, groaning a bit at the way your tongues danced together.

You found him following your face, more like chasing your lips once you pulled away. You smiled at him, and he made his best attempt to smile back.

"I assume you know what's going on Luci?" You asked him. He slowly nodded in response. "Good," you continued. "Take everything off, I'll get your rope." You pulled away, walking over to a dresser on the other side of the room. As you rummaged through the drawer, you heard the sound of clothes hit the floor. The thought of how he looked made you sweat.

You turned around, rope in hand. You slowly made your way back over to the bed where he sat again, this time clothesless. Except for the white hat that sat atop his head.

Your gaze made its way to in-between his thighs, there laid his half hard cock. You smiled to yourself and brung the ropes to his now together wrists, then tied them above his head.

"Too tight?" You asked, pulling at the restraints lightly. "No." He said. "It's okay." You pulled yourself back and threw the rope towards the dresser, leaving the mess for later. You leaned into him again, using one hand to cradle his cheek, the other to stroke his hard on.

He moaned into your mouth and bucked his hips up into your hand. You immediately pulled away. He whined at the loss. "You should know better sweetheart." You stated, and he mumbled an apology. You brought yourself down so you sat right infront of his cock. You looked up before taking your tongue and licking from the base to the tip.

He whimpered and tossed his head back. "F-fuck angel.." satisfied with this reaction, you brought yourself down completely onto him, his tip hit the back of your throat. He moaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. You set a steady pace as you bobbed your head up and down pulling a variety of sounds from his throat.

You felt his cock begin to twitch in your mouth. He was close. "Shit-! D-don't stop, please, please don't." Right as you felt he was about to release, you pulled off, leaving him a mess and unsatisfied.

He whined like a child and groaned. You grabbed where the rope was connected to the top of the bed and untied it. He thought you were letting him go but boy was he wrong, very wrong.

"Scoot back." You instructed. He reluctantly did what you said, still whining about being denied. Once he was by the headboard, you tied him up once again, but now he was more comfortable.

He sprawled himself out before you, showing every part of his beautiful pale body. You got off the bed and started to take your clothes off as well. Once you were naked, as he was, you got back up onto the bed.

Sat on your knees infront of him and leaned forward, grabbing his hat off his head and placing it on your own. "So pretty." He praised as you brought your hand down to your pussy and slid your fingers in between your wet folds. Lucifer couldn't help but be in a trance at the sight infront of him. You were so beautiful, you could make him cum just by the way you looked at him.

You pulled your fingers away. They were now covered in your slick. You took those fingers, and placed them in Lucifer's mouth to suck, which he gratefully did. He moaned at the taste of you, wanting nothing more than to eat you out till you couldn't think straight.

Keeping your fingers in his mouth, you crawled your way up so you hovered right above his hips. Without a second thought, you slammed down onto him. He cried out, biting down on your fingers and squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned too, his tip hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Good boy.." you whispered, bringing your free hand to run your hand down his chest. "You look so pretty like this." His cheeks flushed and you smiled warmly at him.

He bucked his hips up, and in response, you brought your hand down to his thigh, hard. This resulted in him crying out. You pulled your fingers out of his mouth, refusing to move.

He began to plead with you. He already was denied before, he couldn't handle this too. "Please baby," he whined "Please please please, I promise I'll be good. I'm so so sorry angel. Please fuck me."

Seeing him such a pleading mess infront of you turned you on more than anything could. You did as he asked and slowly sat up, feeling him drag inside you before slamming down again. This continued, moans and other sounds coming from you both. You quickly began to speed up.

"Yes yes yes yes, don't stop." He cried, "W-wanna touch you." Sweat dripped down his features as he tried everything he could to get loose.

You yourself also felt that coil starting to tighten, your pace brutal and quick. You had to bring a hand to your head to make sure the hat stayed on. "S-shit Luci, gonna.. cum." You said, tossing your head back in pleasure. "So, close.." You both said, each orgasm hitting at the same time. Your body shook and he rutted into you, a deep groan coming from his chest as hot ropes of his cum painted your insides.

You collapsed onto him, still having tiny spurts from the after-effects. His gasps as well as your pants could be heard. After about a minute or so, you sat up and smiled weakly at him. He did the same. You leaned down and grabbed him by his face.

"Promise me that you'll never keep me waiting like that again, okay?" You said sternly. He loved when you were dominant. "Yes darling." He whispered and you placed a peck to his lips before grabbing his wrists and untying him.

His arms shot out towards you, and pulled you down onto his chest, the hat falling off in the process. He peppered your face with kisses, holding you so tight that you couldn't get up even if you wanted too.

You giggled and laid your head on his chest, his cock still embedded inside you. He flipped the pair of you over so he was now laying on you. He buried his face in your boobs with a giddy grin on his face.

"I love you so much my darling." He mumbled from your chest. You smiled and kissed his head, your hand rubbing his back.

"I love you too, cowboy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This definitely isn't my best work, but I used past tense, which I normally don't use. I hope it still sounded decent regardless of how unput together it was. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed! I have another fic in the works that'll hopefully be out within the next week. Love you guys🫶🏻

Here's the original drawings

[hclluvahctel]

WE CAN DO THIS ;; WE'LL BE BETTER ;; THOUGH REDEMPTION MAY TAKE A WHILE ;; WAYWARD SINNERS, CLEAR THEIR LEDGER ;; AND WE'RE DOING IT WITH A SMILE ;; WE'LL MAKE A DIFFERENCE, WAIT AND SEE ;; WE'RE GONNA DO THIS ;; YOU AND ME AND THEN TOMORROW

IT WILL BE A FUCKIN' HAPPY DAY IN HELL!

independent ,  high - activity canon compliant and headcanon based portrayal  of canon and oc characters from  HAZBIN HOTEL  and HELLUVA BOSS.  mature  and potentially triggering themes  will  be  present  and tagged .  canon  divergent  .  18+  only  .  (re)established  2024  and  written by  emmy  .

HELPFUL LINKS & MUSE LIST:

Carrd Rules Muse Wheel (For when you don't know who to send things to)

promo made by @arachnaemboss

MUSE LIST:

Canon: Adam, Alastor, Alessio, Angel Dust, Asmodeus, Barbie Wire, Beelzebub, Blitzo, Charlie, Chaz, Crimson, Emily, Fizzarolli, Husk, Jesse, Josh, Loona, Lucifer, Lute, Millie, Moxxie, Niffty, Octavia, Robo "Rizz" Fizz, Rosie, Stella, Stolas, Striker, Vaggie, Valentino, Velvette, Verosika, Vortex, Vox

OCs: Annabelle, Dr Cassian Lawrence, Chelsea, Chester, Diesel, Drone, Jennifer, Lance, Maggie, Miles, Orion, Roxxie

[kittenfangirl20]

Addict au

Adam felt his entire body shudder as he inhaled the long line of coke. He couldn’t believe how damn good it was. It was some kind of new type of coke on the market. 

It was said to be so good the high would start immediately. To Adam’s pleasure they didn’t lie. Of course it would.

 One of the main elements used to make it and have that effect came from the fallen angel himself. 

His blood.

It might not be as strong as it would be if he were still holy but it produced a kick. 

Val: Well how is it?

Adam glanced up to the man who helped produce the drug.

Adam: It’s good, really good.

Val: See what I tell you? Is it not the best thing that’s ever entered your anatomy? Besides sex that is.

Adam: It is now, don't forget our deal!

Val: You wound me little lamb, do you not have any trust for your own business partner.

Adam: We are NOT business partners. The deal is that I give you my blood and you give me the stuff for free. 

Val: Exactly business partners

Adam scoffed and looked back down at the table with the tray of stuff.

Adam: What are you gonna call it anyway? 

The man smirked, placing a hand on his hip.

Val: Angel’s blood has a nice ring to it. Don’t ya thing? 

Adam merely rolled his eyes and packed up the stuff into his bag and prepared to head out. 

Val: I’ll see you soon then?

Adam: Yeah…soon.

Without another word he marched right out of the overlords office and out of his building. As Adam trudged his way through the filthy streets of Hell fellow addicts lined up along the sidewalk, in the alley, and some in the middle of the fucking road he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Not that long ago Adam would have been disgusted with their behavior. Would have said that extermination was a kindness. They no longer suffer through their addictions if permanently dead.

But that was before Adam died during the extermination, woke up fallen, and began walking a mile in the sinners shoes. He wouldn’t say that sinners were all just poor unfortunate souls that only needed saving. Oh dear Lord no.

He simply had an understanding of them. 

Maybe they were lost and so was he.

He never thought he’d stoop so low that he’d sell his own blood for a bag of dough. Yet here he was. That’s just what happens when you finally get your hands on something that’s never been available to you. 

Soon you want more.

As ironic as it may be, it consumes you. The more you put into your body, the more you feel like you need. To help you relieve any pain in your life, even temporarily. Like it did for Adam.

Here in Hell, his life was nothing but pain. Well, his entire existence has been painful. But at least up on Earth and in Heaven he had people who cared and supported him.

Down here he had no one but himself. At one point during his first days down here he’d considered going to the hotel. Since she did claim redemption was possible for anyone who seemed it.

But that was before Adam got his hands on his first bottle. Then soon moved on to more hardcore stuff. And all his thoughts kept circling back to the truth whenever he thought about the hotel.

They’d never accept him. 

Lucifer would never accept him.

Or worse they did and then what? He didn’t know but he didn’t want to find out. He stopped when he realized he made it to his rundown abandoned apartment complex. 

He merely sighed and went in getting ready to hit himself up again. 

Adam lay on the pitiful excuse for a bed after he took more drugs. It helped at least numb the pain and keep him mind off of the self loathing. But that wasn’t possible because tonight when he turned on the TV he saw a commercial for the Hazbin Hotel which included Lucifer in it. Seeing that made Adam start to cry.

Adam: Why couldn’t you just love me the way I love you.

But it wasn’t meant to be because he chose Lilith over him. Thinking of Lilith made Adam cry even more. Just thinking of the first woman always made Adam sad and fearful. Especially now that Lilith got to relax on the beaches of Heaven while Adam had to sell his blood for money and drugs. Adam cried himself to sleep. In the morning Adam woke up and stumbled out of bed to go and buy some groceries. He didn’t realize that he was spotted by Angel Dust who ran back to the hotel and went to both Charlie and Lucifer.

Angel: Look, I don’t know if we should be concerned or not. But I saw Adam at a local grocery store. He lost quite a bit of weight and he doesn’t look good. I think he is having a rough time in Hell.

Charlie: Dad, we need to help Adam. I know he attacked the hotel, but no one deserves to suffer like that.

Lucifer: I will go and talk to him, I just don’t know if he will listen to me.

The truth was that Lucifer had wanted to help Adam and apologize for everything.

@talesfromawannabewriter

[3-why-am-i-here-3]

Venting about the discourse regarding Gwen and her relationship to Miles in this fandom, not because I think it will do any good, but because i just want to say it.

What happened between Miles and Gwen in ATSV and the consequential fallout opened the door for some very interesting discourse. Discussions can be had about the events leading up to Gwen's blunders, whether she can earn forgiveness, and how these things will affect Mile's relationship with her, as well as how these types of situations play out in real relationships. These discussions have been happening to an extent, but not in a way that is conducive to good discourse.

What often keeps people from healthy discussion of these topics is the many different interpretations of Gwen; specifically the very polarized opinions people have of her. Some believe what she has done should never be forgiven, while others believe she has done nothing wrong to begin with.

I fall somewhere in the middle; I like Gwen, and I hope she is redeemed in the next movie, but I also acknowledge that she does need redemption. Obviously, you can like Gwen; you can also dislike her, but there is nothing wrong with either. What I see a lot of, though, are people who like or dislike her to the point of mischaracterization.

I believe there is room for interpretation of her character, but there does come a point where it becomes illogical. For example, some people who dislike Gwen will make her out to be completely evil, and the sole reason for every bad thing that happened to Miles. Others who do like her will paint her as a martyr and a saint. Neither are true. Gwen is a teenage girl who was caught between a rock and a hard place. She messed up and needs to work to earn her forgiveness. Both these statements are true, but depending on which side of the debate people fall on, they will only believe one or the other.

People don't (or won't) seem to understand that Gwen (and her situation) were nuanced. It is not black or white, but some shade of grey. And maybe you're reading this and thinking, "duh," but even if many people know this, they don't act like it. I'm not saying you can't criticize or praise Gwen, but I see people get so caught up in either blasting or defending her that it destroys any opportunity for an actual good discussion. I think Gwen's character is complex, and that's why I like her so much. I love it when characters accidently pave the road to hell with the best intentions, and I love seeing discourse about what they did wrong and what they did right. All this fandom does, however, is wage wars over whether Gwen is a demon or an angel at the expense of her character and Miles', for that matter.

I also see so many people engaging with content that would be better ignored. I can't stress this enough: if there is a user saying something that you don't like and it's not harmful to you or anyone else, then unless you intend to respectfully give your opinion in a way that's conducive to productive converstaion, DO NOT ENGAGE! Block them, report them, whatever, just don't interact. I see so many people in the comments of posts that they simply disagree with being disrespectful to the poster or anyone who agrees with them. What's even more infuriating is when the post is obvious rage bait. I've seen so many rage bait posts about Gwen trying to ignite either side of the debate over her character and they always get what they want: a bunch of people arguing in the replies.

It's such a shame because this could have produced some great conversations, but people have instead faught over it. It all comes down to a lack of nuanced opinions of a nuanced character, in my opinion. I'm hoping BTSV will calm people down and maybe then there will be room for more respectful conversation, but right now? It's a war zone and I want no part of it.

TL:DR: People who don't understand nuance and only deal in absolutes have made this fandom a lot less fun.

[galway-girlatwork]

Masterlist and AO3

So I am still new to this whole masterlist thing but again I just wanted to put all my works up. So if you feel froggy jump. If the summaries aren't your shot of whisky, then scroll on by.

Joel Miller

Echoes of Hope-

In a remote cabin, Raven finds solace in living off the grid, maintaining the life her late parents envisioned. The isolation is interrupted when she spots a man and a girl approaching her property. Initially hostile, the trio’s encounter, laced with lies, deceit and budding passion, show just how alliances are formed but they are fragile things, that can shatter in an instance.

Fragile State-

The aftermath of a traumatic car accident leaves a family struggling with fear and uncertainty. The emotional toll weighing them all down as they try to find some normalcy which they all know is impossible until he wakes up. Vulnerability and desperate needs for the man who is the center of their lives to remember who they are and the life he had with them.

Concert Charms-

What happens when you go to a rock concert? Confusion, angst at miscommunication, you begin to wonder if it’s worth getting involved with a stranger. But backyard BBQ’s leads to something more and who knows what can happen in twenty years.

Airwaves-

A hardworking single dad raising two daughters spends his evenings unwinding to late-night radio, listening to an upbeat and fiercely independent DJ with an encyclopedic knowledge of music, with a warm, magnetic voice. Joel becomes a loyal listener, calling into her show each night to request songs that resonate with his life—melodies for his girls, echoes of his past, or tunes Maggie herself loves.

What happens when they form a connection through their nightly calls? When their connection blossoms into something more than just what is said and played over the airwaves?

Beyond the Wall-

The QZ, where survival often trumps trust, two smugglers end up on the wrong side of each other. Amid the bleakness of survival, they share moments that let them briefly forget the hell they live in, their space becoming a sanctuary despite the nightmares plaguing them. But there’s hope or is there? When Tommy joins the Fireflies, something stirs in Stacie, a desire for more than just survival. She knows leaving will sever a bond, one that has been in existence for years. It’s the price of surviving, testing the limits of love and trust. How much strength does it take to leave behind everything, including the man you love?

Javi Pena

Broken Silence-A tumultuous relationship with a fellow DEA agent, is marked by tension and unspoken feelings. Can a growing affection, mixed with reckless behavior, drugs, death, money and power, really survive? From Bogota, to Miami, to Rome, how far will it go?

Frankie Morales

Beyond Times Edge-

Fairy rings do not exist. Fairy rings do not exist. Fairy rings do not exist.

Witches are not real. Witches are not real. Witches are not real.

How many times can he repeat this in his head for it to take hold? A thousand? A million?

What happens when a man transcends time and space and falls in love with a witch?

It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus, right?

Deliver Me-

Running. It was what she knew, her ex-hundreds of miles away. A relationship is not what she needed, not what she wanted. Peace is all she craved after years of living in fear, relying on the flight or fight response. Meeting her daughter’s kindergarten teacher, who was the exact opposite of David, her abusive ex, might change that. But what happens when the past rears its ugly head? Will she fight, flee or finally ask for help?

Marcus Moreno-Some Bodies

In the shadows of the ancient city, a dark romance blossoms between a healer and a sinner. It is a connection of light and dark, life and death. Can he accept her past? Can she believe there is redemption for what she’s done? Can carefully guarded secrets stay that way?

Marcus Pike-

Shadow and Flame

The relationship between Agent Marcus Pike and Daciana, is a game of cat and mouse, taking Marcus around the world—London, Tokyo, Rio, and now Paris. Daciana taunts him, leaving clues that lead him to her hideouts just a little too late, fueling his growing obsession.

Their relationship is more than just professional; there’s an undeniable chemistry between them, a tension that neither can ignore. Marcus, frustrated by his inability to catch her, is simultaneously drawn to her presence.

Marcus knows that catching Daciana may come at a cost—one that goes far beyond the law.

Smells Like...

Marcus had always told himself he wasn’t the jealous type until her. He told himself she was gone for good, that she had moved on. But when he sees her at an art exhibit a year later, with another man, something inside him snaps. The jealousy, the longing, the love he never let go of all crashes down on him.

One heated confrontation later and the past proves impossible to ignore. The chemistry is still electric, the connection undeniable. But Marcus isn’t willing to let her slip away this time. As passion ignites and old wounds resurface, he makes one thing clear—he wants her back.

But is Marcus willing to risk his heart one more time to find out?

Javi G.-You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

Javi needs encouragement to get the Christmas spirit when he is down and out. Mia, his girlfriend, does what she can.

Din Djarin-Say Something

Eve’s career has always taken a back seat to Din’s. The goal was always she would start working more on her music when he graduated law school and worked for one year at a law firm. Now both of their careers are taking off but where she’s always been there for him, Eve is finding that Din isn’t always there for her. Feeling forgotten, she now lives for her music. And Din forgets that marriage takes just as much work as a career.

Oberyn Martell

Of Death and Butterflies

Everyone’s heard the stories of Lilith. Of how she came to be. But are the stories true? Is she really a demon or something else? She was not born of angels but created by Death himself. To walk between the land of the living and dead. But what happens when The Fates intervene and present her soulmate? Countless lives and re-incarnations have been lived and lost. Will Oberyn remember before another life slips between their fingers like sand?

Wild Hearts

For Mina’s Moodboard Birthday Celebration. I picked Oberyn and got horseback riding so I wrote this lil drabble. It takes place before Oberyn would have told Lilith that he was going to announce their union. Their fourth lifetime. Of Death and Butterflies had so much angst, I wanted to write something sweet for them. Please enjoy the moodboard and the drabble.

Max Phillips-Tinsel and Turkey Vultures

This was written for @beefrobeefcal Half Bricked, Wrong Time February Prompt Challenge. It is a dumpster fire but well I think it is funny. Not your shot of whisky, scroll on by. If you want a giggle, give it a read.  

Lucien Flores-Never Have I Ever Killed Someone

What were Hollywood parties except a chance to show off the glitz and glamour? Shallow was the word she liked to use but as a PA to a boss who went through a horrid divorce, she was begged to go. To let everyone know he was okay when she knew the truth.

But now she finds herself drawn into an unexpected encounter with a stranger. He convinces her to join him in a private game of “Never Have I Ever.” And what begins as playful banter escalates into an electrifying, passionate night that neither of them anticipates but both desperately need.

A one-night stand was meant to be just that—one night. But can something so intense truly end there?

Supernatural

Sam Winchester-Do You Know Your ABC's

A witch’s connection with the Winchester’s put her in the hands of Crowley, determined to use her for her powers since his mother is MIA at the moment. We all know what lengths the boys will go to get back someone who’s become an ally to them. Can they save her? Or will she save them?

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the banner and dividers. Love your work. Hugs.

Tagging cause I can. *wink*

@almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave @ninii-winchester @pedgito @ease-out-the-clutch @rivnedell @littlemisspascal @pearlessance @wintrwinchestr @burntheedges @jolapeno @morallyinept @jolapeno @tinyglamdramaqueen @604to647 @kittyfox1107

[multiverse--wanderer]

Unshaken Outlaws | Arthur Morgan x John Marston [ENG]

[ Fan-Fiction based on the OTP between Arthur Morgan and John Marston from Red Dead Redemption ] In a world where the last cowboys are ruthlessly hunted, survival is the only rule. Loyalty, fragile yet vital, is the thread that binds the outlaws together, their sole hope in a landscape marked by betrayal and constant danger. Amidst war and a passion that defies the rules, Arthur and John will find an unexpected path to redemption as their world crumbles around them. For Dutch's gang, the fight for survival has never been easy, but it becomes even more complicated when a forbidden love blossoms amid fallen bullets, lies, and deep wounds. Can this love become the sanctuary they need to withstand the coming chaos, or will it be the end of everything they know?

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

Chapter 1: When the Deer Saved the Wolf

Present

The storm showed no signs of letting up. The bare, rigid trees groaned under the weight of frost, and the entire landscape seemed determined to bury the men who dared challenge it beneath its white mantle. The outlaws, hidden among those same mountains, knew they were safer than ever under that icy hell, but they also understood that their safety was temporary. Nature protected no one for long; they had to move before the storm eased and the world began hunting them again.

Arthur trudged forward with difficulty through snow that reached his knees. Every step was a titanic effort, and the cabin sheltering Jack, Abigail, Hosea, and the women seemed miles away, though in reality, only a few meters separated him from it. Finally, he arrived, his face battered by the icy wind and his muscles numb. He shook off his coat, sending a dusting of snow scattering onto the wooden floor by the fireplace, where it hissed upon contact. Without waiting for an invitation, he moved toward the fire, extending his gloved hands toward the flickering flames that greeted him with an almost painful warmth.

—He's been gone for days, and it doesn't look like this storm's letting up. —Abigail's voice broke the tense silence, though her tone couldn't hide her worry—. He's strong, and he's smart. I'm sure he'll...

—Strong, yes —Arthur interrupted, arching an eyebrow with sarcasm—, but smart...

The comment made Abigail frown, but before she could respond, she glanced at Arthur, and her expression softened. The fury on her face gave way, though the restless glint in her eyes remained.

—Hi, Arthur.

—Abigail.

His response was curt, tinged with the indifference Arthur always reserved for her. By now, Abigail knew how to read him. That mask of coldness didn't fool anyone who truly knew him. Determined to break through the wall, she took a step closer, her voice dropping a notch, becoming almost sweet.

—Arthur... how are you?

He glanced at her sideways, his sharp eyes evaluating her with the resigned weariness he used when he knew someone was about to ask him for something. He'd seen that tone in her too many times. With John, it was practically a weapon, a surefire way to get what she wanted. And with him... she only used it when she needed something no one else could give her.

—Fine, Abigail. You?

—I need... —She hesitated for a moment, but Arthur didn't need to hear more. He sighed, tired of always anticipating others' needs—. Sorry to ask, but...

—It's about little John, isn't it? —His tone was bitter, almost biting—. He's gotten himself into trouble again.

Abigail's face hardened instantly. She didn't like the way he spoke about John, but she forced herself to stay composed. Her frown sought Arthur's gaze, as if daring to confront his sarcasm head-on.

—We haven't seen him in two days, Arthur.

—Your dear John will be fine —He replied with an ironic smirk—. I mean... even if he's dumber than rocks and duller than watching grass grow, a snowstorm isn't going to kill him.

The comment echoed in the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence. Hosea, seated by the fire, lifted his gaze, his expression calm but laden with authority. Arthur seemed agitated—more out of worry than anything else—but his pride wouldn't let him admit it. No matter how much he wanted to hate John, he couldn't help feeling that blend of anger and fear. Because, in the end, he cared more than he wanted to admit.

—Go check on him, at least. —Hosea intervened, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Arthur grunted, frustrated. He couldn't refuse Hosea, because Hosea wasn't just a leader. He was his mentor, his father in all but blood, and the only one who truly understood the complicated relationship between him and John, even when they themselves couldn't figure it out.

—Javier, go with him —Hosea added, directing a look at the young Mexican, who immediately stood.

Javier smiled with that ever-casual air of his, but his gesture was kind as he gave Arthur a pat on the chest.

—You know, if the roles were reversed, John would do the same for us. Let's go, Arthur.

Arthur pressed his lips together, hiding his expression beneath the high collar of his coat. His gaze met Hosea's, searching for support or maybe permission to cling to his pride. But Hosea didn't relent. His silence was a tacit order: "Set your anger aside and do the right thing."

Without another word, Arthur gave a brusque nod and headed out, Javier following close behind. As they shut the door behind them, the icy wind roared with renewed fury, as if the mountain itself were challenging them to find John before it was too late.

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

[sitp-recs]

Hello again, how are you? I hope you do well ! I'd like to see if you can recommend me any survival Darry fic. I'd like some fic where Draco and Harry get lost and have to survive together, just the two of them, and they end up forming a very strong bond

Hi there! I’ve had better days tbh but thank you for asking, I hope you’ve been well 💜 here are some fics that came to mind:

World's Edge by RurouniHime (E, 15k)

In the harshest environment on earth, Harry finds that escaping is harder than simply running.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by firethesound (M, 21k)

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety. Not that he’d call Malfoy a friend, but the end of the world does rather make their ongoing feud seem trivial. And it just figures that it took nothing short of an apocalypse to make Malfoy seem like less of a git.

Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by Faith Wood (E, 37k)

Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Annus Mirabilis by Ren (E, 39k)

Harry and Malfoy are trapped at Hogwarts around the time the school was founded. Stuck with a different way of doing magic, with no chocolate, and with each other, they have to find a way to work together if they want a chance to go home.

Survival of the Species by @romaine2424 (E, 46k)

Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea. The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected. There be dragons! HPDH compliant but before any other canon info had been released.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl (E, 69k)

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Consequences of Redemption by bobbirose (M, 120k)

When Draco makes an impromptu decision to rescue Harry Potter from Malfoy Manor, the two find themselves completely alone and facing the looming climax of the war against Voldemort. Harry must start from the beginning with Draco--and starting over has more consequences than either of them anticipated.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (E, 180k)

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

In The Dark by @bixgirl1 (E, WIP)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal. The world has fallen, and death is hungry.

[crackrodent]

Check out the rest of my Flufftober library!

Orange Disaster

Charlie sat in the yard with a few dozen pumpkins, waiting for everyone else to show up and help carve the pumpkins. Each ticking moment was agonizing as she slowly came to terms with the fact it was just going to be her and Vaggie carving all of them.

Even then, she was still going to have to wait since Vaggie was helping Husk with something. Charlie couldn’t remember. Charlie picked up the first pumpkin and started cutting off the top to begin the prepping process.

“Charlie, why are you cutting vegetables outside?” Niffty said appearing out of nowhere.

“For the jack-o-lanterns?” She was certain she explained this in the meeting this morning but it would not be the first time she forgot to check if Niffty was there before starting.

Niffty looked at her with her big ol’ eye, “What’s that.”

“You don’t know what jack-o-lanterns are? Humans like you invented them! You never made them as a kid?”

Niffty ignored her and started cleaning off the pumpkins. “These don’t look very good. They are so messy.”

“Just wait until we pull out the guts!” Charlie joked pulling out the first clump of seeds and tossing them in a bowl.

Charlie didn’t notice, but Niffty had just fully decided Charlie was cool. Niffty was going to have to work hard to hide this fact. It won’t matter either way. Alastor could sense it miles away and groaned internally. He’s not really relevant though. Pumpkins though? RELEVANT!

Charlie did notice when more pumpkin guts got tossed in her bowl. Looking up she sees Niffty gutting a small pumpkin. She smiles and decides to take this as an opportunity to try and finally get through to Niffty about redemption.

~~2 HOURS LATER~~

All the pumpkins were gutted and cleaned. Pumpkin seeds separated from orange gunk. The prep tools are put away and the decorating tools are out. And Niffty was definitely staying in Hell.

“I love the jack-o-lanterns, Charlie,” Niffty said cradling one, “Where do we hide them?”

“We don’t hide them, we are going to place them for everyone to see them! But we need to decorate them first.” Charlie smiled, “Niffty, listen carefully because you are going to love this part.” Charlie showed Niffty the design guidebooks and how to freehand the art and explained which knives did what.

Niffty looked at all the fun little knives and looked up at Charlie, “You really are a princess.”

Charlie felt like she was going to cry, and so she did for a minute. Once she looked back she saw an orange slush puddle where the example pumpkin once sat.

“I think I stabbed it too much Charlie.” The princess of hell just smiled and said reassured Niffty it was alright and she could try again.

Charlie had barely finished her first pumpkin’s little cat whiskers when she saw that only four pumpkins remained. She sighed and grabbed her next pumpkin. She figured Niffty would burn through the last three before she would finish up her little spider but she was surprised to see all three still there.

She looked over to Niffty and saw her playing with a couple of chunks of pumpkin walls. Whittling away at them. Charlie was getting tired at this point and grabbed another pumpkin and made a regular old big scary smiling face.

Charlie heard the door open and was very happy to see Vaggie walking over to her.

“Sorry I am so late babe,” Vaggie said followed by a yawn.

“It’s okay, Niffty was helping me,” Charlie explained.

Vaggie looked much more awake now, suddenly looking around at the orange coating the yard, “I can see that sweetie,” She kissed Charlie on the cheek, “How did that go?”

“Great.” Charlie started on the second to last pumpkin and Vaggie took last place. They quietly worked on the last two, both making a happy pumpkin. Charlie was in a hurry and finished hers so quickly she forgot to carve out one of the eyes as she rushed to find a nice spot in the yard for it.

Vaggie wondered if Charlie did it on purpose. She looked at the other pumpkins for evidence but knowing Charlie it could be either way. Vaggie kept working on her intentional little goat horns she opted to carve out. She had time. Charlie needed to know someone was helping her on this project.

“Where did Charlie go?” Niffty asked Vaggie.

“She’s putting the Jack-o-lanterns where they are going to go.”

“I wanna pick where mine goes!”

Vaggie was trying to focus so brushed her off a bit, “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Niffty ran off with her Jack-o-lantern searching for the perfect place. She circled the building three times before ruling out all options and bolting inside almost knocking over Vaggie and Charlie as they placed Vaggie's next to Charlie’s happy pumpkin.

Niffty ran passed the living room through the kitchen and dining room before seeing it. the perfect place! Right on Husk’s bar.

Angel and Cherri had been sitting at the bar drinking with Husk when Niffty placed her creation right in front of the three of them. Husk and Angel started laughing immediately.

“Niff, you are gonna scare him right out of the fucking hotel if he sees this,” Husk warned, while moving it to a safer spot near the end of the bar.

“Aw, whiskers! Look! This is the most cute thing she has ever done. Like she’s don't some freaky shit for bad boys before-”

Cherri chimed in, “OH, remember when she took fur from that fuck head’s coat?”

“Val? Yeah, that was his wings.” Angel corrected.

“Yeah, well this bitch made a cute little head of an effigy.”

“what's an-” Niffty was cut off.

“What is that?” Baxter asked walking up to the bar. “Is that me?” He couldn’t look away.

“YES! I made a Baxter-lantern!” Niffty pulled him into a hug. He stood transfixed. This was the most stalker thing he had ever seen. No movie, book, true crime, or fictional, on earth or in hell. This was nightmare fuel for monsters. The type of thing people swear they would not wish on their worst enemy.

Why was he weirdly into it?

[bunji-enthusiast]

Wonder how Redeemed! Scourge would act around Team Sonic during and after his therapy and redemption arc, would be interesting to see how he would react seeing the genuine friendship between the whole team especially if the reader is involved. He only had his team and Fiona, most probably stayed out of fear(?) idk I haven't read the whole lore but prob close to that

Note || somewhat rushed but here you go! I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE, SO MANY THINGS KEPT COMING UP AND LIFE AND UGGGGHHH—

Okay first of all, you probably had to give your friends a large heads up and a warning to be kinder and not act so weird toward Scourge. Considering his huge reputation with his previous actions, quite frankly it could be worse, seeing as how he enslaved a numerous amount of mobians and mobilized the plant in his own dimension. Then came his scars, then came this. 

His memories are scrambled, so he can't recall every single thing evidently. But when it came down to you, Sonic, Knuckles and Tails; he could feel the warmth of friends and family found alike. Working together and providing good memories together regardless of the circumstances or the situation. He didn’t entirely expect them to greet him warmly as they would.

But in all rights, they still reserved some resentment toward the green hedgehog. Scourge completely expected that, and he was fully ready and prepared to gain back their trust with time. 

Unusually, he felt a new sensation stirring in his chest each time he saw you interacting with any members of the team. Scourge evidently didn’t realize how much he had done his old friends wrong. Nonetheless, he simply watched from a comfortable distance – while maintaining his persona, less his old self, but with better restraint now this time. 

Fiona was one of his closest members, his old lover. But he sees now he was extremely piss-poor behavior when he saw you interact with one additional honorary member; Amy Rose. He did apologize to her properly for his prior behavior toward the pink hedgehog, to which she still held grievous amounts of skepticism toward Scourge, but was most willing to make amends with him. Scourge thought she was an absolute saint: at any point in time of his life, he never expected to have such a mindset. He felt a little better that he improved more on that aspect before meeting any of your friends. 

Scourge could appreciate how quickly Sonic could make amends with you, or any other of his friends for that matter. Before he was easily annoyed by Sonic, as he was often compared to the Blue Blur – but now he could understand why those comparisons were uttered before. He just needed a bit of straightforwardness and blunt honesty to set him straight on a bit of a better path.

He thought he was really annoying to converse with though, Sonic will not let him live down his infamous reputation for prior events. He didn’t like him in that entirety, but he came to learn and understand that he has a tendency to tease; Sonic surprisingly won’t cross any boundaries with Scourge, and even began to worry over him in the few past months he’s gotten to know him. The real him. 

The real Scourge.

Getting acquainted with Miles was something he found rewarding, he thought the little fox was cool as hell the better he had gotten to know him. Scourge didn’t mind being in his presence, as he had also found him to be very reliable. Tails was a nickname he was continuously called by many who have come to know him, as he had often introduced him this way. Scourge felt the honesty and modesty radiating off of the little fox, he could really respect the guy.

As for Knuckles, he wasn’t completely sure. He was cold and hardened, indifferent to Scourge. Though he did his best to remain with understanding and patience toward the echidna, understanding that the guardian may resent him moreover in comparison to the others.