#Red me-ism

[pudding0001]

[rasticore]

i was looking at the Husk charm i have that uses his pilot design and noticed his inner ear is pink and white striped, similar to a Certain Spider 🤔🤔🤔

[westernwoodblogs]

Thinking about that*.

*Whenever Rimmer is devoid of his cowardice or lowest aspects, Emohawk Polymorph II and Demons and Angels respectively, the way he speaks to Lister is so openly affectionate.

[geometricalien]

him, already with a girlfriend that he wants to marry: I wanted to kiss you when I saw you. I wanted to kiss you on the bridge as well.

me, externally: i- eh- what-

me, internally: soooo many red flags how can he just admit this??

[b1ckwdcw]

just a tag dump. feel free to keep scrolling.

║▌ out of patience. // ooc. ║▌ did i step on your moment? // psa. ║▌ i've got red in my ledger. // prompts. ║▌ this isn't a good time. i'm working! // crack. ║▌ i am the one and only black widow. // natalia. ║▌ we serve ... but we are not puppets. // musing. ║▌ i can take care of myself thank you! // isms. ║▌ you remember me? you were the one good thing in all of it. // winterwidow. ║▌ you and me will burn down the whole world. // james. ( vinterstarn. ) ║▌ i used to have this dream. of a life i could never have. // wishlist. ║▌ don't pretend to know who i am. // meta.

[hcrctic]

tag dump! wanda edition

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[hclluvahctel-a]

Blitzo tags

[theysparked]

isms star wars tag drop

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[wraithdance]

The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Synopsis: When your fiancé breaks up with you, you start to question your timeline; who needs a man when you can have a baby yourself? Who better to ask for help on creating one than your arch-nemesis Kyle Garrick?

Note: F!Reader, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use Content warning: none; besides a terrible grasp of british-isms

Chapter One: Piss off Kyle

It was while sitting beneath the awning of your favorite bistro that you’d come to a great realization. Hugo Montclair, your fiance of three years, was not just a bore but a bit of a jackass. 

Also, the lavender cake was no longer listed on Le Misa’s menu. So, technically two great realizations. As bad as it sounded, one concerned you more than the other.

Squinting you give the laminated sheet another thorough read to confirm your suspicions and… ah, yes. It’s not there. Where it should be between the ladies fingers and the lemon cake is an empty, discolored space. 

With a manicured finger you chip away at the corners to reveal the sloping letter ‘L’ beneath the meticulously placed correction tape. 

This was no good.

“Siggy, darling have you heard a word I said?”

You hum in reply, still deeply baffled with the current conundrum. Hugo calls your name again, not satisfied until you’ve given him your attention. 

He leans his head down to be in your line of sight. He’s a bit too blonde and polished for you not to focus your attention on. Like a shiny beacon. You try not to sigh deeply and instead plaster on a smile. 

“Yes, I heard you darling, you want to break up because you’re seeing Maddie from downstairs.”

Hugo extends his dainty manicured hands across the small table to cover yours above the menu. 

“I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you this way.”

His eyes are carefully soft and his expression does that awkward stretch people do when attempting to project a facsimile of contriteness. In this case it just makes the skin around his mouth pucker oddly, displacing the filler he swears he gets for preventive measures.

You pat his hand politely with a smile “It’s fine, Hugo, really. Do you think I can borrow your menu? I think there's been a bit of a mistake.”

You are sliding the paper to your side of the table before you can finish the sentence. Hugo is a bit taken aback and blanches.

Another sweeping glance at Hugo’s menu reveals much of the same. 

There’s no lavender cake.

“Look, I know this is hard to take in but I want us to try to at least be amicable. We’ve been together for years and your parents and friends adore me.”

At this you snort but quickly cover it with a cough. Your parents tolerated him at best and your friends had made it well known they disapproved of Hugo. (Something about being a posh chihuahua enamored with its own self importance.)

You frown thinking of the dramatics his mother would put on inevitably, so sure you’d ruined the engagement to her son on purpose. 

But really what could you do? 

It wasn’t the most convenient thing to have your boss's beloved son kick you to the metaphorical curb, but technically you were the one who had been cheated on. Totally not your fault this time!

“I said I got it, you can’t help who you love and etcetera.” You give a cluck of your tongue before looking up once more hoping to catch the circling barista's eye. 

The mid afternoon lunch crowd at Le Misa’s is blessedly tame for a Thursday. The gloomy weather outside makes it easier to spot the jittery teen in a crimson red apron. The poor girl is glued to a corner, hunched over and clutching a notepad in white knuckle grip. 

She sees you shift in her periphery and snaps terrified eyes to your half raised arm. You do your best to smile sans teeth as you wave her over, coaxing her closer with small fluid movements. 

You hope you’re projecting calming vibes because she looks a bit green around the gills from the very thought of being needed by a customer. 

When she’s meters from your table you lean forward, your tits and belly squash a bit over the table causing your empty saucer to clatter before settling. Hugo, despite his offended chittering, stops long enough to stare at your chest. With a roll of your eyes you ignore his open panting. Typical.

“Hi darling,” you chirp in an octave higher than your usual. “I just had a quick question about the cakes? There used to be a lavender one here, I’ve been ordering it for years. Can you tell me what happened to it?”

“Um w-well.” The trembling girl blinks are twitchy and rapid, sputtering out um’s and oh’s.

‘Oh, no’ you think to yourself. 

You might have broken her. Still, you nod your head in support waiting for her to gather her wits. The poor thing was obviously a new employ with a bitch of a case of social anxiety.

Your efforts are for nothing in the end because a loud clearing throat causes you both to freeze, just as it’s seem she’d gotten up her courage.

Your cheek ticks as you watch the skittish girl clam up again. Hugo’s gaze has pried off your cleavage long enough to laser something disapproving and pointed at the side of your forehead. 

He’s even doing that thing with his face that you’ve always hated. His cheeks suck in like a goldfish and he does the eyebrow raise and head cock that screams ‘I am very displeased.’

“What? I just need to ask her something. I'll be just a sec.”

Hugo’s frown only deepens and he lets out the most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard from a thirty two year old man.

It causes you to roll your eyes. Really, why couldn’t he just break up with you through text? This whole kerfuffle was starting to drag on and ruin your already limited lunch hour.

What happened to just saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’ or ghosting like a normal person? 

You give the hovering teenager a tight smile and lift a single manicured finger to signify the need for a moment. She scurries back into the safety of the French doors into the cafe's interior before your hand has a chance to lower.

“Hugo darling,” Your tone is careful, neutral like the one you use to disarm your irate clients. 

“I’m really not upset I promise, we’d barely begun planning the wedding and we never got around to moving in with each other. Really there’s no harm-”

“She's pregnant.” he blurts out suddenly. 

A record scratches in your brain because, “What?”

Hugo grimaces. “She’s about three months pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

One blink. Two… before you’re sure there wasn’t a punchline coming. 

“Are you taking the piss right now?”

“Sweetheart,” His hands raise in defense “don’t get upset-”

“Oh what the actual FUCK Hugo? You told me you wanted to wait until marriage before considering children!” Your hiss is low and dark. 

More than a small part of you is satisfied with his flinch back to avoid your venom. You're slightly aware of the scene you’re causing but really! The man had kept his sperm under lock and key like his swimmers were precious jewels!

It’s the one thing he’d put his foot down about, content to let you drive the relationship otherwise.

‘I have to be considerate of my legacy as a Montclair, Siggy.’

‘We can talk about it after the wedding, Siggy.’ 

You didn’t understand the hang up because the Montclair clan were as distant from the crown as you were to Beyoncé! Still he’d been adamant about not having a child out of wedlock. 

You’re not very kind about reminding him of the fact either.

“I did mean that, I swear,” he ruffles his coiffed blonde hair, the pomade holding firm but is no match for the havoc his slender fingers trail. “It just happened and Madelyn and I decided it was a good thing.”

He huffs “I mean let’s be realistic Siggy, she’s different from you. She’s a bit more equipped to take care of a child than you are.”

Oh ho! Now that was rich. You were chomping at the bit to hear how the barely legal heiress was better equipped to birth a baby than you were!

“How so!” Your tone is one translating the utmost disbelief and sarcasm. 

Hugo waves a hand in the air, it’s so dismissive and you consider punching him in the nose for it. “She’s just much more flexible.” 

Well ouch?

There’s a Rolodex of adjectives your litany of exes used to describe you before they dumped you. 

Uptight, strict, aloof, intense. ‘Heartless harpy who feeds on the souls of innocent men’. 

The last one came from a starving poet who’d been freeloading on your nice suede green couch before you'd kicked him and his lute out. How you managed to find the one man in London with dreams of being a modern day bard, who knows.

(You did admire his ways with words and his tongue was capable of art). It had admittedly stung a bit more than the others and you needed an extra hen session with the girls to unpack the resulting feels. 

Nonetheless, you’ve never been called inflexible. 

Matter of fact, you were pretty fucking flexible! Your Pilates teacher had crowed about it several times during class, thank you very much.  (Maybe he was just trying to get you to put out but still, a compliment was a compliment.)

Momentarily you consider if that was actually supposed to be a dig at your weight but Hugo frantically rambles on as if reading your mind. 

“I just mean that you work long hours at Mum’s firm and you’ve told me yourself you wouldn’t stop working even if you were pregnant.”

“So what!”

“So, that’s an awful way to raise a child Siggy! Madelyn works for herself and has the time to dedicate to a baby that you don’t.”

“Of course she has the time!” you cry out in exasperation, ignoring Hugo’s shushing. If he wanted you to react better he shouldn’t have dropped this bomb in public!

“She teaches yoga to the elderly in her perfect fucking apartment! I’ve been a barrister for all of 2 seconds and I can’t just give up my position!”

Hugo rolls his eyes with the dramatic flare only an aristocrat could pull off. “I’ve been trying to work on our relationship for months; you’ve blown me off every time saying you were working or there was a crisis with your friends.”

“I thought proposing would change things but…” The sad look does make some guilt well up into your veins. 

Hugo’s shoulder drop and his blue eyes are a bit misty. It makes your throat close with panic. Hugo was prone to sobbing and you really needed to intercept that train before it derailed.

“Hugo-”

“It doesn’t even feel like you like me sometimes!” He’s hiccuping and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation before you know it. 

Oh for fucks sake!

“It’s like you view me as more of a convenience than a partner. I’ve only ever seen you truly happy over coupons or work or cakes!”

Fat tears roll down his face and you’re handing him your linen napkin with a sigh. He thanks you and blows his nose loudly enough for other tables to glance your way. Wonderful.

When he composes himself you try to refute him.

“Hugo, that's not true, I like you,” His gives you a look of complete disbelief that sets you on the defense. “Really I do! I just…”

Your brows furrow as words evade you. You really wish he would have just broken up with you via text.

“I show it differently that’s all.” Your shoulders sag in defeat.

Hugo gives you a sad smile. It’s watery and his face is still a bit splotchy.

“But not like Madelyn does. Be honest, did you ever love me?”

You feel like an absolute bitch because you can’t answer him. After a while you both accept that it was about as much as you could say.

It’s only when you’re halfway to the office that you realize you never did get an answer about the cake.

Kyle Garrick had a radar for when you were about to make a fool of yourself. The man had somehow been privy to every embarrassing moment you’ve had in your shared building. You couldn’t prove it, but he had to have some kind of sixth sense for your personal humiliation. 

There was no other explanation because the entire six years you’d lived across from him, he was always conveniently near when shit went awry.

Like that time you locked yourself out wearing only a ratty towel when reaching for a parcel. His stupidly pretty face only twitched in amusement seeing you hunched over and dripping wet. 

You’d been attempting to jimmy the cheap lock with a stray paper clip you found discarded nearby. It hadn’t gone well, as you’d been more focused on trying to keep your tits and thighs within the thin, cotton fabric.

(They really should make towels for bigger girls more accessible, honestly it was ridiculous!)

It hadn’t been your finest moment but he could have had the decency to look away. Instead, he leaned his broad shoulder against his doorway, content to watch you struggle. 

You’d snapped at him asking what his problem was and his only reply was ‘nippy in here, isn’t it?’ 

He did eventually help you break into your flat, but only after you’d called him as many names as you could think of. He’d waited out your tantrum without as much of a twitch. He’d simply taken the paper clip from you and sank to the floor in front of the doorknob.

His big hands were surprisingly much more dexterous than yours. You’d never admit to the lump in your throat or the shudder starting at your toes while staring at the long brown digits.

It didn’t help that his whiskey colored eyes bore into yours with an unspoken question when you made a panicked sound. The side of his head had grazed your breasts and the back of the hand holding your towel when he shifted on his knees. The light touch was clearly accidental, but still molten lava shot through you like a rocket on fire.

Intrusive thoughts of him kneeling before you in another context caused you to choke on your saliva. You tried so hard to clear your throat subtly but an embarrassing wheezing sound still managed to escape. Add insult to injury, the infuriating man had to pat your back when your body wracked with coughs.

You weren’t proud that you told him to fuck right off when he finally got the door open. You ignored his sarcastic ‘You’re welcome, luv” and slammed the door in his smug face. 

That was nearly two years ago and the start of your vendetta against the irritating neighbor.

Per usual, he finds you just outside your doorway causing a scene. This time, you’re being clung to by your now ex-fiancés mistress.

Madelyn’s wails are loud, keening things that are razor sharp against your eardrums. Her tearful pleading is loud enough for you to miss the ding of the elevator as it stops on your floor. 

Kyle strides from the lift like a living bronzed Adonis. 

With gritted teeth you curse every deity known to mankind.

Wonderful. Truly, amazing actually!

He’s clearly coming back from a run, His arms are comically large and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat on his brown skin. You’re able to make out the intricate tattooed shield containing the numbers ‘141’ on his bicep. It’s the first you’d seen of it (not that you were keeping an eye out for it before). 

His sleeveless jumper is damp and half zipped to show off a view of his firm pectorals and the first row of his 6-pack. You’re about to peak lower to his loose gym shorts when he catches your stray perusal and raises a singular brow.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Just peachy, Kyle, thank you.” you snipe in a clipped tone. “Please feel free to run along.”

Your snarky dismissal is prickly enough that most people would call you a cunt but would blessedly sod off. 

The disgustingly fit nuisance just removes his headphones from around the cartilage of his ears and continues to linger just outside his door with crossed arms. Behind Madelyn’s trembling back you make a harried shoo-ing gesture. It’s meant to somehow relay that you had everything under control. 

You did not of course, but the last thing you could stand right now is Kyle fucking Garrick in the mix of this shit-show. No matter how angelic the bastard looked in the dim lighting of the hallway, he had an uncanny ability to piss on all of your emotional reserves. 

“Siggy!” Madelyn’s blubbering cuts off Kyle's next words. “I’m so, SO sorry!” She immediately descends into another fit of sobs against your cleavage. 

There’s a bit of an awkward lull when Kyle snorts out a laugh.“You think she can breathe in there?”

With closed eyes you lean your head back to look at the ceiling, shooting a ‘fuck you very much’ to the universe. 

You’d come home 20 minutes prior with murderous miasma cloaking you like a second skin. After being publicly dumped (without even the comfort of sweets to soothe the humiliation) you’d gone straight back to work just to deal with piles upon piles of paperwork. 

Your only reprieve was Hugo’s mother canceling her standing appointment with you. You’d still been forced to work with the old woman’s assistant and to your disdain, he was just as persnickety as his employer.

By the time you’d made it home on aching feet and a splitting headache your thoughts were filled with the desire to stuff yourself with a big fat American cheeseburger. Specifically one from the shady shop around the corner that you suspect may be a mafia front. They made damn good cheeseburgers though. 

Your mind had then of course wondered to the possibility of being caught up in a police raid and if ‘wanting to support local business’ be a good enough excuse to get you off the hook.

It’s how you missed the pint sized ambush lying in wait for you.

Madelyn had been planted outside your door in electric pink spandex and light up sneakers. She’d spotted you coming out of the lift and attached herself onto you before you could make a proper run for it.

Since then you’d been stuck holding her instead of the greasy end of a heart attack masquerading as a sandwich. Fat tears continue to wet the collar of the fleece outer coat you’d nabbed at a bargain sale.

“How long has she been like this?” Kyle asks with a raised brow.

Ignoring him, you do your best to wrestle Madelyn’s stiff form back enough to meet her eyes. 

The younger girl’s face is red and splotchy, snot and mascara darkened tears stain her usually fair skin. Her mousy brown hair could use a wash as well but you aren’t unkind enough to point it out. Even though she did shag your husband to be, it was clear the girl was torturing herself with guilt.

It is a bit unfair that the smudged makeup does nothing to detract from her beauty, much to your petty disdain. 

She’d make gorgeous babies with Hugo…

The thought makes you scowl. It was time to make a retreat.

“Madelyn, I’d really like to get into my flat. I don’t want to speak to you to be honest and I need you to let me go.”

More helpless wailing comes out of the younger woman.

“P-Please Siggy, I just need you to know I never meant for this to happen! Hugo and I tried to keep away from each other and I don't want you to hate me or the b-baby!” By the end she’s blubbering herself into hyperventilation. 

From the corner of your eyes you can make out the door of your neighbor adjacent to you crack open. Whipping your neck to get a look at the nosy pissant gets the older woman to slam the door closed with a fearful squeak. 

This had gone on too long.

Forcibly you use your hip and extra weight to maneuver the hysterical woman from your person. You hold her flailing arms to prevent her from launching herself back to your front. When she whines you’ve finally reached your breaking point.

“For fucks sake, you’re making a bloody scene!” You bark out, “I don’t care about Hugo!”

Madelyn flinches.

“But you care that we’re having a baby, right?”

It’s only when Madelyn lets out a whine of pain that you notice you’d been holding her thin wrists in a vice-like grip.

A forgotten Kyle chooses that moment to slink closer, his hands cup Madelyn’s shoulder carefully, despite your death glare.

“Maddy, darling, why don’t you let go for me.”

The brunette woman startles having finally noticed his presence in the vicinity. 

“Oh, Kyle! I didn’t know you were here!” It’s insulting how quickly she wriggles from your hold to catapult herself into Kyle’s waiting arms. 

With disgust you watch Kyle pat the shorter woman’s hair much like one would do a pet. Something about watching him with her makes your hackles rise farther.

“Why don’t you come in and calm down, hm? I’ll make you that tea you like and we can watch something.” Kyle makes a humming noise meant to soothe. It pisses you off but seems to work like a charm.

Madelyn’s sniffles subside dramatically and she rubs her hand across her button nose.

“Yes, that does sound lovely, but I need to talk to Siggy...”

You flinch as the two turn towards you once more. Kyle must see the cornered look in your eyes because he rubs his hands along Madelyn’s shoulders and whispers something in her ear. 

Madelyn nods and enters Kyle’s flat without any further hesitation.

It’s like the nearly thirty minutes of being held hostage outside your own home means nothing against his soft words.

God, you hate this man with every fiber of your being.

With a scowl you rummage through your bag for your house keys. Why did you have so many gum wrappers inside? You really need to clean your bag out. 

It’s not until you hear a throat clear that you realize Kyle still watches you from the threshold of his home.

“What?” Your tone makes a muscle in his cheek twitch. You hate to say it but it satisfies you to know at least you have some effect on him.

“Are you alright, love?” 

That causes you to abandon your search. You squint at his open expression and the genuine concern you see there. It’s unexpected and makes you a bit uncomfortable. How pathetic did you look that even your enemies pity you?

“I’m fine. Not like you actually care anyways.”

The last part was said in a mumble but Kyle’s sharp ears catch it. 

“Oy, what is that supposed to mean?” He steps closer to you crowding your space. 

Your senses are bombarded by the heady scent of the bergamot and cedar wood notes in his cologne. Coupled with the tangy smell of his natural musk, your brain does that thing where it shuts off and reboots itself.

“Siggy.” Kyle reaches out to touch your arm sending an electric current between you two that causes you to jolt back. He frowns, stepping closer, crowding you before you wield your bag in front of you like a shield and sword. 

“Garrick, I really, really don’t want to talk right now.” 

“Sig-”

“No, no, no! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve had a shite day and the cause of it is currently waiting for tea and cakes in your flat! I’m the one that deserves bloody tea and cakes for fucks sake!”

Enraged, you shove your hand through your bag and come in contact with the puff ball attached to your keys. 

You’re frantically unlocking your door and shoving inside your home, refusing to give the universe another moment to make a mess of your ruined day.

You look at Kyle as he stands in utter confusion and give him the dirtiest look in your arsenal. 

“Cheers, I hope you enjoy your sweets with Madelyn but you can piss right off, Kyle!” 

You slam the door with finality.

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[sexy-monster-fucker]

Confidant

Baby Billy Freeman x Reader

Summary: Reader is Billy’s pseudo agent, they’ve known each other their entire lives. When another job falls through for him, she is the only one who stays around.

CW: drinking, drunken sex, oral f!&m!receiving, baby billy never shuts up lol, SMUT

a/n: I finished Righteous Gemstones in less than a week and I am IN LOVE with it. As someone who was born and raised in Tennessee, I will have to fight myself on the Southern-isms I put into this. also sorry I don't really proofread.

~~~

“Of course fucking Eli convinced Aimee-Leigh not help at all! I was counting on HER to make this work,” he threw some notebook across the room, “Fucking bullshit! Eli Gemstone has always had it out for me! You know that, ever since he met me! Never gave me a single chance!” He gestured towards you in his frustration. You sat quietly nodding in agreement.

Baby Billy Freeman, a childhood star alongside his sister now washed-up preacher. And you, a girl raised just a few roads down from the Freeman Ranch, growing up alongside Baby Billy and his sister, Aimee-Leigh. You were friends before stardom, along with becoming somewhat his Agent in adulthood. You knew the ins-and-outs of his life. And here you were again at the end of another harebrained scheme that fell through. One thing about Baby Billy: he would do anything for some quick cash.

"Goddamn Gemstone and their stupid church!" He stomped his foot and ripped pages up. This is how he coped. He could not ever admit he was wrong so he had to go through his list of people to blame. Eli, Aimee-Leigh's husband, usually at the top of the list.

He paced around your living room. His face almost as red as the Marlboro crewneck he wore. Hands going straight to his head, eyes wide. You could see his mind racing.

"Such a fucking loser! I am talented! Eli is just plum ignorant! All he cares about is being on top! What about underdogs like us? Every bit of missionary work he does is so he looks good to the public," Billy walked in circles around your living room before plopping down onto the couch directly next to you.

His face rested in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. Frustration painted his body, embarrassment that he had failed once again. He groaned into his hands.

You stared at him not sure how to comfort him. In all your years of knowing him, you knew he really just needed silence and for him to talk himself through it.

He reached one of his hands out to you, placing it on your exposed thigh. His other hand still holding his face, eyes not yet looking at you. “In all my years, you’re the only one who’s stuck by me, sweetheart,” he grumbled into his hand, the other rubbing your skin.

“Of course, Baby Billy,” you swallowed hard, “I believe you’ve got a talent that needs to be shared with the world.”

He looked to you slightly, “Yeah… That’s right. You have impeccable taste.” He flashed a white smile at you. Timidness painted the smile you returned. He slapped your thigh lightly, springing up to his feet. He exclaimed a holler.

“Where do you keep the liquor in this place?” He walked over to your cabinets rummaging through them. You joined him, opening up your liquor cabinet pulling out some tequila.

His eyes widened at you, “You keep the good stuff hidden from me don’t you, dollface.” You giggled at him. Grabbing two shot glasses, you poured the first round for both of you. He grabbed his off the counter, toasting you, “Here’s to us.” You clinked your shot with his, throwing it back. Billy sucked his teeth, “GodDAMN that’s good stuff. WHOO!” Warmth rose to your cheeks, an instant flush on your face. “Gimme another one of those,” he gestured with his glass. Both of you threw back another shot. Warmth melted down your throat. “We’re gonna have a great night tonight, Y/N,” Billy’s freehand went to your hip. You melted as he pulled you flush against his side.

You make cocktail after cocktail for Billy as the night got later. His cheeks buzzed with the alcohol in his system, a goofy grin painted on his face. He kept on and on about how one day the world would appreciate his talents. About how Eli was a “motherfucker with that church’s thumb shoved so far up his asshole he should be able to see God.” You agreed with everything he said. Drinking at a crawl compared to how quickly he put it down.

You sat together on your couch. Your legs rested across his lap, his hands resting on them. You both laughed drunkenly at something. Billy ran his hand up your legs, getting highly close to the warmth that had been brewing on you for hours. He leaned in closer to your torso.

He hooked one of his hands under your ass, pulling you closer into his lap. You stared into each other’s eyes. “You’re too good for me,” he smiled.

You blushed, “What do you mean?”

One of his hands went to your cheek, “No woman would stick around a man like me this long without a ring on her finger. Let alone one as dedicated as you. Always trying to book me gigs, staying up late to help me rehearse, cheering me on…” He smiled looking at you. “You’re a real gift from God, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you at my side,” he pulled you closer and planted a kiss on your lips.

“You’re drunk, Baby Billy,” you laughed shyly.

“Not too drunk to know you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had in my life,” he kissed your neck. You placed your hands against his chest, pushing him to look at you. His hooded eyes stared into yours, pupils blown with lust. “You just want to get laid,” you tried talking sense into him.

“No,” he protested, “No-No. If I just wanted to get laid I’d go down to the strip joint and have one of those bimbos hop on my cock. I’ve been stupid to not see what I’ve had in front of me for this long.” He leaned closer, his lips attaching to your neck again. You could not deny the arousal pooling deep inside you, your cotton panties growing soaked with each kiss on your skin.

“Come-Come on, Baby Billy. You and I b-both know you-you’re just trying to drown out your—“ a moan escaped your throat, “Drown out your sorrows and I-I’m just the clo-closest woman you can get t-to.” You stumbled over your words as he continued kissing your neck. His lips made their way up to your ear, “If I was looking for a quick pick-me-up I would be out drunk fucking some whore off the street. Don’t be so hard on yourself, darlin’.” His gruff Southern drawl was like honey dripping down your skin.

Maybe he really did want you. Maybe he really had just been blinded by his need for stardom that he never even considered pursuing you. He was praising you like you’d never been praised before.

Your hands went into his hair, leaning your head back to give him better access to your skin. “Atta girl,” he encouraged, his hot breath against your neck. “Baby Billy is gonna take care of you now. Real good care of you… all night,” he trailed his kissing down your collar, resting where your shirt laid. You felt him breathe out against your skin, a smile painted his face. You looked at him, your skin hot to the touch. He swatted at your exposed thigh, “Hop up on my lap now. Ole Baby Billy wants a better look at you.”

You readjusted to be straddling him. He admired you slack jawed. His hands ghosted down the sides of your body, stopping on your hips. “Good ole liquid courage, helping me realize what a good thing I’ve had right in front of me,” he chuckled. Billy’s hands pinched at your shirt, “Can I take this off?”

You nodded shyly. Billy hooked his fingers under your shirt, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the side. His eyes scanned your chest, a wide grin painting his face. “That sure is a pretty lace set you’ve got on,” he licked his lips. His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them. His thumbs danced over your hardening nipples through the bra. You could see how laser focused he was on your chest. His ever growing erection becoming more obvious by the second against you. He placed his hand between the fabric and your breast, pinching your nipple ever slightly. You rolled your eyes at his touch, enjoying any attention he would give you. His lips found the exposed skin of your breast, kissing and biting at it. His hand pulled your breast out from your bra, lips quick to attach to your nipple. Sucking on it momentarily. A soft moan left your lips, causing Billy to smile against you. “You like my mouth on you, don’t you? Love those pretty noises you make, doll.”

You rolled your hips against his groin. Billy groaned against your skin, tightening his grip on you. His attention was now on your face, staring deeply into your eyes. His hand caressed the back of your neck, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. Tongues fighting for dominance, teeth clanking together. Moans and grunts being shared between you.

“I’m gonna fuck you senseless tonight, girly,” he growled into your mouth. You smiled, pressing the weight of your body into him. His back was flush against the couch now as you began kissing his neck. Billy threw his head back, his Adams Apple bobbing with each breath he took. His hands danced up your body, small praises falling from his lips. His fingers went around your back fidgeting with the clasps of your bra. He unhooked your bra, pulling the straps down your arms. Once fully off, he took it and threw it to the side. Wide eyes stared at your bare chest.

“My, my,” his hands grabbed your breasts, “I think God may have put the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen on you.” He palmed at your skin, your nipples becoming hard at his touch. “Fittin’ perfectly in my hands and everything,” he smiled up at you. Your skin was red hot as he laid compliment after compliment on you. Every touch sending lightning through your body, pooling in your ever growing arousal. You adjusted your hips, feeling his erection directly against your soaked core. A slight moan escaped you.

Billy’s hand traveled down to your shorts, running two fingers against your clothed folds. You closed your eyes taking in the slight friction he gave you, your legs shuddering slightly. “So fucking warm, darlin’. Bet you’re soaked under them daisy dukes,” he stared at your body. He admired you. A gorgeous woman straddling him. His cock was begging to be released from its confines.

You stepped off his lap, receiving a dissatisfied whine from Baby Billy. You began removing your shorts painfully slow in front of him. Billy smiled when he realized what you were doing, spreading his legs to enjoy the show. Your shorts pooled around your ankles revealing the matching lace thong you wore. Billy’s head fell slightly to the side, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You spun around for him quickly, letting him take you in before walking over and kneeling in front of him. His brows raised quickly, eyes unable to leave you. You began with the button of his jeans, slowly pulling his zipper down. His hand slipped down his jeans, pulling his clothed cock out. You salivated at the sight of his tent. You wanted him badly, wanted him inside you anyway he was willing to give it. You doed your eyes up at him.

Billy bit his lip staring down at you. You ran your hands up his thighs, stopping them beside his erection. You leaned down placing an open mouthed kiss on the still clothed member. Billy’s breath sputtered, rolling his neck and licking his teeth. Finding your way inside his boxer-briefs, you pulled out his cock. It sprung up at you. You gawked at it for a moment, eyes completely blown with lust. Tip swollen and leaking pre-cum, a vein on the underside popping out. You licked a stripe up the underside, placing a kiss on the tip. Billy moaned loudly, his hips jolting at the contact.

“You sure do know how to get a man fired up,” he chuckled lightly, breathless. You took him into your mouth quickly, causing his eyes to spring open. He sat up slightly, his cock going deeper in your mouth. Desperate hands found your hair, tugging you up and down on his member. He held you in place at the base, your nose resting on the hair surrounding his cock. Gentle thrusts came from him, his eyes squinted shut and head thrown back. “God gave you a gift! Goddamn! Y/N, sweetheart— Jesus Christ,” he moaned hardly able to find his words. Sweat beamed down his face, his clothes growing tighter on his body the more you went down on him. “You look so good with my dick shoved down your throat,” he praised looking you in the eyes.

His hand caressed the underside of your chin as he face fucked you. “Get up,” he insisted. You sucked off him with a pop of his cock. A shaky breath escaped him. You both stood before one another. Billy began removing his own clothes, his crewneck the first thing to go. Your hands found the waistline of his pants, helping him undress. He was quick to plant a kiss on your lips, his hands grabbing your face.

You admired his lightly toned body. How covered in sweat he was, watching as his chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took.

He stepped out of his under garments, pushing you back onto the couch. He was on top of you, his lips never detaching. They found their way down your neck, traveling lower and lower down your body. He kissed right above your panties, smirking up at you, “This pretty thing for little ole me?” You nodded, encouraging him. His large hands spread your thighs apart. Your panties were darkened from where you had soaked through them. His eyes widened at the sight. A toothy, white grin painting his face. Two of his fingers played with your opening, pressing your panties into it. You rolled your hips with his touch, moaning his name. “Ooo, sound real pretty like that,” he praised. Lips found your inner thighs, biting and kissing the soft skin. A slight shake decorated your legs. Anticipation weighed on you. His finger began making circles on the covered nub. Electricity jolted through you.

Fingers hooked around the thin strap of your underwear. He guided them down your legs which now rested on his shoulders. His breath sent chills up your body as it hit your aching core. Black eyes stared at your exposure, “This has got to be the sexiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Your hand found his hair, running fingers through it. He looked up to see your face painted with need. A need who knew how to fill.

His mouth attached to your throbbing clit. Your head threw back, his name a complete scream on your lips. You felt him moan into your cunt, his tongue working absolute magic on your lower half. Fingers interlocking with his hair, grinding into his face. A knot in your belly began twisting tighter and tighter. If he continued like this, your orgasm would wash over you shortly.

He pulled away abruptly. Rising to his feet, stroking his cock as he stood above you. You stared at the member in his hand. "I'm gonna fuck you now, pretty thing," he huffed out with a grin. His weight fell into the edge of the couch with his knees, propping your legs on each of his shoulders. He positioned himself, easing his way inside your sopping entry. He stared down where he entered you completely slack jawed. You squirmed and moaned his name loudly. "That's it. You take Baby Billy so good," he breathed out. He fully sheathed himself inside you, taking a deep breath and looked into your eyes. Your eyes were hooded as you stared up at him. He pulled back, nearly removing himself completely before thrusting back into you.

He began a relentless pace with you. The sound of skin smacking echoed through your entire home. It was completely euphoric for you both. You had never had someone this good. His cock perfectly filled you up, stretching you just enough.

"Darlin', you're so fucking tight," he groaned, "You squeeze my cock perfect." He bent one of your legs, his fingers finding their way to your throbbing clit. You were seeing stars when he started rubbing circles against you. You called out to him, your head falling back into the couch. You felt the coil inside you ready to spring free.

"Baby Billy, I'm gonna cum," you cried out.

A wicked grin came across his face, "Please, pretty girl. Cum on Baby Billy's cock." He picked up his pace working you to your finish. Your walls fluttered around his cock, practically milking him. He moaned loudly as you finished around him. Your orgasm pushed him over the edge. His thrusts grew sloppy. He shot ropes of cum inside you. Continuing thrusting making sure to get every drop inside you. He leaned his head back with a loud groan.

Gently, he laid your legs back down, his cock slipping out of you. Remnants of him spilled out of you. He leaned down on top of you, smiling and placing a tender kiss on your lips. Scooping up what had spilled out, he placed two fingers inside you. Aftershock from your orgasm caused you to pulse around his fingers. "Wanna keep that in there," he kissed you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling up at him. He had worked your body perfectly. You enjoyed the softness between you both, how he kissed all over your face and neck, whispering praises about how good you were.

"I hope you recover quick, sweetheart," he chuckled, "Baby Billy wants to go all night with you."

That went straight to your core.

"Gonna have you filled up like a fucking boston creme donut when I'm done," he whispered into your ear, kissing your neck.

A fun night was ahead of you.

~~~

END

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

Tags:

@anamelessfool ~ @vaultdwellingghoullover ~ @ivyinthesun ~

[reiderwriter]

Hi, can I request a smut fic about Spencer being a sub and desperately begging the reader to dominate him and how it turns out please ?

I love your writing 🥹

A/N: I feel like I'm not good at writing Sub! Spencer but I certainly did give it a go 😅 let me know what you think in the comments or the ask box!

W/C: 1.7k

Warnings: sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader, mommy kink, slight bondage, orgasm control, use of sex toys (M and F), I don't think there's anything else???

You’d noticed the look on his face earlier in the day, but you hadn’t quite worked up the courage to ask him what it meant. Despite being a BAU Profiler, the man couldn’t stop himself from displaying his desire clearly on his face. There was something Dr Spencer Reid wanted, badly, and even without a fancy FBI job you knew that.

You let him come to you first, though, a little bit intrigued about how long it would take him to break. He’d been silent as he stared at you over dinner, making small talk, sure, but not sharing his actual thoughts. The car ride home had been similarly devoid of his usual “Reid”isms, but you could feel his eyes on you from his place in the passenger seat, raking over you shyly. When you got into the apartment, you thought he was finally going to break.

“Y/N…?”

“Yeah, Spence? What is it?” you smiled at him, ready to hear what had been on his mind the entire time.

“Actually, no…no it’s nothing.” He turned to move towards the bathroom, but you cut him off before he reached it.

“It’s not nothing, you’ve been acting weird all night, is there something wrong?”

He hesitated for a second, before pulling your hand into his. Reaching down, he planted a small chaste kiss on your lips, then tried to pull away quickly, but you laced your hands through his hair and pulled him back down to you, not letting him go until you were satisfied.

“Can we… Can we try something new?” he asked, and your heart rate increased as he trailed his hands hesitantly down to your hips.

“What were you thinking, Spencer?” your voice was lower now than it had been a few moments ago, barely a whisper, but the lacking space between the two of you more than made up for it.

“Can you…I don’t really know how I’m supposed to say it,” he frowned, looking down at you with that puppy dog expression that you’d fallen for.

“Tell me with your words Spencer, you can do it.”

“Can you… take charge tonight?” The blush on his face was pronounced, his entire body aflame with the question he’d just asked. You felt yourself growing excited at the prospect, hoping that he was absolutely insinuating what you thought he was.

“What do you mean by that, baby? You want me to take charge how?” You smiled through the questions, trying to set him at ease so he wouldn’t clam up again. You ran a distracting hand through the hair at the base of his neck and waited for him to respond.

“Please can you….I want you to-”

“No wants, Spencer. What do you need?” you asked, smiling innocently up at him.

“Please, I need you to dominate me.” Hearing the words that you’d suspected for the last few minutes had your heartbeat racing faster. You knew Spencer didn’t like to give up control often, but he’d been thinking about this all day, and you weren’t going to say no to him now that he’d asked you so nicely.

Moving your hand down from his hair to his tie, you yanked him down sharply so you were eye to eye, and he let out a shuddery breath.

“We’re going to use the traffic light system, okay baby? Red means you want to stop, orange, you need a break or you’re reaching your limit, green, you’re okay. Do you understand?” He nodded in response so you pulled him a little closer, not letting his lips meet you in the way that they wanted to.

“I need to hear your voice, baby, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Y/N.”

“Yes, mommy,” you insisted, and you watched as his adams apple bobbed with his swallow.

“Yes, mommy.”

“Good boy,” you smiled at him, before pulling him roughly into the bedroom by his tie. Looking down, you saw that he was already rock hard in his pants, his hand sneaking down between the two of you to palm himself, desperate for friction of any kind.

"What color, baby?"

"Green." You nodded and turned your gaze back down to his pants.

“Stop that right now. Did I give you permission to touch yourself, Spencer?” He whipped his hand away immediately, holding them both up like he was surrendering himself.

“No, mommy. I’m sorry.” You pushed him to the bed as he responded, and he let out a small gasp as he landed.

“Here’s how it’s going to go, baby. You’re going to sit there and watch mommy get herself off, and you’re not going to help or touch me or touch yourself. Just watching. And if you’re a good boy, then I’ll give you a special reward. Okay?”

“Yes, mommy.” He moaned out shakily. You pull down his pants, taking care to avoid making direct contact with his cock, letting it free itself from it’s prison without your interference or his, already wet with his precum.

“My-my, you’ve been thinking about this all night, right? My pervereted little baby.��� You giggled at him, stroking your hands up and down his legs without getting close enough to give him pleasure. You pushed away for him and moved towards the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed. Right where you left it sat a small bullet vibrator, shiny and pink and fully charged.

Walking to the reading chair opposite the bed, you spread your legs, watching his cock twitch as he took in the sight of your panty-clad cunt. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist as you pressed a button and let the vibrator buzz to life. You wanted to give him a show, and boy did you. You heard each and every one of his whimpers as you trailed the small little pellet down your body from your nipples to the tops of your thights all the way back up to your sopping pussy.

You let out a moan as it made contact, playing up the pleasure to torture the man in front of you. His hands were balled tightly into the sheets splayed around him, his jaw tense as he tried his best not to touch himself to your pleasure.

Pulling the top of your dress down, you let his eyes rake over the hard stiff peaks of your chest, watching as his breaths grew more and more shallow.

“Look how good mommy is making herself feel, baby. Can you see it?” you asked him, desperate to see if he would break or not.

“Mommy, please. Please let me…” he whimpered out, cock twitching again as he shifted slightly in his seat.

“Not a chance, Spencer.” You moaned then, letting your tongue fall out of your mouth a little before pulling the bullet up to your lips and sucking on the end of it slightly.

"Color?"

“G-Green. Please, please, just touch me, please,” he moaned from his seat, eyes not leaving your lips.

“You can touch yourself if you want baby, but there are consequences for not listening to your mommy, remember,” you sang at him, growing wetter and wetter at his heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry, mommy.” He said, grabbing the base of his cock and beginning to pump himself while looking at you.

You frowned as his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, finally getting some relief. Picking yourself up, you made your way to the bed and removed his hand from himself before grabbing him by the throat.

“You wanted to be punished, baby?” You asked, squeezing down gently on his neck as he tried to thrust his cock into your hip, desperate to close the distance between the two of you. He whimpered as you tightened your grip.

"Color?"

"Green," he moaned and you bloomed at the sound.

“Open your mouth,” you said, and he quickly obeyed. You spat in his mouth, and he dutifully swallowed it, hips rutting like crazy desperate for your touch.

The vibrator still in your hand, you decided that both of you could have some fun with it that day.

“Hands on the headboard, now. I don’t want to see them move at all, am I clear?” you said, voice firm. He moaned his agreement and you set the vibrator off once again. Being careful not to let any of your bare skin touch his, you bought the vibrator closer and closer to his aching cock. You’d barely ghosted over the tip when he started madly moaning, not bothering to hide his pleasure anymore, too lost in the feeling of it all.

You traced ghosting circles over his slit, and you physically saw him shudder and grow somehow harder.

“That’s it, good boy. Just relax for mommy, okay?” He doesn’t even respond to you this time, eyes screwed shut as if he were so desperate to experience that touch that he was willing to block out his every other sense.

You finally let the vibrator fall deep onto the tip of his dick, and he doesn’t last more than thirty seconds before coming with a loud moan.

“Mommy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t…” he gasps out with every new splash of cum that coats his chest. You’re sick of the noise coming from his mouth though, so, scooping up some of his own cum in your fingers, you press two to his lips as he moans another apology, and his eyes blow wide.

“Clean me up, baby, now.” He gets to work, licking him own cum off of you as you sit between his legs on the bed, breasts on perfect display for him the tntire time. Everytime you feel him finish licking up his cum, you scoop another mouthful of it into his mouth until there’s almost no sign of it at all.

“Next time you cum without mommy’s permission, you’re not going to get to cum at all, okay baby?” You ask, and he nods, a fucked out expression on his face telling you that he’d agree to anything you could possibly say in that moment.

You were growing to like this suggestion more and more…

[chronicowboy]

accidents happen (but i will love you on purpose) | 4.4k

They're in the baking aisle when Christopher brings it up.

"Am I just supposed to pretend I didn't see that earlier? Without a bribe?" he deadpans, eyebrows raised expectantly. Its such an Eddie look that Buck can't help but grin down at the price tags on the shelves.

"Pretend you didn't see what?" he asks as he compares the prices of self-raising flour.

"Buck." Chris sighs, long-suffering. Another Eddie-ism that Buck wants to bottle to give to Eddie on his worst days.

"Kid, I'm gonna need more than that." Buck grabs the bigger bag and drops it into the cart before turning to give Chris his full attention.

"I saw you kiss dad." Chris rolls his eyes. "You did it right in front of me."

"What?" Buck blinks. Of all the things he'd been expecting, well, let's just say that hadn't made the list.

He glances down at his list, tries to decipher Eddie's handwriting at the bottom of the page and promptly rolls his eyes at the unnecessarily expensive snacks he added there, gets a little chastened when he sees his own favourite brand of chips that he never allows himself to buy in Eddie's chicken scratch.

"Buck, you can't gaslight me," he scoffs, rolls his eyes harder. "I saw you French my dad."

"Where are you learning these words?" Buck blurts out, unwilling to face up to what his heart already seems to know as it pounds against his sternum.

"Mason." Chris shrugs. "He made a Tumblr account."

"He's eleven!" Buck squeaks, shooting an apologetic look at the single mother who flinches at the sound. "I'm telling his mom."

"No, Buck!" Chris groans, turns his puppy eyes up at Buck. "Pretend you didn't hear that, and I'll pretend I didn't see you French dad."

"I did not French your dad!" The words come out louder than expected, and Buck grimaces as the woman's baby starts to sniffle. She shoots him a dirty look, and he can only mouth a red-cheeked apology. "I did not French your dad," Buck hisses at Chris.

He'd know. Right? Like that's something Buck would know he did. Or, at least, he thinks so. Doesn't see how he could ever miss something like that. He's pretty certain he'd know if he'd kissed his best friend. This is probably just some evil mastermind plot to get something out of Buck. For all he knows, Eddie is probably in on it. A joint effort to turn Buck away from all the mushrooms he's been sneaking into their meals lately.

Yeah, that has to be it.

There's no way he kissed Eddie Diaz. Of all people! His very straight, totally platonic best friend. Buck doesn't even want to kiss him. Like, sure, he's objectively gorgeous. Handsome in his dumb dad Henleys, downright hot in his navy blue uniform, adorable in his cut-off sweats with that grumpy morning frog face of his. But a blind man could see how attractive Eddie is. That doesn't mean Buck wants to kiss him.

"I didn't French your dad," Buck repeats, just for certainty's sake, before heading towards the cocoa powder.

(OR: buck kisses eddie, goes grocery shopping with christopher, then realises he's in love with eddie - in that order)

[squirrellypoo]

Ep8 "What Can The Damned Really Say To The Damned" rewatch thoughts (Part 2)

Here's my second set of things I noticed on my third rewatch! Part 1 is here if you missed it...

11. On Claudia's first visit to the forest, we can briefly see a red mark on one of the trees. When brightened up, it's clearly a handprint, in fresh blood. Edit: ah, it’s not blood but paint from the kids painting their hands and slapping trees to show how far they could go into the forest!

12. I totally missed that the BBC radio bulletin talks about looted art being loaded onto trucks to be taken back to Paris! So that’s how they knew to jump in a truck and be taken all the way there rather than just random hitch-hiking.

13. Morgan mentions that Louis's photo of Grace was printed onto albumen, by a glass-plate camera, and I was intrigued by this and wanted to learn more. If you're also interested, have a read of this Wikipedia article.

14. I thought I must've been missing some sort of reference in Daniel's “Maybe you’re just frosting the pie?” line (about Louis remembering Claudia dreaming), but Google has no evidence this is a saying? So it looks like this was just a Daniel-ism? How odd.

15. Ohhhhh it's a factory they're all camping in! That makes sense, with the thick walls and boiler room, but I couldn't quite work out whether it was a church or meeting hall or what.

16. Claudia is singing the Anna Anna nursery rhyme that the children just taught her in order to lure the pissing soldier into the woods. Nice touch!

17. Both soldiers from the woods are in Daciana's castle. First we see one in the room that Louis and Claudia pass through before the one on the table by the fire that she calls “a burnt tray of bread”. Guess this first guy just dies after a while? Or maybe Louis and Claudia finish him off?

18. In the Dubai bedroom, there’s nothing on Armand’s bedside table (nothing!) but on Louis’s side there are so many well-thumbed books, cascading from the nightstand onto the floor…

19. The TdV programme is for “Des Cris Dans Les Ténèbres!” (Shrieks in the Darkness). I love that the actual item is in French, but the posters up all around Paris are in English, because Louis would’ve translated them into English and that’s how he remembered them! The details! 🤌

20. In the truck scene, Louis is still healing from Daciana’s attack. It made me wonder how long it would take to drive (pre-motorways!) from Romania to Paris. So I looked it up, and using modern roads, but avoiding motorways, it'd take 31hrs straight. But they’d have to break to sleep somewhere safe in the day, and many of the roads and bridges would likely have been bombed and required detours, so I think we can assume it'd take several days to get there. So if Louis still isn't healed by the time we see them outside Paris, he is one seriously malnourished vampire. 😔 The blood really was bad there!

And that's my list of weird things I noticed in the first episode! Part 1 is here if you missed it, and do let me know in the notes if there's any of these you missed, too!

[motheatenscarf]

Amidst all the James Somerton fallout, I think it's important to remember not to moralize whether or not you or others fell for his grift.

Obviously, if you were rallied into being one of his attack dogs on social media when he put some pretty heinous hits out on people, uh. You might have other problems and should probably evaluate how you spend your time online and how you treat other people before you start caring about the rest of the points I'm about to make. Priorities, etc.

But for the rest of us, it's surprisingly easy to miss just how awful a creator can be.

If you only watched his videos that caught your interest, if you don't really follow creators on social media, if you skip livestreams because watching Some Guy talk unfiltered into a bad camera angle with shitty lighting for hours on end sounds like a fucking nightmare to you, you're not really gonna catch most of this shit. At least, you're not gonna catch most of it from any perspective but the one he tries to spin.

This is a reminder to be skeptical and to trust your gut and check sources if something sounds wrong, but also. Uh. That's still the creator's responsibility not to plagiarize and to fact check their work. You're not morally obligated to be as thorough in curating your experience as someone who is making sure they take every ethical precaution before absolutely destroying a "creator's" credibility in a video like H-Bomb's or Todd in the Shadows'. You're literally just some guy. Most people, myself included, watch these videos as background noise while doing at minimum one other task, you're not gonna google every damn thing he says, especially not on media analysis, where the POINT is to have one's own opinion. THEY'RE the ones trying to be "influencers," or, laughably, "creators." The standards are on them.

And for the isms, phobias, and misogyny, well. Frankly, for my own perspective, I gaslight myself all the damn time when I see red flags. Good Allyship™ has been telling me for years to ignore my own discomfort when someone criticizes a privileged group, especially one I'm a part of. I'm a cis asexual white-passing and probably neuroatypical woman, I am constantly trying to be aware of my own relative privilege while simultaneously doubting my own reaction to things. Despite this, I'd still liked to think I'm a skeptical person, but nobody's immune to everything. Everybody has weak spots.

If you got duped or fell for James' scam, that sucks. I feel ya. I fell for it too, I've seen probably 40% of his catalog over the last couple years and really liked what I'd seen. I recommended his channel and videos to people even if I didn't always agree with every point he made, but it felt important to at least consider what to me seemed like a unique perspective that had value or added to a conversation. There are red flags within his content, his analysis, his rate of publishing, his weird diatribes, that in retrospect, really all added up into things I should have known better than to ignore. But, for reasons I'm interrogating and am adding to my list of things to be aware of about myself, I didn't ignore them, and got grifted. I donated to his patreon a few times, probably gave him like $20 grand total over the years, about as much as I've given H Bomb. The important take away here isn't to be ashamed of the fact that you were fooled, it's to remember that you're fallible.

And it's good to recognize that about yourself. Everyone is, and the ones who say they aren't are lying. They're either gonna be the next person to feel really stupid and foolish when they fall for a scam, or are themselves the grifter.

No one is immune.